Skiing at Tahoe’s Squaw Valley, the resort with the best report card in the country. Photo: Jeff Engerbretson.

Planning a ski trip this winter? Environmentally minded skiers might want to take a look at the Ski Area Report Card before making travel plans. The recently released Report Card gives every ski area in the country a score, based on the resort’s greenness. The grading criteria encompasses everything from recycling the refuse of mid-mountain lunch lodges to using biodiesel to fuel snowmobiles. California’s ski areas fared well: Tahoe’s Squaw Valley was ranked the greenest in the nation, and Alpine Meadows wasn’t far behind.

One of the ski industry’s biggest environmental sins is snowmaking, which often involves taking water out of streams, or adding low quality water to the watershed. Other environmental impacts include carbon emissions from ski lifts and erosion of steep slopes. The worst offense is developing undisturbed land to expand ski area terrain and build new parking lots and hotels. This can wreck habitat for threatened and endangered species. However, there wasn’t much new ski area development over the past year, primarily because of the slow economy.

According to the Ski Area Citizens’ Coalition (the amalgam of skiers and environmental groups that developed the Report Card), 90% of ski areas in the Western US are on public land administered by the Forest Service. In my opinion, environmentally conscientious ski areas are a good use of public land. I think of skiing as a way to be in nature and enjoy the outdoors—although you could argue that there isn’t much that’s natural about the corduroy-like texture of treeless, groomed slopes. But as I carve through fresh powder, look out over mountain vistas, and watch from the chairlift as voles scurry over the snow, I definitely get that small-speck-in-a-big-beautiful-world feeling. I should disclose that I was a ski bum in Alta, Utah (Ski Area Report Card grade: B) before I blew out both my ACLs and limped off to graduate school.

If you’re concerned about your ski-related carbon emissions, I suggest you live like a ski town local: live close to the mountain, and ski the backcountry. No need for carbon-spewing chairlifts when you can get yourself up the mountain on your own power—but watch out for avalanches.

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Mountain lion. Photo: California Department of Fish and Game.

But after a bit of research, I learned that tranquilization is never an option in situations like this—it takes up to 30 minutes for the tranquilizer to take effect, during which time the situation could turn much worse. Wardens with the California Department of Fish and Game don’t even carry tranquilizers; Berkeley Police sure don’t carry tranquilizers, either. And, Fish and Game does not relocate wild animals that display this kind of bold behavior, because they’re still too much of a threat. These policies make sense—and so does a mountain lion walking in streets of Berkeley, when you really think about it.

Over 50% of California is mountain lion habitat. Mountain lions can be found wherever there are deer, their main prey item. As we humans have built houses and highways, we’ve broken up the mountain lions’ habitat into fragmented patches. To move between patches of habitat, mountain lions have to cross our streets and highways. Mountain lions are territorial, and their territories tend not to overlap; these animals need a lot of space.

My friend Chris Wilmers, a professor at UC Santa Cruz, studies mountain lion movement and behavior. He catches mountain lions and fits them with GPS-accelerometer collars, which record their every movement. He’s learning how the lions move through the landscape. You can learn more about his research, and the Bay Area Puma Project, in QUEST’s Tracking Urban Lions. Chris’s research will show us which areas the mountain lions are using, and how we can connect these habitat fragments, so mountain lions can move safely from patch to patch.

Last week, the plight of urban lions came close to home—or rather, close to work. I work at the Lawrence Hall of Science, in the hills above the UC Berkeley campus. I found out, via email, that three mountain lions, probably a mother and two juveniles, have been seen several times near the Lawrence Berkeley Lab, just down the slope from where I work. And, two dead deer and one dead goat found near the Lab’s buildings strongly suggest that the lions aren’t just taking an evening stroll.

Clearly, we coexist with mountain lions. Our habitat is their habitat. But there are things we can do to prevent encounters; fill your garden with plants that deer find distasteful, so mountain lions won’t be tempted to stalk their prey in your backyard. (See A Gardener’s Guide to Preventing Deer Damage.) Don’t leave food outside for pets. Don’t leave pets outside, or run or bike alone, at dawn, dusk, or nighttime, when mountain lions hunt. And, if you do encounter a mountain lion, stand tall, make noise, and fight back. Find more info here.

Until Chris figures out where we should build wildlife corridors, I’ll be sure not to walk alone from my office to my car during darkling hours; one more reason not to work late!

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Photo by: Melissa Batson

And how they put a snare in the plan for chimps and humans to live together.

In the Budongo Forests of Uganda, a large group of Chimpanzees, named by researchers The Sonso Group, attempt to thrive in their natural habitat, eating plants and small prey. At the same time, humans who live around the forest are also trying to survive, working at places like the local sugarcane plantation and living in straw and mud houses. For food, they set out into the forest with small snares and aim for duiker and or pig.

Most of these snares are made from wire. As chimpanzees walk through the forest, their hands or feet may become trapped in the snare. In two of the forests where chimpanzees are studied, researchers have observed up to 25 percent of chimpanzees are maimed due to snare injuries. More die.

This problem is typical all over the world. How do the chimps and people live together? How do elephants and people live together? Wolves and people? Mountain Lions and Bay Area people? Though solutions seem impossible at times, I am impressed by many of the solutions, one being that of the Budongo Snare Removal Project.

In January 2000, the Jane Goodall Institute in collaboration with the Budongo Forest Project initiated a snare removal program in the Budongo Forest Reserve. The objective is to reduce the number of snares set, reduce the number of animals caught in snares and traps, and increase the number of local people who obey wildlife laws and understand the need for protecting wildlife.

Teams of two men locate and remove snares. After the first year of operation, they found that the number of snares being set within the grid system of the research area dropped. The census teams found heavy poaching and illegal activities were being carried out in the southern end of the forest reserve, so the team near the research site extended their range.

A new education center reaches out to the local community and provides education around ecology, wildlife and the treasure that is the chimpanzees.

The Oakland Zoo adopted this project in 2001 and the support covers the salaries for four field assistants, two educators, two eco-guards, and allowances for transportation and bike repair, gum boots, rain gear, backpacks, and compasses.

Funds raised at an annual fall lecture and silent auction and on Primate Discovery Day go toward this project.This year’s Primate Day is September 27^th and the lecture, featuring Shirley McGreal, is on October 2^nd.

The Oakland Zoo also supports connection and awareness of this project by visiting the site in Uganda. Teens will be traveling there in July and adults will embark on the journey (including gorilla trecking) in October.

More spots are available on this once in a lifetime adventure. For details, email: amy@oaklandzoo.org.

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