Well, it's been a tough decision. Environmental Esotericism had a good run on Blogspot. But I've decided that, with how few views and comments it's been getting, that the best decision would be to move this blog to a new hosting site. Don't worry, though--you'll still be able to see all the old posts I made here, and the first thing I'm going to do when I set up this blog at its new home is make an archive of the posts from the old version.
See you there!
--Gray Stanback
Wednesday, October 18, 2017
Monday, August 21, 2017
Moonstruck
Today marks the first time since 1979 that a total eclipse was visible from the North America. It thus goes without saying that the eclipse became a subject of celebration, with pre-planned viewing events, special advertisements, novelty posters, souvenirs, and TV coverage all created to cash in it. But while we humans only notice the moon when it does something unusual, many animals live their lives by the rhythm of the moon all the time.
One animal in which the effects of the moon are well-documented is the California grunion. The California grunion is a silvery fish about six inches long, and for most of its life it is unremarkable. During certain full and new moons every year, when the tide is at its highest, the grunion deliberately beach themselves on the shore. There, they mate and lay eggs in the wet sand before being washed out to sea again by the waves. About ten days later, the eggs (those that have not been eaten by predators, at least) hatch, and the young fish enter the sea again.
Similarly, the streamlined spinefoot, a member of the rabbitfish family (so-named because of their rabbit-like teeth and their appetite for plants) always lays its eggs when the moon is in its last quarter. It is unknown how the phases of the moon trigger the fish's reproductive drive, but when the moon is at the proper phase the male fish become flushed with hormones.
Lunar effects on land animals are much less well understood. One major exception is the fly Clunio marinus, which lives along the coasts of northern Europe. This insect has long been used as a model organism for the study of cyclic systems in living creatures. Its mating swarms, like the mating seasons of the grunion and the spinefoot, are timed with phases of the moon.
How do eclipses affect animals? That varies. We do know that during solar eclipses, birds will often stop singing, and nocturnal insects like crickets and will start chirping. But grunion, spinefeet, and Clunio flies have survived for millions of years despite the changes in the cycles of the moon, so clearly they have been able to weather whatever abnormalities of the lunar cycle can throw at them. Eclipses, for them, are simply a fact of life that they must deal with. And deal with it they do--it's what they're good at.
Deliberately washing themselves ashore to lay their eggs, California grunion are one of a number of animals whose activities are timed by the cycle of the moon--just as those of human eclipse-watchers are.
One animal in which the effects of the moon are well-documented is the California grunion. The California grunion is a silvery fish about six inches long, and for most of its life it is unremarkable. During certain full and new moons every year, when the tide is at its highest, the grunion deliberately beach themselves on the shore. There, they mate and lay eggs in the wet sand before being washed out to sea again by the waves. About ten days later, the eggs (those that have not been eaten by predators, at least) hatch, and the young fish enter the sea again.
Similarly, the streamlined spinefoot, a member of the rabbitfish family (so-named because of their rabbit-like teeth and their appetite for plants) always lays its eggs when the moon is in its last quarter. It is unknown how the phases of the moon trigger the fish's reproductive drive, but when the moon is at the proper phase the male fish become flushed with hormones.
Lunar effects on land animals are much less well understood. One major exception is the fly Clunio marinus, which lives along the coasts of northern Europe. This insect has long been used as a model organism for the study of cyclic systems in living creatures. Its mating swarms, like the mating seasons of the grunion and the spinefoot, are timed with phases of the moon.
How do eclipses affect animals? That varies. We do know that during solar eclipses, birds will often stop singing, and nocturnal insects like crickets and will start chirping. But grunion, spinefeet, and Clunio flies have survived for millions of years despite the changes in the cycles of the moon, so clearly they have been able to weather whatever abnormalities of the lunar cycle can throw at them. Eclipses, for them, are simply a fact of life that they must deal with. And deal with it they do--it's what they're good at.
Deliberately washing themselves ashore to lay their eggs, California grunion are one of a number of animals whose activities are timed by the cycle of the moon--just as those of human eclipse-watchers are.
Friday, June 30, 2017
Ecosystem Spotlight: Antarctic Seas
Desolate Antarctica is the most uninhabited continent on Earth. Its barren ice fields are home to no large land animals and no plants. Those creatures that do inhabit the Antarctic continent, such as penguins and seals, depend on the ocean for sustenance, and it is in the ocean that the majority of Antarctic life is to be found. Unlike the Arctic, Antarctica is a solid landmass surrounded by ocean, albeit one divided into many large sub-continents. These are joined by huge ice sheets, underneath which dwells an ecosystem unlike anything else in the world.
The near-freezing temperatures of Antarctica's waters have forced many animals to evolve special strategies to cope with the cold. Whales and seals all have a thick layer of fat under their skin called blubber, while penguins have densely packed feathers that trap air and serve as a sort of "bubble-wrap" to keep out the cold (polar bears and sea otters, which live in the Arctic, have fur that does the same thing).
Creatures that stay in the cold ocean their whole lives have even more unique ways of surviving the cold. Many fish that live in Antarctica produce a naturally occurring antifreeze chemical in their blood to prevent it from freezing. These fish all belong to a single group, the icefishes, or Notothenioidei, which have come to be the dominant fish in the seas of Antarctica. However, they are by no means the only animals living there.
The clear, oxygen-rich water of the Antarctic ocean encourages invertebrates to grow to gigantic sizes. Giant starfish, over a foot across, swarm around holes in the ice, scavenging on scraps left by penguins and seals, and searching for dead fish and crustaceans. Isopods the size of mice--distant relatives of the familiar garden pillbug-- crawl along the seabed, eating whatever detritus they can find. These creatures are preyed on by other invertebrates, such as octopuses, which in turn are eaten by fish and by seals and whales. Even the smaller invertebrates are remarkable, including the only species of sea anemone to grow on icebergs.
The very largest of Antarctica's giant invertebrates--and the largest invertebrate on the planet-- is the colossal squid, which can grow up to forty feet in length and weigh in at half a ton. Never seen alive until 2007, the colossal squid has the largest eyes of any animal, measuring 11 inches across. Its tentacles are tipped with sharp hooks instead of suckers, which it uses to seize prey.
While a great deal of ink has justifiably been spilled over the melting of Antarctica's icecap, less attention has been paid to the threat faced by its marine ecosystem. As the planet is warmed, this ecosystem, adapted as it is to life in subzero temperatures, will be in grave danger.
Unique sea creatures like this jellyfish inhabit the cold ocean surrounding Antarctica. But as the icecaps melt and the oceans are warmed, how safe is their home?
The near-freezing temperatures of Antarctica's waters have forced many animals to evolve special strategies to cope with the cold. Whales and seals all have a thick layer of fat under their skin called blubber, while penguins have densely packed feathers that trap air and serve as a sort of "bubble-wrap" to keep out the cold (polar bears and sea otters, which live in the Arctic, have fur that does the same thing).
Creatures that stay in the cold ocean their whole lives have even more unique ways of surviving the cold. Many fish that live in Antarctica produce a naturally occurring antifreeze chemical in their blood to prevent it from freezing. These fish all belong to a single group, the icefishes, or Notothenioidei, which have come to be the dominant fish in the seas of Antarctica. However, they are by no means the only animals living there.
The clear, oxygen-rich water of the Antarctic ocean encourages invertebrates to grow to gigantic sizes. Giant starfish, over a foot across, swarm around holes in the ice, scavenging on scraps left by penguins and seals, and searching for dead fish and crustaceans. Isopods the size of mice--distant relatives of the familiar garden pillbug-- crawl along the seabed, eating whatever detritus they can find. These creatures are preyed on by other invertebrates, such as octopuses, which in turn are eaten by fish and by seals and whales. Even the smaller invertebrates are remarkable, including the only species of sea anemone to grow on icebergs.
The very largest of Antarctica's giant invertebrates--and the largest invertebrate on the planet-- is the colossal squid, which can grow up to forty feet in length and weigh in at half a ton. Never seen alive until 2007, the colossal squid has the largest eyes of any animal, measuring 11 inches across. Its tentacles are tipped with sharp hooks instead of suckers, which it uses to seize prey.
While a great deal of ink has justifiably been spilled over the melting of Antarctica's icecap, less attention has been paid to the threat faced by its marine ecosystem. As the planet is warmed, this ecosystem, adapted as it is to life in subzero temperatures, will be in grave danger.
Unique sea creatures like this jellyfish inhabit the cold ocean surrounding Antarctica. But as the icecaps melt and the oceans are warmed, how safe is their home?
Thursday, June 1, 2017
Vive La France?
As of today, the United States is no longer a participant in the Paris Climate Accords, an agreement signed on April 22nd, 2016 to collectively limit greenhouse gas emissions by the year 2020. Over 195 nations signed the Accords, and initially the United States was one of them. It was rightfully hailed as one of the great accomplishments of environmentalism.
However, even before he assumed the Presidency, Donald Trump was a staunch opponent of the Paris Climate Accords. He held the belief--a belief many other CEOs of large companies tend to share-- that a regulation of greenhouse gas emissions would force companies to not be as productive as they might otherwise be. While not intending to debate the merits of these claims, it should be pointed out that in the past year alone, more jobs have been opened up in solar power and other renewable power sources than in nonrenewable power sources such as coal.
Today, the decision was made. Greenhouse gas emissions in the United States will no longer be regulated by the Accords. The potential effects of this could be devastating. To put it another way, China--the world's largest producer of greenhouse gases-- did sign the Accords, and is ramping up its production of wind turbines and solar panels. How ironic, then, that Trump has called global warming "a hoax invented by the Chinese", when they are clearly quite worried about it!
During his speech in which he formally withdrew from the Paris Climate Accords, Trump asserted that "this agreement is less about the climate and more countries gaining a financial advantage to the States." Needless to say, this is false. The Accords are not intended to give the participant nations economical advantages over one another--at least, not the nations that actually participate. Ironically, by withdrawing from the Accords, Trump has actually made the US more vulnerable to foreign competition, not less. Other countries' clean energy markets will continue to produce new jobs, while the US will continue wasting money on its obsolete fossil fuel industry.
But what can be done? Can we trust the companies themselves, on whose behalf Trump exited the Paris Climate Accords, to regulate their own greenhouse gas emissions? 70% of adult US citizens support the Paris Accords, and many of them are lobbying for companies to regulate their own emissions. Time will tell if they are successful.
However, even before he assumed the Presidency, Donald Trump was a staunch opponent of the Paris Climate Accords. He held the belief--a belief many other CEOs of large companies tend to share-- that a regulation of greenhouse gas emissions would force companies to not be as productive as they might otherwise be. While not intending to debate the merits of these claims, it should be pointed out that in the past year alone, more jobs have been opened up in solar power and other renewable power sources than in nonrenewable power sources such as coal.
Today, the decision was made. Greenhouse gas emissions in the United States will no longer be regulated by the Accords. The potential effects of this could be devastating. To put it another way, China--the world's largest producer of greenhouse gases-- did sign the Accords, and is ramping up its production of wind turbines and solar panels. How ironic, then, that Trump has called global warming "a hoax invented by the Chinese", when they are clearly quite worried about it!
During his speech in which he formally withdrew from the Paris Climate Accords, Trump asserted that "this agreement is less about the climate and more countries gaining a financial advantage to the States." Needless to say, this is false. The Accords are not intended to give the participant nations economical advantages over one another--at least, not the nations that actually participate. Ironically, by withdrawing from the Accords, Trump has actually made the US more vulnerable to foreign competition, not less. Other countries' clean energy markets will continue to produce new jobs, while the US will continue wasting money on its obsolete fossil fuel industry.
But what can be done? Can we trust the companies themselves, on whose behalf Trump exited the Paris Climate Accords, to regulate their own greenhouse gas emissions? 70% of adult US citizens support the Paris Accords, and many of them are lobbying for companies to regulate their own emissions. Time will tell if they are successful.
Thursday, May 25, 2017
Ecosystem Spotlight: Tsingy
Madagascar lies about 300 miles off the eastern coast of Africa, and is home to thousands of plants and animals that live nowhere else in the world. In many cases, such as the lemurs, tenrecs, vanga shrikes, and mantella frogs, entire radiations of species have evolved from a single ancestor that arrived there long ago, and expanded to colonize every ecosystem on the island. Out of all of Madagascar's ecosystems, probably the most bizarre and little-known, even today, are the ranges of razor-sharp limestone peaks known to the natives as Tsingy.
By their very nature, the Tsingy are difficult to explore. The word means "place where one cannot walk barefoot" in Malagasy (the main indigenous language of Madagascar), and traditional rock-climbing equipment are unsuitable for them. This inhospitality to humans has ensured that the endemic animals and plants of the Tsingy have stayed undisturbed. New discoveries are still trickling in even today: a bat in 2005, a frog in 2007, a dwarf lemur in 2000. One of the largest recently-discovered animals of the Tsingy was a species of lemur named after British comedian John Cleese.
The Tsingy are also, however home to one of the smallest vertebrates in the world, the dwarf chameleon. Less than two inches long and weighing less than a quarter, it inhabits the vegetation on the lower levels of the Tsingy, where it hunts for small insects.
The Tsingy are a layered skyscraper of habitats. The very topmost layers--the jagged peaks that are clearly visible when one looks at the area from above--are almost devoid of life, save for some scarce lichens and mosses, and whatever birds and insects may visit them. Lower down, plants grow in pockets of soil that accumulate in the sides of the peaks, and at the very bottom shrubs and small trees push their way towards the light in between the towers of limestone. It is in these lower layers that most animals also live.
The Tsingy are an ecosystem with no direct equivalent anywhere else in the world, so they--even more so than the rest of Madagascar, which is truly saying something--need to be preserved at all costs. They provide an indispensable part of the "alien world" image of Madagascar, while at the same time seeming like something out of an alien world themselves.
High atop a Tsingy, several gnarled trees grow. Although they may look inhospitable, Tsingys are refuges for a wide variety of animals and plants.
By their very nature, the Tsingy are difficult to explore. The word means "place where one cannot walk barefoot" in Malagasy (the main indigenous language of Madagascar), and traditional rock-climbing equipment are unsuitable for them. This inhospitality to humans has ensured that the endemic animals and plants of the Tsingy have stayed undisturbed. New discoveries are still trickling in even today: a bat in 2005, a frog in 2007, a dwarf lemur in 2000. One of the largest recently-discovered animals of the Tsingy was a species of lemur named after British comedian John Cleese.
The Tsingy are also, however home to one of the smallest vertebrates in the world, the dwarf chameleon. Less than two inches long and weighing less than a quarter, it inhabits the vegetation on the lower levels of the Tsingy, where it hunts for small insects.
The Tsingy are a layered skyscraper of habitats. The very topmost layers--the jagged peaks that are clearly visible when one looks at the area from above--are almost devoid of life, save for some scarce lichens and mosses, and whatever birds and insects may visit them. Lower down, plants grow in pockets of soil that accumulate in the sides of the peaks, and at the very bottom shrubs and small trees push their way towards the light in between the towers of limestone. It is in these lower layers that most animals also live.
The Tsingy are an ecosystem with no direct equivalent anywhere else in the world, so they--even more so than the rest of Madagascar, which is truly saying something--need to be preserved at all costs. They provide an indispensable part of the "alien world" image of Madagascar, while at the same time seeming like something out of an alien world themselves.
High atop a Tsingy, several gnarled trees grow. Although they may look inhospitable, Tsingys are refuges for a wide variety of animals and plants.
Saturday, April 15, 2017
Ecosystem spotlight: Tepuis
Now that the Eco-Tainment series is over with, I've been trying to decide what the next "series" on this blog should be. Now I've made my decision. This new series will focus on little-known, weird, or endangered ecosystems around the world, with each entry covering the ecosystem as a whole and the creatures that live there. So without further ado, here's the first one.
Tepui. It sounds like something you might say after you've sneezed, but it's actually the name of one of the most bizarre geological features on the planet. Tepuis are tall plateaus of sandstone that rise above the northeastern Amazon rainforest, in Venezuela and Colombia. Because of their isolation, they serve much the same ecological role as islands do, serving as a refuge for hundreds of animals and plants found nowhere else in the world. Just a few of the things that live on tepuis include carnivorous pitcher plants, rock-clinging bromeliads, and frogs that give birth instead of laying eggs.
The tepuis have long been an inspiration for writers. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's classic science-fiction novel The Lost World imagined dinosaurs surviving on top of one of these isolated plateaus. In the 2009 animated movie Up, a waterfall on a tepui (named "Paradise Falls" and based on the real Angel Falls) becomes the final destination for an old man who wishes to keep a promise to his wife.
Studying the tepuis is often easier said than done. The sheer height of the cliffs makes them hard to climb up, and often the tops are obscured by thick clouds. In some cases, the only way to get reliable images of the very top is by using radar carried aboard airplanes.
However, expeditions to the the tepuis almost always reveal new species. In 2016, an expedition into the limestone caves of one of the largest tepuis resulted in the discovery of several species of blind cave fish, which had been isolated from their nearest relatives for millions of years. Simply by virtue of their impenetrable design, the tepuis are one of the few ecosystems on Earth that still has a great deal left to explore.
A tepui rises high over the rainforest below it like a stone skyscraper. Difficult to navigate and explore, tepuis are one of the last frontiers of the study of biodiversity
Tepui. It sounds like something you might say after you've sneezed, but it's actually the name of one of the most bizarre geological features on the planet. Tepuis are tall plateaus of sandstone that rise above the northeastern Amazon rainforest, in Venezuela and Colombia. Because of their isolation, they serve much the same ecological role as islands do, serving as a refuge for hundreds of animals and plants found nowhere else in the world. Just a few of the things that live on tepuis include carnivorous pitcher plants, rock-clinging bromeliads, and frogs that give birth instead of laying eggs.
The tepuis have long been an inspiration for writers. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's classic science-fiction novel The Lost World imagined dinosaurs surviving on top of one of these isolated plateaus. In the 2009 animated movie Up, a waterfall on a tepui (named "Paradise Falls" and based on the real Angel Falls) becomes the final destination for an old man who wishes to keep a promise to his wife.
Studying the tepuis is often easier said than done. The sheer height of the cliffs makes them hard to climb up, and often the tops are obscured by thick clouds. In some cases, the only way to get reliable images of the very top is by using radar carried aboard airplanes.
However, expeditions to the the tepuis almost always reveal new species. In 2016, an expedition into the limestone caves of one of the largest tepuis resulted in the discovery of several species of blind cave fish, which had been isolated from their nearest relatives for millions of years. Simply by virtue of their impenetrable design, the tepuis are one of the few ecosystems on Earth that still has a great deal left to explore.
A tepui rises high over the rainforest below it like a stone skyscraper. Difficult to navigate and explore, tepuis are one of the last frontiers of the study of biodiversity
Wednesday, March 8, 2017
Hornswoggled
This morning, a tragedy occurred at a zoo near Paris. Vince, a male white rhinoceros living at the Thiory Zoo, was shot to death by an unidentified assailant, who then proceeded to cut off one of his horns. The killing cast a shadow over zoos around the world, as it was the first time that an animal at a European zoo had been killed by poachers. The poachers--who as of now have not been arrested--apparently escaped with one of Vince's horns before they could target the zoo's other two rhinos, Grace and Bruno. Vince was five years old, young for a rhino, which can live to be up to sixty. His death highlights a serious blind spot in conservation today: are zoos really doing all that they can to help endangered species?
The main target of poachers who hunt rhinoceroses is their horns. Rhinoceros horns are valued for their "medicinal" properties in China, as an aphrodisiac in Vietnam, and as ceremonial daggers in Yemen. As far back as medieval Europe, ground rhinoceros horn was thought to be an antidote against poisons (this may be one of the inspirations of the mythical unicorn). None of these uses can remotely justify the continued slaughter of hundreds of rhinos, and the poachers who use them as an excuse to make money are every bit as guilty as the people who consume rhinoceros products.
Today, there are five species of rhino (white, black, Indian, Sumatran, and Javan), and their populations together total less than 40,000 animals. The northern white rhinoceros is a possible sixth species, since it has been isolated from the other populations of the white rhinoceros for over 1 million years, but there are only three individuals of it left.
Captive breeding in zoos has been the life-line for rhinos. While poaching and deforestation have killed them off in the wild, zoos have allowed these animals to survive and breed safely, hopefully to a point where they can once again roam wild. Unfortunately, as Vince's death shows us, even zoos are not foolproof. As a matter of fact, it is the third time this year that an animal in a zoo has been killed by a trespasser. The other two (a hippo and a crocodile) were acts of vandalism with no financial motive, but they all highlight a disturbing fact. In order for zoos to be truly safe sanctuaries for endangered species, they will need to improve their security.
For endangered animals like the white rhinoceros, zoos offer the best hope of recovery. But what if zoos aren't as safe as we thought?
The main target of poachers who hunt rhinoceroses is their horns. Rhinoceros horns are valued for their "medicinal" properties in China, as an aphrodisiac in Vietnam, and as ceremonial daggers in Yemen. As far back as medieval Europe, ground rhinoceros horn was thought to be an antidote against poisons (this may be one of the inspirations of the mythical unicorn). None of these uses can remotely justify the continued slaughter of hundreds of rhinos, and the poachers who use them as an excuse to make money are every bit as guilty as the people who consume rhinoceros products.
Today, there are five species of rhino (white, black, Indian, Sumatran, and Javan), and their populations together total less than 40,000 animals. The northern white rhinoceros is a possible sixth species, since it has been isolated from the other populations of the white rhinoceros for over 1 million years, but there are only three individuals of it left.
Captive breeding in zoos has been the life-line for rhinos. While poaching and deforestation have killed them off in the wild, zoos have allowed these animals to survive and breed safely, hopefully to a point where they can once again roam wild. Unfortunately, as Vince's death shows us, even zoos are not foolproof. As a matter of fact, it is the third time this year that an animal in a zoo has been killed by a trespasser. The other two (a hippo and a crocodile) were acts of vandalism with no financial motive, but they all highlight a disturbing fact. In order for zoos to be truly safe sanctuaries for endangered species, they will need to improve their security.
For endangered animals like the white rhinoceros, zoos offer the best hope of recovery. But what if zoos aren't as safe as we thought?
Thursday, February 23, 2017
A History of Environmental Entertainment: Part 2
Now that we have looked over the history of environmental in popular fiction, a suitable conclusion to this series is to look forward and ask ourselves, what next? How do the writers of today reach out to their prospective audiences, and how do they do so without coming off as heavy-handed and superficial?
To know where to go in the future, it helps to know where you have been. Both of the major environmental movements of the past--the ones in the 1970s and the 1990s--were triggered by clear, obvious threats to nature and civilization. And therein lies the difference between environmentalism in the past and today. The burning of the Cuyahoga River in 1969 and the Exxon Valdez oil spill in 1989 really scared people; incremental increases in global temperature and gradually melting ice caps don't have the same effect.
So what's an aspiring writer of environmental stories to do? If we look at the stories that have been reviewed so far, the ones that have held up best are those that do not actively demonize the people responsible for destroying the environment. Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind, WALL-E, and The Lorax are all good examples of this.
People don't respond well in general to being told that they are "part of the problem", and react better to being told how they can help. This is something the best environmental stories all understand, which is why they have aged so well. Many environmental stories make the mistake of simply lecturing their audience on the error of their (perceived) ways, rather then offering constructive criticism to their consumers. This is especially problematic since the people who consume these stories in the first place tend to already care about the environment, and don't need to be reminded to.
At the same time, equating a real-world problem to a fictional villain has the effect of causing the problem to seem less "real". The best environmental stories are ones that show the issues in various shades of grey. I don't mean that they should try to justify the destruction of nature, but they should make it clear that environmentalism, like everything else in the world, is not black and white.
The next generation of environmental fiction will be fundamentally different from the way it was in the past. It will need to connect with the more complex mentality people have regarding the environment today. But it will still need to convey the same basic message as it always has, ever since its beginning.
To know where to go in the future, it helps to know where you have been. Both of the major environmental movements of the past--the ones in the 1970s and the 1990s--were triggered by clear, obvious threats to nature and civilization. And therein lies the difference between environmentalism in the past and today. The burning of the Cuyahoga River in 1969 and the Exxon Valdez oil spill in 1989 really scared people; incremental increases in global temperature and gradually melting ice caps don't have the same effect.
So what's an aspiring writer of environmental stories to do? If we look at the stories that have been reviewed so far, the ones that have held up best are those that do not actively demonize the people responsible for destroying the environment. Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind, WALL-E, and The Lorax are all good examples of this.
People don't respond well in general to being told that they are "part of the problem", and react better to being told how they can help. This is something the best environmental stories all understand, which is why they have aged so well. Many environmental stories make the mistake of simply lecturing their audience on the error of their (perceived) ways, rather then offering constructive criticism to their consumers. This is especially problematic since the people who consume these stories in the first place tend to already care about the environment, and don't need to be reminded to.
At the same time, equating a real-world problem to a fictional villain has the effect of causing the problem to seem less "real". The best environmental stories are ones that show the issues in various shades of grey. I don't mean that they should try to justify the destruction of nature, but they should make it clear that environmentalism, like everything else in the world, is not black and white.
The next generation of environmental fiction will be fundamentally different from the way it was in the past. It will need to connect with the more complex mentality people have regarding the environment today. But it will still need to convey the same basic message as it always has, ever since its beginning.
Friday, February 17, 2017
End of an Era
Established in 1970, the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) was, for 47 years, the chief agency of conserving and preserving nature within the United States. Today, however, that has come to an end. Steve Pruitt, a member of the Republican Party who has a long history of opposing government environmental regulations, is now the leader of the EPA.
Pruitt's appointment to this position represents a turn for the worse for American environmental policy. Currently the main function of the EPA is to enforce environmental law and to ensure that agricultural and industrial activities meet ecological standards. Under the new administration, this could cease to be the case. But because of Pruitt's known connections with big oil companies, it seems unlikely that he will honor the traditional role of the EPA. Instead, it is possible that he will use his authority to roll back the regulations that the EPA has spent most of its existence building up in order to benefit the big companies he has a vested interest in.
The list of species threatened by curbing and dismantling the EPA is essentially too long to list, but it includes many that have only recently recovered from endangered or threatened status. Ironically, this includes the national animal of the United States, the bald eagle. In the process of "making America great again", the nation may yet kill off its own symbol.
What can be done about this? Already, many people are showing resistance to this change. A "rogue EPA" Twitter account has cropped up, and likewise many environmentalists are staging protests--either physically or on the internet--in order to make their voices heard. However, protests can only accomplish so much. To affect real change, the most important thing for environmentalists--or anyone-- to do is to organize as a group and develop a coherent platform of their own with broad base appeal. Needless to say, this takes time--such things always do. But then again, the EPA wasn't created overnight.
Pruitt's appointment to this position represents a turn for the worse for American environmental policy. Currently the main function of the EPA is to enforce environmental law and to ensure that agricultural and industrial activities meet ecological standards. Under the new administration, this could cease to be the case. But because of Pruitt's known connections with big oil companies, it seems unlikely that he will honor the traditional role of the EPA. Instead, it is possible that he will use his authority to roll back the regulations that the EPA has spent most of its existence building up in order to benefit the big companies he has a vested interest in.
The list of species threatened by curbing and dismantling the EPA is essentially too long to list, but it includes many that have only recently recovered from endangered or threatened status. Ironically, this includes the national animal of the United States, the bald eagle. In the process of "making America great again", the nation may yet kill off its own symbol.
What can be done about this? Already, many people are showing resistance to this change. A "rogue EPA" Twitter account has cropped up, and likewise many environmentalists are staging protests--either physically or on the internet--in order to make their voices heard. However, protests can only accomplish so much. To affect real change, the most important thing for environmentalists--or anyone-- to do is to organize as a group and develop a coherent platform of their own with broad base appeal. Needless to say, this takes time--such things always do. But then again, the EPA wasn't created overnight.
Wednesday, February 8, 2017
A History of Environmental Entertainment: Part 1
From the 15 works that have been selected, it should be possible to grasp what some of the overarching trends have been in environmental-themed works of fiction. However, it would help even more to put those trends in a historical perspective, and that is what I will be doing now.
Although some earlier works, such as Green Mansions, had aspects of environmental themes, the genre truly came into its own in the early 1970s. This was a time of civil unrest in the United States, dissatisfaction with the government, and protests against segregation, the Vietnam War, and traditional sex roles. The newly emerged environmental movement, with its rejection of traditional values of industry and economy, fit in nicely in this era. In addition to the passing of the Environmental Protection Act, Clean Air Act, and Clean Water Act, a number of classics of environmental fiction were published during this time, such as The Lorax. Many of these works still hold up surprisingly well even today.
Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end, and so it was with the environmentalism fad of the 1970s. As the 1970s gave way to the 1980s, and Ronald Reagan's "Morning in America" took hold, environmentalism began to slip away from the public consciousness. Throughout the 1980s, very few works of fiction dealing with environmental themes were published, because as far as the general public was concerned it was no longer relevant. A notable exception was Hayao Miyazaki's splendid animated film Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind, but that, of course, did not come from the United States.
The genre would see a revival in the 1990s, thanks in part to a series of highly publicized industrial disasters in the late 1980s, such as the Chernobyl nuclear meltdown and the sinking of the Exxon Valdez. However, the works of environmental fiction published in the 1990s were in many ways less well-informed and more superficial than their 1970s counterparts. Often, as was the case with FernGully and Captain Planet, the issues of environmentalism were reduced to two-dimensional battles between good and evil. Gone were the days of more nuanced works like The Lorax.
In the end, the second golden age of environmental fiction ended, just as the first had, and today it remains a niche genre. But this brings us to the question for part two: how can aspiring writers make their environmental works both enticing and accurate?
Although some earlier works, such as Green Mansions, had aspects of environmental themes, the genre truly came into its own in the early 1970s. This was a time of civil unrest in the United States, dissatisfaction with the government, and protests against segregation, the Vietnam War, and traditional sex roles. The newly emerged environmental movement, with its rejection of traditional values of industry and economy, fit in nicely in this era. In addition to the passing of the Environmental Protection Act, Clean Air Act, and Clean Water Act, a number of classics of environmental fiction were published during this time, such as The Lorax. Many of these works still hold up surprisingly well even today.
Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end, and so it was with the environmentalism fad of the 1970s. As the 1970s gave way to the 1980s, and Ronald Reagan's "Morning in America" took hold, environmentalism began to slip away from the public consciousness. Throughout the 1980s, very few works of fiction dealing with environmental themes were published, because as far as the general public was concerned it was no longer relevant. A notable exception was Hayao Miyazaki's splendid animated film Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind, but that, of course, did not come from the United States.
The genre would see a revival in the 1990s, thanks in part to a series of highly publicized industrial disasters in the late 1980s, such as the Chernobyl nuclear meltdown and the sinking of the Exxon Valdez. However, the works of environmental fiction published in the 1990s were in many ways less well-informed and more superficial than their 1970s counterparts. Often, as was the case with FernGully and Captain Planet, the issues of environmentalism were reduced to two-dimensional battles between good and evil. Gone were the days of more nuanced works like The Lorax.
In the end, the second golden age of environmental fiction ended, just as the first had, and today it remains a niche genre. But this brings us to the question for part two: how can aspiring writers make their environmental works both enticing and accurate?
Saturday, February 4, 2017
Eco-Tainment #15: The Lorax
This is it. This is the last Eco-Tainment entry. After this, I'm going to wrap the series up by writing a two-part blog essay about general trends in environmental fiction, and what we can expect in the future. So what will we be looking at today? Quite possibly one of the most famous environmental works of all time--Dr. Seuss's The Lorax. First published in 1971, The Lorax is told mainly in flashback. The narrator is the Once-ler, who is never seen except for his hands.
The Once-ler tells how, long ago, he arrived in the land where the story takes place and began cutting down the forests of truffula trees to make "thneeds"--essentially a stand-in for just about any superfluous consumer product imaginable. He is repeatedly warned about the consequences of what he does by the Lorax, a short, hairy creature who "speaks for the trees" and is displeased at the Once-ler's wasteful abuse of the forest and its resources. Yet the Once-ler continues to ignore the Lorax, until finally the truffle trees are all cut down, the animals are gone, and the sky is dark with smog.
Finally he realizes the error of his ways, but it is too late.
The beauty of The Lorax is that unlike so many other works of environmental fiction, it does not resort to demonizing those who pollute and destroy nature. Even though he makes one disastrous decision after another, the Once-ler never truly comes off as a villain. He is simply doing his job, and several times brings up important questions that even environmentalists must consider. Even the fact that his face is hidden factors into this; this drives home the point that pollution is not caused by specific people, but can be caused by anyone.
I chose to end my Eco-Tainment series with The Lorax for the same reason I began it with Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind. Both of these works portray their environmental messages in a sophisticated, nuanced way, and should be regarded as classics of the genre.
The author (left) and the Lorax (right) at Universal Studios Florida.
The Once-ler tells how, long ago, he arrived in the land where the story takes place and began cutting down the forests of truffula trees to make "thneeds"--essentially a stand-in for just about any superfluous consumer product imaginable. He is repeatedly warned about the consequences of what he does by the Lorax, a short, hairy creature who "speaks for the trees" and is displeased at the Once-ler's wasteful abuse of the forest and its resources. Yet the Once-ler continues to ignore the Lorax, until finally the truffle trees are all cut down, the animals are gone, and the sky is dark with smog.
Finally he realizes the error of his ways, but it is too late.
The beauty of The Lorax is that unlike so many other works of environmental fiction, it does not resort to demonizing those who pollute and destroy nature. Even though he makes one disastrous decision after another, the Once-ler never truly comes off as a villain. He is simply doing his job, and several times brings up important questions that even environmentalists must consider. Even the fact that his face is hidden factors into this; this drives home the point that pollution is not caused by specific people, but can be caused by anyone.
I chose to end my Eco-Tainment series with The Lorax for the same reason I began it with Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind. Both of these works portray their environmental messages in a sophisticated, nuanced way, and should be regarded as classics of the genre.
The author (left) and the Lorax (right) at Universal Studios Florida.
Wednesday, January 18, 2017
Adventures in the South Pacific: New Zealand's North Island
Compared to the South Island, New Zealand's North Island is highly developed and very little of the original forest remains. The climate on this island is somewhat milder than on the South Island, and it is here that the majority of New Zealand's cities and farms are located. Native wildlife is, understandably, less common on the North Island. While on the South Island we could see some native animals reliably every day, on the North Island those same animals were much rarer. Needless to say, the animals introduced by humans, such as house sparrows and mynahs, are far more common on the North Island.
A few native animals, however, have managed to adapt to the man-made conditions. The pukeko, or purple swamphen, is a long-legged wading bird related to rails and coots that is found in both Australia and New Zealand. It is quite fond of open, grassy areas, and has actually expanded its range in New Zealand as humans have cleared the forests. Nowadays, pukekos can be found in virtually any grassy field of substantial size in New Zealand.
The same is true of the swamp harrier, New Zealand's largest living bird of prey. In the past New Zealand was home to a second species called the Eyles's harrier, which inhabited forests. It died out along about 600 years ago, due to the destruction of the forests. When the forests disappeared, however, the plains-dwelling swamp harrier expanded its own range, and like the pukeko it is now found throughout New Zealand.
We put so much effort and thought into the idea of preserving ecosystems in their "natural state" that we sometimes lose sight of the fact that they have often not been in a "natural state" for a long time. New Zealand itself is a human artifact. Even the native animals and plants that do remain are very different ecologically than their ancestors only a few centuries ago. What this means is that that New Zealand--and all places like it-- are best understood as systems rather than separate collections of individuals. What's left of New Zealand is simply too unique to waste.
A tui--a common New Zealand songbird-- sips nectar from a New Zealand flax. Both the bird and the plant are still common, but for how much longer?
A few native animals, however, have managed to adapt to the man-made conditions. The pukeko, or purple swamphen, is a long-legged wading bird related to rails and coots that is found in both Australia and New Zealand. It is quite fond of open, grassy areas, and has actually expanded its range in New Zealand as humans have cleared the forests. Nowadays, pukekos can be found in virtually any grassy field of substantial size in New Zealand.
The same is true of the swamp harrier, New Zealand's largest living bird of prey. In the past New Zealand was home to a second species called the Eyles's harrier, which inhabited forests. It died out along about 600 years ago, due to the destruction of the forests. When the forests disappeared, however, the plains-dwelling swamp harrier expanded its own range, and like the pukeko it is now found throughout New Zealand.
We put so much effort and thought into the idea of preserving ecosystems in their "natural state" that we sometimes lose sight of the fact that they have often not been in a "natural state" for a long time. New Zealand itself is a human artifact. Even the native animals and plants that do remain are very different ecologically than their ancestors only a few centuries ago. What this means is that that New Zealand--and all places like it-- are best understood as systems rather than separate collections of individuals. What's left of New Zealand is simply too unique to waste.
A tui--a common New Zealand songbird-- sips nectar from a New Zealand flax. Both the bird and the plant are still common, but for how much longer?
Sunday, January 15, 2017
Adventures in the South Pacific: New Zealand's South Island
After spending a week in Australia, we traveled to New Zealand. This was a very different experience from Australia. In Australia, if you saw a new species, there was a fairly good chance that it was a native one. In New Zealand, on the other hand, the native species are almost gone, at least in the populated areas where I visited. The native ecosystems that do remain are few and far between, and are more common on the South Island than the North Island.
Humans arrived in New Zealand much later than they did in Australia, around the year 1200. These colonists, the ancestors of the Maori who still live in New Zealand today, had a devastating effect on New Zealand's wildlife. Among the casualties were the nine or so species of flightless moa, two turkey-sized omnivores called adzebills, giant grazing geese, and the immense Haast's eagle--the largest eagle that ever lived. All were wiped out by the Maori before Europeans so much as set foot on New Zealand, giving the lie to the notion that non-technological societies live in "harmony with nature."
But tracts of native forest still persist on the South Island, some still retaining so much of their primeval character that, hiking along a trail through one, I could easily picture a moa lumbering up it. The podocarps and tree ferns that once covered the islands are still present, and provide shelter for the surviving native birds-- fantails, pigeons, honeyeaters, robins, and the like. At night, kiwis forage for worms, grubs, and snails under the leaf litter, while the remaining predatory birds-- falcons, owls, and the ever-present swamp harrier-- reap their share of the smaller birds.
At first glance it seems New Zealand possesses a vibrant ecosystem, but in reality it is operating with a skeleton crew. Most of the larger herbivores and predators are now extinct, leaving New Zealand's ecosystems, even in the protected areas, feeling oddly empty. The trees are there, but there are no moas to feed on their leaves.
The Haast's eagle and the moa were once the largest predator and herbivore respectively in New Zealand. After they were killed off by human colonists, their extinction has left a major gap in the ecosystem.
Humans arrived in New Zealand much later than they did in Australia, around the year 1200. These colonists, the ancestors of the Maori who still live in New Zealand today, had a devastating effect on New Zealand's wildlife. Among the casualties were the nine or so species of flightless moa, two turkey-sized omnivores called adzebills, giant grazing geese, and the immense Haast's eagle--the largest eagle that ever lived. All were wiped out by the Maori before Europeans so much as set foot on New Zealand, giving the lie to the notion that non-technological societies live in "harmony with nature."
But tracts of native forest still persist on the South Island, some still retaining so much of their primeval character that, hiking along a trail through one, I could easily picture a moa lumbering up it. The podocarps and tree ferns that once covered the islands are still present, and provide shelter for the surviving native birds-- fantails, pigeons, honeyeaters, robins, and the like. At night, kiwis forage for worms, grubs, and snails under the leaf litter, while the remaining predatory birds-- falcons, owls, and the ever-present swamp harrier-- reap their share of the smaller birds.
At first glance it seems New Zealand possesses a vibrant ecosystem, but in reality it is operating with a skeleton crew. Most of the larger herbivores and predators are now extinct, leaving New Zealand's ecosystems, even in the protected areas, feeling oddly empty. The trees are there, but there are no moas to feed on their leaves.
The Haast's eagle and the moa were once the largest predator and herbivore respectively in New Zealand. After they were killed off by human colonists, their extinction has left a major gap in the ecosystem.
Thursday, January 12, 2017
Adventures In The South Pacific: The Great Barrier Reef
We spent most of our time in Australia birding in the rainforest, but we also spent a significant amount of time along the coasts, and one day was completely taken up by a glass bottom boat/snorkel tour over the Great Barrier Reef.
In contrast to the rainforests, the reef showed readily apparent signs of human damage. You might be familiar with photographs of coral reefs that show it vibrantly colored, with corals, sponges, and sea anemones in every shade imaginable. There were certainly still some colorful corals in the part we visited, but for the most part their colors were beginning to fade away, and many of them seemed unhealthy. We were, after all, visiting in the aftermath of one of the largest recorded coral die-offs in recent memory. Increasing water temperature and acidity causes the symbiotic algae corals use for nutrients to "bleach" and die, leaving only the dead shell behind. That said, the "bleaching" in the area we visited was nowhere near as bad as it is in some other parts of the reef, and abundant animal life was still present, such as giant clams, parrotfish, and sea turtles.
We also visited a sandbar island that was used as a rookery by a nesting colony of brown noddies (a type of tern). Like many seabirds, noddies nest on these offshore islands to prevent their chicks from being preyed upon by ground-dwelling predators. On many of these islands, introduced predators such as rats have decimated the seabird populations, and now the only ones left are usually ones that are officially protected, like the one we went to.
The reef gave me a very different impression from the rainforest. In the rainforest, the ecosystem I was surrounded by truly felt like an untouched wilderness in many places. The coral reef was not like that. It was certainly impressive and beautiful, but at the same time it felt as though it had seen better days
.
Though still full of life, the part of the Great Barrier Reef we visited was showing signs of bleaching.
In contrast to the rainforests, the reef showed readily apparent signs of human damage. You might be familiar with photographs of coral reefs that show it vibrantly colored, with corals, sponges, and sea anemones in every shade imaginable. There were certainly still some colorful corals in the part we visited, but for the most part their colors were beginning to fade away, and many of them seemed unhealthy. We were, after all, visiting in the aftermath of one of the largest recorded coral die-offs in recent memory. Increasing water temperature and acidity causes the symbiotic algae corals use for nutrients to "bleach" and die, leaving only the dead shell behind. That said, the "bleaching" in the area we visited was nowhere near as bad as it is in some other parts of the reef, and abundant animal life was still present, such as giant clams, parrotfish, and sea turtles.
We also visited a sandbar island that was used as a rookery by a nesting colony of brown noddies (a type of tern). Like many seabirds, noddies nest on these offshore islands to prevent their chicks from being preyed upon by ground-dwelling predators. On many of these islands, introduced predators such as rats have decimated the seabird populations, and now the only ones left are usually ones that are officially protected, like the one we went to.
The reef gave me a very different impression from the rainforest. In the rainforest, the ecosystem I was surrounded by truly felt like an untouched wilderness in many places. The coral reef was not like that. It was certainly impressive and beautiful, but at the same time it felt as though it had seen better days
.
Though still full of life, the part of the Great Barrier Reef we visited was showing signs of bleaching.
Wednesday, January 11, 2017
Adventures in the South Pacific: The Australian Rainforest
Over the past month, I took an extensive trip to Australia and New Zealand, with the primary intention of observing the wildlife in those places. What follows will be a four-part blog essay on how those places have been impacted by humans, and what sort of human impact I personally encountered during my visit there.
Australia was colonized by humans about 40,000 years ago through what is now Indonesia and New Guinea. These people became the ancestors of today's Aboriginal people, who are considered to be the "natives" of Australia. At the time, Australia as a whole was a much wetter, more densely forested continent than it is now. The area of Australia that we visited--the northern tip of Queensland--is still forested, but much of the interior of Australia is now grassland or desert and is referred to as the Outback.
It was also during this time that many of Australia's large native animals, including twenty-foot monitor lizards, half-ton flightless birds, and wombats the size of hippos, became extinct. It is now believed that human hunting was the reason for this. Today, the largest land animals in Australia are red kangaroos.
Australia's biodiversity is still rich, and most of the wildlife that we saw--including kangaroos, wallabies, flying foxes, cassowaries, lorikeets, and cockatoos-- was native. However, we also saw some introduced species, including mynas and cane toads, both of which were ubiquitous in the more developed areas that we visited. However, the rainforest is under threat as well. Often as we drove from one hiking area to another, we passed by tracts of forest that had been felled to make way for crops.
Yet for all the destruction it has endured, the rainforests of Australia survived in their primal state remarkably well. The same, unfortunately, cannot be said for some of the other places we visited.
The southern, or double-wattled cassowary, one of Australia's largest living birds and a highly specialized creature of the rainforest.
Australia was colonized by humans about 40,000 years ago through what is now Indonesia and New Guinea. These people became the ancestors of today's Aboriginal people, who are considered to be the "natives" of Australia. At the time, Australia as a whole was a much wetter, more densely forested continent than it is now. The area of Australia that we visited--the northern tip of Queensland--is still forested, but much of the interior of Australia is now grassland or desert and is referred to as the Outback.
It was also during this time that many of Australia's large native animals, including twenty-foot monitor lizards, half-ton flightless birds, and wombats the size of hippos, became extinct. It is now believed that human hunting was the reason for this. Today, the largest land animals in Australia are red kangaroos.
Australia's biodiversity is still rich, and most of the wildlife that we saw--including kangaroos, wallabies, flying foxes, cassowaries, lorikeets, and cockatoos-- was native. However, we also saw some introduced species, including mynas and cane toads, both of which were ubiquitous in the more developed areas that we visited. However, the rainforest is under threat as well. Often as we drove from one hiking area to another, we passed by tracts of forest that had been felled to make way for crops.
Yet for all the destruction it has endured, the rainforests of Australia survived in their primal state remarkably well. The same, unfortunately, cannot be said for some of the other places we visited.
The southern, or double-wattled cassowary, one of Australia's largest living birds and a highly specialized creature of the rainforest.
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