Greenversations

Each week we write about the science behind environmental protection. More Science Wednesdays.

About the author: Aaron Ferster is the lead science writer-editor for EPA’s Office of Research and Development. Previously, he has worked as an exhibit writer for a zoo, a first-mate on a whale watch boat, an elephant trainer, and as a stage hand for a travelling magic show.

I have a close friend who is a talented fiction writer. Occasionally, we good-naturedly give one another a hard time about our chosen crafts. “You get to make stuff up—how can anything be easier than that?” is my rhetorical reply whenever she points out what a painless gig I have as a science writer at EPA.

While I can’t speak for other science writers, I might just have to admit that what I do is easier than creating fiction. There never seems to be a shortage of fascinating stories unfolding at labs and field sites wherever researchers or engineers are running experiments, gathering data, or building the next prototype. And I’ve got the added benefit that my personal interests—the environment and human health—dovetail perfectly with EPA’s mission.

Come to think of it, I might be kind of spoiled.

I’m not the only one who has noticed there are a lot of good science stories being generated at EPA. If you’ve followed “Greenversations,” you’ve probably noticed the strong current of science that runs through many of the posts. Regular contributors include Robert Lackey, a senior EPA scientist who writes often about salmon restoration from EPA’s Western Ecology Division lab in Corvallis, OR; and Sandy Raimondo, a research ecologist from EPA’s Gulf Ecology Division lab in Gulf Breeze, FL who recently wrote about environmental research and sailing.

It’s a trend. The wealth of good science stories here at EPA has led me and my fellow Greenversations bloggers to declare that Wednesday posts will now be for science. “Science Wednesday” will feature experiences related to environmental science, brought to you by scientists, engineers, researchers, and perhaps the occasional science writer from across EPA.

Future posts will include entries on a long-term study on urban stream restoration, EPA’s ecological research programs, investigations on suburban runoff and the impact of pavement and parking lots, coral reef monitoring, research on the state of the marine environment, and many, many others on environmental science.

“Science Wednesday,” because you really can’t make this stuff up.

About the author: Dr. Robert Lackey is a senior scientist in EPA’s Office of Research and Development’s laboratory in Corvallis, Oregon. He has been involved professionally with West Coast salmon issues for 44 years and was awarded EPA’s highest award, the Gold Medal, for his salmon work.

One of my favorite fictional characters is detective extraordinaire Joe Friday. Joe demanded and provided “just the facts” as he sleuthed his way through the gossip and hearsay to winnow out the truth. Scientists responsible for informing the public and policy makers about ecological policy issues should attempt to do the same — just the facts — the straightforward, sometimes unpleasant realities.

A case in point: The 2008 collapse of salmon runs along the West Coast is being chronicled in major national newspapers, with headlines proclaiming “Disaster Strikes West Coast Fishermen,” “Worst Salmon Runs in History,” and “Agencies Baffled by Unexpected Salmon Collapse.”

Let’s apply Joe Friday’s “just the facts” approach to the wild salmon situation to see what society might expect in the future.

Fact 1: Wild salmon in California, Oregon, Washington, Idaho, and southern British Columbia are in serious trouble. Most runs in the Western U.S. are at less than 10% of their pre-1850 levels. Over two dozen are listed as threatened or endangered, with many more likely to follow unless something changes.

Fact 2: Meager salmon runs along the West Coast are nothing new. The decline in wild salmon numbers (PDF) started with the California gold rush in 1848; causes include water pollution, habitat loss, over-fishing, dams, irrigation projects, predation, and competition with hatchery-produced salmon and non-native fish species.

Fact 3: If society wishes to change the future for wild salmon, something must be done about the unrelenting growth in the human population level along the West Coast (California, Oregon, Washington, Idaho, and British Columbia). By 2100, there could be 200 - 250 million people in the region: a quadrupling by the end of this century — barely 90 years from now.

Fact 4: If the human population levels increase as expected, options for restoring salmon runs to significant, sustainable levels are greatly limited. Consider the demand for houses, schools, stadiums (PDF), expressways, automobiles, malls, air conditioning, drinking water, consumer goods, golf courses, and sewer treatment plants. Society’s options for sustaining wild salmon in significant numbers would be just about non-existent.

Whatever policy makers propose to do about the 2008 collapse of West Coast salmon runs, these four facts cannot be ignored. Policy makers should demand from scientists realistic and honest assessments (PDF) of the current and future conditions for salmon.

Joe Friday was a tough, no-nonsense professional. Those of us who provide the public and policy makers with the best available information about salmon ought to follow his lead: “just the facts”.

About the author: Sandy Raimondo is a research ecologist with the Office of Research and Development in Gulf Breeze, FL. She joined EPA in 2003 and models potential effects of toxicants on organisms and populations.

A few months ago I joined a crew on a sailboat that competes in the local yacht club races. I’ve never been a huge water person, much more of a mountaineer than a sailor, but since I live on the Gulf coast I decided to harness the side of nature that’s in my backyard rather than dwell on what wasn’t. Since moving here I’ve given sea kayaking a whirl and tried to learn how to surf, but sailing definitely suits me better – I don’t eat sand nearly as much as I did trying to surf, and my body thanks me for it. But it’s also the invigoration that goes along with a boat keeled on its side, cutting through the water, powered by something that you can’t see. Or maybe it’s the Jimmy Buffet.

Anyway, sometimes I think environmental research is a lot like sailing. Not in the sense that it’s a breeze, or that you sit in your little vessel and let something else push you a long, although sometimes you actually do get to move downwind and head straight toward your goal. But much more often you have to tack back and forth against the wind, constantly changing directions to get to your eventual finish. But since the finish is a buoy, it’s not really concretely fastened. These days, new environmental challenges blow in before we can address the ones that popped up last year. Its one of those things that might be frustrating if all you want to do is sail downwind. But if you like the adrenaline rush of hanging off the side of the boat to keep yourself level while your direction and speed are determined by which way the wind is blowing, then environmental research is a good place to be.

About the author: Jeffery Robichaud is a second generation scientist with EPA who started in 1998. He serves as Chief of the Environmental Assessment and Monitoring Branch in Kansas City.

Ever heard of a guy named Lew Zealand? He was the Muppet that threw boomerang fish (I expect a cut of your winnings if you ever go on Jeopardy and this bit of trivia pays off). I thought of Lew because it is field season again and on the Missouri River we have our own airborne fish. They are Asian Carp, a particularly troubling invasive species that have infested waters and pose a potentially devastating effect to the Great Lakes. They were introduced into the catfish aquaculture business in the 1970s but during floods these “prisoners” escaped their ponds into the Mississippi River, and have been on the run ever since. YouTube has a lot of great videos of them in action.

In Region 7 we administer our Regional Ambient Fish Tissue (RAFT) program where samples are analyzed for contaminants such as mercury, pesticides, and PCBs. States use the data to post fish advisories. Our biologists (including Lorenzo pictured here) end up with nets full of carp because they often are the most abundant fish in the Missouri River. If you talk to some of the old timers fishing along the banks they will tell you the odd-looking paddlefish were more abundant in years past. Paddlefish face many challenges from human-induced changes to the river such as dams, loss of habitat due to channel straightening, and illegal harvest of eggs for use as caviar. Now they count flying fish as enemies since the more abundant carp out-compete the paddlefish for food.

As comical as the spectacle of jumping fish may be, invasive species are a serious threat. A plant may look pretty and an animal may seem cute, yet they may wreak devastating damage when introduced into a non-native setting. In 1884 a single Australian released twenty-four European rabbits on his property for hunting purposes. Within ten years those 24 had turned into over 2 million, and started the delicate ecology of Australia into a downward spiral causing hundreds of millions of dollars of damage each year and bringing a $30,000 fine for anyone found harboring their own long-eared friend as a pet. For those outdoor enthusiasts among you, consider scanning your State Conservation Department’s website before you head out on vacation this summer. Find out what you can do to make sure you don’t unknowingly take home a hidden hitchhiker.

About the author: Kelly Leovic has been with EPA in Research Triangle Park, NC since 1987 and has served as the Project Officer for the Research Apprenticeship Program since 1996.

June 11 was my second favorite day of work during the summer. Eight high school seniors arrive on campus at 7:40 a.m. to begin their 6 week internships. The students are excited, yet quiet and polite, and I get the sense that this is going to be a great group.

The students are in their 4th and final year of the Research Apprenticeship Program, a cooperative training agreement between EPA’s Office of Research and Development and Shaw University, a Historically Black University in Raleigh. The Program began in 1990 to encourage high school students to pursue advanced degrees in environmental science. During the first 3 years, students take classes at Shaw, and the summer before their senior year, they intern at EPA.

I begin by explaining that they will learn a new language this summer called “Acronym Soup” and not to be intimidated. “Nicolle, you’ll be working in ORD in NHEERL’s ECD and, if you look across the lake, you can see NIH’s NIEHS. Caitlin will be in OAQPS which is part of OAR.”

It is a smart group of kids but, because they are teenagers, we review the program guidelines and dress code, i.e., EPA is a workplace, not a nightclub. Conveniently, cell phone use isn’t an issue because we don’t get reception inside. Next, it is time for safety training. Only a few labs on campus allow high school students, so it is important that they know the rules.

My coworker Suzanne then takes the students for ID badges. They always enjoy this part and, when the program ends, are usually bummed that they have to return their EPA badges. The students relax during lunch and genuinely seem to enjoy each other’s company. Being a mom myself, I try and strike a balance between giving them free time to “chill” and learning a bit more about them individually, such as where they would like to go to college. Finally, their mentors arrive, we make the introductions, and then send them off for a 6-week science adventure.

In case you were wondering…my favorite day of work will be July 18, when the students present their summer projects to an audience of nearly 100, including mentors, co-workers, family, and friends.

About the author: Jeffery Robichaud is a second generation scientist with EPA, and serves as Chief of the Environmental Assessment and Monitoring Branch in Kansas City.

One of my first recollections of Kansas City was sitting at a stoplight while fierce gusts of wind attacked my car and shook traffic signal poles so viciously that I thought they would snap like popsicle sticks. Actually, it wasn’t just the wind but also the ragweed that was assaulting my car and senses. I am violently allergic to ragweed and the stuff grows…well like weeds out here.

My allergies notwithstanding, we have pretty good air quality throughout the Midwest although we do face challenges with ozone and particulate matter in urban areas like Kansas City and St. Louis. Throughout the country, states, tribes, and local governments maintain monitors that sample for pollutants. Since these monitors play an important role in revealing air quality, they must be operated and maintained properly. We assist by auditing stations to ensure that equipment is operating properly. This work requires a platform that can house delicate instruments yet is rugged enough drive to remote locations. After several possibilities we settled on a Winnebago, but there is nothing recreational about this vehicle.

We designed it to operate as a mobile air monitoring laboratory. We’ve used this platform successfully for a number of years and it serves as a great conversation piece when we talk with children about air quality. On-site audits require several hours to complete and we use a gasoline generator to power the instruments. Sometime last year the guys got the idea of supplementing the lab with the abundant source of clean energy that was howling in their ears… wind.

Several weeks ago we installed a turbine to harness the clean energy provided by the wind. The turbine generates electricity to recharge batteries stored inside the lab that when fully charged can run the entire lab for up to eight hours without a single wisp of generator exhaust. Thanks to this innovation we will conserve gasoline on each trip (as long as the wind cooperates). As my old high school football coach Sherman Smith used to say… if it’s to be it’s up to me. We know that it is up to all of us to find ways to help reduce our carbon footprint both at home and where we work, even if work is sometimes on a dusty road in western Nebraska. Now if we could just find something to use all that ragweed for…

About the author: When not wearing a big, fuzzy giant panda costume, Aaron Ferster is the science writer-editor for EPA’s Office of Research and Development. This is his first entry for Greenversations.

I knew I was in for an interesting day when my boss looked me over and asked: “How tall are you?” “Five-foot-eleven,” I replied, wondering how height might play into my next performance evaluation.

“Perfect! There’s a big box waiting for you in shipping. It’s your costume for the Pollution Prevention Week table we’re setting up outside the Metro. Dress light. I’m told it’s hot in that panda suit.” Thus began my life as Pandy Pollution, EPA’s spokes-panda. Thanks boss!

Pandy’s goal for Earth Day was to lure people over to EPA’s display table where they could help themselves to the brochures, pamphlets, coloring books, and other environmental education materials on “going green.”

The boss was right about one thing: it was hot in there. Even dressed in gym shorts and a tee-shirt, I started roasting as soon as I slipped into the panda suit. But if you want to attract attention, going out dressed as overstuffed panda character is just the ticket. Just about everyone coming off the metro came in for a closer inspection, and plenty of folks picked up educational materials. Some even stayed to chat with the coterie of EPA experts hanging around the table. Mission accomplished.

Playing panda is a great way to help spread the word about safeguarding the environment and protecting human health. Now, it seems, real giant pandas and other wild critters play an even bigger role. There is growing scientific evidence that there is a connection between the decline in the diversity of wildlife and the emergence and spread of certain diseases.

EPA scientists are working with colleagues around the globe to better understand the link between biological diversity—the variety of species of plants, animals, and other living things that make up natural ecosystems—and emerging infectious diseases such as Lyme disease and malaria. What the scientists learn will help EPA and other agencies share important information about protecting human health. Someday soon, there might even be a stack of brochures about the subject available at the EPA Earth Day display just outside the metro entrance. If you’re interested in stopping by, just look for the 5-foot-11-inch-tall giant panda—and be sure to tell Pandy I say hello.

About the author: Dr. Robert Lackey is a 27-year veteran senior scientist in EPA’s Office of Research and Development’s Corvallis, Oregon research laboratory.

Very young children have a habit of asking innocent, but thorny questions. My grandson, however, has reached an age where innocence no longer passes for an excuse for his questions; he knows enough now that his questions reflect the traits of a budding intellectual troublemaker.

A case in point: here is my answer to his question about the increasingly popular term: ecosystem health.

“Grandpa, in school today in my science class, we talked about healthy ecosystems. My teacher says that when we are not feeling well, we go to a doctor to find out how to get healthy. If I have a sick ecosystem, she says that I should go to a scientist find out how to make the ecosystem healthy. Dad says you are a scientist, so what is a healthy ecosystem?”

It is a good question and one that I, as a research scientist who has worked on such issues for over 40 years, should be able to answer with ease.

This seemingly straightforward question, however, does not have a simple answer. Further, the answer requires a clear understanding of the proper role of science in a democracy (PDF) (7 pp., 39K) .

First, how is a person to recognize a healthy ecosystem? Many might identify the healthiest ecosystems as those that are pristine. But what is the pristine state of an ecosystem? Is it the condition of North America prior to alterations caused by European immigrants, say 1491? Or perhaps it is the condition of the land sometime well after the arrival of immigrants who came by way of the Bering land bridge, say 1,000 years ago? Or maybe it is the state of North America prior to the arrival of any humans, say more than 15,000 years ago?

Ultimately it is a policy decision (PDF) (16 pp., 173K) that will specify the desired state of an ecosystem. It is a choice, a preference, a goal.

Scientists can provide options, alternatives, and possibilities, but ultimately in a democracy it is society that chooses from among the possible goals (PDF) (6 pp., 157K) .

A malarial infested swamp in its natural state could be defined as a healthy ecosystem, as could the same land converted to an intensively managed rice paddy. Neither the swamp nor the rice paddy can be seen as a “healthy” ecosystem except through the lens of a person’s values or policy goals.

Once the desired state of an ecosystem is specified by someone, or by society overall through laws and regulation, scientists can determine how close we are to achieving that goal. They might even offer some approaches that might better achieve the goal. Ultimately, though, it is society (PDF) (5 pp., 21K) that defines the goal, not scientists. One person’s sick ecosystem is another person’s healthy ecosystem.

So the answer to my grandson’s provocative question is that human health is not an appropriate metaphor for ecosystem health. There is no inherently “healthy” state of ecosystems except when viewed from the perspective of societal values.

Pristine ecosystems (wilderness watersheds, Antarctica, uninhabited tundra) are certainly very different than highly altered ecosystems (farms, city parks, harbors) but neither a pristine ecosystem nor a highly altered ecosystem is scientifically better or worse — just different.