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Extreme Weather Push People to the Edge of Poverty in Central America

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Thursday, November 10, 2022

Miguel rescued only two ears of corn from his corn plantation, still covered by chocolate water. The Honduran farmer was a victim of tropical storm Julia, which hit Central America a month ago, where weather phenomena are increasingly recurrent. Julia entered Nicaragua on October 9 as a category 1 hurricane, passed through El Salvador as a tropical storm and dissipated in Guatemala. The rain bands overflowed the mighty Ulúa and Chamelecón rivers, causing the greatest damage in the Sula Valley in northern Honduras, the area most vulnerable to weather phenomena. Death and Crops Washed Away According to government agencies, Julia left about fifty people dead in the four countries, as well as thousands of hectares of crops damaged. The seven hectares of Miguel Mejía, 58, Antonio Alemán, 53, and eight other Honduran farmers, are 30 kilometers from where the Ulúa overflowed, near El Progreso, some 200 km north of Tegucigalpa. That is where the floods reached.  A month later, the panorama in that area is desolate: the homes of thousands of very poor people covered with earth and other debris washed away by the currents, which also swept away basic grain crops, African palm, bananas, cassava and other products. “We lost the crop. I could only locate about two half-good cobs and the others are totally rotten,” complained the farmer. “We are going to have a food crisis,” deplored Miguel, who lives with his wife and two grown children. He estimated the losses at more than 400,000 lempiras, about US$16,000, for the ten farmers, who will not be able to plant in the second cycle of the year because the land is still flooded. The work of two annual cycles is “to have the maicito to eat the tortillas and help themselves somehow with what they sell of what they harvest,” he explained. After the losses, Miguel buys food with money he receives from fixing fences damaged by the currents. There “they are giving us a little salary (…) to be able to survive”. For Antonio, the water covered his house up to the roof. “We planted with purchased seed, we fertilized and we lost all that,” he complained. Now the farmer works in an African palm cooperative. He is also repairing fences, mowing and cutting fruit, where he is paid $10 a day. “That’s where we’ll be working, for the time being”. Another farmer in the area, Camilo Chávez, 64, said he manages “to eat with the help of some friends, and the municipality, which has invited us for a little bit of food”. Too much water In El Salvador, one of those affected was Victor Carranza, 44 years old. He lost his one-hectare crop in El Zamorano, about 100 km southeast of San Salvador.  “That’s where you’re left even more screwed, without any resources to be able to have your corn,” he said. He is hoping for a government grant to plant again. “There has been too much water (…) this year has been quite copious, there has never been water like this year,” deplored Alfredo Hernández, 51, also a Salvadoran farmer. In Nicaragua, the Ministry of Finance and Public Credit estimated the losses caused by Julia in production, environmental damage and infrastructure in health, education, telecommunications, energy, water and sanitation at US$ 367.8 million. Guatemala’s Minister of Agriculture, José Ángel López, counted among the effects of Julia “60,000 hectares affected at different levels, including corn, beans, cardamom, coffee, bananas, plantains and pastures”.  “All the corn crops were lost, because that’s all we work here (…) we only managed to get a little bit,” lamented farmer Elías Coc, 31, father of five children, resident of the village of Santa Marta Salinas, in the north. Climate Change “The big rainfalls have occurred every 20 years, but this time it had only been two years” since tropical storms Eta and Iota. “It had been 24 years since Mitch,” Miguel recalled.  After Hurricane Mitch, which hit in 1998, the worst climatic tragedy Central America has ever experienced, the Honduran authorities built earthen walls on the banks of the Ulua and Chamelecon rivers to protect the populations. In 2020, the floods caused by storms Eta and Iota broke fragments of these barriers and the rivers overflowed into the populations of the Sula Valley, the most booming productive area of Honduras, a country of 9.6 million inhabitants, with more than 70% living in poverty. “Climate change is deeply linked to development and human well-being. If left unchecked, its impacts could push 132 million people into poverty in the next 10 years,” warns a July 2022 World Bank report.  The post Extreme Weather Push People to the Edge of Poverty in Central America appeared first on The Tico Times | Costa Rica News | Travel | Real Estate.

Miguel rescued only two ears of corn from his corn plantation, still covered by chocolate water. The Honduran farmer was a victim of tropical storm Julia, which hit Central America a month ago, where weather phenomena are increasingly recurrent. Julia entered Nicaragua on October 9 as a category 1 hurricane, passed through El Salvador as […] The post Extreme Weather Push People to the Edge of Poverty in Central America appeared first on The Tico Times | Costa Rica News | Travel | Real Estate.

Climate Change Central America

Miguel rescued only two ears of corn from his corn plantation, still covered by chocolate water. The Honduran farmer was a victim of tropical storm Julia, which hit Central America a month ago, where weather phenomena are increasingly recurrent.

Julia entered Nicaragua on October 9 as a category 1 hurricane, passed through El Salvador as a tropical storm and dissipated in Guatemala.

The rain bands overflowed the mighty Ulúa and Chamelecón rivers, causing the greatest damage in the Sula Valley in northern Honduras, the area most vulnerable to weather phenomena.

Death and Crops Washed Away

According to government agencies, Julia left about fifty people dead in the four countries, as well as thousands of hectares of crops damaged.

The seven hectares of Miguel Mejía, 58, Antonio Alemán, 53, and eight other Honduran farmers, are 30 kilometers from where the Ulúa overflowed, near El Progreso, some 200 km north of Tegucigalpa. That is where the floods reached. 

A month later, the panorama in that area is desolate: the homes of thousands of very poor people covered with earth and other debris washed away by the currents, which also swept away basic grain crops, African palm, bananas, cassava and other products.

“We lost the crop. I could only locate about two half-good cobs and the others are totally rotten,” complained the farmer. “We are going to have a food crisis,” deplored Miguel, who lives with his wife and two grown children.

He estimated the losses at more than 400,000 lempiras, about US$16,000, for the ten farmers, who will not be able to plant in the second cycle of the year because the land is still flooded.

The work of two annual cycles is “to have the maicito to eat the tortillas and help themselves somehow with what they sell of what they harvest,” he explained.

After the losses, Miguel buys food with money he receives from fixing fences damaged by the currents. There “they are giving us a little salary (…) to be able to survive”.

For Antonio, the water covered his house up to the roof. “We planted with purchased seed, we fertilized and we lost all that,” he complained.

Now the farmer works in an African palm cooperative. He is also repairing fences, mowing and cutting fruit, where he is paid $10 a day. “That’s where we’ll be working, for the time being”.

Another farmer in the area, Camilo Chávez, 64, said he manages “to eat with the help of some friends, and the municipality, which has invited us for a little bit of food”.

Too much water

In El Salvador, one of those affected was Victor Carranza, 44 years old. He lost his one-hectare crop in El Zamorano, about 100 km southeast of San Salvador. 

“That’s where you’re left even more screwed, without any resources to be able to have your corn,” he said. He is hoping for a government grant to plant again.

“There has been too much water (…) this year has been quite copious, there has never been water like this year,” deplored Alfredo Hernández, 51, also a Salvadoran farmer.

In Nicaragua, the Ministry of Finance and Public Credit estimated the losses caused by Julia in production, environmental damage and infrastructure in health, education, telecommunications, energy, water and sanitation at US$ 367.8 million.

Guatemala’s Minister of Agriculture, José Ángel López, counted among the effects of Julia “60,000 hectares affected at different levels, including corn, beans, cardamom, coffee, bananas, plantains and pastures”. 

“All the corn crops were lost, because that’s all we work here (…) we only managed to get a little bit,” lamented farmer Elías Coc, 31, father of five children, resident of the village of Santa Marta Salinas, in the north.

Climate Change

“The big rainfalls have occurred every 20 years, but this time it had only been two years” since tropical storms Eta and Iota. “It had been 24 years since Mitch,” Miguel recalled. 

After Hurricane Mitch, which hit in 1998, the worst climatic tragedy Central America has ever experienced, the Honduran authorities built earthen walls on the banks of the Ulua and Chamelecon rivers to protect the populations.

In 2020, the floods caused by storms Eta and Iota broke fragments of these barriers and the rivers overflowed into the populations of the Sula Valley, the most booming productive area of Honduras, a country of 9.6 million inhabitants, with more than 70% living in poverty.

“Climate change is deeply linked to development and human well-being. If left unchecked, its impacts could push 132 million people into poverty in the next 10 years,” warns a July 2022 World Bank report. 

The post Extreme Weather Push People to the Edge of Poverty in Central America appeared first on The Tico Times | Costa Rica News | Travel | Real Estate.

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California zombie lake turned farmland to water. A year later, is it gone for good?

Tulare Lake was resurrected to more than 100,000 acres, bringing fear and wonder. I went to see it – and couldn’t find it‘Stay out of the water’: what lurks below California’s zombie lake?For a time last year, it was difficult to drive through a large swath of central California without running into the new shoreline of a long dormant lake.Resurrected for the first time in decades by an epic deluge of winter rain and snow, by spring the lake covered more than 100,000 acres, stretching over cotton, tomato and pistachio fields and miles of roads. Continue reading...

For a time last year, it was difficult to drive through a large swath of central California without running into the new shoreline of a long dormant lake.Resurrected for the first time in decades by an epic deluge of winter rain and snow, by spring the lake covered more than 100,000 acres, stretching over cotton, tomato and pistachio fields and miles of roads.Tulare Lake, or Pa’ashi as it is known to the Tachi Yokut Tribe, was back.The scene was astounding. Tulare Lake was once the largest freshwater body west of the Mississippi before it was drained for agriculture in the 19th century. While it has re-emerged during other periods of wet weather, the lake hadn’t been seen anywhere near this scale in 40 years.Its resurrection sparked a flurry of visitors and news coverage. Scientists and officials predicted the lake could remain for years to come, sparking consternation among the local farmers whose land was now underwater, and excitement from others who saw the lake as a fertile nature sanctuary and sacred site.Yet today, such fears and hopes have not borne out entirely as expected. Along a narrow and dusty back road in Kings county, California’s agricultural heartland, there are sprouts of grass and thick mud, but no signs of the body of water. Despite the predictions, the lake is nearly gone.Three satellite images of a lakeTulare Lake has shrunk to just 2,625 acres, according to the Kings county office of emergency services. Officials expect its “imminent disappearance”, said Abraham Valencia, with the office of emergency services, “barring unforeseen snowmelt runoff causing upstream flooding”. The lake covered private land, and now some farming is resuming, Nate Ferrier with the county sheriff’s office told a local news outlet.“We’ve got tractors and trucks moving around and fields are getting prepared to start growing crops again,” Ferrier said.Most Californians had only known of Tulare Lake from historical accounts. Before its vast expanse was replaced by endless rows of nut trees, Pima cotton and safflowers, the lake was home to turtles and beavers and was surrounded by tule reeds.It has reappeared a handful of times in the past century, including in 1998, and most dramatically last winter, when back-to-back atmospheric river storms walloped the state from December to March. Water overtook what is typically a dry landscape, covering acres and acres of crops – and for a time threatened towns in the area and forced the evacuation of thousands of cows, as well as roads and power lines.While the inundation was a hardship to the agriculture industry and area workers, it captivated many people. Visitors flocked to new viewing points and road closure signs with drones, although officials warned them to stay out of the water, which was laden with irrigation hoses, manure and agricultural chemicals.The scene that greeted them was blue as far as the eye could see, with wildlife returning to the area – fish swimming along submerged fence poles and birds bobbing around the shoreline.Dead and dying pistachio trees on a Hanson Farms ranch in Corcoran, California, on 18 July 2023. Photograph: Robert Gauthier/Los Angeles Times/Getty Images“You’re driving along and the road just ends – it just ducks under the water,” said Vivian Underhill, a feminist scholar of environmental justice who has studied the lake. “You see these nut trees just filled with water, ducks swimming under the shade of almond trees. “You could see blackbirds, hawks, geese. You could hear fish splashing out of the water.”By last summer, the lake covered an area roughly the side of Lake Tahoe and was between 5 to 7ft deep. Its re-emergence was particularly meaningful to the Tachi, who revere the lake their ancestors relied on before settlers forced the tribe out of the area and drained it to make way for crops. In their creation stories, the Tachi were made from the sediment at the bottom of the lake, Underhill said.Tribal members grew up hearing stories about how the lake that once supported the Tachi was taken from them, the Los Angeles Times reported. They had hoped to see the lake remain in place rather than be drained to resume agriculture as it had in the past.“I am very happy the lake is back,” Leo Sisco, the chairman of the Santa Rosa Rancheria Tachi Yokut Tribe, told the newspaper last year. “It makes me swell with pride to know that, in this lifetime, I get to experience it. My daughters, my grandson get to experience the lake, and the stories that we heard when we were kids, for us it comes to fruition.”These days the crowds of eager tourists have waned, and the shoreline is getting harder to find. On a recent drive through the central valley, I decided to try my best to see what was left of it.On a sunny afternoon in late February, almost a year after its arrival, the road closure signs still in place around the county served as the most visible reminder of the lake. They blocked long stretches of muddy roads leading to agricultural facilities.The remnants of Tulare Lake are located entirely on private land, far from where the public can see it. It has reduced rapidly in size as local agencies moved water from the lake to nearby farmlands. Evaporation also played a “key role”.A vehicle located on the Racine St Foster Farms chicken facility remains underwater months after the resurgence of Tulare Lake, on 18 July 2023. Photograph: Robert Gauthier/Los Angeles Times/Getty ImagesPacific Gas and Electric, the area’s power utility, undertook a massive effort to retrieve its equipment that was submerged by the lake last year – in some cases using helicopters and dive teams. It has slowly begun restoring services to its customers in the area, which are primarily agricultural, said Denny Boyles, a company spokesperson.Its re-emergence is estimated to have caused losses of hundreds of millions of dollars to the area’s agricultural industry. Local officials have expressed gratitude that some farmers can resume work.“Farming is the lifeblood for Kings County. One in four jobs in this county are agricultural related, and so it’s one of our biggest commodities,” Ferrier said.But this won’t be the last we hear of Tulare Lake. With the climate crisis intensifying California’s wet and dry extremes, the lake will likely continue to return in wet years, Jay Lund, a professor of civil and environmental engineering at University of California, Davis, wrote last year.And allowing the lake to remain could offer benefits by recharging diminishing groundwater and boosting wildlife in the area, Underhill said. The aquifer in the lake basin, land that is predominantly owned by the agricultural giant JG Boswell Company, has been significantly depleted, which has caused the land in the area to sink.“Any attempts to make this anything other than a lake bed are going to face the powers of floodwater eventually,” Underhill said. “It behooves us to let it remain as is because that’s clearly where the water wants to go, and it’s going to continue to go there.”The lake is the natural state of this area, she added.“It was such a rich and kind of teeming ecosystem. It says something about how the birds, the fish, they’re always waiting for the lake to return. And when it returns they are ready to go and be a part of it.”

The Klamath River's dams are being removed. Inside the effort to restore a scarred watershed

Reservoirs have been drained as the nation's largest dam removal effort advances on the Klamath River, and an effort to restore the watershed is taking root.

HORNBROOK, Calif. —  Near the California-Oregon border, reservoirs that once submerged valleys have been drained, revealing a stark landscape that had been underwater for generations.A thick layer of muddy sediment covers the sloping ground, where workers have been scattering seeds and leaving meandering trails of footprints. In the cracked mud, seeds are sprouting and tiny green shoots are appearing.With water passing freely through tunnels in three dams, the Klamath River has returned to its ancient channel and is flowing unhindered for the first time in more than a century through miles of waterlogged lands. The Klamath River has begun to flow though a tunnel that’s been blasted into the bottom of the dam known as Copco No. 1. Work to fully remove the dam is expected to continue well into August. Using explosives and machinery, crews began blasting and tearing into the concrete of one of the three dams earlier this month. While the massive dismantling project advances, a parallel effort to restore the river to a natural state is just beginning. “It’s a beautiful thing, and a beautiful feeling, that that process of healing has begun,” said Leaf Hillman, a member of the Karuk Tribe who spent more than two decades campaigning for the removal of dams, and who said he’s overjoyed to see the process finally underway.Standing on a bluff overlooking Iron Gate Dam, Hillman watched the turbid, chocolate-colored water flowing from a tunnel and passing downriver. He said the muddy, sediment-laden water streaming from the drained reservoirs might look ugly to some people, but it’s a sign of improving health that the dead algae and muck that had accumulated in the reservoirs is now being washed out.“It feels like a cleansing that is long overdue. This river has been literally dying for years, having the life strangled out of it by these dams,” Hillman said. “I love seeing that sediment being pushed down, because that’s a river acting like a river.”The emptying of the reservoirs, which began in January, is estimated to have released as much as 2.3 million tons of sediment into the river, abruptly worsening its water quality and killing nonnative perch, bluegill and bass that had been introduced in the reservoirs for fishing.Downstream from the dams, the river’s banks are littered with dead fish. But tribal leaders, biologists and environmentalists say that this was part of the plan, and that the river will soon be hospitable for salmon to once again swim upstream to spawn.For Hillman and other Indigenous activists, the struggle to restore the Klamath involved years of protests — including outside a Scottish Power shareholders meeting in Edinburgh when the U.K. company owned PacifiCorp — until agreements were finally negotiated to remove the hydroelectric dams. The structures, which were built without tribal consent between 1912 and the 1960s, blocked salmon from reaching vital habitat and degraded the river’s water quality, contributing to toxic algae blooms in the reservoirs and disease outbreaks that killed fish. Aggressive and impactful reporting on climate change, the environment, health and science. Hillman is a ceremonial leader and former Karuk vice chairperson. He started his tribe’s fisheries department in 1990, and has seen populations of salmon decline over the years, while algae blooms have fouled the river at times when tribal members traditionally enter the water during ceremonies. “I love seeing that sediment being pushed down, because that’s a river acting like a river,” Karuk Tribe activist Leaf Hillman said as demolition work on the Iron Gate Dam drained the reservoir behind him. Hillman said that the dams had exacted a terrible cost on Native people’s livelihoods and cultures, and that their removal promises to revive the ecosystem and salmon populations, and help tribes revitalize their fishing traditions and their connection to the river.Seeing the reservoirs empty and the river returning is like having “a weight off my chest,” Hillman said, “like I feel like I can breathe.”The largest dam removal project in history, it’s being overseen by the nonprofit Klamath River Renewal Corp., with a $500-million budget including funds from California and from surcharges paid by PacifiCorp customers. The utility, based in Portland, Ore., agreed to remove the aging dams — which were used for power generation, not water storage — after determining it would be less expensive than trying to bring them up to current environmental standards.Workers have been drilling holes in the top of the Copco No. 1 Dam, placing dynamite and setting off blasts, then using machinery to chip away fractured concrete. The dam, which has been in place since 1918, is scheduled to be fully removed by the end of August. The smaller Copco No. 2 Dam was torn down last year as the project began. Two earthen dams, the Iron Gate and the John C. Boyle, remain to be dismantled starting in May.If the project goes as planned, the three dams will be gone sometime this fall, reestablishing a free-flowing stretch of river and enabling Chinook and coho salmon to swim upstream and spawn along about 400 miles of the Klamath and its tributaries.Meanwhile, teams of scientists and workers are focusing on restoring the landscape and natural vegetation on about 2,200 acres of denuded reservoir-bottom lands.Crews from the Yurok Tribe have been walking in the mud and scattering the seeds of native plants, including grasses, shrubs and trees. This effort started several years ago, with workers collecting nearly 1 billion seeds along the Klamath and sending them to farms to be planted and harvested.The effort has yielded an estimated 17 billion seeds to date. In some areas, a helicopter has been used to drop seeds along the river. Sediment from the reservoirs has temporarily muddied the Klamath’s water, killing many nonnative fish. But the process clears the way for the river’s long-term health — and the return of salmon. The goals of the seed-planting effort include stabilizing the wet sediment, preventing nonnative weeds from taking hold, and accelerating the regrowth of grasslands, chaparral and forests.“These reservoirs, they have a lot of invasive species surrounding the landscape,” said Joshua Chenoweth, the Yurok Tribe’s senior riparian ecologist. “And so by introducing a nice, diverse mix of native seed, that’s going to be our strongest protection against it becoming a big weed field.”That means fewer weeds like medusahead and yellow starthistle, and more native plants like bluebunch wheatgrass and Oregon sunshine. That’s important for the health of the ecosystem. The approach draws on lessons from the removal of dams on the Elwha River in Washington state, where scattering native seeds was found to effectively reduce the amount of invasive weeds, Chenoweth said.Within a decade, he and others hope, a stand of young trees will form a lush, green riparian forest along the Klamath.Alauna Grant, a member of the Karuk Tribe who is helping to plant seeds and saplings, said she is pleased to be participating in undoing the environmental damage caused by the dams, and expects the next generation, including her nieces and nephews, will appreciate a restored river.“There’s going to be so many swimming spots for them to go hang out at and have fun once the river gets healthy,” Grant said. “I’m excited for it to succeed.”While the draining of reservoirs let loose heavy loads of sediment, there are also areas where piles of sand, gravel and clay lie up to 15 feet deep beside tributary streams. Crews have been working with excavators, digging into the piles and sending sediment tumbling into streams.“Dam removal is kind of messy business,” said Dave Coffman, manager of the restoration program for the contractor Resource Environmental Solutions, or RES. He likened the process to “heart surgery, where we got the arteries cleared out, and things are moving again.” “Dam removal is kind of messy business,” said restoration program manager Dave Coffman, seen looking for signs of life in what was the bottom of Copco Lake until recently. Based on studies, the project’s planners knew that the sediment would temporarily have a severe effect on water quality, causing a drop in the amount of oxygen in the water, Coffman said. To minimize potential harm to native fish, they chose to begin draining the reservoirs in the winter, after adult salmon had spawned and died. It’s also a time when newly hatched juvenile salmon remain in tributary streams to feed and grow.Before the drawdown began, a crew of Karuk fisheries specialists waded into the river to net and trap as many young coho salmon as they could find, and moved them to holding ponds, where they are being kept until the water quality improves.Other efforts haven’t worked out as planned. When workers from the California Department of Fish and Wildlife took 830,000 juvenile Chinook salmon from the newly built Fall Creek Fish Hatchery and released them into a tributary on Feb. 26, they found that the fish were dying as they passed through a tunnel beneath Iron Gate Dam. The dead salmon showed signs of gas bubble disease, which can occur when water is supersaturated with dissolved gases.After that setback, state wildlife officials said they would instead release young salmon downstream of the dam until it’s removed. The hatchery still has millions of fish scheduled to be released later this year, and teams from the Karuk Tribe’s fisheries department have also been finding healthy wild salmon in the river. The draining of Copco Lake has revealed long-submerged lands along the Klamath River. The river’s water quality has been improving, but the restoration work will continue until vegetation is established and the water clarity has improved to normal conditions, Coffman said.“This landscape will be restored,” he said. “But when it comes to revegetating a landscape of this scale, that’s a process that just takes time.”Coffman stood by a dry boat ramp in the community of Copco Lake, where homes that used to have lakefront views and docks now face an expanse of mudflats. In the distance, the bare skeletons of trees that were drowned a century ago protruded from the lake bed.“This still looks like a barren mudflat from this perspective,” Coffman said. Then, he squatted and pointed to sprouting seeds: “Those little green shoots are the first step in that process, that road to recovery.” Plant life is already beginning to return to land that had long been covered by Copco Lake. Tribes are helping plant billions of native plant seeds on the reexposed land, which should keep invasive weeds largely at bay. By planting several different types of vegetation in zones extending from the river to the uplands, he said, the crews are putting the watershed on a “positive ecological trajectory” to let nature take its course.“We get it pointed in the right direction, and the environment does the rest,” Coffman said.Driving on a road beside the drained reservoir, Coffman stopped at a small waterfall cascading down a hillside in a thick stand of trees. He said that springs like this send water flowing onto flats by the river, creating streams that offer an opportunity to restore a wetland that will attract birds and other wildlife.“And where that little channel meets the Klamath River is going to be a nice, cool spot for fish to come,” he said. “Where there is water, there is life. And that’s what we’re going to see.”River restoration advocates are optimistic. They say undamming the Klamath will demonstrate the potential for restoring free-flowing rivers elsewhere in California, and point to initial plans to remove two dams on the Eel River as another promising opportunity.Ann Willis, California regional director for the environmentalist group American Rivers, said that when she’s rafted on the Klamath previously, the water downstream of the dams has been warm, green and smelly. At times, the algae blooms made it unsafe to get wet.Willis said she hopes removing dams is “going to not just restore an ecosystem, but really restore access” for people who live along the Klamath to enjoy their river once again. She added that there are many unknowns about how the recovery of the river ecosystem will progress amid the extremes driven by climate change. “I am still confident that whatever comes out of this is going to be something that benefits the entire community,” Willis said. “Rivers are living systems, and they create these beautiful worlds.” Jenny Creek flows into the Klamath River, temporarily muddy from accumulated reservoir sediment. In recent decades, major declines in salmon populations have negatively affected people’s health and wellbeing in communities along the river, including by hindering their fishing traditions, said Regina Chichizola, executive director of the organization Save California Salmon. Now, she said, the undamming of the river is bringing a new outlook for young Native people.“For the first time, I’m hearing hope — young people feeling like there might be a future with salmon in it for them again,” she said.When the removal of dams is complete, the Klamath River Renewal Corp. will turn over the land to California and Oregon. The Shasta Indian Nation, whose ancestral homeland lies along the river, has requested that some of these lands be returned to their people.Hillman, of the Karuk Tribe, said that once the dams are gone, people will be able to return with nets to traditional fishing places that were sealed off long ago.He walked to a rocky point overlooking the river. Beside him was the brick chimney of a house that burned down decades ago, and below was the concrete dam that had formed Copco Lake. Water was rushing through a tunnel at the base of the dam.“I’ll be glad to see it gone,” Hillman said. “These dams being here — it was a huge mistake that continues to have impacts.”Their construction, he said, compounded the struggles of the Klamath’s Native peoples, who also suffered systemic violence during the taking of their lands. On top of these injustices, he said, the surrounding forests are unhealthy and prone to intense fires because they have been deprived of traditional burning during more than a century of fire suppression.“We have a lot more work to do to fix this place,” Hillman said.That larger effort to regain the watershed’s natural balance, he said, is just beginning as the dams come down.“What it represents to me,” he said, “is an opportunity to reclaim what’s been lost.” The Klamath River runs free through the former Iron Gate Reservoir, cutting through layers of sediment to find its course. (Brian van der Brug / Los Angeles Times)

Losing hippos could throw entire ecosystems out of balance. Here's how we can still save them

The gentle giants of the waterways are threatened by industry and development, but many are working to protect them

The hippopotamus, often simply referred to as a hippo, is a creature that fascinates and delights those who are fortunate enough to witness it in its natural habitat. These semi-aquatic mammals, known for their massive bodies, wide-open mouths and almost serene existence in the waters of sub-Saharan Africa, are not just wonders of nature's design but also vital components of their ecosystems.  The hippopotamus is native to sub-Saharan Africa, dwelling in rivers, lakes, and mangrove swamps. Despite their broad distribution, hippos face numerous threats that have led to declining numbers. Habitat loss due to agriculture, human settlement and industry is a significant factor. Additionally, hippos are poached for their meat and ivory (found in their teeth), further impacting their populations. Currently, the International Union for Conservation of Nature (IUCN) lists the hippo as vVulnerable, with estimates suggesting there are between 115,000 and 130,000 individuals left in the wild. This classification underscores the pressing need for effective conservation measures to prevent their slide toward endangerment. Acknowledging the critical role hippos play in their ecosystems and the various challenges threatening their existence, a collaborative effort among conservationists, governmental bodies and non-governmental organizations (NGOs) has led to the launch of numerous initiatives aimed at safeguarding these splendid animals. Among these efforts is the notable "Save the Hippos" campaign, which also marked the inception of World Hippo Day in 2016. This campaign, along with others, highlights the concerted actions taken to ensure the protection and preservation of hippos across their natural habitats. The survival of the hippopotamus is intricately linked to the health of Africa's freshwater ecosystems and the communities that depend on them. Anti-poaching measures, such as increased patrolling of protected areas and the implementation of stricter laws against poaching and ivory trade, are critical components of these efforts. Additionally, habitat restoration projects seek to reclaim and protect natural habitats for hippos and other wildlife. Community-based conservation is another vital strategy, involving local communities in conservation efforts and providing them with sustainable alternatives to hunting and habitat encroachment. International cooperation is also essential, as the conservation of hippos requires cross-border efforts due to their habitat spanning multiple countries. Conservationists are also employing innovative technologies to monitor hippo populations and their habitats. Satellite imagery, drone surveillance and GPS tracking are tools that help gather data on hippo numbers, movements and health, which is crucial for making informed conservation decisions. Want more health and science stories in your inbox? Subscribe to Salon's weekly newsletter Lab Notes. Hippos are the third-largest living land mammals after elephants and white rhinos. An adult male can weigh up to 3,200 kilograms (about 7,000 pounds), with females slightly smaller. Despite their bulk, hippos are surprisingly graceful in the water, where they spend most of their time. Their specific gravity allows them to sink and walk or run along the bottom of rivers and lakes. Hippos are well adapted to their aquatic lifestyle, with eyes, ears and nostrils located high on their heads, enabling them to breathe and look around while mostly submerged. Their large mouths, which can open up to 180 degrees, reveal large canines and incisors used primarily for defense. A unique feature of hippos is their thick, hairless skin, which secretes a natural sunscreen, often referred to as "blood sweat," to protect them from the sun's harsh rays. This oily red secretion is not only a sunblock but also has antiseptic properties, helping to keep wounds clean and free from infection. This adaptation is crucial for their survival in the hot, sunny environments they inhabit. Hippos are highly social animals, living in groups known as pods, bloats or schools, which can consist of anywhere from 10 to 30 individuals, though larger groups of up to 100 hippos are not uncommon. These groups are typically made up of females with their young and a few non-breeding males, with a dominant male leading the group. The dominant male has exclusive breeding rights within the group, and his authority is established and maintained through displays of strength and aggression. Additionally, hippos spend a significant amount of time in the water, where their social interactions occur. They communicate through grunts, bellows and wheezes, a form of vocalization that plays a crucial role in the dynamics of the group. Despite their peaceful appearance, hippos can be quite aggressive, especially if they feel threatened. This aggression is most commonly observed between males fighting over territory or breeding rights. The Way Forward The survival of the hippopotamus is intricately linked to the health of Africa's freshwater ecosystems and the communities that depend on them. As such, the conservation of hippos is not just about saving an iconic species; it's about preserving the balance of ecosystems and the well-being of human populations as well. The challenges are significant, but with continued effort, awareness and international support, the future for hippos can be bright. It's a testament to the resilience of nature and the power of collective action aimed at protecting our planet's remarkable biodiversity. The hippopotamus, with its unique physical characteristics, significant ecological role, and the challenges it faces, is a symbol of the broader issues of wildlife conservation and environmental stewardship. By understanding more about these gentle giants, we can appreciate their place in the natural world and the importance of efforts to ensure their survival. Let's hope that future generations will have the opportunity to marvel at these incredible animals, not just in pictures or documentaries, but thriving in their natural habitats, a lasting legacy of our commitment to conservation. Read more about animal conservation

A Massachusetts town is confronting industrial giants over toxins in its waters

Lee, Massachusetts, has taken legal action against GE and Monsanto for river pollution due to the manufacture of PCBs upriver from the town. Adam Frenier and Nancy Eve Cohen report for New England Public Media. In short: The lawsuit accuses GE and Monsanto of intentionally polluting the Housatonic River with PCBs, known to be harmful. Documents from 1972 reveal GE's acknowledgment of PCB dangers, yet they continued their use. Monsanto, now a Bayer subsidiary, denies liability for the river's contamination, attributing it to the town's decisions. Key quote: "The abuses of multibillion-dollar corporations over decades, the lack of response of our elected representatives, and the ongoing deception in order to keep all of us in the dark must end here.” — Bob Jones, Select Board chair Why this matters: Polychlorinated biphenyls are a group of man-made chemicals that were widely used in manufacturing electrical equipment, heat exchangers, and hydraulic systems until their ban in the United States in 1979 due to their environmental and health risks. Despite the ban, PCBs persist in the environment due to their resistance to breaking down, leading to ongoing contamination concerns, particularly in water sources.

Lee, Massachusetts, has taken legal action against GE and Monsanto for river pollution due to the manufacture of PCBs upriver from the town. Adam Frenier and Nancy Eve Cohen report for New England Public Media. In short: The lawsuit accuses GE and Monsanto of intentionally polluting the Housatonic River with PCBs, known to be harmful. Documents from 1972 reveal GE's acknowledgment of PCB dangers, yet they continued their use. Monsanto, now a Bayer subsidiary, denies liability for the river's contamination, attributing it to the town's decisions. Key quote: "The abuses of multibillion-dollar corporations over decades, the lack of response of our elected representatives, and the ongoing deception in order to keep all of us in the dark must end here.” — Bob Jones, Select Board chair Why this matters: Polychlorinated biphenyls are a group of man-made chemicals that were widely used in manufacturing electrical equipment, heat exchangers, and hydraulic systems until their ban in the United States in 1979 due to their environmental and health risks. Despite the ban, PCBs persist in the environment due to their resistance to breaking down, leading to ongoing contamination concerns, particularly in water sources.

Understanding the impacts of mining on local environments and communities

Extractive industries threaten water, glaciers, and livelihoods, but new research offers hope.

Hydrosocial displacement refers to the idea that resolving water conflict in one area can shift the conflict to a different area. The concept was coined by Scott Odell, a visiting researcher in MIT’s Environmental Solutions Initiative (ESI). As part of ESI’s Program on Mining and the Circular Economy, Odell researches the impacts of extractive industries on local environments and communities, especially in Latin America. He discovered that hydrosocial displacements are often in regions where the mining industry is vying for use of precious water sources that are already stressed due to climate change. Odell is working with John Fernández, ESI director and professor in the Department of Architecture, on a project that is examining the converging impacts of climate change, mining, and agriculture in Chile. The work is funded by a seed grant from MIT’s Abdul Latif Jameel Water and Food Systems Lab (J-WAFS). Specifically, the project seeks to answer how the expansion of seawater desalination by the mining industry is affecting local populations, and how climate change and mining affect Andean glaciers and the agricultural communities dependent upon them. By working with communities in mining areas, Odell and Fernández are gaining a sense of the burden that mining minerals needed for the clean energy transition is placing on local populations, and the types of conflicts that arise when water sources become polluted or scarce. This work is of particular importance considering over 100 countries pledged a commitment to the clean energy transition at the recent United Nations climate change conference, known as COP28. Water, humanity’s lifeblood At the March 2023 United Nations (U.N.) Water Conference in New York, U.N. Secretary-General António Guterres warned “water is in deep trouble. We are draining humanity’s lifeblood through vampiric overconsumption and unsustainable use and evaporating it through global heating.” A quarter of the world’s population already faces “extremely high water stress,” according to the World Resources Institute. In an effort to raise awareness of major water-related issues and inspire action for innovative solutions, the U.N. created World Water Day, observed every year on March 22. This year’s theme is “Water for Peace,” underscoring the fact that even though water is a basic human right and intrinsic to every aspect of life, it is increasingly fought over as supplies dwindle due to problems including drought, overuse, or mismanagement.   The “Water for Peace” theme is exemplified in Fernández and Odell’s J-WAFS project, where findings are intended to inform policies to reduce social and environmental harms inflicted on mining communities and their limited water sources. “Despite broad academic engagement with mining and climate change separately, there has been a lack of analysis of the societal implications of the interactions between mining and climate change,” says Odell. “This project is helping to fill the knowledge gap. Results will be summarized in Spanish and English and distributed to interested and relevant parties in Chile, ensuring that the results can be of benefit to those most impacted by these challenges,” he adds. The effects of mining for the clean energy transition Global climate change is understood to be the most pressing environmental issue facing humanity today. Mitigating climate change requires reducing carbon emissions by transitioning away from conventional energy derived from burning fossil fuels, to more sustainable energy sources like solar and wind power. Because copper is an excellent conductor of electricity, it will be a crucial element in the clean energy transition, in which more solar panels, wind turbines, and electric vehicles will be manufactured. “We are going to see a major increase in demand for copper due to the clean energy transition,” says Odell. In 2021, Chile produced 26 percent of the world's copper, more than twice as much as any other country, Odell explains. Much of Chile’s mining is concentrated in and around the Atacama Desert — the world’s driest desert. Unfortunately, mining requires large amounts of water for a variety of processes, including controlling dust at the extraction site, cooling machinery, and processing and transporting ore. Chile is also one of the world’s largest exporters of agricultural products. Farmland is typically situated in the valleys downstream of several mines in the high Andes region, meaning mines get first access to water. This can lead to water conflict between mining operations and agricultural communities. Compounding the problem of mining for greener energy materials to combat climate change, are the very effects of climate change. According to the Chilean government, the country has suffered 13 years of the worst drought in history. While this is detrimental to the mining industry, it is also concerning for those working in agriculture, including the Indigenous Atacameño communities that live closest to the Escondida mine, the largest copper mine in the world. “There was never a lot of water to go around, even before the mine,” Odell says. The addition of Escondida stresses an already strained water system, leaving Atacameño farmers and individuals vulnerable to severe water insecurity. What’s more, waste from mining, known as tailings, includes minerals and chemicals that can contaminate water in nearby communities if not properly handled and stored. Odell says the secure storage of tailings is a high priority in earthquake-prone Chile. “If an earthquake were to hit and damage a tailings dam, it could mean toxic materials flowing downstream and destroying farms and communities,” he says. Chile’s treasured glaciers are another piece of the mining, climate change, and agricultural puzzle. Caroline White-Nockleby, a PhD candidate in MIT’s Program in Science, Technology, and Society, is working with Odell and Fernández on the J-WAFS project and leading the research specifically on glaciers. “These may not be the picturesque bright blue glaciers that you might think of, but they are, nonetheless, an important source of water downstream,” says White-Nockleby. She goes on to explain that there are a few different ways that mines can impact glaciers. In some cases, mining companies have proposed to move or even destroy glaciers to get at the ore beneath. Other impacts include dust from mining that falls on glaciers. White-Nockleby says, “this makes the glaciers a darker color, so, instead of reflecting the sun's rays away, [the glacier] may absorb the heat and melt faster.” This shows that even when not directly intervening with glaciers, mining activities can cause glacial decline, adding to the threat glaciers already face due to climate change. She also notes that “glaciers are an important water storage facility,” describing how, on an annual cycle, glaciers freeze and melt, allowing runoff that downstream agricultural communities can utilize. If glaciers suddenly melt too quickly, flooding of downstream communities can occur. Desalination offers a possible, but imperfect, solution Chile’s extensive coastline makes it uniquely positioned to utilize desalination — the removal of salts from seawater — to address water insecurity. Odell says that “over the last decade or so, there's been billions of dollars of investments in desalination in Chile.” As part of his dissertation work at Clark University, Odell found broad optimism in Chile for solving water issues in the mining industry through desalination. Not only was the mining industry committed to building desalination plants, there was also political support, and support from some community members in highland communities near the mines. Yet, despite the optimism and investment, desalinated water was not replacing the use of continental water. He concluded that “desalination can’t solve water conflict if it doesn't reduce demand for continental water supplies.” However, after publishing those results, Odell learned that new estimates at the national level showed that desalination operations had begun to replace the use of continental water after 2018. In two case studies that he currently focuses on — the Escondida and Los Pelambres copper mines — the mining companies have expanded their desalination objectives in order to reduce extraction from key continental sources. This seems to be due to a variety of factors. For one thing, in 2022, Chile’s water code was reformed to prioritize human water consumption and environmental protection of water during scarcity and in the allocation of future rights. It also shortened the granting of water rights from “in perpetuity” to 30 years. Under this new code, it is possible that the mining industry may have expanded its desalination efforts because it viewed continental water resources as less secure, Odell surmises. As part of the J-WAFS project, Odell has found that recent reactions have been mixed when it comes to the rapid increase in the use of desalination. He spent over two months doing fieldwork in Chile by conducting interviews with members of government, industry, and civil society at the Escondida, Los Pelambres, and Andina mining sites, as well as in Chile’s capital city, Santiago. He has spoken to local and national government officials, leaders of fishing unions, representatives of mining and desalination companies, and farmers. He observed that in the communities where the new desalination plants are being built, there have been concerns from community members as to whether they will get access to the desalinated water, or if it will belong solely to the mines. Interviews at the Escondida and Los Pelambres sites, in which desalination operations are already in place or under construction, indicate acceptance of the presence of desalination plants combined with apprehension about unknown long-term environmental impacts. At a third mining site, Andina, there have been active protests against a desalination project that would supply water to a neighboring mine, Los Bronces. In that community, there has been a blockade of the desalination operation by the fishing federation. “They were blockading that operation for three months because of concerns over what the desalination plant would do to their fishing grounds,” Odell says. And this is where the idea of hydrosocial displacement comes into the picture, he explains. Even though desalination operations are easing tensions with highland agricultural communities, new issues are arising for the communities on the coast. “We can't just look to desalination to solve our problems if it's going to create problems somewhere else” Odell advises. Within the process of hydrosocial displacement, interacting geographical, technical, economic, and political factors constrain the range of responses to address the water conflict. For example, communities that have more political and financial power tend to be better equipped to solve water conflict than less powerful communities. In addition, hydrosocial concerns usually follow the flow of water downstream, from the highlands to coastal regions. Odell says that this raises the need to look at water from a broader perspective. “We tend to address water concerns one by one and that can, in practice, end up being kind of like whack-a-mole,” says Odell. “When we think of the broader hydrological system, water is very much linked, and we need to look across the watershed. We can't just be looking at the specific community affected now, but who else is affected downstream, and will be affected in the long term. If we do solve a water issue by moving it somewhere else, like moving a tailings dam somewhere else, or building a desalination plant, resources are needed in the receiving community to respond to that,” suggests Odell. The company building the desalination plant and the fishing federation ultimately reached an agreement and the desalination operation will be moving forward. But Odell notes, “the protest highlights concern about the impacts of the operation on local livelihoods and environments within the much larger context of industrial pollution in the area.” The power of communities The protest by the fishing federation is one example of communities coming together to have their voices heard. Recent proposals by mining companies that would affect glaciers and other water sources used by agriculture communities have led to other protests that resulted in new agreements to protect local water supplies and the withdrawal of some of the mining proposals. Odell observes that communities have also gone to the courts to raise their concerns. The Atacameño communities, for example, have drawn attention to over-extraction of water resources by the Escondida mine. “Community members are also pursuing education in these topics so that there's not such a power imbalance between mining companies and local communities,” Odell remarks. This demonstrates the power local communities can have to protect continental water resources. The political and social landscape of Chile may also be changing in favor of local communities. Beginning with what is now referred to as the Estallido Social (social outburst) over inequality in 2019, Chile has undergone social upheaval that resulted in voters calling for a new constitution. Gabriel Boric, a progressive candidate, whose top priorities include social and environmental issues, was elected president during this period. These trends have brought major attention to issues of economic inequality, environmental harms of mining, and environmental justice, which is putting pressure on the mining industry to make a case for its operations in the country, and to justify the environmental costs of mining. What happens after the mine dries up? From his fieldwork interviews, Odell has learned that the development of mines within communities can offer benefits. Mining companies typically invest directly in communities through employment, road construction, and sometimes even by building or investing in schools, stadiums, or health clinics. Indirectly, mines can have spillover effects in the economy since miners might support local restaurants, hotels, or stores. But what happens when the mine closes? As one community member Odell interviewed stated: “When the mine is gone, what are we going to have left besides a big hole in the ground?” Odell suggests that a multi-pronged approach should be taken to address the future state of water and mining. First, he says we need to have broader conversations about the nature of our consumption and production at domestic and global scales. “Mining is driven indirectly by our consumption of energy and directly by our consumption of everything from our buildings to devices to cars,” Odell states. “We should be looking for ways to moderate our consumption and consume smarter through both policy and practice so that we don’t solve climate change while creating new environmental harms through mining.” One of the main ways we can do this is by advancing the circular economy by recycling metals already in the system, or even in landfills, to help build our new clean energy infrastructure. Even so, the clean energy transition will still require mining, but according to Odell, that mining can be done better. “Mining companies and government need to do a better job of consulting with communities. We need solid plans and financing for mine closures in place from the beginning of mining operations, so that when the mine dries up, there's the money needed to secure tailings dams and protect the communities who will be there forever,” Odell concludes. Overall, it will take an engaged society — from the mining industry to government officials to individuals — to think critically about the role we each play in our quest for a more sustainable planet, and what that might mean for the most vulnerable populations among us.

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