Departing Seattle, planting trees in my wake

For Earth Day, I have a tradition of doing service for our planet. It's not the only day that I work for Earth, but I hold April 22nd in special esteem.

This year, I will be moving on Earth Day. I am off to start a new venture in Colorado, the details of which I will reveal in a future post.

Ross the restorer; photo by Lizzie Petrin

So I did my service early. This past Saturday, I returned to a place where I have put in quite a bit of work in the past several months—the West Duwamish Green Belt. With 182 acres on public land and another 300 on private, the green belt is the largest contiguous forest in Seattle. Seattle was nicknamed the Emerald City for its abundance of evergreen-dominated forests. But due to logging and invasive plants, many of the forests are now in a weakened state. Parts of the once-proud green belt have turned into thickets of Himalayan blackberry; the formerly-biodiverse habitat has become a monoculture. The Nature Consortium, a nonprofit based in West Seattle, works to restore the forest of West Duwamish to its emerald glory. (The NC also provides youth environmental education programs which integrate the arts, for more information consult their website.)

Restoration director Mark "Buphalo" Tomkiewicz provides instruction for the tasks ahead.

The Nature Consortium holds half-day work parties at the green belt three or more times per week. A work crew consists of one to three NC staff, and a number of volunteers ranging from three to one hundred or more. The NC staff give a short presentation on forest ecology, restoration techniques, and safety, and set the crew to work. Armed with shovels, dibbles, pruning shears, rakes, pitchforks, and weed wrenches, the crew—which sometimes includes yours truly—unearth and remove invasive plants including Himalayan blackberry, Scot's broom, and wood ivy. We plant natives, including Douglas fir, western red cedar, mock orange, service berry, and snowberry. We spread mulch to suppress the return of botanical invaders, and aid the natives. (And leave with the pleasant aroma of fresh wood chips on our sleeves). A Douglas fir can grow to be 300 feet tall and live for over 400 years, and reproduce to make many more trees. So our efforts today can yield high results in the future.

Volunteers take on the Himalayan blackberry.

The Nature Consortium and I have several goals in common, one of which is bringing ecology and the arts together. Hence, many of NC's work parties are also concerts. Musicians of many stripes, including singers, guitarists, and players of varied wind instruments, enter the forest. The restoration crew digs, cuts, and plants to live tunes.

Live music helps plants to grow and volunteers to dig.

We get the forest into better shape. In the process, we get ourselves into better shape. Forest restoration can work up a sweat, and is considerably more rewarding than running on a treadmill.

The restoration creates improved habitat for animals as well as plants. Often, we encounter these denizens of the green belt. Varied birds play their music to accompany that of the humans. At Saturday's work party, a cooper's hawk flew overhead. We met a red-legged frog. It's their breeding season, so this frog most likely had just finished a successful mating. The offspring will inherit a healthier habitat.

Buphalo shares the red-legged frog before releasing it.

Nature Consortium volunteers have planted over 7,000 native trees and shrubs this planting season, and will be back for more. At the end of Saturday's work party, I looked ahead of me into the acres of blackberry and trees covered in wood ivy, and the task of restoration seemed impossible. Then I looked behind me and saw the huge empty stretch of earth we had created, and mountain of blackberries we had uprooted in a single session (wherein the focus was blackberry removal.) And I concluded that the restoration task is doable, thanks to the sweat and energy from willing workers. It will keep the Nature Consortium busy for years to come, and educate countless volunteers on forest ecology and wisdom. The green belt will be a source of community pride and personal inspiration.

I look forward to seeing the ever-improving forest when I next visit Seattle. For now, I have a new adventure in Colorado.... !

NEW comic to debut at Nisus Gallery, April 2011

On April 7-30, 2011, The Nisus Gallery in Portland, Oregon will display Paneled, an exhibition of comics and art by students and alumni of The Center for Cartoon Studies. My work will be in the show, alongside that of a 14 other CCS artists, including Pat Barrett, Colleen Frakes, Alexis Frederick-Frost, Penina Gal, Bob Oxman, and Mario Van Buren.

The show will include a wall display of original art, and a pop-up store of comic books and zines. As this show is in Oregon, my works about Crater Lake are especially pertinent. Hence, The Raven and the Crayfish will be prominently displayed. And, my new comic Avian Tales from Crater Lake will make its debut. Both books will be for sale in the store, and an original drawing from Avian Tales and a version of the back cover for Raven and Crayfish will be part of the wall display.

Avian Tales from Crater Lake is twelve pages long, and contains three short stories based on my experiences as a Park Ranger: "A Flying Leap," "Mergansers in the Blue," and "A Visit from Thunderbird." (The first two are comics, and the third is an illustrated story.) The tales feature my remarkable observations of bald eagles and diving ducks, and encounters with dangerous weather. Although the booklet may be short, it has received high praise from my fans. My friend Raven even thinks it is the best comic I have yet created.

If you find yourself in Portland in the next month, it would be worth your while to visit this show and examine the masterworks by some of America's most dedicated rising cartoonists. The Center for Cartoon Studies (CCS) has rapidly become one of the Nation's most prestigious schools of cartooning. The faculty are famous cartoonists, writers, and designers, and many of the students are destined to become famous. I was part of the pioneer (first-ever) class at CCS, and even gave the student-speech at our commencement ceremony. I remain part of the CCS alumni community. It has led to opportunities, the Nisus show included.

Have a grand April, everyone!

Dangers from nuke and sewer; wiser approaches

For this drawing, I took some influence from Japanese giant monster movies.

The nuclear situation in Japan remains frightening, as does the threat of a similar event in the US. The bone-chilling guitar riff from Black Sabbath's “Electric Funeral” plays repeatedly in my head.

Since my previous post, I have learned some new things about our unsafe reactors. According to Dr. Ira Helfand, The U.S. nuclear plant most vulnerable to earthquake damage is not in California, but Indian Point, 27 miles north of New York City—with a population of over 20 million within a 50 mile radius. Where or how that population could evacuate in a meltdown crisis is an open question. For more on nuclear power and why it is not good energy policy, consult this thoroughly-researched blog by the U.S. PIRGs.

Meanwhile, wind farms in Japan were unscathed by the earthquake. Remarkable.

Tectonic and climactic forces have ravaged our cities multiple times in recent years. And repeatedly demonstrated our unpreparedness for such events.

I have experienced the destructive power of weather firsthand. In 2008, I lived on Galveston Island, Texas, and worked for an environmental education organization there. In September, Hurricane Ike struck. Prior to the storm's arrival, I evacuated to a Houston. I and several other employees and relatives of the director rode it out in an upper floor apartment. I spent the day before the storm frantically gathering and preparing all the supplies I could—gasoline, batteries, emergency phone charger, radio, water, more water, canned food, rubber boots, etc. The night of the storm, I was alternately asleep and awake, as I listened to wind and rain pummel the building—first from one side, then the other. The sturdy brick structure absorbed the weather's assault. The next day, we were without electricity. The building quickly overheated, being designed for air conditioning. Neighbors gathered for a grill-fest of the meat in their fridges—we had to eat it before the bacteria set to work seriously on that task, making the stuff foul-smelling and unpalatable. We gathered around battery-powered radios and listened to weather updates (and audiobooks). I stood in a long line to collect my allocated food and water from FEMA. Driving in Houston became even more hazardous than usual, in the absence of functional traffic lights.

I returned to Galveston after the storm, to move myself out, and to help the organization recover. I found a devastated island. I learned about the dangers brought on by a storm surge.

An excerpt from an email that I sent to friends about the situation on September 26, 2008 (slightly edited):

“I have made my exit from Galveston Texas. I hid safely in Houston during the storm, and my second-floor apartment back on the island was remarkably undamaged. I lost amazingly little property in the storm, only some books that were at the office. The office was not so lucky as my place. The office is located on the ground-floor, but near the highest street on the island. Even so, the storm surge flooded the building up to four feet. Computers, microscopes, binoculars, slide-projectors, many books, and cabinet drawers full of essential grant papers were waterlogged, went swimming, or were overgrown with mold. And this was no ordinary water filling the office. When the water level riseth, the sewer overfloweth. My last day with the organization was spent clearing and cleaning the toxic office. The smell made my head swell and nose run, and I hoped that my rubber gloves and boots were sufficient shield from the brown scum that covered all surfaces that were flooded. The organization lost about 75 per cent of equipment, and the Galveston Bay will be unsafe to kayak for months. All but the four veteran employees were laid off temporarily, and I have decided to migrate onward.”

When the water level riseth, the sewer overfloweth. Even without a Hurricane, there are many dangers to so-called sanitary sewers. Human excrement combines with drain cleaners and industrial chemicals, and is distilled at sewage treatment plants to create toxic sludge. Depending on your municipality, the sludge may be landfilled, incinerated, or applied to agricultural lands. All of these approaches can be hazardous to your health, and none are environmentally sustainable.

There is a better way. I learned about it thanks to The Homestead, and made it my topic for the Homestead Seminar for my senior year. Human excrement or “humanure” can be a valuable resource—if it is composted under the right conditions so as to kill pathogens. Sustainable living-practitioner Joseph Jenkins has authored an invaluable resource on this subject—The Humanure Handbook. (The Composting Toilet System Book by David Del Porto and Carol Steinfield is also a worthy tome.) With composting toilets, we could all be safer and our planet healthier.

Beyond waste management, The Homestead also taught me about temperature management. The strawbale Cabin Bob is cool in the summer with no air conditioning, and comparatively warm in the winter, even when there isn't a fire. Overall, the structure maintains homeostasis considerably better than the apartment complex in Houston. The Homestead has much to teach us about wiser forms of technology.

Cabin Bob and its proud south-facing windows, which capture the sun's warmth in the winter. The structure and its surroundings have evolved considerably since this 2001 photo.

I had intended to include with this post the educational comic/ poster on humanure that I created for my seminar project. I have been unable to find this item, so will post it at a later date. For now, I'll share a sea turtle. These critters are affected by all that occurs around coasts, and will appreciate a transition to sustainable methods.

Love in Washington; Tragedy in Japan; Innovation in Ohio; Hopes for a Sustainable Future

A huge congratulations to my friends Dave Hughes and Erin Stamper, who will be married this Saturday.

I spent the weekend at Mount Baker, Washington, for Dave's bachelor party. What better way to spend one's last weekend as a bachelor than skiing in a winter wonderland?

Left to right: Mark Pascoli, Andy Juechter, Ross Studlar, Dave Hughes, Colin McCrate; photo by Brad Halm

Since returning to town, I have been barely able to leave my computer, as I read, watch, and listen to news with rapt attention.

My heart goes out to the people of Japan. My sorrows and sympathies go to the casualties and their families. I hope that the survivors of the Sendai earthquake and tsunami can recover your lives and livelihoods as soon as possible.

I sincerely hope that the damaged nuclear reactors at Fukushima Daiichi do not have a full-scale meltdown. I also hope that humanity learns from the experience.

satellite image of explosion at unit 3 of Fukushima I nuclear plant on March 14, from Digital Globe

Japan is not the only geologically unstable area with nuclear reactors. A similar or worse event could easily happen in California. As the anti-nuclear activist Harvey Wasserman points out, the nuclear reactors in Japan and the United States are designed to withstand earthquakes with magnitudes of 7.5 on the Richter scale. The Sendai quake had a magnitude of 9.0—over 10 times what the reactors were built to handle. No reactor is earthquake-proof (or terrorist-proof), despite the assurances of industry pundits. I stand with Wasserman that “this technology simply does not belong on this planet.”(1) If only we could get our elected officials to agree! President Obama's 2012 budget currently includes $36 billion in loan guarantees to the nuclear industry, to provide for the construction of new reactors. But with sufficient public pressure, that can be changed.

Civilization is better off with solar energy. It is clean and renewable, and a damaged solar panel will not give anyone radiation sickness. There is no time like the present to launch a full-force effort to transition to sustainable energy sources, solar included. (It would create jobs!)

Harvesting sunlight at The Homestead.
Structures left to right: green outhouse, tool-shed and photovoltaic panels, corner of Cabin 3

As a graduate of The Homestead at Denison University, I have seen the power of renewable energy up close and personal. I even used wrench and screwdriver to install solar panels, and hammer and saw to build parts of a strawbale cabin. The Homestead has always been ahead of the curve when it comes to sustainable technology. Homesteaders installed the first on-site solar-electrical system in 1983 (when I was a wee child in Kentucky); it is one of the oldest continuously-operating photovoltaic systems in Ohio. Homesteaders started work on the strawbale Cabin Bob in 1997; it is one of the first such structures on any U.S. college or university. And Homestead students were building cabins with passive solar heating way back in 1977. As Michael Noble (executive director of Fresh Energy) said, “First you change your lightbulb, then you change the law.”(2) The latter change is markedly more difficult than the former. But The Homestead and places like it give us glimpses of what is possible if we work together. Perhaps that can inspire us to move to change the larger world.

At work on the mudroom of Cabin Bob, 2004, Ross at far right.

1. Harvey Wasserman interviewed on Democracy Now! 13 March 2011, 32:28.
2. Michael Noble interviewed on Fuel (2008 film by Josh Tickell) 1:42:50
Low-resolution version of copyrighted image from Digital Globe is used for educational and informational purposes.

Those clever and compassionate critters

In the beginning of Wild Animals I Have Known, Ernest Thompson Seton writes:

“THESE STORIES are true. Although I have left the strict line of
historical truth in many places, the animals in this book were all
real characters. They lived the lives I have depicted, and showed
the stamp of heroism and personality more strongly by far than it
has been in the power of my pen to tell.”

I feel the same way about the animal stories that I have written and drawn. With pencil, brush, or even film camera, we can only capture faint shadows of the real animals.

Animals show personality, compassion, love, intelligence, insight, foresight, creativity, and a host of other traits that we arrogant humans try to claim are reserved for ourselves.

I recently discovered this video thanks to my Homestead comrade Luke. A story of friendship and compassion between a canine and a pachyderm.

And THIS video shows one of the most impressive displays of insight by an animal. The raven is the star. Biologist Bernd Heinrich presented Ravens with a never-before-seen puzzle, and 80 per cent of them found the solution with no demonstrable trial-and-error learning.

Ravens and their brain-power have become a subject of fascination for many people, including yours truly. I discuss the subject in my Crater Lake campfire presentation “Tricksters in Myth and Science.” And of course, the mythic Raven is co-star of the my epic comic book (right). I have just completed a new mini-comic, which does not involve a raven, but does involve his distant cousins--mergansers, bald eagles, and others. I'll have more to say in an upcoming post, when I announce its release. In the meantime, I'll be drawing more of our wise and caring relatives, the other animals.

Merganser spreads her wings

Thinking Machines

Curious that, right after I post some thoughts about intelligent thinking-machines, IBM's computer Watson soundly defeats the two best human players at Jeopardy. An astounding move forward for computers in understanding human language--which is a feat that continues to challenge even the most sophisticated silicon-based brains.

It seems almost a shame that Isaac Asimov did not live to see this event. However far-fetched it may be, the premise of "The Last Question" now seems slightly more plausible.

It is interesting to note how in discussing Watson's significance for the future, people refer to science fiction works. David Ferrucci, IBM researcher who led the development of Watson, urges us to compare the electronic Jeopardy champ not to the villainous Hal, but to the wise and helpful computer on Star Trek. In a similar vein, the novel Brave New World and movie Gattaga are frequently cited in discussions of the impact of human genetics on the future. Scientists may love or hate these cautionary tales, but cannot avoid them, and the vivid images they create in the minds of the public.

sneak preview (above). Image from my upcoming (not-yet-titled) SF comic book.

Living Dinosaurs

One of my childhood ambitions was to become a paleontologist, to study dinosaurs. A competing ambition was to draw comics for Marvel. I haven't met either goal. In recent years, I have shown greater interest in living animals than extinct ones. Maybe my paleontological dreams have vanished like the great sauropods, or maybe they have simply morphed--evolved--into something new.

Among my sketchbooks and comic book productions, we find a variety of reptiles, as well as their relatives, the amphibians and birds. Among these, we find modern giant reptiles, such as sea turtles and Komodo dragons. Some biologists have described these creatures as 'living dinosaurs.'


Last fall, I encountered a giant amphibian! (Almost a living dinosaur?) It was a giant coastal salamander. Although considerably smaller than me, it was a leviathan by salamander standards, nine inches in length (and they can get bigger.) I chanced upon this critter on a rainy day hike, in a forest just outside Portland, Oregon. Northwest dwellers, these great beasts may be lurking in YOUR backyard, unbeknownst to you. Dear salamander, it is an honor to share the forest.