Working For Jobs

A few weeks ago, internet millionaire Graham Hill wrote an essay for the New York Times about the virtues of “living with less.” Hill explained that he has but a scant six shirts and 10 “shallow bowls” in his 420-square foot New York studio — a lifestyle familiar to many non-millionaires in Manhattan. He raved about how much happier and more simple his life became after he ditched the 3,600-square-foot Seattle residence, the SoHo loft, the turbocharged Volvo, and personal shopper. Thus unencumbered, he traveled the world with Olga, an “Andorran beauty.” His life was full of love and adventure.

As Hamilton Nolan wrote at Gawker, “It’s easy not to have material things when you can just buy whatever you need, whenever you need it.” And while Hill tells us that consumerism is “pushing our planet to the brink,” he admits to at least one lingering climate sin — a not-so-little travel habit.

I’m in no position to scold. I was once a frequent flier too. As the daughter of a pilot, I spent the first 30 years of my life jetting around the globe, never stopping to consider the climate consequences of my travel habit. Then, two years ago, I decided to quit cold turkey during an experiment that turned my world inside out.

My pledge was simple: to spend a year staying put. I swore off air travel and drew a 100-mile radius circle around my little farm in western Colorado. For 365 days, I’d live inside this “100 mile habitat.”

For most of Earth’s inhabitants staying put isn’t a choice, but a simple fact of life. Only about 5 percent of the world’s population has ever boarded an airplane. Still, some of us 5 percenters have come to view globetrotting as our birthright.

The numbers are sobering, however. The German carbon offset group Atmosfair has calculated that if our aim is to limit global warming to 2 degrees C above pre-industrial levels by 2050, the average person on Earth should emit no more than 2.3 metric tons of carbon dioxide annually. Ride your bike to the brew pub all you want, but one round trip from Seattle to New York will set you back 2.3 tons of CO2.

I’d always thought of airline travel as a form of public transportation — like a bus, except bigger. And if you look at aviation only in terms of gross CO2 production, it can certainly seem better than driving an SUV solo cross-country. But calculations that focus only on fuel miss some important science. It turns out that plane emissions exert a particularly large greenhouse effect because they’re injected straight into the upper atmosphere. Scientists call this “radiative forcing,” and according to researchers at Atmosfair, it means that the effects of CO2, contrails, ozone, and other plane emissions drive global warming two to five times more than if calculated based on CO2 alone.

I’m embarrassed to say that until I crunched the numbers, I was oblivious to the destructiveness of my travel habit. I wasn’t alone. Geographer Stewart Barr at Exeter University in the U.K. has studied the habits of people who identify as environmentalists and found that self-proclaimed greens take more frequent and longer flights than people who don’t label themselves enviros. Some of these “bleeding-heart jet setters” swore that they’d earned these flights with their green behaviors at home, even though their air travel obliterated the gains they’d made doing things like recycling and turning down the thermostat.

Faced with these stark realities, I set out to spend a year inside my “100 mile habitat.” Without interruption, I’d tend my heritage chickens, observe the peaches in our orchard slowly ripen in the sun, and watch the grapes in our vineyard develop their enticing colors.

Tough life, right? But it wasn’t without its sacrifices. I’d have access to canyons, rivers, mountains, and wineries, but not a single large city. My plan was met with skepticism from friends who couldn’t imagine a life without motion (“Are you getting paid for this?”) and outright hostility by my mother, who was angry I wouldn’t be coming to visit her in Albuquerque, 350 miles away. I was truly sad not to visit my parents in person, and I certainly missed out on some social and professional opportunities.

Yet I gave up far less than I’d expected. Forcing myself to “make do” with local offerings led me to explore places in my habitat that I’d missed on my way to destinations farther away. I discovered new restaurants, cultural events, and outdoor adventures. I made unexpected friends.

Shrinking my boundaries didn’t feel constricting — it felt liberating. Without travel, my life became calmer and far less stressful. After hundreds of days living in place, I felt truly grounded. It was the best year of my life, and when it was over, I had no desire to leave.

Eventually work obligations drew me out of my habitat, but I went reluctantly. Since then, I’ve traveled again, but not without pondering the selfishness of my actions: I reap the benefits of my travel, while the world’s least fortunate shoulder the bulk of the climate costs.

My carbon footprint is still ridiculously high compared to most of the world’s population, so I have no business preaching. Still, I do have suggestions for anyone looking for a richer, lower-impact life. Make a list of the things you’ve never done, places you’ve never been, and treasures you’ve never sought in your home community. If you’re like me, the number of items will surprise you. Then pledge to spend more time close to home — start with a month or maybe three.

When you do travel, ride your bike or take public transit whenever possible. Drive if you must. And if you absolutely have to fly, buy carbon offsets like Graham Hill does. But understand that you can’t buy a clean conscience. As environmental journalist George Monbiot writes, “There is no way to halt global warming and continue traveling long distances at high speeds.”

Hill is right that reducing your consumption is a good way to start shrinking your impact on the planet. But if you really want a small climate footprint, you’ll need a small habitat too.

Filed under: Climate & Energy, Living

View full post on Grist

A few weeks ago, internet millionaire Graham Hill wrote an essay for the New York Times about the virtues of “living with less.” Hill explained that he has but a scant six shirts and 10 “shallow bowls” in his 420-square foot New York studio — a lifestyle familiar to many non-millionaires in Manhattan. He raved about how much happier and more simple his life became after he ditched the 3,600-square-foot Seattle residence, the SoHo loft, the turbocharged Volvo, and personal shopper. Thus unencumbered, he traveled the world with Olga, an “Andorran beauty.” His life was full of love and adventure.

As Hamilton Nolan wrote at Gawker, “It’s easy not to have material things when you can just buy whatever you need, whenever you need it.” And while Hill tells us that consumerism is “pushing our planet to the brink,” he admits to at least one lingering climate sin — a not-so-little travel habit.

I’m in no position to scold. I was once a frequent flier too. As the daughter of a pilot, I spent the first 30 years of my life jetting around the globe, never stopping to consider the climate consequences of my travel habit. Then, two years ago, I decided to quit cold turkey during an experiment that turned my world inside out.

My pledge was simple: to spend a year staying put. I swore off air travel and drew a 100-mile radius circle around my little farm in western Colorado. For 365 days, I’d live inside this “100 mile habitat.”

For most of Earth’s inhabitants staying put isn’t a choice, but a simple fact of life. Only about 5 percent of the world’s population has ever boarded an airplane. Still, some of us 5 percenters have come to view globetrotting as our birthright.

The numbers are sobering, however. The German carbon offset group Atmosfair has calculated that if our aim is to limit global warming to 2 degrees C above pre-industrial levels by 2050, the average person on Earth should emit no more than 2.3 metric tons of carbon dioxide annually. Ride your bike to the brew pub all you want, but one round trip from Seattle to New York will set you back 2.3 tons of CO2.

I’d always thought of airline travel as a form of public transportation — like a bus, except bigger. And if you look at aviation only in terms of gross CO2 production, it can certainly seem better than driving an SUV solo cross-country. But calculations that focus only on fuel miss some important science. It turns out that plane emissions exert a particularly large greenhouse effect because they’re injected straight into the upper atmosphere. Scientists call this “radiative forcing,” and according to researchers at Atmosfair, it means that the effects of CO2, contrails, ozone, and other plane emissions drive global warming two to five times more than if calculated based on CO2 alone.

I’m embarrassed to say that until I crunched the numbers, I was oblivious to the destructiveness of my travel habit. I wasn’t alone. Geographer Stewart Barr at Exeter University in the U.K. has studied the habits of people who identify as environmentalists and found that self-proclaimed greens take more frequent and longer flights than people who don’t label themselves enviros. Some of these “bleeding-heart jet setters” swore that they’d earned these flights with their green behaviors at home, even though their air travel obliterated the gains they’d made doing things like recycling and turning down the thermostat.

Faced with these stark realities, I set out to spend a year inside my “100 mile habitat.” Without interruption, I’d tend my heritage chickens, observe the peaches in our orchard slowly ripen in the sun, and watch the grapes in our vineyard develop their enticing colors.

Tough life, right? But it wasn’t without its sacrifices. I’d have access to canyons, rivers, mountains, and wineries, but not a single large city. My plan was met with skepticism from friends who couldn’t imagine a life without motion (“Are you getting paid for this?”) and outright hostility by my mother, who was angry I wouldn’t be coming to visit her in Albuquerque, 350 miles away. I was truly sad not to visit my parents in person, and I certainly missed out on some social and professional opportunities.

Yet I gave up far less than I’d expected. Forcing myself to “make do” with local offerings led me to explore places in my habitat that I’d missed on my way to destinations farther away. I discovered new restaurants, cultural events, and outdoor adventures. I made unexpected friends.

Shrinking my boundaries didn’t feel constricting — it felt liberating. Without travel, my life became calmer and far less stressful. After hundreds of days living in place, I felt truly grounded. It was the best year of my life, and when it was over, I had no desire to leave.

Eventually work obligations drew me out of my habitat, but I went reluctantly. Since then, I’ve traveled again, but not without pondering the selfishness of my actions: I reap the benefits of my travel, while the world’s least fortunate shoulder the bulk of the climate costs.

My carbon footprint is still ridiculously high compared to most of the world’s population, so I have no business preaching. Still, I do have suggestions for anyone looking for a richer, lower-impact life. Make a list of the things you’ve never done, places you’ve never been, and treasures you’ve never sought in your home community. If you’re like me, the number of items will surprise you. Then pledge to spend more time close to home — start with a month or maybe three.

When you do travel, ride your bike or take public transit whenever possible. Drive if you must. And if you absolutely have to fly, buy carbon offsets like Graham Hill does. But understand that you can’t buy a clean conscience. As environmental journalist George Monbiot writes, “There is no way to halt global warming and continue traveling long distances at high speeds.”

Hill is right that reducing your consumption is a good way to start shrinking your impact on the planet. But if you really want a small climate footprint, you’ll need a small habitat too.

Filed under: Climate & Energy, Living

View full post on Grist

A few weeks ago, internet millionaire Graham Hill wrote an essay for the New York Times about the virtues of “living with less.” Hill explained that he has but a scant six shirts and 10 “shallow bowls” in his 420-square foot New York studio – a lifestyle familiar to many non-millioniares in Manhattan. He raved about how much happier and more simple his life became after he ditched the 3,600-square-foot Seattle residence, the SoHo loft, the turbocharged Volvo and personal shopper. Thus unencumbered, he traveled the world with Olga, an “Andorran beauty.” His life was full of love and adventure.

As Hamilton Nolan wrote at Gawker, “It’s easy not to have material things when you can just buy whatever you need, whenever you need it.” And while Hill tells us that consumerism is “pushing our planet to the brink,” he admits to at least one lingering climate sin – a not-so-little travel habit.

I’m in no position to scold. I was once a frequent flier too. As the daughter of a pilot, I spent the first 30 years of my life jetting around the globe, never stopping to consider the climate consequences of my travel habit. Then, two years ago, I decided to quit cold turkey during an experiment that turned my world inside out.

My pledge was simple: to spend a year staying put. I swore off air travel and drew a 100-mile radius circle around my little farm in western Colorado. For 365 days, I’d live inside this “hundred mile habitat.”

For most of Earth’s inhabitants staying put isn’t a choice, but a simple fact of life. Only about five percent of the world’s population has ever boarded an airplane. Still, some of us five percenters have come to view globetrotting as our birthright.

The numbers are sobering, however. The German carbon offset group Atmosfair has calculated that if our aim is to limit global warming to 2°C above pre-industrial levels by 2050, the average person on Earth should emit no more than 2.3 metric tons of carbon dioxide annually. Ride your bike to the brew pub all you want, but one round trip from Seattle to New York will set you back 2.3 tons of CO2.

I’d always thought of airline travel as a form of public transportation – like a bus, except bigger. And if you look at aviation only in terms of gross CO2 production, it can certainly seem better than driving an SUV solo cross-country. But calculations that focus only on fuel miss some important science. It turns out that plane emissions exert a particularly large greenhouse effect because they’re injected straight into the upper atmosphere. Scientists call this “radiative forcing” and according to researchers at Atmosfair, it means that the effects of CO2, contrails, ozone, and other plane emissions drive global warming two to five times more than if calculated based on CO2 alone.

I’m embarrassed to say that until I crunched the numbers, I was oblivious to the destructiveness of my travel habit. I wasn’t alone. Geographer Stewart Barr at Exeter University in the U.K. has studied the habits of people who identify as environmentalists and found that self-proclaimed greens take more frequent and longer flights than people who don’t label themselves enviros. Some of these “bleeding-heart jet setters” swore that they’d earned these flights with their green behaviors at home, even though their air travel obliterated the gains they’d made doing things like recycling and turning down the thermostat.

Faced with these stark realities, I set out to spend a year inside my “hundred mile habitat.” Without interruption, I’d tend my heritage chickens, observe the peaches in our orchard slowly ripen in the sun, and watch the grapes in our vineyard develop their enticing colors.

Tough life, right? But it wasn’t without its sacrifices. I’d have access to canyons, rivers, mountains and wineries, but not a single large city. My plan was met with skepticism from friends who couldn’t imagine a life without motion (“Are you getting paid for this?”) and outright hostility by my mother, who was angry I wouldn’t be coming to visit her in Albuquerque, 350 miles away. I was truly sad not to visit my parents in person, and I certainly missed out on some social and professional opportunities.

Yet I gave up far less than I’d expected. Forcing myself to “make do” with local offerings led me to explore places in my habitat that I’d missed on my way to destinations farther away. I discovered new restaurants, cultural events, and outdoor adventures. I made unexpected friends.

Shrinking my boundaries didn’t feel constricting – it felt liberating. Without travel, my life became calmer and far less stressful. After hundreds of days living in place, I felt truly grounded. It was the best year of my life, and when it was over, I had no desire to leave.

Eventually work obligations drew me out of my habitat, but I went reluctantly. Since then, I’ve traveled again, but not without pondering the selfishness of my actions: I reap the benefits of my travel, while the world’s least fortunate shoulder the bulk of the climate costs.

My carbon footprint is still ridiculously high compared to most of the world’s population, so I have no business preaching. Still, I do have suggestions for anyone looking for a richer, lower-impact life. Make a list of the things you’ve never done, places you’ve never been, and treasures you’ve never sought in your home community. If you’re like me, the number of items will surprise you. Then pledge to spend more time close to home – start with a month or maybe three.

When you do travel, ride your bike or take public transit whenever possible. Drive if you must. And if you absolutely have to fly, buy carbon offsets like Graham Hill does. But understand that you can’t buy a clean conscience. As environmental journalist George Monbiot writes, “There is no way to halt global warming and continue traveling long distances at high speeds.”

Hill is right that reducing your consumption is a good way to start shrinking your impact on the planet. But if you really want a small climate footprint, you’ll need a small habitat too.

Filed under: Living

View full post on Grist

Coachella Valley Assoc. of Governments/Palm Desert, CA

HABITAT CONSERVATION MANAGEMENT ANALYST – Coachella Valley Association of Governments (CVAG) – (Salary: $59,162 – $73,710 annually, plus a generous benefits package.) Under the direction of the Director of Environmental Resources, performs a wide variety of responsible and complex administrative and analytical duties; works on Coachella Valley Multiple Species Habitat Conservation Plan programs as well as provides associated clerical and staff support; Interfaces with member jurisdictions, state and federal agencies, consultants, and community organizations. REQUIREMENTS: Bachelor=s degree. APPLY BY: June 15, 2012 by 5 p.m. CVAG APPLICATION REQUIRED. Applications may be obtained at: at CVAG 73-710 Fred Waring Dr., Ste. 200, Palm Desert, CA 92260; or by calling (760) 346-112

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View full post on GreenBiz Jobs

Save The Bay/Oakland, CA

Save The Bay is leading the regional effort to re-establish 100,000 acres of tidal marsh to provide natural habitat for Bay wildlife and to buffer against sea level rise resulting from climate change. Scientists recommend that this amount of wetland habitat is necessary to sustain a healthy San Francisco Bay ecosystem.

Save The Bay has pioneered successful restoration and enhancement of tidal marsh habitat over the past decade through our Community Based Restoration program. Our team of restoration scientists uses trained volunteers as an essential component of our strategy to implement restoration plans of federal, state and local site partners, focusing on the unique band of transition zone habitat above the mean high tide line that does not re-establish voluntarily. This community engagement program is also supports Save The Bay’s strategic plan outcomes in constituency growth, partnerships, and advocacy.

The impacts of sea level rise from climate change increase the urgency and importance of restoring Bay tidal marsh, including healthy high-marsh transition zone. Region-wide application of Save The Bay’s adaptive management approach can increase marsh habitat sustainability, prevent tidal edge erosion, maintain marsh elevation, combat invasive species establishment, and provide refuge habitat for sensitive marsh species.

Building on our demonstrated success with these methods, including qualitative and quantitative analysis of best techniques and restoration tools, Save The Bay’s Habitat Restoration Director will develop an adaptive management plan for tidal marsh ecotone restoration, addressing effective weed removal techniques, optimal plant and species numbers for sustainable native vegetation, maintenance regimes and methods, and efficient and economical use of volunteers. S/he will lead advocacy for adoption and implementation of this plan throughout the Bay, and replication of our techniques by restoration project managers and permitting agencies for maximum regional benefit.

Position Summary:

The Habitat Restoration Director leads the Save The Bay restoration team to develop best practices, engage volunteers in community-based restoration and work with site managers, resource agencies, scientists and other partners. The Director develops strategies to support organizational goals for constituency growth, fundraising, restoration of tidal marshes and community engagement. The Director oversees on-the-ground habitat restoration, community engagement and youth education programs, and plans for program growth and sustainability. The Director manages high-level partnerships with government agencies and key stakeholders, and raises funds to support Save The Bay’s restoration program goals. The Director also provides mentorship for the Habitat Restoration Department, creating a collaborative and productive team.

Reports to: Chief Strategy Officer

Supervises: Senior Scientist, Restoration Program Manager, and Community Engagement Manager

Primary Responsibilities:

* Develop and implement habitat restoration program to achieve organizational and strategic plan goals in restoration science, and objectives for community engagement, youth education and institutional partnerships.
* Establish adaptive management plan for tidal marsh ecotone restoration with restoration standards addressing effective weed removal techniques, optimal plant and species numbers for sustainable native vegetation, maintenance regimes and methods, and efficient and economical use of volunteers. Secure its implementation by Bay restoration managers, resource agencies and partner organizations.
* Oversee delivery of high-quality volunteer programs for adults, students and businesses that achieve restoration and education goals and constituency growth objectives; evaluate program effectiveness to ensure excellence and impact.
* Design and implement adaptive management techniques for successful on-the-ground restoration projects.
* Provide staff with technical knowledge and oversee analysis of quantitative and qualitative restoration data, refinement of best practices and techniques, and sharing of appropriate information with key restoration practitioners, decision makers and stakeholders.
* Engage in direct communication with regulators and decision-makers to secure implementation, funding and land acquisition for 100,000 acres of restored Bay tidal marsh.
* Identify and pursue partnership opportunities, new restoration sites and other strategic opportunities as appropriate.
* Serve as organizational spokesperson with target audiences; create opportunities to promote restoration science program, organization, mission and goals.

Management, Fundraising, and Administrative Responsibilities

* Hire, manage, evaluate, and mentor the nine-person habitat restoration program staff to meet work plan goals; hire and manage consultants as needed.
* Supervise Senior Scientist, Restoration Program Manager, and Community Engagement Manager and support them with managing their direct reports.
* Lead fundraising efforts to grow habitat restoration program; help secure $1 million annually in grants and contracts to support program implementation.
* Establish annual work plan goals and develop and manage department budget.
* Other duties as assigned.

Qualifications:

* Master’s degree in environmental science, natural resource management, earth systems, botany, or biology required. PhD highly preferred.
* Five to seven years experience in wetland restoration ecology, advocacy and program management.
* Extensive knowledge of estuarine ecology, wetland restoration and wetland biology.
* Experience in overseeing community engagement and environmental education programs
* Strong supervision and management experience, with demonstrated success motivating employees to set and accomplish ambitious objectives.
* Proven leadership.
* Sets goals, manages priorities, meets deadlines; attention to detail.
* Ability to build strong relationships with stakeholders and cultivate new audiences.
* Exceptional writing and speaking skills with the ability to synthesize complex concepts into clear messages.
* Creative, flexible, and demonstrates problem solving skills and superior judgment.
* Computer proficiency with Windows and Internet research applications.
* Clean background check and CA driver’s license.
* Enthusiasm for Save The Bay’s mission.
* Highly Desired – ownership (or unrestricted access) to a vehicle to use for work purposes.

To apply: Please email your resume and cover letter to: jobs@savesfbay.org Subject line: Habitat Restoration Director – [your last name]

Or mail to: Habitat Restoration Director Search Save The Bay 1330 Broadway, Suite 1800 Oakland, CA 94612

Please no phone calls. Save The Bay will contact you if you are selected for further consideration.

It is a priority to Save The Bay to recruit and retain a diverse workforce. Save The Bay is an equal opportunity employer.

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Great Basin Institute/Lake Tahoe Basin/ Carson Range

In cooperation with the Nevada Department of Wildlife, the ICVE is recruiting a Field Technician to assist in assessing habitat of mountain beavers (Aplodontia rufa) in the east Lake Tahoe Basin and Carson Range, NV. In this region, mountain beavers live in forested riparian habitat and their restricted occurrence in west-central Nevada is poorly documented. Mountain beavers (the single extant species in the family Aplodontidae) are not actually beavers (Castoridae) but are large rodents most closely related to squirrels (Sciuridae). They are considered a species of conservation concern because of their restricted range in Nevada and because their population status in the state is unknown. Findings of this study will inform a habitat suitability model for Nevada populations. Working with two others, the Field Technician will conduct surveys for mountain beaver and their sign, and assess habitat characteristics, including vegetation and thermal features, using standard methods. The Field Technician may also have opportunities to participate in other ongoing studies of small mammals and birds in the vicinity. The Field Technician should be capable of working long hours in rugged, uneven, forested terrain in which daily temperatures may range widely. Primitive field camping may be required.

Timeline: May 16 – August 31, 2011

Compensation: This is a volunteer internship position. A daily food per diem and lodging is provided throughout the internship.

Qualifications:

Technical Requirements:
Previous field experience that includes:
-adhering to field data collection protocols, and; accurately collecting and recording field data.
-Familiarity with, or interest in: the ecology and conservation biology of Mountain Beavers and other small mammals of the Sierra Nevada, and; forest and riparian ecology, and associated natural resource issues.
-Experience in plant identification and vegetation assessment preferred;
-Ability to use, or learn to use, a GPS unit and standard methods and equipment for habitat characterization.

Additional requirements:
-Ability to work productively, consistently and cooperatively as part of a team to accomplish mutual goals;
-Possess strong organizational skills;
-Ability to work in variable weather conditions, traverse steep and uneven terrain, carry upwards of 20 pounds in a backpack, and otherwise maintain good physical condition;
-Willingness and ability to work and camp in remote areas;
-Familiarity with back-country, low-impact principles preferred;
-Possess a valid driver’s license and clean driving record; and
-Ability to safely drive a 4WD vehicle on unpaved roads that can be steep and rutted.

ICVE Internships and the Student Exchange Visitor Program (SEVP): The U.S. Department of State has designated the International Conservation Volunteer Exchange to administer a J-1 Student Exchange Visitor Program (SEVP). All ICVE inters are sponsored through this J-1 visa program and must meet the following minimum requirements in or to be eligible for placement:
-Be currently enrolled in and pursuing studies at a foreign degree or certificate-granting post-secondary academic institution outside the United States, or;
-Have graduated from such an institute no more than 12 months prior to the program start date, and;
-Possess a valid passport throughout any time spent in the United States.

When offered a placement, each participant is responsible for a $300, non-refundable, visa processing fee. Also, a refundable $150 (for lodging facilities and field gear) security deposit is also required from each participant. Both fees are due upon acceptance to the program.

To Apply: Please contact ICVE Program Director, Jeff Bryant, at jbryant@GBInstitute.org for an application. Please visit our website at www.GBInstitute.org.

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by Agence France-Presse.

WASHINGTON—The U.S. government on Wednesday designated “critical habitat” for polar bears who live on Alaska’s disappearing sea ice, a move that could affect new oil and gas drilling projects in the Arctic.

The Fish and Wildlife Service set aside 187,000 square miles off Alaska as the threatened bears’ habitat, which means any project that could affect the animals’ way of life must undergo careful review.

“This critical habitat designation enables us to work with federal partners to ensure their actions within its boundaries do not harm polar bear populations,” said Tom Strickland, assistant secretary for Fish and Wildlife and Parks. “Nevertheless, the greatest threat to the polar bear is the melting of its sea ice habitat caused by human-induced climate change. We will continue to work toward comprehensive strategies for the long-term survival of this iconic species.”

The move falls short of barring any drilling or other activity in the area, but “identifies geographic areas containing features considered essential for the conservation of the bear that require special management or protection.”

Environmental advocates earlier this month warned that polar bear habitats could be disrupted if oil companies eager to exploit the Arctic for fuel were to experience an accidental spill like the BP gusher in the Gulf of Mexico. 

The Fish and Wildlife Service acknowledged that the designation, which includes swaths of the Beaufort and Chukchi Seas off northern Alaska, “encompass[es] areas where oil and gas exploration activities are known to occur.”

Any activity there would now have to undergo a review to “identify ways to implement these actions consistent with species conservation,” the statement said. “This applies to oil and gas development activities, as well as any other activity within the range of the polar bear that may have an adverse affect on the species.”

The United States has classified the polar bear as threatened but not endangered; the species is struggling because the sea ice on which it lives and hunts is melting due to climate change.

The U.S. government is considering opening the Chukchi Sea, a body of water off the coast of Alaska that is shared with Russia, to drilling, but is reviewing leases awarded in 2008 after a lawsuit by indigenous people and green groups contended that the government does not have enough facts about how drilling would affect the environment.

Companies like Royal Dutch Shell want to begin drilling in the coming months, once winter ice begins to break up, and are submitting proposals to show they can meet tougher new government regulations.

The U.S. Geological Survey said in 2008 that within the Arctic Circle there are 90 billion barrels of oil and vast quantities of natural gas, most of it offshore.

Related Links:

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Mother of Green Party candidate killed by SUV becomes bike-safety advocate

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by Tom Philpott.

Deep in the Gulf of Mexico, plumes of dispersed oil linger, wreaking unknown damage on one of the globe’s most productive ecosystems.

But
BP’s oil isn’t the only destructive substance that gushed into the Gulf
this year. This summer—and every summer since the early 1970s—a
large amount of fertilizer leached out of Midwestern corn fields and
into streams that drain into the Mississippi, eventually
making its way to the Gulf. Once there, it feeds gigantic algae blooms
that, as they decompose, suck up oxygen and squeeze out sea life.
Scientists call this process “hypoxia.”

Researchers
from Louisiana Universities Marine Consortium have been measuring the
Gulf’s hypoxic zone since 1985. Every year, they gauge the size of the
“dead zone” by heading out on a research ship called the Pelican to measure oxygen levels near the Mississippi’s mouth. The team has just filed its report [PDF] for this year. Their verdict: “one f the largest ever.”

The
team concluded that this year’s dead zone covers 7,722 square miles—
an area roughly equal to the landmass of Massachusetts, and the sixth-largest
area since the group started measuring. As the chart at the bottom of this post shows, this year’s dead zone fits in with a disturbing upward trend
since 2006, when government-mandated ethanol production began diverting
ever-greater amounts of corn into car-fuel production.

What
does ethanol have to do with the dead zone? Responding to higher corn
prices, farmers have been moved to shift more land into corn production
and use more chemical fertilizers to boost yields. Corn plants typically
only take up 40 percent of the synthetic nitrogen applied by farmers,
leaving the rest to wash out into streams and down to the
Gulf.

Last
year, the Gulf got merciful respite. Tropical storms came at just the
right time to diffuse fertilizer pollution, resulting in the smallest
dead zone since 2000. This year, recent storms have just broken the
hypoxic areas into clusters. As the report puts it:

Instead
of the usual continuous band of low oxygen along the coast, this
summer’s distribution was a patchwork of several areas. The scientists
think that this result is because of recent tropical storm activity.

And
this summer’s dead zone may actually be the largest ever—bad weather
stopped the Louisiana Universities Marine Consortium’s ship from fully
measuring the affected area. “The total area probably would have been
the largest if we had had enough time to completely map the western
part,” the consortium’s executive director, Nancy Rabalais, said.

The
researchers directly tie the size of the dead zone to industrial corn
production in the Midwest. “The size of the hypoxic zone and nitrogen
loading from the river is an unambiguous relationship,” one researcher
remarked. “We need to act on that information.”

Of
course, we’re doing the exact opposite. For the health of the Gulf ecosystem, researchers hope to see the size of the dead zone drop significantly by 2015. But ethanol mandates and surging demand from China all
but guarantee higher corn prices for years to come. And that means ever
more chemical fertilizers will be dumped on Midwestern corn fields—
and ever larger dead zones will bloom going forward. To supply the world with cheap
low-quality meat and and ourselves with highly subsidized, low-quality
fuel, we seem content to kill off ever larger swaths of a vital natural asset. We’re behaving not unlike a rich kid who blows his trust fund on Scotch, cocaine, and casino chips.

It also bears noting that nitrogen-fed dead zones like the one in the Gulf—the largest one of 400 worldwide—don’t just devastate local fish habitats. They also contribute to climate change. According to a study published this spring in Science, oxygen-starved areas of the ocean emit significantly more nitrous oxide into the atmosphere than healthy waters. Nitrous oxide is a greenhouse gas some 300 times more potent than carbon.

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