Preface Every now and then an idea comes along that changes everything--or at least, everything about how you look at the world. For me, it is the idea at the heart of this book, an idea that is about to infect you. One of the weirdest things about being human is our so-called relationship to nature. The weirdness is embedded in that very phrase: To have "a relationship to nature" implies that we somehow stand outside it, and from that mythical position "relate" to it. Yet we humans are animals who evolved just like every other species. We are fully a part of nature, even if we seldom feel that way. Maybe it''s our arrogance, the belief that we are somehow special and therefore above it all. We feel powerful in nature, for better and worse.

We manipulate other species in all sorts of ways, and have altered the landscape and earth''s ecosystem so dramatically that we have caused a new geologic era called The Anthropocene. I suppose it''s nice to feel special and powerful, but it leads to all sorts of problems--including the environmental crisis we now find ourselves in. I don''t believe we can begin to resolve this crisis until we completely rethink our place in nature. That means learning to see ourselves as one creature among many, and regarding other creatures not as unfeeling objects for us to exploit, but as fellow beings with their own interests, intelligence, and perspectives that are deserving of our respect. This is the idea at the heart of this book, which I think of as offering a plant''s-eye view of the world. One of our greatest blessings as humans is our imagination, which allows us to put ourselves in the shoes (or roots) of other creatures, the better to see the world from their perspectives. That''s what you will learn to do as you read this book--see how, far from being the passive objects of our attentions, plants are busy with their own agendas. And for many of them, especially the ones we arrogantly call "domesticated," that means getting animals like us to do things for them they can''t do for themselves: spread their genes around the world, clear land and create new habitat for them, and then care for them.

The question of who''s really in charge here is a live one, and the answer will surprise you. When we begin to see the world, and ourselves, from the plant''s point of view, everything changes. We gain new respect for the ingenuity of plants, and begin to develop a more realistic (and humbler) sense of our own role and powers in nature. You will come to see that these other creatures have evolved the ability to use us even as we use them--and that the same goes for domestic animals and even the trillions of bacteria with whom you share your body. All of us participate in this great, big, beautiful dance of symbiosis, partners in co-evolution, changing and being changed, mutually dependent. The sooner we recognize that we''re all in this together, the sooner we can begin to repair the damage our mistaken ideas of specialness and power have created. There''s no time to lose. Introduction: The Bees and Me The seeds of this book were First planted in my garden--while I was planting seeds, as a matter of fact.

Sowing seed can be relaxing. It''s not hard, and it leaves you plenty of mental space to think about other things while you''re doing it. On that spring afternoon, I happened to be sowing potatoes next to a owering apple tree that was vibrating with bees. They buzzed from flower to flower and together they made a noise like a small engine. Listening to them, I was struck by this idea: Weren''t we (the bees and I) doing basically the same thing? Both of us were helping plants to reproduce. The bees, while going after the sweet nectar in the flower, were spreading pollen from one bloom to another. The pollinated flowers would then grow into fruit (apples) with a star-shaped pattern of seeds inside. Those seeds, under the right conditions, could become new apple trees.

Though I had nothing to do with creating my potato seeds, by planting and tending to them, I was also helping new plants to grow. Of course, the bee doesn''t know that it''s helping to create new apple trees. I, on the other hand, am very aware of what I''m doing. I carefully plan my garden, deciding which seeds to plant, where and how many. In my garden, I''m in charge. If one year I decide to plant leeks and not potatoes, then that''s what gets planted. I''m helped by a long chain of other people who are making decisions: botanists who develop the seeds I plant, gardeners whose knowledge guides me in my decisions, agricultural scientists who breed new types of potatoes. But what struck me that day, as I listened to the buzzing of the bees, was that maybe, despite all the decisions and choices we humans make, our situation really isn''t different from that of the bees.

The apple tree has lured the bee into working for it spreading its genes--by the promise of nectar. The bee has no idea it has been manipulated by the tree. So I wondered: Have I been manipulated by the potato too? Did I choose to plant these potatoes, or did the potato make me do it? We tend to think of the bee as an unwitting servant of the flower, almost as if it is "tricked" into helping the plant reproduce. But in fact, the bee and the flower are partners. Each gets something out of the arrangement. The bee gets food in the form of nectar and the flower gets help in reproducing. They each need the other. Without bees (or other pollinators), there will be no new seeds and no new flowers.

Without flowers and the food they provide, no new bees. This relationship is an example of what scientists call "coevolution." Flowering plants and pollinators like bees and wasps evolved together over millions of years. Neither of them planned for it to happen, but over time they became dependent on each other. Our relationship to the potato (or any of the other plants we use) isn''t much different. We both get something from the arrangement. We get food from the potato and--here is the point we often overlook--the potato gets help in reproducing. Let''s spend a moment thinking about that.

We like to think we''re in charge, it''s all about us, we use the potato, we grow the potato, we change and breed the potato to suit our needs. Yet it is undeniable, that just like the bee and the flower, our relationship with the potato is a two-way street. Potatoes offer humans an easily grown source of food. In return, we humans have helped the potato spread from a limited area high in the Andes of South America until now, when it is grown (and eaten) all over the world. Humans and the potato are partners. Both benefit from the relationship. (I''m talking about the potato as a species or type of plant. Obviously, it doesn''t help individual potatoes to be baked, roasted, or chopped up and fried in oil.

) Looking at it this way takes human beings out of the center of the story. We are no longer the bosses, the decision makers, the ones in charge. Instead, we are part of a complex web of relationships with the natural world. Did I choose to plant potatoes, or did potatoes get me to plant them? Am I using the potato, or is it using me? Both are true. That idea--that humans and plants exist in partnership--is the central theme of this book. Plant Partners This book looks at four plants that have greatly benefited from their partnership with humans--the apple, the tulip, coffee, and the potato. They are all what we call "domesticatedspecies," but, as we will see, that can be a misleading term. Yes, we have learned to use these plants, and we''ve changed them to make them better suit our needs.

But looking at it from the plants'' point of view, it''s just as true to say they have used us. The wild ancestors of these plants--the wild tulip, the wild potato--didn''t look much like their domesticated offspring. But each had the potential to satisfy some human need or desire. They were also relatively easy for humans to grow and adapt. The apple was good at providing humans with a taste of sweetness before sugar was widely available. The tulip satisfies our desire for beauty. Coffee gives us a boost of energy and a sense of well-being. The potato has become a basic food source around the world.

Evolution is sometimes described as "survival of the fittest." That can give the mistaken impression that it''s all about competition. Plants and animals compete for food or sunlight and the best one wins. But evolution isn''t merely driven by competition. There are many, many examples in nature of cooperation between species, of animals that have evolved together to the point where they need each other for survival. Clown fish (like Nemo in Finding Nemo ) clean sea anemones, and in turn the stinging anemones provide protection from predators. Cows rely on bacteria in their gut to digest cellulose in grasses. In return the bacteria have a safe environment and a reliable food supply.

There are hundreds if not thousands of other examples, including our own partnerships with plants and animals. There''s nothing more natural. It''s just as natural as the cooperation between the bee and the flower. We are so used to the domesticated plants and animals we live among, we have stopped thinking of them as part of the natural world. We may even look down on them a little. Maybe it''s that word domesticated. We love our dogs, but we respect the wolf more. We think the dog is our tamed servant, but the wolf is wild and free.

But what is a dog? It''s a wolf.