Back in the 1800s, Victorians had a thing for moving nature around. They called it acclimatization—the idea that plants and animals could, and should, be transplanted into new territories. Like California.

In many ways, acclimatization was an extension of imperialism and colonialism, shaping the landscape to reflect European ideals and values. Settlers wanted the West to look and feel like home. Reading Dickens or Thoreau in the wilds of California felt weird when the birds, trees, and fish didn’t match the page.

So they brought them in.

This project was also tied to cultural anxieties. The industrial revolution had pulled many men from rural life into the factory, prompting fears that the modern male had become soft and detached from nature. Outdoor pursuits, especially hunting and fishing, were promoted as a way to restore masculine vigor.

In 1870, the California Acclimatization Society shipped brook trout from the East Coast and raised them in the basement of San Francisco’s City Hall before releasing them into Lake Merced and Sierra Nevada streams. The goal? Reinforce the image of the “rugged” outdoorsman.

Today, most freshwater game fish in California like brook trout, brown trout, and bass aren’t native. They were shipped in, like souvenirs from somewhere else.

For plants, it was often about fast money. The eucalyptus was advertised as a miracle tree. Fast-growing, drought-tolerant, and ideal for timber. Real estate speculators and would-be lumber magnates planted thousands of acres. But the truth was less promising. While eucalyptus shoots up quickly, its mature wood is brittle, full of cracks, and notoriously difficult to mill.

Still, the myth stuck around for decades. Growers kept planting. Refused to admit the truth. Mayor Adolf Sutro planted 1100 acres of eucalyptus on the west side of San Francisco, 80 acres of which still exist as Mount Sutro Forest.

Meanwhile, eucalyptus trees release chemicals that kill off nearby plants. They turned whole hillsides into monocultures. A sort of green desert with no understory and no native wildlife.

Thankfully, things shifted.

By the 1970s, the environmental movement was in full swing. People started asking real questions. What’s native? What belongs? Restoration projects began. Invasives got ripped out. Endangered species reintroduced.

The legacy of Victorian acclimatizers is still all around us. But we’re rewriting the story. One native fish, one native plant at a time.