The shape of things to come
A brighter future for people and planet
Take pleasure in the small things, the every day beauties that surround us.
The ordinary, once noticed, becomes extraordinary.
Atacama Desert, Chile
Don’t be afraid to shoot for the sun. After all, it’s the closest star to aim for.
It’s early spring here in southern Tasmania; no doubt about it. The bulbs have pushed their green fingers through wet soil, the daffodils have thrust their cheerful faces towards the sky and the garden is gently unfurling itself, seeking the warming sun. The nights are still chilly but the days are lighter and warmer, and this weekend the first bees appeared, contentedly buzzing among the bright blue flowers of my borage.
It’s the lean season in the garden: winter crops of brassicas are going to seed and falling victim to the aphids that manage to appear out of nowhere. My spring greens, freshly planted, are little more than shoots and sprouts and the summer veg still lie in coiled potential within their seeds, sleeping in the warmth of my tiny greenhouse. The lack of local produce at this time of year can be felt at the grocery store and at the market. Winter root vegetables are past their best, with potatoes threatening to sprout in the cupboard and parsnips turning woody. There’s still kale about, but after 4 months of kale feast I’ve had my fill until next winter. At my local grocer the shelves are stocked with eggplant from north Queensland ($14 a kilo!), strawberries from Western Australia and green beans from somewhere in northern New South Wales. It’s all food that’s travelled a long way from market, by boat or plane, or spent months in cold storage, before it reaches our plates.
Me, I like to eat fresh local produce that reflects the seasons. There’s a whole load of good reasons to do this:
- Local food gets to you sooner, so the food is fresher, tastes better and has peak nutrient content.
- It’s more energy efficient, as less energy has been used to store and transplant the food.
- Seasonal growing also requires fewer resources as we’re working with nature: no lighting, no heating, less fertilizers, less pesticides and less irrigation.
- Seasonal eating allows us to taste the changing seasons and be more connected with the world around us.
- It supports local growers and brings local products to market, improving food security and helping to build community.
- It’s cheaper, as you’re not paying for the transport, storage, and other resources, plus you can grow a lot to eat yourself!
So what to eat in Hobart in September, when the pickings are slim and the shops full of imports? It turns out that there’s quite a lot! Between my little garden and Farm Gate Market I’m managing surprisingly well. You just might need to broaden your definition of vegetables to get the most out of early spring. A 10 minute forage in my still-establishing garden yielded the array of tasty goodies pictured above:
- The last tiny shoots of sprouting broccoli, surprisingly sweet and just bite-sized.
- Delicate fronds of salad burnet, rapidly unfurling new spring growth.
- The first pickable leaves of oak lettuce, a self self-sown surprise in the berry bed.
- The last few leaves of my winter crop of rocket (arugula), now in full flower.
- “Rocketini” – the whole seedling thinnings from the spring crop of rocket – densely packed with nutrients and flavour.
- Soft new leaves of the nasturtiams – such a lovely peppery taste.
- A few sprigs of salad-friendly herbs: coriander shoots, sea celery and deep green mint.
- a beautiful selection of edible blooms: bright yellow kale, maroon and cream rocket, borage blue and the cheery orange of nasturtiam.
Edible flowers are one of my favourite spring garden things, and this evening’s pickings turned my garden fresh salad into a delicious, nutritious work of art. With the addition of avocado donated by a friend with a bumper crop, some baby radish greens* from the incredible new season radishes I picked up at the Market (thanks Provenance Growers!), some Huon Valley smoked salmon and a splash of local raspberry vinegar for dressing, everything on my plate this evening came from this little isle and most of it came from my back yard, a new patch that’s only just beginning its kitchen-garden journey.
That said, I still find myself yearning for a glossy dark eggplant (aubergine) or a bright red capsicum (bell pepper). I grew up in Queensland where European veg grows through the winters and summers are full of south-east Asian flavours, but I have learnt that the well-travelled specimens that grace our southern shores are a poor echo of the flavours I’m dreaming of. Better off waiting for the long days of late summer, when the locally grown stuff appears and life is Mediterranean-flavoured. For now I’ll celebrate the flavours of Tasmanian spring in all its fresh green glory, and preserve the few excesses of the season to flavour the summer to come.
Want to know what’s in season where you are? There are lots of great, region-specific seasonal food guides available on-line, or wander down to your local produce market and see for yourself!
* Yes, radish leaves are perfectly edible! So are beetroot leaves. Both can be used as salad or lightly stir-fried but the youngest, freshest leaves are best.
Spring arrives and life unfurls in scenes of ephemeral joy.
The lettuce eater:
My lettuce seedlings have been disappearing. There one day, eaten down to the dirt the next.
Neighbours and fellow gardeners laid the blame on the lady brushtail possum who lives in the old conifer across the way (and has lately had a few enamoured late night callers who make their way across my roof – ah, Spring), so I dragged out some old chicken wire from under the house and possum-proofed the pea and lettuce patch.
Still my delicate seedlings disappeared. Clearly the culprit was someone small enough to slip through the bars of my vegetable prison.
A bandicoot, perhaps? Some native hopping mouse like the melomies that lived in my neighbour’s woodpile back in Brisbane?
This morning I got a good look at my villain, foraging in broad daylight for fallen seed where I’ve recently cleared away some greenwaste in preparation for planting carrots and beets: Rattus norvegicus, the European brown rat.
*sigh*
Guess I’m off to buy a rat trap if I want carrots this year…
One of the things about trying to live a more sustainable life is that is slows you down a little. You take time to shop locally and source small-footprint produce. You stop driving everywhere and start walking instead. Weekends are spent in the garden as often as possible, growing food and nourishing the soil. Real food, real chores, real life. And I love it, I really do. I wouldn’t go back to the life I had before. I was hardly a rampant consumer – I composted, I recycled, I was mindful in my actions – but I wasn’t as happy as I am now. I feel more connected: to the seasons, to the soils and to the community. I’m better at distinguishing between needs and wants, and I find myself wanting a whole lot less. I’m learning new, useful skills and becoming more confident and connected. I have less, I work harder for what I have, I am healthier and I am happier.
The one thing, though, that I never get enough of is time. Always in short supply, I try to squeeze the most out of the time I have, frequently pushing too far and crossing the line into exhaustion and illness. I burn out. It’s not a new state of affairs – I’ve always been this way – but it’s really not sustainable. Time is another resource, just like money, oil, water, nutrients and all the other resources I’m working to conserve. I need to treat it the same way: slow down, take stock, think about what I really need to be spending it on then prioritise my wants. There are so many things I enjoy doing and am passionate about; my curiosity is limitless but my time and energy are not.
I’m slowing down. I’m deciding what I really want (and I’m grateful that my travels have helped me start to work out exactly what that is).
This blog, this lovely little community I’m trying to nurture? Don’t worry, I’m keeping it, but instead of a well-tended neat little plot I’m going to let it ramble a little. The veg will get mixed in with the flowers and sometimes I’ll let the grass grow long. I can’t keep up with twice-weekly writings to the level of content I want to create, so instead I’ll write when I can: when I find myself with both the time and the inspiration. I’m doing the same in real life too, learning to live with the chaos that is the garden I’ve inherited, working with it as best as possible instead of struggling to enforce a sense of order. It’s ok if lettuces sprout in the pavers and kale self-sows in the lawn, if the grass grows in the beds and parsnips appear midst the potatoes. I don’t have to have this patch in perfect order for it to be productive, and nor do I need to blog on a timetable for this project to have value.
This weekend though, I’m having someone come around to give me hand to get a spot ready to plant my summer veg, because I really want tomatoes and zucchini this year, and likewise I’m still looking for guest bloggers to share content here. I love finding new ideas take root and spread.
So please forgive me when my virtual garden gets a little over-grown and help me celebrate the unexpected discoveries of richness in the chaos (like the kale seedlings I’ve been feasting on). Slow down a moment and breathe it all in.
Whatever you can do, or dream you can do, begin it.
Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it!
South Cape walk, Bruny Island, Tasmania
I’ve been making the most of my sabbatical, but now spring is here. Hello!
The lovely Pauline Mak recently requested that I discuss the science behind my opposition to the FV Margiris “super-trawler” in a little more detail. Specifically, she quite rightly asked me to explain why I felt the quota was unsustainable given that respected fisheries scientists like Professor Colin Buxton and Dr Bob Kearney have spoken out in defence of the quota. If I’m going to cite my science degree to claim an informed perspective on the super-trawler issue I really ought to be backing it up with facts!
> You can read my original entry here.
First off, let me clarify that I am not a fisheries scientist. I’m an aquatic ecologist who specialised in freshwater systems and integrative ecology. Once upon a dim, dark undergraduate past I studied fisheries science before deciding that messing about in rivers was much more my thing. Fish ecology and aquatic ecosystems are, however, things I’m passionate about and I’d like to think I’m reasonably well-informed. Plus being a systems/integrative ecologist I’m trained to think in terms ecological interactions and broader ecosystem changes, which I think is relevant to the Margiris case.
So let’s get into it, shall we?
The quota currently set for the Margiris is 18 000 tonnes, or 7.5 % of the total estimated population of jack mackerel and redbait. Is this sustainable? My honest answer is: possibly.
7.5 % is a very conservative quota. For many fisheries a quota around 10 to 15 % is considered sustainable, and for some quickly reproducing species in productive waters, takes of up to 30 % may be managed. The species to be targeted – jack mackerel and redbait – are fairly short-lived species that do breed quickly and have bounced back from previous fishery activity, suggesting the populations are fairly resilient. On the face of things, 7.5 % seems ok, but when I think about it a little more, concerns start to surface.
The first big worry is where the stock estimates come from. Some of the data used to set the fishery quota dates back to studies done in 2002-2004. Normally, the age of the data would not be a concern since there has been no commercial fishing activity in that time, thus no reason for fish numbers to have decreased. Normally: we’ve never really had to think about the impacts of climate change on fish populations before.
Recent CSIRO studies have revealed that fish populations in southern Australian waters are changing in response to climate change, and changing faster than predicted. The ranges of temperate species like jack mackerel and redbait are shrinking. On top of this, tropical species are shifting further south and no one knows yet how the changing species interactions are impacting on predator-prey relationships and marine food webs. Given this environment of rapid, unpredictable change, 8-year old data doesn’t really seem good enough.
Is 7.5 % of an estimated fish population sustainable, in light of the impacts of climate change on ocean ecosystems? Uncertain! We simply don’t have the data or ecological knowledge to say for certain, one way or another. Throw in the uncertainties around local fish depletion, the amount and species of by-catch and potential issues regulating the vessel and you start to understand why some scientists are concerned. Sure, the Margiris is unlikely to cause a catastrophic fishery crash but there’s enough uncertainty there to be questioning if the quota poses an acceptable risk.
So what is an acceptable risk? It all comes down to error: Type I or Type II.
We have 2 potential outcomes: the null hypothesis, that the quota is sustainable, and the alternative hypothesis, that the quota is not sustainable. The fisheries science to date suggests that the null hypothesis is correct, but there is a concerning level of uncertainty around that data. What are the consequences if we’re wrong?
| Null hypothesis is true:
Margiris quota is sustainable |
Null hypothesis is false:
Margiris quota is unsustainable |
|
| Reject null hypothesis:
Stop the trawler |
Type 1 error:
Fishery could have sustained quota but remains unfished |
True positive:
Fishery unsustainable and trawler stopped |
| Accept null hypothesis:
Allow the trawler |
True negative:
Fishery sustainable and successfully fished |
Type II error:
Fishery exploited beyond sustainable yields |
So, if my concerns are false but the trawler is stopped or the quota reduced, a Type I error has occurred, but the consequences of that error are pretty minor. SeaFish Tasmania loses some money, AFMA (www.afma.gov.au ) loses a contract and the Margiris’s European owners lose a potential market selling the catch to Africa. Forty theoretical Tasmanian jobs disappear.
If my concerns are true and the trawler fishery goes ahead as planned, a Type II error has occurred. The consequences here are a little uncertain but potentially much more serious. We could see local fish stock depletion, changes in marine food webs, loss of local predatory fish species, changes in fish communities and impacts on local fisheries. We could see jack mackerel and redbait numbers crash, with unknown ecosystem consequences. It’s not certain to happen. It may not even be likely to happen, but the uncertainty is high enough that I believe it’s a significant risk.
I don’t believe we’ll see an orange roughy scale disaster with the Margiris, but I do believe there are serious risks related to her operations and quota and think we should apply a precautionary approach. Personally, I’d like to see the quota lowered to 5 % with monitoring of fish populations over next 3 years to:
- Confirm stock estimates, including identifying any evidence of shifts in response to climate change;
- Confirm no evidence of localised depletion or loss of genetic diversity; and
- Confirm no resultant shifts in predator populations.
When I take into consideration my other concerns about the Margiris – that she and ships like her have been implicated in fishery collapse in European and African waters, that she is a vector for the spread of marine diseases and invasive species, and that the industrial nature of her operations means she’ll only provide employment for 40 locals – I believe the risks outweigh any potential benefits. Add to that the environmental impact of sending a ship from Europe to operate in Australia for fish to sell in Africa and it doesn’t look sustainable at all; environmentally, socially, financially or ethically.
This is why I still say no. Pauline, I hope this answers your questions!
In theory I’m still on sabbatical and this blog should be dormant, but I just can’t help myself. I have to climb on my soap-box and open my big aquatic scientist mouth.
So what’s got me worked up enough to break my self-imposed silence? The imminent arrival of the FV Margiris, the world’s second-largest trawler, currently on its way to Tasmania to take up a licence for fishing jack mackerel (Trachurus declivis & Trachurus symmetricus) & and redbait (Emmelichthys nitidus).
There’s been a lot of noise in the media about this “super-trawler”, reflecting a lot of unhappiness in the community at large. Despite the promise of much-needed jobs in northern Tasmania, the local community is strongly opposed to the Margiris’s arrival, fearing devastating impacts on local fish stocks and the long-term sustainability of the local fishery. It’s not often you see environmentalists and fisher-folk standing arm-in-arm in Australia (just look at the debate over marine reserves), but right now common concerns are bridging the historical divide.
The 142 m long ship can process over 250 tonnes of fish per day, towing a 300 m net through the water. It’s a pelagic trawler, which means the net doesn’t scrape the bottom, but rather scoops through open waters, funnelling fish and other marine animals through its 2 800 m2 mouth. The operators, Seafish Tasmania, claim the trawl net is fitted with proven marine mammal exclusion devices and that by-catch is minimised. I can only hope they’re right.
The Margiris holds a licence for an 18 000 tonne* quota of jack mackerel and redbait to be fished over the Australian Small Pelagic Fishery Area. How many fish is this? Given rough estimate of 1 kg per fish (based on size to weight ratios), that’s 18 000 000 fish per year!
Opponents are worried about both whole-of-fishery and local-scale stock depletion: that the Margiris will take more fish than the ocean can sustain. The quota has been set by the Australian Fisheries Management Authority, in theory based on sound science, but there’s no great surprise that the community is sceptical. AFMA doesn’t have the best track record in accurately estimating sustainable yields and no-one in Tasmania has forgotten the near-extinction of the orange roughy, so let’s take a look at the science behind the Margiris’s quota: AFMA admits that the data used to calculate sustainable catch levels is 8 years old. Given the age of the data and the fact that it wasn’t collected for quota-determination purposes, it’s fair to question the reliability of the data. AFMA claims to have taken this uncertainty into account by setting the quota at the most conservative level of for sustainability derived from the data set. But is this good enough?
The truth is we can’t honestly model the impacts of fishing at this scale on the ecosystem. Modern science simply doesn’t have enough information or understanding of the complex factors and interactions involved in moderating marine ecosystems. There are incredibly complex food webs involved, a lack of information on fish movements, genetic exchange and breeding patterns, and huge gaps of our understanding of the impacts of weather and climate on breeding and survival rates. Fish stocks vary in response to many factors including climate cycles (El Niño versus La Niña years), water quality and chemistry, terrestrial run-off, predator pressure, habitat quantity, quality and connectivity and a multitude of other factors. The inter-relationships and feedback loops between these factors are complex and poorly understood. To add to the uncertainty, eight years is a long time in fishery population terms and we have no information on recruitment rates since the data was collected. Much could have changed in that period of time.
Add to that the impacts of a changing climate. Ocean temperatures and currents are changing and no research has been done on the impact of these changes on redbait & jack mackerel stocks. The climate will continue to change and we have no way of accurately predicting the future impacts of these changes on our fisheries. Given the high level of uncertainty, taking the lower yield estimate from eight-year-old data can hardly be called the conservative approach! To truly apply the precautionary principle I think it would be fair to initially harvest half the current quota, and to put in place a monitoring program to verify the impacts on the fishery over several generations and recruitment events.
Word is, however, that reducing the Margiris’s quota would make the venture financially unviable. So we have a fishery that’s only marginally profitable – given a pretty liberal estimate of fish stocks and a large quota – in an area with strong community opposition and significant concerns over local environmental, social and economic impacts. That really doesn’t sound like a sustainable business to me!
I don’t think the Margiris belongs in Australian waters under its planned operational regime, and I’d question the viability of super-trawler fishery operations anywhere on this watery planet. We already have a sad legacy of collapsed fisheries around the world; please don’t risk plundering our waters for short-term profits and a lack of rigorous science.
For balanced, fact-based information about the super-trawler debate, check out the following references and make up your own mind:
- ABC 7:30 Report investigation
- ABC Background Briefing coverage
- Seafish Tasmania FAQ page
- Australian Fisheries Management Authority Margiris FAQ page
- Department of Environment & Heritage: Australian small pelagic fishery report
- Australian Small Pelagic Fishery Management Plan (2009)
If, like me, you still think the Margiris is a bad idea, add your voice to the protest over at stopthetrawler.net
It’s about to get quiet around here: very quiet indeed. I’m taking a break from this blogging business while the rest of my life needs my focus.
It’s not that I don’t want to be writing: I do! I have a huge list of blog topics up on my wall, several half-written posts in my head and a few more sitting in the drafts folder. It’s not a lack of motivation or a shortage of ideas. What I am running low on is time.
How can doing things like this not inspire me?
I’m working long hours and travelling a lot at the moment and lots of long days are taking their toll (On the plus side I’m getting lots of practice at packing and living out of my backpack, which will be handy for my upcoming South America trip!). I’ve been too busy to get out bushwalking or go drumming. I’m running on coffee, sugar and stress.
It’s not a sustainable way to live, and so I’m stepping back a little while I get through this busy period and while I’m off on adventures overseas. A sabbatical: time to reflect, explore new ideas, go on a grand adventure and get my life back into balance. Two months off.
I’ll be back again in September to share my stories from the road and keep growing this little community. In the meantime, here are a few great reads to keep the conversation going:
Blissful blogs:
- Whole Larder Love: let Rohan’s excellent photography and delicious recipes inspire a low-impact lifestyle
- Speed River Journal: my Canadian friend Van blogs about his own sustainability journey
- Provincial Life: the lovely Kat explores Tasmanian food and places with an eye on reducing her environmental impacts
- Milkwood Farm: adventures in establishing a viable permaculture venture
Noteworthy news:
- Grist.org: Environmental news, views and advice
- ABC environment: Australian environmental news and information
- Science Daily: sustainability news from around the globe
A touch of zen:
- Zen Pencils: gorgeous weekly illustrations of great quotes to inspire you
Open mind, open heart, open road
It’s fitting that I’ll be posting again come the start of spring. It’s a good time for re-beginning.
See you in September!
The shape of things to come 