Headwaters Magazine - Fall 2022

HEADWATERS

It’s a Microbial World

By Valentin Kostelnik | page 4

Nature’s Instincts

By Amelia Veleber | page 7

From Milkweed to Mexico: Protecting the Endangered Monarch

By Sadie Holmes | page 9

The Far Reaching Impacts of the Exotic Pet Trade

By Tessa Weir | page 11

Mountains in my Mind

By Jamie Cull-Host | page 14

Incentives for Forest Conservation: How Costa Rica Turned Deforestation Around and Why it May Have Gone Too Far

By Deniz Dutton | page 15

On Thin Ice: Climate Change and the Future of Pandemics

By Lauren Manning | page 19

The Yew Tree

By Colby Fong | page 21

Environmentalism and Satire

By Cedulie Benoit-Smith | page 23

Only Human

By Kate Kampner | page 25

Fragile Utopia

By Lindsey Papasian | page 27

Collection of Poetry

By Ava Fusco, Jamie Cull-Host, and Teresa Helms | page 28

Other Beings Live Here Too! An Exploration of Responsible Outdoor Recreation

By East Underwood | page 31

The Family Line

By Loden Croll | page 33

Editors

Aiden Armstrong

Anna Eldridge

Ben Mowery

Bryn Macnabb

Cole Barry

Deniz Dutton

Elaina Buursma

Fosca Bechthold

Jake Hogan

Kate Wojeck

Laura O’Brien

Loden Croll

Megan Sutor

Sarah O’Leary

Teresa Helms

Masthead

Co-Editors-in-Chief

Jake Hogan

Teresa Helms

Managing Editor

Deniz Dutton

Creative Director

Ella Weatherington

Managing Designer

Maya Kagan

Social Media

Emma Polhemus

Jamie Cull-Host

Planning and Outreach

Adelyne Hayward

Artists and Designers

Amelia Velebar

Camille Nichols

Casey Benderoth

East Underwood

Ella Weatherington

Ellie Yatco

Emerson Coffman

Emma Polhemus

Gigi Machon

Lauren Manning

Lindsey Papsian

Maggie Alberghini

Maya Kagan

Sadie Holmes

Bridging the Gap (Cover)

Ella Weatherington

Colored pencil and collage

This semester, our magazine theme is fragility, so for my cover I wanted to incorporate elements from the pieces in the magazine with my own ideas of fragility. The central focus is an older person holding a butterfly and then a young set of hands releasing butterflies. This represents new ideas and hope, but also shows the passing of ideas between generations and how ideas are fragile, much like butterflies. Now more than ever I think it is important to bridge the gap between generations and fight for a more sustainable future.

Photograph by Maya Kagan

Dear Reader,

Welcome to the 13th edition of Headwaters Magazine! We first must express how grateful we are, as always, for the continued support of many organizations and members of the UVM community, including the Rubenstein School of Environment and Natural Resources, the Student Government Association, our advisor, Josh Brown. This year, we were especially overwhelmed by the amount of interest we received from passionate, creative students, and we count ourselves lucky that many of them have joined our editorial and design teams this fall. We are endlessly grateful that so many people continue to value and be inspired by the work that Headwaters does and the unique voices that contribute to it.

The content featured in this edition of Headwaters is tied together by a common theme: fragility. As our writers examine the delicate wings of a butterfly, explore vulnerable ecosystems in our own national parks and in the forests of Costa Rica, and investigate viruses looming within increasingly unstable glacial ice, a refrain of warning might be heard: the world as we know it is not guaranteed. And yet, even louder, are their calls for perseverance. As farmers learn to foster microbial complexity to sustain soils, we might learn to build resiliency by connecting with each other. Stories of familial love remind us that in our vulnerability, we may find strength in caring for those around us.

And, we must also celebrate that in the face of many looming challenges, our team still finds the resolve to create something so resolutely hopeful. Above all else, we hope that Headwaters can provide respite from this overwhelm. May you find as much encouragement in these pages as we found in bringing them together.

Because, if the creativity, intelligence, and motivation displayed by those who contribute to this publication is any indication of the future… we think we’ll be alright.

Sincerely,

Jake Hogan University of Vermont ‘23 Co-Editor-in-Chief

Teresa Helms University of Vermont ‘24 Co-Editor-in-Chief

Photograph by Ella Weatherington

It’s a Microbial World

By Valentin Kostelnik

There’s a world just beyond our eyesight that powers everything we see: the world of microbes. Most plants you see in nature are not capable of living alone, and are sustained and protected by the microbial world. In the bustling zone called the rhizosphere, where soil meets root, billions of diverse microbes create complex support systems for plants.

Dennis Dierks is a farmer in Northern California who for 50 years has experimented with the microbial world to achieve self-sufficiency, replacing synthetic fertilizers and pesticides with natural processes. “I always wanted to feed the microbes in the soil, not the plants that I will put in the ground. The microbes break the [compost and fertilizer] down and feed the plants.”

At the farmer’s market, his fresh produce is vibrant, nutritious, and stays fresher longer than that of other vendors. With his farm of about five acres, he has been met with considerable success, which he attributes to the superiority of his products: “The flavors and the nutrients are there, and we’ve got this big following of customers that were very loyal. And the restaurants started picking up on it, so we had these lines of chefs. And it’s all because…most of our focus was feeding the soil before the plants that go in it.”

Despite his future success, Dennis began with almost no background in farming. He got a degree from the San Francisco Art Institute and illustrated textbooks before turning to farming. In those first years, he often asked himself, “am I an artist farming or a farmer who paints?” But, Dennis considers his unlikely background a blessing, saying “if I went to ag school instead of art school, I’d be buying bags of chemical fertilizer!”

Dennis’s current methods are adapted from those of Dr. Han Kyu Cho, a Korean farmer and researcher who developed ways of obtaining and sustaining nutrients and microbes from the environment. Dr. Cho designed these techniques to be implemented by small farms in developing countries, but they work almost anywhere.

Dennis’s farm is in a small valley an hour north of San Francisco, surrounded by forest and streams. Using tools picked up from Dr. Cho and other farmers, Dennis has tried to replicate the processes he sees working well for plants in nature. Although he admits “it was a long learning curve,” his methods have drawn acclaim within the sustainable agriculture community.

Once, he even received a visit from Prince Charles. The

now-King Charles, who has long been alarmed by the effect of industrial agriculture on England, toured Dennis’s farm to learn about Dennis’s microbial brews while visiting the Bay Area. I also had the chance to tour his farm, and see firsthand the microbial world at work in Dennis’s fields.

Dennis beckons me over to a covered plastic blue 50-gallon tank and puts one hand on the lid. As he lifts it up, I unconsciously lean in to see the swirl of red and yellow sludge filling the barrel, then stumble back a second later when the stench hits me.

“You should’ve seen Prince Charles’ face when I showed him that!” Dennis chuckles and gives the barrel an affectionate kick. I build up my courage and take a closer look at the sludge.

The barrel is full of fermented fish guts, which Dennis tells me are being consumed and transformed by billions of tiny organisms, and the brightly colored sludge I see on top is just a few inches of floating scum. Beneath it lies 50 gallons of fish emulsion, full of nitrogen, phosphorus, and potassium at a ratio of 4:1:1, comparable to most chemical fertilizers. Dennis’s son, a local fisherman, generates a lot of inedible “waste” products that are full of nutrients, but aren’t

immediately available for plant uptake. Dennis puts them in big barrels with some water, pours in a gallon of molasses to feed the fermenters and increase the osmotic pull on nutrients in the fish, and lets it sit for a week or two. Microbes immediately start breaking the organic structures down, the molasses speeds it up, and the fish is broken down into highly concentrated fertilizer, produced at no cost besides labor.

Dennis uses this simple procedure to extract nutrients and minerals from dozens of other sources—whatever he thinks might benefit his vegetables and soil. One example is silica, a mineral which research has proven to increase plant growth and pest resistance. The mineral is abundant in horsetail grass, a common plant in North ern California, so Dennis chops it up and ferments it with some water, mo lasses, and microbes to give his vegetables an extra boost of silica. “Once you have this knowledge of how to extract the nutrients, you can look at any plant that you think might help. Once you start to look at your en vironment and can pick and choose what you need, it makes the food chain im mediate and available.”

He might have four or five barrels fermenting at the same time, full of horsetail grass, fish guts, kelp, stinging nettle, or any other plant he thinks will do well in his fields. By extracting nutrients from the surrounding land, Dennis can acquire all the fertilizer he needs in a year from within a few miles of his house. But the key to his success lies not in the fertilizer he feeds the crops, but in the microbial networks thus fostered in their roots.

As Dennis explains, healthy soil is alive with billions of diverse microbes: the soil food web. In most modern industrial farms, the soil food web is absent, but Dennis actively promotes it. He believes a healthy web can, among other things, make nutrients available to plants and provide protection from harmful pests, making chemical fertilizers and pesticides unnecessary.

One example of nutrient-cycling microbes is nitro-

gen-fixing bacteria, which can draw atmospheric nitrogen into the soil and convert it to its plant-available form, ammonia. Other microorganisms, like lactobacilli, colonize plant cells, stimulate plant growth, and guard against harmful bacteria, and fungal microbes like mycorrhizae bond with roots to build support structures in the rhizosphere. Almost all land plants are partnered with at least one type of soil microorganism, and we’re still discovering the true variety and complexity of these extraordinary and diverse relationships. Dennis studies these interactions, determines the most beneficial microorganisms for his crops, and introduces them to his soil.

“It’s a beautiful way of looking at the forest. It becomes more than just a spectacle and something pretty, and you’re also studying the systems and replicating them.”

Dennis’s farm lies in a broad, flat valley surrounded by thickly forested slopes. If I dug up some forest soil on the slopes, I would see delicate threads of white hyphae winding through the soil particles: mycorrhizae.

The mycorrhizae build dense complexes of thin hyphae strands that can extract hard-to-reach nutrients from the soil to the plant, receiving carbohydrates in return. These hyphal networks also stabilize the soil, improve water-holding capacity, out-compete pathogenic fungi, and sequester carbon in the process. These microbes are constantly at work in the forest around the farm, and Dennis has brought them into his own soil.

Oaks in California form particularly robust partnerships with mycorrhizae, so Dennis gathers those for his crops. A clump of soil gathered from under an oak is put into a wooden box filled with cooked white rice, which is mostly carbohydrates, to serve as “bait.” The oak mycorrhizae feed on the rice and multiply, but Dennis is not done yet. The fungi that bond with bamboo are fantastic for water-holding capacity and filtration, and he wants these as well. He buries the box a few feet deep in a bamboo grove by his house, covers it with soil, and leaves it. The white rice draws in mycorrhizae from the soil and when he re-

moves the box after a week it “looks like a rainbow from all the fungi covering it.” The bright clump is then mixed with water and molasses for food and put in a pail until Dennis is ready to apply it to his fields.

Another type of beneficial microbe is lactobacillus, a genus of yeasts whose uses to humans are numerous, from making yogurt to sourdough bread and in Dennis’ case, growing vegetables. Lactobacilli can be found in many wild plants, even colonizing the very cells of plants, and increases plant growth while out-competing pathogens.

The gathering process is, again, surprisingly simple. Dennis washes rice and pours the water, now milky white from rice millings, into a pail. The pure carbohydrates from the rice millings draw yeast out of the atmosphere, which begin feeding and multiplying.

After a few days the pail is bustling with microbes, but Dennis wants to isolate the lactobacilli. He pours milk into the pail, giving the dairy-loving lactobacilli a chance to outcompete the others, and a week later a thick cap forms on top, which “looks like a living skin.” This is just the fat separated from the milk, but right under it is a clear layer of pure lactobacillus, which Dennis siphons out and puts in another pail with some molasses for food.

At this point in the season, he has a pail of lactobacillus, another of mycorrhizae, a few 55-gallon barrels of various fermented fertilizers, and a greenhouse full of young plants. He has all the ingredients and is ready to begin combining and applying them. As he says, he always remained a painter. “I just changed my palette from paints to soils.”

Dennis mixes his ingredients in something called an Aerated Compost Tea Brewer, which extracts, multiplies, and combines the microorganisms living in whatever you put in it. First, you take some finished compost (which is full of decomposing microbes), stuff a large “teabag” with it, and hang the bag in a 55-gallon tank. Fill this tank with water, molasses, and desirable microbes, then put in a pump at the bottom of the tank to push air bubbles up through the solution and keep the microbes aerated. “All these pieces just sort of kept coming together over time. And the field tells you exactly what you’re doing, if it’s right or wrong.”

Dennis fills the Aerated Tea Brewer with some of everything he has gathered so far: lactobacillus, mycorrhizae, fish emulsion, and the plants he’s fermented that year. All these nutrients and microbes blend into a densely populated microbial tea full of plant-available nutrients.

The little greenhouse plants are soaked in this solution for a few hours, and the microbes so carefully gathered and fostered over the prior months finally seep into their roots, where they will live until harvest. At the same time, the fertilizers fermented from fish, kelp, and horsetail grass

provide much-needed nutrients to tide the plant over. The kelp extract provides vitamin D, which is known to help plants deal with stresses like transplanting, and the horsetail offers silica, helping the plants form strong structures as they are planted in the fields.

The rest of the compost tea, along with other ingredients including the unmixed mycorrhizae, lactobacillus, and fermented plants, are diluted with water, poured into a tank hooked to the back of a tractor, and sprayed over the field. The solutions are sprayed over the field three or four times before harvest, and provide Dennis’s plants with all the nutrients and pest-protection they need. Dennis the artist-farmer has mixed and applied his microbial paints, and the finished product is beautiful.

In contrast with his vegetables, or similarly grown produce, Dennis says, “most commercial stuff is mostly just water. There’re no nutrients in it, and it just doesn’t have any life!”

Much of American agriculture is highly industrialized, and has replaced the soil food web with chemical fertilizers and pesticides. But, these practices are degrading our soils at unsustainable rates. While Dennis’ soil is home to a living complex of microbes, the dirt under most industrial farmland is dead, with no hyphae holding it together, and erodes easily once plants are harvested. It also has a lower water-holding capacity, making flooding events worse. The crops lack a supportive rhizosphere and have a difficult time accessing nutrients applied by chemical fertilizers, so a lot of it runs off into nearby waterbodies. Not only is this wasteful, it can also produce algal blooms like those plaguing Lake Champlain or the Gulf of Mexico.

Developing countries are better poised to take advantage of the microbial world than any other, because most of their farmland is still held by small farmers that have not fully industrialized. These farmers can use methods like Dennis’, adapted for their own environment, and achieve self-reliance while also producing high quality food.

The prospect of a shift towards microbes and soils as the key to agriculture is an exciting one, and gaining traction worldwide. On top of the practical benefits farmers can gain from this shift, Dennis has found enormous joy in his farming. He says, “a lot of it is just sitting on the ground, using my senses. Once you start to understand these systems a bit, how they work and how you can use them, you just get totally absorbed by them.”

I asked him if he had any tips for the next generation of farmers, who might follow the path he did:

“Have fun!” H

Art by Sadie Holmes

Nature’s Instincts

By Amelia Veleber

A bead of sweat dribbles down the face of a young child as they stumble down the wooden steps leading to their backyard. They have not entirely mastered walking yet, but are determined to make it to the small patch of pink flowers in the garden. As they finally make it to their special spot, they sit down on the dewy green grass. Something new has caught their eye— a green leaf-like attachment hung on the stem of a plant. Unlike the flat surface of a leaf, this attachment is rounded. Little does the young child know, it holds something quite wondrous inside. The green object eases to life and a bright orange, winged creature breaks free of its casing.

“Butterfly!” the child yells in excitement, having only seen them in picture books. The butterfly attempts to glide through the air on its still wrinkled wings, but wobbles a bit, reminiscent of the child stumbling down the steps. Nature’s instincts take over quickly though, and the butterfly is soon able to synchronize its wing motions and move forward without dipping into the air. As the butterfly gains speed, it flies upward, and the child lifts their hand to wave goodbye to their new friend, now embarking on a great journey.

Little does the young child know, their small friend will soon be traveling far away with thousands of other Eastern Monarch butterflies beside it. As the air turns crisp and the leaves begin to fall, nature signals that it is time for them to follow the warmth.

***

The butterflies fly for miles, as the sun beams down

with hope and strength, fueling them towards their destination. Eastern Monarchs only migrate to the Transvolcanic Mountains in Mexico for the winter, where the cool, wet climatic conditions are ideal for their ability to thrive. Here, the oyamel fir trees provide shelter for the butterflies during the winter months and protect them from harsh precipitation and wind.

After a hefty 3,000 mile journey, they reach their destination, where they inhabit only eleven to fourteen known sites each year.

The remnants of an old, wise forest persist in carrying on the legacy of a once-bountiful and thriving ecological community. The butterflies flutter around anxiously, struggling to find firs on which to cluster. The forest is surrounded by large, cleared plots of land scattered with machinery. Uniform lines of wide tree stumps reveal the extent to which the forest has been thinned. These trees are a source of lumber, and logging has been increasing in recent decades. According to reports from NPR, “the butterflies’ population occupied only 2.10 hectares in 2020, compared to 2.8 hectares a year earlier. And the Monarch Biosphere Reserve in Michoacán, Mexico, lost trees at a higher rate than it did in 2019.” While the forests used to have a multitude of tall, protective trees, there are no longer enough for the butterflies to find shelter within.

Monarchs are the only known species of butterfly to make a two-way migration. As spring rolls around, the butterflies that were able to find shelter during the winter months are eager to head back north. They anticipate lush

plots of Milkweed that will provide both a source of food and a place on which to lay their eggs.

As the monarchs head northward, they frequently find themselves flying over barren fields of grass, dirt, and developed areas. At some point, a butterfly may spot a small cluster of flowers on which to plant their eggs. This is vastly different from long ago when the Eastern Monarchs could easily encounter expanses of pink, orange, or white patches of milkweed habitat. According to the Center for Biological Diversity, “Monarchs have lost an estimated 165 million acres of breeding habitat in the United States to herbicide spraying and development in recent decades.” ***

It does not take long for the child to convince their mom to buy them their own “butterfly flower,” as the child called it, which consisted of a small milkweed seedling. Although the seedling is small now, it will one day grow tall and strong, like the young child. This seedling is of utmost importance for the Eastern Monarch Butterfly, as Milkweed is the only plant that their larvae feed on, and the only plant that they will lay their eggs on. Its nectar is also utilized as a source of food when they are fully grown. By planting a Milkweed plant, this helps create a habitat and a source of food for the Eastern Monarch Butterfly, a species that is now on the Endangered species list. H

Art by Amelia Velebar

From Milkweed to Mexico: Protecting the Endangered Monarch

By Sadie Holmes

Monarchs are a ubiquitous sign of midsummer in Vermont, as they return in the thousands from their overwintering Northern Mexico. Their spectacular migration is the longest of any butterfly species – 3,000 miles on fragile wings – to fulfill a natural cycle of which we still have relatively little understanding. However, in recent years, the number of butterflies to make this journey

According to the International Union for Conservation of Nature (IUCN), eastern monarch populations have declined by as much as 72% over the last decade. They face threats including logging in Mexico and California, herbicide and pesticide use, climate change, and loss of the species they depend on: milkweed. In July 2022, monarch butterflies were officially added to the IUCN Red List of Endangered Species.

“It’s sort of a desperate situation out there in the world,” reflects Donna Bister, a lifelong Vermonter. Every summer since 2016, Donna and her husband, Marc Estrin, have made it a tradition to raise and release several “classes” of eastern monarchs from their milkweed-filled backyard in the Old North End of Burlington.

“We just started doing it because we noticed that there was a little milkweed growing beside our house. I thought…‘there should be some monarchs.’”

Donna and Marc buy butterfly eggs from a commercial butterfly farm in Pennsylvania and watch as dozens of hungry caterpillars emerge from their chrysalises and spread their damp wings.

Nationally, monarchs have been declining for decades. In an article for PBS, Scott Hoffman Black, executive director of the Xerces Society for Invertebrate Conservation, reported that there have been losses in the hundreds of millions—from over 370 million monarchs in the 1980s to an estimated 45 million in 2020. According to Black, the declines can mainly be attributed to human land use changes: the growth of industrial agriculture, increasing rates of pesticide and herbicide usage, and the sprawl of human development that continues to replace open meadows with concrete and neatly trimmed and treated lawns. The problem is of particular importance in the Corn Belt of the

Midwest, where 50% of migratory monarchs originate.

“The question among scientists is: What’s the extinction threshold for this migration?” says Elizabeth Howard, Vermont’s resident monarch migration reporter, in an article for the Burlington Free Press. “How small can that population get in Mexico where it just can’t recover?”

Although we may not have the answers to Howard’s question, the science behind the monarchs’ journey may give us hints towards how to protect them. Monarchs cycle through four or five generations each year, the last of which is equipped with key genetic differences that make them physically suited for migration. While the summer generations live for two to six weeks, the migratory generation of monarchs can live for up to nine months, and these butterflies have larger wingspans built for long-distance flight.

As the goldenrods bloom and Vermont’s maples take on the first hint of red, the migratory generation launches into a unique spiraling “flight dance.” We’re still not entirely sure how monarchs know where to go, but research points toward the use of biophysical cues, such as the sun, wind, and variation within the Earth’s magnetic field, to calibrate an ingrained magnetic compass located in the antennae. In a University of Kansas study, monarchs released in open, ambient field conditions oriented themselves with a repeated looping flight to high altitudes, where they could then establish a final migratory flight direction to the south or southwest.

Once their internal compass is on track, the continental nomads journey about 30 miles per day and have been spotted flying at altitudes higher than the Empire State Building. But a loss of nectar-supplying habitat, coupled with other threats including changes in temperature and precipitation, throws off the delicate cycle of the monarch. Humans simply aren’t factored into their biological rhythms.

The loss of monarchs, aside from a cultural and sentimental significance, has a far-reaching ripple effect. They are an important food source for avian predators such as black-headed orioles and grosbeaks, which can tolerate the levels of toxins present in adult monarchs. They are also key pollinators. Losing one pollinator is often an indicator of a larger problem as other, similar species tend to be affected by the same environmental fluctuations.

The loss of pollinators such as butterflies and bees spells out major problems for global food systems, as almost 80%

Art by Sadie Holmes

Headwaters

of crop plants require insect pollination. As stated succinctly by the USDA Forest Service, “Without pollinators, the human race and all of earth’s terrestrial ecosystems would not survive.”

Working to protect monarchs not only serves the butterflies themselves, but indirectly protects the many other organisms that make up our planet’s ecological communities. Monarchs’ characteristic beauty and vibrant colors are widely adored, making them the perfect representative figure for butterfly advocacy. “Because people really love it, people are willing to take action to protect it,” explains Black for PBS. “And by protecting it, they’re protecting bees and other butterflies as well. So this iconic species can really help way beyond just itself.”

Despite the heavy impacts humans have on monarch populations, some actions are being taken to better support these seasonal visitors as well as other pollinating insects. A March 2022 Stateline article describes an unprecedented monarch conservation agreement across 23 state lines, from Vermont to Texas.

The Monarch Candidate Conservation Agreement with Assurances, or CCAA, asks businesses and landowners to commit to actions that will protect monarchs and their habitat, such as pest and vegetation management. The goal of the group is to preserve 2.1 million acres of pollinator habitat across the continental United States. In the two years since the agreement began, three dozen organizations have agreed to conserve a total 815,000 acres of highway and energy corridors.

In places like Burlington, Vermont, the idea of planting pollinator habitat is relatively new and spreading quickly.

“I would say fifteen years ago the city was on everybody’s case to make sure their green belts were always mowed down,” reflects Donna Bitser. “Well, our neighborhood had a big fight with them about it. And now, anything goes. We can plant anything as long as it doesn’t obstruct.”

In addition to “rewilding” lawns and green spaces, land management practices can also be altered and timed to meet both human and monarchs’ needs at different stages of the life cycle. For example, delaying agricultural mowing until September allows the migrating butterflies to safely emerge from their chrysalis and gather enough late-summer nectar to fuel the first part of their flight.

This summer, Donna and Marc released over one hundred butterflies in four generational cycles. The fourth will wing their way south this fall, following a cold front that will allow them to join millions of others in the highland forests of Michoacan, Mexico, just as their ancestors have for the last 10,000 years.

Perhaps monarch conservation is about preserving not just the butterfly, but the wonder that comes with their very existence.

“You know, every time I see one actually come out of the chrysalis, it’s kind of a magic moment,” says Donna. To her, and many others, the journey of the monarch–from tiny egg to caterpillar to world-traveling butterfly–is one well worth protecting.

Donna was also profiled by Seven Days in a great episode of Stuck In Vermont.

To be a part of monarch conservation, check out Journey North (journeynorth.org/monarchs) for an opportunity to record monarch sightings and help tell the story of migration. H

The Far-Reaching Impacts of the Exotic Pet Trade

By Tessa Weir

Part I: What is the Exotic Pet Trade?

You might not think anything of your friend keeping a cute and innocent pet lizard, but as it turns out, this little reptile is linked to an industry with heavy implications for environmen tal health. The exotic wildlife trade is a $15 billion dollar industry that supplies people with fascinating animals from all over the world, ranging from remarkable reptiles to powerful primates. While definitions of what constitutes an exotic pet vary, the term is commonly understood to apply to any animal kept outside its natural environment. Unusual and enticing, these exotics attract a wide range of animal-loving consumers, often with the best of intentions. Unfortunately, the industry comes riddled with ethical, environment, and legal concerns. The trade can promote the spread of deadly zoonotic diseases, introduce invasive species to local ecosystems, and cause extreme stress and premature death for the ani mals involved. Understanding these threats and implementing legislation to address them is key to creating a more ethical pet trade.

As of 2022, exotics account for 50% of the

pets kept in the United States. According to National Geographic, the United States imported 3.24 billion animals from 2000 to 2014, most of which ended up as pets. Being taken from wild habitats and relocated across international borders can be incredibly stressful and often results in death or injury for these animals. If animals survive the transport process, they are then reliant on whomever purchases them, and whether their new owners have adequate knowledge and funds to care for them. Many animals die prematurely, with a staggering 75% of reptiles dying within their first year in captivity due to lack of owner education and difficulty finding adequate veterinary care. Pets may also escape or be intentionally released due to their owners being unable to afford them or the pet growing too large. To the uncommitted, an exotic can seem like a shiny toy that can be thrown away the second they become inconvenient. Even more troubling, the laws surrounding the exotic pet

trade are not always enough to prevent exploitation.

The exotic pet trade encompasses both a legal market of exchanges and a black market. Generating an estimated $10 million a year, wildlife smuggling is the third largest form of illegal trade, topped only by drugs and weapons. The Natural Resource Defense Council estimates that the illegal wildlife trade is the second biggest threat to animals after habitat loss. To combat this tragic loss of biodiversity, laws exist at the state, federal, and international levels.

Each U.S. state has their own laws concerning the transport and private ownership of exotic animals. An animal easily obtained in one state may be completely banned in another, while somewhere else a permit is required. Twenty states, including Vermont, have banned exotic pets completely. This comprehensive ban means that exotic animals may only be obtained for educational purposes, and even then, only with the proper permit. The complex rules and regulations can make it difficult for the average person to know what animals they can own and how to legally obtain or register them. It can also mean that a high-maintenance animal, that most pet owners are not equipped to handle, can legally end up in a cage for only a small permit fee.

At the national level, the Lacey Act combats illegal wildlife and plant trafficking. Originally enacted in 1900 and amended many times since, the Lacey Act is the oldest wildlife protection statute in the U.S. and covers a very broad range of species, including the often overlooked categories of reptiles and amphibians. This act prohibits the transport of illegally harvested fauna and flora. Critically, it includes harsher punishments, like imprisonment, compared to some international laws with similar goals.

The Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species of Wild Fauna and Flora (CITES) was adopted on a global scale in 1975. The agreement targets transport to ensure endangered and protected species are traded ethically. The convention does this by creating a licensing system under which each participating nation has authorities that manage, transport, and appoint scientists that advise on the impacts of the trade on different species. While important, CITES has been criticized for being limited to transport while having no impact on how animals are captured or what their living conditions are like once sold. Typical transport of frogs—half alive and smashed together as they’re ferried across borders in substandard conditions— illustrates the typical effect of the trade, with some ports seeing 80% of animals coming through hurt, ill, or dead. The mistreatment of reptiles and amphibians can be especially difficult to punish, as their signs of pain or distress aren’t as noticeable to humans as those of mammals. The penalty for violating the agreement is usually a fine as opposed to jail time, which may not be enough of a deterrent

for potential contributors to wildlife crime. It has also been criticized for not covering enough species, and additionally for focusing only on charismatic megafauna, large animals well known and appreciated by the public. Worse, species aren’t covered by CITES until they are already endangered and need more intervention to save.

Part II: How Do Exotic Pets Affect Their Environment?

Due to a lack of knowledge on proper care, an animal becoming too big, or an animal becoming sick, people may release their exotic pets into the wild. Because exotic pets are from a different environment, they could potentially become an invasive species. An invasive species is one that is introduced to a new environment, usually due to human activity, and causes harm to that new environment, sometimes by outcompeting or preying on native species. According to the National Wildlife Federation, 42% of threatened or endangered wildlife is vulnerable due to invasive species. According to a study published in Frontiers in Ecology and the Environment, 85% of the 140 non-native reptiles and amphibians species in Florida were introduced through the pet trade. Without a better understanding of the black market and which species are most likely to be traded, this problem will only get worse.

Another negative impact of the exotic pet trade is the promotion of zoonotic diseases. Zoonoses are diseases that can pass from humans to animals via direct or indirect contact, consumption, or through a vector like an insect bite. These types of diseases are not only common, but are capa-

ble of affecting people from all backgrounds. COVID-19, Monkeypox, Ebola and SARS are all well known examples of zoonotic diseases; the Center for Disease Control and Prevention estimates that 6 out of every 10 known infectious diseases are zoonotic. Diseases can easily be transferred from exotic pets to the humans handling them. Some diseases can be easily managed, like salmonella in the case of reptile and amphibian ownership. However, there can be more severe consequences like measles and tuberculosis caused by interacting with primates. Due to legal constraints and inadequate staffing, sick animals are often improperly screened for pathogens. Although there is ample legislation in place aimed at preventing black market trade, inadequate laws exist to monitor legal trade. Not even the legal market is without far-reaching and serious consequences, as it enables pathogens and disease to cross borders with uninspected wildlife.

In addition to passing disease to humans, exotic pets can infect native animals as well. One prominent example is Batrachochytrium salamandrivorans, or Bsal, a fungus that causes mass mortality or even extinction in salamander populations. While other infected amphibians like newts and frogs can bounce back, ravaged salamander populations may be completely wiped out. Originating in Asia, Bsal was introduced to Europe in 2013, likely due to the pet trade. The United States has the most diverse salamander population in the world, with many being endemic, meaning they only exist in the U.S. From 2010-2014, 750,000 salamanders were imported into the United States. Each salamander that gets imported risks bringing Bsal with them, and while Bsal hasn’t been found in the U.S. yet, if Bsal hits, it will be catastrophic to biodiversity. While the Lacey Act limits salamander importation, it doesn’t limit other amphibians that could be carriers.

Part III: What Can We Do?

Given the state of the exotic pet trade, things may seem grim. In reality, there are many initiatives that can make the pet trade safer and more ethical. The biggest impact can be made through education. A study published in Frontiers in Ecology and Evolution found that when people were educated on the legality, conservation threats, and risks of zoonotic diseases from exotic pets, they were less likely to buy into the trade themselves. In general, better access to information on healthcare, expenses, animal husbandry, and where to find ethical sellers should be available so that people can know what they’re getting into before they adopt their pets, and can responsibly care for them. EMODE is an online resource that allows you to look up the species you want as a pet and get a rating ranging from easy to extreme on how difficult it is to properly care for that animal. The site takes into account the animal’s lifespan, disease risk, diet, habitat needs, and more to give an accurate idea on how difficult an animal is to care for. The site also provides tips for how to purchase responsibly. Further initiatives from wildlife organizations and governments like workshops or public campaigns can help ensure the public is better educated on the risks of wildlife trade.

The exotic pet trade is a massive industry that includes animal lovers and criminals alike. Exotic pet ownership can be a unique and rewarding experience, but requires knowledge of the industry’s far reaching impacts. While laws at all levels regulate the trade of wildlife, there are discrepancies in the number and kinds of species that are protected and how effectively these laws are enforced. When obtained from unethical sellers, buying an exotic pet can support inhumane capture and transport of potentially endangered animals from their homes. If released, exotic pets pose the danger of becoming invasive and spreading disease to local wildlife. Many underestimate the cost, size, and needs of an exotic pet leading to poor care or premature death. The most important step to combat these issues is education to inform competent laws and responsible pet ownership. If you or someone you know is interested in buying an exotic pet, research is required, not just on how to care for the animal, but also on laws surrounding its trade and threats to its conservation. H

Art by Emma Polhemus

Mountains in my Mind

By Jamie Cull-Host

Day breaks over a babbling brook, winding its way through a green mountain. A dove coos its morning song as minnows dart back and forth through the water. I sit on a rock, solemn and contemplative, with my feet in the stream halfway up the trail. The rock, just now graced by light, provides an outlook. From on high, I pass my gaze along the route I have taken so far. As I eye the rocks, stream crossings, and uncountable switchbacks I traversed, I feel numb. For as I look up the mountain, all at once crumbling and growing taller, I see what more there is to go, and I simply can’t imagine it.

My mind is ripped away from the mountain. I look at the hurricane on the map, I sit numb in my chair.

The gyrating mass of white and gray Approaches the coast of Florida, Bringing pain and destruction that gets worse every year. The mountain grows taller.

On the news they say an ice storm hit Texas, The electrical grid wasn’t prepared, Power is out all over the state. People are freezing to death. I call my mom.

I ask if she has heard from our family in Austin and Houston. She hasn’t yet.

The mountain grows taller.

I sit in my house watching the map of fires Burning just over the next mountain, Waiting for the evacuation call. The mountain grows taller.

Will I be too late?

Is all that I have worked for minuscule in the face of the mounting calamities? I won’t believe that.

Though the mountain is tall and the disasters constant, all is not lost. There is still time.

There are still minnows swimming next to me in the water, and doves singing in the trees. There is still hope.

I will persevere.

In spite of, and because of all of this, I will persevere. H

Art by Lindsey Papasian

Incentives for Forest Conservation: How Costa Rica Turned Deforestation Around and Why it May Have Gone Too Far

By Deniz Dutton

When it comes to environmental success stories, few countries have done better than Costa Rica. In the late 1970s, the nation was faced with a choice - either allow the recklessness of deforestation to continue or act quickly to preserve the 26% of remaining forest cover. With deforestation proceeding at a rate of 55,000 hectares (212 square miles) per year, novel legislation was passed to protect forests and the biodiversity they contained on the premise that they were a national asset that provided invaluable ecosystem services for all. This legislation, which has been amended a great deal over the years, is known as the Forestry Law. By 1998, Costa Rica announced to the world that it had stopped deforestation completely, thanks to the government’s heroic three-decade-long effort.

The era of reforestation that defined the period between 1979 and 1995 was the result of government subsidies provided to people who made commercial use of forest products instead of simply clearing forests for farmland. While deforestation was banned outright on public land, half the nation’s land area was privately owned, meaning the government needed to come up with a clever way to influence private land use. In 1996, conceptual shifts in the value of forests and the threat of climate change catalyzed a change in the country’s approach to forest management. A revised forestry law created a compensation scheme for the ecosystem services that existing forests provide. This law was the first instance that the country recognized the important role that land stewards, such as indigenous people and farmers, play in protecting the nations’ water, scenic beauty, and biodiversity. The new legislation was dubbed Payment for Environmental Services (PES), a conservation motive which complemented and furthered the successful reforestation campaign of the previous 25 years.

services. The Forestry Law defined environmental services as “services provided by forests and forest plantations that directly affect the protection and improvement of the environment.” The PES scheme financially rewards landowners who maintain their land and its environmental services, while also banning deforestation and allowing landowners to sell the environmental services that forests provide. Under this new policy, Costa Rica stopped deforestation completely, saving one million hectares of forest and planting seven million trees. Today, Costa Rican land consists of over 50% forest cover, close to the policy’s upper limit when considering other land uses, and double the lowest amount from 1983.

One of the biggest factors behind this success was the creation of the National Fund for Forestry Financing, FONAFIFO, which oversees PES, and was established in the 1996 update to the forestry law. FONAFIFO served as an institution to consolidate the five pre-existing forestry funds that had been used to incentivize reforestation, and today it is able to coordinate all of the funding needs of PES. What makes FONAFIFO stand out is its diverse sources of funding. The three largest sources are taxes on fossil fuels (3.5%), water use, and carbon markets. FONAFIFO obtains funding through voluntary means as well, such as an arrangement with banks to issue debit cards that raise money for conservation and a carbon-offset program for individuals looking to offset their vehicle’s emissions. The private sector can also contribute to the fund in return for Environmental Services Certificates. These contributions are made by businesses and institutions that benefit from environmental services that forests provide, and di-

rectly subsidize forest landowners, while giving the donors a marketing tool in return. A win-win arrangement.

Ultimately, through their variety of approaches, which have built on one another over the decades and been adapted as necessary, Costa Rica has become the only tropical nation in the world to reverse deforestation. But success does not seem to be without caveats. Much of what I have described is written from the government’s point of view; ask a Costa Rican what they think about the forestry law, and you’ll probably get an earful – especially if they make their livelihood from the land, as roughly a fifth of the population does. Alex Retana, the owner of the Finca Kobo farm on the extremely biodiverse Osa Peninsula, has a strong opinion about the government’s approach to forest conservation:

“The regulation in Costa Rica is stupid, unbelievable, [and] crazy. This is a problem for development and new possibilities.”

Alex has been practicing agroforestry for two decades. On his farm he grows an abundance of cacao, vanilla, pineapple, bananas, and many types of tropical plants. He has acres of old-growth forest and to explore his property is to navigate a matrix of trees. We are sitting across from each other at a table made from imported Chilean wood, in the reception area where he welcomes guests for his famous chocolate tour and overnight stays.

He elaborates on his statement by telling me about a rule encoded in the forestry law that mandates no landowner can sell plants grown on their land unless these plants have regenerated three times since planting. He gives the example of a palm, which takes 15-18 years to mature enough to produce fruit. So by following the rules, you could potentially sell coconuts after 45 years.

“You’d be dead!” I joked.

“Exactly,” Alex said with a bemused smile.

In the meantime, coconuts imported from Africa are being sold in Costa Rican markets. To Alex, it doesn’t make any practical sense to hinder local small-scale production of goods in favor of those being brought in from abroad. These regulations are in place to protect the environment, to make sure it is never again over-exploited, and they are certainly laudable; but it is worth maintaining a critical eye in cases where these stringent regulations are themselves creating negative environmental externalities.

“Costa Rica imports wood worth 200 million dollars a year from Chile. We have forests, but we don’t have wood. It’s an interesting situation, contradictory.”

That wood must travel over 3000 miles, generating massive and unnecessary fossil fuel emissions. In Alex’s view, Costa Rica has the capacity to sustainably fulfill all of its own wood demands. He tells me about a type of cedar that

goes to waste if not used in some way.

“When this tree is twenty, twenty-two years old, the termites start to eat it. [If you don’t] cut [it], the termite eats it completely,” he said.

It seems that the life histories and ecological niches of Costa Rica’s plants are so diverse that a one-size-fits-all approach, with sweeping, heavy-handed regulations, may not be the optimal approach to forest management in the tropics.

Perhaps the traditional knowledge held by indigenous people and generations of Costa Rican farmers could inform forest management policies that allow the nation’s vast ecological wealth to be used by its people, not just viewed by tourists. As western conservation paradigms have shown, you cannot take humans completely out of the wilderness because we are inherently reliant on nature, and to a less accepted extent, nature relies on us, too. To suggest and act otherwise only causes more problems down the road. In Costa Rica’s case, it may be worth seeing if the nation can have its ecological cake and eat it too – provided it saves some for later

(Alex talks about his cacao to a group of tourists during a tour of his farm.)

Having an extensive forestry law means there will be law breakers. The Costa Rican government cites “illegal logging” as its most pressing issue. It is estimated that 25 to 35% of wood consumed comes from illegal sources, but the actual figure may be much higher. However, not all illegal wood is harvested in horribly unsustainable ways or perpetuated by greedy criminals; under the forestry law, peasants and indigenous communities utilizing a tree that has fallen naturally on their own land would be committing a crime. Since it is much easier to ignore the laws and go through with logging, there are now thousands of criminals in Costa Rica, each doing what they may have seen their neighbor doing, or just doing it out of necessity. As Alex puts it, “there is legal wood and then there is moral wood.” In this system of redundant laws which seem to benefit large-scale agriculture and plantation operations while overly regulating how small landowners can use their own trees, perhaps illegality loses its moral weight and becomes synonymous with survival.

Despite the rather authoritarian approach to protecting forests at all costs, the Costa Rican government did leave room for wood production in their forestry law. Through plantations and agroforestry projects, sub-categories within PES, wood is able to be produced for domestic consumption without harming existing forest ecosystems, since these projects can only be implemented on land that was already deforested before the ban. Farmers practicing agroforestry are exempt from the intensive permitting process around “harvesting, transportation, industrialization, or export,” according to Article 28 in the forestry law. In 2013, FONAFIFO increased the payments to landowners practicing agroforestry, in order to increase the production of domestic wood.

Agroforestry as a method of growing crops is certainly better for the environment than traditional agriculture and can go a long way to reduce erosion, retain nutrients, and provide habitat for local species. But the other category of reforestation - plantations - are less ecologically friendly. The most common tree grown on plantations in Costa Rica is teak (Tectona grandis). The government promoted the planting of teak in the reforestation efforts of the 1970s because it is a fast-growing tree. However, teak trees have wreaked havoc on their surrounding environment. Teak leaves contain the toxic compounds anthratectone and naphthotectone which suppress the growth of other plants on the forest floor when they decompose. As a result, teak forests are extremely species-poor ecosystems. It is apparent upon looking at any teak forest that no living creature dares to make their home there. Butterflies flit nervously through the skinny, straight trunks and leave as quickly as

they came, and no birds sing from the branches of the toxic trees. It is clear that a teak forest is the farthest thing from a thriving tropical forest, yet they still allow plantation owners to benefit from the government’s environmental subsidy programs.

Despite their pitfalls, the laws of Costa Rica have undoubtedly gone a long way to restore the nation’s lost forests and ensure their conservation into the future. Now, the question is: can this model be replicated elsewhere, perhaps even in the United States? Whether an environmental conservation paradigm can be implemented is entirely dependent on whether the people involved and impacted have the interest and mindset to see it through. In the United States in recent years, it has been very difficult to pass environmental legislation and in fact prioritize the environment over profit in any capacity, because of the extremely strong political resistance that has to be overcome. When examining the roots of this resistance, it often stems from individuals and corporations who make a living or profit off of natural resources and feel overly burdened by environmental regulations. In Costa Rica, there is less of a conceptualized trade-off between environmental utilization and protection, largely due to society-wide acceptance of nature’s worthiness of protection.

“All my life, I really liked the trees,” Alex told me when I asked him about the origins of his relationship with the land. His father owned a coffee plantation in the central pacific region, and Alex would spend his Saturdays helping his father tend to it.

“When I was 16 or 18 years old, I had a lot of discus-

(A teak plantation in Palo Seco, Puntarenas Province, Costa Rica. Photo Credit: Jack Kenney, UVM ‘26)

sions with my father, because I [wanted more trees in the Coffee Plantation]. But my father didn’t accept it. ”

Alex had different views from his father about integrating nature with agriculture, and he finally got the opportunity to implement these when he bought his own land in his twenties. His father helped him look for farmland, and they went from farm to farm for a couple months. Finally, Alex fell in love with a particular patch of land, and felt called to it – “for the ceibas,” Alex said, which are a particularly gigantic tree that Alex has felt an affinity towards since childhood. While Alex studied livestock production in college, what he loved the most were plants.

say that Costa Rica’s conservation success was born out of a different attitude towards nature, one that values it for its function as a whole rather than for its useful component parts.

When asked if he participates in the PES program to receive compensation for conserving the primary forest on his land, Alex expressed that he doesn’t think he needs the money because he makes enough through ecotourism. “I will not cut the forest,” he said, “I prefer that other people have the chance.”

If a particular attitude towards nature is what made Costa Rica’s conservation plan possible, then the element that went on to make it a veritable success is ecotourism. This is what has provided the single largest alternative income stream to Costa Ricans that have traditionally made their living from the land, and has taken the load off of the PES program in terms of financial support for rural farmers who want to maintain their forests. Alex himself was enrolled in a government program, the Certification for Sustainable Tourism, aimed at producing eco-tourism businesses in the late 90s. Costa Rica’s sustainable tourism model is exemplary and many countries have sent delegations to Costa Rica to learn about how to implement the model at home. The certification consists of tiers so that participants are always motivated to go even further with their sustainable practices to reach the highest level to use as a marketing tool. The CST program has received recognition from the Global Sustainable Tourism Council and the UN World Tourism Organization.

The incentive that sustainable tourism provides to preserve Costa Rica’s natural beauty, along with the PES program, has clearly succeeded tremendously in safeguarding the nation’s forests for future generations. It has even inspired the rest of the world to follow suit: from PES, the internationally utilized REDD+ program was conceived, a UNFCCC-adopted framework for reducing emissions from deforestation and forest degradation, which together produce more greenhouse gasses than the entire global transportation sector. As Costa Rica has long known, without developing tools to halt deforestation, regenerate forests, and manage local natural resources for local needs, climate stabilization goals will not be reached. H

(A massive ceiba tree in Corcovado National Park.)

“For me the most interesting thing is to make ecosystems. Because when you make ecosystems, you can make an extraordinary place,” he said.

For Alex, respect for nature is intrinsic to who he is. More than that, he feels as though he plays a role in nature, and has the competency to influence the way nature manifests on his farm to allow for mutual thriving. It is safe to

Art by Maggie Alberghini

On Thin Ice: Climate Change and the Future of Pandemics

By Lauren Manning

Over the last three years, many facets of life have been dramatically transformed by COVID-19. There has been a constant stream of information on mutations, vaccines, and the rising death toll. Classes have taken place over Zoom or with desks spread six feet apart, faces hidden behind surgical masks. Businesses have lost customers and been forced to shut down. There continue to be serious debates regarding masks and vaccines, arguments that have nearly torn the nation apart. Above all, the disastrous side effects and fatalities have been felt all over the world. The last thing anyone wants to hear is more bad news.

But what if it does not stop with COVID? What if there was a new virus lying in wait for the perfect opportunity, poised to take over nearly every aspect of our lives once more? This is something we may have to come to terms with as climate change creates conditions favorable to new viruses, which are actually old viruses revived after millennia of dormancy. Trapped under layer upon layer of ice that has accumulated over eons lie ancient microbes, including bacteria and viruses. Microorganisms such as these have the genetic ability to withstand freezing temperatures and survive for incredibly long periods.

Recently, scientists discovered viruses from samples taken out of the Tibetan Plateau in China. These viruses have been dated to be almost 15,000 years old. They are unlike anything humans have seen or experienced before, presumably uncovering an alternate evolutionary path that viruses have taken over the years. The discoveries do not stop there. A 30,000-year-old virus called Mollivirus sibericum was recently discovered and analyzed. Scientists concluded that this virus could still infect modern amoeba, despite its prehistoric age.

As climate change continues to unleash its wrath on Earth, its consequences could bring about snowballing catastrophic events. Take the melting of the ice caps, for example. Of course, there are the more well-known effects that this could have on the environment, including rising sea levels, flooding, destruction of habitats, and extreme fluctuations in weather patterns. However, it does not stop there. The melting glaciers may mobilize the dormant viruses they contain and expose them to hosts, which could

bring about even more destructive effects on humans, animals, and plants.

Viruses have already been known to reawaken from frozen slumbers in the past. Scientists discovered well-preserved smallpox and Spanish flu viruses from century-old frozen tissue samples. Around five years ago, frozen reindeer carcasses in Siberia that had been trapped in the ice for decades thawed out during an unusual heat wave. What followed was an outbreak of anthrax, which came from still-infectious anthrax spores. Not much is known about these viruses or any of the microbial life in and around the glaciers. Researchers are working to make some sense of them, as they belong to an ancient era that is hard to reach even using the best scientific tools available today. It is known, however, that once these viruses thaw, they must find a host in order to survive. Luckily, few people live around this area, so contact was limited.

While scientists want to start studying these viruses more in-depth, they fear potentially releasing the viruses in doing so. In November of 2019, researchers worldwide gathered in Hannover, Germany for a conference at which they discussed the potential threats and findings that lie beneath the permafrost (ground that remains frozen throughout the year). Dr. Vladimir Romanovsky, Professor of Geophysics at the University of Alaska Fairbanks, explained at the conference that permafrost is thawing more and more each year, revealing and reactivating the biological activity of ancient soils.

Dr. Jean Michel Claverie, a virologist at Aix-Marseille University, was also at the conference. He and Dr. Chantal Abergel work to isolate DNA viruses frozen around the Kolyma River in northeastern Siberia and inject them into amoeba as a safe way to determine whether the viruses are still effective. They have revived a few viruses from the ancient permafrost, but none as ancient as the 30,000-yearold Mollivirus sibiricum.

Claverie and Abergel emphasized that DNA viruses, such as smallpox, pose a greater threat than RNA viruses like the flu or COVID-19. RNA viruses are weaker and less stable than DNA viruses, so, according to Claverie, it is highly unlikely that they could be revived from prehistor-

ic permafrost. DNA viruses can live for a long time, even without a host, which is why Claverie and Abergel have been researching these specific viruses.

Dr. Brigitta Evengård, who put the conference together, has emphasized her fear of bacterial infections activating from the thawing permafrost. According to her, there is a low chance that these bacteria could be antibiotic-resistant, but not impossible. She believes the worst-case scenario could be a plague—such as the Bubonic Plague—if the bacteria are antibiotic-resistant. The possible pandemics that could emerge from the thawing permafrost are “Pandora’s box,” in Evengård’s words.

Fortunately, there is some good news. These viruses will not be an issue if we control the presence and spread of climate change and refrain from manipulating the arctic. However, large companies and even entire countries have started to exploit these areas by excavating large holes to extract natural gas, which could potentially expose these viruses.

In Russia, 80% of natural gas comes from the arctic. Drilling activity leaves the permafrost vulnerable, exposing regions that have remained frozen solid for centuries. Dr. Abergel noted that if one of these viable viruses came into direct contact with a human, it would be difficult to stop another epidemic or pandemic from occurring. Even though there is a small population of people near the poles, the retreat of arctic glaciers may feed back into the issue by inviting more human encroachment and increasing the probability of contact.

Ultimately, all of these issues are something that we must bear in mind and strive to learn more about in the future. The only line of defense we have against the threat of these mysterious viruses is the employment of science to understand how they may interact with living organisms before physical contact occurs. It is a race against time, but at least we have all been prepared and understand what is at stake if we ignore the power of nature. H

Art by Lauren Manning

The Yew Tree

By Colby Fong

are based on place and heritage.

My story begins in the midst of a global pandemic. I am wandering through my grandfather’s backyard, feeling con fused and dazed as everything spins around me. The yard is colored with fall weather and gray skies that permeate deep into the walls of the world. When I am feeling existential like this, I like to wander. This time, I am wandering within the bounds of the backyard fence. This is a place that feels familiar yet unfamiliar at the same time, because years have gone by since I last wandered back here. The grass sparsely pokes through the fall mud, and the flower beds lay idle with weeds, withered and browning while laying flat out the edges of the beds. Among the crumbling rock walls is a bathtub and old cracked bamboo stakes littered about. The garden is unkept and unruly, but not in a beautiful way. It reminds me that my grandfather, the man who created this place, has been gone for nearly a decade.

I remember spending spring days here when I was just a child, sitting behind my grandmother as she poked around in the garden running along the fence. She made some smart remarks, I’m sure, and pulled the tops off of scallions so we could cook with them inside. The backyard was

to truly know my grandfather? I was just 12, barely alert to the facts of adult life, when he passed away.

My foot catches on a half-unearthed piece of concrete and I nearly trip. I look back down, lost in my thoughts. What was a very quiet dry-cleaning grandfather to a boy who barely knew him? What would he think of who I was?

I suppose we could both be silent and introspective at times, but this answer felt incomplete, and still, I had more questions.

What would he think of his tree-studying grandson who, steeped in the world of academia, would seem so distant and purposeless to an immigrant whose first concern was keeping a roof and food for his family?

I thought more deeply—about what my father had told me of when he and my mother hiked the Appalachian Trail—to try to understand what my grandfather might think of me. They had decided to hike the trail after getting started in their careers, a choice that may have set them back a few years in experience and pay. My father tells me that my grandfather didn’t understand why they wanted to walk across the country with nothing but the possessions on their back. This was an experience too familiar to him to be enjoyable. Maybe he wouldn’t understand me and the work I do as a student trying to understand the natural world.

For a brief moment, I typified my own grandfather into being mostly unconcerned with the natural world. By the time I truly remembered him, he was tired and wanted to sit inside watching football.

My shoes squelch in a distinctly deep patch of mud I look up and there he is. Standing in the body of an Asian Yew Tree as if he was waiting to answer my question. I, being a student of forestry, knew his name.

So I asked, “what do you think of me, your tree-study-

ing grandson? Do you understand who I am?”

And his answer was a resounding “yes.”

My grandfather planted this tree, this yew that is not native to the Northeast. It is an immigrant to this country, much like my grandfather, probably coming over the ocean on a boat to Ellis Island or some other port. He planted this tree to send his roots down into this foreign soil. To bring a little bit of home here. How different could it be? The soil was made of the same parts, the winds just as temperate and cold. The rain is no different than the rain at home nor the sun. So, the tree grew tall and beautiful.

The tree knew who I was. He knew who I was. I was the one confused.

My Grandfather steeped my father’s perspective about the world like oolong tea in my grandmother’s kettle. A water of natural connection. My father was raised in these gardens, back when they were covered in a shade of growing, golden light. Although my father did not grow gardens as beautiful as this one in my childhood. He took me up mountains and brought me down bike paths. He chose a wooded lot for our family, and as a result, I grew up to study ecology and forests, to learn the names of our plants, and to reconnect with this natural world and the beings that call it home. Everything came full circle for me to meet my grandfather again, in the form of an Asian Yew Tree.

I’m sure my grandfather knew the names of the trees and plants when he was a boy growing up in China, and in a different tongue, I was reclaiming that type of knowledge. My other focus of study is agroecology which sounds like some cultivated westernized science, but truly it was my grandfather’s garden: a piecing together of resourceful uses for things he had available to him. He would understand that part of my learning as well.

Cultivated within me is the same sense of environmental resourcefulness, something that seems to have mostly skipped my father and gone directly to me. Often, my father will say things like, “you are so odd in what you know…you are resourceful in what you make of what you were given…you have a wisdom of things that I cannot see….” Occasionally he will ask me for advice, and in his eyes, he isn’t just asking me. In me, I know he sees his own father. He is asking the man who was gone a decade ago, but a part of him born again into his own son. He aches to ask his father these questions, so he asks me, the closest thing he has.

This is cultural knowledge:

Ideas that pass through generations, ideas and trains of thought that can skip generations and reappear. It is not necessarily the details that matter, but the way you were steeped. What waters of knowledge were you steeped in?

When I think about how we will solve crises in the natural world and my part in that, I know I will dig deep into who I am and what I have been taught, because the answers for what I should do and how I should act will be found there. They will be found with the knowledge from generations past—knowledge that many others possess, in thousands of different forms—knowledge that will be pivotal to save the place we call home. With our collective knowledge, we possess the ability to rebuild our collective garden to rebuild our collective earth.

When I think about my purpose in spreading these ideas, I think about my Chinese name which is “friend to the village.” I see it as my duty to make changes for my village and to lead by example. I want to waste less and be more resourceful, I want to cultivate gardens that sustain, and I want to steward forests. Most importantly, I want to lean into my namesake, and help others find their way to help our collective garden be a more beautiful place.

It is tradition that grandparents give the cultural name in my family. I am proud that my grandparents knew me so well, for in my name they speak for us all, and they speak for me. Let us all be friends to our village and friends to our garden.

Thanks, Mom and Dad, for leaving me outside as a kid to learn about this beautiful place we call home. Thanks, Ma Ma and Ye Ye, for teaching us all so well. H

Art by Maya Kagan

Environmentalism and Satire

By Cedulie Benoit-Smith

I have spent the better part of my secondary and higher education worrying that my two passions, climate and humor, are completely incompatible. This piece will explore the possibility of an intersection between environmentalism and satire, which, for brevity, I will refer to as “green satire.” My worry is that the seriousness of climate change coupled with the lightheartedness of satire would ultimately break even at zero: not funny, and not helpful. So, I began my research for this piece with Mark Usher, professor of Geography and Classics at UVM. He reminded me first that most satirists are, in fact, serious people. Especially in the era of Trump, satirists were making fun of him due to genuine discontent with his policies, past, and personality. To this end, green satire could come from satirists with genuine discontent with the climate crisis. But, finding people with the motivation to write or produce green satire is only a scratch on the surface. Green satirists must consider: When can we begin, what is the point, and what rules must we follow?

Is it too soon?

Is climate change still too fresh to joke about? What if writing jokes about climate change delegitimizes the issue, or worse, pushes people who are on the fence about climate change (namely those who have not had access to an accurate climate education) to back away from the issue altogether? Professor Usher stopped me here with the assertion, “nothing is sacrosanct.” This idea makes me squirm a bit, but he told me about one of the most successful satires of all time, a South Park episode released just weeks after 9/11. The episode addressed American life after the attacks and the American invasion of Afghanistan, and it ultimately received an Emmy nomination. This example suggests that even the most taboo of topics can be joked about, but what about the fundamental timeline of these jokes? The events of 9/11 happened for one day, with a foreseeable end in sight to the terror. Climate change, however, is never-ending. Is it different to make jokes about a tragedy that is still actively happening? Climate change is an omnipresent issue in modern politics, but so is war. Perhaps it depends on how far you zoom out. Climate change and the dawn of the Anthropocene are more than a period of modern war. War can be stopped when elites call for it to stop, while climate change is a rolling ball that we can only really get out of the way of. Should we make jokes about things profoundly out of our control? How big of a difference even is there between climate change and war? Both are controlled by agents that average people are so far removed from that perhaps they may as well be one and

the same. That’s why satire is so invaluable. Satire serves as a weapon against a force we cannot otherwise reckon with. Can satire be used as an agent of change?

Short answer: it’s complicated. No matter how hard you look, you will never find a piece of satire that can be directly attributed to political change. “Change” can mean many things, however. Professor Usher and I started our conversation by deciding what the point of green satire should be. Are we trying to change people’s minds? Impossible. The people whose minds need changing are the people we are satirizing. Are we trying to influence policy? Nope. There are plenty of climate-conscious lobbyists who don’t need our help. So, why do it? Reprieve. As Professors Singer and Gini from Loyola University of Chicago put it in their book The Sanity of Satire, “Joke telling and satire are, at the very least, a pleasant distraction…Jokes may not provide definitive answers, but they can alleviate some of our fears, afford comfort and distraction, and perhaps, just perhaps, offer us some perspective, some illumination in regard to these fundamentally irresolvable and yet unavoidable issues.”

Green satire can be cathartic! And yet catharsis and release from the eco-anxiety are not the only functions of humor. In 1999, Ted Cohen wrote, “joking about a deep or dangerous topic is a way of talking about it, examining it in a way that doesn’t scare us.” Just talking about climate change is in itself an act of environmentalism. Research by Ballew et al. in 2019 reported that only 36% of households in 2017 were discussing climate change. They go on to explain that because people are not talking to friends and family about climate change, they begin to grossly underestimate how many other people are concerned about it. They dub this the “spiral of silence” and go on to assert, “Ultimately, [this] impedes public engagement because interpersonal interaction and awareness of social consensus are instrumental to public recognition and collective action.” All this is to say, perhaps if people felt more comfortable talking about climate change at home, they would feel more comfortable demanding action from elites.

Additionally, green satire is accessible. Anyone can write or consume green satire, while not every person can afford green lifestyle changes. A stellar example of accessible green satire is Adam McKay’s Don’t Look Up. The movie was released by Netflix on December 24th 2021, just in time for college kids like myself to come home and watch it with their families. The movie features big names like Leonardo DiCaprio, Jennifer Lawrence, Meryl Streep, and the list goes on. The film is a green satire making fun of the United States’ response to a scientifically proven, in-coming

asteroid, a metaphor for climate change. There are many critiques to be made here. NPR’s political correspondent Danielle Kurtzleben complains, “It’s like it’s trying to satirize an entire country. And when you’re trying to jab at everyone, you will land satisfying hits on absolutely no one. And what ends up happening—all the jokes come off as lazy. Like the messages that come out of this film are, did you know the media’s not paying enough attention to climate change and pays too much attention to celebrity news? Did you know that social media makes us all more shallow?” When I first watched the movie I found it unsatisfying how clear the metaphors were, a little insulted even. Perhaps McKay cast too large a net. But, McKay created a movie with enough famous actors that 111 million families chose to watch it together. McKay brought the climate conversation into 111 million households in a palatable way, started 111 million climate change conversations, and helped strike the first blow to weaken the climate spiral of silence.

Which way does green satire punch?

Climate change is perhaps the most multi-faceted issue facing humanity today. A changing climate affects every domain of life, and for that very reason, we should see a marriage between climate change and humor. The United Nations’ Sustainable Development Goals highlight an array of complicated issues as pieces to the climate change puzzle, including but not limited to poverty, hunger, health, well-being, education, and gender equality. To name this crisis in just two words does a disservice to it. As seen in the , if green satirists simply make “climate change,” little point be made. Additionally, green satirists need to be careful with the net they cast, because the issues they deal with are so nuanced and multifacetAt some point in every satirist’s career,

they will hear the “punch up” mantra. In short, punching up is the idea that good jokes are made only at the expense of people or things in positions of power. Power can have many meanings—political, social, and physical. If you are making jokes about people who are below you, you’re not funny, you’re just mean. It’s important that the jokes you make as a green satirist are targeting the actual person in power, not those with the facsimile of responsibility. To the same extent, it is my personal belief that environmental radicalism must directly affect those in power, not those made to do their bidding. I believe it is morally unjust to put spikes in trees that will explode when hit by a chainsaw. The person operating that chainsaw did not elect to cut down that tree. Rather, they were instructed by a person up the line who has decided that the land the trees are on would be better used for a shopping center. The responsibility lies in the hands of the landowners, businessmen, etc. who are fully aware of the environmental impacts of their actions and do them anyway. This is not to say that green satire and environmental terrorism are one and the same. Instead, they are extreme examples of the effects of misplaced responsibility for agents of climate change. The man with the chainsaw is just trying to feed his family the same way the green satirist is. That might be punching sideways, but what’s the point? It’s not cathartic to make fun of the little guy. You’re not spurring thoughtful conversation about the role of elites in the climate crisis by making fun of the little guy. By making fun of the little guy, you’re making the climate conversation even more inaccessible to an already wary world.

Conclusion

As 2022 comes to a close, the world continues to grapple with a festering wound left unattended—the climate crisis. Elites continue to downplay and contribute to the crises we see across the globe, but green satire can serve as a weapon of the common people. Whether we turn to green satire as a channel for anger, a tool of change, or the topic of an essay in the Fall Edition of Headwaters magazine, we are all taking part in something never done before. The necessity for green satire, a form of comedy with no historical precedent, proves the uniqueness of the climate crisis. Our generation and the ones to follow are grappling with a world facing a dilemma without historical precedent, and as a result, we are turning to forms of expression that are equally unexplored. In this way, the unknown future does not have to be a frightening one. We are entering a new era of arts and sciences, one brought on by a global crisis, but one that will produce so many incredible works, the likes of which we have never seen. So, here’s to green satire: a greener future, and a funnier one. Do what you need to get through it, and remember, Do Punch Up. H

Art by Ella Weatherington

“Jamie?”

A knock on the door and the rattling of the doorknob steals my attention from the bathroom sink where I rest my head.

I pull my neck up, still in a trance-like state, my eyes glossy and face flushed red. I could hear the music outside, muffled by the peeling, tan painted door.

“Hey Jamie, you in there?”

Ow.

I didn’t know how long I had been standing there, but the lack of sweat suggested that it had taken a good amount of time for someone to come and check on me.

The countertop grabs my attention— the half rolled toothpaste and copious amounts of crumpled paper towels that sat shoved to the side.

Does anyone ever clean in here?

I become aware of how small the room is and how much it smells overwhelmingly like aftershave. Crumpling my nose, I open the door to see my friend Rowen’s face. She’s on her phone, the screen light illuminating the leftover streaks of makeup on her cheeks; the blue sparkles that are scattered on her face match the barrettes in her hair.

“Everything okay?” Rowen asks me.

I’m not quite sure.

“I think I just need some fresh air.”

“Ok, just text me if you need anything.” She walks away, leaving me stranded in the bathroom doorway. I run my fingers through my hair and begin walking towards the front door, pushing through the swarming bodies of people, each covered in their own scent of alcohol and sweat.

“I like your jeans!” a girl I don’t know calls out to me. They were bell bottoms with red, hand-painted hearts on the pockets.

“Thanks, they were thrifted,” I say for what was probably the fifth time this night.

I wonder if I would get fewer compliments if they were from H&M. But I was much happier buying second hand, recently frustrated that big corporations have been lying about how sustainable they are.

I find the door and push it open with little force, my rings glinting under the porch light, and walk down the stairs of the house. On the side of a curb I sit down, pressing my knees against my chest as the holes in my jeans let the cold air in.

Why did I wear these pants?

The city would be quiet if not for the thumping of the party and the various people scattered along the road. I feel my arms being invaded by goose bumps as every breath I take is followed by a sniffle. I shudder, remembering the exact spot where I left my coat and regret not grabbing it. The black halter top I wore did nothing for me, the shitty $5 material making it feel like a napkin against my skin, but I liked how confident I felt in it.

But then again, that was the sacrifice, wasn’t it? Sometimes my goal was to look good, not save the world.

I knew the consequence of buying that top. I knew the website was unethical, but I couldn’t afford a $45 sustainably-made top, no matter how much I wish I could.

But why did I have to buy that top? It’s not like it was my goddamn fault anyways. My individual actions seemed hopeless in the face of the massive quantities of greenhouse gas emissions from large corporations across the world.

My eyes focused on the two trash cans that sat on the opposite side of the street, filled to the brim with red solo cups and beer bottles, some spilling onto the sidewalk. I thought about my dorm room, the way the trashcan by my desk always seemed to look the same way as these cans did now. I wasn’t necessarily a messy person,

but at the same time, my dorm never seemed to be clean— the ramen wrappers and empty packs of gum seemed to be omnipresent, followed by the box of tampons, and the Friday night White Claws that somehow were always room

“You can’t be Greta Thunberg all the time,” Rowen once said to me, knowing how bothered I felt when the trash filled to the brim.

“You’re a college student living in a dorm that’s smaller than your bedroom at home. Give yourself a break.”

I know she’s right, but it still feels wrong. My consumerism only intensified once I got to college. At home, it was easy to deal with, but now from the basic necessities to trying to save money, it felt impossible to make eco-conscious decisions.

Between the alcohol and the lack of sleep, I feel my mind start to race. The familiar guilt crawls up my spine as I stare at the waste in front of me. I pull out my phone in the hope that I will be distracted.

“15 years left.”

If I don’t always care - who else will?

It seemed like there wasn’t a time when I didn’t feel the weight of the burning world on my shoulders.

“10 years left.”

Every effort I make seems to be replaced by some other issue; Use a reusable cup—what about the bottles your skin care comes in? Buy reusable face pads—okay, great, but what are you going to do about all of your tampons? Constantly having to care seemed like the curse of my gen-

eration.

It felt like it was never enough.

“5 years left.”

The light of my phone flashes on my face as I keep on scrolling, but no post is better than the last.

“There is No Planet B.”

More scrolling,

“The Amazon is burning.”

Scrolling, scrolling

“We are in the sixth mass extinction.”

Time’s up.

I quickly turn off my phone and look up to the sky, clutching my chest as I try to find my breath.

“Breathe,” I tell myself, “Just breathe.”

In and out, In and out, In and out.

I stare up at the black sky, noticing the stars speckled across the night sky, each of them shining bright on their own against the clouds that hovered over. My mind slows down and serenity washes over me. Sometimes moments become too overwhelming, sometimes my actions feel useless, but I look up and gather myself: a reminder that I am only human. H

Art by Casey Benderoth

Fragile Utopia

By Lindsey Papasian

Upon thinking about the theme of fragility the first thing that came to mind was the current state of our ecosystems and the species within them. Biodiversity loss is a tremendous threat to local and global ecosystems. This piece is a tribute to some of the threatened species of Vermont, every plant depicted in the landscape is currently threatened or endangered. Some of the plants illustrated are Jack Pine, Arethusa, Flowering Dogwood, Wild Senna and more. I wanted to portray a Utopia of biodiversity where each of these species are thriving and coexisting. I’d like to create a sense of hope with this piece. H

Have you ever stopped To notice how Heavily you tread water, How your steps Send minnows into frenzy, How your shadows Invite attack from the Green crabs At your feet? These days, My brain sits Unnatural in my soft skull. I learned the word Anthropocene And now it won’t stop spilling From my mouth. In a dream, I see gills And razor clams. I wake, And my teeth are Just as dull As before.

There are lobster traps On the beach. When I touch them, A thousand little corpses Fall out. H

theory of evolution

By Ava Fusco

Contemplating

By Jamie Cull-Host

Bleak and gray, the sky sits content above snow covered landscapes

The wind whipping it’s way across the frozen ground Grabbing the stray flakes, it flings them into a fast waltz Blustering, it blows quickly through the snow laden trees

Until seemingly vanishing into nothing in an instant

A man stands waiting patiently despite the frigidity of his setting His numbed fingers warming on a cup of steaming coffee

He has no destination, his objective is simply to contemplate

The snow came late this year, even later than it did last year

How many more years until the snow stops, and the wind loses it’s dance partner H

phenology

By Teresa Helms

Be happy when your friend hears a bird that they have never heard before and when you notice, for the first time in the twenty years of your life, that the trees are leafing out after the longest winter you can remember. These are magnificent things.

When you understand for the first time that the world goes on, goes on relentlessly and that you too, then, must go on. It will not leave you behind. H

Art by Maya Kagan

Other Beings Live Here Too! An Exploration of Responsible Outdoor Recreation

By East Underwood

Whether it be a walk in the woods, a swim in a local lake, or perhaps a run down your favorite ski trail, interaction with nature is a fundamental component of life for many in the United States. So much so, in fact, that we are often oblivious to the impacts of our recreation on the surrounding environment. The impacts of ski lifts, mountain bike paths, and hiking trails all remain somewhat unnoticed. Have you ever considered how these fixtures of human recreation coexist with—or perhaps impede upon— natural phenomena? In the past few decades, there have been immense increases in the attendance of outdoor recreation spaces worldwide. High volumes of traffic display nature’s limited ability to withstand impeding human presence without consequence. If humanity continues to seek entertainment from recreational spaces, we must decide as a society to be conscious of our impacts during our time spent outdoors.

In 2020, recreation in the United States and across the globe hit an all-time low. During the height of the pandemic, participation in activities that seemed mundane suddenly posed great risks to human health. As societies begin to emerge from lockdown regulations, National Parks and other public outdoor spaces are suddenly seeing unprecedented attendance numbers. Recently, parks such as Yellowstone and Yosemite have been forced to turn away visitors in peak season due to a lack of available parking. What kind of impact does this constant flow of people have on the non-human species that dwell within these parks? According to the National Park Service, interactions with humans can have serious implications for wildlife health. Their website states that “there are many examples of wildlife in parks dying from diseases given to them by pets and humans.” Large inflows of people transport human-borne illnesses that put native species at risk.

Many similar concerns have been raised as issues with unpredictability and a lack of control over visitors rise.

Visitors have been known to take things from parks, wander off trails, leave trash, and commit other offenses that cannot be easily monitored. Pinecones may seem like great souvenirs, but they are a key food source for critters like squirrels and vital for tree reproduction. Leaving things that do not belong within parks is just as impactful to species’ survival as removing them. Trash and wrappers can easily be confused as food, putting animals in danger of choking or poisoning. Food remnants also put other visitors in danger. Bears can smell leftover food from miles away, putting campers in danger.

In Lamar Valley of Yellowstone National Park, journalists from the Guardian observed that “a pack of wolves just visible in the distance drew a swarm of vehicles.” This type of crowding not only endangers species such as wolves, but also places ignorant tourists in danger. There are still many questions about how effects like these can be minimized while still allowing everyone to enjoy their time outside.

Dave Kaufman, a Parks, Recreation, and Tourism Senior Lecturer at The University of Vermont, has some nuanced perspectives on environmental grievances. With over 30 years of experience in the Vermont tourism industry, Kaufman is an expert on human relations to the environment. He feels the misuse of recreational resources is due to a lack of environmental understanding and is a significant issue in the tourism industry. Hiking trails are accessible to the public, but even though you can place an informative sign to educate hikers, you cannot guarantee they will read or follow it.

When one considers participating in outdoor activities, climate implications cannot be ignored. Anthropogenic climate change is an issue that plagues the environment and challenges humans’ ability to sustain their way of life. The impacts of human action are already evident in recreational sports, especially in the state of Vermont. Shorter ski seasons and less-than-ideal conditions are issues that

jeopardy of the ski industry’s future, Kaufman is not at all concerned with the future of recreation. When prompted about the human ability to recreate due to a warming planet, he states, “[people] are always adapting and a shorter ski season will just create an extended mountain bike season.”

Although Kaufman is optimistic regarding the future adaptability of human recreation, he says that considerable changes must be made to the way that humans interact with the environment if we are to sustain existing resourc pact recreation are sloganed as attempts at “eco-tourism.” How does one become an eco-tourist? Well, there are many

brought outdoors.

Another seemingly simple but incredibly vital practice is to follow given markings and trail signs in any area. These signs are in place for a reason, and by obeying their guidelines you can protect the complex ecosystems that surround these destinations. Additionally, most individ-

timent of “leave no trace,” which pertains to carrying out equipment, trash, and anything else that might have been

uals opt to take their automobiles to any given location due to convenience. Next time you partake in recreational outdoor activities, consider utilizing public transportation, biking, or walking.

The final piece of easily adoptable advice when participating in outdoor activities is to consider the time at which you choose to do so. Going at an irregular hour and avoiding mid-day crowds could provide you and the creatures that reside there with a far more enjoyable experience and lower volumes of pedestrian traffic. The variety of actions that individuals can take to reduce their negative impact is limitless; even the smallest considerations can contribute to positive results. Outdoor recreation is a gift and privilege many people in the United States take for granted. In order to continue enjoying the wonders that natural resources provide, we must make efforts to deserve them. H

The Family Line

By Loden Croll

The Three Sisters To corn: Sister, sister, tall and fair Will you reach the top shelf of the sky For me? Will you go ahead and Scout the way for me?

To beans: Sister, sister, middle child

Will you be brave and accomplish all I was Resigned to grow towards Will you bend and sing into the wind For me?

To squash: Sister, sister, smallest and laughing, Will you ground my winding spirit For me?

Will you tell me to hang on and giggle with you When it gets cold?

To my mother and all her children: Sister, mother, creator, nurturer, will you plant us in the ground and Be the catalyst of our grueling journey of adolescence

If this village is the one to raise us in the dark, then they are the ones We shall feed come light little runaway child yellow-lined desert roads concrete river, bring me home impervious to the sensitivities of her sisters, father, mother, their tears roll off her back like duck feathers into the swollen currents, a river mimic, shadow twin, swallowing her shining elixir and choking on the gold

Art by Ellie Yatco

Father weeping

It is over and it begins and So on

The clouds cry and run off for

Someone to care enough to go find them

For why not drink the life

Water of your brother’s tears

If they were sacred

If the lake turned over on its belly and Changed the whole world over for you

How come you refuse to do the same for it

No wonder father sky cries for us

Mother Earth

Caregiver, taker, lover, maker

In my mind, I have a home among the pines

Where two kids fall out of trees into the deep snow

Hailing the winter sun as god in every intrepid pursuit

Talking story of lush ferns in the summertime (itchweed)

And the pleasantries to which the birds would lately return (sweltering Julys)

My legs scratched and stiff, a time traveler whose bones become more Breakable in the heat

As if our mother did not forge us in fire

Brother walking

Someone told me a story once about footprints in the sand

And I saw a little girl swinging wayside

Grounded by her brother’s hand

As they made their meandering way down the beach

A sandpiper with a plastic belly, scampering to and fro

Searching for food, or for a purpose

Which walkers did not know

But felt the waves pull it from just beyond their reach

Bearing the weight of the future on their shoulders

One brother walking, and a sister reaching for the sky, praying to never get older

Sun dripping down their backs like fool’s gold, armor none could breach

If you no longer see them walking on the shore Down the shell of the great planet’s ear, blue They are carried in the arms of the sea, forevermore Take care of the world, and it will take care of you. H