Revelator Reads: 6 Thrilling New Environmental Books for November

This month brings us new books about wildlife trafficking, pesticides and the history of the oceans.

The nights are getting shorter, the days are getting cooler, and the bookstores are stocking up on great new titles. Here are six new environmentally themed books coming our way this November, addressing such issues as pesticides, poaching and climate change. Check ‘em out:

Precautionary TaleA Precautionary Tale: How One Small Town Banned Pesticides, Preserved Its Food Heritage, and Inspired a Movement by Philip Ackerman-Leist

Let’s learn from history so we can avoid repeating it. This incredible book tells the true story of Mals, Italy, a pristine community in the Alps that found itself threatened by “Big Apple” —massive agriculture producers that poisoned the area with pesticides. The story of how this tiny town stood up and protected itself stands as a testament that real change is possible. (Chelsea Green Publishing, Nov. 9, $19.95)

bonfire krysten ritterBonfire by Krysten Ritter

Ritter, probably best known for her role as superhero-turned-PI Jessica Jones, brings us her first novel starring a similarly hard-hitting female protagonist: an environmental lawyer returning to her small, rural home town and getting into a conflict with the corrupt, polluting company. Sign me up for a binge-read. (Crown, Nov. 7, $26)

oceans historyThe Oceans: A Deep History by Eelco J. Rohling

The history of Earth is wet — and fascinating. Rohling, a professor of ocean and climate change, takes us on a journey dating back 4.4 billion years of history (well, mostly prehistory) while also providing readers with critical information about the oceans’ roles in the planet’s climate systems. If you want to understand the planet and climate change, this book is for you. (Princeton University Press, Nov. 21, $29.95)

Many: The Diversity of Life on Earth by Nicola Davies and Emily Sutton

Here’s one for the next generation. Davies and Sutton follow up their award-winning book Tiny Creatures with a look at the wildlife and plants that fill the planet — and how humans are screwing up the system and pushing everything into extinction. The book asks an important question: What sort of world would it be if it went from having many types of living things to having just one? Yeah, it sounds bleak, but it’s also quite marvelous. (Candlewick, Nov. 7, $15.99)

extinction marketThe Extinction Market: Wildlife Trafficking and How to Counter It by Vanda Felbab-Brown

Tigers and elephants and rhinos, oh why? Felbab-Brown, a senior fellow at the Brookings Institute, has the answers. She traveled to three continents to understand the “causes, means and consequences of poaching and wildlife trafficking” — and maybe how to stop the process and save some of these species from disappearing. (Oxford University Press, Nov. 15, $24.95)

The New Carbon Architecture: Building to Cool the Climate by Bruce King

Can we build better buildings that actually help to stave off climate change? Yes, according to King, who examines new construction techniques that could change the way we build and how buildings’ energy and water use impact in the planet. A must-read for architects, engineers, policy-makers and anyone interested in the future of construction technologies. (New Society Publishers, Nov. 27, $29.99)

That’s it for our list this month, but what about yours? Let us know what you’re reading in the comments.

Previously in The Revelator:

Revelator Reads: Great New Environmental Books for Fall

Revelator Reads: 8 New Environmental Books for September

Revelator Reads: 7 New Environmental Books for August

Revelator Reads: 7 New Environmental Books for July

Cliven Bundy’s Armed Insurrection, Rooted in Religious Extremism, Goes on Trial

Bunkerville prosecution prepares to address the Bundy family’s dangerous history of extremism on public lands. Oregon victims hope that this time guilty verdicts will prevail.

BURNS, Ore.— In two heavily armed, militia-backed confrontations with the federal government in 2014 and 2016, Nevada scofflaw rancher Cliven Bundy and his family successfully created a self-serving narrative of a God-fearing, hard-working, true-blooded American family fearlessly battling an overreaching, oppressive and unconstitutional federal bureaucracy.

Bundy, 71, became a national figure in April 2014 when he forced federal land managers to release cattle seized for trespassing on public lands in southeast Nevada. Nineteen months later two of Bundy’s sons, Ammon and Ryan, led an armed group that seized Malheur National Wildlife Refuge, about 32 miles south of this remote ranching community in southeast Oregon. In both instances, the elder Bundy leveraged growing public dissatisfaction with the federal government to promote his assertion that federal tyranny is crushing individual rights.

Their David vs. Goliath storyline, blown out across three years of high-profile media coverage, attracted support from the far-right militia groups proliferating and itching for a fight during the latter years of the Obama administration, as well as from conservative politicians financed by extractive industries seeking to turn over ownership of hundreds of millions of acres of federal public land to the states and private entities.

The rhetoric of an overreaching federal government has given legal cover to the Bundy family and its supporters. The success of this propaganda campaign was underscored by the unexpected October 2016 acquittal of Ammon and Ryan Bundy and five others on federal conspiracy and weapons charges in connection with the 41-day militia takeover of the Oregon wildlife refuge.

The “heroic” framing embodied by that legal win will be put to a major test again beginning this week in a Las Vegas federal court. Cliven Bundy and his two sons, along with militia leader Ryan Payne, are charged with conspiring to thwart the 2014 government roundup of cattle near the town of Bunkerville, Nev. after Bundy refused to pay more than $1 million in delinquent grazing fees dating back 20 years. The four men each face 22 felony charges, including counts of conspiracy against and assault on federal officers.

In that incident Cliven Bundy, backed by militia members, forced National Park Service and U.S. Bureau of Land Management employees to release the cattle under the threat of violence. Hailed by Bundy supporters as the Battle of Bunkerville, the incident is considered a major victory in the far-right populist effort to wrest control of public lands from the federal government.

The flashpoint has had far-ranging effects.

“They basically concluded that you can point guns at the federal government and the government will back down with no consequences,” says University of Oregon geography professor Peter Walker, who studies the social and political environmental aspects of the American West.

In Burns, a ranching town of 5,000 that serves as the Harney County seat, there is a far different and much darker and terrifying narrative of the Bundy family and their militia allies that is emerging in the aftermath of the armed occupation of the community.

Ammon Bundy aligned with a coalition of militia groups and tried to use heavily armed men to intimidate community leaders into supporting their call to reject federal authority over the county, says recently retired Harney County judge Steve Grasty.

But community leaders and local ranchers refused to join their cause. Harney County Sheriff David Ward deftly avoided a violent confrontation that the Bundys were trying to provoke during three months of heavy militia presence in Burns.

“Ammon Bundy genuinely thought he was going to be able to lead a national revolution,” Walker says during an interview in his office in Eugene, Ore. “He didn’t do his homework. He came to the wrong place.”

That’s because Harney County ranchers and federal land-use managers have a long history of collaborating on land-use and water issues at the Malheur National Wildlife Refuge and Malheur National Forest, spearheaded by the High Desert Partnership, a nonprofit that successfully bridges the often formidable gap between environmentalists, ranchers and the federal land managers. Harney County ranchers refused to join Ammon and Ryan Bundy in their call to ranchers across the West to tear up their federal grazing permits.

The reality of the Bundy/militia confrontation in Burns reveals a narrative that’s very different from their finely honed, folksy image of salt-of-the-earth ranchers protecting forgotten men and women from rampant federal abuses.

It wasn’t the federal government that was overreaching and abridging the rights of citizens. Rather, it was Bundy fanaticism that put innocent lives at risk, Ward says.

“They are extremists,” says Ward, who was hailed by Grasty for exercising patience and restraint in the extremely volatile crises that overwhelmed this quiet community. “Any disagreement with them makes you the enemy.”

Throughout the Malheur occupation, militias continued to menace Burns, leaving many terrified that a bloodbath was an errant firecracker away.

“This was day after day after day after day,” Grasty says during a lengthy interview in his home about 10 miles north of Burns where his anger steadily built the longer he talked about what happened. “It was hurtful to your mind. How do you set that aside? That to me is what was hurtful.”

Asked if his community was subjected to an ongoing act of terrorism by the Bundys and their militia allies, Grasty pauses for a moment and looks off into the distance. “Yep. If they can fragment (you),” he says, before pausing again. “It’s a horrible weapon.”

How did all this happen?

Experts and witnesses tell The Revelator that the roots of the Bundy family’s uncompromising and authoritarian approach over the use of America’s public lands can be traced to their belief in the historic Mormon entitlement to the promised land of Zion and their fringe interpretation of the U.S. Constitution first posed by a far-right Mormon writer.

“It all comes back to religion,” says Walker, who is writing a book on the Bundy-led occupation of Malheur and Burns.

Zion, Militias and Public Lands

Academic research on Mormon history, theology and the Mormon migration to the Great Basin to create what the early western settlers called the promised land of Zion in the mid-19th century provides a framework for understanding the Bundy family’s refusal to accept federal authority over public lands.

The militia-supported Bundy aggressions in Bunkerville, Burns and Malheur —while often not Mormon themselves — can be traced to early Mormon religious and political beliefs that have contributed to modern-day right-wing extremism, says Betsy Gaines Quammen, a professor of world religions and culture at the Yellowstone Theological Institute, whose 2017 doctoral dissertation at Montana State University was entitled “American Zion: Mormon Perspectives on Landscape, from Zion National Park to the Bundy Family War.”

“I can tell you with great confidence that Zion is part of this public-land issue and that the militia has been part of the Mormon world view since the very beginning,” Quammen says during an interview in Bozeman, Mont.

The roots date back to long before the Civil War. After the 1844 murder of Mormon founder Joseph Smith by a mob in Carthage, Ill., his successor Brigham Young led the faithful to the Salt Lake Valley in 1847. There they would establish Zion in the Great Basin that encompassed most of present-day Utah and Nevada.

In Mormon doctrine Zion refers to the place where people “pure of heart” will live together. Also known as the New Jerusalem, Zion is supposed to be built on the American continent, with Independence, Mo. identified as the specific location. But conflict in Missouri and Illinois, along with divine inspiration, led Brigham Young to move the Mormons to the Salt Lake Valley.

Young declared the Salt Lake Valley area “a first-rate place to raise Saints.” Furthermore, he insisted that if they lived worthily, the Lord would never allow them to be driven from the promised land, according to a July 1988 article in the Ensign, a church publication. Prior to their exodus West, Mormons had already created the largest militia in the United States: the Nauvoo Legion. Only the U.S. Army had more forces.

Initially Zion was centered in the Salt Lake Valley, but it soon grew to encompass far more land. The Mormon land claims expanded under Brigham Young’s theocracy when he created a provisional state in 1849 called Deseret, stretching from Oregon to Arizona. This proposed mega-state was never accepted by the federal government, which created the territory of Utah in 1850 encompassing only part of the proposed Deseret. Utah was granted statehood with its present boundaries in 1896.

Thomas Murphy, chairman of the anthropology department at Edmonds Community College in Lynnwod, Wash., says Young declared Mormons had a divine right to claim the land. The right still resonates. “You see that claim of divine right echoed with the Bundys,” he says during an interview in his office.

Murphy, who was once threatened with excommunication from the Mormon Church for his research on the genetics of American Indians that debunked the Mormon belief that Indians are descendants of ancient Israelites, says the Bundy family appears to believe they are fulfilling God’s commands.

“You see a righteous fury in the Bundy family, a sense that God is on their side,” he says.

The Mormon historic claim of Zion bestowed upon the faithful by God now includes hundreds of millions of acres of public land controlled by the federal government, says Quammen. Bunkerville, Burns and Malheur fall within either the boundaries of the historic Mormon provisional state of Deseret or the spiritual lands of Zion.

The tension between religious claims to a promised land and the legal and Constitutional federal right of ownership of the same land can create conflict, especially when the Mormon affiliation with militias is added to the mix, Quammen says.

“The public lands are still considered part of Zion,” she says. “And the Mormon militia has been a long-running, multigenerational idea in Mormon history.” (The Mormon Church no longer has a militia.)

The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (the official name of the Mormon church) has a taken a two-pronged approach with the Bundys. On one hand it publicly repudiated the Malheur refuge takeover after the Bundys and others repeatedly referred to Mormon scripture and inspiration from God as part of their justification for seizing the federal property.

Ammon Bundy explained his God-inspired reasoning for coming to Harney County and requested other like-minded individuals to come to Harney County to challenge the federal government in a Jan. 1, 2016 video, the day before he led the takeover of the refuge.

In the wake of the Malheur seizure, the church issued the following statement on Jan. 6, 2016:

“While the disagreement occurring in Oregon about the use of federal lands is not a Church matter, Church leaders strongly condemn the armed seizure of the facility and are deeply troubled by the reports that those who have seized the facility suggest that they are doing so based on scriptural principles. This armed occupation can in no way be justified on a scriptural basis. We are privileged to live in a nation where conflicts with government or private groups can — and should — be settled using peaceful means, according to the laws of the land.”

Mormon leaders, however, have not taken any public steps to excommunicate the Bundys from the church.

Cliven Bundy told the Salt Lake Tribune that he “has never had a problem with the bishop,” referring to his local religious leader. Excommunications are usually matters handled at the local level.

Murphy, who has firsthand experience in the Mormon excommunication process, says Mormon leaders do not want to cause a split in the church by excommunicating the Bundy family.

“They fear they would lose a lot of local membership,” he says. “A lot of Mormons would be relieved because this is embarrassing. But a lot of Mormons might stand with the Bundys.”

Mormon Determination to Protect Zion

Quammen says the arduous trek across the country by Mormon pioneers fleeing Nauvoo, Ill., after Smith’s murder and the failure of the federal government to protect Mormons from earlier violent persecution in Ohio, Missouri and Illinois left two long-lasting beliefs when they arrived in the Great Basin.

“This was their Zion and they were going to do anything they could to protect it,” she says. “And, I would add, in addition to that they also landed there with a lot of hatred against the government.”

Cliven Bundy claims his ancestors started grazing cattle in the late 19th century on desert in southeast Nevada near the Virgin River, just downstream from St. George, Utah, which was an early Mormon settlement in a region called Dixie. Quammen had an opportunity to visit the family’s ranch where she interviewed Cliven, Ammon and Ryan. A devout Mormon, Cliven Bundy has 14 children.

Some Mormons, like the Bundys, continue to believe the lands within Zion are sacred and rightfully controlled by the descendants of the first Mormon pioneer families that put the land to “beneficial use” through grazing, Quammen says.

“That was one of the first things that Cliven said to me,” Quammen says. “The first Mormons were here and they had their horse and the horse takes a bite of grass and the moment they take a bite of grass, that’s the first beneficial use.”

In other words, once the use of a natural resource provides sustenance to a horse or livestock has occurred, permanent rights to the renewable resource are created. Cliven Bundy himself made this claim, according to a January 2016 opinion column Quammen wrote for The New York Times.

In the column she recounted that Cliven Bundy told her:

“So now we have created them (rights) and we use them, make beneficial use of them, and then we protect them. And that’s sort of a natural law, and that’s what the rancher has done. That’s how he has his rights. And that’s what the range war, the Bundy war, is all about right now, it’s really protecting those three things: our life, liberty and our property.”

Bundy’s claim that his rights to the land are established by creating “beneficial use” of the property through an animal grazing is unsupported by federal law or Supreme Court rulings. He appears to be conflating Western water rights that are based, in part, on the seniority of the first person to put water to “beneficial use” establishing rights to the water.

Cliven Bundy’s claim to property also ignores that fact that nearly all the land he was grazing his cattle on has been owned by the United States since it was ceded from Mexico in 1848 as part of the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo that ended the Mexican-American War. The land originally belonged to the Paiute tribes. Cliven Bundy only has title to 160 acres. Despite Bundy’s claim that his family had been grazing cattle in the area since the late 19th century, there’s no official record showing his family had legal title to land prior to 1948.

Clark County Recorder documents posted by KLAS-TV show the 160-acre Bunkerville ranch Bundy calls home was purchased by his parents, David and Bodel Bundy, from Raoul and Ruth Leavitt on Jan. 5, 1948. The purchase included the transfer to the Bundys of certain water rights, including water from the nearby Virgin River. Cliven Bundy was born in 1946.

Beyond that, the elder Bundy also accepted federal jurisdiction over the public grazing lands for decades and paid grazing fees on his Bunkerville federal allotment from 1973 through 1993. He ceased paying the fees after the Bureau of Land Management reduced the size of his allotment and the number of cattle that could be legally grazed in order to protect the endangered Mojave desert tortoise.

The Bureau canceled his grazing permit in 1994, but Bundy continued to trespass his cattle on more than 1,200 square miles of Bureau and National Park Service land at the Lake Meade National Recreation Area. The ongoing encroachment led to the roundup of Bundy’s cattle that culminated with the armed standoff between Bundy, his militia supporters and federal law enforcement.

The Skousen Connection

In addition to the Mormon doctrine of divine right to the land, the Bundys have also embraced the teachings of a far-right, anti-communist Mormon conspiracy theorist named W. Cleon Skousen, who died in 2006.

The Bundys and their militia supporters frequently carried copies of Skousen’s annotated, pocket-sized, old-English version of the U.S. Constitution published by a conservative organization called the National Center for Constitutional Studies during the Bunkerville, Malheur and Burns occupations, turning to it to justify their actions. Cliven Bundy even offers constitutional lessons via YouTube that are heavily tainted by Skousen.

Skousen’s pocket Constitution includes a four-page preface of fragmented quotes from the Founding Fathers, several of which reference the importance of religion and morality and the gifts of Heaven. Constitutional scholars say some of the quotations are either deliberate alterations or taken out of context, The Los Angeles Times reported in a January 2016 story.

According to his obituary, Skousen worked for the FBI for 16 years under J. Edgar Hoover, taught a popular class at Brigham Young University, and published 46 books, including The Naked Communist, which has sold more than a million copies since 1958.

Ironically Skousen attracted considerable attention from the FBI for his extreme views and logged a 2,000-page file on his activities, including accusing President Dwight D. Eisenhower of being a Soviet agent. He also campaigned to eliminate the federal income tax, wanted to convert Social Security system to private retirement accounts, and opposed all federal regulatory agencies, including the Occupational Safety and Health Administration and the Environmental Protection Agency.

He also wanted to repeal the minimum wage, eliminate unions, nullify anti-discrimination laws, remove barriers separating church and state and sell off the public lands and national parks.

Skousen’s controversial political theories serve as an intellectual bridge among the Bundys’ Old West Mormonism, the far-right wing militias and the American lands movement’s efforts to transfer federal lands to local governments and private interests.

The connection goes back decades. The National Center for Constitutional Studies, which has published 15 million copies of the Skousen-annotated Constitution, was founded by Skousen and later taken over by Utah businessman Bert Smith, who played a leading role in the first Sagebrush Rebellion in the 1970s, according to a 2016 profile in E&E News.

Smith also donated $35,000 to help found the American Lands Council, an organization dedicated to facilitating the transfer of federal lands to the states, in 2012. American Lands Council is also funded by the Koch Brothers and taxpayer money allocated by county commissions, High Country News reported in a May 2015 expose.

“Smith’s influence in inciting these western anti-public lands and rancher revolts, particularly in Utah, cannot be overstated,” wrote Chris Zinda, a New Harmony, Utah, activist who monitors state and federal land issues for the St. George, Utah-based Independent.

Another major Bundy influence is former Mormon Church President Ezra Taft Benson, who also served in President Eisenhower’s cabinet as secretary of Agriculture. As Mathew Bowman, the author of The Mormon People: The Making of an American Faith, wrote in a January 2016 column in Time Magazine, “Benson adopted an important Mormon concept of ‘free agency,’ which maintains all human beings are free to choose from right and wrong, and that the purpose of our lives on earth is to cultivate our moral insight and ability to choose good.”

Benson, Bowman wrote, was one of the first to write that large government restricts free agency. “He and the Bundys after him believe that government is not merely inefficient, but an inherent moral hazard,” he wrote.

The Bundys’ constitutional interpretations take a simplistic, literal reading of the Constitution and often ignoring a body of Supreme Court decisions that run contrary to their arguments, particularly in regard to whether the federal government has a right to own vast tracts of land.

“These folks are very constitutional based, but only on the part of the Constitution that they like,” says Sheriff Ward, who had “eight to 10” hours of often tense conversations with Ammon Bundy on the Constitution and the role of federal government and religion.

Ward says when he attempted to explain his views on the Constitution and religion, Ammon Bundy would get angry. Bundy, Ward says, continued to pressure him to “change my stance” and made “quite a few threats” that were generally “vague.” This was just a prelude to a deluge of emailed death threats from anonymous email accounts. Some threatened Ward with hanging if he didn’t knuckle under, he says. “There were blatant death threats that I forwarded to the FBI,” he says.

Walker, the University of Oregon professor, is convinced Ammon Bundy’s constitutional philosophy is traced to Skousen. “When you listen to Ammon Bundy talk about the Constitution, it’s almost word-for-word from stuff Skousen had written,” he says.

And while Benson was wary of big government, he also served in the federal government at the highest level as a cabinet secretary. Cliven Bundy has taken Benson’s cautious view of big government much further.

“(Cliven) Bundy basically says he does not believe in the federal government. It just doesn’t exist,” Quammen says. “He believes in the county. He believes in the sheriff. He believes in ‘we the people.’ But he doesn’t believe in the federal government.”

A History of Violence

Cliven Bundy repeatedly told land managers with the Bureau of Land Management that any effort to remove his cattle from public lands would be met with force. His threat continued a history of violent conflict between Mormons and non-Mormons and at times between Mormons and the federal government.

The United States nearly went to war with the Mormons in 1858 in the so-called “Utah War.” Smithsonian Magazine writer David Roberts provides a comprehensive overview of the events leading up to the conflict in a June 2008 feature story on the 150th anniversary of the little known conflict.

“The Utah War culminated a decade of rising hostility between Mormons and the federal government over issues ranging from governance and land ownership to plural marriage and Indian affairs, during which both Mormons and non-Mormons endured violence and privation,” Roberts wrote.

Armed conflict was averted when Mormon Church President and Utah Territorial Governor Young agreed to allow the federal government to appoint a non-Mormon as governor.

The year before the Utah War, the most notorious clash between a Mormon militia and non-Mormons occurred in southern Utah when a militia brutally murdered 120 Arkansas men, women and children at the Mountain Meadows Massacre. They were executed after being convinced to surrender their guns.

The church tried to cover up its association with the murders for nearly 150 years, blaming it instead on an American Indian tribe.

In 2007 the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints officially blamed local church leaders in Cedar City, Utah, for the September 1857 massacre and stated that then-church President Young sent a message not to harm the emigrants, but it arrived too late. Some historians theorize Young ordered the attack, but they acknowledge there is no proof.

Richard Turley, assistant historian of the church and co-author of Massacre at Mountain Meadows, told National Public Radio in a 2008 interview that the slaughter of the unarmed men, women and children, some of whom were begging for their lives when they were killed, shows how quickly atrocities can unfold.

“These people who carried out the massacre were in many ways ordinary… individuals who got caught up in emotion, caught up in the circumstances of their times and began to make decisions that led to committing an atrocity,” Turley said. “And what was disturbing about that was the realization that the difference between ordinary people like us and these people who committed atrocity was really a short distance.”

At the time of the massacre, church leaders feared the federal government planned to take control of the Mormon-controlled territory and stamp out the widespread Mormon practice of polygamy. Mormon leaders warned that the incoming settlers traveling on the Arkansas wagon train could be working with the army in the days leading up to the massacre.

Overt violent conflict between the Mormon Church and federal authorities has largely been supplanted by a struggle over control of public lands. The federal government owns 65 percent of the land in Utah. The Utah state legislature remains dominated by Mormons (88 percent) and is supporting the transfer of federal land to state control.

The Utah Legislature passed the Transfer of Public Lands Act and Related Study in 2012, seeking to force the federal government to turn over much of its public lands to the state. At the federal level, Senator Orrin Hatch and Congressman Rob Bishop, both Mormons, have sponsored federal legislation to turn over public lands to the state.

Murphy, the Edmonds Community College professor, says federal land ownership in Utah is a source of significant conflict because it’s a tangible reminder of the federal government’s role in ending Brigham Young’s theocracy and eventually forcing the church to renounce polygamy in 1890.

“It is the federal government through its control of public lands that is still preventing Mormons from realizing this vision,” he says.

More than 160 years after the Mountain Meadows Massacre, and after decades of resentment toward federal control of public lands, Cliven Bundy first clashed with the federal government at Bunkerville.

Guided by religious inspiration and a Skousen-influenced constitutional claim to the land, Cliven Bundy whipped up fear of an oppressive federal government to rally a militia to his Nevada ranch. Militia members pointed high-powered rifles at federal employees attempting to execute a court order authorizing the removal of Bundy’s cattle from federal land. The margin for a mistake that could have triggered bloodshed was razor thin.

Shortly after the federal government released the cattle and withdrew from the area, Ammon Bundy acknowledged that the militia was used to instill fear in the federal employees.

“We did have militia and weapons, and that was important because (the federal officers) didn’t know whether or not we were going to fire on them,” Ammon Bundy says in a video that was presented as evidence by federal prosecutors in a case against Bunkerville defendant Scott Drexler, who pleaded guilty to a misdemeanor charge last month.

All Eyes Turn to Las Vegas

While many in Burns are trying to put the Bundy/militia occupation behind them, community leaders, including former county judge Steve Grasty and Sheriff Dave Ward, are hoping that justice is finally served in Las Vegas. And by justice, they mean that the Bundys and their supporters should be held accountable for their actions during the Bunkerville standoff.

Ward says he “was very disappointed” after Ammon and Ryan Bundy and five others were acquitted in federal court for their role in the Malheur National Wildlife Refuge. He worries that if they’re acquitted again in Las Vegas it would send a dangerous signal to them and their supporters, including the militias, that “there is even less accountability than they thought there was at the beginning.”

Grasty is still bitter over the trauma inflicted on his community by the Bundys and their supporters. “I have a hard spot in my heart for Ammon Bundy and his friends,” he says.

The importance of the Las Vegas trial cannot be understated, he says.

“If they are found guilty, the system has run its course, and it does put others on notice that this model is not a good model to follow,” Grasty says. “There has to be a better model to follow. Armed insurrection isn’t the way to do it.”

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The 301 Mammal Species Most Threatened by Overhunting

The bushmeat trade and traditional medicine could push tigers, chimpanzees, pangolins and hundreds of other species toward extinction

Earth’s mammals are being eaten into extinction. A massive study published last year in the journal Royal Society Open Science took a deep dive into the worldwide wildlife trade and identified the 301 mammal species most at risk from overhunting.

The species, which are typically eaten for food or for their purported medicinal qualities, include tigers, several medium-sized cats, 126 species of primates, all eight species of pangolins, dozens of ungulate species, more than 20 species of bats, several kangaroos, four species of rhinos, and a long list of rodents. Only 2 percent of these species have stable or increasing populations, according to the paper.

As the authors wrote, this is a much bigger story than just the 301 mammal species. It’s also about the cascading effect of the loss of these animals on their native ecosystems. For example, when large predator species disappear, the populations of their former prey animals explode, creating consequences for other animals and vegetation. Beyond that, these impending extinctions also affect human food security, economic livelihoods, and even the transmission of zoonotic diseases.

The picture presented by this paper is admittedly bleak, but it ends on a hopeful note with a list of five conservation actions that could help turn all of this around. Those include improving legal protections for wildlife, empowering local communities to benefit from wildlife conservation, providing alternative sources of food, and increasing education and family planning to lower human birth rates, especially in rural areas.

There is little doubt that wild-caught meat provides an essential element to human nutrition in many areas around the world. What is also clear, however, is that current hunting for all of these species exists at unsustainable levels. Left unchecked, it could lead to ecological collapse in some of the areas of the world least able to adapt. That would spell doom not just for the animals, but also the people who surround them.

Below, you can find the full list of the 301 mammal species identified by the paper as being the most at risk.

Abbott’s Duiker Cephalophus spadix
Addax Addax nasomaculatus
Addra Gazelle Nanger dama
Aders’ Duiker Cephalophus adersi
African Ass Equus africanus
African White-bellied Pangolin Phataginus tricuspis
Alaotran Gentle Lemur Hapalemur alaotrensis
Alpine Musk Deer Moschus chrysogaster
Alpine Wallaby Thylogale calabyi
Alpine Woolly Rat Mallomys gunung
Andean Bear Tremarctos ornatus
Andean Cat Leopardus jacobita
Andean Hairy Armadillo Chaetophractus nationi
Andean Titi Monkey Callicebus oenanthe
Anhui Musk Deer Moschus anhuiensis
Ankarana Sportive Lemur Lepilemur ankaranensis
Anoa Bubalus depressicornis
Aoudad Ammotragus lervia
Arfak Ringtail Pseudochirulus schlegeli
Arnhold’s Mouse Lemur Microcebus arnholdi
Asian Tapir Tapirus indicus
Asiatic Black Bear Ursus thibetanus
Attenborough’s Echidna Zaglossus attenboroughi
Audebert’s Brown Lemur Eulemur rufus
Aye-aye Daubentonia madagascariensis
Bactrian Camel Camelus ferus
Baird’s Tapir Tapirus bairdii
Balabac Chevrotain Tragulus nigricans
Bald-headed Uacari Cacajao calvus
Bamboo Lemur Hapalemur griseus
Banded Duiker Cephalophus zebra
Banks Flying Fox Pteropus fundatus
Banteng Bos javanicus
Barasingha Rucervus duvaucelii
Bay Colobus Procolobus badius
Bear Cuscus Ailurops ursinus
Bear Macaque Macaca arctoides
Bearded Pig Sus barbatus
Bearded Saki Chiropotes satanas
Betsileo Sportive Lemur Lepilemur betsileo
Bezoar Capra aegagrus
Biak Spotted Cuscus Spilocuscus wilsoni
Black Colobus Colobus satanas
Black Crested Gibbon Nomascus concolor
Black Crested Macaque Macaca nigra
Black Howling Monkey Alouatta pigra
Black Lemur Eulemur macaco
Black Musk Deer Moschus fuscus
Black Rhinoceros Diceros bicornis
Black Snub-nosed Monkey Rhinopithecus bieti
Black Spider Monkey Ateles paniscus
Black Tree-kangaroo Dendrolagus ursinus
Black-and-white Ruffed Lemur Varecia variegata
Black-bearded Flying Fox Pteropus melanopogon
Black-bellied Pangolin Phataginus tetradactyla
Black-faced Black Spider Monkey Ateles chamek
Black-faced Lion Tamarin Leontopithecus caissara
Black-footed Gray Langur Semnopithecus hypoleucos
Black-headed Spider Monkey Ateles fusciceps
Black-headed Uacari Cacajao hosomi
Black-shanked Douc Pygathrix nigripes
Black-spotted Cuscus Spilocuscus rufoniger
Black-tailed Hutia Mysateles melanurus
Blonde Capuchin Cebus flavius
Blue-eyed Black Lemur Eulemur flavifrons
Bongolava Mouse Lemur Microcebus bongolavensis
Bonobo Pan paniscus
Bougainville Giant Rat Solomys salebrosus
Bougainville Monkey-faced Bat Pteralopex anceps
Bouvier’s Red Colobus Procolobus pennantii
Brazilian Tapir Tapirus terrestris
Brazilian Three-banded Armadillo Tolypeutes tricinctus
Broad-nosed Gentle Lemur Prolemur simus
Brow-antlered Deer Rucervus eldii
Brown’s Hutia Geocapromys brownii
Buff-cheeked Gibbon Nomascus gabriellae
Buff-headed Capuchin Cebus xanthosternos
Buffy Saki Pithecia albicans
Bulmer’s Fruit Bat Aproteles bulmerae
Burmese Snub-nosed Monkey Rhinopithecus strykeri
Calamanian Deer Axis calamianensis
Cape Pangolin Smutsia temminckii
Capped Gibbon Hylobates pileatus
Caroline Flying Fox Pteropus molossinus
Carolines Fruit Bat Pteropus insularis
Cat Ba Langur Trachypithecus poliocephalus
Ceram Fruit Bat Pteropus ocularis
Chacoan Peccary Catagonus wagneri
Chapman’s Prehensile-tailed Hutia Mysateles gundlachi
Chilean Pudu Pudu puda
Chimpanzee Pan troglodytes
Chinese Forest Musk Deer Moschus berezovskii
Chinese Goral Naemorhedus caudatus
Chinese Goral Naemorhedus griseus
Chinese Pangolin Manis pentadactyla
Chinese Pinyin Lepus hainanus
Chinese Water Deer Hydropotes inermis
Clouded Leopard Neofelis nebulosa
Collared Brown Lemur Eulemur collaris
Collared Mangabey Cercocebus torquatus
Colombian Woolly Monkey Lagothrix lugens
Common Gibbon Hylobates lar
Common Hippopotamus Hippopotamus amphibius
Coquerel’s Sifaka Propithecus coquereli
Crowned Lemur Eulemur coronatus
Cusp-toothed Flying Fox Pteralopex atrata
Cuvier’s Gazelle Gazella cuvieri
Cuvier’s Hutia Plagiodontia aedium
Cyprian Wild Sheep Ovis orientalis
Danfoss’ Mouse Lemur Microcebus danfossi
Daraina Sportive Lemur Lepilemur milanoii
Delacour’s Langur Trachypithecus delacouri
Diana Guenon Cercopithecus diana
Dingiso Dendrolagus mbaiso
Dorcas Gazelle Gazella dorcas
Doria’s Tree Kangaroo Dendrolagus dorianus
Dryad Monkey Cercopithecus dryas
Dumoga-bone Macaque Macaca nigrescens
Dusky Pademelon Thylogale brunii
Dwarf Gibbon Hylobates klossii
Eared Hutia Mesocapromys auritus
Eastern Hoolock Hoolock leuconedys
Eastern Long-beaked Echidna Zaglossus bartoni
Ebony Leaf Monkey Trachypithecus auratus
Fleurete’s Sportive Lemur Lepilemur fleuretae
Francois’s Langur Trachypithecus francoisi
Gaur Bos gaurus
Gebe Cuscus Phalanger alexandrae
Geelvink Bay Flying Fox Pteropus pohlei
Geoffroy’s Black-and-white Colobus Colobus vellerosus
Geoffroy’s Peruvian Woolly Monkey Lagothrix cana
Germains Langur Trachypithecus germaini
Gerp’s Mouse Lemur Microcebus gerpi
Giant Armadillo Priodontes maximus
Giant Bandicoot Peroryctes broadbenti
Giant Bushy-tailed Cloud Rat Crateromys schadenbergi
Giant Ground Pangolin Smutsia gigantea
Giant Muntjac Muntiacus vuquangensis
Goitered Gazelle Gazella subgutturosa
Golden-capped Fruit Bat Acerodon jubatus
Golden-crowned Sifaka Propithecus tattersalli
Golden-mantled Tree Kangaroo Dendrolagus pulcherrimus
Goodfellow’s Tree Kangaroo Dendrolagus goodfellowi
Gray Dorcopsis Dorcopsis luctuosa
Gray Leaf Monkey Presbytis hosei
Gray’s Sportive Lemur Lepilemur dorsalis
Gray-shanked Douc Langur Pygathrix cinerea
Greater Monkey-faced Bat Pteralopex flanneryi
Greater One-horned Rhino Rhinoceros unicornis
Grewcock’s Sportive Lemur Lepilemur grewcockorum
Grey Ox Bos sauveli
Grey-headed Lemur Eulemur cinereiceps
Grizzled Leaf Monkey Presbytis comata
Grizzled Tree Kangaroo Dendrolagus inustus
Hainan Black Crested Gibbon Nomascus hainanus
Hairy-eared Dwarf Lemur Allocebus trichotis
Hamlyns Monkey Cercopithecus hamlyni
Hatinh Langur Trachypithecus hatinhensis
Hawks’ Sportive Lemur Lepilemur tymerlachsoni
Himalayan Field Mouse Apodemus gurkha
Himalayan Muskdeer Moschus leucogaster
Hirola Beatragus hunteri
Hog Deer Axis porcinus
Holland’s Sportive Lemur Lepilemur hollandorum
Hoolock Gibbon Hoolock hoolock
Hubbard’s Sportive Lemur Lepilemur hubbardorum
Humes Rat Hadromys humei
Huon Tree Kangaroo Dendrolagus matschiei
Idmi Gazella gazella
Ifola tree-kangaroo Dendrolagus notatus
Indian Pangolin Manis crassicaudata
Indonesian Porcupine Hystrix pumila
Indri Indri indri
James’ Sportive Lemur Lepilemur jamesorum
Javan Deer Rusa timorensis
Javan Pig Sus verrucosus
Javan Rhinoceros Rhinoceros sondaicus
Jentink’s Duiker Cephalophus jentinki
Johnston’s Genet Genetta johnstoni
Jolly’s Mouse Lemur Microcebus jollyae
Kafue mole-rat Fukomys kafuensis
Kashmir Muskdeer Moschus cupreus
King Colobus Colobus polykomos
Lao Langur Trachypithecus laotum
Laotian Rock Rat Laonastes aenigmamus
Large-spotted Civet Viverra megaspila
Lesser Slow Loris Nycticebus pygmaeus
Lesser Weasel Lemur Lepilemur ruficaudatus
Liberian Mongoose Liberiictis kuhni
Light-necked Sportive Lemur Lepilemur microdon
Lion-tailed Macaque Macaca silenus
Little Celebes Cuscus Strigocuscus celebensis
Little Earth Hutia Mesocapromys sanfelipensis
Long-beaked Echidna Zaglossus bruijnii
Long-haired Spider Monkey Ateles belzebuth
Long-tailed Langur Presbytis potenziani
Lowland Gorilla Gorilla gorilla
Maclaud’s Horseshoe Bat Rhinolophus maclaudi
Madagascan Flying Fox Pteropus rufus
Madagascan Fruit Bat Eidolon dupreanum
Makira Flying Fox Pteropus cognatus
Malayan Pangolin Manis javanica
Malayan Sun Bear Helarctos malayanus
Manado Fruit-bat Rousettus bidens
Mandrill Mandrillus sphinx
Marbled Cat Pardofelis marmorata
Marianas Flying Fox Pteropus mariannus
Markhor Capra falconeri
Marsh Deer Blastocerus dichotomus
Masoala Sportive Lemur Lepilemur scottorum
Masoala Woolly Lemur Avahi mooreorum
Milne-edward’s Sifaka Propithecus edwardsi
Mittermeier’s Sportive Lemur Lepilemur mittermeieri
Mongolian Saiga Saiga tatarica
Mountain Anoa Bubalus quarlesi
Mountain Nyala Tragelaphus buxtoni
Mountain Pademelon Thylogale lanatus
Muriqui Brachyteles arachnoides
Namdapha Flying Squirrel Biswamoyopterus biswasi
Negros Naked-backed Fruit Bat Dobsonia chapmani
New Guinea Pademelon Thylogale browni
Nilgiri Tahr Nilgiritragus hylocrius
Northern Glider Petaurus abidi
Northern Hydromyine Paraleptomys rufilatus
Northern Muriqui Brachyteles hypoxanthus
Northern Pig-tailed Macaque Macaca leonina
Northern White-cheeked Gibbon Nomascus leucogenys
Nubian Ibex Capra nubiana
Ornate Flying Fox Pteropus ornatus
Owston’s Banded Palm Civet Chrotogale owstoni
Pagai Island Macaque Macaca pagensis
Palawan Bearded Pig Sus ahoenobarbus
Palawan Flying Fox Acerodon leucotis
Peruvian Yellow-tailed Woolly Monkey Oreonax flavicauda
Phayre’s Langur Trachypithecus phayrei
Philippine Brown Deer Rusa marianna
Philippine Pangolin Manis culionensis
Philippine Warty Pig Sus philippensis
Phillipine Spotted Deer Rusa alfredi
Pig-tailed Langur Simias concolor
Poeppig’s Woolly Monkey Lagothrix poeppigii
Poncelet’s Giant Rat Solomys ponceleti
Preuss’s Guenon Cercopithecus preussi
Preuss’s Red Colobus Procolobus preussi
Reclusive Ringtail Pseudochirops coronatus
Red Goral Naemorhedus baileyi
Red Slender Loris Loris tardigradus
Red-capped Monkey Cercocebus atys
Red-eared Guenon Cercopithecus erythrotis
Red-fronted Gazelle Eudorcas rufifrons
Red-ruffed Lemur Varecia rubra
Red-shanked Douc Pygathrix nemaeus
Rennell Flying Fox Pteropus rennelli
Rhim Gazella leptoceros
Ring-tailed Lemur Lemur catta
Roatan Island Agouti Dasyprocta ruatanica
Sahamalaza Peninsula Sportive Lemur Lepilemur sahamalazensis
Salim Ali’s Fruit Bat Latidens salimalii
Sambar Rusa unicolor
Sambirano Lesser Bamboo Lemur Hapalemur occidentalis
Sanje Crested Mangabey Cercocebus sanjei
Saola Pseudoryx nghetinhensis
Scott’s Tree-kangaroo Dendrolagus scottae
Seal’s Sportive Lemur Lepilemur seali
Seris Tree Kangaroo Dendrolagus stellarum
Shortridges Capped Langur Trachypithecus shortridgei
Siau Island Tarsier Tarsius tumpara
Siberian Musk Deer Moschus moschiferus
Siberut Macaque Macaca siberu
Silky Sifaka Propithecus candidus
Sloth Bear Melursus ursinus
Soemmerring’s Gazelle Nanger soemmerringii
Southern Giant Slender-tailed Cloud Rat Phloeomys cumingi
Southern White-cheeked Gibbon Nomascus siki
Sulawesi Babirusa Babyrousa celebensis
Sulawesi Giant Squirrel Rubrisciurus rubriventer
Sulawesi Harpy Fruit Bat Harpyionycteris celebensis
Sumatran Rhinoceros Dicerorhinus sumatrensis
Sunda Flying-fox Acerodon mackloti
Takin Budorcas taxicolor
Talaud Acerodon Acerodon humilis
Talaud Bear Cuscus Ailurops melanotis
Telefomin Cuscus Phalanger matanim
Temminck’s Flying Fox Pteropus temminckii
Thorold’s Deer Cervus albirostris
Tiger Panthera tigris
Tonkean Black Macaque Macaca tonkeana
Tonkin Snub-nosed Monkey Rhinopithecus avunculus
Tufted Ground Squirrel Rheithrosciurus macrotis
Udzungwa Red Colobus Procolobus gordonorum
Uta Hick’s Bearded Saki Chiropotes utahickae
Visayan Warty Pig Sus cebifrons
West Caucasian Tur Capra caucasica
White-cheeked Spider Monkey Ateles marginatus
White-faced Langur Presbytis frontata
White-fronted Brown Lemur Eulemur albifrons
White-lipped Peccary Tayassu pecari
Wild Yak Bos mutus
Wondiwoi Tree-kangaroo Dendrolagus mayri
Wright’s Sportive Lemur Lepilemur wrightae
Yap Flying Fox Pteropus yapensis

 

A version of this article was originally published by Scientific American.

How the Search for Mythical Monsters Can Help Conservation

The quest for Bigfoot and other “hidden species” can actually aid real-world species.

After fears the Loch Ness Monster had “disappeared” last winter, a new sighting in May 2017 was celebrated by its enthusiasts. The search for monsters and mythical creatures (or “cryptids”) such as Nessie, the Yeti or Bigfoot is known as “cryptozoology.”

On the face of it, cryptozoology has little in common with mainstream conservation. First, it is widely held to be a “pseudoscience,” because it does not follow the scientific methods so central to conservation biology. Many conservation scientists would find the idea of being identified with monsters and monster-hunters embarrassing.

Moreover, in the context of the global collapse in biodiversity, conservationists focus their attentions on protecting the countless endangered species that we know about. Why waste time thinking about unknown or hypothesized creatures? Most people are rightly skeptical of sightings of anomalous primates or plesiosaurs in densely populated regions that have been surveyed for hundreds of years.

However, while there are strong ecological and evidence-based reasons to doubt the existence of charismatic cryptids such as Nessie and Bigfoot, conservationists should not automatically dismiss enthusiastic searches for “hidden” species. In fact, cryptozoology can contribute to conservation in several ways.

Known unknowns

Firstly, the process of mapping out the world’s species is far from finished. Conservationists aim to protect and preserve known plants and animals – but it is not always appreciated how many remain “undescribed” by scientists. Since 1993, more than 400 new mammals have been identified, many in areas undergoing rapid habitat destruction. The number of undescribed beetles, for example, or flies, let alone microscopic organisms, will be huge.

The pygmy three-toed sloth was identified in 2001. It exists only in one 4sq km mangrove forest in Panama. MaxPixel
We are entering a new age of discovery in biology with descriptions of new species reaching rates comparable to the golden era of global exploration and collection in the 18th and 19th centuries. The advent of methods such as DNA barcoding offer the possibility of automated species identification.

A recent mathematical model predicted that at least 160 land mammal species and 3,050 amphibian species remain to be discovered and described. Other predictions suggest that a large proportion of undescribed species will go extinct without ever being recorded or conserved at all – a phenomenon we might term “crypto-extinction.”

The father of cryptozoology, Bernard Heuvelmans, argued that “the great days of zoology are not done.” In the sense that so many species remain undiscovered, he was correct. The main principle behind cryptozoology is soundly zoological: species exist that humans have not discovered or described. The quest to locate and protect the world’s biodiversity is one that conservation and cryptozoology share, even if cryptozoologists tend to focus their attentions on the large, mythical and monstrous, over the small, plausible, and non-mammalian species in our midst.

Cryptozoology involves rampant speculation and unconventional surveying methods. But controversial new “findings” can inspire a renewed quest to better map out the natural world. This was the case with the cryptid spiral-horned ox, never seen by a scientist in the flesh and known only from a few horns found in a market in Vietnam. The debate between rival camps of zoologists about whether the ox existed pulled together historic accounts, local folklore, and samples of museum specimens – all classic cryptozoological methodologies.

Shared histories

The second reason why conservationists should not automatically discount cryptozoology is its shared history, co-evolving with conservation in the 20th century and interesting many conservationists along the way.

One notable connecting thread comes through Peter Scott, the founder of the World Wildlife Fund and creator of the Red Data Book method of classifying endangered species. Scott first grew interested in Loch Ness Monster reports in 1960 and in the same year wrote to Queen Elizabeth offering to name the – undiscovered – cryptid Elizabethia nessiae in her honor. Although the Queen was said to be “very interested,” her advisers wrote back saying it would be inappropriate to attach her name to something viewed as a monster or likely to be a hoax.

Loch Ness Lizzie? Khadi Ganiev / shutterstock

In an infamous article in Nature in 1975 Scott published underwater photographs appearing to show a creature with a diamond-shaped flipper. Scott and his co-author, the American Nessie enthusiast Robert Rines, named the creature Nessiteras rhombopteryx with the intention that it could then be preemptively protected under the Conservation of Wild Creatures and Wild Plants Act (1975).

Although he knew that grainy photographs were insufficient taxonomic evidence in the long term, Scott argued “the procedure seems justified by the urgency of comprehensive conservation.” For Scott, conservation was at the heart of the hunt for Nessie.

Scott was not the only curious conservationist. In his book Searching for Sasquatch, Brian Segal examines several other mainstream conservationists who grew interested in cryptozoological ideas and endeavors.

More recently, when specimens of a species named Homo floresiensis were found on the island of Flores in Indonesia in 2003, Henry Gee, an editor at Nature, wrote:

If animals as large as oxen can remain hidden into an era when we would expect that scientists had rustled every tree and bush in search of new forms of life, there is no reason why the same should not apply to new species of large primate, including members of the human family.

Homo floresiensis went extinct around 50,000 years ago. Tim Evanson / Smithsonian Museum of Natural History, CC BY-SA

Cryptozoology – in from the cold?

Given conservation’s haunting relationship with the problem of absence, is it time to bring cryptozoology, in some form at least, in from the cold? A rapprochement would demand changes on both sides.

Cryptozoology’s appeal currently comes from its celebration of the anomalous and monstrous. A “post-monstrous” outlook might aid in forging new coalitions, and a stronger focus on plausible undiscovered species (such as the thousands of smaller amphibians and mammals predicted to exist) than on charismatic, but highly unlikely, cryptids.

The third way that cryptozoology can contribute to conservation is through the sense of wonder. From the conservation perspective, something might be learned from the Nessie and Bigfoot hunters about telling new stories of weird and wonderful discoveries alongside the more familiar tales of flagship species decline.

Instead of rebuffing them, conservationists might consider enlisting cryptozoologists as part of a wonder zoology that accelerates conventional taxonomic efforts. Indeed, the EDGE of Existence conservation initiative is doing exactly this by focusing its attention on “weird” endangered species.

Other examples of wonder zoology include the descriptions of new (although known to local people) primates by Marc van Roosmalen in the Amazon, and the “lost world” of new species found in or near Vietnam’s Vu Quang Nature Reserve in the 1990s.

The saola, or Vu Quang ox, was first discovered in 1992 and first photographed in the wild in 1999. Bill Robichaud / Global Wildlife Conservation, CC BY-SA

One promising model of how conservationists and cryptozoologists might engage is sketched out by the paleozoologist Darren Naish. Naish’s “sceptical cryptozoology” does not dwell on the question of whether cryptozoology is pseudoscientific or not but focuses instead on the ground it shares with conventional zoology.

Stories of the discovery and rediscovery of species routinely punctuate the depressing catalogue of extinction after extinction. Wonder and speculation – however untethered – must play a role in energizing conservation actions.

Although no one expects conservation NGOs to start searching for Bigfoot, it would be remiss of them to ignore the powerful ecological imagination that can be inspired by cryptozoology.

Bill Adams, Moran Professor of Conservation and Development, University of Cambridge and Shane McCorristine, Visiting Researcher, Department of Geography, University of Cambridge

This article was originally published on The Conversation. Read the original article.

Looking Beyond the Charismatic Megafauna

Wolves and polar bears are great, but so are bats, fish, plants and invertebrates (among others worthy of our attention).

There’s a phrase that describes species like polar bears, wolves, gorillas and giant pandas: “charismatic megafauna.”

There’s nothing wrong with being a large, good-looking species, but charisma can often come with a price. For one thing, all the species I just listed are endangered — many of them in no small part to their attractiveness.

Perhaps more importantly, though, humans — including journalists — can sometimes give these charismatic species a bit too much of the spotlight. That leaves a lot of other species on the sidelines. What about snails, bats, snakes, fish, mussels, insects and even plants? Do they get the attention they need from people? Or do they get left behind by the conservation community? Beyond that, what can we do to give these species more focus, and why do they deserve the effort?

To help address these questions, I gathered an all-star team of experts for a panel discussion called “Beyond Megafauna,” which took place in Pittsburgh last month at the annual conference of the Society of Environmental Journalists. Joining me on the panel were wildlife journalist Jason Bittel; Tierra Curry, senior scientist at the Center for Biological Diversity (publishers of The Revelator); and Justin Wheeler, communications specialist with the Xerces Society for Invertebrate Conservation.

You can hear the whole conversation — including some great questions from the journalists in the audience — below:

Images:

The Secret Value of Trash

Some people think beach cleanup efforts don’t accomplish much. They’re missing part of the picture.

On September 16, 2017, environmental advocates Robert DiGiovanni, Jr., and Beth Fiteni slowly walked along West Meadow Beach in Stony Brook, New York, scanning their eyes over the sand for trash. Joining them were 14 other people — a mix of conservationists, college students and retirees — all helping pluck garbage off the beach. The group was just one of five taking part in cleanups on West Meadow Beach that day, all part of the Ocean Conservancy’s 32nd annual International Coastal Cleanup, a global effort to get people out of their houses and onto beaches to help clean up trash — mostly plastic.

This year nearly 800,000 other volunteers worldwide participated in the cleanup. It and other efforts to clean beaches have gained traction in the movement to address plastic pollution.

Most conservation experts, including DiGiovanni, founder and chief scientist at the Atlantic Marine Conservation Society, and Fiteni, founder and president of Green Inside and Out Consulting, support cleanup efforts. But while beach cleanups are surely an immediate help to coastal ecosystems, many such experts say the beach-cleanup model is flawed, and that it can actually encourage continued pollution of natural environments.

“What we’re doing — cleaning up our own mess — addresses just a symptom of the problem, not the problem itself,” says DiGiovanni. “In a week’s time, the same amount of trash we’ve cleaned up will wash right up, or be littered, onto the beach again.”

Together, DiGiovanni, Fiteni and their volunteers covered a 99,025-square-foot area of shoreline (92,000 square meters), cleaning up hundreds of plastic items such as lighters, plastic utensils and balloons. They recorded each item on a data sheet that they later sent to the Ocean Conservancy. To minimize their own trash footprint, DiGiovanni and Fiteni provided volunteers with reusable gardening gloves and plastic bags for collecting trash.

beach cleanup
© Erica Cirino, all rights reserved.

What the group collected was a very small portion of the 18,062,911 pounds (8,193,199 kilograms) of trash collected globally this year by all International Coastal Cleanup participants — which is an even smaller fraction of the 18,000,000,000 pounds of plastic debris that’s dumped, littered, or otherwise finds its way into the oceans every year, according to a recent study.

Although each participant in this cleanup didn’t collect a very large amount of trash individually, and more would soon replace what was picked up, it turns out it was the nature of the collected trash that mattered. Data on the trash that’s been cleaned up — during the international effort and also cleanups held by other nonprofits that collect and share plastic pollution data publicly, such as Hawaii Wildlife Fund, Trash Hero, Algalita, Plastic Change and 5 Gyres — can tell experts more about human plastic use and pollution patterns.

“This information provides information about debris ‘hotspots’ and identifies which items are most common on beaches,” says George Leonard, chief scientist at the Ocean Conservancy, which has the world’s largest and longest-running public database on marine debris. He adds that this data can be used by environmental advocates to promote policies such as better waste management infrastructure, bans on ecologically damaging items like plastic bags and foam and more scientific research on the plastic pollution problem’s scale and scope — and these actions are what might ultimately stem the tide of plastic pollution into the natural environment.

Government programs like the U.S. National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration’s Marine Debris Program and the European Commission’s Marine Directive also perform routine research on plastic prevalence on beaches and in the oceans. Of particular concern is microplastic — tiny bits of plastic smaller than 5 millimeters in diameter that come from larger pieces of plastic that are broken up by the sun, waves and wind. These bits of plastic have been found to absorb and leach toxic chemicals, which can kill marine life when consumed.

And all of this environmental harm starts with people using plastic items on land. “Plastics enters the oceans through a wide variety of pathways on land, including illegal dumping, poor waste management, littering, laundering of textiles and use of personal care products that contain plastic ‘microbeads,’” says Leonard.

Creating plastic-alternative materials and handling plastic trash more responsibly are important components to reducing global plastic pollution. However, experts say that changing habits appears to be the key to stopping plastic pollution. And habits can change with greater awareness and policies aimed at curbing or stopping use of plastic products. Using data collected by the Ocean Conservancy and other groups, and also their personal experiences cleaning up trash from coastal ecosystems, ocean advocates and concerned citizens have swayed hundreds of municipalities and countries across the globe — from San Francisco, California, to Kenya, Africa — to ban or tax plastic bags, plastic utensils and/or plastic/foam food containers. Studies analyzing these bans, including those on the cities of Los Angeles and San Jose, have found them to be effective at reducing plastic bag use and litter.

Until all people understand how their actions are connected to plastic pollution in the natural environment and policies are implemented worldwide, beach cleanups are a good way of raising awareness, according to Allison Schutes, associate director for the Ocean Conservancy’s Trash Free Seas Program, which oversees the annual cleanup events. “Our hope is that at some point in the not-too-distant future we’ll no longer need the International Coastal Cleanup; our collective efforts to stop trash at its source will have succeeded.”

© 2017 Erica Cirino. All rights reserved.

Seeds of Truth: Johnny Appleseed’s Context and Legacy

A new graphic novel digs into the man, the myth, the legend — and the society that inspired them all.

It’s not always easy to separate the man from the myth.

Take Johnny Appleseed, for example. To most people Johnny’s a figure of fable, a loner who wandered the country with a tin pot on his head, dropping apple seeds into the soil wherever he traveled, spreading the fabulous fruit from American coast to coast.

Pretty much all of that is false.

The truth of Johnny Appleseed — a complex man named John Chapman (1774-1845) — is much more interesting. Chapman was a businessman, a nonstop traveler, a missionary, an avowed pacifist and socialist, a pioneering advocate of protecting nature, an anti-industrialist and yes, a man who loved his apples.

Alas, the historical truth about this man-become-myth is also more than a bit more frustrating for people who want to dive into the details. Many details about Chapman’s life remain a mystery. He left few records, and precious little was written about him while he was still alive, making it difficult for modern writers to reconstruct his coming and goings nearly two centuries after his death.

So what’s a biographer to do with this dearth of information? One answer is to write about what little we do know, while also delving into Chapman’s significance, both in his own time and today.

johnny appleseedThat’s the path taken by scholar Paul Buhle and cartoonist Noah Van Sciver in their new graphic novel, “Johnny Appleseed” (Fantagraphics Books, $19.99). The book covers the few facts that we know about Chapman’s life and simultaneously explores the Appleseed myth, along with the nascent philosophies and religious trends of his day.

And what a day (or century) it was. Chapman was born just before the American Revolution and died not long before the Civil War. These were heady, contradictory years for American society. As Buhle writes in his introduction, Chapman’s wandering decades were a time of “ardent reformism including women’s rights, abolitionism, and vegetarianism,” all of which existed side by side with “slavery, the advancing white settlements, the plundering of natural resources, and the dispossession of Native Americans.”

Interestingly enough, Chapman’s story starts with both apples and the absence of American Indians. In one of the book’s early scenes, Buhl and Van Sciver recount a discussion between young Johnny and his widower father, Nathaniel, a veteran of the American Revolution and the battle at Bunker Hill. The father reveals that the apple trees surrounding their family farm were planted by Iroquois before British soldiers wiped out both the people and their orchards.

We don’t know exactly how growing up with a veteran father in a landscape scarred by war affected young Johnny, but the through-line is clear: He grew up to become a planter of apples as well as one of the few American travelers who treated the native people he encountered with respect — enough so that they embraced him in return.

Chapman’s journeys started not long after his childhood ended. According to accounts, he grew weary of running a farm with his father and stepmother. One day in 1796, he decided, on the spur of the moment, to take off and start wandering, his younger brother at least briefly in tow. In depicting the departure, Buhle and Van Sciver illustrate both young Chapman’s appreciation of nature and the rapid loss of wildlife in the face of encroaching civilization. “To me,” Chapman says in the book, “Nature is God’s haven. I can tell you name of dozens of flowers, and trees of kinds we don’t have much anymore in our parents’ part of Massachusetts.”

Johnny Appleseed
Noah Van Sciver/Fantagraphics

John’s brother didn’t stay on the trail long, apparently, so Chapman turned to a different companion: books. As he traveled he devoured volumes on religion and philosophy, an important element of the rest of his life. His journeys took place at a time of great religious experimentation in the Americas, seeing the birth of the Quakers, the Shakers and the Swedenborgians (today known as the New Church). This latter religion, with its embrace of nature and socialism, appealed to Chapman, and he became a missionary, spreading its word along with his apple seeds. Historians still debate exactly how Chapman encountered Swedenborgian teachings, but Buhle spends a full chapter exploring them in the book, providing context for how they influenced Chapman and, to a degree, modern environmentalism.

Johnny Appleseed
Noah Van Sciver/Fantagraphics

No matter what role religion played in his life, nature played a larger one. The scenes depicted in the graphic novel — lushly illustrated in Van Sciver’s delicate pen-and-ink style — show a country where Chapman felt at home, strikingly unfamiliar to our modern world. “In the few accounts of travelers meeting Johnny along his travels,” Buhle writes, “he expressed a simple delight of being alive in God’s kingdom of nature. And he might have asked, as a Midwest writer did about his childhood during Johnny’s old age, ‘Have you lain beside some pond, a broadening of a creek above an ancient beaver dam at night, and watched the muskrats at the frays and feeding? Have you stood sometimes, in the sheer delight of it, and drawn into distended lungs the air clarified by hundreds of miles of sweep over an inland sea?’”

No, most of us haven’t. These worlds gone by, captured in black and white ink, give the book a haunting quality. You can’t help but wonder, as you read, what parallel world we might be living in today if Johnny Appleseed and his ilk had not become such footnotes in history — if their thoughts and ideas had taken seed, like apples, across the American landscape.

Alas that world is long gone, but Johnny Appleseed’s influence — and that of the philosophies he embraced — still runs through a deep vein in modern life. Buhle weaves together a tapestry of linked threads, ranging from naturalist John Muir to the migrant workers of the early 20th century to Woodie Guthrie and the Beat poets and beyond.

And then there’s Chapman’s physical influence on our daily lives: the apples that pervade our agriculture, our stores and our diets. Even this is an environmental story: Buhle briefly recounts the 1980s fight against the apple pesticide Alar that in many ways still influences the environmental movement.

Yes, Johnny Appleseed as most of us know him may be a myth. The details of his real life are few and far between. But his influence remains, and this book illuminates that legacy.

Previously in The Revelator:

John James Audubon Takes Flight in New Graphic Novel

Climate Change Is Causing a ‘Catastrophic’ Shortage of Food for Birds in the Galápagos

Researchers forecast that a decline in availability of nutritious sardines will shrink the population of Darwin’s famous Nazca boobies.

One of the most famous bird species in the Galápagos Islands faces a potentially catastrophic shortage of nutritious food, and climate change may be to blame.

News of this nutritional deficiency, which is affecting Nazca boobies (Sula granti) — the iconic bird species Charles Darwin studied before writing his groundbreaking work On the Origin of Species — comes from a new study published recently in PLOS One. The study makes a rare connection between ocean warming and species population effects in the tropics.

“All the data suggests that they are struggling to find food,” says Emily Tompkins, a Ph.D. student at Wake Forest University and lead author of the study, who started fieldwork in 2010. “Not only are they getting a lower quality prey, but we’re also seeing that they’re coming back with fewer fish, or more often than not, no fish at all.”

Tompkins joined an ongoing study that has been observing the species for decades. After 30 years of logging data on the birds’ diet, breeding and survivability, researchers on Isla Española found evidence of a shrinking population. Within the past decade the boobies’ reproductive success, which is defined as the probability of producing an independent offspring, fell by approximately 50 percent. Why? Because the warmer waters surrounding the islands became intolerable for their main prey, the sardine (Sardina pilchardus), which can only live in waters measuring between 14 degrees Celsius and 20 degrees Celsius.

“Nazca boobies are top predators, their diet composition is simple, and loss of their sardine prey is catastrophic,” the study’s conclusion reads.

To compensate for the scarcity, Tompkins says, Nazca boobies started switching their primary diet in 1997 to flying fish (several species from the genus Exocoetidae), which are basically junk food compared to the nutrient- and lipid-rich sardine. Scientists found that chicks raised primarily on the flying fish had a slower growth rate, and their survivability declined.

What happened to the sardines is still a mystery. Some populations may have died off, while some may have moved closer to the poles. Tompkins thinks their disappearance might have something to do with oceanographic variables like the Pacific Decadal Oscillation, a recurring pattern of warm and cool water-temperature phases that cycle every 20-30 years. That pattern has long seemed to be correlated with abundance in sardine populations, although there isn’t any concrete data to back it up.

“We don’t know for sure what happened to the sardines,” says Tompkins. “Studying pelagic populations of fish [which live neither close to the bottom of the ocean or near the shore] is much harder,” than studying marine birds, she points out.

Regardless of where the sardines went, the study does conclude that if the waters around the Galápagos warm at the rate scientists have forecasted (up by 4.5 degrees Celsius), the sardines will be completely absent from those waters within 100 years. This has implications not only for Nazca boobies but for other species that rely on them as a primary food source, including blue-footed boobies (S. nebouxii) and Galápagos sea lions (Zalophus wollebaeki).

“If the current links that we’ve uncovered right now in the last decade continue to hold in the future, and if sardines are absent in the Galápagos, the data that we have, which comes from really fine-scale observations of individual reproductive success and survival suggest that the population will decline,” says Tompkins. “Much of the success of these birds is dependent on their food source.”

This study represents a rare look at the effects of climate change in the tropics, which are famed for being cradles of endemism and fountains of biodiversity. David Anderson a professor of biology at Wake Forest University considers this study — which he co-authored — significant because “few connections have been made between ocean warming and population effects in tropics.” He says the poor prognosis for the Nazca boobies may apply to other predator species in the region which will also face stiff challenges adjusting to rapid climate change in the tropics due to their typically long generation times and little capacity for adaptive evolution.

“We can expect similar consequences for food webs everywhere under climate change, with unfamiliar combinations of predators and prey being thrown together by the changes in habitat,” says Anderson.

© 2017 Francis Flisiuk. All rights reserved.

Previously in The Revelator:

Lobsters in Hot Water: Climate Change Threatens Maine’s Most Valuable Fishery

The Fungus Killing America’s Bats: “Sometimes You’ll See Piles of Dead Bats”

Since it first turned up in 2007, white-nose syndrome has killed millions of bats — and it’s not done yet.

It’s Friday evening in Pittsburgh, and the mosquitoes are out in force. One bites at my arm and I try to slap it away. Another takes the opportunity to land on my neck. I manage to shoo this one off before it tastes blood.

I’m at Carrie Furnaces, a massive historic ironworks on the banks of Pennsylvania’s Monongahela River. Stories-tall rusting structures loom all around me, as do the occasional trees poking their way out of the ground. A tour guide, leading a group from the Society of Environmental Journalists conference, tells me the soil here is full of heavy metals and other pollutants from the factory, which operated for nearly a century before closing in 1982. Plants and trees have started to recolonize the area, but cleaning up the soil itself remains an unlikely task that could cost millions and millions of dollars — if it’s even feasible. Another nearby site, he tells me, was so polluted that it couldn’t be reclaimed and had to be paved over.

For a moment, as I walk the grounds around Carrie Furnaces, I wonder about the toxic substances biding their time beneath my feet. Quickly, though, I become more concerned about what’s in the air — or what’s missing from it. As another bug lands on my hand, I can’t help but think we’d be experiencing fewer mosquito bites if Pennsylvania’s bat populations had not been devastated over the past 10 years.

It’s a day earlier, and the sun is still young in the morning sky. A group of journalists from the conference has piled onto a bus on our way to Laurel Caverns, the biggest cave system in Pennsylvania. With us are representatives of the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, there to tell us about a fungus called Pseudogymnoascus destructans, best known by the name of the often-fatal disease it causes in bats, white-nose syndrome (WNS).

Since the pathogen first turned up in 2006, millions of bats have fallen victim to its deadly embrace. It often collects around their snouts, which is where the disease got its name, but that’s not where the worst damage occurs. “It erodes right through their wing membranes,” Robyn Niver, endangered species biologist with the Service, tells us during the two-hour bus ride from downtown Pittsburgh. “Flight is extremely important for bats, and the fungus affects their basic ability to move around and forage for themselves.”

The easily transmissible fungus also does something to bats’ metabolism, causing the animals to wake up during hibernation more than twice as often as they normally would. This increase in winter activity burns up the bats’ winter reserves of fat, water and electrolytes, leaving the animals hungry, thirsty and confused. “If they go out to forage in the winter, there’s nothing available to them,” Niver says. “They’ll go out on the landscape and just die. Sometimes you’ll see piles of dead bats. Other times they’re just gone.” Caves that once held tens of thousands of bats now, more often than not, now lie nearly empty.

bat bones
Bat skulls and bones on the floor of Aeolus Cave, a white-nose syndrome site in Vermont. Photo: Ann Froschauer/USFWS

That’s the case in Laurel Canyons. Before the disease turned up, the caves were the winter home of a relatively small population of hibernating bats, about 2,500 animals from four species. Last year, Canyons representative Laura Hall later tells us, they counted just 12 bats.

We knew going into Laurel Canyons for our two-hour underground tour that we weren’t likely to see any of the flying mammals. For one thing, it was still a few weeks before hibernation season. For another, the guides wouldn’t have taken us into the bats’ hibernacula. But still, knowing what we knew, the caves we explored felt eerily silent and empty.

Other Pennsylvania caves must seem even worse. Greg Turner, a mammologist and WNS researcher with the state’s Bureau of Wildlife Management, shared information on bat declines throughout the state. One mine, he tells us, had more than 30,000 bats in 2007. White-nose syndrome arrived just three years later. By 2013 only 155 bats remained. In cave after cave, that pattern has repeated itself.

And Pennsylvania is not alone. White-nose can now be found in 31 states and 5 Canadian provinces and has affected nine bat species, including the endangered gray bat (Myotis grisescens) and Indiana bat (M. sodalis). Some populations have fallen 99 percent or more, meaning other species could soon become officially endangered.

white nose syndrome map

When the fungus first turned up — probably accidentally carried by humans from Europe, where it has no effect on the continent’s bats, to a cave in Albany, New York — no one expected it to be as bad as it has become. “We all just thought, maybe it will only be in one site and it won’t be a big deal,” Niver says. “Then the next year happened. 2008 was a terrible year. We had mass mortality in Vermont.” Some estimates suggest half a million bats died that winter.

After that the disease just “took off,” she says. “We were hopeful it wasn’t going to be much of anything, but every winter just was devastatingly proving us wrong. It was terrible.”

Biologists around the northeast scrambled to figure out what was happening. “There were just these bats dying and there was nothing we could do,” Niver says. “We didn’t know what was killing them. We would have these weekly phone calls just trying to figure out who found it where and on which species. We went through all the steps of grief.”

Fortunately, there was already a model for figuring out these types of pathogens: the working groups for bee colony collapse disorder. Biologists quickly organized, developed their own working group, identified the fungus and developed protocols to help slow its spread.

Those protocols for human activity, however, can only do so much when all it takes is the beat of a bat’s wings to spread tiny but deadly fungal spores to all of its neighbors. And protocols can’t stop bats from migrating, which has taken the fungus from coast to coast in just over a decade. As that happened, the death toll has climbed. Biologists estimate that at least 5 to 6 million bats — probably more — have died since 2007.

What is the impact these mass bat fatalities? It’s too early to know. “I feel like we’re just in this huge environmental experiment,” Niver tells me. Scientists never had very good information on insect populations, so we don’t know how exactly they’re changing as the bats disappear. She suggests it’s time to start keeping an eye on things like gypsy moth or tent caterpillar outbreaks, which could become a problem without bats to control the insects’ populations. Other pest insects could also be a problem; a 2011 study estimated that bats provide an estimated $22.9 billion a year in economic services by eating insects that could damage crops.

Then there’s the impact on the bats themselves. Some species could become endangered, if they’re not already.

Meanwhile, other bats are actually changing in the face of the disease. Turner tells us that some bats have started to hibernate at colder temperatures where they could be safer from the fungus, while Niver says some species have potentially started to expand their territories into habitats previously inhabited by one of the species hardest hit by the disease, the little brown bat (M. lucifugus).

The bats may also be starting to change physically or behaviorally. Turner shared data, still pending publication, which suggests that some bats that survive the initial infection in one year appear to be packing on additional weight to help them persist through their next hibernations.

Despite these minor adaptations in some populations, the future for bats in this country is precarious. Over the past year the fungus has spread to Texas and Washington state; Niver says biologists in the East are warning their colleagues in the West what to expect. The message isn’t an easy one: “Don’t count on anything being different enough for your bats to survive,” she warns.

Survival of any bats, now, is the key. Turner tells us their best hope is not that the declines will stop, only that they’ll level off. “Stabilization,” he says, “that’s what we’re hoping for.”

laurel cavern
Journalists descend into Laurel Cavern. Photo: John R. Platt

As we come to the close of our underground tour, our guide — a former steelworker named Justin — brings us into a large cavern where there’s room for us to sit or lean against the rock walls. This, he tells us, is our opportunity to experience total darkness. One by one, we switch off our flashlights and headlamps. The room grows darker and darker until all light disappears. Our eyes struggle to adjust, but there’s nothing they can do except send false signals to our brain.

Then Justin tells us to enjoy a moment of silence. The journalists stop talking, and for a few minutes all we can hear is the soft rustle of wind through the caverns around us.

It’s peaceful, but it would have been more comforting to hear the flap of a bat’s wings in the darkness.