Will Climate Change Push These Amphibians to the Brink?

California newts faced the worst drought conditions in 1,200 years, but new research finds that the lack of precipitation may not have been their biggest threat.

Aerial photos of the Sierra Nevada — the long mountain range stretching down the spine of California — showed rust-colored swathes following the state’s record-breaking five-year drought that ended in 2016. The 100 million dead trees were one of the most visible examples of the ecological toll the drought had wrought.

Now, a few years later, we’re starting to learn about how smaller, less noticeable species were affected.

One of those is the California newt (Taricha torosa). These large, colorful amphibians live across the state, from Mendocino County to San Diego County, but newts living in Southern California fared worse during the drought, according to a new study published in the Nature journal Scientific Reports. And worse, anticipated future changes to the climate are likely to put northern newts in the same boat in coming decades.

Researchers have been surveying populations of these amphibians for decades. By tagging them with transponders and following their movements, they’ve learned that the newts can live for more than 30 years and return to the same spots year after year as they migrate between freshwater and land.

But as the drought began in 2012, the researchers noticed a change in the Southern Californian populations. There were fewer newts from the tagged population coming back to dozens of breeding sites monitored across the region each year. The researchers also observed fewer egg masses, tadpoles and larvae.

“Here’s a long-lived species that we’re not seeing individuals that we’ve seen for the last 10 or 15 years coming back to the sites where they usually breed,” says Gary Bucciarelli, the lead author of the report and an assistant adjunct professor of ecology and evolutionary biology at UCLA.

And there was one more piece of bad news: Most of the adult newts that did return in Southern California were in poorer body condition than before the drought began. This negative trend, the researchers concluded, was linked to drier and warmer conditions that were far outside the 100-year average.

At the time the state was experiencing drought conditions not seen there for 1,200 years. You’d expect drought to hurt amphibians, which rely on access to water, but Bucciarelli says the research shows that similarly record-high air temperatures may have played an even greater role than precipitation.

Warmer temperatures remove necessary moisture from the terrestrial environment. But they could also affect food — a shifting climate may mean less prey, says Bucciarelli. Or it could mean that newts spend more time wandering around, burning calories, and less time hunkered down as they normally would.

Whatever exactly happened in this case, “It all was strongly correlated with the extreme deviation in climate,” he adds.

Newt gets microchip
A syringe is used to place a microchip inside the abdomen of a California newt so they amphibian can be tracked. Photo: Jerry Kirkhart (CC BY 2.0)

Amphibians spend part of the year on land, and we know far less about how they spend their terrestrial days. “When they’re on land we don’t know if they’re underground, moving around, in a deep sleep, or what they’re feeding on,” he says. “This research suggests there are things happening on land that are impacted by temperature that we don’t really understand.”

One thing is certain, though: Climate change will bring more severe droughts and higher temperatures to California, and that could push newts in Southern California, which are already a species of conservation concern, closer to extinction.

And in the next 50 years, the northern populations are likely to experience the same change in body condition. That means that the northern range “likely will not provide climate refuge for numerous amphibian communities,” the researchers conclude.

That’s particularly bad news considering that globally, an estimated 40% of amphibians face extinction. A disease caused by chytrid fungus has devastated many amphibian populations, especially in Australia, Central and South America, and wiped out 90 species already.

But amphibians face other threats, too. And the California newt is no exception.

The species is adapted to drought, but “they haven’t dealt with drought coupled with temperature changes that are this rapid and this severe, in conjunction with habitat fragmentation, land use changes and fire frequency changes,” Bucciarelli says. “Now we’re beginning to see how these combined stressors are acting out ecologically.”

So what do we do?

Collecting more data is a good start. Land managers need to begin long-term monitoring surveys of populations of amphibians now, even if the species aren’t currently a major concern. “You never know what’s going to happen and having baseline data is super important,” he says.

Proactively improving habitat is also critical. We can start by ensuring that habitats are free of non-native species, says Bucciarelli, who has also tracked the negative effects of introduced fish and invasive crayfish on amphibians.

Suitable habitat is key, but so is connection. Many newt populations in Southern California have become islands, separated by development that limits their genetic diversity — and in the long run, their capacity to adapt to rapidly changing environmental conditions. Ensuring habitat connectivity could help strengthen their resilience.

Even if all of that happens, climate change will continue to be a threat, and Bucciarelli says we may need to develop contingency plans for worsening conditions if we hope to save these newts.

“We’ll have to think of different and more creative management strategies to help in years when temperature and precipitation are not in line with the norm.”

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Coronaviruses and the Human Meat Market

We’ve created a world where parasites and pathogens can run amok. Here are three steps we need to take, as a society, to protect both native species and human health.

Over the course of my career, I’ve come down with an endless variety of tropical diseases: leishmaniasis, amoebic dysentery, dengue, schistosomiasis, leptospirosis, countless bouts of diarrhea of unknown origin, dozens of cases of food poisoning, numerous secondary infections, pinworm, wandering hookworm, and dozens of botflies in various parts of my body.

This, plus my interest in new and reemerging diseases (like Monkey-B virus, Ebola, HIV/AIDs, Dengue, Chikungunya and Zika, as well as SARS and MERS — both of which are coronaviruses), led to an idea I’ve been mulling over for more than 30 years, which seems to be playing out now with the novel coronavirus COVID-19.

I call it the “human meat-market hypothesis.”

Superabundance Makes Us Easy Prey for Parasites

If you look at the course of evolution, you see that certain species become abundant, or even superabundant, for whatever reason. Along with this success, you see the accompanying evolution of predators to take advantage of this food resource, this mass of protoplasm, this “meat market” of living creatures. These include the emergence of a wide variety of parasites — viruses, bacteria, protozoans or rickettsia — that make use of these superabundant species. Predators and parasites evolve to depend on these superabundant species for their survival.

One of the world’s more successful, abundant species? Humans. That makes us a huge source of food for potential predators and parasites — a human monoculture, or a “human meat market.”

covid-19
Source: Centers for Disease Control

Saber-toothed tigers and cave bears were a problem for us in the past, and some animals still eat us from time to time. But it’s unlikely that new megafauna predators are going to emerge at this point, leaving certain microfaunal parasites as our major adversaries in the future — and right now.

The more simplified and less diverse ecological systems become, due to our exploitation of those ecosystems, the more we’ll become targets of these emerging pests, unbuffered by the vast array of other species a healthier ecosystem provides.

The consumption of wild animals (aka “bushmeat”) in China, Southeast Asia, West and Central Africa and elsewhere provides a direct human connection to pathogens that would otherwise be restricted to different species living in their natural habitats. Anyone who has ever visited the dreadful markets where bushmeat is sold knows how unsanitary they are and how easily they can cause direct infections to human consumers — which is how the most recent coronavirus jumped to us. The only surprise is that these kinds of outbreaks have not happened more frequently.

bushmeat
Staff from the Centers for Disease Control and the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service inspect bushmeat being imported into the U.S. (Photo: Derek Sakris/CDC)

Our domestic animals are an even bigger “meat market” for parasites. Domestic mammals account for 60% of all mammalian biomass on Earth, compared to 34% for humans and only 4% for all wild mammals. No wonder we feel we have to pump domestic animals full of antibiotics to avoid the occasional outbreaks of domestic disease epidemics such as mad cow, swine flu, foot-and-mouth disease and avian influenza, which then often spill over into humans.

The combination of the two, the human meat market and our own domestic-animal meat market, is proving deadly.

What does this mean for conservation? Three major steps need to be taken.

Protect Biodiversity

First, we need to protect the full range of biodiversity on our planet, since diverse, healthy and functioning ecosystems protect us. We don’t want our Earth to become less diverse, with people (and our domestic animals) becoming increasingly easy targets for the harmful viruses, bacteria, protozoans and other parasites that will certainly discover that we’re the best, most readily available source of meat.

Stop the Wildlife Trade

Second, we must stop removing wild animals from their natural habitats for human use and consumption, practices that put us into direct contact with their parasites. We strongly encourage countries that are actively engaged in the commercial trade of terrestrial wild animals for food, medicines and pets to ban these practices permanently.

China has already done so in response to COVID-19, but how long will such a ban last? The country also banned bushmeat after the SARS outbreak in 2003, but the markets opened again shortly after the threat passed — and now we have COVID-19. Vietnam’s government is also preparing a directive to stop its $18 billion wildlife-trade market. African countries should also ban commercial bushmeat consumption. Some have made feeble attempts to do so, but most haven’t stuck. These bans need to be strictly enforced, including by focusing on the vast illegal underground markets.

Eat Less Meat

Third, as a society we need to move away from large-scale meat consumption in general and transition to plant-based diets.

Coronavirus has given us yet another wake-up call. We can’t yet determine how severe this outbreak will be, but it should help us prepare for the future, not just in Band-Aid approaches like more masks, hand-sanitizers and test kits, but in attacking the underlying causes of these outbreaks to prevent them in the future. We simply must put an end to the commercial trade in wild animals for food, medicine and pets — for the health of our planet and for us humans who live on it but continue to destroy it with such callousness and ignorance.

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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Can You Draw An Extinct Species From Memory?

An art project brings to light how quickly the species we’ve lost can fade from our consciousness.

Pop quiz: What did the quagga look like?

If you’re scratching your head, you’re probably not alone. It’s been 137 years since this South African zebra subspecies went extinct, and it was only photographed once, so its image doesn’t exactly leap to mind.

The quagga isn’t the only lost species that’s fading from our memory. A recent art project asked 20 illustrators around the world to draw extinct species like the quagga, great auk and sea mink without looking them up first.

The results were … not very accurate.

Take the Pyrenean ibex, for example, which went extinct just 20 years ago:

Ibex
Courtesy: Tanzania Expeditions

As you can see, a lot of the illustrators had the antelope family in mind, but some of their images differed dramatically from the ibex’s actual appearance. A few artists apparently thought the ibex was a bird.

The project was the brainchild of a safari tourism company called Tanzania Expeditions, which created it as a tool for conservation outreach.

“We know how much people love lions, tigers, zebras and elephants,” says Justin Mtui, the company’s CEO. “But can they imagine a world where people didn’t know these animals? We wanted to highlight the importance of keeping these species a part of our world by showcasing how some of those historic animals — many of which lost to human intervention — have been erased from knowledge.”

A few of the artists report that they had an idea about what some of these extinct species looked like before sitting down to draw. Others had more difficulty — and they found that troubling.

“It made me realize that I actually don’t know many of the extinct animals, apart from the dodo,” says Connor Handley, a designer based in the United Kingdom.

The artists tell us that the experience offered them a valuable lesson.

“I think this project really highlighted how little awareness there are of some now-extinct animals, and it does make you worry about which of our current wildlife could be completely extinct and unknown in future,” says French illustrator Candice Massaria. She adds that she wasn’t too pleased to see how her drawing of the extinct moa differed from reality. We won’t tell you which of these was hers:

moa art
Courtesy: Tanzania Expeditions

Let’s be honest: This isn’t just about extinct species. How many of us in this era of disconnection from nature can accurately draw or describe any species, whether rare or common? Even a certain environmental editor admits to having this occasional problem:

 

View this post on Instagram

 

This week’s sketchy cartoon. #comics #webcomics #pig?

A post shared by John Platt (@johnrplatt) on

How would you or your kids cope with this challenge? Let’s put that to the test during this time of self-isolation. Here’s a list of 10 extinct species, some of which were just declared lost this past year. Try drawing them — no Internet searching! — and send us the results or post them on social media using the hashtag #drawingextinction. We’ll add the best entries to this article.

Tasmanian tiger

Bramble Cay melomys

Chinese paddlefish

Desert rat-kangaroo

Baiji

Pinta giant tortoise

Cumberland leafshell

Yunnan lake newt

Miss Waldron’s red colobus

Po‘ouli

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In This Time of Crisis, We Need to Keep Our Eyes Open

Even as thousands of people get sick and die, the Trump administration continues to strip away our environmental protections. And that’s just the start.

Both eyes open. Look for potential threats coming from all sides. Be prepared to change course at a moment’s notice.

That’s quickly become a life strategy at the dawn of this pandemic — which still seems like an alternate reality — as we carefully, nervously navigate our neighborhood sidewalks, lonely roads and outdoor trails.

It needs to be our larger strategy, too.

As we self-isolate, seeing our passing neighbors and even ourselves as potential disease vectors in the community, new threats have continued to emerge around us.

While many of us have been panic-watching the news for updates on the worldwide COVID-19 crisis, the Environmental Protection Agency — already defanged by the Trump administration — quietly stopped enforcing antipollution laws, a dereliction of duty that came at the behest of the American Petroleum Institute and other industry leaders.

This development occurred in the background, unnoticed by most of us, just as we learned that air pollution appears to increase COVID-19 death rates.

Meanwhile, also mostly hidden from public view, the Trump administration has moved forward on several oil, gas and mining lease auctions, approved construction of the Jordan Cove liquefied natural gas export terminal, hired a trophy-hunting advocate to run the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service’s international program, proposed allowing GMO crops in wildlife refuges, continued its move to reduce automotive fuel-efficiency standards, and weakened a host of other environmental regulations, including one on toxic coal ash.

Looking beyond the federal level, Kentucky, West Virginia and South Dakota all passed laws intended to criminalize protests against pipelines and other fossil-fuel infrastructure.

And then there are the disaster capitalists, who seek to take advantage of the chaos to make greater profits. The most obvious examples affecting consumers so far include price-gouging on N95 masks and toilet paper, but the bigger picture continues to emerge every day. To name but a few: the coal industry asking to be relieved of its responsibility to support miners with black-lung disease; the plastics industry looking to suspend bans on single-use bags; and corporations galore lining up for handouts through the federal coronavirus stimulus package.

There will be more. Probably, a lot more.

To protect ourselves — both from the virus and the corporate forces that want to use this pandemic as an opportunity to take control — we need take our modern survival strategy to the next level.

Both eyes open. Look for potential threats coming from all sides. Be prepared to change course at a moment’s notice.

And when you see these novel injustices and threats emerge, shine a light on them and raise hell.

That means paying attention, safely engaging in every opportunity for participatory government, supporting nonprofit watchdogs and vital local and national journalism (which needs our help more than ever), and using social media and online tools to call out injustice and mobilize activism.

And keep an eye out for your neighbors, friends, family and colleagues. We need to step up to safely help people and systems in need every chance we get — and we shouldn’t be afraid to ask for help if we need it.

It’s easy to let fear overwhelm us and rule our lives. It’s far, far harder to pay attention to the big picture while many of us are struggling, getting sick and even dying. But this pandemic isn’t the only fight going on right now, and if we’re not careful, we’ll lose a lot more before it’s over. Experts warn that fascists and other political strongmen have used pandemics to seize or consolidate power — something that’s already happening in Hungary and several other nations. Many countries have already launched efforts to hobble freedom of the press — as has, apparently, the governor of the state of Florida.

Corporations and anti-government extremists are sure to take or advocate for similar actions.

If we’re not careful through all of this, we’ll undoubtedly lose many more lives, careers, protections, habitats and species.

But that can only happen if we fail to keep both eyes open, even in these troubling times.

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Save Salmon, Save Ourselves

A new book from veteran author Mark Kurlansky explains why helping to save salmon is one of the best things we can do for ourselves and the planet.

If you want to know how well the environment is faring these days, look to the fish. Especially salmon.the ask

“Our greatest assaults on the environment are visible in salmon,” writes author Mark Kurlansky in his new book, Salmon: A Fish, the Earth and the History of Their Common Fate.

Following decades of environment abuses, salmon populations in many places, especially the Atlantic, are in dire shape. Some Pacific runs have disappeared, too, and most populations are greatly reduced. Farmed salmon now outnumber wild ones.

How did we get here?

Kurlansky takes readers on a long historical trip to communities throughout the northern half of the world — anywhere you can or could find salmon — to understand how the fish went from ubiquitous to imperiled. Along the way he reveals the role of salmon in historical and contemporary indigenous communities, the destructive march of industrialization, the complicated role of hatcheries, and the growing threat of climate change.

“Human inventiveness keeps proving inadequate for replacing the natural order,” he sums up.

Salmon, Kurlansky’s 33rd book, is part natural history and part cultural history — there are even a few recipes. And it’s reminiscent of some of his previous hits including, Milk!: A 10,000-Year Food Fracas and Salt: A World History.

The Revelator recently spoke to Kurlansky about the threats to salmon, why we don’t seem to learn from our mistakes, and the life history of what he calls these “extraordinarily poetic” fish. book cover

Why did you want to tell this story about salmon?

In 1997 I wrote a book about cod and it happened to be about the time that the northern cod stocks collapsed and people started really thinking about fishery management and overfishing. I worked on commercial fishing boats in the 1960s and that’s all anybody was talking about then, but by the 1990s the general public was [finally] thinking about it, too.

I have continued to watch what’s going on with fisheries and I’ve realized that [focusing on] overfishing doesn’t come close to covering the problems that we’re actually facing. I thought that salmon was an ideal fish to make that point, because as an anadromous fish that lives in freshwater and at sea it’s destroyed by everything we do to the oceans and everything we do to the land.

What are the biggest threats facing salmon today?

There’s a dazzling variety of things that are causing the problem, including bad farming practices, pesticides, deforestation, damming of rivers and climate change — and climate change and climate change.

There’s a lot of places — most of the North Atlantic — where there’s no more commercial fishing of Atlantic salmon. And yet the stocks still keep declining. One of the reasons for this is that salmon are born in the rivers and they reach a certain size and they go out to sea. They gain 95% of their size when they’re at sea by eating voraciously.

And what people have been telling me all over the North Atlantic — in New England and Scotland and Norway — is that the salmon that go to sea just aren’t coming back at the same rate they used to. When scientists look into this, they discover that the ocean is losing its carrying capacity — its ability to feed the animals that live in the ocean.

In more than 40 years of writing about this sort of thing, it’s the scariest thing I’ve ever learned.

If the oceans can’t feed the fish, we’re really sunk. And this is due to climate change.

Before climate change was a threat to salmon, you document, there was a long history of salmon getting in the way of “progress.”

The British destroyed their rivers by damming them to get power for mills. And then the mills dumped pollution until the rivers were completely dead. And then people of British origin did the exact same thing in New England. And then it was New Englanders who went to the Pacific Northwest and built all these dams to make it an energy-based economy.

And while I was researching this, I was thinking, “Why don’t people ever learn?” And then I realized it’s because they don’t think they’re doing anything wrong. The British were out to create the greatest power of the industrial revolution. And they succeeded. And in New England, they succeeded in creating the greatest industrial center of North America. And in the Pacific Northwest, they took a place with very little economic activity and turned it into this powerhouse.

And so, what you really learn from all of this is that the whole problem is our concept of economic development.

You write a lot about the life history of salmon, and how adaptable they are. Does that give them a better chance of survival?

They are really one of the most astounding, beautiful animals in the kingdom. They can jump 10, 11 feet in the air, which in comparison to their size would be like a human being jumping 50 feet. They can swim faster than an automobile. They will journey thousands of miles back to find not only the river of their birth, but the exact spot in the river where they were born.

They are voracious eaters in the ocean, but when they enter the river, they stop eating. If they didn’t, they’d just clean out the river. So nature dealt with that by having them just stop eating and they live off the fat and the energy that they got out at sea. They give everything they have to get up this river, no matter the current or waterfalls. Then they get there, and they reproduce, and they have nothing left and they die.

Their life history is extraordinarily poetic.

The challenges you document in the book are substantial. Are there reasons to be optimistic about the future of salmon?

Yes. Farmers have become more aware of harmful practices. People have become more cautious about the use of pesticides. And I don’t think the argument flies anymore that we should build more dams because it’s better than fossil fuels. Dams can be torn down and replaced with alternative energy.

People are becoming aware of these things. There have been polls in the Pacific Northwest that show that the population thought it was more important to preserve salmon in the Columbia River than to have industrial development. And people in Northern California want their salmon back and are doing things about it, including taking down dams.

But of course, you can’t just tear down the dams and let the salmon in and expect everything will be fine. You also have to clean up the river and then you’d have to rebuild the river because the dams have completely misconfigured it. You have to bring back an environment that a wild salmon will live in.

That reminds me of a line in your book where you write, “If salmon doesn’t survive, there’s little hope for the survival of the planet.”

Yeah, or the other way you can look at it is: If you want to save salmon, all you have to do is save the planet.

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Freshwater Species Are Disappearing Fast — This Year Is Critical for Saving Them 

Scientists and policymakers have developed a time-sensitive plan to help save ailing freshwater ecosystems and imperiled species. 

We’ve all seen photos of clear-cut forests with swathes of razed trees or deep scars in the ground from an open-pit mine. The damage to the species that live in these habitats isn’t hard to imagine.

But the damage we’ve done to freshwater ecosystems isn’t so visible. In rivers or lakes, trouble often lurks out of view beneath the surface of the water — as with dams that block migratory fish or choke off needed nutrients and sediment.

Some experts believe we’re losing freshwater species faster than any others for one main reason: out of sight, out of mind.

A new study by more than two dozen expert scientists and policymakers aims to change that.

Their paper, “Bending the Curve of Global Freshwater Biodiversity Loss: An Emergency Recovery Plan,” published last month in BioScience, explains the growing threats to freshwater biodiversity and proposes a plan to tackle it by adjusting targets and indicators in two existing global frameworks — the Convention on Biological Diversity and the United Nations Sustainable Development Goals.

Time is of the essence, they write. Both frameworks are up for discussion and review by the world’s governments later this year, offering a unique but brief opportunity to make a difference for freshwater species.

Many of those species don’t have much time to wait. Freshwater species face grave threats, with 62% of turtles, a third of amphibians and more than a quarter of fishes currently threatened with extinction. Populations of freshwater vertebrates are falling twice as fast as vertebrates on land or in the ocean, and the population decline for freshwater megafauna — those animals that can reach 66 pounds or more — fell an astonishing 88% from 1970 to 2012. The Chinese paddlefish, one of the world’s largest freshwater fish, is now believed to be extinct.

“This decline and the possible solutions have not been that well publicized and aren’t strongly understood by decision makers,” says Jeff Opperman, the lead scientist for global freshwater issues at WWF and a co-author of the report.

dolphin swimming
Fewer than 100 Irrawaddy dolphins are believed to be left in the Mekong River. Photo: Jim Davidson, (CC BY-NC-ND 2.0)

Scientists do know what’s driving this decline: changes to river flow, pollution, habitat loss, overexploitation of species and invasive species. Yet no comprehensive global framework exists to tackle the problem with the urgency and at the scale we need, the report says.

That’s where the new study comes in. Opperman says it provides clear examples of how to add or amend language and goals to help protect and restore freshwater ecosystems into both existing international frameworks.

“At least we can get these global frameworks and targets to specifically recognize the challenge and highlight opportunities that we have in terms of fresh water,” he says. “That can help raise expectations for how the world is going to handle this.”

The plan lays out six priority actions for global action:

  • Accelerate the implementation of water protections against agricultural, industrial and domestic use to ensure that rivers have enough water to protect freshwater habitat.
  • Improve water quality. Pollutants vary by region, but across Latin America, Africa and Asia, 80% of sewage discharged into waters hasn’t been treated adequately.
  • Protect and restore critical habitat, like inland wetlands, which have decreased by 87% since 1700.
  • Prevent the exploitation of freshwater species and river structures. Better policy frameworks could prevent overharvesting of fish, crabs, frogs and other species, as well as mining sand and gravel that can destroy freshwater habitat.
  • Prevent and control the invasion of non-native species.
  • Protect and restore the connectivity of freshwater systems. Dams, for example, bisect riverine habitat and alter flows. And flood management structures like levees separate rivers from floodplains.

The paper translates these priority actions into specific recommendations. For instance, the researchers recommend that the Convention on Biological Diversity amend its ecosystem services goals to emphasize the many values of healthy freshwater ecosystems, not just the need to protect water supplies.

The authors also propose adding language to include inland freshwater fisheries in fisheries management targets, instead of just marine fisheries. An estimated 158 million people are fed by freshwater fisheries, but they’re often overlooked by governments because they’re outside traditional markets.

In the Sustainable Development Goals, the researchers advocate including an emphasis on nature-based solutions in the sustainable infrastructure goal. And they recommend a new indicator to track the number of water bodies that have implemented environmental flows.

For each recommendation in the study, the researchers also provide real-world cases that show the solutions in action and best practices that could help other countries implement similar strategies.

River with fall foliage
Dam removal and improved fish passage have opened up more than 1,000 miles of connected riverine habitat on Maine’s Penobscot River. Photo: Jim Dollar, (CC BY-NC 2.0)

“These aren’t academic recommendations,” says Opperman. “We’re showing which countries have done this and the benefits.”

The report was just released in February, but Opperman says it’s already generated some good high-level discussions. “The key agencies that are involved in the dialogue have been receptive to this emergency recovery plan as useful guidance,” he says.

But the truly hard work will be if, or when, governments put these guidelines into practice. Researchers will need to play a key role, too, in maintaining and increasing the amount and the types of things they track related to freshwater populations and ecosystem services.

“If we’re not able to monitor and document trends, it will be hard to know how we’re performing against targets or just performing in general,” Opperman says.

We’re a long way from what’s needed at the global level to stem the loss of freshwater biodiversity, but the study’s authors contend that right now we have “a once in a generation opportunity to promote such improvements at scale and to avoid the irreversible losses of species and habitats.”

Will global leaders rise to the challenge?

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Spending Time in Nature During the Pandemic? You’re Not Alone — and That’s a Problem.

Encouraged by the federal government, lots of people are trying to get outside. But it’s a risky decision for rural communities.

When the San Francisco Bay area, where I live, started seeing its first confirmed cases of COVID-19 a few weeks ago, my initial reaction was to pack up my camper van and head for the hills. Knowing tough times were ahead, I just wanted to be in nature.

There’s a scientific reason behind that desire — studies have shown that time in green spaces is good for our health and can even reduce the risk of type II diabetes, cardiovascular disease and premature death. It’s not just a boon for our physical health, either: Being in nature can improve our mental and emotional wellbeing, too.

Taking deep breaths in the shadow of an ancient redwood tree feels good on any day, but during a global pandemic, when we’re battling a rotation of fear, anxiety and uncertainty, it seems almost essential.

Since we’ve been ordered to “shelter in place” where I live, my van’s still parked in front of my house. But I’m far from alone in my desire to get outside and hit the trails. And that’s becoming a big problem for rural communities.

Earlier this month, as health officials were warning that our best bet for slowing the spread of the virus was to stay home, the federal government was waiving entrance fees and encouraging people to visit national parks, wildlife refuges and other federal public lands.

A few places like the Golden Gate National Recreation Area in the Bay Area and the Statue of Liberty National Monument closed. But most didn’t, and visitors flooded in.

Even as outrage grew over coronavirus-mocking spring break revelers packing beaches in Florida, folks of all ages were visiting national parks across the country. A March 17 story in The Guardian described shoulder-to-shoulder crowds at popular parks like Big Bend and Zion, which later suspended its shuttle bus service.

In theory, getting out into nature and exploring our expansive public lands may seem like a good idea right now. But finding the right balance between enjoying the outside and keeping park employees and local residents safe during this health crisis has proved tough.

Most people don’t head for remote wilderness; instead they congregate in the popular and accessible locations. They also need services like restrooms, garbage cans, restaurants and shuttles, which — if they’re carrying the virus — can put not just other visitors but park staff at risk.

“We should not be encouraging more visitation to our national parks,” Phil Francis, chair of the Coalition to Protect National Parks, said in a statement. “It is irresponsible to urge people to visit national park sites when gathering at other public spaces is no longer considered safe.”

National parks are already dealing with budget shortfalls in the billions — reduced staff with bigger crowds right now further threatens park resources.

We’ve seen that before. During the government shutdown last year, leaving parks open but largely unattended by rangers resulted in heaps of garbage, destroyed trails and damaged plants.

One National Park Service employee, in Klondike Gold Rush National Historical Park, took a very public stand against this last week. In his resignation letter, which he distributed to the media, he said park employees who still had to come to work in the small Alaskan town of Skagway were being put at risk.

“We are geographically isolated. We have one respirator in town and no doctors,” wrote Dustin Stone, who also serves as a local assemblymember. “The municipality has declared a state of emergency and requested that people close non-essential offices, yet my federal employer actively chooses to disregard those guidelines, as well as CDC and White House recommendations.”

This isn’t just a problem in remote Alaska. Rural areas across the country already face limited medical resources exacerbated by years of hospital closures that put residents at an increased risk, especially when visitors cause a quick uptick in population.

Arches and Canyonlands national parks in Utah are still open, but the surrounding communities, like Moab, have tried to deter visitors by closing campgrounds and hotels to out-of-towners. Local hospital officials even sent a letter to the governor asking for nonessential businesses to be ordered closed, as well as parks, the Salt Lake Tribune reported.

“Although the desert around Moab is vast, our town is small,” the letter said. “We are already concerned about how we will meet the needs of our community in an epidemic. As a 17-bed critical access hospital, we have no ICU and minimal capability to care for critical respiratory patients.”

It’s a similar story in Colorado. Rocky Mountain National Park closed on Friday after urgings from the mayor and health department in the adjacent town of Estes Park, which had its first confirmed COVID-19 case. In a letter to Interior Secretary David Bernhardt, Mayor Todd Jirsa said that a flood of visitors posed a “grave public health concern” for the small communities around the park, which have limited resources and a large population of higher-risk retirees.

In Lake Tahoe the agency responsible for luring tourists and drumming up business reversed course. “This is something I thought I’d never have to say throughout my tourism career, but please stay home at this time,” Carol Chaplin, the president of Lake Tahoe Visitor Authority, said in a statement. “Once it is deemed safe by the health experts, we can welcome you with open arms and will be joining you.”

Coastal areas of Oregon and California saw bumper-to-bumper traffic this weekend as people headed to beaches and parks. Keeping a safe distance became untenable. As a result, Marin and Sonoma counties just north San Francisco closed all parks. Oregon’s governor ordered residents to stay home. And Great Smoky Mountain National Park abruptly closed on Tuesday.

This is no longer business-as-usual and we’re going to have to adjust. If wild places can’t be accessed without endangering those who work or visit there, common decency suggests they shouldn’t — even if the federal government doesn’t amend its messaging.

Losing access to some of our most beautiful places right now is a tough one, but the alternative is far worse.

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Where Pandemics Come From — and How to Stop Them

As biodiversity disappears, the risk to human health increases. Experts say we need to protect wild spaces and species to help prevent future outbreaks.

“This continues to be a strange time, but that’s the new normal,” says ecologist Felicia Keesing.

She’s speaking by phone from her backyard on a Monday morning, after spending three days helping to evacuate students from Bard College, in New York’s Hudson Valley, where she teaches. “It feels like the beginning of a new phase for us,” she says.

It feels that way for a lot of us right now. The COVID-19 coronavirus pandemic has upended lives and economies around the world, and experts warn it’s likely to get worse before it gets better.

“This outbreak is pretty much what all of us would have considered the worst-case scenario,” admits Keesing, who has spent the past two decades studying infectious diseases and how loss of species diversity affects human health.

Her research, along with that of a growing number of scientists around the world, shows a clear pattern: As biodiversity decreases and wild spaces vanish, pathogens can run amok, putting humans, wild and domestic animals, and even plants at risk.

No one can say for sure yet if COVID-19 came from any specific species or circumstance, but many experts have theorized that it jumped to humans in China’s so-called “wet markets,” where exotic animal meat has long been readily available for sale.

Previously unknown viruses have emerged under similar circumstances, when humans took disparate animals out of their various native environments and penned them together.

“It’s a mix of biodiversity, but one that was created by people, not nature,” Keesing says. “We create a mix of species that don’t naturally occur together, and then it’s kind of like running an uncontrolled experiment. This virus jumps to that species.” Maybe that’s when a pathogen that we didn’t know about, that hadn’t previously made anyone sick (to our knowledge), suddenly becomes virulent and infects humans. “It was only when we did that to biodiversity that that virus became dangerous.”

These types of markets pose one of the clearest threats to animal and human health, but they’re not the only threat.

A greater risk is posed by the complex mix of habitat loss, population declines in wild species, and population increases among livestock and domesticated animals, invasive species and other more adaptable forms of wildlife.

“All over the world there are fewer and fewer of most kinds of wild creatures and more and more domesticated creatures and humans,” Keesing says. “We’re losing wild species, but we’re doing it at the expense of increases in a very small number of species. Those domesticated species tend to be less diverse. We’re growing a lot of the same crops worldwide and raising a lot of the same animals, which makes for easier targets for pathogens. It’s much easier for them to move around.”

cattle
Cattle in corals. Photo: USDA NRCS Montana (public domain, uncredited)

That’s why the current outbreak has spread so quickly. “The fact that there are 7 billion people on the planet who are genetically very similar has been a boon for the COVID-19 virus, because there are so many of us at such high density that it’s able to spread through the population. We’ll see that play out for other kinds of pathogens, hopefully less virulent ones, maybe affecting wheat, corn, rice or chickens.”

Another factor helping pathogens spread through the modern world is the preponderance of what Keesing calls “weedy species” — this includes domesticated animals, as well as invasives like rats and mice, and even common species such as pigeons.

These “weedy” species have several characteristics in common. “They’re adaptable, they’re abundant, they tend to be small-bodied, and they reproduce quickly at a young age,” she explains. “They have shorter life spans, so they have a lot of turnover in their populations. And they have attributes that we’re still trying to understand that seem to make them better reservoirs for many different diseases.”

That’s why species going extinct and replaced in ecosystems poses a direct threat to humans. “The next emerging infection is more likely to come from a rat than from a rhino, right? We’re creating a planet in which the rats are thriving and the rhinos are disappearing, and when we create environments where those species thrive we’re absolutely affecting our health.”

Even the decline of still-common species can have dangerous side effects. We’ve seen that over the past few decades with opossums in the United States. As their forest habitats have become fragmented, opossum populations have declined — and Lyme disease has increased. Opossums normally eat ticks, and these unique marsupials can resist the pathogen that causes Lyme, but they don’t do very well in altered habitats where “weedy,” invasive mice thrive. These invaders then carry an increased abundance of ticks, and the disease, to humans. (If you’ve ever seen a meme about the value of opossums for tick control, it’s based on work by Keesing and her colleagues.)

The long-term solutions to these problems are simple to state but infinitely harder to accomplish.

For one thing, we need to preserve more wild spaces and the species that live in them. “The bottom line is that humans are taking up more and more space on the planet,” Keesing says. “And whatever it is that we’re using that wild space for, whether it’s a suburban development or an Amazon warehouse, it’s prioritizing human needs over wild creatures. And that is having consequences for us.”

For another, we need to find ways to boost populations of native species. “There’s no magic formula for that,” Keesing says. “You do it by making space for these creatures, and that requires people to make difficult choices. We’re all faced with difficult choices right now.”

In addition to space, keeping those native species in their habitats, and protecting them from wildlife trafficking, remains essential. Many experts say that includes shutting down the exotic wildlife markets in China and around the world.

And we need to keep supporting the science that’s improving our understanding of these issues. Keesing says that’s been a growing, vibrant field of study.

“It’s been a tremendous turn in the last five years especially — but really the last 10 or even 15 years — toward recognizing that the state of the environment affects the transmission of infectious diseases, and it’s led to the burgeoning of a bunch of disciplines or sub-disciplines that connect the health of humans, wildlife and other animals, plants and the environment together. A lot of scientists, and particularly graduate students and postdocs, are really, really inspired by the fact that those linkages exist, and that’s something we could continue to work on.”

These steps may not offer much solace in the face of the current pandemic. But, as many experts are saying, now’s the time to start looking to the next problem down the road — be it another disease, climate change or something else entirely.

“We do have other global challenges, and we’re all going to need to work together, and we’re all going to need to change our behavior,” Keesing says. “That doesn’t mean it hasn’t been painful already, and there’s a lot more to come, but we’ve already seen that we can change our behavior quickly. We can learn from this experience.”

Further Reading

We’ve gathered 14 essential scientific papers discussing how biodiversity loss affects human health.

Keesing, F., Belden, L., Daszak, P. et al. Impacts of biodiversity on the emergence and transmission of infectious diseases. Nature 468, 647–652 (2010). https://doi.org/10.1038/nature09575

Scott R. Granter, Richard S. Ostfeld, Danny A. Milner, Jr, Where the Wild Things Aren’t: Loss of Biodiversity, Emerging Infectious Diseases, and Implications for Diagnosticians, American Journal of Clinical Pathology, Volume 146, Issue 6, December 2016, Pages 644–646, https://doi.org/10.1093/ajcp/aqw197

Mills, J.G., Weinstein, P., Gellie, N.J.C., Weyrich, L.S., Lowe, A.J. and Breed, M.F. (2017), Urban habitat restoration provides a human health benefit through microbiome rewilding: the Microbiome Rewilding Hypothesis. Restor Ecol, 25: 866-872. https://doi:10.1111/rec.12610

Rohr, J.R., Barrett, C.B., Civitello, D.J. et al. Emerging human infectious diseases and the links to global food production. Nat Sustain 2, 445–456 (2019). https://doi.org/10.1038/s41893-019-0293-3

Marilyn J Roossinck, Fernando García-Arenal, Ecosystem simplification, biodiversity loss and plant virus emergence, Current Opinion in Virology, Volume 10, 2015, Pages 56-62, https://doi.org/10.1016/j.coviro.2015.01.005

Cardinale, B., Duffy, J., Gonzalez, A. et al. Biodiversity loss and its impact on humanity. Nature 486, 59–67 (2012). https://doi.org/10.1038/nature11148

Ostfeld, R.S. (2009), Biodiversity loss and the rise of zoonotic pathogens. Clinical Microbiology and Infection, 15: 40-43. http://doi:10.1111/j.1469-0691.2008.02691.x

Montira J. Pongsiri, Joe Roman, Vanessa O. Ezenwa, Tony L. Goldberg, Hillel S. Koren, Stephen C. Newbold, Richard S. Ostfeld, Subhrendu K. Pattanayak, Daniel J. Salkeld, Biodiversity Loss Affects Global Disease Ecology, BioScience, Volume 59, Issue 11, December 2009, Pages 945–954, https://doi.org/10.1525/bio.2009.59.11.6

Rulli, M., Santini, M., Hayman, D. et al. The nexus between forest fragmentation in Africa and Ebola virus disease outbreaks. Sci Rep 7, 41613 (2017). https://doi.org/10.1038/srep41613

Johnson CN, Balmford A, Brook BW, Buettel JC, Galetti M, Guangchun L, Wilmshurst JM. 2017. Biodiversity losses and conservation responses in the Anthropocene. Science 356:270–275. https://doi.org/10.1126/science.aam9317

Kilpatrick AM, Salkeld DJ, Titcomb G, Hahn MB. 2017 Conservation of biodiversity as a strategy for improving human health and well-being. Phil. Trans. R. Soc. B 372: 20160131. http://dx.doi.org/10.1098/rstb.2016.0131

Patil RR, Kumar C, Bagvandas M., Biodiversity loss: Public health risk of disease spread and epidemics. Ann Trop Med Public Health 2017 http://www.atmph.org/text.asp?2017/10/6/1432/222642

A Alonso Aguirre, Changing Patterns of Emerging Zoonotic Diseases in Wildlife, Domestic Animals, and Humans Linked to Biodiversity Loss and Globalization, ILAR Journal, Volume 58, Issue 3, 2017, Pages 315–318, https://doi.org/10.1093/ilar/ilx035

Wilkinson DA, Marshall JC, French NP, Hayman DTS. 2018 Habitat fragmentation, biodiversity loss and the risk of novel infectious disease emergence. J. R. Soc. Interface 15: 20180403. http://dx.doi.org/10.1098/rsif.2018.0403

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Boom: Removing 81 Dams Is Transforming This California Watershed

The innovative project could aid endangered native species — and provide a useful roadmap for other dam-removal efforts.

Removing one gigantic dam can have a massive effect on restoring a river ecosystem.

But bringing down more than 80 smaller dams? That can also cause a transformation.

This spring the Forest Service, aided by U.S. Marine Corps members, will blast apart 13 more dams in the Trabuco ranger district in Southern California’s Cleveland National Forest.

It’s the last phase of a groundbreaking project that began more than five years ago to remove a total of 81 dams from four streams in the mountains of Orange County.

“Nobody’s really taken on a project this large and with this many partners and methods,” says Forest Service fish biologist Julie Donnell, who’s been working on the project.

The mammoth undertaking is designed to help boost populations of native aquatic species — most importantly Southern California steelhead (Oncorhynchus mykiss), which are federally listed as endangered.

It may also be a crucial learning tool due its sheer scope. Last year an estimated 90 dams were removed across the country, and nearly a quarter of those were in the Cleveland National Forest. That makes what’s happening in California the place to watch as organizations plan for other multi-dam removal efforts around the country.

“Looking at what the Forest Service did is a really smart way for other agencies to begin to think about their infrastructure,” says Serena McClain, the director of river restoration at the nonprofit American Rivers, which tracks dam-removal efforts. “The Forest Service is showing that the federal government can lead on this and demonstrate the possibility for the private sector and municipalities.”

In addition to the work in the national forest itself, the ecological success of the project hinges on a downstream effort to remove two more barriers that prevent steelhead from reaching the forest as they migrate from the ocean.

The two projects have brought together a diverse, and unlikely, coalition of transportation departments, federal agencies, environmental nonprofits, local governments, and even the U.S. Marine Corps to help complete an ocean-to-headwaters restoration of more than 35 miles.

“This addresses one of the major threats to endangered southern steelhead,” says Sandra Jacobson, the South Coast regional director of California Trout, which is leading the downstream effort. “Once you open up the rivers, it allows a tremendous change in the accessibility of steelhead to their historical habitat so that they can go in and reproduce.”

A Group Effort

Large dam removals, like those on the Klamath River in California and Oregon, or the hotly debated Snake River dams in Washington, get lots of media attention. But smaller dam removals are quietly happening all across the country.

In the past 20 years around 1,100 dams have been removed in the United States — many of them aging, unsafe structures that had outlived their usefulness.

That’s the story in the Cleveland National Forest, too.

Not a lot is known about the early history of the dams there, but most were likely built in the 1930s by the Civilian Conservation Corps, a public work program started to help Americans rebound from the Great Depression, says Kirsten Winter, a biologist in the Cleveland National Forest who has spearheaded the dam-removal project. It’s not unusual for dams to be built in national forests, but this high a concentration of small dams may be a regional phenomenon in Southern California forests.

Most of these original dams would likely have washed away over time, but in the Cleveland National Forest, Orange County increased the size of the dams using native rock and mortar from the 1940s through the mid-1970s. Gates were lowered in the spring and raised in the fall to control the flow of the rivers. The impounded water was used mostly for fish stocking and recreation and was also available for fire suppression.

But eventually, Winter says, the dams aged, and the county got tired of maintaining them. Many washed out in storms. A few were removed in the 1980s by the county, and the gates were taken out of the remaining dams. Most fell back under Forest Service jurisdiction.

In recent years it became clear that some of the dams posed safety hazards and impeded fish migration. As part of a federal recovery effort to recover populations of endangered southern steelhead, a plan was developed to remove the 81 dams in the San Juan watershed on Upper San Juan Creek, Trabuco Creek, Holy Jim and Silverado Creek.

Projects of this scope require environmental assessments under the National Environmental Protection Act. Because the Forest Service had the forethought to take a watershed view of the project from the get-go they only needed to complete one environmental assessment for the removal of the whole kit and caboodle, which helped make the permitting process more efficient.

With that in place, the dam-removal work began in December 2014. The project has a $1.2 million price tag, but the majority of funding hasn’t come from the Forest Service itself.

before and after
Before and after dam removal on San Juan Creek in the Cleveland National Forest. Photos by Julie Donnell, USFS

The project has generated a lot of interest and a diverse array of partners, including California Department of Transportation, Federal Highways Administration, Orange County Parks, Orange County Transportation Authority, the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, California Department of Fish and Wildlife, and the U.S. Marine Corps. The coalition has brought funds, organizational support, technical knowledge and a lot of energy to the process.

“People are really pretty enthused about removing dams,” says Winter.

Despite all the partners, it’s still been a learning experience, she adds, because the dams vary so much in size and accessibility. Some are just a few feet high and 10 feet wide. Others reach 14 feet in height and stretch up to 100 feet across.

To breach the dams and break apart the mortar, crews employed a wide range of techniques. For sites near roads, they bought in conventional excavators. Steeper canyons required the use of a nimble “spider” excavator. Explosives took down a few dams where appropriate, while other places required sledgehammers and jackhammers. An extra bit of muscle (organizational and otherwise) came from a partnership with Marines from nearby Camp Pendleton. Corps members have helped remove 31 dams since 2018.

Ecological Benefits

The biggest benefactors of the dam removals in the Cleveland National Forest will be steelhead — a type of salmonid. Like salmon, steelhead are anadromous, spending their time in both freshwater streams and the ocean. But unlike salmon that return to their natal headwater streams to spawn and die, steelhead will often spawn more than once.

They’re also a key indicator species, says Jacobson. “When they disappear, that means there are probably multiple issues within a watershed.”

In the San Juan, dams are one of them.

spawning steelhead
Endangered Southern California steelhead spawning in Maria Ygnacio Creek in Santa Barbara County, Calif. Photo: Mark H. Capelli, WCR (CC BY-NC-ND 2.0)

“Dams create a very artificial situation,” says Winter. “It’s not just that they hold water, but they retain sediment and then they create these weird splash pools below.”

Without the dams, the streams are able to create a more natural gradient and pool structure. That’s good for other native wildlife like the arroyo toad and the arroyo chub, both federally listed as endangered, as well as the California newt, a California Species of Special Concern.

While the process of removing the dams can be a bit messy, “we’ve seen no negative effects to the habitat or to species due to the dam removal,” says Donnell.

One of the biggest concerns with any dam removal is ensuring that any trapped sediment released from behind the structures doesn’t cause ecological problems as it moves downstream. But Donnell says they’ve timed the removals to account for that and the streams naturally carry large sediment loads during storm events.

“We’re actually doing some of dams in phases rather than all at one time because of the sediment load that’s being held behind them,” she says.

In areas where dams have been removed, Donnell has already noticed an improvement. “The bedload and sediment transport have been able to naturally flow once again,” she says. “And the channel is starting to adjust back to a natural state.”

A Connected Watershed

As groundbreaking as the Cleveland National Forest’s efforts are, the benefits for steelhead hinge on the downstream initiative.

Just five miles inland from Doheny State Beach, around the town of San Juan Capistrano, two barriers on Trabuco Creek block steelhead from 15 miles of upstream spawning habitat in the San Juan Creek watershed.

A quarter-mile-long concrete flood-control channel runs underneath five bridges, including the north- and southbound lanes of Interstate 5. The drop and the speed of water flowing through the hardened channel inhibits steelhead from making it through the gauntlet.

Two barriers for fish passage on Trabuco Creek. Photo: Mike Wier / CalTrout

The second barrier sits a half-mile downstream, where another 20-foot drop under a bridge for the Metrolink regional railway poses an insurmountable roadblock for steelhead.

To solve both of these problems, California Trout is leading the multiagency design effort for a technical fish passage that will enable steelhead to navigate these obstacles using staggered weirs. At the I-5 obstacle, an additional fish transport channel will provide steelhead with an express lane to avoid the flood control channel and pass under the array of bridges.

The organization is working with fellow nonprofit Trout Unlimited, as well as Orange County’s flood control district and public works office, the city of San Juan Capistrano, California Department of Transportation, and the Metrolink railroad association.

“We just received funding to complete the design,” says Jacobson. The fish passages are expected to be completed around 2023 to 2025.

It’s one part of a larger regional effort by the South Coast Steelhead Coalition, which consists of more than 35 organizations working to recover stable populations of the species in Southern California. Removing barriers to fish passage is a key element of the strategy, as are ensuring adequate water quantity and quality and removing nonnative species that compete for limited resources.

But there’s one more objective: helping native rainbow trout. These resident trout are the same species as steelhead, but with a different life history — they don’t migrate to the ocean. Since steelhead have been blocked from the upstream waters for nearly a century, resident trout populations have suffered from genetic isolation.

Only two resident trout populations remained in the region and one had to be emergency evacuated by a bucket brigade following the Holy Fire in 2018, which burned across the forest and threatened the water quality in the streams.

Aerial view of I-5 barrier
A flood control channel that passes under Interstate 5 in San Juan Capistrano, Calif. blocks fish migration. Photo: Mike Wier / CalTrout.

The removal of all the stream barriers — on and off the forest — will provide an opportunity for aquatic species to be more resilient. The wildfire is a perfect example of why that’s needed, says Jacobson.

“It really gives the aquatic species the mobility they need to move around in response to drought, floods and wildfires,” she says. “It’s good for all sorts of species, too, not just fish.”

Ripple Effect

With the dam removals in the Cleveland National Forest nearing completion, Donnell says she’s hoping to soon begin presenting her data and methodologies so others can learn from the project.

“We’ve definitely heard from other forests and other districts wanting to know how we went about it, because this is new,” she says.

McClain says American Rivers has been sharing the project’s success story because it’s a good example of how to think holistically about managing water and restoration opportunities for aquatic ecosystems.

after
San Juan Creek in the Cleveland National Forest shortly after a dam was removed. Photo: Julie Donnell, USFS

But it also makes sense fiscally. Why spend money maintaining dams we don’t need?

“Even from a federal budget management perspective, we should be looking at where there may be projects on the federal books that are no longer serving a purpose,” she says.

Thanks to the coordinated efforts in the San Juan watershed, southern steelhead will have a better chance of survival. But efforts to try and aid their recovery also have a larger benefit.

“We’re not only restoring their environment, but also ours,” Jacobson says. “We’re actually improving the rivers overall.”

And in the process, they may have established a model for mass dam removal across the country.

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Beat the COVID-19 Blues With These Wildlife and Nature Livecams

Just because we’re all self-isolated doesn’t mean we have to isolate ourselves from nature.

With the coronavirus continuing to spread and self-isolation becoming the norm, it feels more important than ever to embrace the power and beauty of nature. Sure, we can’t travel as much these days, but the modern world can still bring the natural world to us.

We’ve picked some great webcams around the globe to help keep you sane in these trying times. Depending on the time of day or night you’re reading this, they should offer you some solace and wonder for the long weeks ahead.

Tembe Elephant Park

One of several great livecams from Explore.org. This one brings you to a very popular watering hole on the Mozambique border.

Decorah Eagles

A rare opportunity to see bald eagles up close and relaxed in Decorah, Iowa.

Gorilla Forest Corridor

You may or may not see any critically endangered Grauer’s gorillas, but this is a heck of a peaceful site in the Democratic Republic of Congo.

Coral City

An urban reef in Miami, Florida that’s part habitat, part science experiment and part art project. You never know who might swim by.

Cornell Lab’s Panama Fruit Feeder-cam at Canopy Lodge

Pay attention. All kinds of colorful birds fly by to sample the wares that scientists have left out for them at this conservation site in Panama.

Big Sur Condors

Two webcams from the Ventana Wildlife Society showcasing the amazing California condors in their care. The birds aren’t always on camera, but it’s worth sticking around to see them.

Otters and More at Monterey Bay

A neverending parade of sea otters, birds, harbor seals and other marine mammals will entertain you at this feed, courtesy of the Monterey Bay Aquarium.

Bison Watering Hole at Grasslands National Park

Again, you never know what wildlife you’ll witness onscreen, but the beauty of this site in Saskatchewan can take your breath away.

New York University’s Hawk Cam

Oh wow, an urban nest whose residents are mini-celebrities. This includes an active chat feature, so it’s one more way to connect with fellow enthusiasts.

Jellyfish at Monterey Bay Aquarium

Who knew jellyfish were so Zen? This livecam is about as relaxing as it can possibly get. Get lost in the gentle motion.


There’s more! We found one more essential livestream that we can’t embed but it’s worth opening a new browser tab to see:

Red Wolf enclosure cam — Check out one of the rarest predators on the planet, courtesy of the conservation breeding program at the Wolf Conservation Center, which also maintains several other great webcams.


Don’t find something you like above? You can also try going for a walk to see what wildlife or natural beauties you can find in your neighborhood. After all, self-isolation doesn’t mean we have to keep ourselves indoors all day and all night.

While you’re at it, bring your phone and share photos of what you see on iNaturalist or other citizen-science platforms — that’s one more way to stay connected with your community and avoid feelings of isolation. And you can help collect important scientific information along the way.

No matter what you do, please just stay safe. The world will still need you when all of this is over.

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