Wildlife Wins From Biden’s Bipartisan Infrastructure Act

A bounty of much-needed new federal funds will help reconnect habit for freshwater and terrestrial animals.

Remember that $1 trillion infrastructure bill that passed in 2021? Well, its huge pot of money is starting to make its way across the United States, and salmon, mountain lions and other animals could get some much-needed help.

At first glance, a law devoted to improving roads, bridges, airports and other transit systems may not seem like much of a biodiversity win. After all, our 4 million miles of roads carve up wildlife habitat and endanger animals, and more than a quarter of U.S. climate emissions can be traced to the transportation sector.

But the Bipartisan Infrastructure Investment and Jobs Act, signed by President Biden in November 2021, contains notable nods to climate resilience and making infrastructure a bit greener. Some of the most publicized include cleaning up toxic Superfund sites, building more electric vehicle charging stations, expanding the transmission network for clean energy, and reducing drinking-water contaminants.

Dig a little deeper, though, and you’ll find concrete — pardon the pun — opportunities to address some of the harm to wildlife caused by a century of paving over wild places and obstructing free-flowing rivers.

Among them: a $350 million wildlife-crossing pilot program and $2 billion to improve fish passage via a host of programs in the Interior, Transportation, Agriculture and Commerce departments.

“This is a generational opportunity to use large funding programs to match really intense infrastructure needs with opportunities to improve ecosystems and fish passage,” says Sandra Jacobson, the South Coast regional director at the nonprofit California Trout.

Fish and Flooding

Jacobson will get a hand in doing just that in San Diego County.

California Trout is a partner on a project replacing a roadway bridge and culvert over the Santa Margarita River, which received $3 million from the infrastructure law. The current structure floods whenever there’s heavy rain. It also blocks the migration of endangered Southern California steelhead.

Aerial view of roadway bridge over river with trees on the banks.
Bridge over the Santa Margarita River in San Diego County. Photo: Mike Wier, courtesy of California Trout

The plan to replace it “started as a fish passage project, but it quickly became evident that it was actually a community resiliency project,” says Jacobson. “This crossing over the Santa Margarita River is the number-one flooding hotspot in the county.”

It’s also in the middle of the Santa Margarita Trail Preserve, a wildlife corridor between the Santa Ana Mountains and the Palomar Mountains. “And it’s the last barrier to steelhead passage in the mainstem of this high-priority river,” she says. “So it’s an ideal project to mobilize the community.”

Removing barriers to fish passage in the river was identified as a key goal in a federal recovery plan for Southern California steelhead.

“Eliminating this barrier and completely freeing the river from the ocean to its headwaters has significant implications for [steelhead] recovery,” says Jacobson. “This project is a big one, but it also takes several of these sorts of projects to achieve the goals of recovering a stable population.”

Removing Barriers

At least $1 billion in funding will help remove or replace culverts that impede fish like the one in San Diego County, but there are hundreds of millions for other kinds of fish passage projects, too, including dam removals, fish lifts, and redesigning stream channels.

A stream restoration project on Big Chico Creek in Northern California received $10 million to remove a natural rockfall and obsolete fishway. The work will help endangered Central Valley spring-run Chinook and steelhead reach critical cold-water habitat.

“We’re going to reconstruct the channel to mimic a natural channel that’s passable for fish,” says Damon Goodman, the Mount Shasta-Klamath regional director of California Trout, which is leading the project. That will help the fish reach a relatively undisturbed upstream habitat — and one that’s much colder. “Unfortunately our endangered species can’t get up there and are stuck below in a spot where the temperatures get too high,” which threatens their health.

Aerial view of narrow creek with large boulders.
Fish ladder and rock fall barrier in Big Chico Creek, Calif. Photo: Mike Wier, courtesy of California Trout

Endangered species on the East Coast will get help from the Penobscot Indian Nation, which is continuing its work improving habitat for Atlantic salmon. The Tribe was a partner in a major restoration effort on the Penobscot River that removed two dams and bypassed a third to open 2,000 miles of habitat for imperiled salmon and other fish.

“We’re building on that success, but we still have a long way to go,” says Dan McCaw, fisheries program manager for the Penobscot Indian Nation. Infrastructure funds will help the Tribe remove culvert and dam barriers on the East Branch of the river, one of the largest and most high-quality cold-water tributaries of a critical salmon stream.

“When it comes to Atlantic salmon in the United States, Maine is the last hope,” says McCaw. “Maine is the only place where we have returning fish, and if we can’t do it here, then we can’t do it anywhere.”

Removing smaller river obstructions can make a big difference, says Serena McClain, a senior director at the nonprofit American Rivers.

“Even culverts or road stream crossings can fragment habitat for species like salmon, steelhead, alewife, blueback herring or American shad,” she says. “What you’re seeing first and foremost in all of these projects is the important benefit of reconnecting habitat to help rebuild populations of these fish.”

Dams Come Down

One of the biggest threats to freshwater biodiversity in the United States comes from the 90,000 dams obstructing rivers and streams.

There’s funding from the law that can go to removing some of those dams, including $75 million through the Federal Emergency Management Agency, $10 million via the Forest Service, and hundreds of millions more from in-stream barrier removal and fish-passage programs in the Department of the Interior and National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration.

American Rivers is leading a few of those efforts, including a project to remove five dams in North Carolina’s Cape Fear watershed that received $7 million from NOAA. It will benefit sturgeon, American eel, river herring and shad, says McClain.

And in Oregon, removing a dam on Kellogg Creek, a tributary of the Willamette River near Portland, will give threatened Lower Columbia River coho, chinook and steelhead access to 15 miles of high-quality habitat.

These are dams that might not be removed if not for the new federal funds.

“The money gives these bigger, more complex projects enough funding to get the start that they’ve needed for a really long time,” she says.

For a $70 million project like Kellogg Creek to receive $15 million from one source, instead of trying to cobble together grants of $1 million or fewer, is a “legitimate buy-in” that helps ensure it can find enough funds to be completed, says McClain.

Habitat Connectivity

Aquatic species aren’t the only animals that need habitat connectivity help.

Collisions between vehicles and wildlife kill 1-2 million animals each year, cause 200 human fatalities, and cost $9.7 billion, reports ARC Solutions, which works to build habitat connectivity and safe wildlife crossings.

The infrastructure law could make a small dent in that large problem with the wildlife-crossing pilot program, set to distribute $350 million in grants over five years to state, local and Tribal agencies to build structures like highway underpasses that reconnect habitat while reducing wildlife-vehicle collisions.

The law also includes a provision to update a 2008 report on wildlife-vehicle collisions with more recent data. “If we can’t measure the problem, then we don’t know how important it is to fix it,” says Renee Callahan, executive director of ARC Solutions.

And the 2008 report already showed there was a serious problem. “It found 21 threatened and endangered species for which roads are a potential game changer,” she says. “If you don’t fix this issue, you risk having these animals disappear.”

Callahan says she welcomes the new wildlife-crossing program’s dedicated funds, but much more money is needed.

Her organization has identified 15 other infrastructure programs created or expanded with funding from the law that could incorporate wildlife-friendly provisions into infrastructure upgrades but aren’t required to. So far much of the funding from those projects hasn’t been allocated, so it’s too soon to see whether wildlife infrastructure will get more resources.

But they’ve found two examples that have already received funding.

One is a project in Colorado to redesign eight miles of the I-70 mountain corridor with funding through the Infrastructure for Rebuilding American Program — a program expanded by the infrastructure law. “Wildlife crossings are integrated into this larger improvement of this highway,” says Callahan.

Another is a planning grant for four bridges in Montana funded through the newly created Bridge Investment Program, designed to help address the thousands of structurally deficient bridges in the country.

“As part of the assessment for how to redo those bridges, they’re going to also consider wildlife connectivity,” she says.

Many more projects are still to be announced soon and she hopes it’s not a missed chance to solve multiple problems at once.

“This is an opportunity to make infrastructure more resilient in the face of extreme weather, to take into account the way that animals are moving, and to provide for terrestrial and aquatic connectivity,” says Callahan. “This is the way that we are going to make sure that future generations have wildlife around.”

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Previously in The Revelator:

Road to Nowhere: Highways Pose Existential Threat to Wolverines

 

The First Must-Read Environmental Books of 2023 Have Arrived

From wolves to climate change, these new books will help set the agenda for the year ahead.

This is going to be a good year — dare I say it, a great year — for environmental books. We’re just two months into 2023, and already dozens of fantastic volumes have landed on our review desks. There are books about wildlife, climate change, pollution, environmental justice, activism…you name it. The subjects and authors are as varied as the threats we all face.

So where to start? We’ve picked the best books we’ve read so far this year, pulling from titles published in January and February 2023. This is hardly an exhaustive list — reviewing them all would be a full-time job — but it encompasses the ones we felt would make the most impact on readers and, through them, the world.

The Climate BookThe Climate Book

by Greta Thunberg

Our take: Subtitled “the facts and the solutions,” this book contains dozens of bite-sized yet thought-provoking essays from scientists, activists and other leaders outlying the history and reality of climate change, where we’re still going wrong, and what we need to do to fight it. Thunberg provides several insightful essays throughout the book, which is also packed with more graphs and charts than you can shake a hockey stick at. The result is one of the most authoritative yet accessible books about climate change I’ve ever seen. Even a person like myself, who’s been writing about climate change for decades (sigh), will find something new or noteworthy on every page. I know I’ll be referring to this book quite a bit in the months ahead.

From the publisher: “In The Climate Book, Greta Thunberg has gathered the wisdom of over one hundred experts — geophysicists, oceanographers and meteorologists; engineers, economists and mathematicians; historians, philosophers and Indigenous leaders — to equip us all with the knowledge we need to combat climate disaster. Throughout, illuminating and often shocking grayscale charts, graphs, diagrams, photographs and illustrations underscore their research and their arguments. Alongside them, she shares her own stories of demonstrating and uncovering greenwashing around the world, revealing how much we have been kept in the dark. This is one of our biggest challenges, she shows, but also our greatest source of hope. Once we are given the full picture, how can we not act? And if a schoolchild’s strike could ignite a global protest, what could we do collectively if we tried?”

Black Earth WisdomBlack Earth Wisdom: Soulful Conversations With Black Environmentalists

by Leah Penniman

Our take: Penniman, author of Farming While Black, describes this book as “a tapestry of voices.” Those voices certainly shine through this collection of roundtable interviews with scientists, authors, journalists and other experts. The resulting discussions range from spirituality to soil, and from environmental justice to defending communities. One of the most important themes that arises is the need to listen not just to ourselves but to the Earth. (Speaking of listening, I reviewed this in ebook format, but the pending audio book seems like a fertile avenue for conveying these ideas and conversations.)

From the publisher: “This thought-provoking anthology brings together today’s most respected and influential Black environmentalist voices — leaders who have cultivated the skill of listening to the Earth — to share the lessons they have learned. These varied and distinguished experts include Pulitzer Prize and National Book Award-winning author Alice Walker; the first Queen Mother and official spokesperson for the Gullah/Geechee Nation, Queen Quet; marine biologist, policy expert and founder and president of Ocean Collectiv, Dr. Ayana Elizabeth Johnson; and the executive director of the North Carolina Association of Black Lawyers, Land Loss Prevention Project, Savi Horne. In Black Earth Wisdom, they address the essential connection between nature and our survival and how runaway consumption and corporate insatiability are harming the earth and every facet of American society, engendering racial violence, food apartheid and climate injustice.” (Available Feb. 28)

Heart to HeartHeart to Heart: A Conversation on Love and Hope for Our Precious Planet

by the Dalai Lama and Patrick McDonnell

Our take: A religious leader and a cartoonist team up to produce a beautifully illustrated book that serves as a prayer for compassion for the planet.

If you’re familiar with the Dalai Lama’s work, you may not find much new in the text of this book, which draws from several of his previous writings. But McDonnell, the creator of the Mutts comic strip, ties it all together and takes it all to a new level through his watercolor illustrations of a panda seeking help for a planet in plight. The result is something akin to a graphic novel, wrapping up the poignancy of environmental destruction with the hope that we all can — and must — make a difference.

From the publisher: “At the Dalai Lama’s residence in Dharamsala, India, an unusual visitor has arrived. His Holiness interrupts his morning meditation to greet a troubled Giant Panda who has travelled many miles to see him. Welcoming him as a friend, His Holiness invites the Panda on a walk through a cedar forest. There in the shadow of the Himalayas, surrounded by beauty, they discuss matters great and small…”

Forest JourneyA Forest Journey: The Role of Trees in the Fate of Civilization

by John Perlin

Our take: Third time’s the charm. This latest update to the classic book is ready to stand the test of time. There’s so much good material this time around they had to publish 70 pages of endnotes online. Meanwhile the 500-page physical book is packed with hundreds of gorgeous photos and illustrations that depict the history of trees on Earth and their uncertain future. You’ll savor (or worry) over every detail.

From the publisher: “Originally published in 1986 and updated in 2005, A Forest Journey’s comprehensive coverage of the major role forests have played in human life — told with grace, fluency, imagination, and humor — gained it recognition as a Harvard Classic in Science and World History and as one of Harvard’s “One Hundred Great Books.” This is a foundational conservation story that should not be lost in the archives. This updated and expanded edition emphasizes the importance of forests in the fight against climate chaos and the urgency to protect what remains of the great trees and forests of the world.”

Ecological ClassOn the Emergence of an Ecological Class: A Memo

by Bruno Latour and Nikolaj Schultz, translated by Julie Rose

Our take: This short book contains just 76 paragraphs, but each one packs a punch. Written with style and wit and structured in a way as a business memo — or perhaps more accurately, a manifesto or strategy document — it provides a philosophical, class-based look at the ways an “ecological class” should demand change in what Latour and Schultz call the New Climate Regime.

Of course, even the authors have their doubts. “Never has the idea of an ‘ecological class that’s self-aware and proud’ seemed so remote,” they write in their postscript. But oddly enough, the war in Ukraine gives them hope. They write that the war is being fought on two fronts, one on Ukrainian soil and the other for the future of a carbon-free lifestyle.

From the publisher: “Under what conditions could ecology, instead of being one cluster of movements among others, organize politics around an agenda and a set of beliefs? Can ecology aspire to define the political horizon in the way that liberalism, socialism, conservatism and other political ideologies have done at various times and places? What can ecology learn from history about how new political movements emerge, and how they win the struggle for ideas long before they translate their ideas into parties and elections?”

Fandom ActsFandom Acts of Kindness: A Heroic Guide to Activism, Advocacy and Doing Chaotic Good

by Tanya Cook and Kaela Joseph

Our take: With great cosplay comes great responsibility.

Let’s be clear — this is not specifically an environmental book. But it is a look inside a new type of activism driven by pop culture and pure ideals, and it offers a great way to extend the environmental movement to people from other communities who already have their own organizational structures, history of collaborations, and desire to generate positive action for the world.

In other words, environmental groups, rent a booth at your next local comic-con.

From the publisher: “Fandoms are united as a community because of the power of story. And it’s exactly the magical alchemy forged when mixing story and community that has helped fandoms across the world feed thousands of hungry children, donate countless books, build schools, register voters, disrupt online hate speech and save lives through crafting PPE for COVID-19 frontline workers, natural disaster response and mental health crisis support. Fandom Acts of Kindness not only tells the stories of the good fans have done in the world but serves as a dungeon master’s guide to how to be a hero yourself. Perfect for those who want to inspire others, organize collective action, sustain and nurture your own mental health and creativity, and do it all through a pop culture perspective.”

WolfishWolfish: Wolf, Self, and the Stories We Tell About Fear

by Erica Berry

Our take: I’ll admit I felt a bit apprehensive going into this one. The title seemed to paint wolves as villains and play off the negative public perception that too often drives them to their deaths.

But maybe that worry proves the book’s point. Wolfish is less a profile of wolves than a meditation and memoir — an examination of the nature of fear and the fear of vanishing nature. Through a creative, feminist lens, it uses wolves as the defining narrative and metaphor to provide insight into our relationship with the wild and with ourselves. The result is a work that feels very much of the moment.

From the publisher: “What do stories so long told about wolves tell us about our relationship to fear? How can our society peel back the layers of what scares us? By strategically unspooling the strands of our cultural constructions of predator and prey, and what it means to navigate a world in which we can be both, Erica bridges the gap between human fear and grief through the lens of a wrongfully misunderstood species.”

Conflict of Interest Department:

Biodiversity Litigation edited by Guillaume Futhazar, Sandrine Maljean-Dubois and Jona Razzaque — This textbook “presents the trends in biodiversity litigation, highlighting recent evolution, and measuring the influence of international biodiversity law.” It contains a chapter by one of the legal minds at our parent company, the Center for Biological Diversity.

Honorable Mentions:

Six more Jan./Feb. releases that caught our attention:

Oil Beach: How Toxic Infrastructure Threatens Life in the Ports of Los Angeles and Beyond by Christina Dunbar-Hester

Profit: An Environmental History by Mark Stoll

Koala: A Natural History and an Uncertain Future by Danielle Clode

The Darkness Manifesto: On Light Pollution, Night Ecology and the Ancient Rhythms that Sustain Life by Johan Eklöf

The Great Displacement: Climate Change and the Next American Migration by Jake Bittle

Tenacious Beasts: Wildlife Recoveries That Change How We Think about Animals by Christopher J. Preston

That’s it for this month. Check out the “Revelator Reads” archives for hundreds of other recent environmental books.

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In Ukraine, Saving Wildlife Harmed by War

For Ukrainian activists, rescuing the dogs of war — not to mention the cats, swans, bats, bears and other wildlife — often means putting their own lives on the line.

Saving Ukraine’s injured and displaced animals during wartime often means seeing the worst elements of Russian cruelty.

“When a territory is liberated, our team goes there and we speak with the people who survived the occupation,” says Olga Chevhanyuk, chief operating officer of UAnimals, Ukraine’s largest animal-rights organization. “And each time we hear that when the Russians entered the town, they started shooting animals for fun, starting with dogs just walking the streets and ending with huge farms and shelters. Sometimes it’s probably a matter of manipulation, getting people scared. But mostly it’s no reason at all, just because they can.”

Originally founded to oppose inhumane conditions in circuses, the nonprofit UAnimals has shifted its mission to rescuing and caring for domestic animals and wildlife devastated by Russian aggression.

Working with local volunteers and shelters, they’ve helped tens of thousands of animals since the war began a year ago, including dogs and cats, horses, deer, swans, birds of prey and bats — even large predators like bears. In January alone they rescued more than 9,600 animals, provided food and medicine to thousands more, rebuilt shelters, and helped fund operations throughout the country.

 

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They’ve also found themselves purchasing supplies not traditionally used in animal rescues.

“Before the war, you never think of buying helmets for your team,” Chevhanyuk says.

And then there’s the human toll: The nonprofit has contracted with psychologists to provide on-demand assistance to its team in the field. “So now they can have a session with the psychologist when they’re overwhelmed,” she says.

But this is all about saving more than individual animal lives and human minds. It’s about saving the soul of a country.

A Crime Against Nature

UAnimals has started calling the Russian war an ecocide — the deliberate destruction of the natural environment.

“Nowadays 20% of Ukraine’s nature conservation areas are affected by war,” Chevhanyuk says. “Russians occupy eight national reserves and 12 national parks, and some of the national parks are land-mined. Holy Mountains National Park is 80% destroyed. Some of them are destroyed 100%, meaning there’s no plants, no animals, no buildings which people used to heal animals. The land is littered with remains of destroyed objects, like tons of oil and burned products.”

Landmines are among the worst problems. They kill humans and animals indiscriminately, start fires, and will take years to mitigate. About 62,000 square miles of Ukraine may be contaminated with landmines. “This is greater than the size of Illinois,” according to information provided by a U.S. State Department official. “The United States is investing $91.5 million over the coming year to help the government of Ukraine address the urgent humanitarian challenges posed by explosive remnants of war created by Russia’s invasion.”

Cleaning up the pollution will require even more funding and effort. The war has caused at least $37 billion in environmental damage, a Ukrainian NGO said in November.

 

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UAnimals predicts it could take more than a decade to repair the damage, but Ukraine’s wildlife doesn’t have that much time. “More than 80 species of animals in our country are on the verge of extinction and may completely cease to exist due to Russian aggression,” Chevhanyuk says. “Some of them are the steppe eagle, black stork, brown bear, Eurasian lynx, barn owl and eared hedgehog.”

While many of these species also exist in other countries, Chevhanyuk says wildlife has been an important element of Ukrainian folksongs, art and symbology — the very fabric of its culture — for centuries. “Being humane and treating animals as something really important and equal — this is one of the things which differs us a lot from Russians. And that’s, I believe, a part of our future victory.”

Moving Forward

UAnimals continues to ramp up its fundraising and recovery efforts while expanding its network of shelters outside the country — a necessary step, as Ukrainian shelters and reserves are rapidly filling to capacity with animals too wounded ever to be released back into the wild.

“We have big shelters for bears, for example,” Chevhanyuk says, “but they are already full. I’m afraid that if something happens, we’ll need to bring these animals abroad. So we are very grateful to all our partners in different countries, because there’s a big need right now.”

The organization is also tapping back into its activist roots to bring international attention to conditions in Ukraine. In February they organized Stop Ecocide Ukraine rallies in four U.S. cities — Atlanta, Austin, New York and San Antonio — that each attracted hundreds of people.

 

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In a way this is a return to form. “We used to create huge animal-rights marches in 30 Ukrainian cities every September,” Chevhanyuk says. “But since war started, we are more focused on the emergency.”

And the international community has started to take notice. Last month the Parliamentary Assembly of the Council of Europe passed a resolution to “build and consolidate a legal framework for the enhanced protection of the environment in armed conflicts” — steps that support establishing ecocide as a new international crime.

“From a legal perspective, this is really encouraging,” says Jojo Mehta, cofounder and executive director of Stop Ecocide International, “because if you put severe harm to the living world on the same level as severe harm to people, if you say ecocide is as bad, wrong and dangerous as genocide, you’re creating a mental rebalance.”

It could still take years for ecocide to become international law. But meanwhile the destruction of Ukraine continues, as do recovery efforts.

“If our team knows there is an animal to rescue,” Chevhanyuk says, “they will go in.”

Previously in The Revelator:

20 Endangered Species at Risk in Ukraine

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Restoring the Ciénaga Grande de Santa Marta: Reversing a Century of Colombian Tragedy

Can science and tradition finally help heal the region’s peoples and bring balance to its biodiversity-rich waters and mangrove forests?

When I visited the floating palafito fishing village of Nueva Venecia in early 2021, I found myself staring out across the calm, reflective expanse of the coastal lagoon complex known as the Ciénaga Grande de Santa Marta. Looking back at that moment, I understand why Ernesto Mancera has spent the past 35 years studying the region’s mangroves and other species: Everywhere I looked, I saw life.

More than 130 fish species call the Ciénaga Grande home, along with 200 bird species, manatees and 18 other mammals, 26 reptiles, three mangrove species and hundreds of other types of plants and trees.

Mancera, a marine biologist from the National University of Colombia, later told me, “The Ciénaga Grande de Santa Marta is the most productive estuarine ecosystem in the world.”

As with any estuary, it’s the properties of the brackish water that make the difference. The Ciénaga Grande serves as a node of interconnection in a complex hydrological network, linking Colombia’s principal waterway, the world’s highest coastal mountain range, and the Caribbean Sea. For millennia this system has existed in a dynamic balance that allowed life to flourish.

But despite its internationally recognized beauty and value, a sense of awe and sadness intertwine here. No place better represents Colombia’s rich biocultural diversity and tragic history.

The Ciénaga Grande has suffered decades of degradation. Human alteration of its dynamic hydrology and the obstruction of essential points of connection have led its mangroves and aquatic species to suffer devastating mass die-offs.

At the same time, the traditional people who have long lived in harmony with the ecoregion have experienced brutality, exploitation, and the denigration of their traditional knowledge.

But today there’s hope. Experts and community leaders say rigorous and coordinated effort could lead to the recovery of this complex, resilient place.

A Vital Ecosystem

The Ciénaga Grande delta-lagoon complex encompasses around 20 interconnected ciénagas (lagoons) and hundreds of square miles of mangroves.

To the east is the towering Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta mountain range, which itself is a biodiversity hotspot and a UNESCO biosphere reserve. Three rivers rise in the highlands of the Sierra — the Sevilla, Fundacion and Aracataca. These rivers directly feed the Ciénaga Grande with freshwater and rich sediments.

The mountains also contain montane forests, paramos and glaciers, all located within the territories of Indigenous peoples.

Running along the west is the Magdalena River, Colombia’s longest and most important waterway. The Ciénaga Grande is part of the Magdalena Delta system, which drains into the Caribbean Sea to the north, and connects to the river through natural channels that bring sustained flows of freshwater and sediment.

The freshwater from the channels and the Sierra’s rivers is critical to the health and balance of the Ciénaga Grande, whose semi-arid hydroclimate experiences much more evaporation on average than precipitation. Climate change is expected to exacerbate this freshwater deficit.

“The interconnection between these various ecosystems, the hydroclimate, and the interchange of brackish and fresh waters created unique conditions and provided the energy for the Ciénaga’s remarkable biodiversity and productivity,” Mancera said.

“The Real Magic of the Ciénaga” – oil on canvas – © Vannessa Circe. Used with permission.

This hydrological connectivity and the Ciénaga Grande itself also have irreplaceable biocultural value for the Sierra peoples.

“The life, vital feminine energy and balance generated in the Ciénaga supports the environmental, social and spiritual equilibrium of the entire Sierra,” according to my colleague Teyrungümü Torres Zalabata, an Arhuaco physicist and leader of the Agua Maestra collective.

That connection has suffered for nearly 100 years.

A Tragic Social and Ecological History

The decades-long deterioration of the Ciénaga Grande began as an extension of the bananero epoch of the 1920s, when multinational corporations like the United Fruit Company, in collaboration with local authorities, incentivized and exploited large banana plantations. This region along the western Sierra foothills near the Ciénaga Grande became known as the “banana zone,” and its complex history inspired the magical realism of the fictional town of Macondo in Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s One Hundred Years of Solitude.

But the reality was far from magical. Powerful plantation-owners diverted and contaminated water from the rivers that feed the Ciénaga Grande and blocked the Sierra’s Indigenous peoples from making their traditional pilgrimages.

“In the late 1950s a road connected the cities of Ciénaga and Barranquilla to facilitate the export of bananas to the United States,” said Mancera. “This cut off the natural communication between the Ciénaga and the Caribbean Sea.” Towns sprang up along the road, bringing increased deforestation and human waste.

Thus began the wide-scale alteration of the hydrological and socioecological dynamics of the Ciénaga Grande.

In the 1970s the government built another ill-conceived road parallel to the Magdalena River along the western banks of the Ciénaga Grande. “This was the critical point,” said Mancera. “This road cut off the vital connection between the Magdalena River and the Ciénaga.”

With less freshwater flowing into the system, the water and soils of the Ciénaga Grande became hypersalinated. Water levels also lowered, exacerbated by an El Niño. This led to the first mass mangrove and fish die-offs.

“Mangroves provide many important ecosystem services,” said Mancera. “They ensure water quality, prevent coastal erosion, provide refuge for many species, and capture carbon. Their degradation in the Ciénaga led to cascading negative impacts for the entire ecosystem.”

Over the decades these die-offs increased in severity and frequency, with approximately 55-60% of the mangrove forests now lost. Upwards of 70% of the fish were lost as well.

Dead mangroves along the Ciénaga-Barranquilla road. This road cut off the natural connectivity between the Caribbean Sea and the Ciénaga Grande. Photo by D.H. Rasolt

This ecological disaster caused enormous suffering for the peaceful palafito fishermen and their families, a situation exacerbated by Colombia’s prolonged civil war and notorious history of drug trafficking. In the most pronounced example of the horror inflicted on the region, paramilitaries perpetrated a brutal massacre in 2000 within and around the floating villages of Nueva Venecia and Buenavista. The assault killed at least 39 locals and displaced hundreds.

“We lived in fear for a long time, and many never returned,” said fishermen and community leader Diego Martinez from his stilted home in Nueva Venecia. (Editor’s note: Martinez’s name has been changed to conceal his identity and protect him from retaliation.)

The Palafitos

For more than 200 years, traditional amphibious palafito communities have lived within the Ciénaga Grande in floating villages. Artisanal fishing with traditional hand-woven nets called atarrayas has been the foundation of their idyllic life and livelihood.

“We know the Ciénaga, its many species that are still here and those that are gone, and the many changes it has gone through, better than anyone because we live it, every day, every minute, and we should be listened to,” Martinez tells me, his voice filled with indignation.

Policymakers and researchers, both national and international, have drastically overlooked this traditional ecological knowledge of the palafitos in their many failed plans for the Ciénaga Grande.

For example, the opportunity to build capacity within the communities for monitoring water quality and fisheries has been largely neglected. When I visited the region in 2020 and 2021 as part of a project investigating cumulative impacts to the Lower Magdalena River wetlands and the potential for establishing water monitoring stations and decentralized clean energy technologies, I learned that nearly all previous projects neglected both the palafitos’ multi-decadal, firsthand knowledge of changes to the Ciénaga Grande, as well as their ability to participate in data collection for long-term research projects.

A young palafito fisherman arrives with his catch in the amphibious community of Nueva Venecia. Photo by D.H. Rasolt.

It is not only the palafitos’ knowledge and capacity to participate in protecting the Ciénaga Grande that is ignored. Their constitutionally guaranteed rights to life and livelihood are frequently neglected by designated government entities.

“When we call on the regional authorities to maintain the water flow, which they have promised to do and which is essential to the fisheries and our access to food and drinkable water, we are almost always ignored,” said Martinez.

The regional authority in question, CORPAMAG, has been consistently unaccountable, said environmental attorney David Vargas from the Colombian Ombudsman office, who worked for years in the Ciénaga Grande ecoregion.

“We formed popular actions and petitioned CORPAMAG in 2018 on numerous rights violations of local communities, from water concessions and illegal dike constructions of large landholders along the rivers of the Sierra that feed the Ciénaga, to water quality and waste-management issues within the Ciénaga that impact the health and livelihoods for palafito communities. These petitions were all ignored.”

Protective Status and Past Interventions

The Ciénaga Grande, while largely degraded and ignored, is not lacking in formal protective status — although they exist in part in name only.

At the national level, there are the Cienega Grande de Santa Marta Flora and Fauna Sanctuary and the Isla de Salamanca Park Way National Park.

At the international level, the Ciénaga Grande has been declared a Ramsar protected wetland, a UNESCO biosphere reserve and an AICA bird conservation area — all designations that in theory require the Colombian government to protect it.

Countless environmental protection laws exist in Colombia, including those covering wetlands and mangroves, but many of the best ideas and policies remain only on paper.

“We have the tools, the knowledge and the data, but nobody listens or pays attention to the science,” said Mancera. “It has been many years of inefficiencies, unnecessarily repeated studies and failed policies.”

There was a time, during the 1990s, where ambitious integrated research and planning for restoring the Ciénaga Grande was put into action. The framework was known as Procienaga.

“Much was learned over this period regarding the fisheries, water quality and mangrove forests,” said Mancera. Robust data — since organized into a publicly available database — demonstrated the importance of river-Ciénaga connectivity for maintaining hydrological balance and healthy salinity levels in the water and soils. Scientists also identified the eutrophication-inducing impacts of agrochemicals like phosphorus coming from the banana zone of the Sierra, which was beginning to host water and chemical-intensive oil palm plantations.

Fishermen in the Ciénaga Grande near the one remaining Ciénaga-Ocean connection, with the Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta in the background. Photo by D.H. Rasolt.

Starting in 1996 five channels connecting to the Magdalena River were dredged, allowing freshwater to flow back into the Ciénaga Grande. The relatively sudden rush of freshwater — aided by a La Niña event in 1998 — shocked certain important components of the complex interdependent hydrology and ecology, such as eutrophication-controlling oysters. But at the same time, many positive signs were seen for mangrove recovery. The hypersaline soils returned to tolerable levels in certain areas.

Since the Procienaga project ended in 1999, Colombia’s Institute of Marine Investigations, INVEMAR, has continued monitoring the mangroves, water quality and fisheries, while making recommendations to authorities like CORPAMAG. But accountability and action have been few and far between. Channels frequently become blocked by sediment, while agrochemicals and diminished water flow from the Sierra keep killing fish.

New Initiatives and Governmental Change

After a damning report in 2017, the Ciénaga Grande was officially placed on the Ramsar Montreux List of wetlands at extreme risk, which brought some renewed interest and investment into the ecoregion. One example is the new “Sustainable Landscapes” project through the UN’s FAO, in collaboration with INVEMAR and other entities.

“These projects hold promise for better coordinating the different actors and including the communities in the process,” said Mario Rueda, research coordinator and fisheries scientist at INVEMAR.

While the impact of this renewed internationally backed interest remains to be seen, there has been a major governmental change within Colombia. New president Gustavo Petro — who has proclaimed support for the environment, traditional peoples and peace — may bode well for Colombia’s diverse ecosystems, including the Ciénaga Grande.

Rivers that rise in the highland territories of Indigenous Peoples of the Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta feed the Ciénaga Grande with freshwater and rich sediments. Photo by V. Circe.

As part of the new administration, marine biologist Sandra Vilardy, a longtime proponent of the socioecological importance of the Ciénaga Grande, has been named the Viceminister of the Environmental Ministry. Vilardy recently made commitments to restoring Colombia’s wetlands during Ramsar COP14.

Petro has extended his biocultural priorities internationally by appointing Leanor Zalabata, a strong, principled female Arhuaco leader from the Sierra with a holistic worldview, as the new Colombian ambassador to the United Nations.

Integrated Solutions for Recovery

It’s a testament to the resilience of the Ciénaga Grande that this complex ecosystem remains productive at all and still has restoration potential after decades of interconnected threats.

But resilience only goes so far, and the ecosystem can still reach a critical point of no return. If the Ciénaga Grande is going to recover, it needs long-term integrated research and planning, with local community participation and even guardianship, which has a record of success in other local and Indigenous-led areas.

Most notably the region needs rigorous mangrove restoration studies to demonstrate how much soil salinity each species can resist and what outcomes are possible in terms of carbon capture and fishery recovery.

“Just planting seeds without this firm knowledge for a dynamic estuarine ecosystem, or any other forest ecosystem, has been shown not to work,” said Mancera. “Many projects in the Ciénaga have failed because they ignore basic science and integrated planning.”

This research would need to run in parallel with plans for periodically dredging the channels, based on monitoring and alerts from the palafitos, to maintain a healthy dynamic hydrological equilibrium for the Ciénaga Grande.

Ideally integrated long-term plans would also encompass projected climatic changes for the ecoregion, cumulative impacts from “development” along the Magdalena River Basin, and attention to the basin-scale integrity of the Sierra rivers that feed the Ciénaga.

“These collaborations and commitments would give time for the recovery of mangrove species and fisheries and for the Ciénaga overall,” said Mancera.

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Klamath Countdown: Researchers Hustle Before Largest Dam-Removal Project Begins 

To anticipate the impacts of a historic river restoration, we need to understand how salmon, bats, insects, algae and other parts of the ecosystem are behaving today.

Next year will be the big year. By the end of 2024 the Lower Klamath River will run free for the first time in a century, enabling fish like salmon and steelhead to reclaim 400 miles of river habitat in California and Oregon.

The removal of four dams on the river — the largest dam-removal and river-restoration project to date — got the official go-ahead late last year after two decades of work from the region’s Tribes and other advocates.

But before next year’s much-anticipated demolitions begin, a lot remains to be done.

The smallest of the four dams, Copco 2, will come down in 2023, and crews will improve roads and bridges, move a municipal water line, and build a new fish hatchery.

Map of Klamath Basin and dam removal project
PHOTO: The Klamath River watershed and the four dams slated for removal. (Map by Klamath River Renewal Corporation)

Proponents expect dam removal to help resuscitate a beleaguered river where dams have blocked migratory fish and warm reservoir waters have spurred toxic algae growth and fed deadly fish parasites. But evaluating the ecosystem after dam removal — and understanding how to manage a changing river — requires a firm understanding of how all the river’s components function today.

To accomplish that, researchers have spent years gathering information on everything from salmon to algae to bats. And now, as they enter the critical final year, they’re hustling to collect as much data as they can before the dams finally come down.

“It’s an exciting time for the river because dam removal has been a long time coming,” says Laurel Genzoli, a researcher from the University of Montana who has been studying algae and water quality on the Klamath. “But it’s also a stressful time, because this is the last summer to collect data with the dams in place, and we have to make sure we have everything we think we might need.”

Long-Term Data

The uphill political battle to remove the dams began two decades ago. But the effort only started gaining widespread support in the past few years. Thankfully researchers have been studying the river for a longer time, amassing comprehensive data that could form the baselines for future comparisons.

Many of these researchers are affiliated with universities, or state and federal agencies, and some are from the region’s Tribes. Upstream are the Klamath Tribes in Oregon. And along the lower Klamath River in California are the Yurok, Karuk, Hoopa Valley, Quartz Valley Indian Community and the Resighini Rancheria.

“We’ve been monitoring fish populations for decades — how many fish are spawning, how many are being captured, how many juvenile fish are out-migrating,” says Barry McCovey Jr., a fisheries biologist from the Yurok Tribe. “As far as salmon populations go, we’ve been tracking that closely for a long time.”

Recovering salmon populations for Tribes’ cultural and subsistence needs, and for the health of the ecosystem, is a key goal for river restoration.

Tribes have also been involved in more than a decade of research in partnership with state agencies, the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, and researchers from the Oregon State University to track the fish disease Ceratanova shasta, a parasite that’s decimated salmon populations.

That work began independent of dam removal, but it’s become increasingly important because researchers expect a free-flowing river will help reduce the deadly parasite.

The same is true for water quality, which Tribes have tracked for years.

“That work didn’t begin because of dam removal, but the baseline data will be helpful afterwards,” says Genzoli, who works with Tribes from the lower Klamath River to gather data on water quality.

She’s also studying the growth of algae and other aquatic plants. Driven in part by a large amount of upstream nutrients, the river produces a lot of algae. Too much can clog fishing nets, and some can be toxic, endangering wildlife and human health.

Clumps of algae floating on the river surface.
Algae on the Klamath River. Photo: Tara Lohan

Robert Lusardi, a research scientist at the University of California, Davis and a fish scientist for the nonprofit California Trout, is working with the Yurok Tribe and others to study the aquatic invertebrates which feed on those plants, as well as water temperature and chemistry. “Those are really good indicators of change in the system,” says Lusardi.

That baseline data will be important. “When the dams come down, we’ll start doing this same work in the river that’s currently under the reservoirs and it will help us evaluate how the river and tributaries are recovering,” says McCovey.

Moving up the food chain, another group of researchers is studying an animal that often feeds on aquatic insects — bats.

Barbara Clucas, an associate professor in the Department of Wildlife at Cal Poly Humboldt, works with her graduate student Ryan Matilton and other researchers to collect baseline data on the species of bats in the region and their activity levels.

As the diversity or abundance of invertebrates change after dam removal, so might their predators.

“I would imagine that dam removal would change bats’ prey base,” says Clucas. “That could impact when and where we see them. It’s possible that looking at how their diversity, abundance or activity levels change could give an indication of the health of the system overall.”

Dam-Removal Research

While some long-term monitoring will be useful for post-dam study, other efforts have been initiated specifically for dam removal.

One of those is extensive research and mapping by the U.S. Geological Survey of how sediment will move, and what effect that could have on streamside vegetation and the downstream estuary.

Other work has targeted fish — a main conservation priority.

Lusardi has been studying where salmon go in the basin, including the mainstem of the Klamath and its tributaries, by examining fish ear bones — or otoliths. The researchers began by measuring how much of the element strontium was present in the water in different parts of the basin. Most tributaries have very distinct strontium signatures.

“When juvenile salmon rear in the basin, depending on where they are, they’re picking up these strontium signatures in their ear bones,” he explains. “When they come back as adults and they spawn and die, we pull the carcasses out of the river, remove their otoliths, and send them to the lab to be analyzed.” Based on the strontium values, they can learn where the juveniles spent their time.

Working with the Fish and Wildlife Service and the Yurok Tribe, they’ve spent two years collecting otoliths.

“This will provide a baseline of understanding how fish use the basin below the dams now,” he says. After the dams come out, they’ll be able to track returning fish to understand how they’re moving back into the longer reach of the river and tributaries they couldn’t reach before.

Lusardi is also involved in another project with the Oregon Department of Fish and Wildlife, the Klamath Tribes, the National Marine Fishery Service, the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, and the California Department of Fish and Wildlife to better understand how spring-run Chinook will use the basin.

Once numerous throughout the watershed, these native fish are now limited to only one tributary below the dams. Last year the researchers released 1,500 acoustically tagged juveniles above the dams by Upper Klamath Lake and have followed how and when they’re out-migrating. They’re set to do another release this spring.

Photo of earthen dam with reservoir in background.
The earth-filled hydroelectric Iron Gate Dam, powerhouse and spillway on the lower Klamtha River near Hornbrook, Calif. in 1962. Photo: D.L. Christensen / California Department of Water Resources

“We’ve got a really good idea of when they were leaving the tributaries, when they’re moving into Upper Klamath Lake, and how quickly they’re moving through the lake,” he says. “It’s giving us a really good idea of how spring-run Chinook might use the basin [after dam removal] and should be really useful for adaptively managing them in the future.”

Science, People and Decisions

Another area of study enabled by funding from Oregon Sea Grant pairs university researchers from Oregon State University with University of Montana’s Genzoli and the Yurok Tribe to look at how dam removal will affect water quality, the aquatic food web, and water use by the diverse groups that live in the basin.

“We’re partnering with the Yurok Tribe to expand our knowledge about the river and about how decisions can be more equitable,” says project leader Desiree Tullos, a professor of river engineering at Oregon State University.

There are three parts to the project. The first is understanding the connections between water quality and the food web, which can create good or bad habitat for fish, aquatic plants and toxic algae.

Second is the people part. They’re working with stakeholders in the basin, including Tribal members, landowners, ranchers, irrigators and environmental advocates to inform decision making about managing water quality with an eye toward equity.

That scientific and social research will then inform the third part of the project — decision modeling.

“We’re going to bring all those data on the people and the ecosystem together and run a bunch of computer simulations,” she says. That might include looking at how recreation or opportunities for Tribes could change if water quality is managed in a different way.

Models can tell them “if we restore 1,000 acres of wetland in the upper basin, would that get us to a place where there’s no longer toxic algal blooms, or do we need 10,000 acres of wetland?” she says. “And then how does that change if there’s more droughts or more wildfires in the future? Or how does it change if we use a decision process that the Tribe follows, or a local NGO, or the Bureau of Reclamation?”

Funding Issues

All of this research is just a sampling of what’s being undertaken on the river. And while much of it is done in collaboration, there’s no overarching entity — or fund — responsible for overseeing pre-dam removal study.

Last year an op-ed from two well-known experts, fish scientist Peter Moyle and geomorphologist Jeffrey Mount, lamented as much.

“Although more than $450 million has been allocated for the dam removal, to our knowledge, little has been allocated to fund the science needed to evaluate it,” they wrote. “This is a mistake.”

Despite that, researchers have found money from disparate sources — government agencies, universities, nonprofits, private foundations. And they’ve established their own working groups and conferences to share information and drive further collaboration.

“People are sticking with it and dedicated to continuing to do what we can to try to collect data and understand how these changes are affecting the river,” says Genzoli. But she admits that some bigger picture connections could be missed between areas of specialty.

Making sure the science is funded, “is the most important thing,” says Lusardi. “Not just to document what’s happening, but to adaptably manage the river [after dam removal] too.”

Tribal Leadership

While researchers may lack a central — and robust — monetary fund, they do have another valuable resource that’s helped deepen their understanding of the river: Tribes.

Three women hold sign saying "bring the salmon home, remove the Klamath Dams."
Klamath Basin Tribes and allies rally in 2006 for dam removal. Photo: Patrick McCully, (CC BY 2.0)

“Tribal members were essential in driving the politics of dam removal forward, but they have also been maintaining long-term water quality, fisheries and wildlife records of this river in a way we don’t see on most rivers,” says Genzoli.

And it’s not just the western scientific data Tribes have collected, but their traditional knowledge of the ecosystem.

“Tribes have been on the landscape since time immemorial,” says Tullos. “They can tell us things about what a wet versus a dry year is that don’t rely on discharge measurements, but on their observations of where the river was or how bad the algae was in that year. We can get these really full data sets by piling on what we, western scientists measure, with what Indigenous folks understand about the system. By bringing together these multiple ways of knowing, that gives us a much richer understanding.”

And that can help drive an ambitious goal.

“A lot of people would say that this is just a huge fish-restoration project and it’s going to really be great for salmon,” says McCovey. “But for me, it’s so much more than that.”

It’s in their culture as Yurok people to restore balance to the world and ecosystem, he says. To be “people who fix the world.”

“The act of removing those dams and restoring that energy flow from the upper basin to the lower basin is an act of our cultural identity,” he says. “From a Tribal perspective, we are helping to restore that balance, and in a small way, we’re helping to fix the world.”

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Previously in The Revelator:

Drones, Algae and Fish Ears: What We’re Learning Before the World’s Largest Dam-removal Project — and What We Could Miss

The Climate Movement Must Reimagine Its Relationship With Art

Art raises awareness, but environmental organizations too often fail to engage with artists or their own creativity.

In the last year a series of open calls, panels, film festivals and magazine articles have signaled a rising tide of awareness about the vital connection between climate action and art. As a climate artivist — an artist combining creative practice and climate advocacy — these fill me with both hope and frustration.

I’m filled with hope because climate change is a crisis of imagination that needs artists to reclaim the creativity beaten out of us by the same extractive systems that are making our planet and people sick. A crisis is a turning point in a disease; here it’s the turning point we need for mass climate action.

Art can help us to dream the world we want, to remember our Earth roots, to grieve our losses, to celebrate life amidst it all, to resist greenwashed perceptions of climate apathy, to heal our interconnected web of life, and to create just climate futures.

Artists have long helped inspire and mobilize individual and collective action. From the Civil Rights Era to the AIDS crisis to the Black Lives Matter Movement to the recent Covid-19 pandemic, art has helped channel feelings, spread the message, and galvanize action. Today the climate movement needs artists more than ever before.

Despite the scientific consensus on the need to phase out fossil fuels to avoid the most catastrophic consequences of climate change, the latest federal data show an increasing number of oil and gas drilling permits in the United States. In the face of this mammoth bipartisan failure, we need to integrate art with fossil resistance.

Art raises awareness, sometimes through courting controversy. For example, in 2022, climate activists from organizations like Just Stop Oil and Extinction Rebellion desecrated artworks in galleries around the world. The protests were their own kind of synchronized performance art. Whether artists and the art world like it or not, such sensational protests catch our short attention spans: Our planet is burning. Our leaders keep digging us ever deeper into the climate hole.

But these actions are no replacement for the patient work of participatory artivism that mobilizes communities, as in the case of the anti-coal movement in California. A 2021 qualitative study investigated artivism’s role in resisting the construction of a coal-export terminal in California. It found that art had played a decisive role in growing the campaign’s demographic reach and influencing key decision-makers. By engaging poets, musicians, dancers and visual artists in ways that spoke to diverse aesthetics and community spaces, and in doing so from the beginning of the campaign, the organizers effectively engaged women and youth of color.

Art is more than a means of expressing resistance. It is essential for breaking our flight or freeze response to climate angst and for stepping into our own agency to create solutions for ourselves and those disproportionately affected by climate disruptions.

A study in an American Psychological Association Journal evaluated the psychological effects of climate art on spectators. It found that while the use of dystopian elements can catch initial attention, it’s art that offers solutions, and artworks that emphasize the beauty and interconnectedness of nature, that have the most emotional and cognitive impact on viewers to encourage climate action.

To be sure, art alone will not solve the climate crisis. We need to break out of our bubbles. We need to expand our imagination to weave interdisciplinary artistic collaborations with frontline activists, climate scientists, behavior change researchers, policy advocates and lawmakers.

Seeing my climate and art worlds coming together gives me hope. Yet it’s frustrating when — as happened last year — climate activists convene a lengthy panel on the role of artists without having a single artist participate in the discussion. (And no, putting an evocative art by an artist of color on your invitation is not enough.)

It’s frustrating when the leader of a big environmental advocacy organization opines on the role of artists for making people care about climate change without naming concrete steps his own organization is taking to systemically collaborate with artists.

It’s frustrating to see call after call for donations of art for major climate causes without pausing to consider if perhaps artists have worldly concerns like rent, insurance, or a broken kitchen faucet.

If you’re part of the climate movement, stop treating art as an afterthought relegated to your communications departments and artists as the romanticized subjects of soliloquies. Inspiring a creative climate solutions renaissance begins with the art of change within.

Here are a few places to start as you reimagine ways to foster the climate movement’s relationships of solidarity and mutuality with artists:

Connect with diverse artists: Get to know artists from varied backgrounds and practices in your communities. Invite them to your next climate gathering in ways that honor creative labor. Explore artistic engagement in your shared context. Plant the seeds of a climate art salon, an open mic or residency program to foster cross-pollination of diverse people dreaming, singing, dancing, crying and laughing their way toward climate-just futures together.

Learn about imaginative climate art collectives: Study how Design Science Studio’s global creators (including me) are making art for a regenerative future; The Climate Museum’s first pop-up in Manhattan is blending art, social science and climate action; Gulf Coast Murals is bringing together artists, activists, communities and allies in the Gulf Coast to remember and envision; Art and Climate Initiative is using theater for climate solutions; The Climate Comedy Cohort is engaging comedians in the hottest climate science; and 5millionstrong is building artists’ mass actions to shape our shared future.

Reclaim your creativity: As you foster climate art “out” in the world, be creative in your own life: doodle, play, write a poem, hum your favorite song, move out of your very serious chair. In a burning world, so many of us are burned out and separated from our creative vitality. Art offers possibilities of building bridges that embody our intertwined private, collective and planetary healing.

The opinions expressed above are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect those of The Revelator, the Center for Biological Diversity or their employees.

Previously in The Revelator:

The Extinction Crisis in Watercolor and Oils: Using Art to Save Plants

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Weather Whiplash: How Climate Change Killed Thousands of Migratory Birds

Can we help species adapt to the evolving threat of compound climate extremes?

When dead birds fall from the sky, you know something is wrong. But finding out exactly what killed them isn’t as easy.

Scientists had plenty of theories when migratory sparrows, flycatchers, blackbirds, swallows, warblers and other birds in the southwestern United States turned up dead or dying in August and September of 2020. Some suggested it could have been smoke from wildfires. Others said it could have been a cold snap. Some experts thought it was lack of food, as evidenced by the birds’ emaciated, dehydrated bodies.

No matter what the cause, the effect was devastating on the people who found the bodies. “I collected over a dozen in just a two-mile stretch in front of my house,” biologist Martha Desmond told The Guardian that September. “To see this many individuals and species dying is a national tragedy.”

Now we may know why those thousands of birds died. According to a paper published in the journal Sustainable Horizons, the deaths were caused by “compound climate extremes” — multiple factors and events that pounded the birds over and over again until they expired.

It started in August 2020, when smoke and heat from Western wildfires forced migratory birds to flee their traditional feeding grounds before they could bulk up for the winter. They moved inland at first, landing in areas where food and water were naturally scarce. That would have been okay under normal, well-fed conditions, but then came the second punch. A four-day cold snap and snowstorm struck the northern Rockies and pushed the already weakened birds to move yet again. Not yet recovered from their first emergency journey, they turned their beaks southward, where their energy stores finally gave out.

The researchers call this “weather whiplash” — or more scientifically, an “ecological cascade” — and warn that future double or triple whammies could pose a threat to migratory species here in the United States and around the world. It could even cause extinctions, they write.

But they also provide a roadmap that could help lessen the impact. First, the authors call on the scientific community to further study the threats of environmental stress on bird health, so we better understand when we need to intervene. They also express the need for sustainable land strategies that could provide alternatives to existing trees, so birds have more places to nest, roost and feed. Finally, they recommend preparing sanctuaries to help injured animals recover in these potentially affected ecosystems and implementing reintroductions to boost populations of species suffering from all these compound effects.

In a world where climate extremes get more dangerous every year, and where people also suffer from weather whiplash, adaptations like this will become increasingly necessary — unless we want to see more flocks falling from the sky.

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Previously in The Revelator:

Frogs vs. Climate Change: How Long Can They Stand the Heat?

Newest Flock of Wild California Condors Faces an Old Threat: Lead Poisoning

As one of the world’s most endangered birds returns to its ancestral skies, partners work to eliminate a persistent threat on the ground.

Last May biologists from the Yurok Tribe and Redwood National and State Parks released four captive-bred California condors into the wild. They were the first condors to soar above the towering coast redwood trees in Northern California in more than a century. The reintroduction effort had been years in the making.

A second cohort of four condors joined the small flock in autumn. A bird known as A6, whose Yurok name is Me-new-kwek’, was the last to leave the release pen, Nov. 16. He immediately took flight.

“A6 went down to the bottom of the hill canyon and got a little bit stuck,” says Tiana Williams-Claussen, wildlife department director for the Yurok Tribe.

Me-new-kwek’, which means “I’m bashful,” spent 19 days exploring his new world at the bottom of the canyon. Some of the other young condors visited A6 and even roosted near him at night during his odyssey. Finally he made his way back up to the release site, where he eagerly fed on a carcass the biologists had provided to keep the flock close to home.

Watching the young condors claim their independence is a little like watching your kid go off to school for the first time, says Williams-Claussen. “It makes you happy, but there’s still a niggling worry as they start to spread their wings.”

Those worries are well-founded: California condors are critically endangered, and every bird alive today is a descendant of a captive-breeding program that prevented the species’ extinction.

Condors still face real dangers out in the wild, the greatest of which is lead poisoning. As scavengers, they only eat carrion and risk ingesting lead when they consume the remains of animals killed with lead ammunition. This includes hunted game like deer and elk as well as “pest” animals such as coyotes and ground squirrels, who are frequently shot by ranchers and farmers.

Late last fall the remains of three poached elk were discovered in Northern California in areas the condors are known to frequent. X-rays revealed lead fragments in the neck of one of the carcasses — enough to kill several condors.

“This is about as close as you can get to a worst-case scenario,” Chris West, Yurok wildlife department manager, wrote in a Facebook post about the incident.

At least four condors were just a 10-minute flight away from the poaching event when it happened. Fortunately, the carcasses were recovered before the birds discovered them. But experts worry that other condors might not be so lucky in the future.

A Barrier to Recovery

It takes very little lead — a gram or less, or about 1% of a typical rifle bullet — to sicken or kill the giant raptors. It’s a slow, painful death: The lead shuts down digestion, weakens muscles, and eventually damages organs, including the brain. In the period between 1992 — when nearly extinct condors were released back into the wild — and 2021, 120 birds died of lead poisoning, accounting for over half the deaths among wild birds. Even condors who don’t ingest a lethal amount of lead can experience side effects that further threaten their development or survival.

As early as 2010, the Yurok Tribe began reaching out to hunters, first within the tribe, then outside, to educate them about how lead ammunition harms wild animals.

“We had a lot of individual success; 85-95% of hunters we talked to said they didn’t realize lead was an issue and of course they would switch,” says Williams-Claussen.

 

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Part of the Tribe’s Hunters as Stewards program involved handing out free nonlead ammunition. That had to stop in 2018, after a new California law limited ammunition distribution to licensed vendors. The Tribe has since partnered with Ventana Wildlife Society, which holds such a license, to distribute a limited amount of lead-free ammunition.

“As Tribal members, harvesting game has been part of our life forever,” says Williams-Claussen. “We’re really hoping to increase nonlead availability to help folks make that transition.”

In July 2019 California banned hunting wildlife with lead ammunition, although it still allowed sales for other purposes.

That should have helped condors. But since the law went into effect, lead poisoning deaths have gone up, not down.

The reasons for this are complicated, says Kelly Sorenson, executive director for Ventana Wildlife Society, which co-manages the wild condor flock in Central California with Pinnacles National Park. The overall market share for nonlead ammunition is around 10%, and at least one major wholesaler has stopped shipping to California, further tightening supply.

California also requires that ammunition transactions happen face to face. “When you go to the store you have an extremely low probability of getting the ammo you want, especially .22 [rifle ammunition],” says Sorenson. This is frustrating for rural ranchers who must drive long distances to purchase ammunition, he adds. Too many customers who might have been willing to switch end up driving home with lead ammo.

Since 2012 Ventana has provided nonlead ammunition to local ranchers and hunters in Central California, which is home to a flock of about 100 free-flying condors. As ammo availability has shrunk, this service has become even more vital.

Private land holds some of the best condor habitat, and in many cases, once landowners understand the dangers of lead ammunition — not just for condors, but for other animals and humans — they become vital partners in conservation, says Sorenson.

One by One

A recent incident shows how technology and outreach work together to help protect condors.

Ventana’s biologists keep close tabs on their flock using signals from the birds’ GPS transmitters. “We can map out where these birds are on a daily basis and even infer when they are feeding,” says Sorenson. One day last fall, they noticed several condors feeding in a new location. Mike Stake, who runs Ventana’s nonlead program, knew that area ranchers are constantly battling with ground squirrels over their hay crops and other property damage. He reached out to a rancher in that area to see if they were using nonlead ammunition.

“The guy wrote back, ‘It’s terrible. I can’t find it anywhere and I have condors flying and feeding all over the place,’ ” says Sorenson. Stake immediately drove to the ranch and delivered lead-free ammunition. The rancher told eight of his neighbors. All eight called within a week, requesting lead-free ammo.

 

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As successful as Ventana’s nonlead ammunition program has been, its scope is limited. In the long run, full recovery of the species will require reducing lead use across the condor’s present and future range.

“We know that the death rate due to lead poisoning is so high that without ongoing releases from captive flocks the population [of wild condors] would not be self-sustaining,” says Sorenson. “The good news is, if we can just lower those lead deaths to a reasonable level, there’s every reason to think condors will bounce back, much like bald eagles and peregrine falcons have.”

Reducing the Lead Threat in Oregon

The Yurok regard condor, or Prey-go-neesh, as sacred. The condor plays an important role in the Tribe’s creation story and ceremonies, and its relationship with the birds extends back thousands of years. In restoring the condor, the Yurok are restoring their cultural landscape, too.

Condor fans are anticipating the day when the giant scavengers spread out through the Pacific Northwest and return to the skies above Oregon. Leland Brown, manager for the nonlead hunting education program at Oregon Zoo, has been preparing for that day for years. Since 2015, the zoo, which breeds condors for the wild population, has worked to reduce lead exposure in “nontarget” wildlife, primarily raptors.

“We’re providing options that allow hunters to be successful but remove or mitigate lead exposure to wildlife,” explains Brown. This includes sharing information and hosting events where hunters can test nonlead ammunition in their own firearms.

In 2018 the Oregon Zoo partnered with the Oregon Department of Fish and Wildlife on a pilot incentive program in northeast Oregon for elk-hunters on the Zumwalt Prairie Preserve, which is managed by The Nature Conservancy. The program is still active today. Before the hunt, Brown sends hunters a request to consider using nonlead ammo. A check-in process allows hunters to show that they are using nonlead ammunition and explain the reasoning behind their choices. Participants are entered into a drawing to win gift cards.

When the program started, only 20-25% of nearly 300 hunters used nonlead ammunition. By 2019 and 2020, the number had risen to over 75%.

The partners are building on this success and expanding the program statewide. They are also launching a study with Portland State University and recruiting hunters to test the performance of different types of bullets.

Nonlead ammunition isn’t as scarce in Oregon as it is in California, says Brown. One of the biggest barriers he observes stems from doubts about how the ammunition will perform.

“Some hunters wait several years to draw a tag,” says Brown. “They have concerns that they might be switching to ammunition that isn’t as effective.” Although research studies and filmed demonstrations prove the efficacy of lead-free copper ammunition, forums where people can ask questions and, better yet, test the products and decide for themselves, are critical.

“As much as we like to think conservation is about wildlife, it’s just as much about human behavior,” says Brown, who cofounded the North American Non-lead Partnership in 2018. “If we’re able to accomplish the same effect [as legislation] using voluntary efforts then we’re probably building a more durable outcome in the long run.”

Every Bird Is Sacred

Condor crews working in Yurok ancestral territory are dedicated to helping their small flock thrive and grow. They plan to release at least four birds each year for 20 years, and they will continue to provide lead-free carcasses sourced from local ranches (and occasionally, road-killed animals) to help reduce the condors’ exposure to tainted meat. Biologists will capture the birds twice a year for health checks. Any bird found to have lead in its system can be treated through a blood-filtering process called chelation.

But stopping the poisoning before condors eat lead remains key. Condor crews closely monitor the birds’ movements; if they suspect the birds are “wild foraging” on a carcass, they will visit the site and make sure it isn’t contaminated with lead.

Understanding where lead is in use is key: The National Park Service has partnered with the Tribe on joint funding proposals to investigate the risks of lead contamination in the recently released birds, says Karin Grantham, resource management and science program manager for Redwood National Park. The two entities are also working with nonprofits to help educate the public on the dangers of lead ammunition to all wildlife, especially condors.

Will the eight birds in the burgeoning flock encounter deadly toxins in their new home? The condors are starting to fly farther afield, says Williams-Claussen. They’ve explored as far as the Klamath River and even made it to the coast — about 80 miles.

Watching the young birds acquire skills has been fun, says Williams-Claussen, adding that the second cohort of condors, taking cues from the first, has been much quicker to venture out.

“Every condor is critical and sacred,” Williams-Claussen wrote in a Facebook post about the elk-poaching incident. “Older condors teach younger birds how to make it in the wild. When a condor dies prematurely from lead poisoning, all of the knowledge it amassed throughout its life…is lost.”

Previously in The Revelator:

Saving California Condors — With a Chisel and Hand Puppets

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United States Includes Dam Emissions in UN Climate Reporting for the First Time

Better accounting can go a long way in establishing sound policy to tackle the climate crisis.

The Environmental Protection Agency recently earned applause from environmental groups for a move that went largely unnoticed.

For the first time, the U.S. government in 2022 included methane emissions from dams and reservoirs in its annual report of human-caused greenhouse gas emissions to the Inventory of Greenhouse Gases and Sinks required by the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change.

“It’s a big deal that they’re now reporting this,” says Gary Wockner, executive director of the river advocacy group Save the Colorado.

While we’ve long known that coal and gas-fired power plants emit troubling amounts of greenhouse gases, research has found that reservoirs can emit significant amounts of methane, too — which has a global warming potential 85 times that of carbon dioxide over 20 years — along with smaller amounts of nitrous oxide and CO2.

Emissions from some reservoirs can even rival that of fossil fuel power plants. Yet, until now, there’s been no real accounting at the national or international level for these emissions, which fall under the category of “flooded lands.”

“To our knowledge, the U.S. is the first country to include estimates of methane emissions from flooded lands in their greenhouse gas inventory,” the EPA press office told The Revelator.

That may be in part because calculating reservoir emissions isn’t a simple task, as The Revelator reported last year:

Tracking emissions from reservoirs is complicated and highly variable. Emissions can change at different times of the year or even day. They’re influenced by how the dam is managed, including fluctuations in the water level, as well as a host of environmental factors like water quality, depth, sediment, surface wind speed and temperature.

“We’re happy the EPA’s doing it,” says Wockner. “And we’re looking for the next step, which is refinement in the modeling.”

White water churning out of dam spillways.
Water rushes through 12 spillway gates at the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers’ Hartwell Dam in Georgia. Photo: Doug Young, (CC BY 2.0)

EPA researchers are working to improve how they calculate those emissions, and they’re also conducting a four-year study of CO2 and methane emissions from 108 randomly selected U.S. reservoirs. This aims to “inform a greater understanding of the amount of greenhouse gases emitted from U.S. reservoirs, and the environmental factors that determine the rate of greenhouse gas emissions from reservoirs,” according to the agency’s website.

Wockner applauded the EPA for those important actions but has urged the agency to go even further.

Last year his nonprofit, along with more than 100 other organizations, petitioned the EPA to begin a rulemaking to include dams and reservoirs under the United States’ Greenhouse Gas Reporting Program, which currently requires 8,000 facilities, including coal- and gas-burning power plants, to declare their greenhouse gas emissions. Hydroelectric plants and other reservoirs aren’t currently included in that list.

There are a few reasons why they should report their emissions, the petitioners explain. Hydropower is largely regarded as a clean, emissions-free energy source — although research suggests otherwise.

“As a result, the federal government, states and utilities frequently make decisions regarding climate policies and advancing toward a cleaner electric sector based on incomplete information and mistaken assumptions regarding dams and reservoirs’ greenhouse gas emissions,” the petition states.

If operators of hydroelectric dams are required to regularly report emissions, that would help agencies, nonprofits and the public better assess whether current dams should be relicensed or decommissioned — and whether new projects should be built.

The result, the petitioners say, would be “better-informed climate policies and better-informed permitting decisions.” A win-win.

The United States continuing to report dam emissions to the United Nations, and at home, would also send an important international signal.

“The U.S. helps set climate policy across the planet and helps fund various development projects through the World Bank, the International Monetary Fund, United States Agency for International Development, and others,” says Wockner. “Accounting and reporting the greenhouse gas emissions from dams is a critical step forward in climate policy.”

Previously in The Revelator:

Dam Accounting: Taking Stock of Methane Emissions From Reservoirs

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Protect This Place: Jellico Mountains, Home of Magical Waterways and Unique Species

A 10,000-acre logging project threatens endangered species, recreation and nearby communities.

The Place:

The Jellico Mountains are on the southern edge of the Daniel Boone National Forest along the Kentucky-Tennessee state line. Here the Appalachian foothills turn into the steep slopes of the Appalachian Mountains, giving rise to remote forests hosting some of the highest tree and aquatic species diversity in the United States.Protect This Place

Why it matters:

The geology and geography of the area create a rich diversity of both flora and fauna. Eroded sandstone has formed gorges, cliffs, waterfalls, rock shelters, natural arches, bridges and caves that provide critical habitat for many endangered, threatened, and rare plant and animal species. Opportunities for outdoor recreation are plentiful here and provide solitude and adventure to those seeking a relationship with the natural world. This area is also home to nearly 1,300 acres of secondary old-growth forest, much of which is proposed to be clearcut.

Kentucky Heartwood Executive Director, Lauren Kallmeyer next to an old growth hickory in Jellico. Photo: Tina Camp Scheff. Used with permission.

 

The threat:

A proposed U.S. Forest Service project includes nearly 5,000 acres of clearcutting and 5,000 acres of selective logging and thinning. When forested areas are clearcut, they become vulnerable to landslides and erosion. The steep Jellico Mountains are not suitable for this type of logging. Clearcutting, coupled with record breaking and catastrophic storms, has caused landslides on other recently logged Forest Service land in eastern Kentucky.

project map.
Credit: Jim Scheff and Chris Karounos, KYHW

Legacy impacts from coal mining, along with significant problems with invasive plant species, add to the challenges of protecting and restoring this unique area. The threat of flash flooding in the valleys is amplified under these compounding conditions. We have seen firsthand the devastation extreme weather events have caused across eastern Kentucky in the past few years. Protecting this forest also means protecting the people who live there.

Landslides not only erode the soil and damage the mycelial networks that the forest depends on to regrow, but they also have the potential to push endangered aquatic species to extinction through sedimentation of waterways.

landslide scar
Photo: Jim Scheff, KYHW staff ecologist. Used with permission.

Jellico Creek is one of the main waterways that curves through the bottom of these mountains. Along with its gorgeous blue-green color, it holds some of the last remaining critical habitat for the Cumberland darter (Etheostoma susanae), a fish only found in isolated populations in the upper Cumberland River system of Kentucky and Tennessee. Other endangered species like the Cumberland elktoe and blackside dace could also be imperiled by the project.

Our place in this place:

Kentucky Heartwood, where we work, has been exploring the Jellico Mountains for several years to locate rare plants and old trees, scope landslides from prior logging projects, and enjoy the beauty and scenery of the area. While there are no established hiking trails, there are old logging roads and gravel Forest Service roads that offer miles of enjoyable recreation by foot or mountain bike along with beautiful winter views into Kentucky and Tennessee.

Jellico Creek, with large boulders that make for perfect lunch spots and several pretty waterfalls, is a gem that should be preserved for all species in our ecosystem to enjoy.

Blue green creek waters with trees on bank
Jellico Creek. Photo: Lauren Kallmeyer, KYHW executive director. Used with permission.

The lack of designated trails is one of our favorite features of this area. As you walk into the woods with no set path, it becomes a choose-your-own-adventure game. The things to discover open up to you when you explore off the beaten path.

The area’s forests rival some of the largest and most diverse we see in the region. Towering basswood, hickories and oaks are accented by yellowwood trees, among the rarest endemic trees in the eastern United States. North-facing slopes are filled with medicinal herbs like black cohosh. One fall day we discovered a rare Appalachian gentian flower tucked into the sandstone cliff line. Both the Appalachian gentian and black cohosh are on United Plant Savers’ “species at risk” list from overharvesting and habitat loss, reminding us of the richness that still exists here in Kentucky as well as the sensitivity of these populations.

Who’s protecting it now:

Kentucky Heartwood closely monitors Forest Service activity in the Daniel Boone and advocates for protecting and defending Kentucky’s public wildlands. Since 1992 we have proudly called ourselves “forest defenders,” but we aren’t alone.

The community at the base of the Jellico Mountains initiated an incredible public campaign to “stop the chop” in response to the Forest Service’s scoping analysis. The highlight of this public involvement was a town meeting that community members held with the agency. With over 100 people in attendance, the room was packed with local residents who oppose the project, from property owners who will be directly affected to career loggers who acknowledged the risks involved with logging on such steep slopes.

Trees with green leaves.
Jellico Mountains forest. Photo: Tina Camp Scheff. Used with permission.

As a result, more than 300 comments were formally submitted to the Forest Service in opposition to the project, including several highly respected environmental legal nonprofits (the Center for Biological Diversity, Southern Environmental Law Center and Kentucky Resource Council). This coalition is regrouping to prepare for the next phase of the project, the Environmental Analysis public comment period, which is expected in June 2023.

What this place needs:

A groundswell of well-organized community opposition has stopped logging projects on national forests in the past. The Jellico community will continue to rally opposition to halt this project as the Forest Service moves onto the next phase.

In order to get this project withdrawn we have to continue to engage local residents, news outlets, environmental law firms and politicians to take a stand.

The Daniel Boone National Forest is a place of refuge, beauty, abundance and adventure. We would like to see a focus on creating more recreation opportunities in this area instead of extractive projects like this one.

Every decision we make today will leave generations of people growing into adulthood with questions about why we chose profit and extraction over protection. We are running out of time to blame it on ignorance. The old-growth forests that used to dominate the landscape of eastern Kentucky are a thing of the past. With what little secondary old growth we have left, every measure to ensure its protection should be our utmost priority.

The climate crisis is nipping at our heels, and these forests are one of our greatest assets in combating climate change through the drawdown of greenhouse gases. The forest is our solution, and it is worth more standing. 

Lessons from the fight:

While we may think that environmentalists gravitate toward a certain political orientation in reality, love for nature spans all political divides. The community-led effort to stop the Jellico logging project reflects a diverse coalition of people with common goals, which makes a “David vs. Goliath” effort more achievable.

Join the fight!

We know public participation in opposing projects like the Jellico Mountain logging project can stop them in their tracks.

There will be a second opportunity — tentatively June 2023 — for the public, regardless of where one lives, to make a comment on this project.

Visit Forest Watch to stay up to date. Or follow us on Facebook or Instagram.

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