April 28, 2017
By: Ashley Tuggle
Ecologists and ectobiologists, meteorologists and meterologists, geologists and geochemists, biomedical researchers and mechanical engineers, everything in between, and regular science enthusiasts came out in force on April 22nd in support of the March for Science. Great Ecology’s own intrepid crew in San Diego struck out for the day to march in support of scientific research and science education, revel in the diversity of our local community, and send a message.
What do we want?
When do we want it?
After rigorous peer review!
What can you expect from a bunch of nerds?
The March for Science was a nationwide march to celebrate science, bring awareness to the need for basic scientific research in all areas, and promote government policy and action rooted in sound science. While the march in Washington, D.C. was the main march, thousands of people turned out for the San Diego march where the pre-march rally included talks from Scripps Institute professors Ralph Keeling, PhD and Lynne Talley, PhD on the impacts of climate change and rising sea levels, a biomedical PhD student who went into his field in the hopes of finding a cure for his daughter’s blindness, and three students from local schools who had won their local science fairs. The youngest of the winners, Ryan Alfonso, summed things up nicely: Even if it’s something small, science can matter. His research into a simple color change for giant balls placed in California Reservoirs to help reduce evaporation is an important step in increasing the efficiency of this effort and conserving a precious resource in the state.
The scientific method is designed to help us answer questions that can make a very real impact the local, regional, and global level.
The People’s Climate March (started in 2014) is next on the spring schedule. Whether it’s because you’re interested in adaptation under our changing climate, feel strongly about environmental justice issues related to climate, or because you find the science of climate change fascinating in its own right, there’s a reason to find a march in your city on Saturday, April 29th. We all live on one planet and there’s no escaping our climate, whatever it happens to be. Research into understanding climate shifts and climate adaptation will be keys in the coming decades to protecting our water, our heath, our food, and our way of life.
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April 21, 2017
By: Liz Clift
I used to teach an introductory version of watershed science to school children. Depending on how much time I had with these young people, this might include diverse topics such as where our water came from, the water cycle, and/or the movement of pollutants and/or particulates through a system.
In the summer camp version—which meant I had them for a full week instead of a maximum of 90 minutes like I had them during the school year—the curriculum included an exploration of the water cycle that involved several hands-on experiments, giving students the opportunity to explore how sediment falls out of water, to attempt to use different household materials to filter out visible particulates and pollutants, pH testing, examining water from different sources under a microscope and more, with the curriculum modified depending on the age of participants.
At the end of the week, we’d pull out a scale model version of our local watershed. It came with props that were part of our watershed, including people, animals (livestock and wild), cars, train tracks, houses, and lots of trees. Sometimes I’d pull out some clay for the students to use to hold certain things (houses, trees) in place—which was an impactful way to show how landslides could happen because of a soaking rain.
We’d go over how to replicate a gentle rain, a soaking rain, a downpour using the tools provided*, and then the participants would get to work (the model included a drain that I’d position over a bucket, and hope the bucket didn’t get knocked aside, or worse, over!). This allowed them to see how different amounts of rainfall could alter our watershed. After a while, I’d introduce a pollutant (in the form of food coloring). Sometimes we’d decide as a group to put it in a particular place, and wait to see when the water reached it. Other times, I’d introduce it without fanfare at points in the watershed and ask the young people to describe what was happening.
Afterward, we’d talk about what they’d observed about types of rainfall, about flooding, about what places tended to fill with water first and why, about the introduction of pollutants. We’d talk about ways we could individually help limit pollution in our watershed, and about any feelings the activity brought up. If we had time, they were then free to return to any activity we’d done over the week, including the scale model watershed (always the most popular).
Helping young people understand the dynamics of a watershed—and for that matter, helping them conceptualize their watershed—can be an important component of making science and conservation tangible. It can be especially useful in arid environments where most of the water comes from snowmelt, as it was in the place I taught this class (replicated with crushed ice, when time allowed).
A few years later, I taught a similar class in another state in a three-week long summer camp. I didn’t have a scale model of the watershed. Instead, I had the ability to take the young people on field trips. We did many of the same activities, interspersed with exploring our watershed.
That camp class, of all the ones offered, was the one the young people kept clamoring to come back to—not because they had any special affection for me, but because we did things like look at pond water, the backbone of a catfish, and sand under a microscope; performed pH tests; watched tadpoles develop; and made bracelets representing the water cycle. For field trips, we traveled to a nearby glacier, to a eutrophic creek, to a local pond, to an “Aqua Golf” course, to a neighborhood waterpark. With the oldest group of participants (rising 5th and 6th graders), I had long conversations about water waste and conservation that the participants brought up among themselves and then to me.
Some of these oldest campers did additional research on their own, and taught back to their families. In this way, they became watershed ambassadors, which is an important step to encouraging community-scale conservation and restoration support.
*Misters, pipettes, funnels, small measuring cups, etc.Leave a comment
April 17, 2017
By Liz Clift
Whether you’re adding carbon-rich materials to soil for ecological restoration purposes, trying to figure out how to make your compost more efficient, or perhaps figuring out why last year’s chop-and-drop mulch in your garden isn’t breaking down the way you expected it to, it’s important to understand carbon to nitrogen ratios (C:N).
Carbon and nitrogen are both necessary for plant growth—and an imbalance can lead to slower or stunted growth, or make an area more hospitable to certain types of weeds. In addition, the relative levels of carbon or nitrogen on a site impact how quickly mulch—including grass clippings, leaves, crop residue, etc.—decomposes.
How does this factor into restoration ecology?
One of the hurdles of restoration ecology is what to do with pioneer species (aka weeds) we don’t want colonizing a piece of land. Vigorous weed growth can be a sign of high levels of nitrogen in the soil, relative to carbon. By increasing the levels of carbon in the soil, it’s possible to effectively manage nitrophilic weeds (such as cheatgrass, Bromus tectorum), even with a reduced (or no!) use of herbicides.
By focusing on increased soil health through increased carbon supplementation, it is possible to shift the competitive balance. Increasing soil carbon mimics later successional stages of soil ecology, which generally favors native plant growth. Often, native plants can more easily establish and thrive in low nitrogen environments, which allows them to begin the process of out competing nitrogen-loving weed species—some of which produce many more seeds than native species.
Sawdust and wood chips, when used as an incorporated soil amendment, provide opportunities to increase carbon in the soil, as do fire-regimens that allow for controlled burns of prairies or woodlands. Controlled burns, unlike wildfires, generally burn at a lower temperature, which leaves the microbiota of the soil intact. Although controlled burns are not always understood as a management technique by the public at large, it’s critical that we remember fire used to be a standard part of most ecosystems.
If we face public resistance to incorporating woodchips, sawdust, or a fire-regimen (or other forms of carbon supplementation), we will do well to remember that this is an opportunity to talk with people about soil health and why we’re doing what we’re doing. For those of us who work in grasslands, it’s especially important to note that increasing carbon in the soil has been shown to be effective at facilitating prairie restoration.
Great Ecology employees have successfully applied carbon supplementation as part of oil pad reclamation, and are currently applying the process at some Denver-area park sites as a means to reduce weed species proliferation and reduce operations and maintenance costs.
Part II of this blog will cover the role of carbon and nitrogen in agricultural restoration and compost.Leave a comment
March 16, 2017
By Liz Clift
Editor’s Note: Earlier this year, we used social media to post condolences about the death of Rob Stewart (1979-2017), a marine conservationist and documentary filmmaker who died in a diving accident off the coast of Florida, at Alligator Reef. Stewart was best known for his 2006 documentary Sharkwater.
I recently watched Sharkwater, a documentary about sharks, and was immediately captivated by the beauty of the world under sea that Rob Stewart captured—as well as the devastation caused by the commercial shark fin industry.
Stewart once said, “Conservation is the preservation of human life on earth, and that, above all else, is worth fighting for.” In the course of the documentary, it’s clear that he believed this, because viewers witness some (though not all) of the challenges he faced while making the film—including risks to his life. He created Sharkwater as a way of raising awareness about sharks (and how, despite what the creators of Jaws and Sharknado might have us believe, they are not all that dangerous. In fact, you’re more likely to be killed by a vending machine than a shark.).
There’s a memorable scene where Stewart is on the ocean floor, cuddling a shark. There’s a breath-taking view of hundreds of hammerhead sharks schooling. There are also multiple scenes depicting the brutality of the shark fin industry, and statistics that will break your heart.
In the documentary, Stewart makes the compelling argument that sharks play a vital role in the survival of humankind, and life on earth as we know it. An understanding of how predators change landscapes indicate he’s probably right (think: reintroduction of wolves into Yellowstone).
Sharks, as Stewart points out, are apex predators and have existed for millennia almost unchanged. As apex predators, they provide evolutionary pressure to fish (and are likely the reason that some fish form tight schools, much as herd animals on land evolved to tighten up to avoid predation) and help maintain fish populations at a state that can be supported by the marine ecosystem.
This in turn helps ensure that plankton, which produce the majority (estimated 70%) of the oxygen we rely on, are not overconsumed. With fewer higher level predators, primary and mid-level consumers that include a heavy diet of plankton could cause the plankton population to crash.
That would not spell good things for the planet, or for us.
When Stewart died, he was reportedly making a sequel to Sharkwater. He also made the 2012 film Revolution and the 2015 film The Fight for Bala.
If you haven’t seen Sharkwater yet, and have the ability to access it (it’s available on a number of streaming services, including ones that do not require a subscription), take the time to watch it. The Sharkwater website also contains a teacher’s guide for teaching this film to secondary school students, which may also be useful for home viewing, especially if you watch the film with teens.
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March 7, 2017
By Liz Clift
Many of the models on the Seasteading Institute website showed solar energy capture, with solar fields taking up part of the city, or covering rooftops. Unfortunately, it is still difficult to store solar energy, but depending on the location of the floating city perhaps this would be only a minor problem (if it was located in a place in the world with abundant sunshine).
As long as we’re talking about solar energy—what does this look like without solar panels? The Seasteading institute suggests that since the tropical oceans absorb 3x the amount of energy each day that the world currently consumes, there are opportunities for research, development, and harnessing. The Institute also suggests that Ocean Thermal Energy Conversion provides an opportunity for generating power (for the floating city as well as land-based nations).
There’s also the potential for capturing wave energy. The Bureau of Ocean Energy Management (BOEM) notes that wave energy, at least along the coast of the United States has tremendous potential as an energy source. “[T]he total wave energy resource along the outer continental shelf [was estimated] at 2,640 terawatt hours/year (TWh/yr).” The energy potential in this is significant as just one TWh/yr can supply a little shy of 94,000 average US homes with power annually. However, wave energy cannot be fully harnessed due to things like shipping, commercial fishing, and environmental concerns in sensitive areas.
Harnessing wind energy is something we’ve already started to do, and with a fair amount of success. Depending on the location, wind energy has a lot of potential (pun intended) for this type of project. It would be fairly easy to set up wind generation stations on the roofs of buildings or as other parts of the landscape.
Compost piles can be used to heat water or to generate biogas (through the use of a biodigester) for use in cooking. If done properly, either of these options will have little to no odor, and provide an opportunity for dealing with the floating city’s waste.
My colleague brought up the question of what happens to sea life beneath these cities, and I think that really depends. If the cities are static (i.e. more or less permanently moored), this has the potential to radically alter the way that sea life looks below them, since fewer-to-no UV rays would be able to extend into those parts of the ocean. The materials used would also impact the suitability of these cities to become anchor points for crustaceans, seaweeds, and other ocean life that prefers to anchor to a particular place rather than drifting or floating.
We may have some reference points in the form of oil and gas (O&G) platforms, which are generally designed to last 20 to 30 years, though some are maintained to last longer. The topsides of most O&G platforms include living quarters that consist of an average of 20 rooms, with thirty beds, a cooking facility, a galley, a landing pad for helicopters and other features. Most fixed structure standing oil platforms can stretch as deep as 1,500 feet, and may stretch across several pilings or ‘legs.’ The British Petroleum Oil Rig in the Gulf of Mexico that lead to the deep-water horizon disaster was 400 feet by 250 feet, roughly the size of two football fields, and supported a crew of 130 people. Some platform structures are even larger, in fact many of today’s platforms are essentially small cities equipped with cafeterias, lounges, and some even have small movie theatres.
While the aforementioned O&G structures are fairly typical to the industry as we’ve understood it in the past, there may also be a model in the world’s largest ship ever built, and the first floating liquefied natural gas platform, which is scheduled to begin drilling later this year. Although this is a moveable facility, the ship is expected to remain moored for 25 years. The sheer size of these structures alter the ocean life around them—but they also provide new opportunities for colonization, which leads to species congregation near the structure and/or greater species diversity.
On the other hand, if these cities are unmoored (truly floating cities), that changes the impact to sea life immediately beneath them—and likely decreases the risk of an area receiving little or no UV light. It also increases the risk that these floating cities would drift into deeper waters, where wave power could change, and where ocean currents could sweep them far adrift (and therefore outside of the range of mainland emergency services, among other things). There would also be the risk that truly unmoored floating cities would break apart in rougher waters without ways to reunite or end up in the path of a barge as they drifted into a shipping channel. They might even end up in the territorial waters of a hostile nation or face other, unexpected interpersonal or geopolitical problems.
These considerations must be taken into account to keep the residents of the floating city safe.
While the reality of a floating city might be years (or longer) away, it’s interesting to consider some of the problems (and solutions!) which might arise from such a place. Floating cities, in some ways, force us to consider what it might be like to dramatically restructure our lives—and potentially on a more permanent basis than what occurs with remote research or O&G facilities.
Floating cities also provide an opportunity to expand our conception of what SLR planning (and resiliency planning, in general) could look like and how technology, engineering, ecology, and a spot of idealism might play a role in shaping these types of places.
Floating cities are not exactly a new concept—but so far, none have come to fruition in the ways conceived by this project. As mentioned earlier, O&G platforms, in many ways, serve as self-contained cities for short periods of time. People have also approached this idea as a way to divest themselves from global politics or economics—for reasons focused on self-governance, participatory governance, and economic freedom.
But, these projects have, so far, failed to become reality because of the tremendous expense associated not only with the conceptual design and development, but also with the actual construction of such places. This price tag will need to be addressed, as will the idea of who, exactly gets to live in places with such a high price tag. Will these options truly be open to people who lose their homes and livelihoods due to sea level rise?
Although I’ve focused on floating cities for the purpose of this blog post—because of the MOU signed between the Seasteading Institute and French Polynesia—the research for this blog has also taken me on an adventure of exploring how these floating structures might look as research centers or farms, and the potential opportunities these options present as well (algae farming, anyone?).
What have I missed? I would love to hear your feedback through our Facebook page.Leave a comment
February 28, 2017
By Liz Clift
Editor’s Note: This is a 3-part blog on the future of seasteading, that will post on consecutive Tuesdays. Check out Part I.
Food & Water
The Velella mariculture research project is testing an unanchored drifter pen in waters between 3 and 150 miles off the Big Island of Hawai’i. The project seeks to grow fish in the open ocean without leaving an environmental footprint. The pen is placed into eddies, which move it around, and thus minimize impact compared to mariculture that takes place in a static location. Additionally, the mesh on the pen is made of brass, which eliminates biofouling, the formation of microbial layers on a surface (which can have a corrosive impact on other metals as well as decrease water flow through the area).
A solar-and-salt water farm in the south Australian desert provides an examination of how agriculture might be transformed. The system uses no soil, pesticides, fossil fuels, or groundwater, but does collect rainwater from its roof. The greenhouse uses seawater-soaked cardboard to regulate hot summer temperatures and solar heating in the winter to keep conditions from becoming too cold. The farm currently grows only tomato plants, which are rooted in coconut husks instead of soil. The farm uses a thermal desalination system to distill water for use. The leftover saltwater is mixed with seawater then returned to the sea once salt levels have reached a baseline. This agricultural practice could provide an ideal alternative to traditional terrestrial-based farming, and would be of particular use to a city based on water.
Abalone farming, as practiced in the Monterey Bay, may offer another solution to how food is produced for inhabitants of the floating island. Abalone, unlike many other animals raised by mariculture, are herbivores and will happily munch along on freshly harvested kelp while living under piers, wharfs, or similar structures.
Seaweed is quickly becoming a trendy food—even when it’s not holding together some sushi! A cookbook released late last year offers beautiful photography (and probably really tasty recipes; I live inland and so don’t partake in the seaweed revelry like I might if I lived on a coast, even though notably many of the recipes do call for dried seaweed) and makes the argument that seaweed, when responsibly harvested, is one of the world’s most sustainable and nutritious food choices.
Several of the conceptual floating cities on the Seasteading Institute’s website featured biodomes (it wasn’t just a bad 90s movie!) or biospheres. Biodomes, or other greenhouses, dedicated to growing food crops could also provide a number of jobs, and could be set up as aquaponic systems or more traditional agriculture systems, using technology similar to the tech that’s been put in place by the south Australian greenhouse mentioned above. In addition, these spaces could also act as living classrooms for students since on a floating island space is likely to be limited!
Green roofs (which could allow people to garden) and water capture also offer opportunities for sustainable food and water use on a floating city. Green roofs also contribute to thermoregulation of the buildings upon which they rest, and can be used to produce food, recreational space, or to keep beneficial insects, such as pollinators. Roof space also provides an opportunity for water catchment, particularly during storm events. While this water could be processed to make it potable, it could also be used to help maintain garden systems, used for greywater within the household (i.e. – to flush a toilet), or be channeled through pipes as part of a cooling system.
It’s tempting to think that when we flush the toilet (throw something in the trash/composter/recycling bin) it just disappears. This is one of the tricks of living in a society that makes a lot of the work of cleaning up waste invisible (after all, landfills and waste water treatment plants are often out of sight and out of mind, as are the people who move our waste). However, things like composting toilets, or just plain composting provide options for sustainably dealing with waste. In addition, filter feeders such as oysters and clams could be used as part of a water treatment process (though, depending on what exactly these bivalves filtered—and for how long they did it—they may or may not be edible afterward).
Earthships, a type of passive solar house that is built from a combination of natural and upcycled materials, were pioneered as a solution for moving “off-the-grid.” These homes provide: thermal/solar heating/cooling; electricity based on solar or wind power; contained sewage treatment; water harvest; and food production. Earthships have been integrating waste management options for decades, through indoor and outdoor water treatment cells, and by flushing toilets using non-potable, grey water instead of fresh. Depending on the particular design of the floating city, this type of treatment plan may still be an option.
Other types of waste would also need to be considered: would this city have a way to move trash off their floating island? If they aim for higher levels of self-sufficiency, they would need to consider that—and how that alters manufacture, imports, etc. as well as become incredibly creative about re-use.
In many ways, the question of re-use in an isolated, (relatively) self-sufficient city is answered in various works of science fiction, including though certainly not limited to: young adult novels like The 100 and Across the Universe; the post-apocalyptic worlds depicted in Earth Abides, Station Eleven, The Fifth Sacred Thing, and The Dead Lands; and dystopian novels including Parable of the Sower and Parable of the Talents. Although certainly none of these books will hold the answer, science fiction has had a way of shaping our present (and likely, our future).
This is the question I’m currently most curious about. How a floating city survives a hurricane or typhoon seems perplexing—especially as I think about the onslaught of large, high waves. Would the city be able to disband temporarily and flee for safer waters, as one diagram on the Seasteading Institute indicates? Would the materials be pliable enough to withstand strong winds, while rigid enough to prevent capsizing? How would mooring the city impact this?
One design, Artisanopolis, suggests a concrete barrier that would help protect against heavy storms while also providing a recreation area. The design is modular, allowing for components of the city to be moved (via something like a tug boat), if necessary, although it is unclear if the concrete wall, which resembles a levee, would move.
Corrosion & Fatigue
Corrosion is a chemical reaction that ultimately weakens metallic structures—rust is a familiar example of corrosion (of iron and its alloys, which include steel). Corrosion is dependent upon the composition of the metal, pH, temperature, and other factors. The floating city—and its myriad components—would need to be designed or maintained to resist corrosion, especially since corrosion can increase on metal surfaces that have higher porosity. Protections that slow the corrosion process could include protective coatings and sacrificial anodes (metals that are designed to corrode faster) that would need to be maintained.
Fatigue relates to how “tired” a structure becomes through repeated experience with a cyclical action (like waves). For an example of how fatigue works, think about what happens as you bend a paperclip back and forth. Eventually the metal breaks (but even if it doesn’t in the moment, you know it isn’t as strong because you could feel it becoming more pliable). If the floating city was moored in some way, the design would need to include planning for fatigue of these structures in the face of ocean currents or waves.
These things, along with how the city is designed to weather storms, and how self-sufficient it is in practice will all impact how long a floating city could last. Perhaps the Rigs-to-Reefs program can provide us some insight on potential ways future floating cities would be decommissioned if that ever needed to happen—especially if components of the city are made of galvanized steel as are most O&G platforms or are otherwise designed to continue to support marine life as soon as they are installed.
In addition, better understanding how marine life adapts to man-made ocean structures could help us predict how these floating cities will interact with the ecosystem as well as provide valuable information about the impact of corrosion and fatigue on both deep water and shallow water structures. This may be especially important as different locales are determined for different floating cities—the one proposed for French Polynesia, for instance, would be located in a relatively protected bay, but deep water structures have also been proposed and would face different challenges.
Continue to Part III!Leave a comment
February 21, 2017
By Liz Clift
Editor’s Note: This is a 3-part blog that will post on consecutive Tuesdays.
When most of us think about resiliency planning for sea-level rise (SLR), we generally think about it in terms of coastal cities and islands. As ecologists and landscape designers, we consider options to buffer the coast from storms, ways to build parks that can withstand occasional tidal inundation, develop plant palettes with a higher salt tolerance, and consider the benefits of various building structures.
However, there is a group of people who are considering seasteading (similar to homesteading, but in the ocean) as a solution. Seasteading would, ideally, create floating, man-made, self-sufficient islands, and its gaining attention worldwide. In fact, French Polynesia recently signed a Memorandum of Understanding (MOU) with San Francisco’s Seasteading Institute to begin the development of the world’s first self-sufficient floating city. Seasteaders, according to the Seasteading Institute website are:
“a diverse global team of marine biologists, nautical engineers, aquaculture farmers, maritime attorneys, medical researchers, security personnel, investors, environmentalists, and artists. We plan to build seasteads to host profitable aquaculture farms, floating healthcare, medical research islands, and sustainable energy powerhouses.”
Their first step in the process of creating “blue” jobs and of moving the idea of seasteading into reality will be the Floating Cities Project. Since the idea of a floating city is still conceptual, there isn’t a set idea of how large these structures would be; if they would be moored or anchored in some way versus truly floating; or how long they would be designed to last and the necessary maintenance and associated costs that upkeep would require.
The floating city that may one day exist in French Polynesia would be located in a fairly tranquil bay. But, the idea moving from the conceptual and design stages into actualization is dependent on a number of factors including the results of feasibility studies, environmental impact assessments, and concurrence with the governments of French Polynesia and France.
Most of the model floating cities on the Seasteading Institute website are small, which would limit how much (or what type) transportation is needed. People could easily get around on foot, by bike, or by boat (i.e. sailboats, kayaks, canoes). Perhaps the island city would want an emergency vehicle or two, but I suspect alternatives could be found even for these cases.
A floating city presents a number of design challenges and opportunities, and the Seasteading Institute ran a design contest (you can see the submissions on their site) to generate ideas for how this could work. I spoke for a while with one of our landscape architects about some of the challenges that might be present with this type of project, and he raised concerns about what would happen to the sea life beneath the city.
The idea of a self-sufficient city that floats in the sea can also raise questions about how food will be grown or cultivated, what will happen to waste, how energy will be produced and captured, how it will fare in storms, how to build a structure that is moderately resistant to corrosion and fatigue, and other concerns including about how sea life will be impacted. Unless otherwise noted, answers below are not based on anything put out by the Seasteading Institute, but instead are a compilation of how those questions that might begin to be answered. As a note, my attempts at answers are based on input from colleagues, articles I’ve read, videos I’ve watched, and what I understand about permaculture design.
In the following installations, which will be posted the next two Tuesdays, I attempt to respond to some of the opportunities and challenges (maybe you would call them a concern) that such a city would present. I don’t address them all—politics, for instance, appears to be a point of challenge/opportunity, especially if these floating cities have some level of sovereignty—because they fall far outside of the work we do here, at Great Ecology.
Subsequent posts will cover:
Continue to Part II!Leave a comment
February 16, 2017
By Liz Clift
I grew up in an amorphous place: the unincorporated county that became incorporated by a major city. In my childhood, there was a former cow pond that teemed with fish and turtles, with copperheads, with tadpoles and pollywogs that grew into frogs and toads, with leaches and crawdads and who knows what other invertebrates.
In no small part because food was abundant, the pond was frequented by Canada geese (Branta canadensis), mallards (Anas platyrhynchos), red-breasted mergansers (Mergus serrator), great blue herons (Ardea Herodias), belted kingfishers (Megaceryle alcyon), snowy egrets (Egretta thula), coots (Fulica americana), green herons (Butorides virescens), and red-tailed hawks (Buteo jamaicensis)—and that’s to say nothing of the occasional visitors who blew in on hurricanes or appeared as part of migratory patterns, or the birds that were just generally common to the region.
Perhaps this is why my mom liked to participate in the Great Backyard Bird Count, which takes place every year (this year it lasts from tomorrow, Friday, February 17 – Monday, February 20; this is the 20th anniversary). The Great Backyard Bird Count asks that people observe the birds near them for as little as 15 minutes on one or more of the four days, and then report their sightings at birdcount.org. This is a citizen-scientist project that helps researchers at the Audubon Society and the Cornell Lab of Ornithology learn more about birds, how we can protect them, and what we can do to maintain or improve the environment we share.
You don’t have to be an expert to participate in the Great Backyard Bird Count (GBBC, if you like cool acronyms or are looking for it on social media). You just have to register with your name and an email address, and report your findings for each time and/or place that you spend time bird-watching. If you’re not an expert at identifying birds, birdcount.org suggests several online databases to help you ID the birds you see (or hear). Even if you can’t identify the bird, you can probably get close (a hawk, for instance, doesn’t look especially like any non-raptor, and the folks who are coordinating this information understand how tricky the Accipiter genus is), and that’s perfectly fine.
The Great Backyard Bird Count can be done with your family, your co-workers, your BFFs, before or after brunch, or on your own on a hike—those are just a few suggestions. You’re also invited to take pictures, and submit them as part of the bird count; if you’re inclined to take pictures, like I am, I imagine this could make the time even more enjoyable. The picture below is a northern cardinal, photographed by Priscilla Morris of Tennessee, which was one of the honorable mentions in the bird behavior category last year.
The Great Backyard Bird Count is also an opportunity to take a few minutes to slow down and appreciate the world around you—regardless of whether that’s the middle of a city, in the countryside, at a wildlife refuge, or somewhere else entirely. You can participate from anywhere in the world!
If you decide to participate, we would love to hear about your experience or see your photos on Facebook!Leave a comment
February 14, 2017
By Liz Clift
Last year, I wrote about bonobos, and The Bonobo Project. Bonobos, unlike the other great apes (humans included) have never been known to kill each other in the wild, which can make them especially interesting to people who study the behaviors of humans compared to other great apes.
Bonobos are endangered—estimates for wild populations are as low as 5,000, in part because of habitat destruction and habitat encroachment—which was made even worse by a civil war. They naturally only live in one part of the world—the Congo Basin of the Democratic Republic of the Congo. And, unfortunately, not enough people know about them. A lack of awareness about a species can mean a lack of money going toward research and conservation efforts.
The Bonobo Project, however, seeks to change this. February 14th is World Bonobo Day (because bonobos are most definitely lovers—people who study and work with bonobos talk about “the bonobo handshake” in reference to how bonobos use sexual contact as a means of building bonds and settling disagreements) and by sharing information about bonobos, you can help more people learn about bonobos.
Here are some articles where you can learn even more about bonobos—which will make you an absolute treat to be around this Valentine’s Day and beyond (we’re sure of it!):
Bonobos will need researchers, conservationists, and lots of regular folks helping raise awareness about their plight if they are to continue to survive and thrive.
Want to spread even more bonobo-love? Share one of these articles and use the hashtags #WorldBonoboDay or #IBonoboYou.Leave a comment
February 9, 2017
By Agustina Tierno, Fellow from Young Leaders of the Americas Initiative, Uruguay
Editor’s Note: Agustina worked with Great Ecology for several weeks in the 4th quarter of 2016. This was part of an initiative launched by Barack Obama, called the Young Leaders of the Americas Initiative (YLAI), a program designed to empower entrepreneurs and innovative civil society leaders to strengthen their capacity to advance their entrepreneurial ideas and effectively contribute to social and economic development in their communities. In early October 2016, 250 fellows (of 4,800 potential fellows) from Central and Latin America traveled to the United States for 40 days, where they developed their projects, were mentored by companies related to their fields, and participated in work and training. The program culminated in Washington D.C. where they had the opportunity to share their work with the whole group of entrepreneurs, from multiple countries, and authorities in the US. Agustina was one of the five Uruguayans who participated in YLAI. She was mentored by Great Ecology. Read about her experience below.
October the 11th, 2016, I arrived in Great Ecology. I was received by Jessa Spainhower and we talked about our backgrounds, expectations, and possibilities of cooperation.
I must say this first day was a bit strange. I came to the USA after 40 days in Finland developing another project regarding education and arrived to work in a very important firm because of a new program (YLAI) launched by Barack Obama, with no time in between to process the experience; therefore, I felt a bit lost, not knowing what was it all going to be about.
It didn’t take me long to feel absolutely grateful to have been matched with this amazing firm.
My friend and colleague, Fiorella Bellora, and I are the co-founders of Bio-Observatories, an interdisciplinary design office specializing in sustainable architectural design solutions for natural landscapes. Working in Great Ecology for a month provided a unique opportunity to get to know, from the inside, how one of the most recognized firms specializing in habitat restoration works.
The first week, I had the chance to meet everyone at the office, not only the San Diego team, but also the New York and Denver teams. I was also invited to participate in the weekly meeting in which everyone shares the advances of the projects they are involved with. All this allowed me to confirm the professionalism of the office, as well as the competence of each one of the professionals working there, regardless their specific field of expertise.
In the following weeks, I was invited to different internal presentations, and to monitoring in-situ some ongoing projects. All those instances were formative for me. I got to learn a lot about different techniques, procedures, and aspects to consider when operating in natural areas. I also got to learn about American norms in this field and possible responses on regulations. I got to see how professionally, efficiently, and well an ecosystem restoration could occur.
I was surprised when visiting a wetland restoration, a project Great Ecology started some months before my visit; it seemed work started at least a year earlier considering the significant restoration work that had been performed.
In my last days, I had to make a presentation about Bio-Observatories for a pitch competition involving the YLAI fellows. For this presentation I was inspired and supported by Great Ecology’s team. They were all willing to share their knowledge and followed the development of my work until the final day; I even had the opportunity to present to them and received useful feedback.
I couldn’t be more happy to have had the opportunity to work in such an extraordinary company, with experienced and competent professionals, led by an inspiring entrepreneur, Mark Laska, PhD, committed to such an important cause, and with a pleasant atmosphere in which everyone helps each other and evolves together.
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