For whom the oil tolls

On April 20th around 10pm local time, a drilling vessel leased by British Petroleum (BP), the “Deepwater Horizon,” exploded, killing eleven workers. At the wellhead, 5,000 feet below the ocean surface, the fail-safe blowout preventer (BOP) did not pinch off the well as it was designed to do. The ruptured well gushes an estimated 5,000 to 100,000 barrels of oil a day into the Gulf of Mexico. The Deepwater Horizon accident mirrors the Ixtoc I accident and spill of 1979.

Deepwater Horizon was still afire when the inevitable question about oil exploration on the continental shelf surfaced: Is offshore drilling for oil worth the risk? The short answer, environmentally and economically, is yes.

We don’t often think about risk—the harm done should an event occur and the probability of that event occurring—until something happens. As an example, I live in a risky home. My home is surrounded by large, shady oak trees. During the summer they keep my house cooler. They add monetarily to the house’s value and lower the cooling cost. They could also crush my house if any of them fell. Obviously, the only safe tree is a horizontal tree; and four tons of wood crashing through my ceiling into my bed could spoil the start to an otherwise lovely day, yet I choose to keep the oaks.

It’s fine to choose to risk your life (and your wife’s), I hear you say, but this is oilmageddon. The rupture endangered more than those people on the drilling platform; it endangers the ecological and economic underpinnings of the area. Birds and turtles are already washing ashore covered in oil. Fish will die. Shrimpers, oystermen, and fishermen can’t work. In all, it will cost billions in lost revenue and cleanup. This is a big deal. Yet, it’s not the end of the vegetation, wildlife, tourism, seafood, or anything else. The states along the gulf coast should be back to normal within a year after BP plugs the leak. Oil has spilled before into the ocean before: naturally, accidentally, and on purpose.

In 1991, Saddam Hussein wanted to ruin everything before his troops withdrew from Kuwait. He ordered destruction of the Kuwaiti oil fields, and had the valves opened at the oil terminal near Kuwait City, dumping between six and eight million barrels of oil into the Persian Gulf. At the rate the 25,000 barrels a day, it would take the BP spill eight months to equal six million barrels.

Saddam’s scorched earth policy revealed just what the earth can do. Initial reports from Greenpeace and others were of “unprecedented” destruction of fragile ecological services and possible large-scale extinctions. Similar things are being said now, “We may well be living with the consequences of the Gulf of Mexico oil spill for the rest of the 21st century,” wrote James William Gibson in an editorial printed in the Santa Rosa Press-Democrat. While Professor Gibson, who teaches sociology at Cal State Long Beach, may be right about the social and political consequences, he widely misses the mark by 99 years for the environmental consequences. The effects probably won’t last two years, let alone a century.

Just one year after the largest marine oil spill in human history, a team of researchers from the Intergovernmental Oceanographic Commission at Unesco found little lasting damage to the coral and fisheries. The area’s animal life was in better shape than the most optimistic pundits had predicted—after only one year. Oil evaporates, breaks up, gets digested by microbes, and becomes annoying bits of tar.

BP did not intend to spill the oil, at least in part, because they are responsible for the cleanup. The costs will likely run into the billions. Yet, “The Economics of Allowing More U.S. Oil Drilling” printed by the conservative American Enterprise Institute considered the environmental costs along with benefits and found onoffshore drilling more than worth the risk. The authors, economists Robert Hahn and Peter Passell, analyzed production costs and externality costs such as clean-up costs, lost productivity due to traffic congestion, health costs, and greenhouse gas. The results indicate that even at a price of $50 per barrel the economic benefits greatly outweigh the cost. And the cost of this oil spill could rival the Exxon Valdez cleanup of $12.5 billion.

While the cleanup goes on, the question of what went wrong is already being debated. The Congress has opened hearings but I don’t expect that will tell us much because the people on both sides of the table will be posturing.

Strangely enough, the answer to the question of whether we should drill or not drill is technological and only nominally political. We have already voted with our wallets. Now we might not allow the drilling in our backyard, but that hardly matters does it? We need our fix. Get it from the North Sea or Nigeria, but get it. In the meantime, as we watch the oil slick grow in the gulf and watch endless loops of oily birds being cared for, remember this: the mess is not permanent.


The federal National Oceanographic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) has excellent resources on this and other oil spills:

It’s the end of the world as we know it and I feel fine

The four horsemenTry matching the quote with who said it (answers at the bottom).

  1. Most convincing as evidence of populousness, we men have actually become a burden to the earth, the fruits of nature hardly suffice to sustain us, there is a general pressure of scarcity giving rise to complaints, since the earth can no longer support us. Need we be astonished that plague and famine, warfare and earthquake come to be regarded as remedies, serving, as it were to trim and prune the superfluity of population.
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  2. We already have the statistics for the future: the growth percentages of pollution, overpopulation, desertification. The future is already in place.
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  3. The battle to feed all humanity is over. In the [decade redacted] the world will undergo famines–hundreds of millions of people are going to starve to death in spite of any crash programs embarked upon now.
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  4. The limits to growth on this planet will be reached sometime in the next one hundred years. The most probable result will be a rather sudden and uncontrollable decline in both population and industrial capacity.
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  5. Our supplies of natural resources are not finite in any economic sense. Nor does past experience give reason to expect natural resources to become more scarce. Rather, if history is any guide, natural resources will progressively become less costly, hence less scarce, and will constitute a smaller proportion of our expenses in future years.
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  6. The power of population is so superior to the power in the earth to produce subsistence for man, that premature death must in some shape or other visit the human race.
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  7. It’s the end of the world as we know it and I feel fine.
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  8. Every generation has perceived the limits to growth that finite resources and undesirable side effects would pose if no new recipes or ideas were discovered. And every generation has underestimated the potential for finding new recipes and ideas. We consistently fail to grasp how many ideas remain to be discovered. The difficulty is the same one we have with compounding: possibilities do not merely add up; they multiply.

A. Paul Romer
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B.  Günter Grass
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C.  REM
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D.  Thomas Malthus
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E.  Tertullian, 200 CE
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F.  Paul R. Ehrlich, 1970
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G. Donella Meadows
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H.  Julian Simon

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1. E  2. B   3. F   4. G  5. F  6. D  7. C   8. A


Weekend Postcard from Mountain Home State Forest

I was the Assistant Forest Manager at Mountain Home State Forest in the early 1980’s.

Mountain Home Demonstration State Forest is a 4,800 acre tract of forest land in Tulare County managed by the California Department of Forestry and Fire Protection. The State Forest lies within the Tule River watershed some 22 air miles northeast of Porterville. Elevations range from 4,500 feet to 7,500 feet. Vegetation on the forest is dominated by a mixed-conifer forest with over 5,000 individual old-growth giant sequoia trees.

For more information on MHSF read Management of Giant Sequoia on Mountain Home Demonstration State Forest written by forest manager, David Dulitz.

Here’s a picture of a kid standing in one of the area’s so-called “Indian Bathtubs.”


For more on these rock basins read Rock Basins in Mt. Home State Forest and Immediate Vicinity.

iPhone app for wood

I own an iPhone that rarely has a signal in my area. Nevertheless, iPhones have some cool apps. For instance,  Double Dog Studios has an app called I.D. Wood. It’s available through the iTunes store and puts pictures  and information on more than 150 woods at your fingertips.

I.D. Wood allows a user to quickly browse by Wood Samples, Species Names or Other Names to aide [sic] in quick identification. Categories allow for quickly finding woods of a particular use, durability or sustainable status.

Africa, organic doesn’t work

Nearly one-third of the world’s hungry are in Africa and the Green Revolution has yet to reach the most of the African continent. They farm using organic methods.

[Many repeat] “the mantra that ‘sustainable food’ in the future must be organic, local, and slow. But guess what: Rural Africa already has such a system, and it doesn’t work…If we are going to get serious about solving global hunger, we need to de-romanticize our view of preindustrial food and farming.” – Robert Paarlberg

Read Robert Paarlberg’s full article here in Foreign Policy.




Weekend Postcard from the Napa Valley

I’ve shown you this picture before. It’s of a vineyard in the Napa Valley less than an hour from where I live. And, it’s an example of deforestation because deforestation is the conversion of the land’s use from growing trees to not growing trees.

Farther north and up State Route 29 is Robert Louis Stevenson State Park, which–from the road–consists of two wide spots for parking. The pictures were taken from RSL on the trail to Turtle Rock.

The silence of the limbs

My name is Norm, I love trees, and I’m a forester.

This is a picture of a stand on Mountain Home State Forest after it was logged

Foresters love all the types of forests that exist, young, old, and in between. Trees are awesome. We love all the stuff they provide, such as shade, habitat, cleaner air, clean water, and yes, wood.

We are not Romantics. We don’t confer pastoral scenery with transcendental qualities. Though we passionately love trees, we don’t wax poetic about them in the way Thoreau does. To you perhaps, we have an odd way to show our love for the forest: we cut trees down. That detail may remind you of Hannibal Lecter saying he likes people with “fava beans and a nice Chianti.”

A group of us non-Romantic types got together at the California Licensed Foresters Association (CLFA) convention, March 4-6 in Sacramento. The Arden Hilton’s parking lot held more pickup trucks than a Hollywood gala has Prius sedans.

It’s easy to spot the working forester’s pickup. And, don’t let the patina of dirt and mud-caked splashes around the wheel wells fool you, you’ll see that on the trucks of people who merely ‘play’ in the mud for fun. Foresters don’t play in the mud; they work in the mud during winter. And they work in ankle-deep dust in the summer. The giveaway to the pickup is found in the back. Along with bits of tree bark, leaves, and more dirt, you’re apt to see the tools of the trade: chainsaws, handsaws, double-bit axes, loppers, shovels, tow straps, plastic flagging, and some odd looking stuff with even odder names like hoedad, dibble, McLeod, and Pulaski.

Inside the Hilton, it was just as easy to recognize the foresters. We wouldn’t know couture from a coat rack and so we stand out like bib overalls at a black tie affair. Carhartt jeans and plaid-flannel shirts are common. We didn’t don our normal footwear, our caulked (pronounced “corked”) boots, which was fortunate for the floors since caulked boots have spiked soles. By the way, do you know how to recognize an extroverted forester? He (or she, yes, there are women in the woods) is the one looking at the other person’s boots.

We were at the Hilton to recognize our achievements, share knowledge, and celebrate surviving what had been the worst season in anyone’s memory. Foresters work in the only net carbon-positive industry. Yet, we’re in an industry struggling to stay alive. Due to lawsuits, additional fees, and regulations, the costs of producing a Timber Harvesting Plan have risen 1200 percent over the past 30 years. It’s a formula squeezing some of the greenest jobs out of the state.

Forestry’s survival has been through adaptation in the face of a public disinclined to what we do. We cut trees. Yet, we’re not your grandfather’s clearcutter. No more “Cut it flat, burn it black, plant it back,” said Jim Ostrowski. New awareness and new science leads to new goals and practices. Now, “We cut trees to grow trees,” says Steve Butler, a forester from Santa Cruz, “because what is left is the important part.” You cut bad trees, leave good trees.

Industrial forest management has changed with the times. Still, harvesting can look awful. Stumps, logging slash of bark and branches, and skidding trails can look like devastation. It takes time, training, and a willingness to learn. My training has ingrained in me the need to monitor progress and see what has and hasn’t worked. Not everyone sees harvesting as I do. Remember, trees are grown. And if it’s not grown, it’s mined.

Foresters use silvicultural treatments to maintain, protect, and manage biodiversity. Forests have evolved over millennia with fire, flood, insects, and wind. ‘Protecting’ forests from disturbances they count on for rejuvenation can be detrimental to their long-term health. Harvesting can mimic natural disturbance by creating openings for new plants and wildlife. So, if you look decades beyond the present, you’ll see a biologically healthy forest, teeming with life.

You may not like logging but I bet you love trees—and wood. Why, even people living in San Francisco have to admit that they use wood. You and I have tree-hugging in common. If you hug trees, perhaps it’s to tactilely become one with the tree and totally grok its nature. I hug trees to throw a D-tape around them to measure diameters for volume calculations. That’s my nature.

I love trees, sometimes with pine nuts and a nice Chianti, admit it, you do too.