Law of the Land

If you're going to study law in the American West, you have to understand all of the parts that make it up - not just water and mineral rights, but also religion and culture. At least, that's what Charles Wilkinson believes. He's a longtime law professor who's worked for the government on a wide range of assignments, negotiating treaties with Native American tribes and establishing national monuments.

He paced in front of my Foundations in American Natural Resources Law class yesterday, six-foot-three and wiry, sporting well-worn cowboy boots, warning his law students that if they're just looking to study cases, this isn't the class for them.

Instead, he said, we'll get history and a chronological recounting of how the resources in the west were divvied up as well as the rise of the early conservation movement. We'll read Wallace Stegner's Beyond The Hundredth Meridian and Aldo Leopold's A Sand County Almanac. In short - not your traditional law class.

And then he broke down the various elements that have to be considered if you're going to have a discussion about natural resource law in the American West, specifically on the Colorado Plateau - an area that encompasses large parts of Utah and Arizona, big chunks of Colorado and New Mexico and the Grand Canyon, among other major national monuments, forests and parks. Some of the elements he mentioned play a much larger role, but they all have to be taken into account.

1) Aridity - west of the 100th meridian, we get less than 20 inches of rainfall a year, which means that farmers rely heavily on irrigation and reservoirs. It's the main reason for the establishment of western water law.

2) Public lands - nationwide, the federal government owns about 25 percent of the land. In the intermountain west, that number goes up to 50 percent. And on the Colorado Plateau - two-thirds of that land belongs to the federal government. That's a lot of land to manage.

3) Range land - grazing land, for which the Colorado Plateau is not well-suited, as it causes a lot of damage, although that hasn't stopped ranchers.

4) Timber land - forest land is not abundant in this area and logging here has come way down in recent years but it's still a disputed resource.

5) Minerals - this includes hard rock minerals, like gold, and energy fuels, like coal and uranium.

6) Big build-up - following World War II, there was a huge rush on the west. The population quintupled and what city leaders wanted most for growth were water and energy. Big infrastructure projects got underway - the Glen Canyon Dam, Hoover Dam - and mining for coal and uranium took off. All this at a time when there was no regulations governing clean water or air.

7) Parks and monuments - those particularly breathtaking spots: the Grand Canyon, Grand Staircase Escalante National Monument, Bryce Canyon, Arches National Park...

8) Wilderness - protected areas, which preserve a natural resource that's not much discussed: the beauty of the land, as untouched and as wild as possible.

9) Mormons - they were the first whites to settle many parts of the Colorado Plateau, giving them a strong interest in ownership of the land and a tremendous amount of power in deciding what's to be done with it.

10) Indian tribes - they, too, have a strong interest in how the land is used and many have a central belief that the earth is a living conscious being to be treated with respect and care.

In short, there are a lot of interests here and a lot of resources that many people and industries would like to control. It will be interesting to see what's been done historically, as well as try to understand and anticipate what we might see going forward.

Here Comes Peter Cottontail...

They're a good source of protein. They don't take up much room. They're easy to raise, easy to breed, easy to butcher. They're delicious. And they're cute.

I'm talking about rabbits. Darling little fluffy bunnies.

And yes, I've eaten it, in Europe, in some sort of tasty stew. I haven't seen it much in the US - the occasional fancy-pants French restaurant will have it on the menu. But once upon a time, rabbits were a common food source here in the US, as recently as World War II. The meat fell out of favor but it could be making something of a comeback - Whole Foods has started selling whole butchered rabbits at certain stores.

As a meat source, rabbits make a lot of sense. They're better for the environment, as they require much less land and water than cattle; they're better for us health wise, rabbit meat is lean and low in cholesterol.

But there's a problem here for a lot of people, especially Americans. Bunnies are cute: they're soft and furry and they have those adorable little noses. They're one of the most popular pets in the country. And a lot of Americans are not too keen on the idea of eating them. A number of rabbit advocacy groups (37! There are at least 37 rabbit advocacy groups!) recently held a protest outside Whole Foods stores around the country,

I get that the idea of eating a pet makes people uncomfortable. People freaked out about the possibility of horse meat in their IKEA meatballs last year - not because horse meat isn't good (it is) but because we don't like the idea of eating horses (especially ones that have been secretly slipped into our meatballs). Same thing with dogs - almost everyone I know here is opposed to that idea, but they do eat dog meat overseas.

Here in the US? Well, we want pets and food to be completely separate from one another. We don't want to think too much about what we're eating or where it came from. And because we're so familiar with fluffy little bunnies, we don't like to find them on our dinner plates. But those same feelings don't apply to the cows, pigs and chickens that we happily gobble down.

Here's my thought - there's nothing that says you have to eat rabbit. People who want to eat it can eat it and the people who want to have pet bunnies can have pet bunnies. There might even be people out there who end up doing both - much like with backyard chickens. But it shouldn't be taken off the table. For those of us who want to continue eating meat, while also keeping the environment in mind, rabbit is a pretty good option, even if it is a cute one.

Polar Extremes

Last night, I met a guy who's been to the North Pole (multiple times), the South Pole (multiple times) and the top of Everest. I admit - I was a little skeptical when I went to his talk. I've come across a lot of other people who take on these big adventures just for the thrill or as a way to prove themselves, how hardcore they are. Climbing Everest, especially, seems like a big ego boost - and a selfish one at that, given the deaths in this year's avalanche.

But the guy who spoke last night - Eric Larsen - was a very thoughtful and smart fellow, who's spent 15 years exploring cold places. Part of what Larsen wants to do with his expeditions is raise awareness about the effects climate change are having on some of the most remote, most harsh environments on the planet, environments he hopes to document and preserve even though most people will likely never set foot there. As Larsen put it, he's doing these things not (in the words of British climber George Mallory) because they're there, but because they may not be there in the future. 

Case in point, his most recent expedition. Earlier this year, he and another guy, Ryan Waters, made another trip to the North Pole - skiing, snowshoeing and - because the route involved traversing open water - swimming (in a dry suit). The whole thing was unsupported (no outside assistance or supplies), so the two of them pulled 350 pounds of their own food and equipment on lightweight sleds.

Larsen dubbed this expedition "Last North" because he expects it will be one of the last times that anyone will be able to make this journey, which starts on land (Northern Ellesmere Island in Canada) and goes to the geographic North Pole. Climate change and a shrinking, unstable Arctic ice pack will make future journeys like this next to impossible. 

I like what Larsen is trying to accomplish and I like what he had to say about what people can do at home to mitigate the effects of climate change. Turn off the lights. Ride your bike. But it's nothing we haven't heard before and I get the feeling, based on the crowd that was at his talk last night, that he's kind of preaching to the choir. Most of the people who watch his movies or follow his expeditions are already doing these things and are already aware of the problems that climate change poses.

He's clearly got the knowledge and the experience and the smarts to be able to talk to more than a crowd of adventurers and grassroots environmentalists. So the next step should be to reach out to people who can effect real change, like, say, the Canadian government. Which, it's recently been reported, has been trying to prevent federal scientists from sharing the extent of Arctic ice loss with the public. 

That seems to me to be a richer target for his campaign to save these polar places. Larsen's latest expedition began and ended in Canada and he's seen first-hand what climate change is doing to the landscapes and wildlife of our northern neighbor. He might get a frosty reception (ha) but he's been to colder places and - if he really wants to preserve them, working with the people who can effect real change will be both important and necessary.

Red Meat

Red meat. I love it. 

Steak. Burgers. Boeuf bourguignon. Carne asada. The list goes on.

But it's a guilty pleasure. For years, reports have cited that raising cattle is pretty detrimental to the environment. Two new studies - including one put out by the National Academy of Sciences - add more evidence to the pile. 

Basically, raising cattle requires a tremendous amount of land and a whole lot of water - way more than raising dairy, pork, poultry and eggs. Plus, it puts about five times as many greenhouse gases into the air. As the report points out, if you really want to cut back on carbon emissions, giving up beef is better than giving up driving. 

So what to do? I certainly don't want to give it up, although I'm willing to scale back. A burger or steak just once a week - I can do that. That's probably not going to solve the problem.

But maybe Mother Nature is already providing us with a solution - the Lone Star tick. Its bite introduces a certain type of sugar into our bloodstream - a sugar that we don't make ourselves - and our bodies perceive it as a threat, developing antibodies for the next time we come across it...

...which is probably the next time we eat beef, pork, venison, or even some dairy. Before the tick bite, we had no problems digesting that particular sugar but now that we've been bitten, our immune system sees that sugar as a threat, kicks into high gear - hives, itching, swelling, anaphylactic shock - and sends us to the hospital.

Allergists are still trying to figure out the long term effects of a bite, as well as exactly how long the allergy lasts - it may turn out to be permanent for some people. But they'll have more opportunity to study the tick, as there have been an increasing number of cases across the eastern and southern US.

And one reason for the tick's spread? Climate change, caused in part by greenhouse gas emissions, such as raising cattle. Maybe I'll have a chicken sandwich after all.

Off Topic

I wanted to build off of yesterday's post, looking at the agricultural industry and especially the environmental impact of raising cattle, and I'd planned to write about my love-hate relationship with a good steak. But another, much more powerful story kept grabbing my attention - one that seemingly has nothing to do with the environment - so I'm opting to go in that direction.

Mike Brown was an 18-year-old kid who should have started college on Monday.

Instead, he was fatally shot by a police officer as he walked, unarmed, down the street in his grandmother's town of Ferguson, Missouri - a suburb of St. Louis - at 2:15 in the afternoon on a sunny Saturday.

Why? We don't really know. Eyewitnesses say Mike was shot while trying to surrender to the police after a verbal altercation. The police say Mike attacked the officer and tried to grab his gun. 

However it went down, it ended with a dead teenager lying in the middle of the street for hours as an increasingly agitated crowd gathered nearby, with protestors holding their hands in the air and chanting "Don't shoot me" and "We are Michael Brown." 

The next day saw more protests and a candlelight vigil for Mike turned violent, with looting and rioting. Protestors amassed again on Monday and Tuesday, although demonstrations remained largely peaceful.

The investigation of the circumstances leading to Mike's death continues, under the supervision of the St. Louis County police. The FBI is running its own investigation, looking into the possible violation of civil rights by the Ferguson police. One hopes that at least one investigation - if not both - will shine a light on what actually happened last Saturday afternoon.

But it's not just about the death of this young man. This is all wrapped up in a much larger package, containing the same issues that we, as a nation, have been grappling with for decades now - race, police brutality, economic inequality and a long history of discrimination. 

And what - you might ask - does this have to do with the environment?

Directly? Not much.

But I've spent many days reading about this story, following various Twitter trends (#IfTheyGunnedMeDown), watching the events unfold and hearing about the frustration and anger that many people feel. And while the environment is an incredibly important issue - one that affects us all - it's easy to see why it's so unimportant for people who are grappling with much more pressing problems.

Why would you care about the effect of rising sea levels on coastal communities when your kid could get gunned down in the street? And when your own, immediate physical safety can't be ensured, the preservation of endangered species probably isn't a high priority. Even though things like poor air quality and polluted water do pose a danger, they're not nearly as concrete a threat as multiple bullets being fired at you.

People aren't going to get on board with green initiatives when they face more obvious concerns - like hunger or discrimination. And in following Mike Brown's, it's becoming clear to me that we can't deal with environmental problems without addressing social problems, too. 

Water, Water Everywhere

Let's take a trip along the Snake River, from beginning to end, from its headwaters at the edge of Yellowstone National Park, all the way to where it joins the Columbia River, along the Idaho/Oregon border. It's a journey that author Richard Manning made for High Country News - not to take in the grandeur of the river's 1,078 miles, but to see the effects of industrial agriculture on both the waterway and the surrounding environment. 

Here's Manning's explanation:

Industrial agriculture impacts the entire planet, but the Snake's system – sizable, relatively isolated, discrete and significant – is a good place to assess the impacts at a local scale, examining the nuts and bolts as well as the weight of the whole. This accounting process is simple enough for those willing to pay attention: You begin where the water is clean and relatively natural, then follow the big river across an entire landscape defined by agriculture, to where the abused, exhausted water finally ends up.

Most of the river's journey is across the Snake River Plain; an area of high desert, where the Snake is just about the only source of water, other than the few inches of annual rain. So that river water is key to the biggest industry in this area - agriculture. It used to be potatoes and sugar beets that dominated Idaho farmland but more and more, farmers are planting corn and raising dairy cattle, two very water-intensive commodities. 

Manning gets into the politics of this - the subsidies for big agriculture, the poverty of many of the farm workers versus the wealth of factory farm owners, the fact that much of what is grown and raised on the Snake River Plain isn't exactly good for our health - and it's worthwhile to read what he has to say on these issues. 

But I want to focus on his main point - that the rise of agriculture has had a tremendously negative effect on the environment here. Much of land around the river has been converted to crop and grazing land, at the expense of native plants and wildlife. The dams and reservoirs that punctuate the water's flow prevent the natural rise and fall of the river, destroying the ability of many species to survive - I'm thinking of cottonwood trees, which rely on intermittent flooding; and salmon, which must swim upstream from the ocean to spawn in the Snake's many tributaries. 

And then there's the cow shit:

Basically, a single cow produces feces the equal of 20-40 humans. There's every reason to go with the high end of the range in the case of Holstein dairy cattle, champions in this regard, but assume a middle ground of 30. Under this math, the feedlots of southern Idaho offer to the environment the equivalent in raw sewage of 17 million people, dwarfing the effects of the state's 1.5 million human residents. 

Here's what blows my mind. That sewage isn't even treated. It's pumped out over the ground, where it filters through the porous volcanic soil back into the groundwater and back into the river itself. All those nitrogen compounds from the poop, plus the antibiotics fed to the cows to keep them healthy in unhealthy living conditions, plus the pesticides and fertilizers - all of that makes its way back into the groundwater (into people's wells) and into the river. 

Now where, you might ask, is the federal government in all of this? Aren't there limits on pollution? Something called the Clean Water Act? The state hasn't shown much interest in dealing with this but, according to Manning, the federal government believes Idaho has 13,057 miles of stream that fail to meet clean water standards. 204,091 acres of lakes/reservoirs. Agriculture - surprise! - is the biggest contributor to this pollution. But there are a lot of bureaucratic and legal loopholes that allow big ag to keep doing what they're doing - and regulators have no real recourse.

So all this nasty stuff ends up at the western end of the river, in the last few reservoirs before the Snake joins the Columbia. There it sits in what could be considered giant-sized sewage treatment lagoons, these reservoirs that are slowly filling up with toxic sludge. These are reservoirs are used for both recreation (swimming, fishing) and water supply, but there's no plan in place to clean them up or stop the ongoing pollution that stretches back across the state.

Drink up.

Open Spaces

Open Spaces and Mountain Parks - that's the name of Boulder's long-standing program to preserve land around the city, preventing the kind of development that leads to urban sprawl. 

The city currently holds 45 thousand acres of land – grasslands, forests, mountains. Some of it serves as wildlife habitat, some is used for agricultural purposes and then, of course, there are all the recreation opportunities. 150 (!) miles of trail crisscross this land, for hiking, horseback riding and biking.  That means I barely have to leave my house before I’m smack dab in the middle of some pretty gorgeous places.

While all this is great, I think it’s even more impressive that the whole thing got started over 100 years ago. In 1898, Boulder used revenue from a bond sale to acquire the alfalfa fields and apple orchards that ran along the community's western edge, right up against the Flatiron Mountains (an area that would later become the Chautauqua National Historic Landmark).  The government followed that up a few years later with a federal grant of 1600 acres of mountain land. And then the city levied yet another bond to purchase an additional 1200 acres in that same area.

But the big push came when Boulder experienced a massive population surge in the 1950s and 60s. The city more than doubled in size, housing underwent a major boom and the Boulder-Denver turnpike opened – all of that meant the open lands around the city were ripe for further development. Concerned about what this meant, a group of citizens created a group called PLAN Boulder County to campaign for land preservation.

One of their first achievements was the establishment of a “blue line,” which would prevent city water from being supplied above a certain elevation. That would limit development in the mountains' foothills.

Then, in 1964, a luxury developer proposed a fancy-pants hotel on a chunk of land known as the Enchanted Mesa, which overlooked Boulder from the west but activists were able to raise enough money from the community to buy the land.

And then, in 1967, voters approved a sales tax specifically for the purchase, management and maintenance of open spaces. Let me repeat that. They approved a tax ON THEMSELVES to protect the land around them. Pretty cool.

The plan has clearly changed the feel of Boulder, especially in comparison with a lot of other places in the west. Rather than a run-on of cities, one stringing right into the next, or a sprawled out suburban wasteland of big box stores, you drive through rural areas on every side before reaching the actual city. It sets the city apart, gives it a separate identity, makes it accessible and preserves some of its history.

But there’s at least one big downside, namely that it contributes to the high cost of living. Land is at a premium here and housing is expensive – meaning that while a lot of people can come visit (approximately 5.3 million a year access the Open Spaces), it’s only a very small few that can afford to stay.

Burning Through Cash

Timothy Egan has a great opinion piece on wildfire prevention in today's New York Times. What it boils down to is that we - meaning the nation - have become increasingly bad at thinking long-term. 

Egan writes, "Smart foresters had been warning for years that climate change, drought and stress would lead to bigger, longer, hotter wildfires. They offered remedies, some costly, some symbolic. We did nothing. We chose to wait until the fires were burning down our homes, and then demanded instant relief."

Those bigger, longer, hotter wildfires are a lot more expensive to combat and the Forest Service has, ahem, burned through its firefighting budget over and over again in recent years. That means they've had to borrow money from other projects such as logging, removing dry, hazardous fuels, and restoring damaged forest land. 

All of those projects are components in preventing future wildfires. So siphoning money from them only increases the risk of more fires. But Congress (God bless them, no one else will) chose to reject President Obama's request for emergency supplemental wildfire funding, saying the Forest Service and the Department of the Interior should be able to pay for firefighting out of the money they have. 

Between those two agencies, there's $886 million left to fight fires this fiscal year. That request from Obama was for additional monies because, as I mentioned earlier, the costs of fighting fires has exceeded the budget multiple times in the past decade. That extra money would have meant enough money to fight this year's fires without borrowing against those other programs that serve as preventative measures. 

Now, so far, this year has unexpectedly been one of the mildest fire seasons in the past decade. But it's only the beginning of August. Dozens of fires are currently burning in the West. There are at least two months of fire season left this year and probably more in California, where the season really lasts all year. There's still plenty of time for things to get worse. And the Forest Service is already putting projects on hold, anticipating that they'll need to money by the end of August. Just this week, Agriculture Secretary Tom Vilsack predicted that the firefighting budget would be depleted by then. 

Congress obviously had its doubts, which is why they denied that extra funding. And that brings me back to Egan's point about how the nation isn't exactly thinking about the long-term. Yes, if it's a mild year, the Forest Service won't need extra money. But think for a minute. The budget for firefighting has been exceeded many times in the past decade, there's an ongoing drought throughout the west, and the average temperatures continue to climb - even if this year is mild, the trend is still toward those longer, hotter wildfires. 

It's time to really think about how and when we want to fight fires and what kinds of resources we allocate to those programs. The less we do in advance, the bigger those fires - and the bills - are going to be. 

The Not-So-Great Salt Lake

Reuters published a piece earlier this week on how water in the Great Salt Lake is at its lowest level in at least 50 years. 

The lake is fed by 4 rivers and several streams but the recent mild winters have meant a smaller snowpack. That means less water to begin with and then much of that was also diverted for other uses, leaving leaves miles and miles of lake bed currently exposed.

I read a few articles on this issue, all of which mentioned the effect this has on boaters - Reuters points out that 70 boats in the 320-slip marina have had to be pulled from the water - but there's been nothing on the repercussions for wildlife in the area.

So I called up John Luft - he's the manager for the Great Salt Lake Ecosystem Program, part of the Utah Division of Wildlife Resources - to see what he had to say.

Luft told me his program is really geared toward managing and monitoring the lake's brine shrimp population. They also keep an eye on the brine fly, as well as parts of the bird population - certain shore birds and water birds, although not game birds.

He said that the decreased water levels means a higher saline content but it's unclear exactly what effect that will have on the brine shrimp. They feed on algae and the salinity will definitely affect the algae growing in the Great Salt Lake. But there are other elements that also factor in to algal growth - like water temperature. So if the conditions are right and certain kinds of algae do well - the kind the brine shrimp like - the brine shrimp will be fine. But if it's not the kind of algae favored by brine shrimp, that could mean a drop off in population. It's still too soon to tell.

The brine fly, though, looks like it will have a rougher time. During the fly's larval stage, it attaches to the bioherms - which are calcium carbonate deposits on the bottom of the lake, kind of like coral. But as the water drops, those bioherms are exposed to air, making them uninhabitable for the brine fly larvae. That means fewer brine flies...

...and less food available for birds. Luft says that when the lake levels drop like this, he often sees birds bypass the lake altogether when they're migrating. That can be very taxing on them - they're used to getting such an abundant food source from the Great Salt Lake and when it's not there, the birds can die because they're unable to sustain themselves during the winter. 

Not much can be done except to hope for enough snow next year (and the year after that) to increase the runoff and help replenish the water levels. Fingers crossed. But in the meantime, it might be nice if reports on this issue pointed out that it's not just the poor boaters that are having a rough time.

Beginnings

I'm a week away from starting a Scripps Fellowship at the Center for Environmental Journalism with the University of Colorado in Boulder.

The program lasts an academic year - from mid-August 2014 until mid-May 2015. I'll be auditing a full course load of any classes I'm interested in taking, be it poetry or physics or painting. There's a weekly two-hour seminar for me and the four other fellows, as well as several field trips and a trip to New Orleans for the Society of Environmental Journalists annual conference. And I'll be tackling at least one project of my choosing - currently, I'm planning to look at how a century of forest mismanagement and the current state of climate change have created the types of wildfires that are altering the landscape of the American west.

Now, one goal of the program is to take seasoned journalists and make them more aware of - and capable of reporting on - the environment; helping them develop the ability to translate complex ideas into concepts that are accessible to the general public. The founder of the program, Edward Scripps (grandson of the founder of Scripps Howard) was himself a journalist who cared deeply about the environment. 

Personally, though, my goal is to also use this year to make some changes in my career. I've worked in radio for 8 years - I want to give writing a shot. And after 8 years of covering a wide variety of stories, following the daily ups and downs of whatever news is of the moment, I want to take some time to work with one subject that's really important to me - the natural world and the environment. 

It's something that fills me with real joy - a golden sunrise, a hike along a rushing stream in the woods, a tromp through powdery, quiet snow - and here in Boulder, I get the chance to take advantage of some truly gorgeous wilderness. But the state of the environment and the treatment of the natural world also saddens me - the acidification of the oceans, the death of thousands of species, the altering of the landscape. I want to understand the effect humanity's actions have had on the planet and, while I don't think we will destroy it, I think we can do a better job of taking care of it.

So we'll see where this year takes me. I'm not a scientist - my background is in history and international relations - but I find the world to be a pretty fascinating place and I like sharing what I'm learning with other people (hopefully not in an obnoxious way). I plan to use this blog as a way to post information on stories I find interesting, little tidbits of knowledge I pick up from classes and my fellow fellows, and the ideas and thoughts that grow out of exploring the great outdoors. 

Here we go... dear readers, please be gentle.