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Designing for better lives

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Friday, March 17, 2023

Even though Flavio Emilio Vila Skrzypek left his native country of Peru to study at MIT, you can tell immediately that his homeland is close to his heart. Vila, who is pursuing a master’s in city planning, has made it his mission to improve land-use policy back home. “Property policies in Peru should learn from the failure of past policies,” he says. “Informal settlements, which have been established outside of the ‘formal systems’ of housing supply and are commonly referred to as slums, are seen as a problem, as a mistake in the way of urban growth. The state has accepted ‘slums’ as inevitable, but I want Peru to learn from these circumstances.” Vila’s career in urban planning began as an interest in architecture and art. “Architecture was an immediate match,” he says; he greatly enjoyed his architecture classes at the University of Lima. But after he graduated, the day-to-day life of a practicing architect came as an unpleasant shock: “To be honest, I rapidly learned that architectural design was not my passion. At some point, I knew I had to quit.” Instead, Vila got a job at the Ministry of Housing in Peru. “That was the moment I found out what I wanted to do in life. Working for my country was the best thing I could do. In my previous work, I had been working in the private sector for the profit of large corporations. Now, I was working to make my country better,” he says. Unfortunately, a budget cut ended his career there, but he found a role as teaching assistant and began to explore research — a path that would lead him to MIT. “The ultimate tribute” Vila’s first research experiences spanned a vast array of different design projects. In conjunction with various nonprofit organizations, he developed a water resilience proposal for a local municipality, designed a school for an indigenous community in the jungle, and generated a method to build mud dwellings for a town in the Andes. During the course of these projects, he witnessed a wide range of social and economic conditions across Peru. “I was born in Lima and I lived all my life in Lima. Visiting different indigenous communities in the Amazon rainforest and the Andes made me realize that these are the types of people that I want to work for,” he says. Vila began building a startup that focused on mitigating social conflicts between indigenous communities and mining corporations. After working there for several years he knew that, to have the biggest impact on his native country, he first needed to arm himself with knowledge. He says, “I knew I needed to become better in order to make this place better.” When he applied to MIT, Vila already had a specific research topic in mind: how environmental policy could shape the conflict between Indigenous communities and extractive industries like mining. Initially, he took on a project as part of MIT’s Enhancing Water Affordability project, using hotspot maps to understand water affordability issues in several cities across the United States. “However, the journey of the degree has taken me to another place,” he explains. Vila’s thesis work has pivoted to focus on the systematic inequity of urban systems, the structures of informal settlements, and developing policies to upgrade those settlements. Ultimately, he hopes to use his master’s to contribute to the decolonization of land and property regimes in Peru. His research as a Fulbright scholar at MIT is inspired, in part, by Rubina Maravi, a rural immigrant from the Andes whom he describes as “a humble and brave woman that raised me side by side with my mother.” Vila tells the emotional story of Maravi’s difficult peasant life as a squatter on land in an informal settlement in Lima. Her struggle to obtain a land title has lasted for decades, with no resolution in sight. He says, “to carry indigenous people like Rubina, who are considered so insignificant in Peru, into a space of research at the best university in the world is the ultimate tribute. It is giving them the space that they should have in life.” For Vila, living with two women from such different circumstances — his mother, an inherently privileged Limeña woman, and Maravi, an indigenous woman who lacked many of the advantages that his mother had — underscored the inequities in Peruvian society. He recognizes his innate good fortune because of his heritage. “I am super aware that part of the reason that I am at MIT is because I did not have to work during my childhood to help my family make ends meet. I grew up with sewage and electricity, a privilege that many in Peru did not have,” he says. A “cable to Earth” Vila conducts his thesis work under the guidance of Gabriella Carolini, an MIT associate professor of urban planning and international development. When he started graduate school, his technical skills in R and other programming tools were limited. But Carolini gave him a chance to learn. “I was committed to improving my R skills in the short term, and she gave me the opportunity,” he says. He is famous in his department for knitting during class and gifting his creations to family and friends. “I suffer from anxiety, so taking everything inside and channeling it into my knitting is super relaxing,” he says. His interest in knitting started when he watched Tom Daley, an Olympic diver, knit as a way to relieve his competition nerves during the 2020 Olympics television broadcast. He also noticed the contrast between Tom Daley’s calm demeanor and the fierce competitiveness of other athletes. “At the same Olympics,” he says, “I saw tennis player Novak Djokovic smash his racket when he lost a point. I realized that was not the kind of masculinity I wanted.” When Vila visited Peru in December 2021, his mother gifted him his late grandmother’s knitting needles and he taught himself the technique by watching YouTube videos. When offering advice to future students, Vila points out that a mindset of growth and open-mindedness is critical to the graduate school experience. The challenge of pursuing a degree leads to growth far beyond academic learning, he notes. That personal growth “will ultimately reveal your true self.” “I never closed myself to anything,” he says. “In life, I have always been bouncing between different things, from jobs in the private, public, social impact, and academic sectors. In that bounce, you eventually find your path. Now in my degree, I have been bouncing between different topics and courses. But in the end, you will find your way.” Vila maintains that open-mindedness when he contemplates his options for the future. He says, “the degree has been so immersive in so many areas of my life and has reframed my perspective on my future goals. The only certainty that I have right now is that I want to work for the developing world and more specifically, Peru. I don’t know in what type of organization: academia, the public sector, a think tank, an international organization.” Vila describes his work as his “cable to Earth,” adding, “I want my work to make someone’s life better. This is what I wanted as a child, as an undergrad, and now. This is what will decide my way in the future.”

Flavio Emilio Vila Skrzypek, a graduate student in the Department of Urban Studies and Planning, wants to design cities without inequities.

Even though Flavio Emilio Vila Skrzypek left his native country of Peru to study at MIT, you can tell immediately that his homeland is close to his heart. Vila, who is pursuing a master’s in city planning, has made it his mission to improve land-use policy back home.

“Property policies in Peru should learn from the failure of past policies,” he says. “Informal settlements, which have been established outside of the ‘formal systems’ of housing supply and are commonly referred to as slums, are seen as a problem, as a mistake in the way of urban growth. The state has accepted ‘slums’ as inevitable, but I want Peru to learn from these circumstances.”

Vila’s career in urban planning began as an interest in architecture and art. “Architecture was an immediate match,” he says; he greatly enjoyed his architecture classes at the University of Lima. But after he graduated, the day-to-day life of a practicing architect came as an unpleasant shock: “To be honest, I rapidly learned that architectural design was not my passion. At some point, I knew I had to quit.”

Instead, Vila got a job at the Ministry of Housing in Peru. “That was the moment I found out what I wanted to do in life. Working for my country was the best thing I could do. In my previous work, I had been working in the private sector for the profit of large corporations. Now, I was working to make my country better,” he says. Unfortunately, a budget cut ended his career there, but he found a role as teaching assistant and began to explore research — a path that would lead him to MIT.

“The ultimate tribute”

Vila’s first research experiences spanned a vast array of different design projects. In conjunction with various nonprofit organizations, he developed a water resilience proposal for a local municipality, designed a school for an indigenous community in the jungle, and generated a method to build mud dwellings for a town in the Andes. During the course of these projects, he witnessed a wide range of social and economic conditions across Peru. “I was born in Lima and I lived all my life in Lima. Visiting different indigenous communities in the Amazon rainforest and the Andes made me realize that these are the types of people that I want to work for,” he says.

Vila began building a startup that focused on mitigating social conflicts between indigenous communities and mining corporations. After working there for several years he knew that, to have the biggest impact on his native country, he first needed to arm himself with knowledge. He says, “I knew I needed to become better in order to make this place better.”

When he applied to MIT, Vila already had a specific research topic in mind: how environmental policy could shape the conflict between Indigenous communities and extractive industries like mining. Initially, he took on a project as part of MIT’s Enhancing Water Affordability project, using hotspot maps to understand water affordability issues in several cities across the United States.

“However, the journey of the degree has taken me to another place,” he explains. Vila’s thesis work has pivoted to focus on the systematic inequity of urban systems, the structures of informal settlements, and developing policies to upgrade those settlements. Ultimately, he hopes to use his master’s to contribute to the decolonization of land and property regimes in Peru.

His research as a Fulbright scholar at MIT is inspired, in part, by Rubina Maravi, a rural immigrant from the Andes whom he describes as “a humble and brave woman that raised me side by side with my mother.” Vila tells the emotional story of Maravi’s difficult peasant life as a squatter on land in an informal settlement in Lima. Her struggle to obtain a land title has lasted for decades, with no resolution in sight. He says, “to carry indigenous people like Rubina, who are considered so insignificant in Peru, into a space of research at the best university in the world is the ultimate tribute. It is giving them the space that they should have in life.”

For Vila, living with two women from such different circumstances — his mother, an inherently privileged Limeña woman, and Maravi, an indigenous woman who lacked many of the advantages that his mother had — underscored the inequities in Peruvian society. He recognizes his innate good fortune because of his heritage. “I am super aware that part of the reason that I am at MIT is because I did not have to work during my childhood to help my family make ends meet. I grew up with sewage and electricity, a privilege that many in Peru did not have,” he says.

A “cable to Earth”

Vila conducts his thesis work under the guidance of Gabriella Carolini, an MIT associate professor of urban planning and international development. When he started graduate school, his technical skills in R and other programming tools were limited. But Carolini gave him a chance to learn. “I was committed to improving my R skills in the short term, and she gave me the opportunity,” he says.

He is famous in his department for knitting during class and gifting his creations to family and friends. “I suffer from anxiety, so taking everything inside and channeling it into my knitting is super relaxing,” he says. His interest in knitting started when he watched Tom Daley, an Olympic diver, knit as a way to relieve his competition nerves during the 2020 Olympics television broadcast. He also noticed the contrast between Tom Daley’s calm demeanor and the fierce competitiveness of other athletes. “At the same Olympics,” he says, “I saw tennis player Novak Djokovic smash his racket when he lost a point. I realized that was not the kind of masculinity I wanted.” When Vila visited Peru in December 2021, his mother gifted him his late grandmother’s knitting needles and he taught himself the technique by watching YouTube videos.

When offering advice to future students, Vila points out that a mindset of growth and open-mindedness is critical to the graduate school experience. The challenge of pursuing a degree leads to growth far beyond academic learning, he notes. That personal growth “will ultimately reveal your true self.”

“I never closed myself to anything,” he says. “In life, I have always been bouncing between different things, from jobs in the private, public, social impact, and academic sectors. In that bounce, you eventually find your path. Now in my degree, I have been bouncing between different topics and courses. But in the end, you will find your way.”

Vila maintains that open-mindedness when he contemplates his options for the future. He says, “the degree has been so immersive in so many areas of my life and has reframed my perspective on my future goals. The only certainty that I have right now is that I want to work for the developing world and more specifically, Peru. I don’t know in what type of organization: academia, the public sector, a think tank, an international organization.” Vila describes his work as his “cable to Earth,” adding, “I want my work to make someone’s life better. This is what I wanted as a child, as an undergrad, and now. This is what will decide my way in the future.”

Read the full story here.
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Has Not Occurred in Almost 100 Years – Scientists Discover New Unusual Genus of Fairy Lantern

A new species and genus of fairy lantern, tiny glass-like white plants that feed on fungi, has been discovered in Japan. In the country renowned...

The newly discovered plant Relictithismia kimotsukiensis probably diverged at an early stage in the evolution of the whole family and retains ancestral characteristics. This history is reflected in the plant’s name. Credit: Suetsugu KenjiA new species and genus of fairy lantern, tiny glass-like white plants that feed on fungi, has been discovered in Japan. In the country renowned for its extensive flora research, the discovery of a new plant genus is extremely rare and has not occurred in almost 100 years.Fairy lanterns, or Thismiaceae as they are known to botany, are very unusual plants found mainly in tropical but also in subtropical and temperate regions. First of all, they are not green and do not engage in photosynthesis, but rather feed on fungal mycelia in the ground. As a consequence, they are often hidden under fallen leaves and only for a brief period produce above-ground flowers that look like glasswork.The Japanese name for Thismia, one of the major groups within this family, is “Tanuki-no-shokudai,” which means “raccoon dog’s candleholder” and refers both to their shape and their underground lifestyle. However, they are also extremely rare and difficult to find. Discovery and Research“At present, approximately 100 species within the family have been identified, nearly half of which are known only from their first discovery, sometimes from a single specimen,” explains Kobe University botanist Suetsugu Kenji, who is an internationally renowned expert on non-photosynthetic plants.One of the most intriguing unique characteristics of the newly described Relictithismia kimotsukiensis is that its stamens (the male part of the plant) touch the stigma (the female part), thus facilitating self-pollination. This adaptation is likely advantageous for a plant that lives under fallen leaves in dark forests where pollinators are scarce. Credit: Tagane ShuichiroSuetsugu has long-standing collaborations with local botanists who have access to secluded areas all over Japan. He says, “The dedication of Japanese amateur researchers to revealing the hidden flora of these regions has been crucial in identifying species unknown to science.” And so, when he was sent a specimen of a fairy lantern that a hobby botanist had found and that a local expert thought represented a new species of the genus of Tanuki-no-shokudai, he knew he had to investigate.However, it soon became clear “that this plant was not included in any of the existing genera (such as Thismia) because of its unique features, and it became necessary to obtain additional individuals for further examination.” So, he went to Kimotsuki in Kagoshima Prefecture, where the discovery had been made, but could not find any other samples. However, a year later he tried again and got lucky: They found four more plants, all in the same narrow area.The analysis of the newly discovered Relictithismia kimotsukiensis showed that it is different enough from all known genera of Thismiaceae to warrant its classification as an entirely new genus. “Our expertise in various aspects of botany enabled us to merge traditional taxonomic methods with modern molecular techniques, offering a comprehensive approach to our research,” says Kobe University botanist Suetsugu Kenji. Credit: Tagane ShuichiroA New Genus UnveiledThe Kobe University expert now published his analysis in the scientific Journal of Plant Research. Based both on morphological and genetic analysis, the team concluded that the plant is not only a new species, but in fact different enough from Tanuki-no-shokudai to be a different genus — the next level of relationship above species.The researchers think the plant probably diverged at an early stage in the evolution of the whole Thismiaceae family and retains characteristics that are common to the family but have been lost in the Thismia genus. This is the reason Suetsugu chose the name “Mujina-no-shokudai,” or “badger’s candleholder”: “Mujina” is an old Japanese word for a badger, but sometimes has also been used for the raccoon dog which it resembles but is different from. Thus, the name reflects the plant’s relationship with Thismia. The Latin name Relictithismia kimotsukiensis is similar, as it can be translated as “Thismia relict of Kimotsuki.”Members of the family Thismiaceae feed on fungal mycelia in the ground. As a consequence, they are often hidden under fallen leaves and only for a brief period produce above-ground flowers that look like glasswork. Credit: Tagane Shuichiro“Japan is one of the regions in the world where botanical surveys are most advanced, making the discovery of new plant species extremely rare, and the discovery of a new genus even more so,” says Suetsugu. In fact, the last discovery of a new vascular plant concurrently identified as a separate genus was the discovery of Japonolirion in 1930, almost 100 years ago. Suetsugu explains, “This research might suggest that many other new species may be hiding in regions previously thought to be well-studied and underscores the critical need for ongoing exploration and investigation of the planet’s flora both abroad and at home.”A plant that feeds on fungi and is so limited in its local spread is also exceptionally vulnerable to environmental change. This motivates Suetsugu to deepen his research, saying, “A segment of our future research will be dedicated to ecological studies aimed at deciphering the interactions between Relictithismia and its fungal hosts, in addition to assessing the impact of environmental alterations on these associations.”Reference: “Relictithismia kimotsukiensis, a new genus and species of Thismiaceae from southern Japan with discussions on its phylogenetic relationship” by Kenji Suetsugu, Yasunori Nakamura, Takafumi Nakano and Shuichiro Tagane, 29 February 2024, Journal of Plant Research.DOI: 10.1007/s10265-024-01532-5This study was supported by the PRESTO program (grant JPMJPR21D6) of the Japan Science and Technology Agency, the JSPS KAKENHI (grant 21K06307), and the Environment Research and Technology Development Fund (grant JPMEERF20204001) of the Ministry of the Environment, Japan. It was conducted in collaboration with an independent researcher and researchers from Kyoto University and the Kagoshima University Museum.

California’s concerning embrace of a new forest biomass industry

Questions about environmental safety and community health loom over the greenwashed industry and proposed export scheme.

Gloria Alonso Cruz had only just started working on environmental justice issues at a community organization in Stockton, California when she learned about a proposal to sell wood pellets from the town’s port to overseas energy markets.  Golden State Natural Resources plans to construct two wood pellet plants in Lassen and Tuolumne counties, about 250 miles north of Stockton, with the goal of exporting a million tons a year. While forest-based biomass may sound innocuous, every part of the pellet production chain bears an environmental justice or pollution risk, says Rita Vaughan Frost, forest advocate at Natural Resources Defense Council.  First, trees are logged and stacked on trucks to be driven to processing facilities. There, the wood is turned into small pellets, similar to rabbit food. Then, diesel trucks transport the material hundreds of miles to a shipping facility and export terminal, like the Port of Stockton—where storage poses a fire risk. The pellets are later shipped to markets in Europe and Asia, where they’re burned to create electricity, generating carbon emissions.  Golden State Natural Resource’s proposal would allow it to harvest trees from forests within 100 miles of the two processing plants. This radius includes sixteen national forests in a region known for its critical biodiversity. A 20-year master stewardship agreement established with the U.S. Forest Service will allow the company to harvest from public lands through 2045, when the state is slated to achieve carbon neutrality.  Many might be surprised to learn that burning wood pellets causes more pollution per unit of electricity than coal does, says Dr. Shaye Wolf, the climate science director at the Center for Biological Diversity. “It’s worsening the climate emergency at a time when we’ve got to be rapidly cutting those carbon emissions,” Wolf says.  In Stockton, the threat of logging exports compounds environmental injustices that already exist. State laws don’t prevent companies from building polluting facilities in already-overburdened areas, nor is there any statute or legal framework that forces corporations to consider federal goals of transitioning toward renewable energy sources.   This means there are no federal or state guardrails to protect against the fact that “developers are not accounting for cumulative impacts, [or] the fact that these natural resources are finite,” Cruz says. In fact, Stockton already has a lot of pollution: It ranks in the 90th percentile statewide, according to CalEnviroScreen, an environmental hazard mapping tool. Compared with other cities across California, Stockton’s has some of the highest overall exposure to toxins like ozone, particulate matter, and groundwater threats.  Cruz says that is intentional, noting the communities of color and farmworkers who live and work in the state’s Central Valley have always shouldered the public health consequences that industries leave in their wake. In fact, California funneled public funds to the biomass industry in the 1980s and 1990s to support the construction of factories in low-income communities. Now, the wood pellet biomass industry and Golden State Natural Resources are poised to make the situation worse. In 2015, the state approved a new law that requires polluting corporations, like the wood pellet industry, to pay for environmental justice projects in disadvantaged cities like Stockon, but advocates like Cruz argue that corporations shouldn’t be allowed to pollute in the first place. Across the state, at least four active biomass plants are in census tracts that face the worst pollution burden.  Looking at how the biomass industry currently operates in the Southeastern United States heightens residents’ worries. Companies there have a track record of preying on overburdened, under-resourced communities, says Vaughan Frost. In the South, pellet mills are 50% more likely to be placed in communities of color that fall below the state poverty line. Although the industry likes to talk about providing jobs, in one North Carolina community, the poverty rate actually increased after a wood pellet production plant began operations.  Wherever pellet mills take root, pollution soon follows. A powerful odor, akin to plastic burning in a campfire, often emanates from these processing facilities. Heather Hillaker, an attorney with the Southern Environmental Law Center, says that processing the wood creates volatile organic compounds, which mix with other pollutants to create ground level ozone and smog. Processing facilities also release toxins like formaldehyde, methanol, and acrolein, substances that can cause cancer even in small doses.  Hillaker warns that federal standards established by the Clean Air Act don’t take into consideration the multiple forms of pollution that overburdened communities face, she says.  “I’ve not really seen the pellet industry directly address, in any kind of meaningful way, the environmental justice impacts of their operations in the South,” Hillaker says. She explains they often argue “We are complying with our permits and therefore we’re not causing any harm.” But she says, “That’s not an accurate representation of what’s actually happening in these local communities.”  Vaughan Frost is concerned that Golden State Natural Resources will similarly undermine the health and wellbeing of California communities.  Vaughan Frost believes the industry is “exploiting the state’s traumatic experience of catastrophic wildfires to sell their plan.” The company claims that cutting down forests will provide less fuel for wildfires—a claim that the state of California has historically parroted. Many scientists disagree. One recent study found that in fire-prone western states, emissions related to broad-scale thinning biomass harvest were five times greater than those related to wildfire. California also has a history of lumping in wood pellet biomass as a “renewable” energy source, which critics say obfuscates the compounding climate threats of the industry. She says these claims—that logging can prevent wildfires and create renewable energy— are a distraction from legitimate wildfire prevention strategies, like home hardening and vegetation management.  Advocates worry that once the forest is gone, recovery will be difficult. The wood pellet industry will soon be making incursions throughout the Sierra Nevadas, a much-loved mountain range that regularly draws outdoor tourists. Though the industry pledges to replant what they log, as climate change intensifies, there’s no guarantee monoculture saplings will be able to provide the same ecosystem services that the logged forest once did.  With abundant wind and solar energy available, Vaughan Frost says, “We do not need to sacrifice California forests and communities for this.” NRDC (Natural Resources Defense Council) is an international nonprofit environmental organization with more than 3 million members and online activists. Established in 1970, NRDC uses science, policy, law, and people power to confront the climate crisis, protect public health, and safeguard nature. NRDC has offices in New York City, Washington, D.C., Los Angeles, San Francisco, Chicago, Bozeman, MT, Beijing and Delhi (an office of NRDC India Pvt. Ltd). Learn more at http://www.nrdc.org and follow on Twitter @NRDC. LEARN MORE This story was originally published by Grist with the headline California’s concerning embrace of a new forest biomass industry on Mar 20, 2024.

The Shocking Truth About Sloths

As their forests disappear, sloths are climbing on dangerous power lines. Veterinarians and rescue centers are developing new techniques to help. The post The Shocking Truth About Sloths appeared first on The Revelator.

Sloths are the darlings of the internet. Their mouths naturally turn up, making them look like they’re always smiling. They’re the embodiment of chill, with the slowest metabolism of any non-hibernating mammal. On social media posts, there are photos and drawing of sloths, many with humorous or encouraging sayings celebrating sloths’ slowness and sleepiness. “Slow down and enjoy life,” one reads. Of course, the real lives of sloths aren’t so Instagrammable. Throughout the range of the seven sloth species in Central and South America, the animals face many challenges to their survival, including dog bites, getting hit by vehicles, and electrocution. Each of these are the consequences of deforestation, says Adriana Aguilar Borbon, marketing and environmental education manager for Proyecto Asís Wildlife Sanctuary in San Carlos, Costa Rica and a member of the International Union for Conservation of Nature Species Survival Commission Anteater, Sloth and Armadillo Specialist Group. Electrocution is one of the main reasons sloths are admitted to wildlife rescue centers, says Ana María Villada Rosales, a veterinarian at The Sloth Institute in Manual Antonio, Costa Rica. Sloths get electrocuted when they use uninsulated power lines to travel across the forest canopy, instead of branches and vines. In one recent year, over 20% of the sloths treated at the Toucan Rescue Ranch in San Josecito, Costa Rica had electrocution injuries, according to Janet Sandi, its veterinary director. The actual number of electrocuted sloths is bigger than what her organization sees, Sandi says, because many of the sloths they treat are orphans whose mothers have died from their injuries. Perilous Power Road crossings are particularly perilous for sloths. Often branches are cleared away, leaving power and telephone lines as the only way to move over the road. Sloths are not alone. All over the world, wildlife is electrocuted by powerlines. Scientific literature describes the electrocution of elephants in India; vultures in South Africa; macaws in Brazil; eagles in the United States, Argentina and Spain; and lots of primates. “Pretty much everywhere there are monkeys, they get electrocuted,” says James F. Dwyer, a wildlife biologist who studies wildlife interactions with electrical equipment for the utility consulting firm EDM International in Fort Collins, Colorado. It’s not just monkeys. The scientific literature describes the electrocution of primates such as langurs in India and Sri Lanka; Java slow lorises in Indonesia; Angolan black-and-white colobus, Sykes monkeys, white-tailed small-eared galagos, vervet monkeys, and northern yellow baboons in Kenya; and howler monkeys in Brazil. Especially for smaller primates, electrocution from a power line is often fatal, Sandi says. Other, even smaller, animals like squirrels can scamper down a bare electrical wire unharmed, Dwyer says, because electricity will only flow through an animal if it is touching two energized wires, or an energized wire and a path to ground. Sloths and primates are large enough to reach two uninsulated wires at the same time. Transformers and cross-arms have connections that are closer together, allowing even small squirrels to touch two exposed wires, which is why squirrels are the most electrocuted animals in the United States — and the most common cause of power outages, according to Dwyer. But in most of the world, the cross arms of transmission poles are made of metal, he says, and sometimes the pole is made of metal too, providing even more opportunity for wildlife electrocution. In some cases, electrocution deaths endanger a species. Electrocution is the leading cause of death in adult golden eagles, according to the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service. In Kazakhstan recently, Dwyer saw photos of thousands of electrocuted saker falcons, listed as endangered on the IUCN Red List, under power lines across the steppe. Saving Sloths Requires Innovation The electrocution wounds sloths experience can be severe, burning away flesh to the tendons and even to the bone. If the burn reaches the bone, often an entire limb must be amputated to save the sloth’s life, sloth veterinarians say. An amputee sloth in the forest. Photo: Janet Sandi, used with permission. While in treatment, sloths belie their chill reputation. “These guys are really feisty,” Sandi says. “They can bite hard and cause infections. We usually need four people to hold them to give them an injection.” But their slow metabolism means that sloths heal slowly. Bandage changes can be painful for the sloths, and because of both the sloths’ pain and the veterinarians’ safety, many sloths need to be put under anesthesia for each bandage change, which, for traditional bandages, typically happens daily. General anesthesia poses some risk to sloths, just as it does to humans. Because of this, Sandi and Villada were intrigued when they learned that bears who had been burned in California’s 2018 Thomas fire healed more quickly, with fewer bandage changes, when treated with bandages made from the sterilized skin of a commonly eaten and farmed fish, the tilapia. In the United States, people who suffer burns are often treated with donated human skin, pig skin or an artificial substitute. These materials are not widely available in places such as Brazil, which has innovated the use of sterilized tilapia skin to treat burns in humans. Villada and Sandi wanted to have as much information as possible before trying the technique, so they thought about who in their local veterinary network had experience using tilapia skin bandages. Meanwhile Isabel Hagnauer, a veterinarian at Rescate Wildlife Rescue Center in Alajuela, Costa Rica, was facing a similar issue with the sloths in her care. “Of the 14 two-toed sloths we treated in 2023, five had been electrocuted. We also cared for two baby two-toed sloths orphaned by electrocution.” In Hagnauer’s case, it was news about a burned mountain lion, from the same California fire, that made her eager to try tilapia skin bandages on recovering sloths. For all three veterinarians, the Costa Rican colleague with the expertise they were looking for was Pricilla Ortiz, a veterinarian mostly working with dogs and cats who was so impressed with the benefits of tilapia skin on her patients that she started a company to sell the bandages. “Using the tilapia skin, I was able to reduce the amount of antibiotics and analgesics [pain relievers] I was giving,” Ortiz says. “The best part was not having to stress the animals with bandage changes.” The translation of the bandage techniques from dogs to sloths was not completely smooth. Some of the first two-toed sloths they bandaged with tilapia skin, Villada says, promptly ate the bandage. After that, the team put loose cloth bandages over the tilapia skin to eliminate bandage snacking. Veterinarians apply a tilapia skin bandage. Photo: Janet Sandi, used with permission. On dogs, a tilapia skin bandage typically lasts about 10 days, Ortiz says. But Sandi and Villada noticed that some sloths were showing signs of infection after the tilapia skin bandages had been in place for as little as five days. The solution was simple: more frequent bandage changes. Even changing a bandage every five days was a huge improvement over changing them daily. For veterinarians, and for everyone working at sloth rescue centers across their range, the biggest heartbreak of electrocuted sloths is that even when the animals’ external wounds are healing nicely, they often die after a few weeks of internal injuries, which may not show symptoms. Of course, the best remedy would be to prevent electrocutions in the first place. In Costa Rica, several nonprofits erect rope bridges over roads to protect sloths and monkeys. In the United States, Dwyer says, California utility companies have found success with plastic covers for power lines, transformers and other power equipment in places where hawks and eagles get electrocuted. Installing the covers is expensive, Dwyer says. While the covers themselves are low-cost, the expense of sending utility workers to remote locations is significant. Aguilar says Proyecto Asís Wildlife Sanctuary has been successful working with communities in Costa Rica to report places where wildlife are being electrocuted and getting the power company to install protective plastic covers. Saving Every Sloth However, Aguilar believes that sloths’ internet popularity is a threat that overshadows all the threats that are bringing sloths to rescue centers. Veterinarians see the animals that die of electrocution, vehicle strikes and dog bites. What they don’t see, she says, is the sloths that die after being brought from table to table at tourist restaurants for $10 sloth selfies, while also being mistreated by their handlers. “When the sloth dies, they just get another,” she says. Is the treatment of electrocution injuries helping sloths survive as species? While conservation biologists working with other species may disagree on the value of saving individual animals, sloth experts agree that every animal matters when there is so little known about these species. While the pygmy three-toed sloth is critically endangered and the maned sloth is vulnerable, less is known about the four common sloth species that are currently considered “least concern” on the IUCN Red List. “We don’t really know all that much about sloth populations,” says Monique Pool, founder and director of the Green Heritage Foundation and a member of the IUCN SSC specialist group for sloths and their kin. “I can only confidently say something about the sloth populations in greater Paramaribo,” Suriname’s capital city, where the Green Heritage Foundation is located. Pool feels some of the most commonly cited studies of sloth populations greatly overestimate their numbers. “My biologist friends feel differently about the rescue and rehabilitation work that we do,” Pool says. “Our goal is to maintain viable sloth populations in urban areas. For us, every life matters.” “Rehabilitation is part of conservation,” says Tinka Plese, founder and director of Aiunau, a Caldas, Columbia-based sloth, anteater and armadillo conservation organization and a member of the IUCN SSC specialist group for those animals. “Every animal we can return to the wild helps.” A rescued sloth returns to the trees. Photo: Janet Sandi, used with permission. Once it was thought that sloth amputees and sloths that had been in human care for longer periods could not be released into the wild. But both The Sloth Institute and Rescate Wildlife Rescue Center track the sloths they release and have found that many live long, healthy lives. Hagnauer says a sloth that was released after a partial arm amputation has lived free within the rescue center’s 19 hectare (47 acre) grounds, often appearing with her babies, for nine years. Another popular sloth, nicknamed Don Lupe, was released in 2021 after a complete arm amputation and was recently seen in the wild. Sloths that survive electrocution are creating a reputation for grit over chill. Sandi recalls a time when she placed a sloth that had just had surgery to amputate a limb near a tree in an enclosure at the Toucan Rescue Ranch. She went to get a cup of coffee, figuring it would be a long time before this slowest of mammals made a move. But when she came back, the sloth was gone. She looked up, and there it was, in the branches. “I said, ‘Oh gosh, these guys are really strong.’” Previously in The Revelator: How Social Media Supports Animal Cruelty and the Illegal Pet Trade The post The Shocking Truth About Sloths appeared first on The Revelator.

A Florida neighborhood says an old factory made them sick. Now developers want to kick up toxic soil

Residents already hit with disease are fighting the multibillion-dollar corporation DR Horton, America’s largest homebuilder Kristen Burke and her husband, Harold, moved into their home in Russell Landing, a rural suburb just outside of Jacksonville, Florida, nearly 15 years ago. The quiet and tight-knit neighborhood sits next to a shaggy pine forest and a blackwater canal. “This was our dream home,” said Burke.It wasn’t until 2018 that she realized the extent of the pollution lurking next door: according to Burke, who recently became part of a local watchdog effort, an industrial plant that once operated nearby left barrels of toxic waste buried in the ground and never came back to clean up. Continue reading...

Kristen Burke and her husband, Harold, moved into their home in Russell Landing, a rural suburb just outside of Jacksonville, Florida, nearly 15 years ago. The quiet and tight-knit neighborhood sits next to a shaggy pine forest and a blackwater canal. “This was our dream home,” said Burke.It wasn’t until 2018 that she realized the extent of the pollution lurking next door: according to Burke, who recently became part of a local watchdog effort, an industrial plant that once operated nearby left barrels of toxic waste buried in the ground and never came back to clean up.Just beyond the chain-link fence at the end of their street, many of these 50-gallon drums can still be seen poking up out of the ground. The neighborhood knew about the abandoned factory, which shut down in the 1990s. But now residents and former employees say that the contents of these barrels, along with groundwater and air pollution that government agencies failed to adequately regulate for decades, have contributed to a pattern of cancers, heart disease, birth defects and genetic disorders.In recent years, Burke and her neighbors have grown more vocal about the health risks of living in Russell Landing, as developers have eyed the former plant’s property with the goal of building new housing to stanch Florida’s affordability crisis.“The fear is that if excavators start kicking up those soils and clear-cutting trees, [then] all the waste is coming our way again,” Burke said. “Every day I have people asking me if it’s safe to live here.”Every day I have people asking me if it’s safe to live hereLast August, Burke started a citizen advocacy group alongside other members of the community whose lives have been affected by Solite, the corporation that owned the plant until it closed in 1995. Burke, who ran and was elected to the county commission in 2020, said she and others were tired of not having their concerns taken seriously by local environmental regulators and politicians. The group recently paid for soil and groundwater testing to measure the spread of toxins outside of the plant. Those results, which came back last October, indicated the presence of toxic metals such as cadmium, barium, lead, chromium and arsenic.The testing proved what the community had alleged for years: that waste had migrated off-site and, in some cases, into residents’ backyards.Another revelation followed that hastened the group’s advocacy. Weeks later, Burke and her neighbors learned that a 78-acre parcel of land within the former Solite property had been sold and was under contract for development with DR Horton, a multibillion-dollar corporation and America’s largest homebuilder.The Northeast Solite Corporation, as it’s known today, opened its first quarry in Clay county, Florida, in the 1950s. Workers mined clay and shale from the property, which was then burned in rotary kilns at high temperatures to produce a lightweight cement aggregate. The material has been used to build some of the most iconic structures in America, including the US Capitol, the Freedom Tower and the deck of the original Chesapeake Bay Bridge.In the 1960s, Solite began using hazardous waste, instead of more costly fossil fuels, to fire the kilns. Solite was contracted by other companies to dispose of such hazardous waste, which allowed the corporation to bring in revenue while also acquiring a fuel source for its kilns at no added cost. Kodak, General Electric, Revlon, Benjamin Moore and various military bases in the south-east all paid Solite – and its sister company, Oldover – to dispose of their waste.“Nothing ever left that property,” said Michael Zelinka, 59, a former plant employee, referring to how the materials were either treated, burned in the kilns or otherwise disposed of on-site by being dumped in one of the company’s artificial lakes, or buried in blue barrels.Working at Solite “was hell”, said Zelinka, “and nighttime was always the worst”. That’s when the kilns would burn heaviest, he said. Plumes of black smoke billowed into the sky for hours on end, and employees were ordered to disable the air-quality monitors at the perimeter of the property. Residents who lived nearby recall seeing treetops alight in an otherworldly, orange glow. In the morning, the surrounding area was often blanketed in a thin layer of soot, which was believed by environmental activists and hazardous waste experts to have contained dioxins and other toxic elements and chemical compounds. (A representative from Northeast Solite declined to comment on Zelinka’s account of his time employed at the company.)Since its abrupt closure in 1995, Solite has claimed that there has been no off-site contamination – that all the hazardous waste was safely confined to surface impoundments called the “scrubber” and “overflow” ponds. That claim appears to have been tacitly supported by the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) and the Florida department of environmental protection (FDEP). Although Solite was founded long before those agencies existed, records indicate that both have been aware of chemical spills and malpractice at the plant since the 1980s. Fines for environmental violations had been doled out over the years by both agencies, but no targeted health studies were ever authorized.“Over the past 29 years since the plant’s closure ... we have worked with [EPA] and [FDEP] under consent orders to investigate and remediate the property,” Albert Galliano, a representative of Northeast Solite, wrote in an email. “The results show little impact on the environment.”As for the blue drums, Galliano said that those contained “fiberglass material and debris likely from a water storage tank or culvert pipe”.When the Solite plant shut down in 1995, plans to offload the property to a developer were disclosed shortly after. In 1997, the property title was transferred to Stoneridge Farms, which had previously tried and failed to sell the property.A possible connection between the area’s air, water and soil pollution and its high rate of illness was first publicized in the early 1990s, and it remains the salient anxiety to this day. Prolonged exposure to these contaminants can cause cancer, induce genetic damage and bind to DNA. According to the National Cancer Institute, Clay county has a 36.1% higher cancer rate than the state of Florida, and 47.2% higher rate than the country.In 1996, the EPA issued a consent order requiring cleanup of the 230 acres of surface impoundments, which many residents viewed as an attempt to hold Solite accountable for abandoning the property. As yet, the site has not been forced into full compliance. (EPA did not return a request for comment.)Zelinka said he became worried about the impact Solite was having on his health and the community after he had a near-fatal heart attack in his 20s, which he believed stemmed from the working conditions at the plant. At the time, his doctors found high levels of arsenic in his blood, which is linked to cardiac failure, according to the American Heart Association. Once he’d recovered and returned to work, Zelinka became more vocal about safety concerns. A few weeks later, he was fired.Roughly six months later, in July of 1995, the plant was abandoned overnight. (In the early aughts, Solite plants in Virginia and North Carolina also closed down amid similar violations and circumstances.) The company would cite the rising operating costs, but Susan Armstrong, a local reporter who was present the morning Solite absconded, said it had more to do with the growing din of citizen and environmental activism, pending litigation and fines, and the promise of agencies like the Occupational Safety and Health Administration (OSHA), FDEP and EPA to commence more frequent unscheduled visits.The citizen task force led by Burke, which meets monthly, has become an outlet for residents to vent their frustrations not just about Solite, but about development in their community in general.“I don’t need 900 new houses here,” said Randy Gillis, a resident of Russell Landing with a rare form of prostate cancer. He worries an influx of residents could overwhelm the roads and make it harder for him to make his doctor’s appointments.DR Horton is often invoked among the task force as a common enemy, as is Michael Danhour, the Jacksonville-area developer who has been pursuing the Stoneridge Farms property since 2016 and submitted the proposal for rezoning in 2018. (The proposal was rejected.) He now represents the land trust that sold the development contract to DR Horton in October for the 78-acre parcel.When prompted, Danhour suggested that development is the answer to hazardous contamination. The best way to ensure cleanup, he says, is by offering developers a path toward purchasing the land and rezoning it for housing; in return, the seller will set aside a portion of the sale price for land remediation. “[Developers] will be working alongside Stoneridge Farms to accelerate the cleanup efforts,” said Danhour.He notes that $2m of the $3.3m purchase price of the DR Horton parcel is earmarked for cleaning up the contamination, as stipulated by FDEP. But the task force is quick to point out that the $2m is based on an environmental assessment from several years ago, with incomplete testing.One day there will be development. I can’t stop that even if I want to“We’ve done what we can with limited resources,” says Bruce Reynolds, a retired hazardous waste expert for the US military, who consulted on the task force’s recent testing. Last November, he traveled to Tallahassee to meet with the state environmental department and present the group’s initial findings. Reynolds and the task force now hope the agency will step in to conduct more substantive testing.It seems their advocacy is working – at least for now. In late December, after reviewing the new materials and test results, the state environmental department did an about-face, writing in a letter to Burke and Reynolds that they no longer concur with the Stoneridge Farms claims about the scope of contamination.The department informed Northeast Solite that they won’t approve the company’s current proposal, and that another remediation plan is needed. That plan must be submitted in April. (In an email, Galliano said testing is underway and a report will be developed.)The task force says this marks a seismic shift in the attitude of environmental regulators, one that they’ve awaited for decades.But residents remain circumspect about the future of the property.“I try not to be pessimistic,” said Gillis. “But if I was a betting man, I’d say that [FDEP] will try to tell us this isn’t a worry for the community. One day there will be development. I can’t stop that even if I want to.”

Continued logging of NSW koala habitat is ‘a profound tragedy’, conservationist says

Another campaigner says state environment minister ‘refuses to do anything’ ahead of koala protection summit in SydneyGet our morning and afternoon news emails, free app or daily news podcastLongtime forest advocates have expressed disgust at the ongoing logging of koala habitat in northern New South Wales despite promises the state government would protect the species, with one seasoned campaigner calling the destruction a “profound tragedy”.In September last year, the Minns government ordered a halt to logging operations in certain high value koala habitat – known as “koala hubs” – in the proposed Great Koala national park.Sign up for Guardian Australia’s free morning and afternoon email newsletters for your daily news roundup Continue reading...

Longtime forest advocates have expressed disgust at the ongoing logging of koala habitat in northern New South Wales despite promises the state government would protect the species, with one seasoned campaigner calling the destruction a “profound tragedy”.In September last year, the Minns government ordered a halt to logging operations in certain high value koala habitat – known as “koala hubs” – in the proposed Great Koala national park.That move protected 5% of the proposed park but community campaigners say logging has continued in other important habitat within its boundaries, as well as in koala habitat outside the proposed park.Mark Graham, a community advocate, said: “These are extinction logging operations. This is a profound tragedy.”The concerns come ahead of a state koala summit to be held in Sydney next Friday. The environment minister, Penny Sharpe, called the summit to allow councils and experts to give advice about what needs to happen to prevent the species’ extinction.Graham said if the government was serious about preventing the extinction of the koala, the simplest action it could take would be to immediately stop logging and protect all koala hubs and nationally important koala areas in state forests – both within and outside the boundaries of the proposed great koala national park.He said there had been active logging throughout the park, including at Sheas Nob, north-west of the Dorrigo Plateau, Kangaroo river and Wild Cattle creek.The president of the North East Forest Alliance, Dailan Pugh, estimated there was more than 220,000 ha of important koala habitat in state forests in north-east NSW that remained to be protected. That figure includes koala hubs that were not protected by the Minns government last year, because they are outside the proposed new national park.Pugh and others on the north coast have campaigned to protect koala habitat in two state forests in particular – Braemar and Myrtle – north of the great koala national park. Both forests and their koala populations were hit hard by the 2019-20 bushfires.Last year the alliance unsuccessfully sought an injunction on logging operations in those forests. Pugh said about 30% of the approved logging area in Braemar and 14% in Myrtle had now been cleared.“I recorded koalas in there before the logging,” he said of Braemar forest.He said it was devastating for communities that logging in habitat had been able to continue across the mid-north and north coasts.“I think it’s pretty disgusting really,” he said.‘We want Penny Sharpe to do something bold and courageous’, says one environmental campaigner. Photograph: Mark Graham“They’re areas that have been identified as high value koala habitat in NSW and they’re continuing to log them despite recognising how important they were.”Pugh said advocates had raised their concerns with Sharpe for months but “she doesn’t care, she refuses to do anything”.“I find it very frustrating. I thought when this government was elected that they promised to do something about koalas,” he said.skip past newsletter promotionSign up to Afternoon UpdateOur Australian afternoon update breaks down the key stories of the day, telling you what’s happening and why it mattersPrivacy Notice: Newsletters may contain info about charities, online ads, and content funded by outside parties. For more information see our Privacy Policy. We use Google reCaptcha to protect our website and the Google Privacy Policy and Terms of Service apply.after newsletter promotionPeople attending next week’s summit will discuss agenda items including climate crisis adaptation, habitat restoration, habitat protection, and how to combat diseases that affect koalas.The vice-president of the North Coast Environment Council, Susie Russell, said she feared the summit would be an exercise in “make believe” unless the government confronted the issue of protecting koala habitat on public land.Russell has campaigned for improved forest protection for decades, most recently around Yarratt, Bulga and Kiwarrak state forests, south of the Great Koala national park.“Why are we spending huge amounts of money putting seedlings in the ground and putting fences around them and at the same time we’re wiping out mature trees that koalas are actually living in?” Russell said.“We want Penny Sharpe to do something bold and courageous.”Sharpe said the government would not accept a future without koalas in the wild in NSW.She said since the Minns government was elected last year, it had doubled funding for koalas and protected hubs in the Great Koala national park while work to create the park was under way. “These actions are important but we know this will not be the end of the action that needs to be undertaken,” Sharpe said.“The koala summit will allow participants to provide input to the NSW Koala Strategy. Nothing is off the table.”The NSW agriculture minister Tara Moriarty said timber harvesting would continue in areas of the proposed great koala national park that were not designated koala hubs “but only where operational plans have been approved under the tightest environmental protection rules in the country.“The NSW Government is working closely with industry to develop a blueprint for the future timber sector that accommodates the Great Kola National Park, the production of critical timber products for construction and housing, and the highest environmental standards,” she said.A spokesperson for the NSW Forestry Corporation said there had been no increase in the agency’s timber harvesting operations on the north coast. They said there were strict rules to protect preferred koala feed trees during logging operations.“All timber harvesting undertaken by the Forestry Corporation is in line with both our annual plan of operations and an independently verified level for sustainable harvesting and regrowth,” they said.“Operations in native forests are always selective, with large areas set aside for habitat, and every harvest area is regrown to ensure the same forests continue to provide habitat and produce renewable timber for future generations.”

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