Isle Royale National Park is an island in Lake Superior reachable only by ferry from the mainland. Though part of the state of Michigan, it is much closer to Minnesota and the Canadian province of Ontario than to the Upper Peninsula. While it was formerly occupied and used for copper mining, the archipelago is now a designated Wilderness area (there are still historical structures and lighthouses, but no permanent residents or industry). It has also been the site of a long-running study of wolf and moose populations.
As a generally isolated system, the island has been an ideal setting for tracking predator-prey dynamics. However, this has led to problems, particularly for the smaller wolf population, with inbreeding and genetic diversity. In particularly cold winters it is possible for animals to cross onto and off of the island over ice bridges, but there is no guarantee that wolves or moose will do so in any given year. An introduced parvovirus wiped out a sizable number of the wolves and the remaining populations went into a precipitous decline. A lone male in the 1990s had brought some genetic diversity back to the island, but the population is now down to two. A closely inbred pair that has had little success with offspring (one recent pup that has since died was visibly deformed).
The decline in predation has led, not surprisingly, to a substantial increase in the moose population on the island. While this is in some ways good, moose on the mainland are struggling under pressure from ticks and brainworm, it can have damaging long-term consequences for the island's ecosystem and the moose population itself, from over-consumption and soil damage. Perhaps the island can provide a temporary refuge for a population, until conditions on the mainland improve (though with climate change driving many of these changes due to warmer winters that is an iffy proposition). Management of wolves and moose on the mainland in Minnesota is an even more complicated and at times controversial issue, that largely pits hunters, property owners, and conservationists against each other, but in a complicated network. For example, hunters want to hunt moose, but they also want to ensure that there are always moose to hunt. Some oppose hunting moratoriums, while others don't. Some want predators removed (like the wolves) while others want more moose brought in. It's complicated and the state Department of Natural Resources has the unenviable job of balancing the interests of all these people while also maintaining both the animal and physical resources of the state for the benefit of all the people using scientific best practices (subject to political decisions...). But I digress.
Back on Isle Royale, there is a controversy about whether wolves should be allowed to go extinct, be repopulated once they die out, or have new members introduced before they do to refresh the gene pool as a "genetic rescue." At this point, with only two remaining wolves, genetic rescue is out of the question. They are aging and too closely related with a poor track record of reproduction. It is almost certain that the wolves will die out soon, possibly even this year. What happens then? It is possible that as wolf populations increase on the mainland they will repopulate the island in search of prey and new territory. This is likely how wolves originally came to Isle Royale in the 1940s. It is also possible that they don't and that the moose population goes through cycles of boom and crash (with associated problems for plants, soils, and other species). The moose could be managed by removal or hunting, or allowed to cycle and starve. Wolves could also be reintroduced from healthy, genetically diverse populations either from the mainland or elsewhere in the country (some areas are viewed as "over populated," at least in terms of minimizing human-wildlife conflict in fringe areas).
What complicates all of these decisions, in addition to uncertainty about what will versus what could happen, is the fact that Isle Royale is a designated Wilderness, where human intervention is meant to be limited. What that means in practice varies (humans occupied and mined the island, have caused climate change, have introduced illness and other species), but generally means that there will be minimal intervention going forward, regardless of what has happened in the past. This can be contrasted with (and in some ways was a response in the 1960s to) the "Disney-fication" of some of the more popular and iconic national parks, that are actively managed to generate certain views and experiences and provide certain amenities (again, this is a side issue, but for a much longer exploration of the issue, read my undergraduate thesis on it here). My take, which appears to be in line with the current NPS position and that of many scientists, is one of "wait and see." While there are potential harms to allowing wolves to disappear and moose numbers to increase, there is also the question of what it means to return the island to a "natural" state. Should the moose also be removed and caribou and lynx reintroduced to restore the fauna of the 1800s? Should all of them be restored? While any decision, including the decision not to act, will have consequences, it seems most in line with the spirit of the island, and island ecosystems generally, to let things play out as they will, though if a moose crisis truly appears, it can be revisited (including hunting, which isn't categorically prohibited in Wilderness, though it is in National Parks).
Showing posts with label Wilderness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Wilderness. Show all posts
Monday, May 2, 2016
Monday, April 16, 2012
Sound and Light
Just a short post (and apologies for not posting in a while, it has been a busy month looks to continue being busy for the next few weeks but that really shouldn't be an excuse) on things that are both important and frequently overlooked: sound and darkness. When one thinks of nature, the first things that come to mind are often landscapes, sometimes animals or plants, but the idea is almost always dominated by the visual. In fact, many people probably think of nature as a place where it is silent, only realizing that it is actually filled with myriad noises of its own, from the wind and water to the sound of insects, birds, and other animals, all of which contribute to the soundscape (and not in the cheesy, "sounds of nature" relaxation tape way).
What got me thinking about this topic was a profile I read about a month ago about Davyd Betchkal and other members of the Denali National Park sound capture team. Their goal is to record a month's worth of sound from around the park and despite the remoteness of the location and the fact that they have been at it for six years, they still have only 36 days of audio without combustion engines. Some sites have recorded as many as 78 planes in a 24 hour period. Another captures some kind of motor every 17 minutes. While human activities undoubtedly affect wildlife, it is unclear if there is a minimum level of disturbance that can coexist with a healthy, "natural" ecosystem and soundscape. Part of why it is so difficult to determine is because it is so difficult to record days without disturbance, let alone multiple days at once. It is hard to know what to change when there isn't even a well-defined baseline to use for comparison. Combine that with the inherent uncertainty behind observation (the Observer Effect and the Uncertainty Principle can be particularly pronounced when dealing with sounds and wildlife for obvious reasons) and it can seem like an almost impossible task.
As difficult as the task the Denali recorders have set for themselves may be, it is an important one and when I read about it I immediately was reminded of Maya Lin's beautiful and ambitious, multi-media memorial/exhibit/installation/activism called What is Missing? This piece, at home on the internet but partnered with organizations and individuals worldwide, is meant to draw attention to the disappearance of species from the planet, in part by using audio and video pieces to highlight what is or, more often, isn't there. We don't often think about the world in terms of what used to be or what is absent, but this piece forces us to confront that and urges action to prevent a world where all the sounds (and sights and smells and ecological contributions) are limited to just a handful of the most common, most opportunistic, or most invasive species.
While it isn't exactly the same, I would say that a similar idea relates to darkness. Darkness isn't actually dark, at least not in the open wilderness (caves are different), but it is important. Light pollution, like sound pollution, separates us from the world around us, concentrating our attention on the ground level experience and reducing our awareness of the greater world and universe around us. There is something about being able to look into a truly dark sky and see to incomprehensible distances that changes one's outlook, I would say for the better, and opens the mind to the existence of things and people beyond the immediate experience. While urban areas will always have light pollution, there is much that can be done to reduce it so that safety concerns are still satisfied but the ugly brown glow blotting out the sky and spreading over the horizon is minimized.
So those are my quick thoughts on sound and light. I know I haven't done them justice but I hope that just by talking about them I can help bring them out of the background, where they are often upstaged by the showier, more breathtaking scenery.
What got me thinking about this topic was a profile I read about a month ago about Davyd Betchkal and other members of the Denali National Park sound capture team. Their goal is to record a month's worth of sound from around the park and despite the remoteness of the location and the fact that they have been at it for six years, they still have only 36 days of audio without combustion engines. Some sites have recorded as many as 78 planes in a 24 hour period. Another captures some kind of motor every 17 minutes. While human activities undoubtedly affect wildlife, it is unclear if there is a minimum level of disturbance that can coexist with a healthy, "natural" ecosystem and soundscape. Part of why it is so difficult to determine is because it is so difficult to record days without disturbance, let alone multiple days at once. It is hard to know what to change when there isn't even a well-defined baseline to use for comparison. Combine that with the inherent uncertainty behind observation (the Observer Effect and the Uncertainty Principle can be particularly pronounced when dealing with sounds and wildlife for obvious reasons) and it can seem like an almost impossible task.
As difficult as the task the Denali recorders have set for themselves may be, it is an important one and when I read about it I immediately was reminded of Maya Lin's beautiful and ambitious, multi-media memorial/exhibit/installation/activism called What is Missing? This piece, at home on the internet but partnered with organizations and individuals worldwide, is meant to draw attention to the disappearance of species from the planet, in part by using audio and video pieces to highlight what is or, more often, isn't there. We don't often think about the world in terms of what used to be or what is absent, but this piece forces us to confront that and urges action to prevent a world where all the sounds (and sights and smells and ecological contributions) are limited to just a handful of the most common, most opportunistic, or most invasive species.
While it isn't exactly the same, I would say that a similar idea relates to darkness. Darkness isn't actually dark, at least not in the open wilderness (caves are different), but it is important. Light pollution, like sound pollution, separates us from the world around us, concentrating our attention on the ground level experience and reducing our awareness of the greater world and universe around us. There is something about being able to look into a truly dark sky and see to incomprehensible distances that changes one's outlook, I would say for the better, and opens the mind to the existence of things and people beyond the immediate experience. While urban areas will always have light pollution, there is much that can be done to reduce it so that safety concerns are still satisfied but the ugly brown glow blotting out the sky and spreading over the horizon is minimized.
So those are my quick thoughts on sound and light. I know I haven't done them justice but I hope that just by talking about them I can help bring them out of the background, where they are often upstaged by the showier, more breathtaking scenery.
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Ideas of Nature and Social Construction
This is a topic I've been meaning to write on for quite a while and have touched on in the context of other issues repeatedly, but the time has finally come to give it direct attention. I have been fascinated for a long time by changes in conceptions of nature, what is natural, what it means to be wild, and from what source such places and concepts derive their meaning and importance (for their own sake, for the value of goods/services they can sustainably provide to humans, for the value of onetime goods/services they can provide, for their aesthetic value (and it's interesting to see how those ideas change), for their scientific value, etc.). While there is a rich and growing literature in what has come to be called environmental studies (with contributions from engineers and architects/urban planners, biologists, geologists, historians, economists, sociologists, artists, literary critics, philosophers, and theologians), a small blog is hardly the place to even pretend to summarize the field (though if you want a good place to start Donald Worster, William Cronon, and Richard White represent three distinct schools of thought and are leading thinkers in the field, at least among environmental historians).
Now that I've made the task seem overwhelming, it's time to get to actually writing. I'm a bit disappointed that right when I get ready to write on this topic the NYT goes and steals my thunder publishing a thoughtful Op-Ed by Michael Lipsky on regulation and wilderness. While his broader point is that there is nowhere in the nation, even in seemingly remote places that the reassurances of law do not comfort and the protections of regulation do not reach, he also rightly notes that the very idea of Wilderness has been codified in America, defined and protected as a place, to quote the Wilderness Act, "where man himself is a visitor who does not remain" that is free of trails, permanent structures, and motors of any kind. He also paraphrases Roderick Nash's observation that wilderness is based on state of mind. This, too, is true. While federally designated (and therefore protected) wilderness has been strictly defined and given a specific set of social values, there are many other "wild" places one may encounter nature as well as ones that are not nearly as natural as they may seem.
A place of the first type can be found in my hometown (indeed my old neighborhood) of Philadelphia. There, a landscape designer has decided to let her yard "go wild," and has been cited by the city for its seemingly weedy and unkempt appearance. Clearly this is a case of social norms as to what constitutes an acceptable yard is coming up against though an alternative thinker. The benefits of a non-monoculture, unfertilized yard that attracts pollinators are clearly high, but they definitely do not mesh with the standard vision of an urban home. (This is not the most egregious case, however, that goes to Oak Park, MI, where a city planner threatened a homeowner using twisted logic for having a vegetable garden in her yard. Fortunately Julie Bass prevailed over the urban planing department). While no one will ever mistake a yard or even a city park for a wilderness, how we think about them is quite revealing of how we view nature and its role in human life and the boundary between them (if there is one). (Another very interesting project that plays on this boundary is NYC's High Line, which I highly recommend walking in its entirety should you get the chance). City parks and how they are designed is also fascinating and revealing, but that is a matter for another post.
Finally we have purportedly wild places that aren't nearly as natural as they would seem. I take as my example in this case Yosemite National Park. One of the Park Service's crown jewels, featuring giant sequoias, stunning views, easy access from the Bay Area (and the attendant crush of people) it is a truly beautiful place. It is also highly managed and while less Disneyfied than it used to be (the 1 hour photo is gone and I think the golf course is as well), it is still largely dominated by roads, parking lots, and paved trails to the best vistas. But that is not what I want to discuss (it's a bit too obvious). What caught my eye for inclusion in this post was an article at the end of July about how the NPS is managing the trees and meadows in the park with the aim of optimizing and restoring the views of the impressive peaks of Half Dome and El Capitan that were seen when the park was founded. The reason this is necessary is because a century of aggressive (and ecologically misguided) fire suppression has caused trees to fill in many of the meadows, blocking off many of the views and trails that once crisscrossed the valley. That such meadows were created and kept open by Native Americans via periodic burnings and then by settlers through grazing is alluded to but the implications for any concept of "restoration" or "natural state" skipped over by the author. While I do not know enough about the logistics of the plan to take a position for or against this logging action, I can say that it is definitely not restoring nature as it was when the park was constructed. What it is doing is restoring the image of the park as it existed when it was popularized and propagated via promotional pamphlets, artwork, movies, and televisions. The iconic image of Half Dome and El Capitan rising over the valley is what visitors expect. Many are consumers of the "postcard vista" idea of parks, best illustrated by Mount Rushmore, and are disappointed when they do not find it. While I find such people misguided, they are at least expecting something that has been protected to a small degree (though the Valley is in pretty poor shape) but has made possible the preservation of a much larger area. </digression>.
What do all of these things have in common? They all challenge ideas of what nature and wilderness are and how we think about the boundaries and interactions between our built environment and the "other" that lies outside our comfort zone. Going back to those historians, I believe it is White who has written how nature has been defined and redefined to constitute the "other" against which we define our culture and civilization. While there are many other "others" that mark boundaries between cultures, there is definite merit behind the idea of a shifting nature/man boundary that has moved as our social, aesthetic,and economic needs have changed. But that boundary is becoming more blurred and it is easy to look behind the label and examine how true or easily made those distinctions remain. What you see when you look can tell you a lot about your frame of reference, state of mind, and cultural values, and sometimes what you see might surprise you.
Update 9/20:
Apparently Memphis, Tennessee, is also under the impression that gardens are essentially stinking, unsightly wastelands that need to be scrubbed from the community. I really do not understand these people and have no idea what this neighbor could possibly be thinking. Only two things come to mind, neither flattering. One is a Stepford Wives dystopia and the other recalls the episode of The X-Files in which a garbage monster kills members of an HOA that do not conform to a ridiculously draconian code. These people need to grow up and start addressing real problems, not attacking people trying to live healthier, be outside, and give back to their community.
Now that I've made the task seem overwhelming, it's time to get to actually writing. I'm a bit disappointed that right when I get ready to write on this topic the NYT goes and steals my thunder publishing a thoughtful Op-Ed by Michael Lipsky on regulation and wilderness. While his broader point is that there is nowhere in the nation, even in seemingly remote places that the reassurances of law do not comfort and the protections of regulation do not reach, he also rightly notes that the very idea of Wilderness has been codified in America, defined and protected as a place, to quote the Wilderness Act, "where man himself is a visitor who does not remain" that is free of trails, permanent structures, and motors of any kind. He also paraphrases Roderick Nash's observation that wilderness is based on state of mind. This, too, is true. While federally designated (and therefore protected) wilderness has been strictly defined and given a specific set of social values, there are many other "wild" places one may encounter nature as well as ones that are not nearly as natural as they may seem.
A place of the first type can be found in my hometown (indeed my old neighborhood) of Philadelphia. There, a landscape designer has decided to let her yard "go wild," and has been cited by the city for its seemingly weedy and unkempt appearance. Clearly this is a case of social norms as to what constitutes an acceptable yard is coming up against though an alternative thinker. The benefits of a non-monoculture, unfertilized yard that attracts pollinators are clearly high, but they definitely do not mesh with the standard vision of an urban home. (This is not the most egregious case, however, that goes to Oak Park, MI, where a city planner threatened a homeowner using twisted logic for having a vegetable garden in her yard. Fortunately Julie Bass prevailed over the urban planing department). While no one will ever mistake a yard or even a city park for a wilderness, how we think about them is quite revealing of how we view nature and its role in human life and the boundary between them (if there is one). (Another very interesting project that plays on this boundary is NYC's High Line, which I highly recommend walking in its entirety should you get the chance). City parks and how they are designed is also fascinating and revealing, but that is a matter for another post.
Finally we have purportedly wild places that aren't nearly as natural as they would seem. I take as my example in this case Yosemite National Park. One of the Park Service's crown jewels, featuring giant sequoias, stunning views, easy access from the Bay Area (and the attendant crush of people) it is a truly beautiful place. It is also highly managed and while less Disneyfied than it used to be (the 1 hour photo is gone and I think the golf course is as well), it is still largely dominated by roads, parking lots, and paved trails to the best vistas. But that is not what I want to discuss (it's a bit too obvious). What caught my eye for inclusion in this post was an article at the end of July about how the NPS is managing the trees and meadows in the park with the aim of optimizing and restoring the views of the impressive peaks of Half Dome and El Capitan that were seen when the park was founded. The reason this is necessary is because a century of aggressive (and ecologically misguided) fire suppression has caused trees to fill in many of the meadows, blocking off many of the views and trails that once crisscrossed the valley. That such meadows were created and kept open by Native Americans via periodic burnings and then by settlers through grazing is alluded to but the implications for any concept of "restoration" or "natural state" skipped over by the author. While I do not know enough about the logistics of the plan to take a position for or against this logging action, I can say that it is definitely not restoring nature as it was when the park was constructed. What it is doing is restoring the image of the park as it existed when it was popularized and propagated via promotional pamphlets, artwork, movies, and televisions. The iconic image of Half Dome and El Capitan rising over the valley is what visitors expect. Many are consumers of the "postcard vista" idea of parks, best illustrated by Mount Rushmore, and are disappointed when they do not find it. While I find such people misguided, they are at least expecting something that has been protected to a small degree (though the Valley is in pretty poor shape) but has made possible the preservation of a much larger area. </digression>.
What do all of these things have in common? They all challenge ideas of what nature and wilderness are and how we think about the boundaries and interactions between our built environment and the "other" that lies outside our comfort zone. Going back to those historians, I believe it is White who has written how nature has been defined and redefined to constitute the "other" against which we define our culture and civilization. While there are many other "others" that mark boundaries between cultures, there is definite merit behind the idea of a shifting nature/man boundary that has moved as our social, aesthetic,and economic needs have changed. But that boundary is becoming more blurred and it is easy to look behind the label and examine how true or easily made those distinctions remain. What you see when you look can tell you a lot about your frame of reference, state of mind, and cultural values, and sometimes what you see might surprise you.
Update 9/20:
Apparently Memphis, Tennessee, is also under the impression that gardens are essentially stinking, unsightly wastelands that need to be scrubbed from the community. I really do not understand these people and have no idea what this neighbor could possibly be thinking. Only two things come to mind, neither flattering. One is a Stepford Wives dystopia and the other recalls the episode of The X-Files in which a garbage monster kills members of an HOA that do not conform to a ridiculously draconian code. These people need to grow up and start addressing real problems, not attacking people trying to live healthier, be outside, and give back to their community.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Four Quick Things
First a quick update: California's legislature has passed the ban on shark fins that I wrote about a few weeks ago. It is quite likely that Governor Jerry Brown signs it.
Second, Nicholas Kristof wrote a nice piece for the NYT on Sunday that brings up a point that is not discussed enough, namely the importance of actual outdoors experiences (wilderness or not) in building a constituency and support for environmental and conservation measures. While he doesn't get into the more complicated questions of socioeconomic privilege, class, and cultural constructions of nature that are increasingly present in American society (which I briefly mentioned near the end of this post) it is nice to see a major columnist talking about this often neglected aspect of environmental movement building.
Third, a student from my alma mater has written a very nice piece for the NYT's Green Blog about his experience with the Student Conservation Association working in the wilderness of Nevada's Basin and Range country. I have a number of friends who have done summer programs through them (or with state level equivalents) and all have loved the experience. If you get the chance you should look into it.
Finally, the weirdly named BOEMRE has apparently "accomplished what it set out to do" in cleaning up the regulatory mess left by the corrupt MMS and will be disbanded into other divisions of the Interior Department including the even newer (and less awkward) Bureau of Ocean Energy Management (BOEM) and the Bureau of Safety and Environmental Enforcement (BSEE). Only time will tell if this division makes the agency more effective at carrying out its mandates and less susceptible to industry capture.
Second, Nicholas Kristof wrote a nice piece for the NYT on Sunday that brings up a point that is not discussed enough, namely the importance of actual outdoors experiences (wilderness or not) in building a constituency and support for environmental and conservation measures. While he doesn't get into the more complicated questions of socioeconomic privilege, class, and cultural constructions of nature that are increasingly present in American society (which I briefly mentioned near the end of this post) it is nice to see a major columnist talking about this often neglected aspect of environmental movement building.
Third, a student from my alma mater has written a very nice piece for the NYT's Green Blog about his experience with the Student Conservation Association working in the wilderness of Nevada's Basin and Range country. I have a number of friends who have done summer programs through them (or with state level equivalents) and all have loved the experience. If you get the chance you should look into it.
Finally, the weirdly named BOEMRE has apparently "accomplished what it set out to do" in cleaning up the regulatory mess left by the corrupt MMS and will be disbanded into other divisions of the Interior Department including the even newer (and less awkward) Bureau of Ocean Energy Management (BOEM) and the Bureau of Safety and Environmental Enforcement (BSEE). Only time will tell if this division makes the agency more effective at carrying out its mandates and less susceptible to industry capture.
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Point Reyes
First off, apologies to anyone who is reading for not posting in a long time. I've been busy with a number of personal projects and other issues. It's summer now and I'm going to be making a concerted effort to do more posting more regularly.
One of the things I've been working on is some pro bono work for an environmental non profit called the Environmental Action Committee of West Marin on the Point Reyes National Seashore potential wilderness issue. Essentially the issue is this: when the park was created there was an oyster farm operating in Drake's Bay, within the boundary of the park with a lease set to expire in 2012. The enabling legislation for the National Seashore was accompanied by a committee report indicating that all commercial activity in the bay should eventually come to an end. The owners of the reservation for use and occupancy (RUO) sold their lease to the Drake's Bay Oyster Company (which knew full well of the limitations and timeline for termination). Upon the cessation of oyster farming and removal of commercial equipment, this part of the park would become officially designated wilderness (as legislatively determined). However, the DBOC successfully lobbied Sen. Diane Feinstein ("D"-CA and friend to corporate interests of all types) to insert a rider into an appropriations bill granting the Secretary of the Interior the discretion to issue a ten year extension (called a special use permit) of the lease. For more detail on the history of this issue, see the NPS' background page or the EACMarin website.
Under federal law, whenever an agency takes an action that might have environmental effects, it must complete an environmental impact statement (EAS) in fulfillment of its duties under the National Environmental Policy Act (NEPA).* NEPA, however, is merely a procedural statute; it does not determine outcome. The important thing is that the process is done properly and with a full review of relevant facts and meaningful input and feedback from the public. Once the EIS is complete, the Secretary can issue a decision.
What I have been doing is providing background and assistance on NEPA and challenges to a decision made under NEPA as well as providing my opinion on various aspects of the public comment process that goes into developing the EIS. The comment period has closed, now is the time to wait for the agency's decision, continue to pressure it in appropriate ways, and prepare for potential legal challenges to the outcome (there will certainly be a legal challenge either way but because of the deference courts generally give to agencies, especially regarding scientific findings in areas of agency expertise, the agency action will likely be upheld). Still, I will update once there is a resolution.
*This is, of course, an oversimplification. There are different levels of review and different types of findings, but the need for an EIS is the only relevant issue here.
One of the things I've been working on is some pro bono work for an environmental non profit called the Environmental Action Committee of West Marin on the Point Reyes National Seashore potential wilderness issue. Essentially the issue is this: when the park was created there was an oyster farm operating in Drake's Bay, within the boundary of the park with a lease set to expire in 2012. The enabling legislation for the National Seashore was accompanied by a committee report indicating that all commercial activity in the bay should eventually come to an end. The owners of the reservation for use and occupancy (RUO) sold their lease to the Drake's Bay Oyster Company (which knew full well of the limitations and timeline for termination). Upon the cessation of oyster farming and removal of commercial equipment, this part of the park would become officially designated wilderness (as legislatively determined). However, the DBOC successfully lobbied Sen. Diane Feinstein ("D"-CA and friend to corporate interests of all types) to insert a rider into an appropriations bill granting the Secretary of the Interior the discretion to issue a ten year extension (called a special use permit) of the lease. For more detail on the history of this issue, see the NPS' background page or the EACMarin website.
Under federal law, whenever an agency takes an action that might have environmental effects, it must complete an environmental impact statement (EAS) in fulfillment of its duties under the National Environmental Policy Act (NEPA).* NEPA, however, is merely a procedural statute; it does not determine outcome. The important thing is that the process is done properly and with a full review of relevant facts and meaningful input and feedback from the public. Once the EIS is complete, the Secretary can issue a decision.
What I have been doing is providing background and assistance on NEPA and challenges to a decision made under NEPA as well as providing my opinion on various aspects of the public comment process that goes into developing the EIS. The comment period has closed, now is the time to wait for the agency's decision, continue to pressure it in appropriate ways, and prepare for potential legal challenges to the outcome (there will certainly be a legal challenge either way but because of the deference courts generally give to agencies, especially regarding scientific findings in areas of agency expertise, the agency action will likely be upheld). Still, I will update once there is a resolution.
*This is, of course, an oversimplification. There are different levels of review and different types of findings, but the need for an EIS is the only relevant issue here.
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