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Last updateTue, 18 Sep 2018 1pm

On this week's polar vortex-free weekly Independent comics page: This Modern World realizes Sparky the Penguin may need a new job; Jen Sorensen just says no to billionaire presidential candidates; (Th)ink examines the difference between wall vs. cave; Red Meat enjoys the benefits of regularity; and Apoca Clips watches as Sarah Huckabee Sanders declares that everything is fine.

Published in Comics

On this week's pass-interference penalty-free weekly Independent comics page: Apoca Clips features an announcement from Li'l Trumpy that he's ready to negotiate; Red Meat goes to 2101 for a chat between K-REN3 and MMD3; Jen Sorensen wonders why it's now controversial to oppose bullies; The K Chronicles looks on in amazement as his Hulu TV show gets under way; and This Modern World looks at the ongoing mountains of madness.

Published in Comics

In Southern Utah, there is a patch of desert heated by infrared lamps. The lamps hang just above the plants and soil crusts commonly found in this desert surrounding Moab.

These lamps help scientists study how temperature increases impact plants and soils living in this already hot desert. On any given day, science technicians can be seen reaching underneath the lamps to measure the size of each grass blade and the number of seeds on each shrub. The information gleaned helps land managers know what to expect from ecosystems as temperatures increase, allowing them to manage for both ecosystem integrity and multiple land uses as climate changes.

During this partial government shutdown, however, the plants are going unmeasured, cutting off the continuous observations necessary for careful science and creating a gap in this long-term data set.

When the government partially shut down on Dec. 21, sending home employees from the U.S. Geological Survey, National Park Service, Bureau of Land Management, and Forest Service, the important science being done across the country ground to a halt—with consequences extending beyond the loss of plant measurements or the paychecks upon which these employees rely.

In parts of the West, where the economy is tied directly to the integrity of federal lands, using science to understand how these landscapes work and respond to change is essential to the economic well-being of the region. Economic drivers occurring on federal lands such as recreation, resource extraction, grazing and wildlife resources rely on science to inform evidence-based management. While research universities generate some of this science, the shear extent of public lands in the West requires the region to rely on government scientists to provide additional research about how to manage these lands.

The partial shutdown has forced federally conducted science and the science occurring on federal lands into disarray. It has delayed or canceled conferences that are necessary for research and for sharing and learning new information. Applications for research permits on federal lands and the hiring of seasonal or contractual employees has been halted. Scientists who need research funding can’t get it. My own research exploring how nutrients move through desert soils has been impacted. Ongoing work to publish research has been delayed without access to my government collaborators, and decisions about federal fellowships I’ve applied for and am relying on to complete my dissertation research with the University of Texas at El Paso have been put on hold.

In the West, the immediate impacts extend beyond the science and scientists themselves to the volunteers, educators and visitors who are no longer able to engage with the science and science resources the region has to offer. The loss of paychecks and visitors measurably impacts our economy. The unquantified impacts do the same, damaging the science being generated with taxpayer dollars and diminishing our ability to use science to the advantage of our landscapes and economies.

While the short-term consequences of disruption to federal and federally supported science are substantial, the long-term consequences can be severe. Entire seasons of data collection may need to be canceled due to the backlog of hiring and funding that is likely to occur. Important cultural and scientific resources on public lands face the risk of vandalization or loss without federal employees and volunteers monitoring them. Over the long haul, disruptions in funding for scientists who rely on consistent access to research sites, laboratories, seasonal personnel and volunteers can easily drive top scientists away from working for federal agencies. The likelihood of losing top federal scientists to university or private-sector jobs only grows as the record-breaking shutdown goes on. Without the best minds working to understand our federal lands and pressing problems, our ability to manage and adapt suffers—and so do we.

Out in the desert, the plants and soils are continuing to respond to the heat-lamp induced warming with no one to track their responses. Meanwhile, the average air temperatures for the region continue to climb. As land use and climate change accelerate in the West, we all lose when avoidable shutdowns degrade our ability to understand, manage and adapt to the changing world around us.

In the West, continuity in science matters. Let’s communicate to our elected officials that Westerners value consistent science funding for the betterment of the lands and economies we rely on.

Kristina Young is a scientist living in Southeast Utah. She is a former Wyss Scholar for the Conservation of the American West and the host and producer of the regional science show Science Moab on KZMU. This piece originally appeared in High Country News.

Published in Community Voices

The government shutdown is on the mind of most of the weekly Independent comic page's esteemed cartoonists this week, as This Modern World looks at life in the Stupidverse during the shutdown, while Jen Sorensen ponders Trump's actions, and Apoca Clips asks Li'l Trumpy his thoughts about this "greatest" shutdown. Meanwhile, (Th)ink posits that Alabama was the real winner of the college football championship, given recent events, while Aquaman (sort of) (not really) makes a guest appearance in Red Meat.

Published in Comics

On this week's 2018-concluding weekly Independent comics page: Apoca Clips finds out what Li'l Trumpy wants for Christmas; Red Meat has a concerning visit to the doctor; This Modern World turns the tables to look at you, dear reader; Jen Sorenson ponders the influence of old grandpas; and The K Chronicles extols the wonders of small-town living.

Published in Comics

On this week's Tide Pods-free weekly Independent comics page: Jen Sorenson looks at the cycle of corruption; The K Chronicles goes sledding; This Modern World watches as the news cycle rolls on; Red Meat feels bloated; and Apoca Clips discovers the real reason why the government shutdown ended quickly.

Published in Comics

As I wrote last spring, the pumas of Southern California’s Santa Monica Mountains are dying—slowly, but quite literally—for lack of genetic diversity.

Blocked from migration by freeways, development and the Pacific Ocean, the lions have begun to inbreed; researchers studying the lions have, through DNA tests, found multiple instances of fathers mating with daughters. If it keeps up, the population will go sterile, depriving the tiny ecosystem of its single apex predator.

That’s why it mattered so much that, during the government shutdown, a puma was found dead on Highway 101 at Liberty Canyon, a well-known wildlife migration route between the Santa Monicas and open space to the north. Fewer than a dozen pumas remain in this cloistered range.

When the lion died, the National Park Service researchers who have been studying the animals for the last 11 years had been furloughed. Now that they’re back, we know: This death is just about as tragic as it gets for the lions of the Santa Monica Mountains.

Seth Riley, an urban wildlife expert who works on the NPS puma study, says that his colleague, Jeff Sikich, was able to access the lion’s body shortly after its death and collect samples, which he submitted to genetics labs at the University of California at Davis and UCLA. So far, the UCLA lab has analyzed 15 “loci”—specific positions on chromosomes occupied by “alleles,” or DNA sequences. “And of those 15 loci,” Riley says, “five had alleles that we never see in the Santa Monica Mountains, and have only seen north of the 101.”

Had the lion not been struck and killed by a passing motorist just after midnight on Oct. 7, that genetic material might have soon been circulating among the pumas of the Santa Monicas.

The death underscores the need for some sort of safe passage wildlife could follow out of the Santa Monicas and back again at Liberty Canyon, which is “one of the only places along the 101 freeway where there’s natural habitat on both sides,” which is critical for animals to safely cross, Riley says. The last puma that came from the north, P-12, crossed here in early 2009, and from what Sikich observed at the site where the body was found, this recent lion seems to have made it all the way across the freeway and run up against a 10-foot right-of-way fence.

The California Department of Transportation has twice had grant applications rejected for a $10 million underpass at this site. Round three comes up soon.

Riley says there’s much more work to be done on the lion’s DNA—scientists are hoping to test 54 loci, not just the 15 already analyzed. But it’s already clear that, had he been able to establish himself in the southern mountains and breed successfully as P-12 did, the now-dead lion’s impact would have been huge.

“When you have a small population and not a lot of reproductive males,” Riley says, “individual migration events make a big difference.”

Judith Lewis Mernit is a contributing editor to High Country News, the site at which this was originally posted. The author is solely responsible for the content.

Published in Environment

The night we drank California’s best zinfandel, a 5.0 earthquake jiggled tectonic plates off the Pacific Coast.

We didn’t feel it. No tsunami warnings ensued.

Dave asked me if I would like to feel Adventurous. I said I did.

He was washing dishes. I was scalding tomatoes, making them into a salsa with avocado, lime juice, late-harvest green onions and fresh basil.

The chunky concoction tasted more Italian, like something you’d put on bruschetta. We ate it with tortilla chips.

Dinner was on the grill: St. Louis-style barbequed ribs, a rack and a half, which is all that fits on my small portable gas grill.

What wine goes best with ribs? Syrah! Malbec! Zinfandel!

Tough choices.

We chose to celebrate. Because it was Friday. Because Dave’s a federal employee who’s still working—he’s “essential”—but not getting paid. Because we have enough wine to ride out a couple of weeks of shutdown. (Paying the mortgage … that’s another story.)

We ended up opening this year’s best zinfandel, the double-gold-medal-winning California State Fair top pick—the Adventurous, a Macchia 2011 Amador County Zinfandel from the Linsteadt vineyard.

Macchia’s tasting room in Acampo, Calif., is a down-homey place with moderately priced wines. The Adventurous is $26.

We bought California’s Best Zinfandel on a Sunday in September. Dave drove over from Reno. I left Palm Springs at about 6 a.m. and arrived in the land of wine around 1 p.m. (My travel time included a crepe stop at the International House of Pancakes on Interstate 5. One shouldn’t taste award-winning wines on an empty stomach.)

Macchia’s tasting room was our third and last stop for the afternoon. We’d been to a super-loud and crowded tasting room, and then a quieter but fruit-fly-infested winery.

By contrast, Macchia was perfect. Friendly winery dogs greeted us and submitted to hearty petting. Tasting-room employee Vanessa Gonzales wore a Chiefs football jersey. Sampling commenced.

Macchia’s naming convention is memorable. A Sangiovese is called Amorous; a Barbera is Infamous. Zinfandels include Oblivious, Generous and Prestigious. We enjoyed subtle differences in fruit and spiciness and in the way the wine felt in our mouths. All remarkably delicious.

We’d tasted several wines before Gonzales remembered to tell us that they’d just gotten that big blue 2013 California State Fair ribbon on the wall for the 2011 Adventurous.

We sipped, liked and purchased.

We thought it was cool that the wine had won an award. Later, we realized that this wine had won The Award—“Best Zinfandel” in the state. After five minutes of extensive online research, I was duly impressed. (This year’s commercial wine winners are listed on the fair’s website. It’s fun to scroll through and plot future visits.)

The night we drank the best zinfandel in California, we opened the bottle more than an hour before dinner, but didn’t drink it. Ploop. Out came the cork. Dave sniffed the bottle. I sniffed the bottle. Nose-gasms ensued.

A decanting debate was brief: Should we dump the liquid into a large, oddly shaped bottle to let the wine open up?

“You don’t want to flatten it,” I said.

“You can’t flatten it,” he contended.

Dave poured a half-ounce into my glass. “Yeah, decant it,” I said.

We dumped.

Because I like to sip a little something while I’m cooking, I had a couple of ounces of Montepulciano that I’d opened the previous night. Perfect with Italian dry coppa and Spanish manchego. I learned to say Montepulciano by watching a YouTube video. How did you learn to say Montepulciano?

Speaking of streaming video, we'd planned to watch an episode of The West Wing’s season five on Netflix, but the night’s ante had upped. We selected an artsy Italian thriller instead. With English subtitles.

Dave had harvested purple potatoes, so we shredded those and cooked ’em up with garlic and chanterelle mushrooms. Zin’s a fine meat-and-tater wine.

Then the meat was on our plates. A toast—to Friday nights. We tested the velvet in our glasses, Dave noting caramel and light fruit. Me, nice warm spices. Then we dug in, dipping our perfectly seared ribs into a tangy Red Tail Ale barbecue sauce from Mendocino Brewing Company. Yeah.

But how would the wine fare with the super zingy ribs?

Not to worry. The wine not only didn’t disappear; the meat brought out the wine’s giant fruits. Big peppery plums! “Not for the faint-hearted,” as the wine’s promo proclaimed.

This is what pairing is about.

The movie, La Doppia Ora (The Double Hour), from 2009, began with a suicide and a dismal speed-dating scene. We hunkered on the couch and nursed the rest of the bottle for 90 minutes or so, wearing glasses over our schnozzes like oxygen masks. Inhaling flavor.

Can you use up smell?

I sat my glass down but was distracted by the intoxicating vapors coming from Dave’s wine. He guarded his Adventurous.

The plot twisted. The characters were not who they seemed to be. Everything changed. Our wine shifted as well, into harmonious balance, hints of vanilla.

Then bullets. Bad dreams. Hallucinations.

Is this wine the best because it is the best? Or is it the best because we think it’s the best?

Later while cleaning up, I polished off a few sips of montepulciano. After the Adventurous bliss, the formerly OK wine tasted disgustible with notes of sour refuse.

As the movie climaxed, we savored the last of our Adventurous, hopping on the Macchia website to price out a case ($312) that we would not be buying.

Finally, our last sip. The Italian thriller had resolved, and I don’t mean to spoil it, but true love was not served. Or was it?

We raised our empty glasses for a final toast.

Nothing notable, really, about our Friday night. We turned it into the night we drank California’s best zinfandel.

Published in Wine

On this week's indigestible Independent comics page: The City ponders the rising up of the gun nuts; Red Meat offers sage dining advice; Jen Sorenson examines why there's no compromise in Congress today; and The K Chronicles compares a toddler's tantrum to the GOP's Obamacare fight.

Published in Comics

On this week's extra-girthy Independent comics page: The K Chronicles pays tribute to Breaking Bad's David Ury; Jen Sorenson has suggestions on how to fix the GOP brand; The City analyzes the consequences of the government shutdown; and Red Meat attempts to avoid some large junk.

Published in Comics

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