To Whom It May Concern,

As a park ranger, I write you in great bewilderment. The recent release of Justin Timberlake’s album “Man of the Woods” has left me no choice but to compose this letter. I feel I am witnessing a phenomenon that threatens the future of our local ecosystems. In the spirit of preservation, I say to you: this new trend of pop stars’ rural reinventions must end now. Pop stars are ruining our national parks and wildlife.

Our forests, mountains, and countrysides are dying, owing to a sudden overpopulation of pop stars seeking authenticity. Pop stars have left their coastal habitats and migrated inward. This shift has caused a massive ecological imbalance, as these environments are not suited to handle the appetites of U.S. pop stars.

What kind of ecological imbalance, you ask? Well, the bluebirds have stopped singing, for one. They are deeply disoriented by the influx of pop artists recording their “most personal album yet.” Furthermore, I’ve read reports that bluebirds are mating to the pop four-on-the-floor dance beats they’re hearing—it’s not pretty. Meanwhile, pop stars are collecting wood and burning campfires, insisting that “this is who they’ve always been.” If that is true, then I must ask: Have pop stars always been this serious a threat to the North American bluebird?

I think not.

At first, I thought this was a passing fad. Truth be told, I enjoyed Lady Gaga’s “Joanne.” I enjoyed watching her zip around the desert. I found Kesha set against a wide-open prairie inspiring. These were appreciations of our landscape I could get behind. Then I saw Miley splashing through Malibu waters (home of the endangered steelhead trout) and realized that this wasn’t going to end anytime soon.

Things have got out of hand. I live and work in Montana. And I’ve caught a few well-known pop names spinning in eyelet dresses dangerously close to steep cliffs. I’ve caught stars bathing in the below-freezing waters of mountain rivers. When will it stop?

All I know is this: North American pop stars are looking for their roots, and, as a result, they are ravaging the soil. So I urge you to join me in protecting our wildlife, and yourself, by avoiding any pop stars you might encounter while out hiking, biking, camping, or swimming. Pop stars may appear unexpectedly, and their actions are often unpredictable and volatile.

Do not feed these pop stars. Not in the parks. This should go without saying. I have come across countless nori wraps along Montana brooks and meadows, Soylent and sprouted sandwiches littered along majestic gorges. Their diets are not adapted for these environments, and the sooner they realize this, the sooner they’ll leave.

Like many other confused diurnal species, I’ve been kept awake at night by the sounds of these unfamiliar stars. I remember one evening listening to a woman scream, “This album is inspired by my family,” until three or four in the morning.

Colleagues of mine have found high concentrations of fringe entangling plants and wildlife in areas of North Dakota and Wyoming, the likes of which I’ve never seen before. Rubber fringe—it’s horrifying. Leotards and rhinestones have littered trailways and been strewn over countless birches. I never thought I’d see birches disrespected like this in my life. Yet here I stand.

The list goes on. Complicated pyrotechnics are exploding in the forests like land mines. Yesterday, I came across one poor soul chewing on the bark of a redwood. I quickly removed him and asked why he was doing this. The man replied, “I want to show my fans a side of me they’ve never seen before.” I decided to play dead until he walked away.

I found another star straddling a Western saddle he’d thrown over a large river rock. I think he thought it was a horse. He looked desperate to ride something. Anything. It was heartbreaking to watch.

So, please, if you demand a turn toward wholesomeness from your favorite pop acts, think carefully before you ask them to “find themselves” or “return to where they’re from.” Very often they will take this to an ecologically catastrophic extreme.

And if you can’t appreciate them for their music, then I hope you might turn your attention to independent artists not wreaking such environmental havoc. Maybe try listening to an old park ranger’s ballads, for once? That’s right, I play a bit of guitar. I actually have a new record out, on my Web site. It’s not much, but I’m proud of it. I think it’s my most personal album yet.