The kites fly again

The iconic movie Jurassic Park has provided us with quite a number of quotable lines:

"I hate it when I'm always right."

"Clever girl."

"That is one big pile of shit."

"See?  Nobody cares."

"Hold onto your butts."

But as someone who has studied (and taught) evolution for decades, none of them has stuck in my mind like Ian Malcolm's pronouncement, "Life... uh... finds a way."

This short sentence sums up something really profound; however the Earth's ecosystems are damaged, they always bounce back.  Even after the catastrophic Permian-Triassic Extinction -- which by some estimates wiped out 90% of the existing taxa on Earth -- there was a recovery and rediversification.

Note that I'm not saying that means it was a good thing.  The end Permian extinction event was, it is believed, caused by an unimaginably huge series of volcanic eruptions, followed by a major spike in the carbon dioxide content of the atmosphere -- leading to a jump in the global temperature and catastrophic oceanic anoxia.

So yeah.  "Life survived" doesn't mean it'd have been a fun event to live through.  But it should give us hope that the damage humans can do to the Earth as a whole is, in the grand scheme of things, short-lived.

As an encouraging example of this, take a recent study out of the University of Florida on snail kites.  These birds, related to hawks and falcons, are serious food specialists; they eat only one species of snail, found in salt marshes like the Everglades (and also parts of Central America; I first saw snail kites in Belize).  When things are stable, being a specialist is a good thing -- you pretty much corner the market on a particular resource, like the South American hummingbird species whose bills are shaped to fit one and only one species of flower.  The snail kite's food finickiness is this same sort of thing, and as long as the Everglades was undamaged and had an abundant supplies of snails, all was well.

[Image licensed under the Creative Commons Bernard DUPONT from FRANCE, Snail Kite (Rosthramus sociabilis) Poconé, Mato Grosso, CC BY-SA 2.0]

But when the environment is rapidly changing, either through human effects or because of natural events, being a specialist is seriously precarious.  When a new species of snail -- the island apple snail -- was introduced to the Everglades, its larger size and voracious appetite outcompeted the native snails, and the snail kites were in trouble because their bills weren't large and heavy enough to tackle the bigger prey.

Snail kites were already on the Endangered Species List, given that the Everglades has been massively damaged by human activity.  This, it seemed, might be the death blow to the Florida population of this striking bird.

But... life, uh, finds a way.

The snail kite, in a near-perfect reenactment of the bill diversification in Darwin's finches in the Galapagos, had a variety of bill sizes.  Genetic diversity, despite their extreme specialization.  Before the introduction of the island apple snail, bill size probably didn't make much difference, positive or negative, to the individual birds.  But now, large bills were a serious advantage.  The birds with the biggest bills could tackle the larger snail species -- meaning they had a copious food source that their smaller-billed cousins couldn't utilize.

And in the thirteen years since the introduction of the island apple snail, the average bill size has gone up dramatically -- and the overall population is rebounding.

"Beak size had been increasing every year since the invasion of the snail from about 2007,” said Robert Fletcher, who co-authored the study.  "At first, we thought the birds were learning how to handle snails better or perhaps learning to forage on the smaller, younger individual snails...  We found that beak size had a large amount of genetic variance and that more variance happened post-invasion of the island apple snail.  This indicates that genetic variations may spur rapid evolution under environmental change."

As I said earlier, this is not meant to give the anti-environmental types another reason to say, "Meh, we don't have to change what we're doing, things'll be okay regardless."  Most species aren't as fortunate as the snail kites, already having the genetic diversity to cope with a sudden change.  Much more likely, if we keep doing what we're doing, the specialist species in the world will simply be wiped out.

Whether we'll be able to survive in such a changed world remains to be seen.

But one thing is nearly certain; even if we catastrophically damage the global ecosystem, it will rebound eventually.  Which is hopeful, as far as it goes.  Even after Homo sapiens is another fossilized footnote in the Earth's geological history, life will persist -- once more generating, in Darwin's immortal words, "endless forms most beautiful and most wonderful."

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 Many of us were riveted to the screen last week watching the successful landing of the Mars Rover Perseverance, and it brought to mind the potential for sending a human team to investigate the Red Planet.  The obstacles to overcome are huge; the four-odd-year voyage there and back, requiring a means for producing food, and purifying air and water, that has to be damn near failsafe.

Consider what befell the unfortunate astronaut Mark Watney in the book and movie The Martian, and you'll get an idea of what the crew could face.

Physicist and writer Kate Greene was among a group of people who agreed to participate in a simulation of the experience, not of getting to Mars but of being there.  In a geodesic dome on the slopes of Mauna Loa in Hawaii, Greene and her crewmates stayed for four months in isolation -- dealing with all the problems Martian visitors would run into, not only the aforementioned problems with food, water, and air, but the isolation.  (Let's just say that over that time she got to know the other people in the simulation really well.)

In Once Upon a Time I Lived on Mars: Space, Exploration, and Life on Earth, Greene recounts her experience in the simulation, and tells us what the first manned mission to Mars might really be like.  It makes for wonderful reading -- especially for people like me, who are just fine staying here in comfort on Earth, but are really curious about the experience of living on another world.

If you're an astronomy buff, or just like a great book about someone's real and extraordinary experiences, pick up a copy of Once Upon a Time I Lived on Mars.  You won't regret it.

[Note: if you purchase this book using the image/link below, part of the proceeds goes to support Skeptophilia!]

The price of precaution

There's a fundamental idea in ecology called the precautionary principle.  Put simply, the precautionary principle says that it's always easier and cheaper to prevent environmental damage than it is to clean up the mess afterwards.

Note that this is not saying we can predict and prevent every disaster.  Mother Nature has a mean curve ball.  But there are all too many instances of the powers-that-be hearing, acknowledging, and then ignoring the advice of the scientists and other experts, with devastating results.

Let's look at a quick example before I tell you what this post is really about.

The Everglades were once a sawgrass, cypress, mangrove, and palmetto wetland encompassing most of the southern tip of Florida.  Through this wetland flowed a 100 kilometer wide sheet of water slowly making its way to the Gulf of Mexico and the Atlantic Ocean.  The wetland acted as a natural filter, and the water entering the sea was remarkably pure and sediment-free.  The area was home to hundreds of native species, some found nowhere else on Earth, and hundreds more used it as a stopover point on migration.

The Everglades [image courtesy of the Wikimedia Commons]

The problem is, you can't raise cattle, grow oranges, or build houses in a wetland.  So in the first few decades of the 20th century, the Everglades were "improved" -- that is, turned into a patchwork of swamp with 2250 kilometers of canals, levees, and spillways designed to drain land for settlement.  The 160 kilometer long Kissimmee River was “straightened” by the Army Corps of Engineers for flood control; it’s now 84 kilometers long and has drained the wetlands north of Lake Okeechobee, which farmers turned into cow pastures.

In 1947, ecologists saw what was happening, and lobbied for protection.  In that year the founding of Everglades National Park attempted to conserve part of it, but you can't draw an arbitrary line around a piece of land and assume that what happens outside the line won't matter.  Continued development progressively cut off the water flow to the wetland, and in the following years between 75% and 90% of the park’s wildlife (depending on how you count the toll) disappeared.

Fast forward to 1990, when finally the Florida state government took notice -- prompted not by the recognition that Everglades National Park is one of the most damaged national parks in the United States, but because without the wetland, farmers and landowners were beginning to see problems.  The Everglades acted as a water catchment, and its reduced size caused a loss of fresh groundwater.  Not only did this compromise agriculture, it led to saline intrusion into wells, and the opening up of limestone sinkholes -- some big enough to swallow houses.  The sediment and fertilizer runoff that was once filtered by the marsh was now being ejected into the Gulf of Mexico and the Atlantic Ocean, killing fish, fouling coral reefs, and clouding the water.

The result was that in the late 1990s the government of Florida reluctantly agreed to the world’s largest ecological restoration project, to be carried out between 2000 and 2038.  It plans to restore the Kissimmee River to its original course, buying up farmland and creating new wetlands for both wildlife habitat and to filter agricultural runoff, and to create 18 large reservoirs to supply drinking water and slow down freshwater diversion.

At a cost to taxpayers of $7.8 billion.  To, if I haven't hammered in this point strongly enough, undo everything that we've done in the past eighty years, and return things back to where they would have been if we hadn't screwed them up royally in the first place.

This all comes up because two days ago, Crestwood Midstream, the company that is planning to expand natural gas storage in salt caverns underneath Seneca Lake, received a last-minute two year extension from the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission on their rights to use the site.  It had been hoped that FERC would come to their senses and deny the permit, but whether money talked or the officials at FERC simply shrugged and said, "Well, nothing bad has happened yet," they chose to allow the Texas-based company to continue in this reckless and irresponsible practice.

Seneca Lake [image courtesy of the Wikimedia Commons]

Just how reckless and irresponsible are we talking about, here?  All it should take is one statistic to convince you: salt cavern storage accounts for only 7% of the total underground storage of natural gas in the United States, but was responsible for 100% of the catastrophic accidents from natural gas storage that resulted in loss of life.  

A major accident here in the form of a cavern breach wouldn't just endanger the workers at Crestwood Midstream's facility in the Town of Reading; it would result in the salinization of the south end of Seneca Lake, one of the largest freshwater lakes in the Northeast, and the source of drinking water and water for irrigation for tens of thousands.  It would imperil the Finger Lakes wine industry, one of the biggest sources of revenue and tourism in the area.

Worst still, it would be damn near impossible to clean up.  You think the bill for wrecking the Everglades was high?  That's nothing compared to what it would take to rectify a salt cavern collapse and the resulting explosion.  If it was remediable at all.

And how likely is this?  Is this simply a panicked overreaction?  Another fact might clarify: a mere fifty years ago, a 400,000 ton chunk of the roof of one of the very salt caverns Crestwood is proposing to use caved in.

Imagine what the result would have been had the cavern been filled with natural gas.

Put simply, the precautionary principle isn't alarmism.  Oddly enough, we have no problem with the idea with respect to our homes, health, and lives; why it's so hard for people to swallow with respect to the planet we live on is incomprehensible to me.

And for a government regulatory commission like FERC to give Crestwood carte blanche to proceed with this potentially devastating plan is the height of irresponsibility.