Protect This Place: Tallahassee’s Towering English Forest Faces Imminent Destruction

Home to one of the city’s last intact forests, this privately owned gem could soon face bulldozers and construction.

The Place:

An unprotected 740-plus-acre hardwood forest in southeast Tallahassee, Florida, called the English Property Planned Unit Development and PUD Amendment. This majestic upland hardwood forest, privately owned by the English family for a couple of generations, has withstood the test of time but has now become a figurative endangered species.

Why it matters:

This forest abounds with wildlife. According to a Biodiversity Matrix Report recently obtained from the Florida Natural Areas Inventory, a federally threatened flora species called zigzag silkgrass has been documented in or near this forest. The same report found a likely or potential presence of federally threatened and endangered fauna species such as the eastern indigo snake, wood stork, gopher tortoise and red-cockaded woodpecker, along with myriad other native flora and fauna.

English Forest — Photo courtesy midori okasako

This unprotected forest has been part of a crucial natural wildlife corridor that extends south into the Apalachicola National Forest. Much of the urban green corridor that still connects to this English forest is already protected, thanks to a privately preserved, sustainable conservation easement and an adjacent neighborhood with a conservation park maintained by the city of Tallahassee. Construction on the English forest would sever this wildlife corridor and add barriers for species roaming through these habitats.

In addition to featuring amazing biodiversity, this forest sits on a prominent geomorphic feature called the Cody Scarp, formed from an ancient shoreline. The land’s elevation significantly drops at the Woodville Karst Plain, an area characterized by active features such as sinkholes, karst lakes, a spring head, springs and underground streams. According to the Basinwide Management Action Plan, prepared by the Florida Department of Environmental Protection, this site is in the Wakulla Spring Basin, a recharge area for the Wakulla Springs. This forest’s karst plain is a high-priority protection area uniquely vulnerable to runoff and stormwater containing nitrogen. Contaminants could easily seep into the Floridan Aquifer, which is connected to the Edward Ball Wakulla Springs State Park, and other sinkholes in the park located about 15 miles south of Tallahassee.

My place in this place:

As a youth, I spent many waking hours in a metropolis of sleek steel and glass, amid hordes of people, my day punctuated with pulsating sounds and lights. Yet at the end of the day’s sensory overload, an hour away by rail, a place of calm and silence always awaited me: this sylvan shelter in a valley nestled in small, forested mountains. Decades later, when driving by the English forest, I often reminisce about my childhood exploring those mountains, with city memories having long faded into hazy obscuration.

This city’s forests are also fading. Until the turn of the new millennium, lush greenery with majestic trees were ubiquitous at almost every corner of Tallahassee, our “Tree City.” Now our city is about to be engulfed by urban sprawl of short-lived, manmade constructions built without foresight or consideration of the environmental consequences.

The threat:

In 2012 the northernmost 245 acres of the English Property PUD were rezoned by the city of Tallahassee, and portions of the forest were completely clearcut. Construction soon began, resulting in the VA Tallahassee Outpatient Clinic in 2016, Lullwater multistory apartment complex in 2018, and Russell State of Florida Office Park (ironically housing the Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission) in 2019. Builders still have plans for a 192-unit multistory apartment complex on a sloped 17-acre tract of this portion of the former forest.

But that’s not all: In August 2021, developers submitted an amendment to the city to rezone the remaining 494 acres of the existing English Property PUD. This would allow the realtor, developers and potential buyers of the land to construct medium-density residentials (multistory apartment complexes, single-unit homes), mixed office/commercial complexes and “neighborhood village centers” (a euphemism for gas stations, convenience stores and fast-food places), leaving a mere fraction of the property as disjointed “open spaces” with no evidence of conservation easements.

If we don’t keep a watchful eye on the remaining 494-acre wilderness, it will be clearcut and broken up piecemeal into development parcels — an irreversible environmental disaster that would harm our communities. The area will see massive displacements and local extinctions of wildlife, including endangered and threatened species that have inhabited one of the last remaining intact ecosystems in the southeast area of the city.

Residents have fought similar proposed land-use plans for years, although pleas for preservation have mostly gone ignored.

Earlier this year, the developer abruptly revised the amendment, as a temporary measure, to only rezone 36 acres of the original PUD to expedite yet another multistory, 300-unit apartment complex. The realtor has made clear that they are still eventually going to proceed to have the remaining 494 acres rezoned — as a whole or piecemeal, as parcels — for construction, so this is not progress, merely a change in tactics.

The City Commission is scheduled to render a vote on March 23, 2022. If it’s successful, this would move the 36 acres into the 2012 PUD and rezone this parcel for construction.

Who’s protecting it now:

Regrettably, the forested English Property PUD is privately owned. Ironically, residents who live near this property appear to care more about the forest’s wellbeing than the owners.

In February, six individuals of different age groups and social standings presented during the City Commission’s public hearing. Their underlying appeals were to urge the city commissioners, as well as staff and the developers, to listen to them and to consider their concerns and suggestions. Shortly after the hearing, we finally coined our collective efforts Save the English Forest, or Save TEF. Having a united front will allow us to strive forward; we plan to meet with city staff, the developer and the realtor and propose modifications on the PUD. We also intend to request opportunities to meet with the city commissioners and the English family.

Meanwhile, the developer and the realtor who have been representing the English family have stated that the owners wish to do what’s best for Tallahassee, and they would like to “leave a lasting legacy.”

Ultimately, we’d like the real lasting legacy of this land to be preserved — along with its wildlife, its natural resources and its features. Allowing the forest to continue to thrive under public protection and conservation would be great investment that would endure for generations. We are currently collecting information on the how to have the remaining forest so it can be preserved by a local conservancy, the state, or a couple of other public entities. However, we know the final decision is up the owner of this forest.

What this place needs:

The bottom line is that the city of Tallahassee has become lax in permitting and rezoning constructions.

Prior to construction, it’s imperative that the city, the realtors, the developers and even the owner grant requested meetings with concerned members of the community whose homes neighbor the property and will be adversely affected. This will allow us to reexamine and modify the cookie-cutter land-use plan to significantly integrate more acres as conservation easements that will be connected so they can effectively function as permanent green corridors and sustainable wildlife habitats. Currently slivers of sloped, unbuildable and swampy, undesirable areas have been set aside as a “open spaces,” implying as conservation easements.

Since the southeast region of Tallahassee is currently deprived of a public-protected preservation area, designating a significant portion of the English property — specifically, areas that are considered vulnerable, buffering surrounding parcels and green corridors — could be acquisitioned by a national nonprofit organization and eventually handed over to the state of Florida or the Northwest Water Management District. For example, the 1,000-foot parcels adjacent to the city’s 52-acre Jack L. McLean Park could be publicly preserved and managed to promote passive nature-appreciation activities and to function as habitat for wildlife.

Lessons from the fight:

Since the initiation of raising residents’ awareness about the plight of the English forest, the first question I often encounter has been, “Can you win this fight?” All too often, it has become keenly obvious that most people only want to know the result, even before it happens. As with any undertaking, it is all in the laborious process. It has been one individual, one step, one voice, one flyer, one email, one small gathering, one commitment, one action at a time. There are no quick or easy shortcuts.

Not everyone supports our efforts — in fact, many have already made up their minds against them, believing there is nothing to gain from them. There have been oppositions to our efforts. Nonetheless, since time is of the essence, we strive to focus on the immediate task, with the responsive support and dedication of those who really care.

It is crucial to publicly address one’s concerns, make comments, and submit input on the record. Casual complaints, silence, complacency and inaction will yield nothing. One learns to become flexible in order to quickly react and adjust to sudden alternations and to last-minute meeting notifications.

It is a time-consuming, exhaustive endeavor. Yet, collectively, there is a chance to make a difference and to modify the course to save and to preserve much of the forest. We need to speak up for the forest and its wildlife — for they alone have no voice, no choice.

Follow the fight:

Save the English Forest

Previously in The Revelator:

Protect This Place: The Fragile and Enchanting Costa dos Corais

A Historic Chance to Protect America’s Free-Flowing Rivers

Ten bills in Congress would add conservation protections to 7,000 miles of river to safeguard drinking water, biodiversity and recreation.

Each year thousands of tourists who visit Central Oregon trudge up a steep half-mile path to see Tumalo Creek emerge from the pine forest and plunge 97 feet over lava rock into a narrow canyon. Tumalo Falls is the highlight for visitors who hike along the 20-mile creek. But for residents in nearby Bend, the creek is also a prized source of drinking water and a haven for wildlife.

Years-long efforts to protect the ecological integrity and scenic values of Tumalo Creek could be solidified with a bill now in Congress. The River Democracy Act would designate not just Tumalo but 4,711 miles of rivers throughout the state as part of the National Wild and Scenic Rivers System.

“This legislation will be good news for anyone who likes clean drinking water, fish and wildlife habitat, and public lands recreation,” says Erik Fernandez, wilderness program manager at Oregon Wild. “It will protect some of the most scenic rivers we have in Oregon.”

The National Wild and Scenic Rivers System was established in 1968 after passage of the Wild and Scenic Rivers Act. Under the Act, rivers are classified as “wild,” “scenic” or “recreational,” depending on the surrounding development — or lack thereof — and are managed to maintain those values. In general, that usually means no new dams and mining claims, and a designation could also limit other kinds of developments, including logging and roadbuilding.

As of 2019 the nation’s Wild and Scenic Rivers System included 13,400 miles — less than one-half of 1% of the country’s river miles. But Congress has a chance this year to significantly expand the system.

There are currently 10 bills in Congress, including Oregon’s River Democracy Act, that, if passed, would add 7,000 miles to the national tally and an additional 5 million acres of protections of riverside land. Most additions to the system come by congressional legislation like this, but states can also make nominations to the secretary of the Interior.

In addition to Oregon’s River Democracy Act, the other bills in Congress include:

The M.H. Dutch Salmon Greater Gila Wild and Scenic Rivers Act, which would designate nearly 450 miles of river in New Mexico along the Gila and San Francisco rivers and tributaries.
The Wild Olympics Act, which would designate 454 miles of river in Washington in the Queets, Hoh and Elwha rivers.
In California, the Northwest California Wilderness, Recreation, and Working Forests Act would protect 480 miles of river including sections of the South Fork Trinity, Canyon Creek and South Fork Elk River.
Another California bill, the Central Coast Heritage Protection Act, would cover 59 miles of river, including Matilija Creek, Mono Creek and Indian Creek.
The San Gabriel Mountains Foothills and Rivers Protection Act would also add to California’s total another 45 miles of river protections in the East, North, and upper West Forks San Gabriel River.
The Montana Headwaters Legacy Act would double the state’s amount of Wild and Scenic river miles by adding 385 miles from segments of rivers and streams in the Greater Yellowstone ecosystem and Smith River watershed.
In Florida, the Kissimmee River Wild and Scenic River Study Act would help protect 103 miles of a river that has undergone a dramatic restoration.
The York River Wild and Scenic Rivers Act would add 30 miles of river protections in Maine.
The Malheur Community Empowerment for the Owyhee Act would designate 15 miles of river in Oregon’s Owyhee Canyonlands.

Proponents say the bills would help ensure clean drinking water, protect cultural resources, safeguard important habitat for aquatic and riparian species, and boost the recreational economy.

One way that would happen is by preventing harmful developments like dam building.

“It would be extremely helpful to get more and more of our free-flowing rivers designated under the Wild and Scenic Rivers Act, if for no other reason than to stop them from being dammed,” says Daniel Estrin, general counsel and advocacy director at Waterkeeper Alliance.

Building more hydropower dams “is a false solution to the climate problem and would really dramatically exacerbate problems for our rivers’ biodiversity,” he says. “And it would certainly make it much harder to reach 30×30 conservation goals where there’s an enormous amount of work that needs to be done.”

Oregon’s Historic Effort

snow along creek bank and log over creek — Tumalo Creek in Bend, Oregon. Photo: Meghan Nesbit

The River Democracy Act is by far the largest effort currently to add new Wild and Scenic designations, and it would go a long way in helping improve Oregon’s river protections. Only 2% of the state’s 110,000 river miles are protected as Wild and Scenic. The new legislation would triple that.

“Oregon hasn’t done a great job of protecting our rivers, so this is a pretty historic effort,” says Fernandez. “We’ve not seen this scale of effort here before.”

In addition to protections in Central Oregon, the bill includes tributaries of the Illinois River in the southwest part of the state, which he calls “some of the most biodiverse in the West,” as well as multiple coastal streams where protections have been lacking.

“If you want to protect salmon and steelhead, the coast range of Oregon is a great place to do that,” says Fernandez. “You have some potentially long-term viable runs that would be protected by this legislation.”

Protecting New Mexico’s Biodiversity

Compared to Oregon, New Mexico has even fewer river miles designated as Wild and Scenic — a measly 124 miles, which is less than one-tenth of 1% of all river miles in the state.

The M.H. Dutch Salmon Greater Gila Wild and Scenic Rivers Act — named after the late environmental activist, author of the book Gila Libre: The Story of New Mexico’s Last Wild River — would increase that number significantly by adding 446 miles of the Gila and San Francisco rivers in southwestern New Mexico.

“This bill seeks to currently protect the entire watershed of both the Gila Wilderness and the Aldo Leopold Wilderness as well as major tributaries that are outside of the existing wilderness areas,” says Nathan Newcomer, an organizer at New Mexico Wild.

Land protections in the region came nearly a century ago. The Gila Wilderness was the first designated wilderness area in the country. Aldo Leopold advocated for its protection as supervisor of New Mexico’s Carson National Forest in 1924.

River protections however are long overdue, says Newcomer. And they’re needed.

One of the biggest benefits of the bill, if passed, he says, would be ensuring that no dams are built.

Backpackers crossing a stream in New Mexico’s Gila Wilderness. Photo: Bradley Lanphear / No Barriers (CC BY-NC-ND 2.0)

“People have been trying to dam the Gila River for over 100 years,” he says. “We’re constantly faced with threats for major dams and diversions on the Gila River and the Wild and Scenic designation’s main tenet is to prevent that from happening.”

Keeping rivers in the watershed flowing free would also help protect the area’s rich biodiversity.

“The Gila is in a really unique area in terms of ecological configuration where you’ve got the Colorado Plateau coming into the Chihuahuan and Sonoran deserts,” says Newcomer. The area includes forests of cottonwood, sycamore and ponderosa that are home to 250 bird species.

“The riparian habitat for birds alone is just immense,” he says.

The region is also home to threatened and endangered species like yellow-billed cuckoos, Chiricahua leopard frogs, northern Mexican garter snakes, southwestern willow flycatchers and Gila trout.

Legislative Action

The public often widely supports river conservation efforts. In New Mexico, for example, polling found that three-quarters of state residents support the new Wild and Scenic rivers bill. It also has the backing of local Tribes, faith and civic organizations, and more than 150 local businesses and conservation groups.

“This has been a community-driven effort,” says Newcomer. “The local communities have come together and asked Congress to get this into law.”

The situation is similar in Oregon where 50 breweries in the state announced their support of the River Democracy Act. Another 200 businesses added their approval in a letter last October. Clean and free-flowing rivers aid the recreation economy, which totaled more than $15 billion in Oregon in 2019.

“You’ve got this big cross section of everybody from hunters and anglers to trail runners and breweries all supporting protecting our rivers,” says Fernandez.

Even with support in home states, getting the 10 river-protection bills through Congress will be a fight.

Today marks 1 year since @RonWyden and @SenJeffMerkley introduced the #RiverDemocracyAct! It’s made positive progress through the Senate, now we just need to get it across the finish line. Join us in thanking them today! #WildandScenicOregon pic.twitter.com/Z0gDBNIrJ7

— Oregon Wild (@OregonWild) February 3, 2022

“It used to be that provincial bills like this would pass with straight up or down votes back in the 60s, 70s and 80s,” says Fernandez. “But the last couple of times we’ve had bills [like this] pass nationally, it’s been part of what we call omnibus bills, where you need enough bills from around the country that there are enough senators who have something in it they want.”

Whether a big bill like that comes together in this election year remains to be seen. But Fernandez says that the pandemic has helped remind people of the benefits of protected public land and waters.

“The peace of mind for so many people these last couple of years has been safely getting outside,” he says. “I just hope that everybody who wants to can get out to a river or on public lands and enjoy it.”

Previously in The Revelator:

Can Roadless Areas Help Stem the Extinction Crisis in the United States?

20 Endangered Species at Risk in Ukraine

Will Russia’s invasion threaten not just innocent people but the country’s unique wildlife?

The Russian bombs falling on Ukraine are putting millions of people and a vibrant culture at risk.

Vladimir Putin’s invading forces could also damage the Ukrainian landscape, home to dozens of unique and endangered species.

Here are 20 species that could find themselves further threatened by the invasion.

Russian desman (Desmana moschata) — The only member of its genus, this endangered semiaquatic mammal is related to moles (and like moles, it’s functionally blind). Found in Russia, Kazakhstan and Ukraine — and recently extinct in nearby Belarus — the species faces declines due to poachers’ fishing nets and habitat loss. It went extinct in Ukraine in the 19th century but was reintroduced there in the 1950s — around the same time Joseph Stalin died.

Sandy mole-rat (Spalax arenarius) — A rodent unique to Ukraine, this endangered species has just one remaining stronghold, the Black Sea Biosphere Reserve, which may put it firmly in the path of Putin’s invading forces.

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Crimean rowan (Sorbus tauricola) — Native only to Ukraine, this rare plant exists in just 3-5 locations, where an invasive wasp called the mountain ash seed chalcide (Megastigmus brevicaudis) damages 99% of its seeds before they can become the next generation.

Vitrea nadejdae — This endangered snail is known from just five locations in Ukraine, each of which is (or was) a popular tourist destination.

Saker falcon (Falco cherrug) — This wide-ranging but endangered species faces a host of threats across its range. The birds don’t breed in Ukraine, but they do spend time there every year. The Ukrainian Birds of Prey Research Centre calls the population in the country “extremely vulnerable.” War won’t make the nation any more hospitable.

Zubowski’s plump bush-cricket (Isophya zubowskii) — Most of this endangered insect’s habitat is found in Romania, but its populations in Moldova and Ukraine are described as “very small and isolated.”

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Idänvaskinen (Orthonevra plumbago) — This hoverfly was historically found in more than a dozen European countries, but according to the IUCN “all assumed 10 localities might be so small that they are at the risk of immediate extinction.”

Betula klokovii — Endemic to Ukraine, this birch tree remains in just two mountainous locations. Its population has declined to about 50 mature individuals, mainly due to mining and chalk quarrying.

Pontian shemaya (Alburnus sarmaticus) — This endangered carp may be extinct in Hungary and Romania, but it remains in Croatia, Slovenia and Ukraine. Its current population is unknown.

Crimean stone grasshopper (Asiotmethis tauricus) — This endangered insect is found in just a small portion of Ukraine, including Crimea. It also lived in Russia, but its continued presence in that country is uncertain. Most of its former habitat has been converted to farmland.

Melanogaster jaroslavensis — This fruit fly is known from just seven locations in Russia and one in Ukraine. Grazing, fertilizer pollution and river development have made it endangered.

Chornaya gudgeon (Gobio delyamurei) — This critically endangered carp is restricted to a 1 kilometer stretch of stream below Ukraine’s Chornaya Gorge. The IUCN, which hasn’t assessed the species since 2008, warns this tiny habitat “may totally dry up in the summertime” and adds that “the species is also susceptible to climate change as the severity of droughts is predicted to increase.”

Retowski’s tonged bush-cricket (Anadrymadusa retowskii) — Native only to Ukraine, this insect has become endangered due to habitat destruction. The IUCN warns that some of its severely fragmented populations “may go extinct.”

Sorbus roopiana — Ukraine is one of the four countries in which this plant still grows, although according to the IUCN “the populations in Crimea are separated from the main part of its distribution.” Fewer than 100 individuals are thought to remain on Earth.

Merodon dzhalitae — An endangered hoverfly found only in Crimea, which has mostly been carved up by urbanization.

Medicago saxatilis — An endangered herb with no common name, known from just five locations in Crimea.

Andrena labiatula — This Ukrainian bee hasn’t been seen since 1963 and is only known from three specimens found on the Crimean peninsula. It’s officially listed as critically endangered.

Cobitis taurica — This poorly studied freshwater fish, a relative of Europe’s spined loach, exists in under one mile of a river below Chornaya Gorge.

Allium pervestitum — A garlic relative, this plant grows in just two areas of Ukraine. Limestone quarrying and urbanization put it on the endangered species list.

Фискомитриум песчаный (Physcomitrium arenicola) — This endangered moss grows in Russia and Ukraine, where it’s at risk from intensive livestock grazing and tree plantations. Scientists don’t know how well the species is doing — only that it’s rare. The IUCN says its populations are “considered to be severely fragmented since the subpopulations are small and isolated from each other.”

Previously in The Revelator:

Memorializing the Wake Island Rail: An Extinction Caused by War

It’s Time for a Global Treaty on Plastics

The United Nations has an opportunity to address plastic pollution on an international level. Will it finally act?

In 2016 I sailed with scientists across an oceanic vortex filled with plastic and other human detritus swirling between the coasts of Hawai‘i and California to see the Great Pacific Garbage Patch. While the word patch seems to confer a floating island of trash, the reality is far more dire: A shocking amount of consumer waste has traveled to a place distant from any kind of human settlement, creating a dense, uncontainable soup of all manner of plastic stuff, from household objects to fishing gear — and the infinite number of small chemical-laced particles all plastics constantly shed.

As representatives of United Nations member states prepare to meet Feb. 28-March 2 at the fifth Environment Assembly in Nairobi, Kenya, addressing plastic pollution in the seas is a top priority. But they must recognize that, like the illusion of the “Garbage Patch,” our present plastic predicament is far more catastrophic than most people are aware — and it continues to worsen.

Tiny toxic plastic particles now permeate not only the oceans, but indoor and outdoor air, freshwaters, soils, plants, outer space, and the bodies of humans and other animals. UN negotiators must take urgent steps to recognize plastic pollution as more than a matter of litter in the ocean, as it has historically — and misleadingly — been portrayed. It’s now time to develop a binding, enforceable agreement that would require the plastics industry and other entities that have supported its rapid rise be held accountable for the damages caused to people and the planet, and lay out a pathway to a safe, equitable future without plastics.

plastic beach — Plastic on a beach in Mumbai. Photo: Ravi Khemka (CC BY 2.0)

In the long span of human history, plastic is a relatively new invention, only rolled out for mass production in the mid-1900s. By 1960, when widespread use of plastic was not yet ubiquitous globally, plastics made up less than 1% of household trash by weight in middle- and high-income countries. Today plastics make up at least 10% of the same countries’ household waste. In less than 80 years, industries have churned out more than 8.3 billion metric tons of various kinds of petrochemical-based plastics, most of which has been discarded or entered nature and will never benignly biodegrade.

plastic beach Hawaii — Plastic on a beach in Hawai‘i. Photo: LCDR Eric Johnson, NOAA Corps.

Just 9% of thrown-away plastic is recycled, mainly because industry doesn’t design most plastics to be recycled. It’s much cheaper to throw it away, and governments and waste-hauling industries make fortunes off others’ misfortunes.

All the plastic we use will never disappear. Instead it is shipped, landfilled, incinerated, open-burned or dumped in someone else’s backyard to release noxious odors, plastic particles, dangerous toxins, diseases and climate-warming greenhouse gases.

All along the plastics production, transportation and disposal pipeline, it’s predominantly communities of color and lower-income people who are harmed by pollution, industrial emissions, plastics’ toxic chemicals and industrial accidents. For these reasons, plastics were finally recognized last year by the UN as an urgent human-rights problem, though frontline communities have been fighting continued fossil fuel, chemical and plastics development for many decades. Our world is presently set up to allow plastics’ producers to benefit from a kind of industrialized systemic racism as toxic and insidious as plastic itself.

Plastic Ghana — Plastic waste clogs sewers in Ghana. Photo: Sucram Yef (CC BY 2.0)

But plastic’s toxic reach harms us all. Plastic is made with any combination of thousands of chemicals known to harm humans — including hormone-disrupting PFAS, phthalates and BPA. Plastic particles and the chemicals they carry are accumulating in plants, animals and ecosystems, our bodies and bloodstreams alike, and are even passed down through generations. Recent research suggests mothers pass plastic particles into their babies’ bodies through the placenta. People appear to eat, drink and breathe in plastic pieces. One researcher, Sherri Mason, described them to me once as “little poison pills.”

Plastics and their particles — and the hundreds of thousands of other synthetic chemicals humans have created — have become so widespread across the planet in the past century that scientists recently published a peer-reviewed scientific paper warning there’s more entering nature than any entity can reliably assess or control. This puts the long-term survival of all life at risk. The scientists urged swift action be taken to curb the rising tide of chemicals and plastic, though they also acknowledged that the plastic and chemicals already out there will continue to pose risks well into the future.

plastic pellets from a beach — Plastic pellets, or nurdles, are the feedstock of plastic manufacturing. Photo by madicattt (CC BY-NC 2.0)

Those risks must be immediately mitigated, especially for communities of color worst harmed by plastics’ environmental injustices.

The core part of the answer to our plastic problem is to stop making more of it and require industries to address the mess they’ve made. We need a treaty that would hold international industries and governments accountable for ceasing plastic production. The Basel, Rotterdam and Stockholm Conventions are designed to protect human and environmental health from dangerous chemicals and wastes during production, transportation, use and disposal. These binding existing frameworks for regulating hazardous substances could be broadened and strengthened to include plastic and its petrochemical based ingredients and additives.

The Stockholm Convention is specifically designed to restrict or stop production of long-lasting “persistent” substances known to cause serious harm to humans, wildlife and ecosystems. Given this criteria, plastics would also qualify.

We also need to make sure our world works in a manner that minimizes waste and maximizes human and environmental health, in ways that are just and equitable to people and nature. UK economist Kate Raworth has proposed a donut-shaped economic model under which humanity would focus not on the usual measure of GDP but on “meeting the human rights of every person within the means of our life-giving planet.” The UN should lay out a pathway for replacing our current industrially driven exponential-growth society with restorative and regenerative local systems. Societal values that minimize waste — like sharing, reuse and repair — could be fostered through regulations, education, incentives and other behavior-changing strategies.

Plastic bag — Photo: John Platt (CC BY-NC-ND 3.0)

The biggest opponents of efforts to tightly regulate plastics, petrochemical and fossil fuel production are the industries perpetuating the problem. Industry misinformation continues to portray plastic as an important lightweight material for the “low-carbon” future that’s now necessary on our warming planet. But just as it has been doing all along, the industry is continuing to try to delay the necessary action of turning off the plastics tap once and for all. The plastic industry is on track to churn out more plastic than ever before and will only accelerate production unless we demand global negotiators take serious action to hold industries accountable now.

Ironically, in a world hyperconnected by plastics, the dire truths about this material have rapidly spread. Today, support for a global treaty on plastics has never been greater and more diverse. A significant and growing coalition — spanning businesses, communities, nonprofits, leading scientists, and many others — have recently called for an international agreement on plastics. Now such a treaty is a near-future possibility. We must ensure one is created — and that it doesn’t get watered down by industry interests as so many other plastic regulations have.

It’s critically important to use this present opportunity to officially identify the true causes of plastic pollution — industries’ continued production of plastics, petrochemical and fossil fuels. Instead of continuing to burden consumers with the tasks of cleaning up and fruitlessly recycling, as we always have, it’s time to stop plastics production at the source and change the systems that have supported its rise.

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

Previously in The Revelator:

4 Major Environmental Treaties the U.S. Never Ratified — But Should

The Surprising Biodiversity Hidden in the World’s Fragile Mangrove Forests

New research finds mangroves host thousands of unique insect species — and these trees are more vulnerable than previously understood.

Mangrove forests protect coastal ecosystems around the world from erosion and serve as habitats for an amazing array of fish, birds and other species. But because of the groves’ low levels of plant diversity, scientists have long assumed these famously twisty, salt-tolerant trees didn’t play host to many insect species.

A study published last year in the journal BMC Biology turns that assumption on its ear. Mangroves, the research reveals, are hotspots of insect biodiversity.

To reach this startling conclusion, a team of scientists from Singapore and other countries spent four years studying more than 140,000 insect specimens from 107 sites in mangroves and other habitats in Southeast and East Asia. They discovered an enormous and diverse number of insect species living in the mangroves — including more than 3,000 species in Singapore alone.

The researchers say their finding may have conservation relevance in the face of worldwide insect declines that are increasingly being called the “insect apocalypse.”

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It may also aid in the preservation and restoration of mangroves.

“We definitely hope that is the case,” says Darren Yeo, a biologist with National University of Singapore and lead author of the study. “We were able to show that even rather fragmented mangroves can house a huge amount of evolutionarily unique species and are worth protecting.”

That’s especially important considering the state of mangroves around the world.

Mangroves on the Decline

Mangroves — dozens of tropical and subtropical tree species of the Rhizophoraceae family — are distinguished by their aerial roots that emerge from brackish, estuarine shores. They serve as important nurseries for fish and shrimp species, including the threatened rainbow parrotfish and endangered goliath grouper.

They also serve people by protecting coasts from storm surges and sequestering millions of tons of carbon dioxide every year.

But despite their value, many mangrove forests have disappeared. About 35% worldwide were cut down between 1980 and 2000.

The new finding of mangrove insect diversity comes at a promising time. The rate of mangrove forest loss has slowed, and it has also been offset by significant gains from restoration and natural regeneration, according to a report published last year by the Global Mangrove Alliance.

Unique Invertebrates

Adding to the forests’ value, the researchers found that many insect species are specific to mangroves. More than half are not found in other habitats, even if normally species-rich coastal forests grow right next to the mangroves.

On top of that, the mangroves share few species among themselves. For some families of flies, 90% of species are unique to each region. Of the 74 known species of flies in the Thai mangroves, only 34 also exist in Singapore and 10 in Brunei.

The scientists say that the harsh conditions of the mangroves — extreme tides, wide variations in temperature and fluctuations in salinity — may result in physiological and behavioral adaptations that account for the unique insect community.

polistes major — Polistes major on mangrove. Photo: Bob Peterson (CC BY 2.0)

And many of those unique species remain to be identified by scientists.

During surveys for the study, Patrick Grootaert, who heads the entomology department at the Royal Belgian Institute of Natural Science, discovered two new species of fly in the mangroves of Pulau Ubin, a small, lush island that lies in the straits between Malaysia and Singapore.

One, which he called the long-legged fly, feeds on sandflies and midges. The other, the black scavenger fly, had been thought to be a previously discovered fly until further studies revealed it was a separate species. More surprisingly, entomologists recognized that it needed to be categorized into a completely new genus, as well.

The scientists were able to count the species and discover the new ones using new genetic technology. Until recently, taxonomy was a time-consuming, tedious task of viewing each collected specimen to identify and sort it according to its species. The new technology, called Next Generation Sequencing or NGS, can sequence the DNA of large numbers of specimens quickly and in a cost-effective manner.

Yeo says performing their work the old-fashioned way is theoretically possible but “would cost orders of magnitude more in funding and time.”

A Fragile Balance

Even as science begins to understand the biodiversity of mangroves, new research also shows that ecosystems may be more vulnerable than previously thought.

Another team of scientists recently looked at mangroves around the world to estimate what ecologists call ecological redundancy, or species redundancy, which quantifies how many species perform the same function in a biome — such as pollinating plants, consuming dead organisms or turning sediment by burrowing in the ground. A biome with lower redundancy has less “insurance” that its essential functions will be carried out.

By looking at mollusks, mussels and other invertebrates, the researchers — whose dataset did not include insects — found that even small mangrove patches serve as homes to quite diverse fauna. But they also found that redundancy of these invertebrates is extremely low, meaning that a disruption, even to a small extent, could have profound consequences for the rest of the mangrove ecosystem.

The team examined 16 functional traits of 364 invertebrate species. They looked at how the organisms feed, such as scavenging or feeding on fresh leaves, as well as behaviors such as digging, wood boring and burrowing. In many of the mangrove forests, only one species performed each ecological function.

The scientists say their findings may reveal mangroves to be among the most vulnerable ecosystems in the world.

Yeo, who was not affiliated with the second study, says he believes his work and that of other scientists will help further the knowledge needed for mangrove conservation and restoration efforts.

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One clue that emerges here is that plant diversity matters, too.

“For one of our sites, Pulau Semakau, we were able to show that a mangrove that was replanted with a monoculture yielded poorer insect diversity than an adjacent pristine site,” he says. “We hope that future mangrove restoration and rehabilitation efforts would also consider the original floral diversity. This should lead to the better long-term health.”

Previously in The Revelator:

Shark Quest: Are the World’s Most Endangered Rays Living in New Ireland Province, Papua New Guinea?

Protect This Place: Burley Estuary, Threatened by Industrialized Aquaculture

Acres of plastic and gear for an industrial geoduck installation jeopardize a small, fragile lagoon in the Salish Sea.

The place:

Burley Lagoon in Purdy, Washington, about 25 miles southwest of Seattle

Why it matters:

Two salmon-spawning streams run directly into the small Burley estuary. The lagoon itself is an embayment partially blocked by a sandspit; only a narrow 300-foot channel allows the water level to rise and fall with the tide. This narrow opening restricts its water exchange with the greater Puget Sound. Because open waters are partially blocked by the natural sandspit, the lagoon is a low-energy environment and serves as a refuge from incoming wave action from the larger Henderson Bay just outside.

The lagoon environment may be protected from the harsher open waters, but this leaves it with a limited flushing capacity, which is important to water quality, ecosystem functions, sedimentation, pollutant distribution and other healthy functions. Because of this, if this ecosystem is disrupted by industry, it will take longer for it to recover.

The mudflats at the bottom of the bay are exposed during low tide, providing food sources for waterfowl. The mudflats themselves would typically teem with life when they haven’t been scraped bare and netted over by industry. As the tide rises, they can provide feeding grounds for fish and marine mammals like seals, otter, and sometimes even orca or gray whales. Eelgrass and other salt-tolerant nearshore vegetation grows on the edges of the mudflats. Shellfish naturally grow on the rocky shoreline.

This combination of characteristics creates an ecosystem that sustains flora and fauna adapted for these unique living conditions. Restoration of salmon runs is paramount in the Puget Sound, including the runs in Burley Lagoon that are the lifeblood of Southern Resident killer whales (orcas), whose population is already dwindling. This special estuary is considered a nursery of sorts for forage fish that provide sustenance for salmon, which in turn feed the orcas.

The threat:

A large industrial aquaculture company already has a presence in the lagoon. But it currently has its sights set on a cash crop that will fetch a high price on foreign markets: geoducks — a giant saltwater clam valued as a delicacy in Asia.

Geoduck site in Puget Sound. Photo: Wendy Ferrell (used with permission)

Even now, the Burley estuary has large areas of tideland covered in plastic predator-exclusion nets to protect industrial oyster and clam beds from aquatic animals and birds considered “pests” by the industry. Visitors to the lagoon are already troubled by the loss of natural habitat and feeding grounds for aquatic animals, plants and waterfowl that call Burley Lagoon and Puget Sound home.

Now the industry has proposed installing a 25.5-acre geoduck site in the Burley Lagoon. This would bring even more plastic gear and nets. If the permit is given the green light, cumulative impacts of industrial aquaculture practices could threaten the estuary’s ecosystem and continue to interfere with the natural food web of Puget Sound. A 25.5-acre industrial geoduck installation means millions of PVC pipes pounded directly into the substrate and covered by large predator nets. The disruption to the entire ecosystem and the natural processes of the estuary threatens to be severe, potentially damaging the restoration efforts of critical species like salmon and orcas.

Geoduck PVC pipes in Puget Sound. Photo: Wendy Ferrell (used with permission)

My place in this place:

As a fifth-generation resident on the Salish Sea, and on Burley Lagoon in particular, the estuary, full of life, has been my neighbor and my friend. I’ve watched the tiny crabs and shrimp scurrying in the tidepools, the small forage fish darting in the shallows, the loyal salmon returning to spawn, and the playful seals and sometimes whales visiting to feed. The ecosystem was always alive and vibrant before aquaculture became modern and took over with acres of plastic and gear.

Now, in Burley Lagoon, I see plastic predator-exclusion nets spread out on the tidelands for commercial shellfish aquaculture operations. This is what greets the spawning salmon returning to Purdy and Burley Creeks after their time in the open sea. Should we further disrupt their runs and their ecosystem by adding millions of PVC pipes to their feeding ground? Will the ecosystem of the bay be able to withstand this loss of diversity of species? Will the dollar signs of this geoduck cash crop be too tempting to pass up?

How will our fragile lagoon that is already stretched to its tipping point withstand another onslaught of industrialized gear and methods with a potential geoduck farm?

Who’s protecting it now:

Many hardworking families, some who have lived here for multiple generations, have watched the increasing and shocking industrialization of the lagoon and the loss of myriad sea creatures who used thrive in local tidepools. These neighbors and friends have rallied together in a grassroots effort to bring awareness to the current and future threats to this unique body of water.

What this place needs:

Burley Lagoon needs scientists and activists who care about the food web of the Salish Sea to stand with us against industrial aquaculture and its big pocketbooks.

Follow the fight:

www.friendsofburleylagoon.org

Previously in The Revelator:

5 Reasons to Rethink the Future of Dams

7 Exciting Ways Researchers Study Elusive and Endangered Wildlife

New and developing technologies are helping to push conservation efforts at a critical time.

Each fall thousands of pronghorns migrate 150 miles between their summer grounds in Grand Teton National Park and their winter habitat in Wyoming’s Green River Valley. It’s a journey complicated by fences, roads and other development. Conserving this antelope-like species means identifying these threats — not an easy task for such a wide-ranging mammal.

But after outfitting the animals with GPS tracking collars, researchers were able to identify the pronghorns’ routes and areas of potential problems. It turned out that a critical piece of their pathway was slated for development, which would have made their journey even more difficult and dangerous.

The tracking data helped rally conservation support to cancel the development and led to the establishment of the country’s first protected wildlife corridor.

Roaming ungulates aren’t the only beneficiaries of the technology. Since the mid-1990s, GPS collars — and now smaller GPS satellite tags — have been used to map the journeys of migrating birds, well-traveled sea turtles and countless other animals.

But when it comes to boosting conservation work, it’s not the only tool in the toolbox. A bevy of new and evolving technologies and techniques are helping researchers better study animals that are few in number, far-ranging or hard to find. And that can lead to more protections for imperiled wildlife and the habitat they need to survive. The research comes at a critical time as we face accelerating extinction rates across the world.

Here are some tools helping to gather information and inform policy:

1. Smile, You’re on Camera

Wolverines are so elusive that for decades scientists didn’t know much about them. That’s changing now with help from new technologies, including motion-triggered remote cameras, relatively cheap and noninvasive devices also known as “camera traps.”

“Camera traps have completely revolutionized how we study wolverines because they’re [our] eyes out in the landscape over huge areas,” says Jason Fisher, a wildlife ecologist at the University of Victoria. “Instead of putting a collar on a small handful of wolverines, you can now monitor an entire population — and you can do that continuously for as long as you want to.”

Camera traps can be paired with passive infrared sensors, which trigger the cameras when they detect an animal’s body heat.

And if positioned correctly, the photos can help identify individual animals that have distinctive markings.

Wolverines, like American martens and Asian black bears, often have unique fur patterns on their chests or throats that aren’t visible when they’re walking on all fours, so scientists sometimes suspend bait in front of camera traps to encourage animals to stand and expose those unique ventral markings.

wolverine facing camera — A adult female wolverine stands at a camera station in Mt. Rainier National Park. Photo: NPS/Cascades Carnivore Project

Tigers and jaguars often need cameras on both sides to capture distinctive flank markings. Others, like bottlenose dolphins or African lions, are identified best through facial markings.

Camera traps can also help even when they don’t get images of the animals being studied.

“We put them in places where we think wolverines are and where we think wolverines aren’t because getting those absences are just important,” says Fisher. “If we think they should be using a piece of landscape, but they’re not, we need to know that so we can figure out why — is it human pressure from recreation or landscape development or climate change?”

2. Listen Up

Researchers don’t always need to see an animal to know it’s there. Acoustic recorders can help capture birdsong and can be combined with automated species identification programs like Cornell University’s BirdNET to assess bird populations.

Much like camera traps, these systems allow recordings to be collected 24 hours a day and without any noticeable human intrusion.

“These low-cost and automated tools may greatly improve efforts to survey bird communities and their ecosystems, and consequently, efforts to conserve threatened indigenous biodiversity,” researchers from the California Department of Fish and Wildlife wrote in a 2021 study.

Surveys and song meter recordings conducted at Mt Haupu, Kauai, by @NTBG and Archipelago Research and Conservation found new evidence of an endangered seabird ‘A’o (Newell’s Shearwater) colony adding to the importance of this unique site! pic.twitter.com/v01GiluYfK

— Nina Rønsted (@NinaRonsted) February 4, 2022

In Australia researchers enlisted the help of landowners to attach recorders to trees on their property. But the scientists were interested in capturing koala bellows, and not birdsong, to determine which areas had the most suitable koala habitat in private forests, where survey work is often limited. The research may help the species, which Australia declared endangered in February due to habitat loss, disease and other threats.

3. Tag, You’re It

Passive Integrated Transponder (PIT) tags have been around for decades, but they’re still incredibly useful to researchers — especially those who track fish that are often out of sight.

The devices, which don’t require batteries, function like microchips used to identify pets. A tiny radio transponder with a unique code is housed in a glass cylinder, then affixed or injected into an animal.

Syringe injecting tag into fish — Injecting a PIT tag into a yearling pallid sturgeon at Gavins Point National Fish Hatchery. Photo: Sam Stukel/USFWS

They’ve helped scientists understand the life cycles, predation, habitat and movement of not just fish but creatures like snakes and turtles. And because some PIT tags can be as small as a grain of rice, they’ve also been used to keep track of freshwater mussels, which are among North America’s most imperiled species.

“We take a microchip and we glue it on the shell of the mussel and we have a [transponder] wand that can go underwater and we can find that mussel without having to dig for it,” says Matt Ashton, an aquatic biologist at Maryland’s Department of Natural Resources who was involved in research assessing an effort to restart populations of eastern elliptio mussels in Maryland’s Patapsco River.

4. Snagged

If you want to study a grizzly bear, it might be easier — and less invasive — to just snag a piece of its fur than capture the whole animal. So-called “hair traps” or “hair snares” can take different forms, but often involve using a scent to lure the animal to barbed wire that will harmlessly grab a tuft of fur, but not restrain the animal. Researchers then use the DNA in the hair follicle to get biological information.

Since the 1990s the practice has grown in popularity and has been used for a wide variety of animals, especially elusive carnivores — including wolverines.

“DNA from hair samples has gone a long way to helping us understand how wolverines use landscapes and for documenting population size, because you can identify those right down individuals,” says Fisher.

5. DNA at Large

In more recent years, collecting DNA from animals has evolved. Scientists can now collect genetic material shed from plants and animals in the water, soil or air — known as environmental DNA or eDNA.

Although the technology still has much room for improvement, it’s already proving useful in aquatic ecosystems, where it’s been used to look for the presence of invasive carp. It’s also being used to assess whether threatened or endangered species are in an ecosystem.

Recently researchers in Brazil using eDNA detected the presence of a frog, Megaelosia bocainensis, not seen since 1968.

“For conservation it’s really helpful, because by using environmental DNA you don’t need to directly see the species and it’s not an invasive process — you don’t need to manipulate the animal and you don’t need to disturb the environment — and it’s cheap,” Carla Martins Lopes, a scientist involved in the Brazil discovery, told Mongabay.

There have also been recent breakthroughs with airborne DNA. Two recent studies showed that researchers could detect and identify dozens of species in a zoo through eDNA collected from the air.

And the work is spilling over to plants, too. In another effort, scientists analyzed eDNA from dust traps which collect pollen and other airborne molecules. “The team found several species of grass, fungi, and even an invasive species called tree of heaven (Ailanthus altissima) that had all been overlooked by more conventional surveys,” The Scientist reported.

6. Going Global

The more tools researchers have to collect information, the more data they have. Generating more data is good, but being able to share, access and analyze data from other researchers all over the world is even better.

A new study looked at a global data set with information from 8,671 camera traps on four continents and found that there was more mammal diversity in protected areas than other wilderness areas that lacked protections.

It’s the kind of research that could help drive big policy decisions.

“Under the Convention on Biological Diversity, the world is currently discussing new targets for how much of the earth’s surface should be covered by parks,” Cole Burton, a conservation biologist and study coauthor told Science Daily. “We need to have better information to inform these policy discussions. Hopefully this study helps fill the gaps in our knowledge.”

More tools are also being developed to help on this front, too.

One is Movebank, a free online database hosted by the Max Planck Institute of Animal Behavior, which lets researchers upload animal tracking data that can be shared or privately held. It gets about 3 million new data points each day.

There’s also a corresponding app, Animal Tracker, which allows researchers to connect with citizen scientists who can help with tracking, including locating a tagged animal that’s gone down.

7. Nose for Conservation

Found — Humans investigate a Rogue’s find. Photo: Deanna Williams/U.S. Forest Service

Not every conservation tool these days is high tech — sometimes you just need a really good nose.

Specially trained conservation detection dogs sniff out information that will protect endangered species and aid scientific research.

For Eba, that’s putting her nose to work on the Salish Sea, helping researchers find scat from endangered Southern Resident killer whales, which can reveal a lot about the orca’s health and habits.

For Filson, trained by Rogue Detection Teams, that’s helping to find endangered Franklin’s bumblebees or Sierra Nevada red foxes.

“I think we can all agree that dogs can find the scat of myriad species in the wild,” Jennifer Hartman, Filson’s handler and a field scientist from Rogue Detection Teams, told The Revelator. “But when you start to think about caterpillars, or viruses on plants, or invasive species at different stages in their life cycle, that’s when you really start to see the power of the nose at work.”

Of course no single tool — be it high- or low-tech — can save an endangered species by itself, but the more information we have the more we can protect. And with each technological development, the conservation picture from that information — and the processes to understand it — gets a little bit sharper.

Previously in The Revelator:

A Nose for Science: Conservation Dogs May Help in Search for Endangered Franklin’s Bumblebee

The Boreal Forests Have a Warning for Us

Treeline, a new book by Ben Rawlence, explains how climate change is causing far-reaching shifts in one of our most important ecosystems.

British journalist Ben Rawlence knows a lot about how people cope with extreme situations. His first book, Radio Congo, chronicled Africa’s deadliest war. And his second, City of Thorns, detailed life in Kenya in the world’s largest refugee camp.

“Both of those describe extreme situations in conflict zones, but those lessons are absolutely relevant to humans everywhere,” he tells The Revelator.

His latest project took Rawlence to a vastly different landscape — the Arctic Circle — but also to the front lines of another global crisis.

“I was interested in trying to tell a story about climate change where it’s already history — where we can already look at what’s happened in the past,” he says. He realized that trees at the edge of the Arctic, where boreal forest meets tundra, have been responding to our changing climate for decades. And those changes sound a warning for the rest of the planet.

“The migration of the treeline north is no longer a matter of inches per century; instead it is hundreds of feet every year,” he writes in The Treeline: The Last Forest and the Future of Life on Earth. “The trees are on the move. They shouldn’t be. And this sinister fact has enormous consequences for all life on Earth.”

In The Treeline Rawlence tells a complex ecological story by focusing on changes affecting seven tree species in seven different boreal ecotones — Scots pine in Scotland, birch in Norway, larch in Russia, spruce in Alaska, poplar in Canada and rowan in Greenland.

The book takes him to remote places, where he interviews Indigenous people, scientists and others with a front-row view of the unfolding climate crisis.

The Revelator spoke with Rawlence about what these changes mean for forests, the Arctic and the rest of us.

This book was an enormous journalistic endeavor. What did you learn?

I think the first thing is that nature is really complex. It’s the butterfly effect, where tiny things can have huge consequences. The fact that beavers were protected in the United States in the 1920s means that large numbers of them in Alaska are now transforming the Arctic ecosystem there. Whereas in Siberia, that’s not happening because there’s no beavers.

The second thing is because it’s so complex, you cannot make adequate judgments about the carbon sequestration potential of ecosystems and species. So “net zero” is nonsense — dangerous nonsense. It’s false accounting.

Ben Rawlence. Photo: Jonny Donovan

It’s going to lead to all kinds of problems, because you might say a spruce tree today is capable of sequestering 30 tons of carbon dioxide over the course of its life. But that’s based on the climate as it is now. In five years’ time, that spruce tree is tinder and it’s actually adding to global warming.

How does this concept of “trees on the move” affect permafrost in the Arctic, which has a vital role in sequestering carbon?

Most people might think more trees are good, right? But actually more trees in the Arctic is a source of real concern. More trees means roots into the soil. They trap more snow, which insulates the ground, which promotes more microbial activity and more melting of the permafrost.

That then releases loads of carbon dioxide, loads of methane, and completely destabilizes the tundra ecosystem, which has been stable up to this point.

The idea of “trees on the move” is actually contributing to the “great thaw.” I think that’s a phrase that we’re going to become more and more familiar with. [The melting of the permafrost] is a very serious prospect in terms of the billions of tons of methane being released.

At the end of the prologue you write that, “The last forest will be boreal. When humans are only fossils, it is these hardy northern species that will still be standing tall.” Why are boreal forests so important and what makes them endure?

[Boreal tree] species have evolved in dialogue with the ice to travel over enormous latitudes. So you can have spruce trees somewhere near the Tropic of Cancer, and you have them right up at the Arctic Circle. The same with larch and birch. They have a very, very wide niche and that niche is what makes them supremely adaptable, and that means that they’re likely going to be among the species that remain.

That’s why the boreal forest is important in the long history of the planet: Because they’re going to be key players in what comes next.

But the boreal forest is important now because of all the enormous geophysical functions that it performs.

It has one-third of all the trees on Earth. It produces way more oxygen than the rainforests. It has historically moved on the heels of the ice and formed the organic crust of the northern hemisphere, which allows us to live and get food and so on. It creates its own rain. We now know trees fire aerosols into the air, which bond with water vapor, condensing them into water, which makes them heavier so they fall as rain. It then regulates that rain in the soil, and filters and discharges it into the oceans, which has a key relationship with sea ice and salinity.

As [the boreal forest] heats up, all of those functions are disrupted.

One of the points your book makes is that it’s not just natural systems that are at risk, but languages and cultures, too. You went to great lengths to interview many Indigenous people living in remote areas. What did you learn?

I’m a great believer in Gaia — that humans are part of nature. They are a key component of any ecosystem. What I’ve learned from the journey was that humans are keystone species in these places. Even just a small activity, like protecting beavers, has had enormous impacts in how warming is now unfolding in Alaska. The same is true in Siberia where humans eliminated all the megafauna and now the taiga forest is on the site of what used to be savannah, and the larch trees have become a weed.

So humans are a keystone species — it’s really important to understand that role in ecosystem processes.

But also of course we are human. And we need windows on how to look at forests, how to understand what’s happening. And [Indigenous peoples] are the repositories of the knowledge that we need to survive in the future, because if we learn anything from looking at the warming that’s coming down the pipe, we need to be re-entangled with ecosystems. We need to pay attention to ecosystems.

If pollinators don’t work, if species are moving, if the soil is no longer fertile, we have to really pay attention and understand nature in ways that we’ve forgotten. And we will starve if we don’t get that right.

And that way of looking and way of being is still in existence — although it’s under assault — in those Indigenous communities, and by and large communities who live in forests, whether in the tropics or in the temperate zones or up in the boreal.

So I was very keen to talk to those people where I could find them and benefit from their insights and just give a little bit of a sense of what I think we need to be thinking about it.

After years of doing this research and writing the book, how do you feel about our prospects and what we should do next?

I’ve been a bit frustrated with this sort of simplistic analysis, one of which is that it’s all going to be OK if we do X, Y and Z. And the other is that there’s nothing we can do and it’s going to be awful.

What I tried to present was what I think is a more realistic prospect, which is that human life isn’t going to end immediately, but it’s definitely not going to be OK. And that definitely can’t be avoided. So we need to actually rigorously engage with the prospect. We need to think deeply about what it means. And we need to be proactive and do stuff.

We know largely what we must do. The question is how do we act and implement that in our own life? And how do we play a role in forcing change among recalcitrant corporations and governments who aren’t playing ball?

That’s why I’ve founded Black Mountains College, a new liberal arts school [in Wales], in direct response to the climate and ecological emergency.

It’s focused on preparing people for new ways of looking, thinking and working. That means practical skills that we’re going to need when the climate impacts hit — short supply chains, changes to crops, shortages of water and so on. We are focusing in the first instance on regenerative horticulture and sustainable forestry. And we’re looking at adding renewable energy, conservation farming, agroecology and other things like that.

It’s also looking at the emotional, political and social transformations that need to happen. So back to the point about Indigenous ways of being and seeing, trying to bring that into the conversation, trying to find ways to offer people opportunities to transform their own lives.

We want this to be an example of the kind of education that we think everybody needs. I’m hoping it’s the kind of education that my kids can do so they can get ready and can have a meaningful life in what will be a rapidly changing, much-depleted planet.

For me, [starting this college] was about finding a sense of purpose and a mission, rather than the kind of doom and gloom prospect for the world. Of course it’s sad, we have to grieve for the species that we’re losing. But we haven’t got time to be too self-indulgent about that. We’ve actually got a lot of work to do.

Previously in The Revelator:

Move or Change: How Plants and Animals Are Trying to Survive a Warming World

Vanishing: In Love With the Blue Oaks

California’s stressed blue oak woodlands abound with beauty and teem with uncertainty.

What happens to us as the wild world unravels? Vanishing, an occasional essay series, explores some of the human stakes of the wildlife extinction crisis.

At an early age I went into the blue oak forest, fell under an enchantment and never left.

These remarkable woodlands on the flanks of Mount Diablo, in Northern California’s Contra Costa County, hold sway over my daily activities to this day. More than a second home, this place is a spiritual center for me, a land where the infinite and the intimate connect — and where I have been spoiled for any other.

I can never forget the first time I was stopped dead with aesthetic arrest, a pre-adolescent boy, hardly able to breathe in the face of the sublime beauty of this humble place. The epiphany from that first visit informed what was to become my life’s work as a naturalist and writer. It was not stirred by some epic vista like the Grand Canyon or under some enormous conifer in the Sierra Nevada but in a quiet grove of blue oaks at sunrise in the California spring.

It was probably a Tuesday. I remember the blinking blue eyes on the small wings of the buckeye butterflies (Junonia coenia) as they leapt up from under the knee-high grass at my approach. I remember the kaleidoscope of the orange monkey-flower (Diplacus aurantiacus), the golden violets (Viola pedunculata) and the purple of the black sage blossoms (Salvia mellifera) all reaching to the first rays of the morning’s red light. I remember the racket of so many songbirds, the nuthatches, titmice, wrens, kinglets, warblers, sparrows and others who could not be individually distinguished over the din. I remember dozens of bee species, some small, green and metallic (Agapostemon texanus) and some big, fuzzy and slow (Bombus californicus). I remember tarantulas, salamanders, the heady smell of mushrooms everywhere.

And the blue oak itself? It’s a modest if unruly deciduous tree that’s squat compared to the trees with which it often shares its woodlands, the sprawling valley oaks and the evergreen live oaks. It goes dormant in the rainy season after producing its crop of acorns, only to unfurl fresh, blue-green leaves in early spring that contrast the gray, often gnarled, furrowed bark of the trunk.

I emerged that day with the feeling that I had visited a secret world right in my backyard, a vibrant universe that had gathered around the offerings of the precious, arboreal habitat of the blue oak.

It wasn’t until a little later in life that I learned the names and details of those inhabitants, but I understand now that there was an unsettling paradox here: This ecosystem had long been well-equipped to weather natural, endemic disturbances but was now fragile to the onset of modernized, anthropogenic pressures.

This endemic woodland evolved to survive historic climate conditions that brought periodic fires, drought and insect outbreaks. But now that conditions are changing so rapidly the blue oaks (Quercus douglasii), a keystone species that can live as long as 700 years, are having a hard time keeping up.

The blue oak, you see, only thrives inside of a complex array of delicate, environmental conditions. Disrupt the finely tuned calibration of those conditions – foul the air, alter fire regimes, drain the soil of its richness — and the blue oak system begins to fray along with the thousands of species that rely on it.

A 2016 U.S. Geological Survey study found that in the past 30 years more than 40% (over 500 square miles) of blue oak woodland was lost or degraded due to drought, fire and development. Today the distribution of the moderately sized blue oak is confined to a nearly continuous ring around California’s Central Valley. The Goldilocks zone for this endemic tree, between the valley grasslands and the montane forests, can range from sea level up to 6,000 feet. Depending on soil composition, latitude and slope orientation, the oldest and biggest trees are generally found between 2,000 and 3,000 feet. These drought-resistant and fire adapted trees thrive in shallow and rocky soils and generally avoid the rich and loamy soils of the valley floor favored by their bigger cousins, the valley oak (Quercus lobata).

But therein lies an important conservation dilemma: These are old trees, and this is an aging habitat type that is not progenerating nearly as robustly as it once did. This sad state of affairs is not primarily because of habitat loss or even climate breakdown due to global warming, but mainly because of the effects of cattle grazing and invasive grasses. The Eurasian grasses that have steadily expelled the native grasses of California over the past several centuries tend to have much shallower roots than their endemic counterparts. Because of this, the grass competes with blue oak saplings for nutrients, including water, and blue oak seed recruitment continues to decline. With the added stress of more fire and increased drought, the result is that fewer and fewer young blue oaks ever make it to adulthood, raising doubts about the future of the species.

Internationally, the blue oak species has yet to be designated as being at serious risk, but the ecosystem it supports and the habitat systems it provides are so valuable that the diminution of the tree’s range and population need to be taken seriously. Researchers are now focused on identifying and prioritizing threatened areas of blue oak woodland and engaging strategies to restore woodland that has been lost despite growing aridity and air temperature and an increasingly severe fire regime.

Blue oak has two good things going for it: Because the conditions it enjoys are generally unfavorable for agriculture, blue oak woodland is most typically utilized as rangeland. And because it is not good timber wood, old-growth blue oak habitat might be the most-common ancient woodland type left in the California. By studying the stress preventing blue oak recruitment, designating the habitat-type as threatened, and understanding why and where the habitat still exists in its pristine state, we have an opportunity to prevent the vanishing of this precious ecosystem.

And, importantly, by preventing the collapse of the blue oak woodland, the regeneration of so much biodiversity across California’s interior valleys remains not only possible, but probable.

So many decades after that first vision of beauty hit me out of a clear blue sky, I still live next to that radiant woodland, and I go every day to talk to my more-than-human friends and to listen to what they might have to say. In the protected lands of Mount Diablo State Park, I have noticed some seasonal diminishment of certain populations of flora and fauna due to 20 years of increasing aridity and prolonged drought, but this place is not subject to so many of the ravages that most blue oaks face elsewhere.

What I do find there, still in great abundance, is my own wonder at its staggering beauty. That connection that I feel with this living system offers a shield against so much despair and anxiety that so easily takes hold in this unfolding world. The enchantment inspires the protective impulse. I maintain the number one thing that the public can do to help in the conservation of this, or any other endangered ecosystem is to go there, to feel its beauty, to take it in to you and to let yourself fall in love.

Explore the rest of the Vanishing series.

Previously in The Revelator:

Naturalist Obi Kaufmann on the Power of Forests: ‘Be Ready to Change the Story’

The Earth Reviews Her Activists

“We need to make the time to water a new kind of wild empathy,” writes the cofounder of the Church of Stop Shopping.

EDITORS’ NOTE: Around the world in recent months, committed activists have stepped up protests and direct action to demand progress on climate change, environmental justice and the extinction crisis. Among them are the Church of Stop Shopping, an activist choir group from New York City that visited last year’s United Nations COP26 climate conference in Glasgow, Scotland, to sing, protest and make good trouble. Their enigmatic front man, the “firenado and brimstone” preacher Rev. Billy Talen, provides this account/sermon of inspiration from the event.

This outrageous apocalypse! These multiplying disasters! Can’t we find where these cataclysms are coming from? Why don’t we go to the source and make adjustments?

But what is that source? The people who want to explain the whys and wherefores of plagues, river-leaping fires, 200 mph winds and mass disappearance of species have split into two powerful camps: religion and science. The church people say that “God did it.” And the natural scientists point to a “dynamic, living system” or a “self-regulating organism.”

The trouble with these mystifications is that they leave us at a vague middle distance from the Earth. Neither the religious nor scientific explanation feels truthful. Or maybe a better way to put it is, they aren’t intimate. They distance us from the Earth. These institutions insist on mediating our personal relationship to this place where we live. Our activism for the Earth becomes harder to make powerful.

The author Rev. Billy Talen is the pink preacher here performing with the Stop Shopping Choir in New York.

Once we’re at that big remove from the touch, smell, dazzling sight, heady weirdness and fantastic life of the Earth, our activism loses its traction. We’re trying to “save the Earth” by way of politics, ideology, scary data or old morals. We’re trying to be good environmentalists, and that is turning out to be … not nearly enough.

Is the fire and flood getting worse because we’re not doing enough? As the Sixth Extinction heats up, it would seem that the Earth is highly critical of the human species. And so the Earth is doing what she has always done — inventively evolving life to escape a dead planet.

By now you, dear reader, have noticed that I allow the Earth conscious intent. Some may accuse me of being religious, giving the Earth the role God once had. Others would say I’m a member of the new wave of scientists who argue that consciousness is a material, the mortar of all things in the universe. I’m just a desperate activist.

I noticed in Glasgow in November that of all the scores of environmentalist types — from the United Nations diplomats to Extinction Rebellion to Scottish birdwatchers — the most ardent and hard-hitting activists were Indigenous mothers. They were the ones who talked about the Earth as if she was a noble friend who had been wronged. And they could pray to the Earth and sing to the Earth in the middle of a transfixing harangue. And they led the walkout by “civil society” from the COP26 negotiations, leaving the billionaire oil men and their bankers playing poker at their table.

That familiarity with the Earth needs to be a part of all our activists’ emotional lives. For instance, when we are out in the wilds, we should be aware of the mass movement of all life in this warming. We should know that we must migrate, too, and be a part of this extinction. The practice of defending the Earth in this time of the Sixth Extinction calls upon us to grow an empathy for the Earth that may feel intensely strange.

We need to make the time to water a new kind of wild empathy.

Our old nature culture needs new nakedness. We won’t be able to wall off the Earth with “recreation,” “nature photography” or “donating to the Sierra Club.” We need to walk those jagged miles to a wild place, a forest, a wetland, a coral reef, an alpine meadow … go there and whisper to the Earth a sweet nothing.

Give in. Abandon politics. Abandon religion and science. Abandon ideology. Find that intimacy. Start the whole Earth relationship over.

Walk straight into the nearest forest — or park if that’s all you’ve got access to — and stay there until the breakthrough happens. Give the Earth a name and have a conversation. Stop calling the natural world a “creation” or a “system” and talk to her and listen.

If our conscious life exchanges signals with Earth’s conscious life, there is a better chance we can evolve our activism. What kind of zealotry is the Earth calling for? Our answer is in the eye-wall wind of a great storm.

Hear that? “Go to the violence and end it,” the Earth tells us. “Now 50,000 of you walk to a pipeline and dismantle it with your hands.”

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

Previously in The Revelator:

We Need Bold Protests, Says ‘Stop Shopping’ Activist Rev. Billy Talen