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As Climate Changes Makes Desert Water Scarce, the Debate over Livestock vs. Wildlife Heats Up

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Monday, December 19, 2022

Tucked away from humans in hard-to-reach places, hundreds of artificial water catchments—AWCs, also known as guzzlers—dot the arid Southwest landscape, collecting rainwater for wildlife to drink. The introduction of livestock to the arid environment in the late 1800s and early 1900s, along with legislated prioritization of grazing rights, altered or usurped many natural water sources for the area’s native species. At the same time, the image of the West as an agrarian Eden, with plenty of land and sunshine, brought agricultural investment to Southern California–where water is in short supply. This in turn fostered large-scale water diversion and set precedence for putting agricultural water needs over wildlife. By the 1940s, state and federal land management agencies acknowledged a decline in numbers of wild animals—which presented a problem for recreational hunting. To maintain healthy wildlife populations for recreation on public lands, they installed what would become a network of AWCs throughout the Southwest. Originally for quail and small game, new designs were added over the years for larger animals. In the ’70s and ’80s, guzzler installation expanded to mitigate loss of water sources to drought and development. In Southern California deserts, where water is scant and ranchers reigned for more than a century, guzzlers became a go-to solution for thirsty native wildlife, including endangered and threatened species, sidelined by grazing cattle. As climate change has increased the severity of drought and continued to test the limits of desert animal survival, guzzlers have become a lifeline for many species. According to the U.S. Drought Monitor, 2022 is the driest in 128 years of record-keeping in California. Neal Darby, a National Park Service biologist in Mojave National Preserve for 15 years, often visits these man-made storage systems—sometimes carrying water on his back—to top off tanks or make repairs. He has seen the difference they can make for struggling species. A U.S. Marine helicopter delivers water to a guzzler in southern California. “Water was considered the primary limiting factor in recovery and conservation of desert environments,” he said. “Rain catchment and storage systems were designed to put permanent water sources across the landscape to complement water sources developed for livestock interests.” A 2016–17 study in the preserve showed the guzzlers’ impact: 44 mammal species visited artificial water catchments, “which supports the long-held assumption that AWCs may benefit wildlife in arid habitats.” Recording devices have captured tortoises, deer, bighorn sheep, mountain lions, coyotes, bobcats, foxes, ringtail, quail, bats, birds—even bathing burrowing owls—and a whole cast of characters frequenting these lifelines. Like anything water-related in California, however, this wildlife-friendly water catchment system is controversial. When it comes to negotiating water rights, wildlife does not have a seat at the table. Environmental and agricultural advocates often find themselves at odds over water allocation and management, which historically favors the $50 billion agriculture industry in the state. And protections for wildlife are hard-won and heavily litigated. When it comes to negotiating water rights, wildlife does not have a seat at the table. Environmental and agricultural advocates often find themselves at odds over water allocation and management, which historically favors the state’s agriculture industry. Though guzzlers don’t require water diversion, AWCs in desert regions rely on rain to fill, and the “rainy season” is now less reliable. Additionally, filling them manually can be a costly undertaking. Moreover, some scientists think it’s unhealthy for wildlife to depend on man-made water sources. But, as California Department of Fish and Wildlife (CDFW) biologist Janene Colby pointed out, in some particularly drought-stricken habitats—such as one area of Anza-Borrego Desert State Park known to support endangered Peninsular bighorn—guzzlers are the only viable sources of water for miles around. Although government agencies are mandated to protect wildlife on public lands, it’s not always clear how that includes guzzlers. Man-made water sources fall in and out of favor with leadership in Anza-Borrego and Mojave, two of Southern California’s protected deserts still grappling with the impacts of grazing. To Intervene—or Not—in Wild Landscapes Simple design makes guzzlers durable and low-maintenance: a collection lid or apron channels rainfall, runoff, or snowmelt into a tank below (sometimes underground), holding a couple hundred to 10,000 gallons. Animals access the water using a built-in ramp or external drinker box. Some have cattle exclusion fences and brush piles that create cover from predators; some include extra traction or escape ramps to prevent small animals from drowning. During drought, guzzlers provide a ready supply of drinking water and supplement moisture intake to compensate for extremely dry vegetation. “Availability of water probably helps with digestion and nutrient uptake to help animals persist despite poor forage conditions. It also helps many animals dissipate their body heat so they can handle the heat better,” said Darby. Ironically, said Darby, “the biggest conflicts we have are the Wilderness Act and the ‘Organic Act,’”—a nickname for the Bureau of Land Management (BLM) Federal Land Policy and Management Act of 1976. According to these pieces of legislation, land management agencies must perpetuate the natural state of ecosystems and eschew man-made alterations on designated lands. That includes guzzlers. “Some people say, ‘If there wasn’t water here before, there shouldn’t be any here now,’” Darby explains. “[Guzzlers] don’t necessarily fit in with wildlife values, but so many springs are taken for ranching, mining, and grazing—guzzlers in some areas are the only thing keeping wildlife alive.” “If a species requires ongoing habitat manipulation to persist in a particular area—because we are unwilling to address underlying human-made causes of habitat change, because we are unwilling to let the species move to more suitable locations, or because natural processes favor a species evolution unfavorable to a particular species—do we opt for perpetually fabricated landscapes?” said Dana Johnson, attorney and policy director with Wilderness Watch, and a critic of the approach. “Guzzlers are often associated with heavy motorized intrusions—helicopters for dropping water, vehicle use for access and maintenance, heavy equipment use—and their purpose is to perpetually manipulate the environment to maintain desired conditions at the expense of natural processes,” Johnson said. “Guzzler opponents point to the historical purpose of artificial water systems—to grow wildlife to hunt them—and say adding water artificially inflates animal populations,” said Brendan Cummings of Center for Biological Diversity, who was once in the “absolutely no guzzlers” camp. He was a lawyer on a suit that halted Mojave National Preserve’s plans to add more guzzlers in the early 2000s. “[Guzzlers] don’t necessarily fit in with wildlife values,” said former CDFW biologist Laura Cunningham, who worked in the Mojave for decades and is current California director of the Western Watersheds Project. “But so many springs are taken for ranching, mining, and grazing—guzzlers in some areas are the only thing keeping wildlife alive,” she said. A Water Drop for Bighorn Sheep “Allocating water for wildlife is often up to one or two people who recognize an issue and choose to move forward with it,” said retired Anza-Borrego Desert State Park Superintendent Mark Jorgensen. And it’s often up to the charisma of a few key species to rally support. Jorgensen is one of those people; peninsular bighorn sheep is one of those species. Found only in the arid eastern mountains of Southern California, total bighorn numbers had dwindled to about 300 when it made the endangered list in 1998 due to drought, habitat loss, and disease from cows. Jorgensen recognized the park’s duty to revive bighorn back in the 1970s. “We are not going to restore desert wilderness if we’ve taken away all the water,” he remembers realizing. Partnering with CDFW and multiple volunteers—including hunting organizations—Jorgensen and his staff installed 10 rainwater guzzlers throughout Anza-Borrego’s 600,000-acre terrain. By the time he retired in 2009, a coordinated recovery effort had brought the total peninsular bighorn population up to almost 800. But park leadership did not prioritize guzzler upkeep after Jorgensen left. Ongoing drought left some dry; others deteriorated under harsh desert conditions. At the same time, a study of the Lower Colorado desert from 1984 to 2017 showed vegetation cover decreased by about 35 percent due to the warming climate. When several endangered bighorn sheep were found dead near a dry guzzler in Anza-Borrego in 2020, CDFW scientist Colby contended that—by allowing guzzlers to fall into disrepair—park officials had failed to carry out their duty to protect the borregos. In a population that small (now about 900), every sheep counts. “Bighorn sheep are important, but to what end are we watering a desert?” Despite initial resistance from senior state park scientist Danny McCamish, who expressed concern that guzzlers were “bolstering a man-made false population,” Colby arranged Anza- Borrego’s first-ever emergency water drop. With help from a helicopter supplied by nearby Marines, Colby and her crew hustled to repair and fill a guzzler near Whale Peak—on a 115-degree day. Similar operations have taken place for Riverside and Mojave county guzzlers. But at a cost of up to $65,000 for just one water drop to just one guzzler, with funds and supplies donated, water drops are not a sustainable solution. McCamish agrees and questions the ongoing support of guzzlers. “Bighorn sheep are important,” he told a reporter in April 2022, “but to what end are we watering a desert?” The Usurping of Native Water Sources by Ranchers After the Gold Rush, ranchers raising cows and sheep (not bighorn) set the course of water use in San Diego’s backcountry. Homesteading and farming accompanied the cattle, putting additional pressure on desert water sources. In the 1860s, on one of only two year-round wetlands in Anza-Borrego, in the central part of what is now the state park, the Sentenac brothers built a cabin and started raising goats, cattle, and domestic sheep. Shortly thereafter, they began piping water from nearby San Felipe Creek to fill a cattle trough. San Diego cattleman George Sawday later started his famous livestock empire on that land, pumping water from the creek and the wetland to support his burgeoning herds. Ranchers were also in the practice of burning native vegetation to make way for grazing cattle and planting non-native tamarisk for windbreaks. Tamarisk’s extensive roots, which make it drought-hardy, change water flow patterns and alter the chemistry of the soil. For more than a century, tamarisk choked San Felipe Creek and Sentenac Cienega, further limiting water availability for wildlife. By 1910, almost 50,000 cattle roamed the region’s foothills and deserts. Though Anza-Borrego Desert State Park was established in 1933, grazing rights continued on the land until 1970, while a patchwork of private inholdings throughout the park continued to support cows. From the Riverside County line in the north to the Mexico border in the south, most prominent water sources were “usurped in some way,” Jorgensen said, altering the delicate desert balance to this day. “If you had looked at the map and plotted to rid the desert of its native water sources, you couldn’t have done a better job,” he said. Just 10 miles south of Sentenac Cienega, over a rugged smattering of mountains, at Vallecito Creek, a stage coach company and later a dairy farm replaced what had been a rich riparian habitat that supported deer, bobcat, mountain lions, birds, lizards, snakes, frogs, insects, and of course, bighorn—along with indigenous villages—and drained the water to feed domesticated animals. Ranching and agriculture continued there until the 1970s. And although the area around the creek is now a park, it’s still a popular camping spot where human use displaces wild animal use. This was one of the most critical vicinities Jorgensen identified to install AWCs for bighorn, in the ’80s and ’90s, when numbers in the Vallecito Mountains had dwindled to under 30. One of those guzzlers—at the site of the helicopter water drop—is currently the only water source for a local ewe group. Yearly counts show a resurgence in Vallecito Mountains peninsular bighorn, at a height of 150-175 in the greater area. Like water sources in San Diego County deserts, many springs and seeps throughout the Mojave, just over 200 miles to the northeast, were tapped for cattle starting in the late 1800s. Ranching in the vast desert area—with grazing allotments on public lands—continued for more than a century, even after the Desert Protection Act set aside 1.6 million acres for Mojave National Preserve (MNP) in 1994. That meant local fauna and bovine visitors shared water—both developed and natural sources. But that didn’t work well for some species, like easily spooked bighorn or quail. And the impact of cattle trampling vegetation also challenged how native desert species survived in their own habitat. Starting in the 1970s, the Bureau of Land Management and CDFW installed 134 small game guzzlers and six for big game in what is now MNP, along with “wildlife friendly” fencing that kept cows (and wild burros) from accessing certain streams while other animals could jump or duck in for a drink. As the Ranching Era Ends, Infrastructure Questions Remain In 2001, environmental groups precipitated the end of most grazing in Mojave National Preserve, contending it violated the 1994 Desert Tortoise Recovery Plan. With the end of the ranching era, park leadership began to remove the wells, pipes, windmills, pumps, and troughs that had sustained cattle—and incidentally provided water for wildlife—for more than 100 years. But conservationists and hunters alike worried that animal populations, particularly mule deer, were declining without access to these watering systems. CDFW proposed to convert abandoned livestock wells to guzzlers. That’s when Center for Biological Diversity stepped in with the lawsuit that halted the conversion, alleging that guzzlers harm wildlife, especially desert tortoise, a few of which were found dead inside tanks. Cummings, now a conservation director with the organization, said “poorly maintained guzzlers were basically death traps for tortoises,” and that he has a file filled with photos of tortoise carcasses from when he worked on the case. Though the conversion plan had already been approved by the National Parks Service, in 2005 Mojave’s superintendent nixed it at the last minute. Darby said those tortoises did not necessarily drown; they probably climbed in there to live out their last moments in a cool, protected spot. The Preserve staff then launched research into the efficacy of man-made water sources, with mule deer as the subject. Preliminary results showed higher survival rates in areas with guzzler access. But several years into it, the preserve’s next superintendent stopped the study. Under Todd Suess, the Preserve management plan for developed water resources proposed removal or neglect of all guzzlers and abandoned wells in accordance with the Wilderness Act. Lucky for him, Darby said, current leadership is supportive of catchment systems. But even with support, he said, the Wilderness Act makes guzzler maintenance tricky: it prohibits heavy equipment on the preserve, which disturbs the character of the land, said Dana Johnson, and “stresses the animals further.” Instead of heading straight to the sites, Darby and his crew take a circuitous route on non-preserve land, pull the tanker up to the very edge of the preserve, and then deploy several hundred feet of hose to pump water to the guzzler. “We actively maintain all bighorn sheep guzzlers,” Darby said, “even hauling water to replenish them if they go dry. This is because bighorn is such a keystone animal in the desert.” Darby’s most recent Mojave guzzler refill was on September 17 in the Jackass Mountains, in collaboration with the Society for Conservation of Bighorn Sheep. While guzzlers cannot bring back vegetation, habitat, or natural water sources, Jorgensen is hopeful that Anza-Borrego superintendent Ray Lennox “will do what needs to be done” to repair the ones he put in. Jorgensen heard through the grapevine that helicopters are lined up to do tank replacements, and a long-term guzzler maintenance plan is in the works. The Need for an Overarching Wildlife Management Plan Since the tortoise lawsuit, Cummings said his view of guzzlers has evolved in light of climate change. “It’s a lot hotter than it was back then,” he said. “We’ve altered the climate, and that’s dried up natural water sources. Bird species diversity in Mojave is half of what it was 30 years ago, due to drought and water stress. Wildlife is increasingly dependent on artificial water sources.” The guzzler controversy, Cummings said, “is part of a much broader issue: our wildlife management is not changing as fast as the climate.” “We’ve altered the climate, and that’s dried up natural water sources. Bird species diversity in Mojave is half of what it was 30 years ago, due to drought and water stress. Wildlife is increasingly dependent on artificial water sources.” Opponents and proponents of guzzlers do agree on one thing: “fighting for water for wildlife is really hard,” said Cunningham of Western Watersheds Project. There’s no overarching plan on how to protect water sources for wildlife; no coordinated effort among agencies. And besides protected areas where advocates fight for exceptions, decades-old rules prioritize livestock water use and grazing rights on public lands. “We’ve seen severe drought for years, and yet domestic livestock grazing on public lands continues without any meaningful restriction. The same problem exists with water diversion for human uses. We could give meaningful consideration to wildlife as a ‘stakeholder,’ but we often don’t,” said Dana Johnson. Even California’s landmark water legislation, the Sustainable Groundwater Management Act of 2014, does not provide specific protections of water for wildlife: there’s a burden of proof on CDFW to show how misuse would harm Groundwater Dependent Ecosystems. “We need to think about how to change land management paradigms,” said Cummings. “Right now, responses are reactive, not well thought out. It’s clear that species recovery under a changing climate requires some level of human intervention.” The solution is twofold, Cummings believes. “Do as much as we can to protect desert groundwater and make sure surface waters are flowing, and climate-informed revisitation of guzzlers,” he said, noting that as they proceed, leaders need to be asking, “Where does it make the most sense to have artificial water?” The post As Climate Changes Makes Desert Water Scarce, the Debate over Livestock vs. Wildlife Heats Up appeared first on Civil Eats.

The introduction of livestock to the arid environment in the late 1800s and early 1900s, along with legislated prioritization of grazing rights, altered or usurped many natural water sources for the area’s native species. At the same time, the image of the West as an agrarian Eden, with plenty of land and sunshine, brought agricultural […] The post As Climate Changes Makes Desert Water Scarce, the Debate over Livestock vs. Wildlife Heats Up appeared first on Civil Eats.

Tucked away from humans in hard-to-reach places, hundreds of artificial water catchments—AWCs, also known as guzzlers—dot the arid Southwest landscape, collecting rainwater for wildlife to drink.

The introduction of livestock to the arid environment in the late 1800s and early 1900s, along with legislated prioritization of grazing rights, altered or usurped many natural water sources for the area’s native species. At the same time, the image of the West as an agrarian Eden, with plenty of land and sunshine, brought agricultural investment to Southern California–where water is in short supply. This in turn fostered large-scale water diversion and set precedence for putting agricultural water needs over wildlife.

By the 1940s, state and federal land management agencies acknowledged a decline in numbers of wild animals—which presented a problem for recreational hunting. To maintain healthy wildlife populations for recreation on public lands, they installed what would become a network of AWCs throughout the Southwest. Originally for quail and small game, new designs were added over the years for larger animals.

In the ’70s and ’80s, guzzler installation expanded to mitigate loss of water sources to drought and development. In Southern California deserts, where water is scant and ranchers reigned for more than a century, guzzlers became a go-to solution for thirsty native wildlife, including endangered and threatened species, sidelined by grazing cattle. As climate change has increased the severity of drought and continued to test the limits of desert animal survival, guzzlers have become a lifeline for many species. According to the U.S. Drought Monitor, 2022 is the driest in 128 years of record-keeping in California.

Neal Darby, a National Park Service biologist in Mojave National Preserve for 15 years, often visits these man-made storage systems—sometimes carrying water on his back—to top off tanks or make repairs. He has seen the difference they can make for struggling species.

A US Marine helicopter delivers water to a guzzler in southern California.

A U.S. Marine helicopter delivers water to a guzzler in southern California.

“Water was considered the primary limiting factor in recovery and conservation of desert environments,” he said. “Rain catchment and storage systems were designed to put permanent water sources across the landscape to complement water sources developed for livestock interests.”

A 2016–17 study in the preserve showed the guzzlers’ impact: 44 mammal species visited artificial water catchments, “which supports the long-held assumption that AWCs may benefit wildlife in arid habitats.” Recording devices have captured tortoises, deer, bighorn sheep, mountain lions, coyotes, bobcats, foxes, ringtail, quail, bats, birds—even bathing burrowing owls—and a whole cast of characters frequenting these lifelines.

Like anything water-related in California, however, this wildlife-friendly water catchment system is controversial. When it comes to negotiating water rights, wildlife does not have a seat at the table. Environmental and agricultural advocates often find themselves at odds over water allocation and management, which historically favors the $50 billion agriculture industry in the state. And protections for wildlife are hard-won and heavily litigated.

When it comes to negotiating water rights, wildlife does not have a seat at the table. Environmental and agricultural advocates often find themselves at odds over water allocation and management, which historically favors the state’s agriculture industry.

Though guzzlers don’t require water diversion, AWCs in desert regions rely on rain to fill, and the “rainy season” is now less reliable. Additionally, filling them manually can be a costly undertaking. Moreover, some scientists think it’s unhealthy for wildlife to depend on man-made water sources.

But, as California Department of Fish and Wildlife (CDFW) biologist Janene Colby pointed out, in some particularly drought-stricken habitats—such as one area of Anza-Borrego Desert State Park known to support endangered Peninsular bighorn—guzzlers are the only viable sources of water for miles around.

Although government agencies are mandated to protect wildlife on public lands, it’s not always clear how that includes guzzlers. Man-made water sources fall in and out of favor with leadership in Anza-Borrego and Mojave, two of Southern California’s protected deserts still grappling with the impacts of grazing.

To Intervene—or Not—in Wild Landscapes

Simple design makes guzzlers durable and low-maintenance: a collection lid or apron channels rainfall, runoff, or snowmelt into a tank below (sometimes underground), holding a couple hundred to 10,000 gallons.

Animals access the water using a built-in ramp or external drinker box. Some have cattle exclusion fences and brush piles that create cover from predators; some include extra traction or escape ramps to prevent small animals from drowning.

During drought, guzzlers provide a ready supply of drinking water and supplement moisture intake to compensate for extremely dry vegetation. “Availability of water probably helps with digestion and nutrient uptake to help animals persist despite poor forage conditions. It also helps many animals dissipate their body heat so they can handle the heat better,” said Darby.

Ironically, said Darby, “the biggest conflicts we have are the Wilderness Act and the ‘Organic Act,’”—a nickname for the Bureau of Land Management (BLM) Federal Land Policy and Management Act of 1976. According to these pieces of legislation, land management agencies must perpetuate the natural state of ecosystems and eschew man-made alterations on designated lands. That includes guzzlers.

“Some people say, ‘If there wasn’t water here before, there shouldn’t be any here now,’” Darby explains.

“[Guzzlers] don’t necessarily fit in with wildlife values, but so many springs are taken for ranching, mining, and grazing—guzzlers in some areas are the only thing keeping wildlife alive.”

“If a species requires ongoing habitat manipulation to persist in a particular area—because we are unwilling to address underlying human-made causes of habitat change, because we are unwilling to let the species move to more suitable locations, or because natural processes favor a species evolution unfavorable to a particular species—do we opt for perpetually fabricated landscapes?” said Dana Johnson, attorney and policy director with Wilderness Watch, and a critic of the approach.

“Guzzlers are often associated with heavy motorized intrusions—helicopters for dropping water, vehicle use for access and maintenance, heavy equipment use—and their purpose is to perpetually manipulate the environment to maintain desired conditions at the expense of natural processes,” Johnson said.

“Guzzler opponents point to the historical purpose of artificial water systems—to grow wildlife to hunt them—and say adding water artificially inflates animal populations,” said Brendan Cummings of Center for Biological Diversity, who was once in the “absolutely no guzzlers” camp. He was a lawyer on a suit that halted Mojave National Preserve’s plans to add more guzzlers in the early 2000s.

“[Guzzlers] don’t necessarily fit in with wildlife values,” said former CDFW biologist Laura Cunningham, who worked in the Mojave for decades and is current California director of the Western Watersheds Project. “But so many springs are taken for ranching, mining, and grazing—guzzlers in some areas are the only thing keeping wildlife alive,” she said.

A Water Drop for Bighorn Sheep

“Allocating water for wildlife is often up to one or two people who recognize an issue and choose to move forward with it,” said retired Anza-Borrego Desert State Park Superintendent Mark Jorgensen. And it’s often up to the charisma of a few key species to rally support.

Jorgensen is one of those people; peninsular bighorn sheep is one of those species. Found only in the arid eastern mountains of Southern California, total bighorn numbers had dwindled to about 300 when it made the endangered list in 1998 due to drought, habitat loss, and disease from cows. Jorgensen recognized the park’s duty to revive bighorn back in the 1970s.

“We are not going to restore desert wilderness if we’ve taken away all the water,” he remembers realizing.

Partnering with CDFW and multiple volunteers—including hunting organizations—Jorgensen and his staff installed 10 rainwater guzzlers throughout Anza-Borrego’s 600,000-acre terrain. By the time he retired in 2009, a coordinated recovery effort had brought the total peninsular bighorn population up to almost 800.

But park leadership did not prioritize guzzler upkeep after Jorgensen left. Ongoing drought left some dry; others deteriorated under harsh desert conditions. At the same time, a study of the Lower Colorado desert from 1984 to 2017 showed vegetation cover decreased by about 35 percent due to the warming climate.

When several endangered bighorn sheep were found dead near a dry guzzler in Anza-Borrego in 2020, CDFW scientist Colby contended that—by allowing guzzlers to fall into disrepair—park officials had failed to carry out their duty to protect the borregos. In a population that small (now about 900), every sheep counts.

“Bighorn sheep are important, but to what end are we watering a desert?”

Despite initial resistance from senior state park scientist Danny McCamish, who expressed concern that guzzlers were “bolstering a man-made false population,” Colby arranged Anza- Borrego’s first-ever emergency water drop.

With help from a helicopter supplied by nearby Marines, Colby and her crew hustled to repair and fill a guzzler near Whale Peak—on a 115-degree day. Similar operations have taken place for Riverside and Mojave county guzzlers. But at a cost of up to $65,000 for just one water drop to just one guzzler, with funds and supplies donated, water drops are not a sustainable solution.

McCamish agrees and questions the ongoing support of guzzlers. “Bighorn sheep are important,” he told a reporter in April 2022, “but to what end are we watering a desert?”

The Usurping of Native Water Sources by Ranchers

After the Gold Rush, ranchers raising cows and sheep (not bighorn) set the course of water use in San Diego’s backcountry. Homesteading and farming accompanied the cattle, putting additional pressure on desert water sources.

In the 1860s, on one of only two year-round wetlands in Anza-Borrego, in the central part of what is now the state park, the Sentenac brothers built a cabin and started raising goats, cattle, and domestic sheep. Shortly thereafter, they began piping water from nearby San Felipe Creek to fill a cattle trough. San Diego cattleman George Sawday later started his famous livestock empire on that land, pumping water from the creek and the wetland to support his burgeoning herds.

Ranchers were also in the practice of burning native vegetation to make way for grazing cattle and planting non-native tamarisk for windbreaks. Tamarisk’s extensive roots, which make it drought-hardy, change water flow patterns and alter the chemistry of the soil. For more than a century, tamarisk choked San Felipe Creek and Sentenac Cienega, further limiting water availability for wildlife.

By 1910, almost 50,000 cattle roamed the region’s foothills and deserts. Though Anza-Borrego Desert State Park was established in 1933, grazing rights continued on the land until 1970, while a patchwork of private inholdings throughout the park continued to support cows. From the Riverside County line in the north to the Mexico border in the south, most prominent water sources were “usurped in some way,” Jorgensen said, altering the delicate desert balance to this day.

“If you had looked at the map and plotted to rid the desert of its native water sources, you couldn’t have done a better job,” he said.

Just 10 miles south of Sentenac Cienega, over a rugged smattering of mountains, at Vallecito Creek, a stage coach company and later a dairy farm replaced what had been a rich riparian habitat that supported deer, bobcat, mountain lions, birds, lizards, snakes, frogs, insects, and of course, bighorn—along with indigenous villages—and drained the water to feed domesticated animals. Ranching and agriculture continued there until the 1970s. And although the area around the creek is now a park, it’s still a popular camping spot where human use displaces wild animal use.

This was one of the most critical vicinities Jorgensen identified to install AWCs for bighorn, in the ’80s and ’90s, when numbers in the Vallecito Mountains had dwindled to under 30. One of those guzzlers—at the site of the helicopter water drop—is currently the only water source for a local ewe group. Yearly counts show a resurgence in Vallecito Mountains peninsular bighorn, at a height of 150-175 in the greater area.

Like water sources in San Diego County deserts, many springs and seeps throughout the Mojave, just over 200 miles to the northeast, were tapped for cattle starting in the late 1800s. Ranching in the vast desert area—with grazing allotments on public lands—continued for more than a century, even after the Desert Protection Act set aside 1.6 million acres for Mojave National Preserve (MNP) in 1994.

That meant local fauna and bovine visitors shared water—both developed and natural sources. But that didn’t work well for some species, like easily spooked bighorn or quail. And the impact of cattle trampling vegetation also challenged how native desert species survived in their own habitat.

Starting in the 1970s, the Bureau of Land Management and CDFW installed 134 small game guzzlers and six for big game in what is now MNP, along with “wildlife friendly” fencing that kept cows (and wild burros) from accessing certain streams while other animals could jump or duck in for a drink.

As the Ranching Era Ends, Infrastructure Questions Remain

In 2001, environmental groups precipitated the end of most grazing in Mojave National Preserve, contending it violated the 1994 Desert Tortoise Recovery Plan.

With the end of the ranching era, park leadership began to remove the wells, pipes, windmills, pumps, and troughs that had sustained cattle—and incidentally provided water for wildlife—for more than 100 years. But conservationists and hunters alike worried that animal populations, particularly mule deer, were declining without access to these watering systems. CDFW proposed to convert abandoned livestock wells to guzzlers.

That’s when Center for Biological Diversity stepped in with the lawsuit that halted the conversion, alleging that guzzlers harm wildlife, especially desert tortoise, a few of which were found dead inside tanks. Cummings, now a conservation director with the organization, said “poorly maintained guzzlers were basically death traps for tortoises,” and that he has a file filled with photos of tortoise carcasses from when he worked on the case.

Though the conversion plan had already been approved by the National Parks Service, in 2005 Mojave’s superintendent nixed it at the last minute. Darby said those tortoises did not necessarily drown; they probably climbed in there to live out their last moments in a cool, protected spot.

The Preserve staff then launched research into the efficacy of man-made water sources, with mule deer as the subject. Preliminary results showed higher survival rates in areas with guzzler access. But several years into it, the preserve’s next superintendent stopped the study. Under Todd Suess, the Preserve management plan for developed water resources proposed removal or neglect of all guzzlers and abandoned wells in accordance with the Wilderness Act.

Lucky for him, Darby said, current leadership is supportive of catchment systems. But even with support, he said, the Wilderness Act makes guzzler maintenance tricky: it prohibits heavy equipment on the preserve, which disturbs the character of the land, said Dana Johnson, and “stresses the animals further.”

Instead of heading straight to the sites, Darby and his crew take a circuitous route on non-preserve land, pull the tanker up to the very edge of the preserve, and then deploy several hundred feet of hose to pump water to the guzzler.

“We actively maintain all bighorn sheep guzzlers,” Darby said, “even hauling water to replenish them if they go dry. This is because bighorn is such a keystone animal in the desert.”

Darby’s most recent Mojave guzzler refill was on September 17 in the Jackass Mountains, in collaboration with the Society for Conservation of Bighorn Sheep.

While guzzlers cannot bring back vegetation, habitat, or natural water sources, Jorgensen is hopeful that Anza-Borrego superintendent Ray Lennox “will do what needs to be done” to repair the ones he put in. Jorgensen heard through the grapevine that helicopters are lined up to do tank replacements, and a long-term guzzler maintenance plan is in the works.

The Need for an Overarching Wildlife Management Plan

Since the tortoise lawsuit, Cummings said his view of guzzlers has evolved in light of climate change. “It’s a lot hotter than it was back then,” he said. “We’ve altered the climate, and that’s dried up natural water sources. Bird species diversity in Mojave is half of what it was 30 years ago, due to drought and water stress. Wildlife is increasingly dependent on artificial water sources.”

The guzzler controversy, Cummings said, “is part of a much broader issue: our wildlife management is not changing as fast as the climate.”

“We’ve altered the climate, and that’s dried up natural water sources. Bird species diversity in Mojave is half of what it was 30 years ago, due to drought and water stress. Wildlife is increasingly dependent on artificial water sources.”

Opponents and proponents of guzzlers do agree on one thing: “fighting for water for wildlife is really hard,” said Cunningham of Western Watersheds Project. There’s no overarching plan on how to protect water sources for wildlife; no coordinated effort among agencies. And besides protected areas where advocates fight for exceptions, decades-old rules prioritize livestock water use and grazing rights on public lands.

“We’ve seen severe drought for years, and yet domestic livestock grazing on public lands continues without any meaningful restriction. The same problem exists with water diversion for human uses. We could give meaningful consideration to wildlife as a ‘stakeholder,’ but we often don’t,” said Dana Johnson.

Even California’s landmark water legislation, the Sustainable Groundwater Management Act of 2014, does not provide specific protections of water for wildlife: there’s a burden of proof on CDFW to show how misuse would harm Groundwater Dependent Ecosystems.

“We need to think about how to change land management paradigms,” said Cummings. “Right now, responses are reactive, not well thought out. It’s clear that species recovery under a changing climate requires some level of human intervention.”

The solution is twofold, Cummings believes. “Do as much as we can to protect desert groundwater and make sure surface waters are flowing, and climate-informed revisitation of guzzlers,” he said, noting that as they proceed, leaders need to be asking, “Where does it make the most sense to have artificial water?”

The post As Climate Changes Makes Desert Water Scarce, the Debate over Livestock vs. Wildlife Heats Up appeared first on Civil Eats.

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South Carolina's coastal adaptation debates stir community concerns

In a bid to tackle coastal erosion, South Carolina communities and environmentalists clash over the construction of erosion control structures called groins at Debidue Beach. Daniel Shailer reports for Inside Climate News.In short:Environmental advocates argue that the construction of groins could harm the North Inlet-Winyah Bay reserve by disrupting natural sand movement.Debidue Beach residents advocate for these structures to protect their homes from increasing erosion, highlighting tensions between climate resilience and coastal development.Legal challenges and confusion over state coastal management regulations underscore the difficulties of balancing property protection with environmental conservation.Key quote:"Equity plays a huge part in this. When you look at environmental justice communities throughout the United States, you see an intentional disinvestment in those communities."— Omar Muhammad, executive director of the Lowcountry Alliance for Model CommunitiesWhy this matters:By preserving beaches, groins also support local economies that depend on tourism. On the other hand, groins can have unintended consequences. For instance, while they may accumulate sand on one side, they can also starve areas down drift of sand, leading to increased erosion elsewhere. Disparate state, local, private and federal conservation efforts are failing to protect biodiversity. Connectivity and coordination would help, say agency scientists and conservation leaders.

In a bid to tackle coastal erosion, South Carolina communities and environmentalists clash over the construction of erosion control structures called groins at Debidue Beach. Daniel Shailer reports for Inside Climate News.In short:Environmental advocates argue that the construction of groins could harm the North Inlet-Winyah Bay reserve by disrupting natural sand movement.Debidue Beach residents advocate for these structures to protect their homes from increasing erosion, highlighting tensions between climate resilience and coastal development.Legal challenges and confusion over state coastal management regulations underscore the difficulties of balancing property protection with environmental conservation.Key quote:"Equity plays a huge part in this. When you look at environmental justice communities throughout the United States, you see an intentional disinvestment in those communities."— Omar Muhammad, executive director of the Lowcountry Alliance for Model CommunitiesWhy this matters:By preserving beaches, groins also support local economies that depend on tourism. On the other hand, groins can have unintended consequences. For instance, while they may accumulate sand on one side, they can also starve areas down drift of sand, leading to increased erosion elsewhere. Disparate state, local, private and federal conservation efforts are failing to protect biodiversity. Connectivity and coordination would help, say agency scientists and conservation leaders.

New approach to lithium mining sparks environmental concerns

A lithium mining technique promises environmental benefits but raises concerns over water use and safety in Utah.Wyatt Myskow reports for Inside Climate News.In short:A test well for a new lithium mining process in Green River, Utah, unexpectedly released water and CO2, causing local concerns over water supply impacts.The direct lithium extraction (DLE) method, though potentially less damaging than traditional mining, remains unproven on a large scale in the U.S.Critics question the long-term environmental impact of DLE, especially regarding water consumption in the already arid Southwest.Key quote:"We are not opposed to lithium. We are opposed to unsustainable and dangerous appropriations of water under the false assumptions that this new technology is absolutely harmless."— Kyle Roerink, executive director for the Great Basin Water NetworkWhy this matters:As the global demand for lithium continues to surge with the transition toward greener energy sources, the industry faces the challenge of balancing the need for this critical mineral with the imperative to protect water resources and ensure sustainable practices.In push to mine for minerals, clean energy advocates ask what going green really means.

A lithium mining technique promises environmental benefits but raises concerns over water use and safety in Utah.Wyatt Myskow reports for Inside Climate News.In short:A test well for a new lithium mining process in Green River, Utah, unexpectedly released water and CO2, causing local concerns over water supply impacts.The direct lithium extraction (DLE) method, though potentially less damaging than traditional mining, remains unproven on a large scale in the U.S.Critics question the long-term environmental impact of DLE, especially regarding water consumption in the already arid Southwest.Key quote:"We are not opposed to lithium. We are opposed to unsustainable and dangerous appropriations of water under the false assumptions that this new technology is absolutely harmless."— Kyle Roerink, executive director for the Great Basin Water NetworkWhy this matters:As the global demand for lithium continues to surge with the transition toward greener energy sources, the industry faces the challenge of balancing the need for this critical mineral with the imperative to protect water resources and ensure sustainable practices.In push to mine for minerals, clean energy advocates ask what going green really means.

Stone Age People Survived a Supervolcano Eruption by Adapting to Dry Periods, Archaeologists Suggest

Humans living in northwest Ethiopia around 74,000 years ago switched to eating more fish following the eruption, a behavior that might have enabled migration out of Africa

Indonesia's Lake Toba, formed by a volcanic eruption around 74,000 years ago. In the new study, researchers uncovered fragments of glass from the eruption at an archaeological site in northwest Ethiopia, pointing to the volcano's global impacts. Goh Chai Hin / AFP via Getty Images Around 74,000 years ago, a massive supervolcano called Toba erupted in Indonesia, creating the largest known natural disaster in the last 2.5 million years. Now, an archaeological site in northwest Ethiopia, called Shinfa-Metema 1, may point to how humans adapted to the widespread changes in climate induced by the catastrophic eruption. People at this site shifted to eating more fish during dry periods that seem to be linked to the volcano, according to a study published last week in the journal Nature. “This points to how sophisticated people were in this time period,” John Kappelman, first author of the new study and a paleoanthropologist at the University of Texas at Austin, tells the New York Times’ Carl Zimmer. “This on-the-ground evidence contradicts the popular model that the ‘volcanic winter’ caused by the Toba eruption almost drove humans and our closely related ancestors to extinction,” Michael Petraglia, an archaeologist at Griffith University in Australia who did not contribute to the findings, tells the Washington Post’s Carolyn Y. Johnson. “Instead, all evidence from Shinfa-Metema and elsewhere now indicates that human populations were flexible enough in their adaptations to overcome environmental challenges, even those introduced by the Toba volcanic super-eruption of 74,000 years ago,” he adds. Kappelman’s team first came across the Shinfa-Metema 1 site in 2002. Excavations revealed fossil mammoth teeth and ostrich eggshells, as well as bones with cut marks, writes New Scientist’s Michael Le Page. Archaeologists estimate humans populated the site for five to ten years, during a time with seasonal dry periods. The researchers dated the pieces of ostrich eggshell to around 74,000 years ago, the time of the Toba eruption. And the same layers of sediment contained rocks with tiny fragments of volcanic glass, suggesting people lived there both before and after the blast in Indonesia, writes CNN’s Katie Hunt. The site had an unusually high abundance of fish compared to other Stone Age sites, suggesting that people captured more fish as waterholes shrank during the dry season. “People start to increase the percentage of fish in the diet when Toba comes in. They’re capturing and processing almost four times as much fish [as before the eruption],” Kappelman says to CNN. “It is sophisticated behavior… to fish, instead of hunting terrestrial mammals,” Kappelman tells the Washington Post. “That kind of behavioral flexibility is kind of a hallmark of modern humans today.” The researchers also uncovered 16,000 chipped rocks that could be arrowheads, suggesting the site’s inhabitants used bows and arrows to hunt. If confirmed, these artifacts would be the earliest evidence of archery, per the New York Times. Humans’ apparent adaptability at this site might shed light on early migrations, some researchers say. Modern humans spread out from Africa on multiple occasions more than 100,000 years ago, but people without African ancestry are tied genetically to a dispersal that occurred within the last 100,000 years. Previous research had suggested that early humans migrated during humid periods that offered more plants and food sources. Instead, the finding that Stone Age people adjusted to arid conditions suggests humans may have ventured out of Africa during dry periods. They could have followed “blue highways” created by seasonal rivers, moving between small waterholes as they depleted each one, according to a statement from the University of Texas at Austin. Rachel Lupien, a geoscientist at Aarhus University in Denmark who did not contribute to the findings, tells the Washington Post that she isn’t convinced by this theory yet. Comparing the short-term climate at Shinfa-Metema 1 to the climate in other locations, or across thousands of years, overlooks other variables that contribute to climate and rainfall, she says to the publication. “Of course this new work doesn’t mean that humid corridors were not still important conduits for dispersals out of Africa, but this work adds credible additional possibilities during more arid phases,” Chris Stringer, a paleoanthropologist at the Natural History Museum in London who was not involved in the research, tells CNN. Get the latest stories in your inbox every weekday.

Texas energy companies are betting hydrogen can become a cleaner fuel for transportation

Supporters say developing hydrogen as a fuel is critical to slowing climate change. Critics are concerned that producing it with fossil fuels will prop up the oil and gas industry.

This is the first of a three-part series on emerging energy sources and Texas' role in developing them. Part two, on geothermal energy, publishes Tuesday, and part three, on small nuclear reactors, will publish on Wednesday. JEFFERSON COUNTY — A concrete platform with fading blue paint marks the birthplace of the modern oil and gas industry in southeast Texas. Weather-beaten signs describe how drillers tapped the Spindletop oil well in 1901, a discovery that launched petroleum giants Texaco, Mobil and Gulf Oil. Nearby, a red pipeline traces a neat path above flat, gravel-covered earth. French company Air Liquide started building this unassuming facility, with a wellhead and other machinery, on the iconic site in 2014 to store what it believes will be key to an energy revolution: hydrogen. The ground that once released millions of barrels of oil now holds some 4.5 billion cubic feet of highly pressurized hydrogen. The gas is contained in a skyscraper-shaped cavern that reaches about a mile below ground within a subterranean salt dome. Hydrogen promoters see the gas as a crucial part of addressing climate change. If it’s produced in a way that creates few or no greenhouse gas emissions, it could provide an eco-friendly fuel for cars, planes, 18-wheelers and ships, and could power energy-intensive industries such as steel manufacturing. Hydrogen emits only water when used as fuel. If companies can produce clean hydrogen at a price that’s competitive with gasoline or diesel, supporters say it would revolutionize the fuel industry. That’s a big if. Hydrogen is among the most common elements in the universe, but on Earth it’s typically found bonded with something else, such as carbon. Today, hydrogen is often obtained by isolating it from methane, a mix of carbon and hydrogen that is the main component of natural gas. This process leaves behind carbon dioxide, which worsens climate change if released into the air. Engineers say it’s possible to clean up that process by catching the extra carbon dioxide and reusing it — to get more oil out of a well, for example — or injecting it into the earth to store it. Another less polluting method is to split hydrogen from water, which is made up of hydrogen and oxygen, using electricity generated by wind, solar or nuclear power. Texas has emerged as a leader in producing hydrogen the cheaper way using abundant supplies of natural gas without capturing the carbon dioxide. Air Liquide makes hydrogen at facilities along the state’s coast, from Beaumont to Corpus Christi. More than 100 miles of pipelines move that hydrogen to companies that buy it for processes such as removing sulfur from crude oil. Little hydrogen is made from gas with carbon capture or from water in the state — or the rest of the country. Some academics, policy advisers and companies that make hydrogen say Texas and the Gulf Coast should be where hydrogen created with fewer emissions takes off. A majority of the country’s hydrogen pipelines are already here, Texas’ petrochemical workers have skills that easily transfer to hydrogen production — which involves chemical reactions — and the state has the natural gas and renewable energy needed to produce it. “We can be the breadbasket for not only the U.S. but for the world in providing hydrogen,” said Bryan Fisher, a managing director with RMI, a nonprofit that supports the clean energy transition. But producing enough hydrogen cheaply, building the pipelines to move it and the subterranean caverns to store it and finding the customers to buy it requires companies to take some financial risk. That effort is getting a boost from the federal government, which is offering billions of dollars’ worth of tax credits to kick-start production of hydrogen from gas with carbon capture or water. The government also plans to divide as much as $7 billion among seven regional clusters of projects to build hydrogen infrastructure, including up to $1.2 billion for projects in Texas and Louisiana that plan to make hydrogen largely from natural gas. Competing to break into the industry are traditional fossil fuel companies, including Chevron and ExxonMobil. Hydrogen advocates say interest by the oil giants is good because they have the money and expertise to tackle such an ambitious project. But environmental groups doubt that fossil fuel companies can make hydrogen from natural gas as cleanly as they say they can. They worry the federal funding will prop up oil and gas companies, when the emphasis should be on making hydrogen from water or creating clean power another way. “Producing hydrogen from natural gas is not clean, not low-carbon and cannot and should not be considered a solution in our efforts to solve the world’s worsening climate change crisis,” David Schlissel, the co-author of a report from the Institute for Energy, Economics and Financial Analysis, said in a webinar. Katie Ellet, left, president of hydrogen energy and mobility for Air Liquide, walks past Facility Manager Craig Allen at the company's hydrogen storage facility. Credit: Mark Felix for The Texas Tribune First: A worker monitors the hydrogen storage site. Last: Marked pipelines move hydrogen. Credit: Mark Felix for The Texas Tribune Sitting in a mobile office at the Spindletop site, Katie Ellet, president of hydrogen energy and mobility for Air Liquide, urged critics not to be so puritanical about hydrogen production. She described hydrogen as part of a centuries-long evolution toward progressively cleaner fuels: coal replaced wood, then oil replaced coal. Ellet believes now is hydrogen’s Spindletop moment. She believes the technology, economics and interest are in place to allow the industry to boom. “We transition through these different energy cycles,” Ellet said. “And we’ve gotten better. We’ve learned, and we’ve gotten better. This is us … evolving into that next generation.” Hydrogen hype grows in Texas One weekday in October, Brian Weeks, senior director of business development at GTI Energy, walked onto a Houston hotel’s conference room stage to discuss hydrogen. GTI Energy used to be known as the Gas Technology Institute and researched natural gas. Now it promotes low-carbon energy. Weeks faced a standing-room-only crowd at the Hydrogen North America event. He remembered when, maybe a decade earlier, only seven people at a conference showed up to hear him speak on the topic. People have predicted hydrogen was about to take off before. Weeks worked on the idea off and on since the late 1990s, when he was at Texaco and the company believed hydrogen could power cars. At the time, they worried energy prices would keep rising. Weeks recalled it as a heady time for hydrogen, with actors from the hit TV series Baywatch starring in promotional videos. But hydrogen didn’t catch. Technology for producing it remained expensive, while oil production instead got a giant boost. Hydraulic fracturing technology allowed the United States to rapidly increase how much oil it produced. Still, Weeks wouldn’t have spent so much of his life on hydrogen if he didn’t believe it had a future, he said. Like Ellet, he said the circumstances feel different now. That’s in large part because of the federal government’s big investment: By 2030, the Biden administration wants America to produce 10 million metric tons per year of hydrogen made from water using renewable energy or from gas using carbon storage — about how much is produced now largely from gas without carbon capture. “It’s been a roller coaster, really, for the last at least 20 years,” Weeks said in an interview. Over the past few years, Weeks has helped a coalition of businesses, researchers and others apply for the federal funding earmarked in the 2021 Infrastructure Investment and Jobs Act for regional hydrogen projects, called “hydrogen hubs.” Nine projects centered in Houston sought money as a single hub, and on Oct. 13, the Department of Energy announced that they and six other applicants from across the country won. As part of the Houston group, Chevron wants to make low-carbon hydrogen and ammonia, which is used in fertilizer. ExxonMobil wants to build hydrogen pipelines and fueling stations for trucks. The Gulf Coast projects aimed to produce more than 1.8 million metric tons of hydrogen per year, more than any of the other winning hubs. Some 80% would be made from natural gas. Brett Perlman, CEO of the nonprofit Center for Houston’s Future, poses for a portrait at the Houstonian Hotel in Houston on March 24, 2024. Credit: Mark Felix for The Texas Tribune Local and state leaders are cheering on the industry’s growth. Brett Perlman, CEO of the nonprofit Center for Houston’s Future, supported the hydrogen hub effort. Perlman’s job is to consider Houston’s economy and what will happen to it as the world works to address climate change and wean itself off fossil fuels. Perlman wrestles with how to make Houston the low-carbon energy capital of the world. He speaks at conferences, too, to build the case that hydrogen should be part of maintaining the city’s success. “The energy transition is going to happen, and Houston will have a role,” Perlman said at his office. “The real question is can Houston be, continue to be, a leader?” Back at the same conference where Weeks spoke, Texas Public Utility Commissioner Lori Cobos, whose agency regulates the electricity industry, explained that because it has huge natural gas reserves and is a top producer of wind and solar energy, Texas is “uniquely positioned to be a national and global leader in hydrogen.” The easy path to selling hydrogen made in these new ways would be to start by converting places already using hydrogen for purposes such as making fertilizer, refining petroleum and treating metals. But even more environmental benefits would come if it could also be used in new applications, said John Hensley, vice president of markets and policy analysis for the industry advocacy group American Clean Power Association. Hydrogen believers envision the fuel could decarbonize industries that are considered hard to electrify. Hydrogen would power planes and trucks that heavy electric batteries would slow down. It would supply the high heat needed to make cement that electricity could not provide. The new federal tax incentives get hydrogen close, if not all the way, to being able to compete with fossil fuels on price, said Fisher of RMI. The government plans to pay up to $3 per kilogram of what it defines as clean hydrogen, such as that made from water, or up to $85 per metric ton of stored carbon dioxide that’s captured after making hydrogen from natural gas. With the subsidies, producing hydrogen from water would cost generally from $4 to $6 per kilogram, and producing it from natural gas would cost generally from $2 to $4, Fisher said. He stressed that it would depend on the specifics of the project. The government’s goal is to get the cost to $1 per kilogram for both types. Environmental groups and critics raise concerns  The hydrogen solution does not sound so promising to environmental groups, especially when it comes to making it from natural gas using carbon capture. A number of critics came together in a windowless Houston conference room of their own later in October to build the case to journalists that carbon capture in hydrogen production shouldn’t be seen as a way to address climate change but instead as a boost to the oil and gas industry. “This is not a transfer off of fossil fuel dependency,” said Jane Patton, campaign manager for U.S. fossil economy at the Center for International Environmental Law. “This is a perpetuation of fossil fuel dependency.” With money from the Rockefeller Family Fund, which has an initiative focused on slowing oil and gas production because it drives climate change, organizers brought in the big guns to tell the other side of the story. The day began with a speech from Bob Bullard, founding director of the Bullard Center for Environmental and Climate Justice at Texas Southern University, known by many as the father of environmental justice. Bullard has passionately told many versions of the same narrative. He pioneered his environmental justice work decades ago when he highlighted that the city of Houston primarily built its trash incinerators and landfills in Black neighborhoods. And he brought attention to one example after another of companies polluting poor communities of color rather than wealthy, white ones. Professor Robert Bullard, center, speaks at a roundtable event with Environmental Protection Agency Administrator Michael Regan at Texas Southern University in Houston on Nov. 18, 2021. Credit: Annie Mulligan for The Texas Tribune Now a member of the White House Environmental Justice Advisory Council, Bullard said he’s seen no proof that a build-out of hydrogen and carbon storage will be any better for local communities than the expansion of the petrochemical industry was over the past century, bringing more pollution than benefits to surrounding communities. He continued to call for a federal study to find out whether hydrogen production with carbon capture is safe for the people who live around it. “You’re asking the same people to sacrifice in the same way,” Bullard said at the event. “Can we trust the oil and gas industry to be truthful? I don’t have to write a book on that. We know the answer.” Schlissel, the director of resource planning analysis for the Institute for Energy, Economics and Financial Analysis, believes the government is using a badly built model to judge how clean hydrogen projects are when they’re evaluated for federal support. One problem is that the model inappropriately leaves out the fact that hydrogen pipelines could leak, Schlissel says. Hydrogen can react with the molecule that breaks down harmful methane in the atmosphere and make the methane last longer, contributing to climate change. Schlissel also says the model assumes companies can catch a lot of carbon dioxide — which he believes is totally unrealistic. While companies using carbon capture technology don’t typically publicize their capture rates, Schlissel and his colleagues dug up what they could and concluded that the technology was far short of where it needs to be. Speakers at the event also expressed little confidence in the Railroad Commission of Texas, which regulates the state’s oil and gas industry, to regulate hydrogen pipelines and underground storage. Commission Shift, a watchdog group that calls for reforming the Railroad Commission, says the agency has a poor track record when it comes to protecting Texans from explosions, leaks and other problems with wells and pipelines. In a statement, commission spokesperson Patty Ramon said the agency has "protected public safety and the environment for more than a century." The agency does pipeline inspections regularly and has exceeded Legislative performance goals, Ramon added. These advocates are up against wealthy, politically powerful companies that say making hydrogen from natural gas with carbon capture is a ready solution to start lowering how much carbon dioxide escapes into the atmosphere — even if it’s imperfect. “I find this polarization of seeking perfect at the expense of very good is problematic,” Chris Greig, a senior research scientist with the Andlinger Center for Energy and the Environment at Princeton University, said in an interview. “And, to be clear, the distrust (of oil and gas companies) is not unwarranted, right? There’s been some wrongs done,” Greig added. “But somehow we have to set that aside and find some sort of middle ground.” Disclosure: Exxon Mobil Corporation and Texas Southern University - Barbara Jordan-Mickey Leland School of Public Affairs have been financial supporters of The Texas Tribune, a nonprofit, nonpartisan news organization that is funded in part by donations from members, foundations and corporate sponsors. Financial supporters play no role in the Tribune's journalism. Find a complete list of them here. We can’t wait to welcome you to downtown Austin Sept. 5-7 for the 2024 Texas Tribune Festival! Join us at Texas’ breakout politics and policy event as we dig into the 2024 elections, state and national politics, the state of democracy, and so much more. When tickets go on sale this spring, Tribune members will save big. Donate to join or renew today.

UN: Droughts hit women and girls hardest in vulnerable areas

In poor and rural regions around the globe, women and girls bear the brunt of drought's impacts, underscoring the need for water strategies to address their unique challenges, according to the United Nations.Fiona Harvey reports for The Guardian.In short:The UN's world water development report calls for enhanced global cooperation on water resources to mitigate conflicts and improve conditions for women and girls.Access to clean water and safe sanitation significantly affect women's and girls' education and safety in disadvantaged areas.Conflicts over water, exacerbated by climate change, pollution and overuse, pose risks of local and regional disputes, impacting food security and health.Key quote:"As water stress increases, so do the risks of local or regional conflict."— Audrey Azoulay, director general of UNESCOWhy this matters:Climate-related water stress significantly impacts communities worldwide, but its effects tend to be more acute for women and girls, who often bear the brunt of environmental crises. Due to traditional roles and socio-economic factors, women and girls are primarily responsible for water collection in many cultures. This task becomes increasingly arduous and time-consuming as water scarcity, exacerbated by climate change, forces them to travel longer distances.Bangladesh is on the front lines of a water crisis driven by climate change and politics. There, as in many other countries, women are made especially vulnerable by safe drinking water shortages.

In poor and rural regions around the globe, women and girls bear the brunt of drought's impacts, underscoring the need for water strategies to address their unique challenges, according to the United Nations.Fiona Harvey reports for The Guardian.In short:The UN's world water development report calls for enhanced global cooperation on water resources to mitigate conflicts and improve conditions for women and girls.Access to clean water and safe sanitation significantly affect women's and girls' education and safety in disadvantaged areas.Conflicts over water, exacerbated by climate change, pollution and overuse, pose risks of local and regional disputes, impacting food security and health.Key quote:"As water stress increases, so do the risks of local or regional conflict."— Audrey Azoulay, director general of UNESCOWhy this matters:Climate-related water stress significantly impacts communities worldwide, but its effects tend to be more acute for women and girls, who often bear the brunt of environmental crises. Due to traditional roles and socio-economic factors, women and girls are primarily responsible for water collection in many cultures. This task becomes increasingly arduous and time-consuming as water scarcity, exacerbated by climate change, forces them to travel longer distances.Bangladesh is on the front lines of a water crisis driven by climate change and politics. There, as in many other countries, women are made especially vulnerable by safe drinking water shortages.

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