Cris Ann Chapman, age 16, of Huntington Beach, California, for her question:

Is it true that bulrushes are edible?

The many readers who ask this question are not interested in bulrushes for food. Not at all. They are concerned about what hordes of human bulrush bandits can do to the wild ecology of our precious land. A century ago, it was stylish to plunder nature's wild animals. This latest fad could fool a lot of people into plundering nature's wild plants. The following story shows how this could lead to ecological disaster    and this is not exaggerated.

Once upon a time there was this ordinary, smallish lake. A couple of wily old catfish lurked out there in the depths. The lake also provided permanent or temporary homes for dozens of other water loving animals and plants. It was a balanced ecology, a whole world of survival. The most popular residential area was the lake shore, where playful wavelets gently stoked the miniature beaches.

There, around the shallow brink grew reedy rushes and tall sedges that sighed with the breezes. These stiff straight plants grew ankle deep in the water. Their roots tangled through the soggy mud    and held it tight when spring floods threatened to wash it away. Mini fishes and tiny tadpoles, water bugs and ameba type protozoa hunted and hid among the reedy roots.

Above the water, stiff, reedy stems grew tall enough to baffle the breezes and soften the winds. They also camouflaged the color scheme with shadowy pockets mixed with shiny patches of sky blue and leafy green. In summer they cast cooling shade that slowed down evaporation. Some of these lake shore guardians were bulrushes and cattails, wearing velvety brown pokers of crowded seedlets.

Every fall, a troup of handsome wild ducks arrived. The tall reeds sheltered them and the bulrushes provided some of their winter food. In the busy spring season, the winter visitors left and other water birds arrived. They built nests from reedy stalks and lined them with baby soft bulrush fuzz. Year after year, the little lake helped numerous creatures through the changing seasons.

Then came a day of doom. A chatty old gent arrived, a genuine menace in disguise. He led a group of trusting children on a so called "hack to nature outing".

He taught them how to eat the starchy roots of the bulrushes, plus an assortment of other wild plants. Imagine what could happen if this senseless vandalism were to become fashionable!

Hordes of vacationers would visit our lake, rip out its bulrushes and stomp down its sedges. In a few years, floods would erode its bare brinks. The sun beating down on its shadeless water would dry up the last drop. The story would continue as the bulrush bandits departed to find other lakes. What can we do? We can give plant plunderers a message from Mother Nature. Mankind, she declares, is supposed to be grown up enough to cultivate food for himself and his children. In a sane world, the dwindling wild plants rightfully belong to the dwindling wild animals.