This spring, the Idaho Department of Fish and Game will spend $100,000 to poison Ravens with “strategically placed” chicken eggs. The poison will only affect Corvids (Ravens, Crows, Magpies, etc.). Ravens are the biggest contributor to egg predation of Sage Grouse nests and the department claims Ravens have expanded their territory due to “human-related activities.” Structures such as power lines, houses, windmills, and water towers are results from human-related activities and provide nesting sites for Ravens.

In the attached article, the department states they are not sure Ravens are a cause for sage grouse population decline. They also say they are sure that once a pair of territorial Ravens is poisoned and killed it will immediately be replaced by another pair. Already, this sounds like a bad idea. Not only is the department releasing poison into the environment, they also don’t know if it will work!

Also in the article, Katie Fite, the biodiversity director for the Western Watersheds Project, says if there is a problem with egg predation, it isn’t because of the predator, but lack of cover for the nest. Sagebrush provides most of this cover for Sage Grouse and its depletion is caused mostly by cattle grazing. Fite believes poisoning Ravens is a project that dances around improving cattle grazing practices.

Cattle grazing is a sensitive topic between the government and ranchers. Some organizations such as the Sage Grouse Initiative and Pheasants Forever are already successfully working with ranchers to improve grazing practices, even in Idaho! These organizations are working with ranchers to prevent listing Sage Grouse under the Endangered Species Act by improving their population numbers. Preventing listing will help ranchers by preventing more regulation on public lands and sage grouse by improving their habitats.

While working with the BLM and interacting with ranchers in Oregon this past summer, I learned if you provide logical reasons and benefits to the public, the public will support and comply with government decisions. Also, I think when people don’t understand why a government agency is using a lot of money to implement an action they are less likely to obey regulations. Poisoning Ravens doesn’t seem logical and I don’t see a reason for why the Idaho Department of Fish and Game needs to implement this project or ignore combating cattle grazing. I think conducting such a project with tax dollars without further studies is very irresponsible for a government agency.

http://magicvalley.com/news/local/officials-to-spend-k-to-poison-ravens-to-protect-sage/article_4cd847e4-bbae-11e3-82ee-001a4bcf887a.html

I’m finally back in the United States, and I feel like I have changed. I look at things a little bit differently and appreciate the things I have a lot more. India is a beautiful country. The people, the culture and everything about it was new and exciting, and I tried to soak it all in.

But after a month of being there, I was ready to come back. I had seen enough of the pollution and poverty to have a newly found appreciation for  Montana, my home.  The clean air and clean streets of Montana are something I cherish.

It was almost like a dream to see a country so different from the one I grew up in. It was eye opening. When people say you better eat all of your food because there is some starving kid in the developing world that would be grateful for it, I can now put a face to that. I have seen the starving kids and the pain of less fortunate people in India. I have been to the slums and seen the environmental degradation of over population.

But along with all the bad, I have seen the beauty of the Indian culture. They are passionate and they have so many interesting things that we can learn from them.

My favorite part of the experience was going to the tiger reserve by Moharli. I felt that it was the place where we got to experience the Indian culture the most. We were immersed in an Indian village for a week and I wouldn’t give that experience up for anything. The other reason that the tiger reserve was my favorite experience is because it was the most positive environmental thing I saw. The Indian government is really devoted to protecting the tigers and doesn’t sacrifice the tiger’s well-being for tourism dollars and I was happy to see some positive environmental decisions amongst so many environmental issues.

On the last day we went to Mumbai and it was so polluted and there were so many people. It seems unreal and unlike anything in America. When you dropped into the city it was instantly polluted and stuffy. I think that the rapid increase in population across India has made it impossible for the country to keep up with infrastructure and the pollution and that’s why the country is in the state it is. There are groups throughout India who are aware of these problems and are trying to fix them, but gaining traction in the country has proven to be an issue.

Overall, I am grateful to have had the opportunity to study abroad and I think it’s something that every student should do.

Here are the links to the two stories that I contributed to while in India. One is the story the whole group contributed to about the tiger reserve, and the other is the story I worked on with Alexander Deedy about the clean water access in the slums of Pune.

Tiger Story

Pune Water Story

This past week we have been back in Pune at the FLAME campus. FLAME is the most expensive college in India and is the only liberal arts college in the country.

Since it is such a nice college, it makes sense that the campus would be drastically different from the other places we visit. This week we were reporting on various stories though out Pune, most of them dealing with tied to the environment. Some of the stories include: rickshaws and the air pollution they are  causing, cycling and it’s presence in Pune, migratory bird habitats, tribal displacement  because of dams being built, the stray dog problem in Pune, and access to clean water in the slums.

This is Wadarvadi, a slum in Pune.

My group did the story about clean water access in the slums, and what we ended up finding was much different than what we expected. We all expected some sort of “Slumdog Millionaire” situation with people in complete poverty; something that was going to shock us. We expected that people in the slums would have to carry the water from really far away and that it would be dirty water that they didn’t have a choice to drink.We didn’t goto the worst slum, because of safety reasons, but the slums we did go to had an outside faucetthat pumped out filtered water during certain hours of the day. The water is very clean although sometimes they get throat infections in the winter months from the water. Even though they are living in the slums, Pune has set up a system where they drink the same filtered water that we do at our fancy college campus.

When we figured out that all the slums in Pune would be like this we were confused, a little bummed, but mostly impressed. We were confused because we never would have guessed that Pune could have built the infrastructure to provide everyone with clean water. The journalists inside of us were bummed because we didn’t get the sensational and shocking story we wanted and expected. We had prepared ourselves for the worst and gotten pleasantly surprised.

In India you can’t go a block without seeing a building that looks like it’s going to fall over, garbage covered streets, or homeless children asking for food. Their roads are quite awful, compared to roads in America, and their rivers are filled with mountains of trash. It’s a sad sight, but knowing that Pune can provide clean water for its residents gives me hope that they can eventually clean itself up and lower the amount of pollution in the city.

There are islands of trash floating down the rivers through Pune.

Everywhere on the walls are advertisements saying “Keep Pune green and clean. Green Pune. Clean Pune.” They are trying and I think that’s all anyone can ask for.

By: Mercedes Becker

While traveling through Northern Ireland, I was deeply touched and even a bit disturbed by the lasting influence I could feel still lingering from the Troubles. Peace was finally established with the St. Andrews Agreement in 2006, but tension still exists in places like Belfast and Derry, where murals dedicated to the Nationalists and Loyalists cover the walls and “IRA” is graffitied on the street signs. I wrote a sestina-style poem describing my experiences in this part of the country. This is it:

Our gazes shift to the infamous walls
Block letters and portraited figures painted in blue and green and red
Some faces heated, enraged, some cold
They have picket signs, and weapons, and nothing in their hands
My eyes fixate on the guns
A symbol of violence in a time of peace

Politicians create pen-and-ink peace
But paper treaties aren’t castle walls
In 1998 the IRA still had their guns
And continued paint-splattering these walls red
The blood of innocents on their hands
Children suffering bombs in cold blood, their blood cold

I hide my hands in my pockets from the cold
Remember a conversation the day before about peace
I met a man in Belfast, we shook hands
And I asked him what it would take to tear down the walls
“Integrate the schools!” he shouted, his face red
But he wasn’t angry with me. He was angry with politicians, separation, and guns

In Derry, there is a painting of a broken gun
Placed next to a girl who long since turned cold
The girl wears green, the gun is red
One the symbol of tragedy, the other peace
How can Derry find peace with tragedy written on her walls?
When will the communities of Belfast be able to shake hands?

Funny, how when you unfurl your fists they turn back to hands
How handshakes are easier when you drop your guns
How people have always felt safer behind walls
But skin is warm and mortar cold
The people of Ulster have just tasted peace
But the city walls still turn their vision red

We’re but travelers here, trying to experience the things we’ve read
Trying to paint Ireland on the backs of our hands
Trying to understand a place that hasn’t always known peace
We’re told the Irish aren’t fond of guns
I’m apt to believe, but don’t tell me their spirits don’t turn cold
When they’refacing the murals on these walls

These days, the Republicans and the Loyalists have holstered their guns –
The Troubles have nearly passed and the streets are grey, not red

I walk these curving streets of Derry eager to place my cold hands in front of a pub fire,
But I don’t know if it will do much for my chilled spirit

There is sadness here in Ulster; even a traveler can sense the tension. May I offer my opinion on peace?
Paint over the walls.

By: Mercedes Becker

Ireland is often referred to lovingly as “the land of saints and scholars,” a name I’ve come to learn fits the country very well. Ireland has a long history of religious and scholarly influences and after traveling there I’d say these themes remain still. Although there are many religious figures I could and probably should talk about, for this post I’d like to focus on one of my favorite Irish scholars, national poet William Butler Yeats.

I listened to a recording of Yeats reading one of his poems in the Irish National Library in Dublin and was so inspired I decided to look up more of his work. I found the poem titled, “The Heart of the Woman,” a sweet, thoughtful poem written from the perspective of a young woman and wrote a responding poem mimicking Yeats’ style from the perspective of the man. Here are the two poems:

The Heart of the Woman
W.B. Yeats

O what to me the little room
That was brimmed up with prayer and rest;
He bade me out into the gloom,
And my breast lies upon his breast.

O what to me my mother’s care
The house where I was safe and warm;
The shadowy blossom of my hair
Will hide us from the bitter storm.

O hiding hair and dewy eyes,
I am no more with life and death,
My heart upon his warm heart lies,
My breath is mixed into his breath.

The Heart of the Man
Mercedes Becker

O what to me the midnight chimes
Twisting the knob to her bedroom door;
Hands clasped in mine, from bed she climbs,
Bedclothes dragged to heaps upon the floor.

O what to me her father’s estate
For now she’s safe within my care;
A Dublin drizzle deems us immaculate,
I bury my face within her hair.

O buried faces and blushing cheeks,
I am young as Celtic gold,
If only this night were days and weeks,
Our breath, two mists, mixing in the cold.

By: Mercedes Becker

Hello Everyone!

It feels as if it was just yesterday that I was cruising the Irish countryside, exploring castle ruins and monasteries, eating pub “toasties” (toasted sandwiches), and listening to my fabulous tour guide Tom Quinn explain the ins and outs of Irish history. I’ve been back in the states for a few weeks now, but Ireland is still very much on my mind. In fact, just this morning I had to listen to some Johnny Cash because I missed the emerald isle so much (I heard Johnny Cash covers in three different pubs while on my trip. He seems to be very popular over there). My out-of-the-classroom experience was the trip of a lifetime; I feel so lucky to have been able to go.

I realize it may not be obvious how my trip to Ireland fits into my global theme and question, but I hope to explain here how the two tied together. I hope to discover the impact of the global phenomenon of deinstitutionalization of the mentally ill on homelessness throughout the world. Beginning in the 1950’s mental patients in the US and many parts of Europe were released from hospitals to be cared for in the community, but as previous research in the US suggests, many of these patients were returned to lives on the streets instead. My questions are: did this effect occur in other places? How did different countries approach this policy change? What were the effects? How do countries address mental illness and homelessness now?

Ireland turns out to be a perfect place to start answering some of these questions. Throughout Ireland, deinstitutionalization is still occurring, as patients are being moved out of many of the outdated mental hospitals. In conjunction with this, the country is seeing an overall cut to mental health care funding for fiscal year 2014. I can foresee these two events being harmful to the community mental health care system, and potentially influencing homelessness in Ireland, but I thought conducting some interviews with professionals might give me more insight. While abroad I interviewed Louise Lennon, director of the Dublin branch of the  Simon Community which runs the homeless shelters in Ireland, and Orla Barry, CEO of Mental Health Ireland. I was very grateful to have the opportunity to talk with them, and surprised by some of the things they had to say.

I won’t copy my whole interviews here (I’ll be using the information for my GLI capstone senior year) but I will share some of the highlights.

1. According to Louise, 45% of people at the Simon Community shelter have a diagnosable mental illness.

2. Deinstitutionalization does not tend to contribute significantly to homelessness in Ireland, because mental hospitals may not release patients without a permanent address, although some people do fall through the cracks.

3. Only certain homeless shelters in Ireland collaborate with the mental hospitals.

4. Orla pointed out people with dual diagnoses (suffering from substance abuse and mental illness) are some of the most difficult people to provide services for and also are at greater risk for being homeless.

I talked about these things with Louise and Orla, and so much more. I’m really excited about where this information is going to take my research, and for my capstone project in general. The Irish perspective on this topic is so different from that of the US, which means I have a lot to contrast and compare, which can only mean good things for my project senior year.

By: Mackenzie Enich

By: Mackenzie Enich

By: Mackenzie Enich

A set of 100 stairs leads down to the edge of the water. Holly men sit on the stair under orange tarp tents, entirely naked with their bodies painted in ash. The white ash makes their ebony skin grey and there long beards white. These men sit there on the steps, live on the banks of the river, and pray as the sun comes up until it goes down.

Every 12 years there is a festival (a sort of pilgrimage) held in Varanasi. The last one was in 2001 and 3.6 million people came to the city. The festival ended a few days ago. This year 5 million people made the journey to the city. That kind of energy would be incredible to see and beautifully dangerous. Someday, maybe in 12 years, I will get to see something like that.naked with their bodies painted in ash. The white ash makes their ebony skin grey and there long beards white. These men sit there on the steps, live on the banks of the river, and pray as the sun comes up until it goes down.

I step slowly on to the last cement step with locals and foreigners alike standing at the edge of the water as the river licks the bottom of the wooden boats. The boat gives into the water asI step on the front to get inside. The air is cool and the bugs hover over the water. Two men sit at one end of the boat with giant ores rowing us and down the river.

The set of stairs we came down is just one of 85 sets. There are 85 ghats up and down the bank of the Ganges, each 100 steps or more. They stretch as far as the eye can see down the river. Old buildings stand, on top of the stairs, with holes so the river wind can pass through them. These buildings were built by the wealthy over the years. The kings and queens of past lives left the bricks to stand as a guard over the river. Most of the buildings are empty although some are inhabited. They are all beginning to crumble toward the stairs and the color is starting to fade.

When the water turned dark with the reflection of the night sky the fires of the crematorium became more visible. Sparks flew as boys beat the burning logs with sticks. Massive logs, the size of whole trees were stacked ten feet tall all along the upper part of the bank. It takes 300 kg of wood to burn one body. Five fires glowed near the edge of the river. All the fires were being tended but all the funeral processions had left. Three bodies, covered in gold fabric, laid on the stairs to the right of the fire, waiting their turn to be burned. Down below the cremation four men stand in the shallow water, cleansing the ashes and taking what gold and silver is left over from the bodies. The families never come back to reclaim the metal.

Many people think there are bodies floating around the Ganges River and at one time it was true but not anymore. There are four types of people that are not allowed to be cremated. A monk, a pregnant women, a child under ten, and a person who died from a snake bite. In these particular cases the bodies are taken out to the middle of the river, tied to a rock, and left to sink. The only reason a body comes to the surface are if the river dolphin cuts the rope. The sparks of the fires drifted up to clouds as we sat and watched. Eventually we moved away up stream to say a prayer of our own.

I sat with a bowl in my hand containing a lit candle with small gold flowers around it. To my right our priest begins to sing a prayer in sand script again. I closed my eyes and held the candle close to feel the warmth of the flame on my nose and smell the flowers. I closed my eyes for three minutes.

After the deep voice of the prayer dissolved into the night air all that could be heard was the lapping of the river at the bottom of the boat. I opened my eyes, turned around, made my wish, and sent my candle down the river.

Every night seven priests do a light ceremony to give thanks to the mother river for allowing them to make it to the end of the day. Thousands of people crowded on the ghats and in the boats at the shore. We stayed in our boat and only tried to move through the hordes of people when the ceremony was over.

It took 30 minutes to navigate through the streets back to where our rickshaws were parked. The lights were bright on the main road and all that could be heard was the incessant beeping of motor bikes trying to get through the crowd. It never works well. As westerners many people were trying to stop us and take photos of us. As women we often found ourselves surrounded by men. Orange, yellow, green, and blue sari clothed women rushed by. I only have six inches of space around me, less when a cow came walking down the street.

My mother always said the Indian culture was a culture that existed in its own place and time. She was correct. When I got to Varanasi I thought; this is India. Varanasi is all of what I thought my Indian experience would be. It is a whole other world. When I was a little girl and my mother showed her slides from India, I would close my eyes for three minutes and listen to her stories. For three minutes I would be in India with my mother. For three days I was here in my India. Someday I will be in India with my mother and we will experience it together. I take these few words to say thank you to my mother for forever inspiring my passion for traveling.

In 2013 spring semester I had a chance of a life time. For four months I studied on a ship and traveled around the world with the Semester at Sea program. We visited 12 different countries during the semster and I made some of my best friends in that four mounths. Here is the link to my blog and you can read it from start to finish if you like but I will be posting at least three of the posts. Hope you enjoy. If anyone is thinking of doing this program, let me know I would be happy to talk to you about it. http://globalbynature.wordpress.com

Mackenzie