Rage Against the Anthropocene: The Extinction Crisis Gets an ‘Eco-slam’ Soundtrack

A Swedish death-metal album mourns species we’ve recently lost — and reminds us that we can all stand up against extinction.

Raging, guttural vocals. Pounding snare drums. Blazing-fast guitar riffs.

For Swedish death-metal musician Peter Hauschulz, these are the sounds and emotions of the extinction crisis.

SmolderingEnfoulmentHauschulz’s new solo grindcore project, Extinction, has just released an eight-track EP called “Smoldering Enfoulment.” The “eco-slam” songs tell the tales of recently extinct (or nearly extinct) species, such as the cryptic tree-hunter and the Miss Waldron’s red colobus.

Most of the songs, Hauschulz says, were inspired by articles published here at The Revelator.

The album was released July 21 on Bandcamp and is now available for download, with proceeds supporting several environmental organizations and social-justice causes. Physical copies are being distributed on old-school audio cassette — recorded over tapes found in thrift stores.

That recycling approach is echoed in the band T-shirts and other merch — and even in the music itself. The album was mostly recorded in an aluminum storage space about 30 feet away from a local recycling dump. Hauschulz played all the instruments and sang the main vocals, then mixed in guest vocals from performers based in Poland, the Czech Republic and Portland, Oregon.

We spoke with Hauschulz about Extinction (and extinction), and you can preview several songs below:

First up, what’s an “eco-slam”? And why death metal for such an already dark topic?

I’ve always been fascinated with the juxtaposition of extremes in death metal, which often takes lyrical concepts to an absurd degree of foreboding exaggeration, while the music itself is equally eager to achieve a kind of rhythmically visceral and disturbing impact. There’s a sub-genre of death metal called “slam,” which is often some of the most ridiculous and lowbrow of the style and is an excellent opportunity to combine Neanderthal-esque delivery with relevant factual concepts and content. The idea is to subvert the extreme metal expectation that the topics must necessarily be comically grotesque and therefore easy to brush off as gory escapism, while also adhering to the underlying spirit of death metal in plainly confronting the horrors of reality.

What were the origins of this project?

The idea for the project first took hold after I had read a National Geographic article sometime shortly after New Year in 2019. It was a small, touching story about how a tree snail (George) had been declared extinct just a few days earlier. Something about it just struck an unexpected nerve. I hadn’t really considered how many known species were going extinct every day.

Peter Hauschulz
Peter Hauschulz, photo by Smilla West.

It was a perfect fusion of a genuinely dark topic that really wasn’t being processed, either in the extreme metal community or at large, and therefore a ripe topic for deeper exploration.

(George’s story was one of two songs on an Extinction demo album called “Anthropogenic Degradation of Ecosystemic Vegetation,” released last year.)

For me, art and music are at their best when they seek to entertain, inform, inspire and connect with the listener. I felt that there was an opportunity to artistically energize the topic by connecting it to charity causes as well. It’s very easy to become discouraged or feel like one isn’t “doing enough” for the world, so I’m hoping to support the idea that we can all contribute in different ways according to our own needs and values and abilities, and not be held to an arbitrary standard of perfection that may be more discouraging than anything.

A few dollars here and there may not seem to be much, but it’s important for me to try to align aspirations and ideas with actions. I hope that doing so artistically may inspire others to find clever ways to bring their unique talents and ideas to the world.

What are your creative goals when developing music and lyrics about such a difficult subject, and what do you hope your listeners will get out of it?

My main goal with the project is to develop and foster connection between myself and the world, myself and other people, and hopefully inspire people’s connection with their world, too.

Of course, encased in that is my own impulse to continuously challenge myself and hone my craft, so I hope listeners experience a feeling of deep urgency as a result of the music, but also a sense of inspiration to harness that feeling for something positive.

What’s your writing process?

The process often involves a lot of iteration, bouncing from concept to experimentation on guitar or drums and back again, until it seems like it’s congealing into something unique and alive. My primary musical focus is on the rhythms first, since I’ve always loved the way that aspect of music can reach deep into the core of a body and electrify it and give it motion.

I try to set the lyrics together in such a way that they amplify the music and give it a conceptual direction for that movement. For instance, the lines “flames of greed lick their black boots, inferno of corruption boils the frog, our spirit croaking for release, from the hell of our own kind” in the song “Electile Dysfunction” are some of my favorites in capturing the wretched spirit of greed behind so much of our planetary destitution.

Why did you pick some of these species to profile? What drew you to the need to tell their stories in musical form?

I tried to represent a wide variety of species types, including those outside the more relatable ones that are cute or fuzzy, because things like mosses and trees are certainly just as important, but less often make it into headlines or story form. I also tried to focus on species whose extinction was more or less directly caused by human activity, whether by direct hunting or deforestation — something that highlights our essential relationship and the negative consequences of our actions and choices as a species on the planet.

You have a unique approach to merchandise and the physical distribution of your music. Where did the idea of recycled goods come from?

Growing up in largely DIY punk scenes, it was common for smaller bands to screen print logos on thrift-store shirts. That seemed to be the most appropriate way to minimize the band’s resource footprint while also opening the door to unique artistic opportunities. So far, the best result is when I can find an old novelty shirt from a vacation at Sea World or some other aquarium. Stamp a giant Extinction logo on top of a frolicking dolphin or killer whale and now it has become more than just a gift-store item.

What comes next? I know you already have a follow-up album in the works, and you were planning on touring before the pandemic hit.

Next for Extinction is a bit up in the air, like for many bands and people of all inclinations all over the world. I’ll be creating a music video in the coming months for one of these songs, continue writing a follow-up, which will be water-species themed, probably release a charity compilation single in a few months, and seek out like-minded collaborators of all types to start collecting a live lineup.

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Oil and Gas in Flux: After a Series of Stunning Defeats, What’s Next for the Industry?

Environmental, economic and political forces have converged, threatening to finally upend fossil fuel dominance.

When Dominion Energy and Duke Energy unexpectedly cancelled plans to build the Atlantic Coast Pipeline on July 5, environmental advocates throughout the Southeast cheered.

But even a few days later, Mark Sabath, senior attorney at the Southern Environmental Law Center, still seemed a bit shocked by the victory. His organization worked for six years to stop the 600-mile-long pipeline, which would have transported fracked gas through West Virginia, Virginia and North Carolina.

“We were surprised in terms of it happening when it did,” he says of the companies’ decision. “But it was certainly something we were thinking for a long time should happen.”

Of course, should and would are often a world apart. In fact, just a few weeks earlier, the energy companies had won a substantial victory when the Supreme Court ruled that their pipeline could cross the Appalachian Trail.

So when the word came down that Dominion and Duke were throwing in the towel, it caught a lot of people off guard. And it wasn’t unique — the announcement came along with a wave of other bad news for the oil and gas industry, including bankruptcies and more stalled pipeline efforts.

In his weekly column for The New Yorker, Bill McKibben summed it all up: “It’s been a truly awful few days for the fossil-fuel industry, which is another way of saying that it’s been an unexpectedly good few days for planet Earth.”

Indeed, at quick glance, the industry looks like it’s on the ropes, but what does it all mean in the big picture? Here are some takeaways.

Cutting Corners Backfires

In a statement on the cancellation of the Atlantic Coast Pipeline, which had ballooned in cost from an estimated $5 billion to $8 billion, the developers blamed “the increasing legal uncertainty that overhangs large-scale energy and industrial infrastructure development in the United States.”

But there’s much more to the story than that. One of the biggest factors, Sabath says, is that the developers — and their government boosters — didn’t follow the rules.

“Cutting corners — and pressuring the agencies to cut corners with their environmental reviews — certainly slowed things down and made it more difficult to finish the project,” he says.

Lorne Stockman, senior research analyst at Oil Change International, an anti-fossil-fuel advocacy group, explained in a blog post that federal agencies rubber-stamped eight permits without proper review.

“But none of these could stand up to scrutiny when challenged in a court of law, and all were eventually revoked or suspended,” wrote Stockman. “The fact that [the Atlantic Coast Pipeline] can’t be built without violating the Endangered Species Act, the Clean Water Act or the National Environmental Protection Act should be an important and concerning lesson.”

This short-circuiting of environmental review is a common thread Sabath sees in two other pipeline decisions that came just a day after the Atlantic Coast announcement.

On July 6 the Supreme Court nixed an attempt by the Trump administration to jumpstart construction on the Keystone XL pipeline — stymied for a decade — that would carry 830,000 barrels of oil sands from Alberta, Canada to Nebraska. The effort had been halted, pending further environmental review, because the Army Corps of Engineers didn’t properly study how endangered species in rivers would be affected by pipeline crossings.

And that same day a U.S District judge ruled that the already-pumping Dakota Access pipeline, long opposed by the Standing Rock Sioux, needed to halt operations until the Trump administration properly conducted the review required by the National Environmental Policy Act.

“We certainly saw with the Atlantic Coast Pipeline there was evidence that political higher-ups, at the developers’ urgings, were sticking to the developers’ preferred timeline and urging staff not to conduct the kind of environmental review that should have been done,” says Sabath. “In the end, I think that backfired and it’s the same thing that’s now causing problems for Dakota Access and Keystone XL.”

Industry Clocks Some Wins

It turns out that the victory for tribes and environmentalists that halted the Dakota Access pipeline’s flow is now in limbo.

The company behind that project, Canada’s TC Energy, has appealed the ruling and asked for a stay on the decision to shut down the pipeline while that appeal is considered. On July 15, the U.S. Court of Appeals for the District of Columbia Circuit issued a temporary stay — meaning oil can keep flowing — while it considers whether or not to make that stay permanent during the appeals process.

It’s too soon to say yet if this will indeed end up being a win for industry, but minimally it gets a tiny reprieve.

And despite some high-profile setbacks, like with the Atlantic Coast Pipeline, oil and gas companies have also notched a few other victories.

The same Supreme Court ruling that blocked construction of Keystone XL will allow the continued use of Nationwide Permit 12 on dozens of other pipelines. This permit, issued by the Army Corps, is a general Clean Water Act permit that lets developers expedite permitting for projects crossing waterways by allowing the use of a general, instead of project-specific, permit.

pipeline and pickup truck
Construction of the southern leg of the Keystone XL pipeline. Photo: Tara Lohan

And things could get even easier for pipeline developers after the White House issued a rule that would weaken the country’s bedrock environmental law, the National Environmental Policy Act. The new rule would limit public review and speed up permitting for infrastructure projects like pipelines and powerplants.

This new ruling comes after the administration had previously issued three executive orders to help speed up pipeline permitting.

Murky Economics

While the industry has faced legal ups and downs, the news is mostly bad from a financial standpoint — especially for companies heavily invested in shale gas.

Chesapeake Energy, a pioneer in the fracking industry, filed for bankruptcy protection on June 28 with $10 billion in debts — although not before doling out $25 million in bonuses to executives.

Chesapeake may be one of the most well known in the business to falter, but they aren’t alone. Just a few months ago Whiting Petroleum, once the largest producer in North Dakota’s Bakken shale, filed for bankruptcy protection. So too did Denver-based Extraction Oil & Gas. And California Resources Corp, the state’s largest oil and gas producer, followed them into Chapter 11 in mid-July.

Many more are likely to follow. Rystad Energy, an analytics company, recently warned that 250 oil and gas companies could file for bankruptcy protection by the end of 2021 as demand continues to fall, renewables outcompete them in the energy market, and pressures mount to address climate change.

Even the majors are affected. Last year Chevron wrote down $10 billion in assets, mostly in shale gas holdings.

In many ways, the industry has been its own worst enemy.

Wells and hay fields
Oil and gas wells in North Dakota’s Bakken shale. Photo: Tara Lohan

Fracking is more resource-intensive than conventional drilling. Companies drilled at a frenetic pace to try to recoup costs, but in the process they produced a glut of gas, further driving prices — and profits — down.

“The reality is that the shale boom peaked without making money for the industry in aggregate,” found a report from the financial advisory firm Deloitte. “In fact, the U.S. shale industry registered net negative free cash flows of $300 billion, impaired more than $450 billion of invested capital, and saw more than 190 bankruptcies since 2010.”

And while exports of liquified natural gas are rising, The New York Times reported that “future profits may be meager.”

The COVID-19 pandemic has delivered another huge hit, along with an oil price war between Saudi Arabia and Russia that sent oil prices to record lows in March. Last month BP announced they would trim $17.5 billion off their assets as energy demand falls.

It’s a harbinger of things to come.

“BP said that the aftermath of the new coronavirus pandemic would accelerate the transition to a lower-carbon economy, in line with the goals of the 2015 Paris climate agreement,” Reuters reported.

The Energy Landscape Shifts

For years environmentalists have warned that oil and gas reserves would end up being stranded assets for energy companies when a shift to a less carbon-intensive economy makes those fossil fuels unburnable.

We are beginning to see this taking shape with these recent pipeline decisions. All of these projects have been in the works for at least six years. And in that time the urgency of the climate crisis has come into sharper view and a number of states have decided to push ahead with clean energy commitments, despite federal opposition to action on climate change.

Some of these states are the same places where new pipelines have been proposed.

“We certainly saw that with the Atlantic Coast Pipeline,” says Sabath. “States like Virginia and North Carolina are moving quickly now toward clean energy and zero-carbon goals that are inconsistent with gas and oil infrastructure. It doesn’t make sense to have major projects that would lock you into carbon emissions that will not be permitted in your state in a couple of years.”

In March Virginia passed the Clean Economy Act to make the state’s electricity sector carbon free by 2045. And in 2018 North Carolina’s Gov. Roy Cooper signed an executive order to help spur a transition to a clean energy economy in his state.

People and Politics Hold the Power

Ups and downs in the oil and gas industry aren’t new. But the collision of crises in this current moment — the pandemic-induced demand reduction, the political and financial realities of climate change, surging clean energy, and legal reckonings on high-profile projects — are a steep challenge.

How well oil and gas companies rebound — if they do at all — may largely depend on November’s election.

But beyond politics, there’s one other big factor that will determine how this all plays out: the people.

People gathered
Dakota Access Pipeline protest by the White House, Feb. 8th, 2017. Photo: Victoria Pickering, (CC BY-NC-ND 2.0)

Mounting public opposition and effective organizing against projects that risk environmental and human health have become big forces.

“The only reason that there were substantial legal challenges in the first place is because of the epic organizing that preceded the lawsuits,” McKibben wrote about the three recent pipeline decisions.

And the communities whose voices are rising to the top are ones that have historically been silenced. “People are starting to listen to communities of color, low-income rural communities and tribes,” says Sabath. “I think — and hope — that some of those groups who might have been marginalized in the past may be heard now.” The NEPA changes may reduce one of the primary tools those groups have for voicing their concerns, but the extremely vocal activist networks that have developed over the past few years will continue to protest and organize.

Those voices — in combination with a rising global chorus of opposition to fossil fuel dominance — could ensure that mounting economic and environmental crises instead become opportunities for change.

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‘Essential’ But Unprotected: How the United States Fails Its Most Important Fish Habitats

A new report concludes U.S. waters “have insufficient protections for a healthy future,” and that the problem has gotten worse under the Trump administration.

“No wetlands, no seafood,” reads a popular bumper sticker in coastal North Carolina.

This argument is simple, eye-catching and undeniably true from a scientific perspective: if we want healthy populations of fish, crabs and shrimp, we need to protect key habitat where they live, breed and feed.

But do we?

The answer to that question, according to new report from the Center for American Progress, is a resounding no.

Not only that, things have gotten worse for fish habitats — and consequently, fisheries — since the Trump administration took office. And that puts fish populations, ecosystems, and part of the human food system at risk.

The heart of the problem, according to the report, lies the way we manage what’s known under U.S. law as an EFH, or “essential fish habitat.” These EFHs represent 800 million acres of habitat, including breeding and feeding sites for nearly 1,000 federally managed species, covering everything from coral reefs to rivers and wetlands.

Under the EFH regulatory structure, the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration works with U.S. fisheries management councils — groups that consist of government managers and representatives from industry, academia and the environmental community — to identify and map these habitats.

The law also gives fisheries councils virtually all the power and responsibility to protect these critical habitats and the sensitive species that live in them from manmade threats, including destructive fishing gear.

Unfortunately, according to the new report, councils are largely not using their power to protect. Despite their designation as “essential,” most of these habitats have no additional protections at all — they’re not managed differently than any other kind of marine or river habitats. Much of the rest isn’t protected strongly enough, according to the Center’s examination.

Essential fish habitats
Map of essential fish habitats overlaid with those that have protections in place. Source: NOAA

Ocean policy analyst Alexandra Carter, the report’s lead author, tells me they set out to understand the scope of the problem, but did not expect what they found.

“We were floored at how much identified EFH there is, but how little actual protections result from it,” she says.

In fact, the report concludes with an alarming warning, “The vast majority of U.S. waters have insufficient protections for ensuring a healthy future for American fisheries and oceans.”

The Weakest Link

Of the few areas that had protections, three-quarters had what the authors call “minimal protections” — usually just minor modifications to fishing gear that don’t accomplish much conclusive good.

One example of such a minor gear modification can be found in the Gulf of Mexico, where bottom-trawl nets dragged across the seafloor feature a heavy chain called a “tickler,” which improves catches by stirring up bottom-dwelling species like crabs, but which can also do a lot of damage to the habitat. In order to minimize the risk of damage, the EFH protection established by the Gulf of Mexico Fishery Management Council requires the tickler chain to have one link weaker than all the others. This supposedly enables the chain to break, if necessary, rather than continue to damage habitat.

This sounds good in principle, but according to Carter, “There’s no rule about how weak the link is supposed to be. It just has to be weaker than the other links.”

In many cases, the requirements to protect identified these key habitats consist entirely of things that fishermen were already doing, such as gear modifications put in place because they improve fishing, not because they protect the habitat

“That means there’s little additional protection, if any at all,” Carter says. “A list of new rules that consists of things people were already doing is not really what we think of when we think of a new protected area.”

How can this be? Well, according to Gib Brogan, an Oceana senior campaign manager who wasn’t involved in this report, the process of identifying what counts as EFH is a scientific one with clear guidelines, but what’s supposed to be done to protect an EFH once it’s identified is a lot more flexible.

“There’s been a lot of latitude given to the fisheries management councils,” he says. “Fishery managers have to make rules to minimize the adverse effects of fishing, but there’s lots of discretion about what exactly that means. And it’d be tough to make the case that the councils are fully implementing and fully achieving the requirements of the law. Habitat protection is often treated as a nuisance by managers, addressed not because it’s a priority but because the courts say they have to after they’re sued.”

A Worsening Problem

While this is a longstanding problem, it, like many other environmental issues, has gotten worse during the Trump administration.

“Science-based management is the key to modern fisheries, and the current administration doesn’t value science particularly highly,” Brogan says.

The regulations and processes for identifying EFH haven’t changed, but Carter notes that there’s been a noticeable change in attitude among the councils as a result of the Trump administration’s anti-regulation agenda. It was pressure from the New England fisheries management council, for example, that resulted in recent news that an Atlantic marine protected area would lose its protections. And a recent Executive Order solicited recommendations from councils for ways the administration could reduce regulatory burdens on fisheries.

EFH
Source: Center for American Progress

There have also been other, non-EFH related cases where the administration ignored science when getting involved in fisheries management, including issues related to recreational fisheries management and issues related to marine zoning.

“If we just let the councils ask the president to allow fishing in all our MPAs and not have any protections in essential fish habitats, we’re just not doing the best we can for our ocean ecosystems,” Carter says. “The councils are poised to take advantage of any opportunities to allow more fishing. It’s my opinion that with the Trump administration these opportunities seem to be much more abundant than in previous administrations.”

Of course, most of the protected EFH areas aren’t what scientists typically talk about when discussing marine protected areas, especially in the context of a goal to strongly protect 30% of the ocean by 2030. But experts say establishing stronger protections in EFHs would contribute to the same goals.

The report also cites the administration’s trade policies and the continuing threat of climate change as elements that have worsened EFH protection over the past three and a half years.

Can We Solve This Problem?

The report includes two key suggestions for improving the way we use EFH regulations to protect the oceans.

The biggest is to introduce a new requirement that any identified essential fish habitat have at least some substantive protections, usually in the form of restricting what kind of destructive fishing practices can or can’t take place there. Just noting that a place is important and should be protected without giving it any kind of actual protection, the authors say, is not especially useful. And while there’s value in allowing the councils broad latitude to make solutions that work for local conditions, the fact that so much EFH remains unprotected or minimally protected is cause for concern and a reason for reform.

The report also suggests ways to improve the public consultation process for designating and protecting essential fisheries habitats. This is often used for other environmental regulations under U.S. law and has allowed for a more transparent and effective process.

“We should have EFH, but we should improve it so it’s meaningful,” Carter says. “If we’re not doing what we can to preserve the valuable resources we have in the ocean, we are failing the future fishing industry of America. Protecting the ocean is a promise to the future to maintain public resources for the benefit of everyone.”

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A Virus Wiped Out 90% of This Turtle Species. Can It Recover?

Australia’s Bellinger River snapping turtle nearly went extinct in just months — before anyone knew it was in trouble. Conservationists are working to make sure it doesn’t disappear forever.

In most cases an extinction takes decades of slow attrition and population declines — a death by a thousand cuts.

Sometimes, though, a species can nearly vanish in the blink of an eye.

Take the strange, scary case of the Bellinger River snapping turtle (Myuchelys georgesi). A few years ago, an estimated 4,500 of these colorful critters swam the waters of the Australian water system for which they were named, a 44-mile river in the state of New South Wales, about six hours north of Sydney. They were probably never a populous species, and they faced a few problems from egg-eating predators, but otherwise these turtles hung on just fine.

Then disaster struck.

In 2015 canoeist Rowan Simon and a friend were paddling down the Bellinger River when they noticed a turtle sitting on a rock. It should have jumped back into the water as they approached. It didn’t. They got closer and found a shocking sight — its eyes “were grown over with this disease,” as Simon recounted to the Sydney Morning Herald last year. They found another sick turtle 20 minutes later.

That was the first sign of a disease that, in under two months, would wipe out more than 90% of the species. In addition to blindness, the virus reportedly caused inflammatory lesions and internal organ failure.

Today as few as 150 Bellinger River snapping turtles remain, making them one of the world’s 25 rarest turtle or tortoise species. Australia has declared them critically endangered and devoted hundreds of thousands of dollars toward the species’ conservation.

Bellinger River snapping turtle
Photo by Dr. Ricky Spencer, courtesy NSW Department of Planning, Industry and Environment

“I don’t know of any similar wildlife mortality like this,” says ecologist Bruce Chessman of the University of New South Wales-Sydney. “Of course, the chytrid fungus has wiped out some amphibian species quickly, but I don’t know of anything equivalent with turtles.”

Chessman served as the lead author of a recent paper that provided an estimate of the Bellinger River snapping turtle’s precipitous decline. “There’s a lot of uncertainty because, as the paper says, trying to get a reliable estimate of a very rare species over 70 kilometers of river is quite challenging. But we think it’s about 150-200 animals remaining. The risk of extinction is real because of the small number left.”

Virus-plus?

The researchers also examined several hypotheses about how a previously unknown and still unidentified virus could have killed so many turtles so quickly.

They didn’t find much.

“It’s all a bit of a mystery,” Chessman says. “There’s still so much we don’t know. We know it’s a reptile type of virus, but we have no idea where it came from, how long it’s been in the Bellinger River, or how it managed to apparently spread upstream rather than downstream at a rate of up to a kilometer a day, which is really quite bizarre.”

Previous research had suggested that some additional contributing factor — perhaps abnormal water temperatures, pollution or malnutrition — may have magnified the effects of the virus so that it caused so many fatalities. Current research, however, has found no specific evidence to support those hypotheses — at least, not yet.

“We can’t rule out that some sort of unusual environmental conditions in the preceding months were related to it somehow, but we don’t really have the information to understand what that was or what it may have been,” says Chessman. “Unfortunately, there isn’t that much information about what happened in the river until these sick and dead turtles started showing up in February 2015.”

Bellinger River
The Bellinger River in September 2019. Photo: Michael Coghlan (CC BY-SA 2.0)

Even our understanding of the virus — what it does and how it kills — continues to lag.

“Because the species is so critically endangered now, it’s not permissible to try infection trials with the few adults that are remaining,” Chessman explains. “So it’s still not possible to get that experimental confirmation about what infection with the virus really does to the turtles.”

All of this leaves the teams working to conserve the turtles with a great deal of uncertainty.

“We really don’t know what the prospects are in terms of further disease outbreak and mortality,” Chessman says. The few remaining turtles also face threats from predators, mostly introduced red fox, as well as from native species such as monitor lizards.

There’s also a genetic threat. Another Australian turtle species, the Macquarie turtle (Emydura macquarii), appeared in the Bellinger River in recent years. The newcomers are slightly more aggressive than the native species, so they outcompete them for food, and there’s evidence they’ve started to breed and hybridize with Bellinger River snapping turtles.

“The challenges are ahead,” Chessman says. “But everyone’s giving it their best.”

That “everyone” includes the NSW Department of Planning Industry and Environment, other government organizations, local conservation groups and experts around the world.

And that collaboration may represent hope for the species.

The Last Chance Leads to the Next Generation

After his first warnings reportedly fell on deaf ears, Rowan Simon and another friend returned to the river, where they gathered up 50 dead and dying turtles and presented them to the local council.

The collection process “was pretty horrific,” Rowan told the Sydney Morning Herald.

That confrontation finally motivated action. But by then — just two months after the first signs of the disease — very few turtles were left.

At the last minute, conservation teams rescued 17 healthy mature and immature Bellinger River snapping turtles from an upper stretch of the river the disease hadn’t yet reached. They soon became the core of a captive-breeding population at Sydney’s Taronga Zoo. Another 19 immature turtles (also healthy) were collected in November 2016 and sent to Symbio Wildlife Park to start a second captive-assurance population.

Bellinger River snapping turtle
A recent hatchling identified with a unique dab of paint. Photo courtesy NSW Department of Planning, Industry and Environment

That effort has paid off — and probably saved the species from extinction.

The captive turtles promptly got down to business and started breeding. Today more than 130 healthy turtles live at the two breeding facilities. Taronga Zoo announced the birth of the most recent 35 turtle babies this past May.

More importantly, 20 captive-born animals have been released back into the river, where they’re constantly monitored through surveys and radio transmitters.

So far the released turtles appear to be healthy, and their survival rate remains quite high. As of this past March, 17 of the released turtles were still being tracked; one turtle had died, while two more had disappeared after their tracking devices failed. That month 16 of the released hatchlings were collected, tested and rereleased. Gerry McGilvray, co-lead of the Bellinger River turtle conservation program for the NSW government, told The Guardian that the youngsters “appear to be in good health and there’s no evidence of exposure to the virus.”

That makes the Bellinger River snapping turtle an interesting parallel to the current COVID-19 pandemic: The virus seems to have caused greater mortality levels in adults than in immature turtles, for as-yet-unknown reasons.

“The older ones seemed more susceptible than the younger ones, which of course is true with coronavirus as well,” says Chessman.

A Long Road Ahead

Of course, you need to produce a huge number of hatchlings to make up for losing 90% of a species. That will take time — a lot of it — and the effort faces some very strict physical limitations.

For one thing, very few mature females remain — just 5% of the total wild population. On top of that, 88% of the remaining turtles are immature, meaning they won’t reach breeding age for several years — another 10-12 years in the case of the released hatchlings.

Bellinger turtle hatchlings
Two Bellinger River snapping turtle hatchlings. Photo courtesy NSW Department of Planning, Industry and Environment

That means it would take decades for the population to come anywhere close to recovery even if the zoos keep producing and releasing young, and if the virus doesn’t have a resurgence.

That timeline shouldn’t come as a surprise, as it often takes decades for threatened species to recover once (or if) the threat that put them at risk is contained. As examples, the Chessman team’s paper points out the difficulties faced by two other turtle species that faced enormous declines:

…a population of northern map turtles (Graptemys geographica) in the USA took 27 years to recover after a period of harvesting in which abundance declined by ~50% … and there was no recovery of a common snapping turtle (Chelydra serpentina) population in Canada 23 years after loss of 39% of nesting females to predation by otters…

For now, though, the Bellinger River snapping turtle’s declines have ceased.

The biggest question, though, is whether that status quo will persist.

“The means of recovery are in place, potentially, but there’s ongoing uncertainty about further mortality from disease,” says Chessman. “We just don’t know really what’s going to happen to these young turtles that are being released once they reach maturity. Will they then succumb to the disease and die, or was it perhaps more of a one-off event?”

Other uncertainties include the potential threat of more bushfires like the ones Australia experienced earlier this year. Several media reports have suggested debris from the fires fell into the Bellinger River, potentially affecting the turtles’ food supplies. (Despite more than four months of inquiries, the NSW Department of Planning, Industry and Environment’s public affairs office would not answer questions about how the fires may have affected the river.)

Extinction Inspiration

Although we don’t know much about the river basin’s water quality before the turtles got sick, we know a lot more about it now — because this near-extinction has motivated the community.

Soon after news of the virus and mass turtle deaths emerged, a group of citizens banded together to form Bellingen Riverwatch (named after the nearby town with a slightly different name than the river itself). Now community volunteers, schools and other organizations conduct monthly water-quality tests across three rivers, a process that’s continued even amid the pandemic.

The results have been mostly good, with a few concerns. Elevated phosphate levels have shown up several times. Tests for February and March found that several sites that, at certain moments, failed to meet guidelines for dissolved oxygen established by the Australian and New Zealand Environment and Conservation Council, indicating unsafe conditions for “aquatic life and the macroinvertebrates that our turtles love to eat.” The water’s oxygen content is potentially important for the Bellinger River turtle, a butt-breathing species that takes in some oxygen through its cloaca while it’s underwater. If a turtle can’t get enough oxygen from the water, it must come to the surface, putting it at increased risk of predation. Although concerning, there’s no indication this is currently a threat to the species.

Riverwatch logo
Bellingen Riverwatch uses an icon of the critically endangered Bellinger River snapping turtle in its logo.

But the most recent Riverwatch report, published June 24, found the river to be in “great” shape, with no visible pollution in most sites and only slight rises in certain phosphate levels or algae in others.

Swimming Forward

Although many questions remain, the Bellinger River snapping turtle appears to have been saved from extinction — for now.

Of course, the threat of another potential outbreak still looms large — as it does for other wildlife species and even people around the world.

“Situations like this are of course unpredictable and could in theory happen anytime and anywhere — kind of like COVID,” says biologist Craig Stanford, the lead author of a new study about the threats faced by the world’s turtle and tortoise species. What’s happening with the Bellinger River turtle, he says, “concerns all of us, but it’s hard to take lessons from it to prevent something like this from happening in the future.”

But there’s one lesson from the Bellinger River that we can all carry forward: If you see a turtle or other animal that’s displaying signs of illness or unusual behavior, raise the alarm. It could be the start of something catastrophic — and an opportunity to bring a coalition and a community together to fight for a good cause and make a difference.

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A Dam Comes Down — and Tribes, Cities, Salmon and Orcas Could All Benefit

You may not have heard much about the long fight to remove the Nooksack Dam near Bellingham, Washington, but its detonation this week will prove ecologically and culturally important.

The conclusion to decades of work to remove a dam on the Middle Fork Nooksack River east of Bellingham, Washington began with a bang yesterday as crews breached the dam with a carefully planned detonation. This explosive denouement is also a beginning.

Over the next couple of weeks, crews will fully remove the 125-foot-wide, 25-foot-tall dam, allowing the Middle Fork Nooksack to run free for the first time in 60 years. With the dam’s removal, 16 miles of river and tributary habitat will open up to help boost populations of three threatened Puget Sound fish species: Chinook salmon, steelhead and bull trout.

“This project has always ranked at the top of the list for fish recovery projects in this area because of the sheer number of miles of river habitat that are available upstream in a fairly remote and pristine area,” says Renee LaCroix, assistant public works director for the city of Bellingham, which owns the dam. “There’s no other single project in this area that can match this.”

Two local tribes, the Nooksack and Lummi Nation, have been behind the effort to help restore fish passage and the river’s ecological integrity.

“Our natural resources are our cultural resources,” says Trevor Delgado, the Nooksack tribal historic preservation officer. “With this removal we get a little piece of our home back — a place where our people have visited for hundreds of generations.”

LaCroix says the project has no downsides for the city, and it’s expected to increase the resilience of the municipal water supply, remove a safety hazard for kayakers, help fish recovery and restore culturally significant resources for the tribes.

Proponents also hope to see indirect benefits for endangered Southern Resident killer whales. This population of orcas ranges across Pacific Northwest coastal waters and relies on dwindling numbers of Chinook as a main food source. Fewer than 80 of the whales remain, and Chinook populations have fallen so low that the orcas have started altering their traditional migration patterns as they search for fish to eat.

But even with the dam removal’s many benefits and municipal and tribal support, the path to this moment hasn’t been easy.

The History

The Middle Fork Nooksack drains glacier-fed headwater streams that run off the icy summit of 10,778-foot Mt. Baker. The Middle Fork joins the North Fork and then the mainstem of the Nooksack River, which travels to Bellingham Bay and Puget Sound. The entire Nooksack watershed stretches 830 square miles across Washington and into British Columbia.

map of diversion dam and region
Image: American Rivers

For generations the river and its surrounding habitat have physically and spiritually nourished Indigenous peoples — including the Nooksack Indian Tribe and the Lummi Nation.

But all that changed when the dam was built in in 1961 to divert water to the city of Bellingham to supplement its main water supply in Lake Whatcom — the drinking water for the now-85,000 residents in the city and county. As soon as it went up, the dam obstructed fish passage, altered the river’s flow, and disrupted the ability of tribal members to use a culturally significant area.

For the past four decades, Delgado says, the Nooksack have pushed for dam removal. They got close in the early 2000s, when the Nooksack and Lummi Nation entered into an official agreement with the city and state to work on a solution that would allow fish passage, including the possible installation of fish ladders. But despite years of work, a suitable fix wasn’t found, and the effort had completely stalled by 2016.

The following year the nonprofit American Rivers, which works on watershed restoration and has extensive experience in dam-removal efforts, stepped in with financial backing from the Paul G. Allen Family Foundation. American Rivers’ April McEwan assumed a project management role and brought parties back to the table and soon into agreement on a plan to remove the dam and reengineer the city’s water intake from the river.

“What we know about dam removal is that if you can remove the infrastructure and restore the channel to natural conditions, that’s always the best way to get fish passage,” says McEwan.

The final cost of the project came in at around $20 million — way more than the city could afford on its own. About half of the cost eventually came from the state and the city is collaborating with federal agencies on the distribution of another $2 million in Pacific Salmon Treaty funds. But before applying for that money, the city had to complete costly initial design and permitting work. Private foundations — largely the Paul G. Allen Family Foundation, along with Resources Legacy Fund — picked up 70% of those initial costs.

LaCroix says help from American Rivers and the foundations was hugely important in getting the project “shovel ready” so it could apply for the construction funds it needed.

Removing the dam infrastructure was just part of the cost, though. Reworking the city’s water intake also required some tricky engineering.

A Plan Comes Together

The Middle Fork dam is not a pool dam built for water storage. Much of the time, water flows over the top until dam operators drop a floodgate to divert water to new locations. That water travels about 14 miles through tunnel and pipeline to Mirror Lake, then Anderson Creek, and to Lake Whatcom before finally being delivered to residents’ taps.

Before removing the dam, engineers had to move the water intake 700 feet upstream and situate it at an elevation that still enabled city water withdrawals throughout the year, regardless of flow conditions.

They also needed to make sure that the rushing water didn’t sweep up fish and accidentally send them through the water-supply system.

“The solution required a fairly complex design in the intake structure, including a fish exit pipe out of that structure to put fish back into the river in a way that meets current environmental permit standards,” explains LaCroix.

project schematic
Project layout for the removal of the Middle Fork Nooksack diversion dam and rebuilding of water intake. Credit: City of Bellingham

Despite the cost and the work, she says, being able to continue to meet their municipal water obligations while opening up habitat for threatened species has been a win-win.

“I think there’s a lot of benefits to having a dam removal versus fish passage — the main one being that you get a free-flowing river that can be a dynamic ecosystem and change over time,” she says. “A static fish ladder just can’t provide that same level of ecosystem benefit.”

Restoration Success

Despite local authorities’ championing dam removal on the Middle Fork, the project has largely flown under the radar, overshadowed in the Pacific Northwest by heated discussions about a much larger potential project — removing four federal hydroelectric dams on the lower Snake River, a major tributary of the Columbia River.

Proponents of dam removal there see it as the best chance for recovering threatened salmon populations, including Chinook, which could help starving Southern Resident killer whales. Those dams also provide irrigation water, barge navigation and hydropower, so there’s been more pushback against removal efforts.

Previous dam removals around the country, however, have proved successful at aiding fish recovery and river restoration.

Most notably the 1999 demolition of Edwards Dam on Maine’s Kennebec River restored the annual run of alewives, a type of herring essential to the food web. The fish run has gone from zero to 5 million in the two decades since dam removal. Blueback herring, striped bass, sturgeon and shad have also extended their reach. And the resurgence has brought back osprey, bald eagles and other wildlife, too.

The overwhelming success of river restoration on the Kennebec helped to spur a nationwide dam removal movement that’s now seen 1,200 dams come down since 1999. Last year a record 90 dams were removed in 26 states, including 20 dams in California’s Cleveland National Forest.

spider excavators removing dam
Spider excavators remove a dam on San Juan Creek in California’s Cleveland National Forest. Photo: Julie Donnell, USFS

The results have been seen in the Pacific Northwest, as well, which boasts the largest dam removal thus far in the country. In 2011 and 2014, the demolition of two dams on Elwha River, which runs through Washington’s Olympic National Park, opened up 70 miles of habitat that had been blocked for a century. Scientists have started seeing all five species of salmon native to the river coming back, particularly Chinook and coho. Bull trout, they’ve observed, have increased in size since the dams were removal.

Benefits on the Middle Fork Nooksack

McEwan hopes to see a similar outcome on the Middle Fork.

Like the Elwha the Middle Fork Nooksack is a relatively pristine river with little development, and dam removal is expected to provide a big boost to fish. The additional miles of spawning habitat are important, but so is the temperature of that water.

The dam removal will open access to cold upstream waters, which are ideal for salmon and getting harder to come by as climate change warms waters and reduces mountain runoff.

Aerial view of river and trees
Middle Fork Nooksack canyon just below the diversion dam. Photo: Wendy McDermott

“This is really great for the climate change resiliency for these species,” says McEwan.

Steelhead will get back 45% of their historic habitat in the river, and scientists expect Chinook populations to increase in abundance by 31%.

That could help Southern Resident killer whales.

“When you get to the ocean, it’s a little bit of a black box in terms of what you can model and say definitively is going to help, but more fish is better for orcas,” McEwan says.

Upstream habitat will see benefits, too.

Oceangoing fish like salmon enrich their bodies with carbon and nitrogen while at sea. When they return to their natal rivers to spawn and die, the marine-derived nutrients they carry back upriver become important food and fertilizer for both riverine and terrestrial ecosystems — aiding everything from trees to birds to bears.

“Once the fish start making their way back, it will start changing the whole ecological system,” says Delgado.

But any ecological benefit from salmon restoration, either in the ocean or the upper watershed, won’t be immediate.

“The population of salmon on the Middle Fork is so low that we expect it’s going to take quite a while to rebound,” she says. “But the big picture is that what’s good for salmon is good for the region — our history and our destiny are intricately intertwined.”

After decades of work, that process of restoration has finally begun.

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Study: Only 5% of Conservation Journals Comply With Principles for Fair and Open Access

Our research finds ethical problems that lock certain researchers out of the conservation and biodiversity publishing system — and offers resources to help decide where to submit new research.

Biodiversity conservation needs to be informed by science. The body of scientific knowledge, meanwhile, ought to be accessible to those whose work would benefit from using it (e.g., conservation practitioners) and reflect the perspectives of a diverse global network of researchers.

But that’s not always the case. In one recent study, nearly half of surveyed conservationists said it was “not easy” or “not at all easy” to access scientific literature in their work. Too often, the survey found, the publishing practices of academic journals — the primary outlet researchers use to disseminate their work — can provide a major barrier to achieving these aims.

Having experienced this ourselves, we recently published a study that asks: Do conservation and ecology journals use ethical publication models, what does this mean for conservation, and what can researchers do about it?

To answer those questions, we assessed the websites of 426 conservation and ecology journals against the Fair Open Access principles, developed by scholars and librarians to help transition toward more ethical publishing practices.

The five FOA principles are:

  • The journal has a transparent ownership structure and is controlled by and responsive to the scholarly community;
  • Authors of articles in the journal retain copyright;
  • All articles are published open access and an explicit open access license is used;
  • Submission and publication are not conditional in any way on the payment of a fee from the author(s) or their employing institution, or on membership of an institution or society;
  • Any fees paid on behalf of the journal to publishers are low, transparent and in proportion to the work carried out.

Most conservation research, we found, is published in journals that do not follow these principles.

According to our analysis two-thirds of journals, publishing almost half of all articles, complied with only one or two FOA principles. Only 20 journals (5%), publishing less than 1% of all articles, complied with all five principles. The majority of assessed journals charge high publishing fees to authors, restrict access to the published research to those that can pay, and take sole copyright ownership of the research produced by the conservation community.

ethical publishing
Source: “Ethical Publishing in Biodiversity Conservation Science,” Conservation & Society

Moreover, four publishers owned 80% of the 25 journals with the highest impact factor — a metric often used as a proxy of journal prestige when researchers decide where to publish. These publishers tended to have lower FOA scores, meaning researchers publishing in many prestigious journals must comply with more restrictive publishing practices — which potentially exclude researchers in lower-income countries from submitting their work to these highly read outlets.

This reveals major ethical problems within the conservation and ecology publishing landscape. Academics from lower-income countries, as well as researchers that are part of NGOs, are often excluded from publishing and reading many conservation journals. This exclusion is likely a barrier to evidence-based conservation in the most biodiverse and threatened parts of the world.

This barrier may partly be a consequence of the limited control by the conservation science community: A third of journals appear to be run entirely for profit, rather than being controlled by scholarly bodies.

What can researchers do about this?

While recognizing that there can be tradeoffs when selecting journals, authors can help address these practices by “voting” with their research papers — in other words, submitting research to publishers with the more ethical publishing models.

To help enable that decision process, our research provides scores for each of the conservation and ecology journals we assessed. Those results can be found here. We encourage researchers to consult this database when deciding where to submit their research.

Together we can start a shift toward a more equitable landscape of research publication and use in conservation — and that can only further enable our goals of protecting species in need around the planet.

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.

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Northern Fish Are Tough, But Can They Survive Climate Change?

Fish in the northern reaches of the planet are adapted to thrive in some of the most dynamic conditions, but new research finds that some species are showing decline.
Summer has finally arrived in the northern reaches of Canada and Alaska, liberating hundreds of thousands of northern stream fish from their wintering habitats.

Through the long winter, many have endured cramped, icy quarters with perilously low oxygen levels. Others have recently journeyed incredible distances from large rivers and lakes to small summer habitats upstream.

Northern stream fish come from a long line of hardy adapters. Their ancestors were well equipped to survive multiple ice ages and then go on to colonize some of the coldest newly accessible northern habitats. They thrive in some of the most dynamic conditions on the planet, from short intense summers, with up to 24 hours of sunlight, to long cold winters with limited light and food.

But the survival tools these fish have used for millennia — exceptional tolerance to cold, slow growth rates and long lifespans — could be a disadvantage as environmental conditions in the north warm and more fast-paced species move in.

Our research team set out to see how stream fishes were responding to unprecedented environmental changes across their northern ranges. Ultimately, we wanted to know how these changes might affect the hundreds of thousands of people in Alaska and northern Canada that rely on local fisheries for food, culture and economic security.

A Good News Story?

On the surface, the results from our study appear to provide a “good news” story. Warming temperatures were linked to higher numbers of fish, more species overall and, therefore, potentially more fishing opportunities for northerners.

Initially, we were surprised to learn that warming was increasing the distribution of cold-adapted fish. We reasoned that modest amounts of warming could lead to benefits such as increased food and winter habitat availability without reaching stressful levels for many species.

salmon under water
Salmon migration in Togiak National Wildlife Refuge. Photo: USFWS

Yet, not all fish species fared equally well. Ecologically unique northern species — those that have evolved in colder, more nutrient-poor environments, such as Arctic grayling and Dolly Varden trout — were showing declines with warming.

Fish Strandings and Buried Eggs

Recent news headlines run the gamut for Pacific salmon — from their increased escapades into the Arctic to massive pre-spawning die-offs in central Alaska. Similarly, results from our study revealed different outcomes for fish depending on local climatic conditions, including Pacific salmon.

We found that warmer spring and fall temperatures may be helping juvenile salmon by providing a longer and more plentiful growing season, and by supporting early egg development in northern regions that were previously too cold for survival.

In contrast, salmon declined in regions that were experiencing wetter fall conditions, pointing to an increased risk of flooding and sedimentation that could bury or dislodge incubating eggs.

Interestingly, we found that certain climatic combinations, such as warmer summer water temperatures with decreased summer rainfall, were important in determining where Pacific salmon could survive. Summer warming in drier watersheds led to declines, suggesting that lowered streamflows may have increased the risk of fish becoming stranded in subpar habitats that were too warm and crowded.

The Fate of Northern Fisheries

The promise of a warmer and more accessible Arctic has attracted mounting interest in new economic opportunities, including fisheries. As warming rates at higher latitudes are already two to three times global levels, it seems probable that northern biodiversity will experience dramatic shifts in the coming decades.

Fish under water
Arctic graylings. Photo: USFWS Mountain-Prairie/ Mark Conlin

Despite the many unknowns surrounding the future of Pacific salmon, many fisheries are currently thriving following warmer and more productive northern oceans, and some Arctic Indigenous communities are developing new salmon fisheries.

As warming continues, the commercial salmon fishing industry is poised to expand northwards, but its success will largely depend on extenuating factors such as changes to marine habitat and food sources and how many fish are caught during the freshwater stages of their journey.

Even with the potential for increased northern biodiversity, it is important to recognize that some northern communities may be unable to adapt or may lose individual species that are associated with important cultural values.

For example, many Yukon First Nations, including Tr’ondëk Hwëch’in, have voluntarily refrained from fishing their main traditional food of chinook salmon to help stocks recover. Other communities that rely on increasingly vulnerable northern-adapted species such as Arctic grayling and Dolly Varden trout may also be at risk to future changes.

Although climate change action is urgently required at the global level, there are still tools that environmental managers can employ locally to reduce some of the effects. For example, watersheds with an elevated risk of flooding during the salmon incubation period could have more stringent streamside habitat protections, such as preserving larger areas of streamside vegetation from development, actively revegetating disturbed areas and conducting site-specific erosion and sediment control studies. In dangerously warm and dry years, fishing quotas could be reduced to limit salmon die-offs.

Ultimately, we advise that getting ahead of these impending changes by preserving the integrity of large intact watersheds will be key for protecting these evolutionary superstars from new human-driven pressures.

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

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Climate Refugia: Protecting Biodiversity in the Face of Climate Change

Areas with natural buffers from the effects of climate change could play a vital role in conservation efforts. New research helps to better understand them.

For more than a century, the famous formation of long, symmetric columns of basalt have drawn tourists to marvel at the geology of Devils Postpile National Monument near Mammoth Lakes, California.

But recently scientists have found another interesting natural feature in the park. A valley with high walls and a north-south alignment blocks sunlight and traps cold air, creating cool temperatures that, they believe, may become a kind of refuge for plants and animals facing a warming world.

All across the world rising temperatures are changing ecosystems and threatening some of the species evolved to live in those places, forcing them to try to adapt or move. That’s why scientists are focusing attention on a field of study — climate-change refugia — that could help improve conservation and minimize biodiversity loss in the face of climate change.

The journal Frontiers in Ecology and the Environment dedicated its newest issue to the topic, with studies about how to identify, protect and manage these important areas. Authors in the issue say these climate-change refugia — areas largely buffered from current climate change effects because of unique local conditions, like the valley at Devils Postpile — could serve as ecological safe havens.

“As the effects of climate change accelerate, climate‐change refugia provide a slow lane to enable persistence of focal resources in the short term, and transitional havens in the long term,” wrote scientists in the issue’s first study, which was led by Toni Lyn Morelli, a research ecologist at the USGS Northeast Climate Adaptation Science Center. “Planned wisely, they can serve as stepping‐stones for multiple species as climates continue to change.”

Necessary Steps

The first challenge is identifying and mapping potential refugia — some of which could be small “microrefugia.” Then, according to the study, land and water managers need to shift natural resource priorities to protect and monitor these areas, which may face additional threats besides climate change.

Some groundwater-fed springs, for example, could be important refugia for conserving both freshwater and terrestrial species. But these freshwater sources also can be polluted, drained by groundwater pumping, trampled by livestock, or altered by invasive species or other human activities.

Four species using freshwater resources
Springs are hotspots of biodiversity, supporting (a) Salt Creek pupfish; (b) spring‐loving centaury; (c) New Mexico hotspring snail; (d) American black bear. Photos: D. Sada, Desert Research Institute; C. Souza, USFWS; G. Alpert, Museum of Northern Arizona; J, Moeny, New Mexico Environment.

Comprehensive efforts to address these threats have historically been rare, the researchers say, because springs aren’t often included in federal regulations that protect other water bodies, like lakes, streams and wetlands.

That’s why it’s critical to identify refugia and raise awareness about their important ecological value.

“Subsets of springs are likely to become ‘oases of the future,’ providing the kinds of hydrologic refugia needed to maintain groundwater‐dependent biodiversity in the coming decades,” wrote scientists in another study in the journal, led by USGS biologist Jennifer M. Cartwright.

Refugia in Practice

There’s still a lot to be learned about climate-change refugia, but state and federal agencies have started putting some of what they know into practice.

Research in California, for example, found that nearly 15% of the state’s lands could be a refuge for the region’s plants as the climate changes — particularly areas of the northwest Klamath Mountains, the northern Sierra Nevada and California’s Central Coast Ranges. But some iconic species — like coast redwoods and coast live oak — are likely to face climate stress in much of their range in future decades.

Map of distribution of plants
Vegetation refugia by 2070–2099 under wetter (CNRM ‐CM 5) and drier (MIROC ‐ESM ) global climate models. Areas in green represent consensus refugia (areas for which the two models agree that suitable climate conditions will be retained for the current vegetation); areas in blue and red represent additional lands considered as vegetation refugia by the two models. Image: Thorne et al, (CC BY 4.0)

The state’s Department of Fish and Wildlife is also looking at what these vegetation changes could mean for California’s 522 vertebrate species and how their ranges may shift over time.

Research to understand which plants species will fare best in certain locations in the future is also helping guide some of the reforestation and restoration work in California’s El Dorado National Forest following the 2014 King Fire, so species are not replanted in areas where they’re not likely to thrive with future warming. The practice could be adopted in other areas following large-scale disturbances.

“A more thorough evaluation of climate exposure and predicted locations of refugia could better inform species‐specific planting decisions with respect to site selection, planting densities and seed sources,” wrote researchers in a study led by James H. Thorne, a research scientist at U.C. Davis, published in the journal.

In fact, scientists have honed in on “disturbance refugia” — areas that experience less severe or less frequent disturbance by forces like fire, drought and insects than their surroundings and could provide another kind of refuge.

For example, islands of forest canopy that haven’t burned in wildfires provide reservoirs of genetic plant diversity that may be critical for land restoration and regeneration after a fire, found researchers in a study led by Oregon State ecology professor Meg A. Krawchuk.

While scientists agree that identifying and protecting these refugia are important tools in working to safeguard biodiversity, they also acknowledge that it’s not a static process. Many climate-change refugia are likely to be temporary “stepping-stone refugia” themselves as climate changes intensify beyond 2100.

Some, however, could endure longer.

“If the existing species assemblages persist over even longer times, then these locations might be considered climate refugia in the long‐term sense of the word,” wrote Thorne. “It is our task to identify such potential areas and consider what interventions, if any, would best promote such a future.”

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Racial and Environmental Justice: Our Coverage

We’ve collected our best articles and essays about the links between racism, pollution, climate change and more.

Standing Rock. Black Lives Matter. The U.S.-Mexico border wall. The oversized effect of COVID-19 on communities of color. These are some of the most visible manifestations of the way racism and environmental issues intersect — often with deadly results. Here you’ll find The Revelator’s ongoing coverage of these issues, including a mix of important journalism, expert commentary, and profiles of the leaders working for a brighter and safer future for everyone.

Black Leaders:

Dr. Robert Bullard: Lessons From 40 Years of Documenting Environmental Racism

Intelligence Thieves: How Toxic Pollutants Are Robbing Communities of Color

What Are the Biggest Challenges for Saving the Oceans?

Farming While Black: Growing Food and Community While Saving the Earth

How Colleges Can Attract More Minority Students to Environmental Studies and Careers

Native Americans and Indigenous Peoples:

The Shocking Number of Environmentalists Murdered Each Year

Ruby Mountains: A Push to Drill, a Failure to Consult Native Peoples

Can Native American Tribes Protect Their Land If They’re Not Recognized by the Federal Government?

The Koreguaje Tribe: Threatened Guardians of the Northwest Amazon

California Tribe Hopes to Conquer Climate Woes — With Fire

Forests and Biodiversity Need Indigenous Stewardship

Oak Flat: Government Complicity in Indigenous Sacred Site Desecration

Trump vs. Bears Ears: Outraged Native Groups Respond

Beyond Division: American Indians Unite to Create Bears Ears

How the World’s Oldest Wisdom Is Informing Modern Responses to Climate Change

Native Renewables: Powering Up Tribal Communities

Endangered Languages, Endangered Ecologies

Dam Lies: Despite Promises, An Indigenous Community’s Land Is Flooded

Tribal Cultures Underwater — and Falling Through Thin Ice

Environmental Justice:

Nothing to Wheeze At: Air Pollution’s Disproportionate Effect on Poor and Minority Communities

Environmental Justice Means Desegregating the Environmental Movement

Trump Administration Seeks to Muzzle Activist Shareholders

GreenLatinos: Working Locally, Connecting Nationally

Broader Discussions:

COVID-19 Reveals a Crisis of Public Spaces

‘We Know the End Is Coming’: The Plight and Rise of Climate Refugees

Fighting Water Privatization with ‘Blue Communities’

The Surprising Link Between Climate Change and Human Trafficking

Pandemic Shines a Light on Critical Water Issues — Will Congress Fund Solutions?

Should Environmentalists Embrace Universal Basic Income?

Build a Border Wall? Here’s an Idea That’s Better for Communities and the Climate

Editorials:

Don’t Look Away

Inhumanity at the Border — and Beyond

Additional Reading:

16 Essential Books About Environmental Justice, Racism and Activism

From Kochland to Standing Rock: Here Are the 16-plus Best Environmental Books of August

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Could the COVID Crisis Provide an Opportunity for Thailand’s Captive Elephants?

The pandemic has revealed the truth about Thailand’s unsustainable and exploitative elephant tourism sector — and a chance to rethink the relationship between humans and elephants.

In Buddhism the Asian elephant has been a symbol of wisdom and strength since ancient times. Even today, many countries regard this magnificent animal as part of their cultural heritage — like Thailand, where elephants are the national animal.

It’s easy to see why these animals remain so revered. Elephants are gardeners and landscape architects of their natural environment. They spread plant seeds and fertilizer, open underground water sources, and change the forest canopy by pushing over trees and digging up roots, thereby creating vital food sources and micro-habitats for other species.

Yet despite their cultural and ecological values, fewer than 50,000 elephants live wild throughout Asia today. The rest — up to 15,000 — spend their lives confined in captivity.

That dichotomy is at its strongest in Thailand, where less than half of elephants live free. About 3,500 elephants roam the countryside, while nearly 3,800 elephants go to “work” every day, according to a 2019 report from the Department of National Parks, Wildlife and Plant Conservation.

The captive elephants, which can most be found in tourist destinations called elephant camps, carry visitors on their backs, play soccer for spectators, and serve as cash cows for camp owners who depend heavily on tourist dollars to take care of their families and the elephants.

Elephant soccer
An elephant playing soccer for tourists in 2019. Photo: Miguel Discart (CC BY-SA 2.0)

Much of that is currently on hold. When the COVID-19 pandemic arrived, the world as we knew it shut down, including Thailand’s tourism sector. Today most of the captive elephants are out of work. Suddenly these revenue sources have become great financial burdens, with each one requiring up to 330 pounds of food daily. That can cost up to $40 a day per animal — three times the country’s minimum income.

Many in the community have expressed fears these difficult times will result in some elephants being sent to beg for food on city streets or put to labor hauling timber — a practice that was banned in 1989 but continues, illegally, on the border with Myanmar.

That’s why now, more than ever, change is necessary. We need to find the means to reconcile human and elephant interests in a way that benefits both.

We believe rewilding captive elephants provides a solution.

The Expertise Exists

Even before this crisis, many experts have expressed the need to rescue, rehabilitate and rewild Thailand’s elephants.

Our own research, published recently in the journal Animal Sentience, argues that the pandemic provides an opportunity to plan for a transformational strategy in elephant tourism. We also suggest that this can be accomplished in a way that would benefit both elephants and human communities. This is a long-term solution, and additional short-term resources are needed to help elephants and owners who are suffering today. But with so much stalled, now is the time to start thinking about and planning for the future.

Our research team combines more than 85 years of experience in elephant conservation. We take a scientific approach toward establishing a just and sustainable world where humans and elephants live together in harmony, in a mutually beneficial way, and without chains, enclosures or exploitation. In other words, we seek a world in which elephants live as they are meant to in the wild; people benefit financially, socially and spiritually from their presence; and nature benefits from elephants fulfilling their role as environmental engineers and keystone species.

Performing elephant
An elephant performs tricks for tourists. Photo: Michael Ellen Smith (CC BY-SA 2.0)

In order to ensure that elephants, people and nature benefit equally from this transformative strategy, we’ve explored innovative methods and opportunities — in part theoretical, in part already tested.

We believe the most promising approach involves creating so-called “corridors” by connecting existing fragmented natural areas through reforestation and trophic rewilding (rewilding as a strategy to restore ecological resilience), combined with a form of environmentally sustainable nature-based, cruelty-free tourism run by local communities. This will allow elephants space to live while bringing benefits through tourism, and associated micro-enterprises, to people in low-income areas.

There’s space to accomplish this. Thailand has 272 largely unfenced protected areas that cover approximately 20% of the country’s landmass. Currently elephants inhabit only 69 of these protected areas, often in populations much smaller than the viable minimum of breeding individuals. Moreover only 45% of the total available wildland, consisting of large undeveloped areas, has been formally declared protected, leaving a large amount of land in Thailand that could become elephant habitat.

This would have many benefits for the country. Elephants are trailblazers. Rewilding them so they can roam across potential corridor areas, and tracking their movements through the landscape, can show us which habitats currently function best and which patches of land offer the most natural migration paths between them. This will, in turn, allow us to identify where to reconnect fragmented patches of forest to create a viable, extended habitat — for the benefit of all of Thailand’s wildlife.

Challenges and Solutions

Of course, this novel enterprise will encounter novel challenges.

First, how do we convince elephant owners to release elephants?

It actually makes sense economically. The local mahouts and surrounding communities stand to benefit greatly from increased local and international tourism — post-pandemic, of course — if elephants live in additional locations beyond the restricted camps. Tourists who visit reserves with rewilded elephants would not only enjoy spending meaningful time observing elephants in their natural habitats, they could also immerse themselves in Thai culture, enjoy local cuisine, and participate in home-stay visits and craft-making workshops.

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An elephant at Krabi Elephant House Sanctuary. Photo: Ben Salter (CC BY 2.0)

In addition, many spin-off businesses could provide financial benefit in new, empowering ways, such as producing elephant dung paper, elephant ambassador programs, beekeeping and deriving unique products from the alternative crops not favored by elephants. Meanwhile, every enterprise associated with the tourism value chain itself would benefit, including hotels, taxis, restaurants and more.

This long-term, meaningful engagement offers benefits to local communities as well as mahouts that would be in keeping with the United Nations’ Sustainable Development Goals, thereby also obtaining international recognition for Thailand’s efforts.

The second question: Is it possible to just go ahead and release captive elephants?

Science has already demonstrated that rewilding captive elephants is possible and that it has positive outcomes. Studies in Africa showed that rewilding entire social groups, including calves, into suitable habitat helped to create and maintain stable social networks and reduce stress. Although Asian elephants differ from their African counterparts in physical appearance as well as behavior, rewilding studies in Thailand have shown similar results. A study in 2015 followed the reintroduction of elephants into forested areas and showed that the presence of calves, or adults with calves, helped unrelated elephants to bond and form new herds. Preliminary findings of a study in 2020 revealed that rewilded elephants quickly learned how to navigate forested areas, forage on wild plant species and form natural social groups. The lessons learned from these previously successful initiatives show us that captive elephants can be released and no longer live under direct human control if we do it in a carefully planned manner.

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Elephant in Kui Buri National Park in 2015. Photo: Tontan Travel (CC BY-SA 2.0)

The research also reminds us that elephants are social creatures and lone individuals should not just be randomly let loose to fend for themselves. An inventory of currently captive elephants could aid in identifying herds of healthy individuals that can be released together and in exploring the willingness of elephant owners to participate in rewilding projects.

Finally, is there a risk of increasing human-elephant conflicts?

Conflict is always possible when people live near large animals, but there are proven ways to minimize risk. In alignment with the Sustainable Development Goals, local people living near rewilded elephants should be engaged in conservation projects like forest restoration. Workshops can be facilitated to assist in the transition of alternative crops or to set up beehive fences to reduce the chances of damage by elephants. Although there will be some adaptation required from the various stakeholders, we believe that the benefits far surpass the negative impact these elephants may initially have on, for example, certain agricultural activities.

By using these techniques, individual rewilded elephants will be healthier, the survival rate of the Asian elephant as a species will be higher, and nature in these areas will be restored, enhancing resilience and channeling financial benefits to local people and the wider population.

Planning During the Pandemic

Although many challenges remain, rewilding captive elephants provides opportunities to restore ecological systems, gain knowledge, attract global investments for a holistic conservation approach, and improve livelihoods and wellbeing. We hope Thailand — and the international community — will stand up to the challenge and prepare for better, fairer, pro-environmental tourism after the pandemic has lifted, recognizing the interconnectedness of human well-being, nature and the economy.

Planning and implementation of this strategy must include all stakeholders and should start with the mapping of potential habitats for rewilding elephants, including areas of human disturbance. Social surveys and community workshops help to gain insight in how people feel about sharing their land with elephants, create ownership, offer an opportunity to educate people about the benefits of living with elephants and explore the potential for community development through convivial conservation. Importantly, new investment strategies (such as a carbon tax or community levy) are required to support a transformed world of ecotourism that enhances long-term sustainability and strengthens social cohesion.

This planning can also help Thailand’s already wild elephants, like those that live in Khao Yai National Park. With the park currently closed to visitors due to the coronavirus, its 300 resident elephants have started to expand their range, reaching areas they’d previously avoided due to humans.

The problems facing Thailand’s elephants are bleak, but promising solutions do exist. We need extensive exploration of all challenges to build knowledge and attract investments.

In an ideal scenario, elephants will be able to live natural lives, nature in general will thrive, and people will benefit in a material sense, as well as regain their age-old respect and veneration for the gentle giants.

Admittedly, the pandemic makes it difficult to envision those ideal scenarios, but it also tells us that now is the time to plan changes for a better future and an exciting new normal.

Michelle Henley of Elephants Alive, Lucy Bates of the University of Sussex and Rob Slotow of University of Kwazulu-Natal contributed to this essay.

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.

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