SAN FRANCISCO — On the Chinese calendar, this week ushers in the year of the dragon. But here, it feels a lot more like the year of the wolf.

Richard Cockle/The Oregonian, via Associated Press

John Stephenson, a biologist, measured the stride of the gray wolf known as OR7 in Crater Lake National Forest, Ore., in December. More Photos »

On Dec. 28, a 2 1/2 -year-old gray wolf crossed the state line from Oregon, becoming the first of his species to run wild here in 88 years.

His arrival has prompted news articles, attracted feverish fans and sent wildlife officials scrambling to prepare for a new and unfamiliar predator.

“California has more people with more opinions than other states,” said Mark Stopher, senior policy adviser for the California Department of Fish and Game. “We have people calling, saying we should find him a girlfriend as soon as possible and let them settle down. Some people say we should clear humans out of parts of the state and make a wolf sanctuary.”

The wolf, known to biologists as OR7, owes his fame to the GPS collar around his neck, which has allowed scientists and fans alike to use maps to follow his 1,000-mile, lovelorn trek south from his birthplace in northeastern Oregon.

Along the way, OR7 has accrued an almost cultlike status.

“People are going to get wolf tattoos, wolf sweaters, wolf key chains, wolf hats,” said Patrick Valentino, a board member with the California Wolf Center, a nonprofit advocacy and education organization.

In Oregon, students participated in art contests to draw OR7’s likeness and a competition to rename him (the winner: “Journey”). This month, people across the country attended full-moon, candlelight wolf vigils organized by groups with names like Howl Across America and Wolf Warriors.

As with seemingly all wayward and famous animals these days, the wolf has a lively virtual existence on social networking sites like Twitter, where at least two Twitter accounts have been posting from the wolf’s perspective.

“Left family to find wife & new home. eHarmony just wasn’t working for me,” read one Twitter profile. Another account, which describes the wolf’s hobbies as “wandering, ungulates,” recently had in a post: “Why is everyone so worried about my love life?”

The wolf’s presence has also set off more practical responses from state wildlife officials, who are hustling to prepare for what they now see as the inevitability of wild gray wolves here.

In mid-January, the California Department of Fish and Game put up a gray wolf Web site that includes a map of OR7’s trek and a 36-page explainer on the species. The department has already begun a series of public meetings with local governments in the state’s northern counties, where wolves are most likely to take up residence first.

Biologists say that OR7 is unlikely to survive long hunting alone without a pack and that it could be as many as 10 years before wild wolf packs roam northern California. Still, state and federal wildlife officials met Friday to discuss a strategy for wolves.

Next month, state biologists will get training by the Agriculture Department to identify livestock killed by wolves.

Once widespread across much of the country, gray wolves were nearly extinct in the contiguous United States by the early 20th century, killed by government trappers, ranchers and hunters. In 1974, the gray wolf was listed as endangered under the newly established Endangered Species Act. Then in 1995 and 1996 wildlife officials released 66 Canadian wolves into Yellowstone National Park and central Idaho, an area that is now home to nearly 1,700 wolves.

Wolves have been remarkably successful in reinhabiting their old terrain. In recent years regulators removed wolves from the endangered list for much of the northern Rocky Mountains and Great Lakes regions. In Idaho and Montana, they can be legally hunted.

In California, gray wolves remain protected under federal law, and the recent appearance of one has flared up large predator agita among ranchers.

“I’m afraid somebody will step up and take this wolf’s life in their own hands,” said Darrell Wood, a cattle rancher. “There are huge state and federal penalties for killing a wolf.”

Mr. Wood’s family has been raising cattle in Lassen County — where OR7 is now and where the state’s last wolf was shot in 1924 — for six generations. “I just hope it wasn’t a relative of mine who shot him,” said Mr. Wood, 56.

Other area residents seemed more interested in the wolf’s place in the mythological pantheon. “What’s next, sparkly vampires?” asked a commenter on a Lassen County Times article about the wolf, an apparent reference to “Twilight,” the vampire and werewolf series.

Ardent wolf fandom and ire do not surprise Ed Bangs, the federal Fish and Wildlife Service’s recently retired wolf recovery coordinator. “When wolves come back, one side says it’s the end of civilization, our children will be dragged down at the bus stop,” he said. “The other side thinks nature is finally back in balance and can we all have a group hug now.”

California will see the same divisions, said Mr. Bangs, who in his 30 years in gray wolf management attended hundreds of contentious meetings with residents, ranchers and environmentalists.

“I like to say wolves are boring,” he said, “but people are fascinating.”

The release is on the front page of the San Luis Obispo Tribune: I posted my own photos on my blog.

Rascal, a rare Guadalupe fur seal yearling, and Beige, a California sea lion juvenile, headed for the sea Wednesday at Leffingwell Landing in Cambria after being treated at The Marine Mammal Center in Sausalito.

Beige had been spotted Jan. 7 by equestrians riding in Montaña de Oro State Park. Rascal was rescued a day later from Coleman Beach in Bodega Bay.

Anyone who’s been stung by a bee knows they can inflict an outsized pain for such tiny insects. It makes a strange kind of sense, then, that their demise would create an outsized problem for the food system by placing the more than 70 cropsthey pollinate — from almonds to apples to blueberries — in peril.

Although news about Colony Collapse Disorder (CCD) has died down, commercial beekeepers have seen average population losses of about 30 percent each year since 2006, said Paul Towers, of the Pesticide Action Network. Towers was one of the organizers of a conference that brought together beekeepers and environmental groups this week to tackle the challenges facing the beekeeping industry and the agricultural economy by proxy.

“We are inching our way toward a critical tipping point,” said Steve Ellis, secretary of the National Honey Bee Advisory Board (NHBAB) and a beekeeper for 35 years. Last year he had so many abnormal bee die-offs that he’ll qualify for disaster relief from the U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA).

In addition to continued reports of CCD — a still somewhat mysterious phenomenon in which entire bee colonies literally disappear, alien-abduction style, leaving not even their dead bodies behind — bee populations are suffering poor health in general, and experiencing shorter life spans and diminished vitality. And while parasites, pathogens, and habitat loss can deal blows to bee health, research increasingly points to pesticides as the primary culprit.

“In the industry we believe pesticides play an important role in what’s going on,” said Dave Hackenberg, co-chair of the NHBAB and a beekeeper in Pennsylvania.

Of particular concern is a group of pesticides, chemically similar to nicotine, called neonicotinoids (neonics for short), and one in particular called clothianidin. Instead of being sprayed, neonics are used to treat seeds, so that they’re absorbed by the plant’s vascular system, and then end up attacking the central nervous systems of bees that come to collect pollen. Virtually all of today’s genetically engineered Bt corn is treated with neonics. The chemical industry alleges that bees don’t like to collect corn pollen, but new research shows that not only do bees indeed forage in corn, but they also have multiple other routes of exposure to neonics.

The Purdue University study, published in the journal PLoS ONE, found high levels of clothianidin in planter exhaust spewed during the spring sowing of treated maize seed. It also found neonics in the soil of unplanted fields nearby those planted with Bt corn, on dandelions growing near those fields, in dead bees found near hive entrances, and in pollen stored in the hives.

Evidence already pointed to the presence of neonic-contaminated pollen as a factor in CCD. As Hackenberg explained, “The insects start taking [the pesticide] home, and it contaminates everywhere the insect came from.” These new revelations about the pervasiveness of neonics in bees’ habitats only strengthen the case against using the insecticides.

The irony, of course, is that farmers use these chemicals to protect their crops from destructive insects, but in so doing, they harm other insects essential to their crops’ production — a catch-22 that Hackenberg said speaks to the fact that “we have become a nation driven by the chemical industry.” In addition to beekeeping, he owns two farms, and even when crop analysts recommend spraying pesticides on his crops to kill an aphid population, for example, he knows that “if I spray, I’m going to kill all the beneficial insects.” But most farmers, lacking Hackenberg’s awareness of bee populations, follow the advice of the crop adviser — who, these days, is likely to be paid by the chemical industry, rather than by a state university or another independent entity.

Beekeepers have already teamed up with groups representing the almond and blueberry industries — both of which depend on honey bee pollination — to tackle the need for education among farmers. “A lot of [farm groups] are recognizing that we need more resources devoted to pollinator protection,” Ellis said. “We need that same level of commitment on a national basis, from our USDA and EPA and the agricultural chemical industry.”

Unfortunately, it was the EPA itself that green-lit clothianidin and other neonics for commercial use, despite its own scientists’ clear warnings about the chemicals’ effects on bees and other pollinators. That doesn’t bode well for the chances of getting neonics off the market now, even in light of the Purdue study’s findings.

“The agency has, in most cases, sided with pesticide manufacturers and worked to fast-track the approval of new products, and failed in cases when there’s clear evidence of harm to take those products off the market,” Towers said.

Since this is an election year — a time when no one wants to make Big Ag (and its money) mad — beekeepers may have to suffer another season of losses before there’s any hope of action on the EPA’s part. But when one out of every three bites of food on Americans’ plates results directly from honey bee pollination, there’s no question that the fate of these insects will determine our own as eaters.

Ellis, for his part, thinks that figuring out a way to solve the bee crisis could be a catalyst for larger reform within our agriculture system. “If we can protect that pollinator base, it’s going to have ripple effects … for wildlife, for human health,” he said. “It will bring up subjects that need to be looked at, of groundwater and surface water — all the connected subjects associated [with] chemical use and agriculture.”

Claire Thompson is an editorial assistant at Grist.

A bill filed by a Senate budget subcommittee chairman would prohibit the Public Service Commission from allowing private utilities to charge customers higher rates for using large amounts of  water.

SB 1244 appears aimed at Aqua Utilities Florida, the largest private water utility in Florida. But the bill is raising broader concerns among some environmentalists who say it could be a warning against utilities that want to promote water conservation.

Some water experts say charging people more per gallon for using large amounts of water encourages conservation and keeps water affordable for low-income families.

For example, the city of Tallahassee charges 14 cents per 100 gallons for the first 7,000 gallons of water used each month. That increases from 19 cents per 100 gallons for more than 7,000 gallons to 24 cents per 100 gallons for more than 20,000 gallons per month.

SB 1244 would prohibit the PSC from approving tiered water rates based on consumption. The bill was filed by Sen. Alan Hays, R-Umatilla and chairman of the Senate Budget Subcommittee on General Government Appropriations.

“This bill is directed towards a practice of conservation rates that I think are obscene and predatory,” Hays said. “And I don’t want to have any of my constituents subjected to such a rip-off. It is my plan to stop it.”

The PSC only regulates private utilities, so customers of Tallahassee and other publicly owned utilities would not be affected. Florida has 158 investor-owned water utilities serving 124,619 water customers in 36 counties, according to the PSC.

Eric Draper, executive director of Audubon of Florida, said the bill would seem to eliminate an important incentive for water conservation. He had not seen the bill before being contacted by The Florida Current.

“The most important thing we can do for water in the state of Florida is to encourage people to conserve more,” he said. “Water conservation rates are the primary tool used by utilities in order to encourage people to conserve water.”

Hays said the state should fine people if they’re wasting water rather than let companies generate revenue by charging higher rates based on consumption.

Aqua Utilities Florida Inc. has 23,000 water customers, with most of its water systems located in Central Florida. The company’s rate increase request last year before the Public Service Commission spilled over into the 2011 legislative session when bills were proposed that would allow utilities to charge customers in advance for water system upgrades.

The company requested a $4.1 million rate boost, and a decision by the PSC is expected next month. Hundreds of people attended PSC public hearings last year holding signs and complaining about bad water quality and poor customer service.

SB 1244 requires that water provided by utilities be “reasonably free from objectionable taste, color, odor, or sand or other sediment.” Utilities can be fined by the PSC for failing to provide satisfactory service.

The bill also would prohibit utilities from recovering more than 50 percent of the rate case expense or from recovering expenses from more than one rate case at a time. The bill also would establish a study committee on investor-owned water and wastewater utility systems.

Asked if the bill was aimed at Aqua Utilities, Hays said, “I don’t care what the name of the company is; I detest the practice of ripping people off this way.”

For about three years, a small, committed group of Cambrians have spoken loudly, factually, and often eloquently against drilling on the beach, at the mouth of Santa Rosa Creek, in pursuit of desalination.The creek/lagoon is a highly environmentally sensitive area. In fact, it is a protected natural preserve. It would stand to reason that a careful environmental impact report would be prepared for any project in such an area. Or, better yet, that no project be done there at all.
So that’s what the Cambria Community Services District did, right?
Well . . . no. Their original plan was to categorically exempt themselves from any CEQA (California Environmental Quality Act) review. (Cambria Activists_and_Mercury_Put_Desal_Plan_in_Retrogade.pdf ) In January 2010, the CCSD called a special meeting to announce that, together with the Army Corps of Engineers, geotechnical drilling would take place in front of Shamel County Park and on Santa Rosa Creek Beach—very fast. Within two months. The meeting announcement was poorly timed (over the New Year’s weekend), given on unusually short-notice, and the work strangely immediate. It all gave the impression that they hoped the public would have no time to object. (They have never explained, to this very day, how, when, or by whom the site was chosen.) When lots of people showed up and registered lots of objections anyway, the CCSD withdrew that tactic and tried instead for a Negative Declaration — far from ideal in the opinion of most environmentalists, but at least it’s a type of CEQA review. As such, it involves allowing both citizens and public agencies to respond.
Citizen letters aside, the project received detailed comments from such agencies as the State Department of Fish and Game, U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service, the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, the California Department of Parks and Recreation, the Native American Heritage Commission, and the County Air Pollution Control District, to name just a few.
Their concerns included public safety, endangered species, mercury hazards, loss of public access, loss of access to a children’s playground, construction on the beach, vehicles on the beach, and piecemealing environmental review by separating the drilling plan from the actual desalination plant.
Those are big hurdles to any project.
So what did the CCSD do? They announced that the geotesting (drilling for paleochannels under the sand that might support a subsurface desal intake) was not their project at all, but the Army Corp of Engineers’ project. Completely. Retroactively. I’m not sure exactly how that works, but it seemed to involve careful phrasing. They were not “turning the project over” to the Army Corps of Engineers. Rather, they contended, they’d discovered the overlooked fact that it always had been the ACE’s project. Oh, right, and that it’s not a “project.” It’s only an “investigation.” One envisions the Army Corps going down to the beach to ask the sand a few questions.
In truth, it was a bit more invasive. It involved drilling a number of wells — as deep as 150 feet — and lining them with PVC pipe, which would later have to be augured out. As much as could be augured, anyway. The bulk of the thousands of pounds of shards would then be sifted out of the sand. Oh, and then the plan was to build a desal plant nearby, but the two objectives were artificially separated at this point, because there’s no way to make Cambria’s desal plant federal.
Having federalized the project to their own satisfaction, the CCSD then abandoned CEQA review. Because CEQA is a state process. The ACE would now conduct a NEPA review, the federal version. Except all the ACE did toward an environmental impact report was simply to grant themselves a categorical exclusion from NEPA.
The next sound heard around Cambria was that of heads exploding.
I want to note that I’ve read the NEPA handbook for citizens. Categorical exclusion was intended for such minimal-impact projects as outhouses and hiking trails, or changing all the light bulbs in a public building to more environmentally friendly ones.
Now, you can imagine that concerned Cambrians felt we’d been the victim of an end run around California environmental law.  21,000-pound drill rigs were about to roll onto a beach that’s so delicate it won’t even tolerate my 15-pound leashed dog. (And, being a law-abiding citizen, I trust that this rule exists for a reason and don’t take her there.)  Our last line of defense seemed to be the California Coastal Commission, which had been stripped of its jurisdiction to grant or deny a coastal development permit, since this was being passed off as a federal project. The CCC could only declare the “investigation” consistent or inconsistent with the California Coastal Act.
In May 2010, the commission conditionally allowed the drilling. I’m not entirely sure what happened, though I attended — and spoke at — that meeting. (Although we later found out that only the CCC staff — not the commissioners — had seen the agency and public letters of objection.) Also unsure as to what had happened was Commissioner Esther Sanchez, who spoke eloquently against allowing the project.
When I emailed later to thank her, she sent me a rather stunning personal reply that stated, among other things, “It was as if no one wanted to listen to the problems that I saw with this item.  I took the time to look at the record — specifically searching for the information upon which staff would have relied in making recommendations that the drilling was consistent with our state’s laws — and found the record wholly lacking. It was as if we were supposed to take staff’s ‘word for it.’ I was equally disappointed that some of my colleagues seemed to just want to move on and not take the time to ensure that in fact there was a basis for a decision of consistency.
“I believe it was and is incontrovertible that this is an environmentally sensitive area. I wonder if staff had not been so openly controversial whether others would have joined me. I have discussed the matter with the executive director, as I do believe that staff, including the commission’s attorney, interfered (perhaps unlawfully) with a constitutionally protected right, a right guaranteed by the Coastal Act.”
That seemed to say it all, yet no one was listening.
What could have been a huge environmental loss took an unexpected turn when Nick Franco of State Parks refused to grant the ACE a right of entry permit. I was there at the meeting of the State Parks Commission when he stated, simply but importantly, “No CEQA, no right of entry.” The State Park commissioners were 100% behind him. In fact, one commissioner’s jaw dropped, and she remarked, “You mean they thought they could go out on that state beach without CEQA?”
Yeah. Amazing, isn’t it? That’s what we thought.
Another crucial puzzle piece fell into place at that meeting. The waters off that section of Cambria coast were declared California’s first marine park. We were elated, yet did not know how crucial to the story that decision would later become.
The CCSD was not pleased. In fact, director Muril Clift drew a line in the sand at the next CCSD meeting, blustering that they (State Parks) are “no friend,” and that we should consider that in all of our dealings with them. His short speech [see video below] speaks volumes to the CCSD’s stance on environmental laws, which it seems to regard as little tricks up the sleeves of its enemies. It also seems wrong to brand someone an enemy for not giving you what you want, especially when they’ve determined that what you want is not procedurally legal and correct. But I guess that’s another rant for another day.
Questionably, in my (and many other peoples’) opinion, County Parks granted right of entry. The ACE rolled onto the beach in front of Shamel Park  . . .  and promptly hit bedrock at 24 feet(75-foot channels had been predicted there). Eyes turned back to the sensitive lagoon area of the state park beach. This part of the story gets really interesting and . . . dare I say . . . funny.
State Parks managed to prove that the area was a protected natural preserve. (Then-president of the CCSD, Greg Sanders, had insisted on referring to it as “the so-called natural preserve.”) It was protected all the way down to the mean high tide line. And no motor vehicles are allowed in a natural preserve.
Here’s where it gets funny (except for the level at which it’s too disrespectful to be funny). A plan was devised for Amish work horses to be trailered in. To pull a drill rig onto the sand on a type of sled. Know how you can tell I’m not making this stuff up? Because you can’t make up stuff like that, that’s how. I’m a fiction writer, and even I couldn’t have made that up.
Word had it that someone with State Parks in Sacramento was considering going over Nick Franco’s head. But when the CCSD/ACE came up with the idea to hover over the beach with a helicopter and lower a drill rig, patience seemed to run out in the state capital as well.
Did it ever occur to anyone on the pro side of this project that drill rigs are motorized, and do far more harm than the tires of a pickup truck? And that maybe Amish work horses pulling a sled weren’t listed as prohibited only because no one had the imagination to envision that such a threat even existed?
But back to my story.
So the CCSD gave up. Right? You don’t know the CCSD very well.
The CCSD and the ACE came back with a plan to drill below the mean high tide line. Which put it in our new marine park. Where it doesn’t appear legal to try to place any sort of wells or desal intake/outfall systems.
Undeterred, the CCSD — oops, I’m sorry, I mean the ACE (I keep forgetting whose project this is) — headed off for a brand spanking new Coastal Commission consistency determination.  They had scaled the project down considerably. On the one hand, it could be argued that this made the investigation slightly less harmful. It also raised the argument that the investigation might now be quite useless.

[Note: This is an admittedly brief history of a very complex situation. It may be hard to do it justice in so few words. I hope if you're interested you'll go out to the Cambria Water Watch website - Cambria Water Watch - and read up on the background of this mess. The Water Watch site (disclaimer: I help maintain it) links its statements to source material. If it says there was a letter from Fish & Game, for example, it links to a PDF of the letter. The page entitled "More Information" is a particularly rich source of documentation.]

The consistency hearing was scheduled for December 9th. On December 8th, the ACE got together with Coastal Commission staff and lined out most of the stipulated protections. In retrospect, that might have been pushing the envelope.
The project was unanimously denied by the 11-member Coastal Commission.
But even better was the way it was denied. Not only did the commissioners (a couple of whom generally support desalination) call the site inappropriate, they suggested this was an end run around California environmental law.
Right. Exactly what all us “crazy” Cambrians have been saying since the play was run.
Commissioner Steve Blank asked, “Is this an end run around our process?” and “Isn’t this just a way to take it out of our jurisdiction?” He suggested, ”  . . .  raising red flags with our legal staff and thinking about what the issues are here, because I think they’re bigger than—much bigger than—Cambria.” Other commissioners said, “There’s just no way around that this site — this beach, this creek mouth, is an environmentally sensitive area by any standard,” and, “In my mind, there isn’t a section of Chapter Three  [of the Coastal Act] this doesn’t go against.” And, “This project represents an avoidance of proper procedures.” And, “The risks of the testing alone are substantial.” And, “Page after page of conditions that are almost standard conditions in any action we take . . .  we want to make sure that the public is safe and the noise is diminished, and all of those were gone.” And, “It really smells of going around the system.”
It was a wonderful moment for the Cambrians who have been shouting these same words for several years now and feeling as though no one cared to listen.
At the December CCSD meeting, district engineer Bob Gresens claimed there had been some confusion among the commissioners, and some kind of disconnect of logic in their decision. I think it goes without saying that the logic involved in this story disconnects somewhere, but I don’t agree that the problem took place at the Coastal Commission level.
But don’t take my word for it. Complete video of the commissioners’ comments are available on the home page of Cambria Water Watch. Watch and listen, and decide for yourself if the commissioners seem confused or if they seem to have an excellent grasp of what’s really going on.

Cambria Environmentalist Mickie Burton sent this Christmas card to those who
had worked to protect this beautiful and important piece of coastline. (Photo by Joe Johnston)

The animals rejoice. And so do we, on their behalf. At least for the time being.

Barnett is author of “Blue Revolution: Unmaking America’s Water Crisis.” It’s an important new book that challenges Americans to transform their views of water to protect and sustain a resource that is so important to people, the economy and the environment.

Her book follows her 2007 book “Mirage: Florida and the Vanishing Water of the Eastern U.S.” Mirage created the realization that water wars, droughts and vanishing supplies are issues no longer confined to arid Western states.

Four years before Mirage, Barnett had just earned her master’s degree in environmental history at the University of Florida. Among the books she had read was “Land into Water — Water into Land: A History of Water Management in Florida” by Nelson Manfred Blake.

Barnett said the book, published in 1980, described how developers throughout Florida’s history had “got rid of water, got rid of water, got rid of water.”

She also was working as an associate editor at the business magazine Florida Trend (which is owned by the Times). She said she was “writing stories about how developers are desperate to find water, find water, find water.”

“It was with that specific irony that the same guys who got rid of it all got desperate to find it,” Barnett told the attendees at the Society of Environmental Journalists national conference in Miami on Oct. 25.

But it was the St. Pete Times article — and watching the loss of her clear, bubbling springs in north Florida, that provided that extra motivation to focus on water threats, she said.

Times writers Craig Pittman and Julie Hauserman wrote the page 1A story “North has it, South wants it” telling how the Florida Council of 100 business group in 2003 was working on a recommendation to then-Gov. Jeb Bush to redirect water from slow-growing, water-rich North Florida to booming Central and South Florida.

“They wanted to move water from the north to South Florida or Central Florida to replenish what they had drained,” Barnett said. “That single story got me so insane that I went on to spend the next eight years of my life writing water books.”

In researching “Blue Revolution,” Barnett traveled around the United States and the world exploring places where people are conserving and protecting water or are looking for more. She paints no one as saints or villains, just players in a system where too much authority has been turned over to utilities, power companies and engineers. We use water with wasteful abundance in some areas when it is tragically lacking in other areas.

It’s an amazing book and is amazingly well-written. It ties history and policy-making with water disasters around the world, such as the disappearing Aral Sea in Central Asia or the Colorado River as it disappears, never making it to the sea.

In the Netherlands, she explores how the Dutch created engineering marvels and disasters along its coastline. In Singapore, the island nation has created a water ethic that led to reducing pollution, reusing treated wastewater and cleaning up waterways. But farmers were moved off their lands and the nation’s residents lost touch as their natural waterways were viewed as enemies.

Barnett drills down into the politics, economics and seeming corruption that drive the “water-industrial complex” in this country. The water industry drives us towards engineered solutions rather than low-tech adaptations towards living lightly on the land.

In her firm but polite and well-researched way, Barnett touches everyone’s lives, making us think about how our ignorance or how our religious views of the end of the world may shape our living now. And she makes us think about how our hurried lives separate us from knowing life’s crucial resource and where it comes from.

But she offers so much more for the reader to take away than self-loathing or condemnation of others.

Her writing encourages us all to learn about our sources of water — to explore our own neighborhood frog creeks from where they begin as a trickle on the land to where they end in a bay or ocean.

“The blue revolution is a reconnection to water,” she writes. “It gives children more natural waters to play in — flowing springs and rivers. It alters the way our communities look: More meandering streams, less concrete. More natural wetlands thronged by living things, fewer chain-lined retention ponds. More green roofs, less asphalt. More shade trees, less open lawn. More plant buffers to filter rain, fewer stagnant stormwater basins. More community farms, less industrial irrigation.”

Her idea of a “water ethic” is borrowed from Aldo Leopold’s “land ethic” in his landmark conservation book “A Sand County Almanac.” The land ethic was first applied by his hydrologist son, Luna, to water.

And Barnett ends her book by acknowledging Luna Leopold’s “acid test of leadership” on environmental issues and describing how that begins with the individual, be they a homeowner, a water engineer or a member of Congress.

“The water ethic begins with that one, brave steward,” she writes. “Then, it spreads out into the community, building collective courage among citizens, businesspeople, church members, political leaders. Just like ripples of children playing in a wide, free river.”

Inspired by the journalism of others, Barnett is creating a new brand of environmental journalism that will inspire others.

(Photos courtesy of Beacon Press. Story copyrighted by Bruce Ritchie and Floridaenvironments.com. Do not copy or redistribute without permission, which can be obtained from brucebritchie@gmail.com)

Marine biologists are turning to citizen scientists, sitting at home in front of their computers, to help unlock the secrets of whale songs.

In Pixar’s aquatic adventure Finding Nemo, Dory, voiced by Ellen DeGeneres, attempts to communicate with a whale to find the missing title character. She speaks in a loud, slow drawl to the whale, but when that fails, she says, “Maybe a different dialect.”

“We actually know that killer whales do use dialects,” marine biologist Peter Tyack tells Weekend Edition host Audie Cornish. Despite the tongue-in-cheek depiction of whale songs, Tyack says the film got it right.

“We don’t know what the sounds mean, but each killer whale family has its own set of calls, like a dialect in human language,” he says.

Tyack, a marine biologist at the University of St. Andrews, is also a coordinator of Whale FM, a new online experiment that’s recruiting citizen scientists to study killer and pilot whale calls from around the world.

“The experiment is the first step in understanding how these whales communicate,” he says. “The first thing we need to know is how to categorize their calls.”

His research team needs help to sort through almost 15,000 different sound recordings and group similar ones together. That’s where you, the citizen scientist, come in.

Tyack’s team is counting on whale-song lovers to log on to Whale FM and listen to sounds of various whales calling to each other.

Tyack says much about whale communication remains a mystery for scientists, and he hopes crowdsourcing this new study may lead to some answers.

“We share a mammalian hearing system with killer whales and we think that lots of people, just using their own ears, should be able to make good matches of these calls,” he says. “And the more people who decide, the better sense we get of how reliable their judgments are.”

In the end, Tyack says, one of the major parts of the crowdsourcing concept of the project is to promote the fact that anyone can take part in science.