Legal opinion cuts path for TWRA forest clearing in White County’s Bridgestone wilderness area despite local opposition

This story was originally published by Tennessee Lookout.

A controversial plan by the Tennessee Wildlife Resources Agency officials to clearcut forest in a popular hunting, hiking and recreation area in order to create habitat for Northern bobwhite quail has gotten a legal go-ahead, despite opposition from residents and local leaders in White County, a bipartisan group of lawmakers and environmental groups.

The 16,000-acre Bridgestone Firestone Centennial Wilderness Area, a forested area adjacent to Fall Creek Falls State Park and Virgin Falls State Natural Area, was a late 1990’s gift to the state from the tire company that came with certain strings attached, including that state officials “preserve the property predominantly in its present condition as a wilderness area.”

The Tennessee Wildlife Federation was charged with ensuring the state honors those conditions.

On Friday, a spokeswoman for the Tennessee Wildlife Federation confirmed that outside legal counsel hired to review the state’s clearcutting plan found it “meets the requirements” of the gift.

“Speaking broadly as a conservation nonprofit, we have supported throughout our 75-year history the science-based, proactive management of lands to maintain or restore diverse habitats and diverse wildlife,” Kate Hill, a Tennessee Wildlife Federation spokeswoman, said via email. “The fact is savannas are an endangered habitat in the Southeast that were once common and provided essential habitat to many species across Tennessee.”

Neither the Tennessee Wildlife Federation nor the Tennessee Wildlife Resources Agency has communicated the outcome of the legal review to local residents, who have complained for months that they have been kept in the dark and offered no meaningful opportunity to weigh in on plans to radically alter a landscape that is both beloved and central to the local economy.

Personal climate-change remedies have a wide cumulative impact and are part of the solution, so don’t give up

Tom Ptak is assistant professor of Geography and Environmental Studies at Texas State University. This story was originally published by The Conversation.

The average American’s everyday interactions with energy sources are limited. They range from turning appliances on or off, to commuting, to paying utility bills.

The connections between those acts and rising global temperatures may seem distant.

However, individuals hold many keys to unlocking solutions to climate change — the biggest challenge our species currently faces — which is perhaps why the fossil fuel industry spent decades misleading and misinforming the public about it.

I’m an assistant professor of geography and environmental studies at Texas State University. My research explores how geography affects the complex relationships between societies, energy and contemporary environmental challenges. I’ve found that the human element is critical for developing creative, effective and sustainable solutions to climate challenges.

There’s a large and growing body of evidence showing that individuals can have a major impact on climate change in a number of ways. Citizen action can compel utilities to increase renewable energy and governments to enact strong climate action laws. When enough individuals make changes that lower daily household energy consumption, huge emissions reductions can result. Consumer demand can compel businesses to pursue climate and environmental sustainability.

These actions combined could bridge the “emissions gap”: the significant difference between the greenhouse gas emissions expected globally and how much they need to drop in the next few decades to avoid catastrophic climate change.

UT Libraries history project records recollections and remembrances of terrible Smokies wildfires

The results of an ambitious effort by University of Tennessee Libraries to capture the history and personal memories of the devastating 2016 Great Smoky Mountains wildfires are now accessible online five years after the disaster.

The Smokies fires of 2016, which came to a horrible head over that Thanksgiving weekend, killed at least 14 people and countless domestic pets and wild animals. Gale-driven flames burned through thousands of acres in the national park before escaping the boundary and destroying thousands of homes and other structures in Pigeon Forge, Gatlinburg and smaller communities throughout Sevier County.

“The social, cultural, economic, political, and natural impacts of this event are still being calculated,” according to UT Libraries.

Rising from the Ashes: The Chimney Tops 2 Wildfires Oral History Project, organized with the city of Gatlinburg and the Anna Porter library, collected 140 video and audio interviews with those impacted by the fires, including survivors, government leaders, first responders, scientists, clergy, journalists and mental health experts.

“This project documents one of the most momentous events in modern Tennessee history — in the voices of those who lived it,” said Steve Smith, dean of the UT Libraries in a news release.

“The collected stories document more than tragedy, however; they testify to the resilience of the human spirit. Our team is honored to help preserve these stories for history, study, learning, and research.”

All interviews are preserved within the UT Libraries’ Betsey B. Creekmore Special Collections and University Archives.

The 2016 Thanksgiving wildfire, which began on the Chimneys deep within the national park, was the largest in the eastern U.S. since the 1940s. It burned 17,000 acres, injured at least 200 people and forced the evacuation of thousands, according to UT Libraries. 

“Visitors to the Rising from the Ashes website can approach the topic through different lenses such as the evacuation efforts, the disaster response and recovery, or the ecological impact; hear from medical personnel, business owners, or individuals directly affected by the wildfires; or simply browse through the recorded interviews,” according to a release announcing the final posting of the project.

News Sentinel: Forest life blossoms five years after devastating Smokies wildfires

Researchers are tallying recovering species and noting some surprises five years after deadly wildfires tore through Great Smoky Mountains National Park and adjacent communities, according to News Sentinel science writer Vincent Gabrielle.

Fire-dependent species such as the table mountain pine are seizing new land as a result of the wildfires, and some scientists have been surprised by the proliferation of chestnut saplings. Those saplings are the progeny of remaining chestnut root systems, though few if any survive to maturity. The chestnut was largely eliminated from the American landscape more than 100 years ago by a blight that eliminated one of the most productive mast species in the Southern Appalachians.

Scientists are also intrigued by the reappearance of certain fungi decimated by the 2016 fires, which originated near the Chimneys and ultimately spread up Bullhead and then down into Twin Creeks and the surrounding developed communities. Fifteen people were killed and thousands of structures destroyed.

A lot of Smokies habitat is fire dependent, but few wildfires have been allowed to burn in the backcountry over the history of the park. The fire and its aftermath provide researchers a unique opportunity to determine the effects the fire had on the natural landscape and accompanying plants, fungi, trees and animals.

UTK students wax eloquent on the environmental issues that confront us every day

University of Tennessee journalism professor Mark Littmann asks students in his environmental writing class every semester to write short sketches about environmental issues they may witness during any given day. Such an assignment requires an almost poetical approach.

We published one such UTK environmental writing sketch last spring, the infamous story of the orphaned mayonnaise jar of Fort Sanders, and Hellbender Press decided to go with three this fall, because they are that good.

The disposable containers

It is Friday afternoon and the mother of three is at the grocery self-checkout buying her family’s food for the week. Her squeaky, gray shopping cart is domed with 12-packs of Coke, single-serve yogurt, single-packaged snacks, and the typical food staples that her children beg her for. She likes purchasing the individually packed snacks because they fit perfectly in the paper bag school lunches that she gives to her kids every day. That is the beauty of convenience.

Double bag the milk. The eggs and sliced bread get their own bag. Frozen foods are to be separated. She continues to place her cardboard-boxed foods in the plastic bags handily provided to her. The mother pays for her food and crumples her receipt.

When she gets home, she piles her grocery bags on her kitchen island. Carefully taking out each item she bought, she throws the plastic bags on the side counter out of her way. What is she supposed to do with these?

Her kids rush indoors as they get dropped off from school, ready for the weekend. They raid the fridge and each cracks open a chilled can of Coke. It is their favorite drink while they watch the afternoon cartoons. The half-empty cans sit on the coffee table for days before they are emptied.

The mother wonders why her trash bins fill up before the garbage men come each week. She thinks maybe she should start looking into buying Tupperware that will help with that, but washing dishes seems like such a hassle for a mother of three.

That is the beauty of convenience.

-Onate Cittlali

Semi-conscious environmental awareness

The student jumps into the shower while brushing his teeth to conserve water. After completing his morning routine, the student drives 15 minutes downtown with a full tank of gas.

He parks his car in a designated spot. Before class, he makes a stop at a vending machine, grabbing his third soda for the week and swearing it’s his last one. He places the empty bottle into the recycling bin because that’s the right thing to do.

Upon completing his classes, the student rushes to his car. He drives a few minutes to the immediate city outskirts. He parks and enters a pizza kitchen to start his shift.

He dons his apron and sweats next to the constantly operating oven, which only turns off between the kitchen’s closing and opening. The student grabs one of the “92-percent biodegradable” Styrofoam cups to get more soda.

He goes through three cups, along with three pairs of latex-free gloves, during his shift.

As the pizza boxes pile up next to the dumpster, the student heads to his car after work. He drives 20 minutes back to his house, passing a stream of litter on the highway.  “At least I don’t do that,” the student thinks. The needle on the gas gauge begins to sway toward empty.

He gets home and jumps into the shower, brushing his teeth to conserve water.

-Keenan Thomas

An urban habitat

The long yellow school bus screeches to a halt at the top of the little neighborhood street at exactly 6:40 a.m.; the brakes are sensitive to the nippy October morning air.  

Parents hug their little ones goodbye, wishing them a good day at school – and imploring them to eat the apple in their lunchboxes. The smiling driver closes the doors after the last anxious third-grader climbs the steep bus steps.

It’s a bumpy ride, but the warmth of the bus heaters is putting the boy in the seventh row back to sleep. The girl behind him though likes to paint pictures on the fogged window, with giggles spilling from her and her friend.  Several older kids are finishing homework from the night before. The bus is filled with a chorus of whispers and snores, harmonizing with the whirring of the bus engine as it bounces down the road.

There is only one little girl, at the very front of the bus, who does not join in on the muted chaos of the morning. Head propped up against the buzzing window, she stares absently out of it.  

Outside is a forest of fluorescent lamp posts under which a small herd of nursing home residents take shelter to smoke. Little sedans sleep in the dewy grass. An early morning runner bounds out from behind a bush.  

It seems the tallest trees are chimneys producing fluffy clouds in the cold. She turns away from the window, for there is nothing to see. No one has their nose pressed tightly against the damp window, crowding to get a peek at what roams just outside.

They missed the deer by 10 years.

-Ashlyn Smith