The Clean Development Mechanism and the Poverty Issue

The Clean Development Mechanism and the Poverty Issue

By

Marie Blévin*

The Clean Development Mechanism (CDM) is one of the flexible mechanisms set forth by the Kyoto Protocol. The mechanism is designed to help Annex 1 Countries meet their greenhouse gas emissions reduction commitment by implementing a project in a Non-Annex 1 Country hosting the project, a project that must also enhance sustainable development in the host country. While there is no formal definition of sustainable development, one aspect of it is poverty eradication. The UNFCCC has recognized that climate change and poverty are linked. Because the CDM is the only mechanism involving developing countries, this Article analyzes the impacts of this mechanism on poverty alleviation. The first Part of the Article focuses on the current system and its failure as it relates to poverty eradication; neither the poorest countries nor the most vulnerable populations benefit from the CDM projects. The second Part of this Article focuses on possible modifications of the CDM to better address poverty, analyzes the financial schemes imagined or implemented to supplement the CDM, comes to the conclusion that the CDM is probably not an adequate solution to poverty eradication, and advocates for a new financial system to supersede the current mechanism. (This Article was written before the Cancún Summit on Climate Change.)

I. Introduction

The Clean Development Mechanism (CDM) was introduced late in the Kyoto negotiations, and was in fact referred to as the ‘Kyoto Surprise.’[1] It is one of the three market-based mechanisms created by the Kyoto Protocol in 1997 to contribute to reducing emissions of greenhouse gases (GHGs), and the only one involving developing countries.[2] Defined at Article 12 of the Kyoto Protocol, the objective of the CDM “shall be to assist Parties not included in Annex I in achieving sustainable development and in contributing to the ultimate objective of the Convention, and to assist Parties included in Annex I in achieving compliance with their quantified emission limitation and reduction commitments under Article 3.”[3] A CDM project must be approved by the host country and the investor country’s Designated National Authorities (DNA),[4] and registered with the Executive Board (EB)[5] established by the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change (UNFCCC).[6] The CDM project helps reduce GHG emissions in the host country by enabling the developed country to meet its obligation through this flexible means and by allowing the creation of Certified Emissions Reductions (CERs), which are carbon credits that can be sold and traded on the developed countries’ carbon markets.[7] The registration of the project and the issuance of CERs are overseen by the EB, with the objective of “ensuring [CDM] environmental integrity.”[8]

The two main goals of this mechanism are one, to help Annex I Countries meet their GHG emissions reduction objective, and two, to promote sustainable development in the Non-Annex I Countries where the projects are implemented.[9] Non-Annex I Countries range from fast growing economies—Brazil, China, India—to Least Developed Countries (LDCs) and Small Island Developing States (SIDS) with weaker economies and infrastructure.[10] The CDM is thus seen as a tool to limit climate change effects and to improve the situation in the developing countries, through capacity building, infrastructure, and technology transfer.[11]

Eradication of extreme poverty and hunger is the first goal set by the United Nations members as part of the Millennium Development Goals.[12] A way to achieve that goal is to “[s]upport research and development in yield-enhancing agricultural and climate change technologies.”[13] The Conference of the Parties acknowledged the link between climate change, sustainable development, and poverty eradication in 2002 in the Delhi Ministerial Declaration on Climate Change and Sustainable Development, in which the Conference called for “energy policies [that] are supportive to developing countries’ efforts to eradicate poverty.”[14] The United Nations Development Programme (UNDP) also recognized that theoretically, the CDM could be used as a tool to alleviate poverty.[15] Investors bring finance and technology to developing countries, allowing efficient and innovative measures to enhance the quality of life of the population, while reducing GHG emissions in that country.[16]

Out of the two goals of the CDM, the current system primarily focuses on the first objective, GHG emissions reduction, without realizing the possibilities for poverty eradication. This is favored by the fact that the host country alone, through its DNA, can assess whether the project achieves sustainable development.[17] Host countries have therefore no specific incentives to accept projects with a greater effect on sustainable development over projects carrying a high reduction of GHGs, but with an insignificant impact on sustainable development and poverty alleviation. A study conducted in 2007 about the CDM and sustainable development concluded that “left to market forces, the CDM does not significantly contribute to sustainable development.”[18]

The first CDM project was registered in 2005,[19] and since then, more than 5,600 projects have been carried out, registered, or are currently in the pipeline.[20] The success of this new mechanism is obvious; it has attracted investors in many developing countries and has helped transfer to Non-Annex I Countries the technology needed to reduce GHG emissions.[21] However, questions remain. What has been, and currently is, the impact of the CDM on the poverty issue? Do the CDM projects foster sustainable development and improve standards of living in the host countries, in terms of quality of air, water, and access to natural resources or employment? How do impoverished populations really benefit from the CDM project revenue? A 2007 review of the first sixteen registered CDM projects found that less than one percent of the GHG reductions achieved through these projects had a significant impact on sustainable development.[22] An Ad Hoc Working Group on Further Commitments for Annex I Parties under the Kyoto Protocol, in preparation of documents for further negotiations post-Copenhagen, sought to promote co-benefits of the CDM projects and explicitly stated that one of these co-benefits should be “poverty eradication.”[23] Climate change related mechanisms could play an important role to alleviate poverty, but so far, the poverty eradication goal has been left aside.

In the first Part of the analysis, this Article establishes that the implementation of CDM projects has been inadequate. The Article points to the reasons that limit a more effective implementation of the CDM in poor countries, especially the LDCs, SIDS, and Africa. The second Part summarizes and assesses the proposals made by different states and organizations to better implement the CDMs, as well as envisions other solutions that would better address the poverty issue.

II. The CDM and the Poverty Issue: A Failure?

The CDM was created to benefit both developed and developing countries. It enables all Non-Annex I Countries to host a CDM project and benefit from its revenue.[24] Unfortunately, only a few countries have benefited from the CDM.[25] First, this leads to questions of the effectiveness of the CDM on eradicating poverty in the poorest countries. Second, it raises questions about whether in fast growing developing countries or in the most vulnerable countries, the CDM projects truly benefit the poorest populations and help enhance their lives, which is likely the core issue to evaluate.

A. CDM and the Poorest Countries

1. The Unbalanced Distribution of the CDM Projects: Major Host Countries

The inequity in the regional distribution of the CDM projects is a recognized fact: one of the mandates of the EB is indeed to report to the Conference of the Parties serving as the Meeting of the Parties (COP/MOP) about the geographical distribution of the CDM project activities, identifying the barriers to a more equitable distribution.[26] To understand the repartition of the CDM projects worldwide, Table 1 below shows the evolution, from 2004 to 2009, of the CDM projects in the pipeline in the biggest four host countries: Brazil, China, India, and Mexico.


Table 1: Evolution of CDM projects in the pipeline in Brazil, China, India, and Mexico as a fraction of all the projects, from January 2004 to March 2009.[27]

The implementation of the CDM projects reveals an unequal focus on some countries. As of 2004, as indicated in Table 1, Mexico, India, China, and Brazil represented about 50% of the CDM projects in the pipeline.[28] Except for a decrease in 2004–2005, the number of CDM projects in the pipeline in these host countries has been constant and fluctuates between 65% and 85% of all projects.[29] Concerning the registered projects, as of March 2010 Brazil, South Africa, India, China, and Mexico account for about three quarters of all projects,[30] while other African countries account for less than 2% of the aggregate number of registered projects, with thirty-eight projects as of the beginning of 2010.[31] This data demonstrates that the CDM projects, whether already registered or still in the pipeline, are principally implemented in a small number of countries. The distribution of the CDM projects is therefore clearly unequal, with these five countries hosting more than 2,250 projects.[32]

According to a list published by the World Bank, in 2010 China’s Gross Domestic Product (GDP) ranks second worldwide, Brazil ranks seventh, India ninth, Mexico thirteenth, and South Africa twenty-eighth.[33] The majority of CDM projects are therefore implemented in countries with a high GDP, whereas only a quarter of these projects are distributed among the rest of the Non-Annex I Countries.[34] A high GDP does not necessarily mean that the population of the country does not live in poverty. For example, India’s GDP ranks ninth worldwide,[35] yet more than 40% of its population lives on less than one U.S. dollar per day.[36]

However, the link between a high GDP and a high number of CDM projects must be noted. Investments are mainly made in countries with a high GDP and fast growing economies.

2. The CDM Projects in the Least Developed Countries, Small Island Developing States, and Africa

The LDCs is a category of countries designated by the United Nations.[37] Whether a country falls within the category is determined by three criteria: 1) low per capita income, 2) weak human assets, and 3) economic vulnerability.[38] With regards to climate change, the LDCs are considered the most vulnerable and the least able to adapt to the various effects of global warming.[39] Special attention is given to the LDCs in the UNFCCC in Article 4.9, which states: “The Parties shall take full account of the specific needs and special situations of the [LDCs] in their actions with regard to funding and transfer of technology.”[40] However, the text of the Kyoto Protocol does not refer explicitly to the LDCs. As shown in Table 1, the CDM projects are not particularly focused on the LDCs.[41] Should it therefore be concluded that, while the UNFCCC calls for the effects of global warming on the most vulnerable countries to be taken into account, the Kyoto Protocol CDM’s main focus is not necessarily the development of the poorest countries? Have sustainability improvement and poverty alleviation in the poorest countries been forgotten in the implementation of the CDM?

The EB has recognized the inequitable distribution of CDM projects. In 2006, it requested the Parties to submit their observations relating to the systemic barriers to an equitable distribution of CDM project activities.[42] All submissions acknowledged the barriers, and two of the primary reported obstacles were “a need for increased financial resources to assist in building requisite capacity and [] innovative means of project financing/risk management.”[43] The Nairobi Framework was launched in 2006 to address this issue.[44] It is designed to promote CDM projects in the poorest countries, with a particular focus on African countries, and to enhance the geographical distribution of the projects.[45] The Nairobi Framework strives to “[b]uild capacity in developing CDM project activities[,] [b]uild and enhance capacity of CDM [DNAs] to become fully operational[,] [p]romote investment opportunities for projects[, and] [i]mprove information sharing[,] outreach[,] exchange of views on activities[,] education[,] [] training[, and] [i]nter-agency coordination.”[46] While this framework is a good step towards improving the geographical distribution of the projects, and though data show that progress has been made,[47] two issues remain. First, the improvement did not reach a truly balanced geographical distribution because Africa, the LDCs, and the SIDS are still underrepresented in the CDM projects. Second, the attempt of the Conference of the Parties to bring more equity into this mechanism does not necessarily address the poverty issue. It is obvious that as more projects are implemented in the most vulnerable countries, more investments and development will result. It is, however, not clear how to best ensure that these investments and technologies benefit the poorest populations.

B. CDM and the Poorest Populations

1. Scope of the CDM: The Poverty Eradication Objective Is Not Taken into Account

Even when CDM projects are implemented in a small number of countries, and not in the most vulnerable, do they meet their objective of sustainable development and poverty alleviation? The World Resources Institute conducted a review of potential projects in China, India, and Brazil, just after the Kyoto Protocol was signed, to assess the benefits of the CDM projects with regards to sustainable development and poverty eradication.[48] According to this study, the long-term benefits of the projects can promote sustainable development;[49] however, on a short-term basis, projects may not necessarily effect employment increases, at least not locally. Indeed, some people will be removed from their land in order to implement certain projects.[50] Moreover, the sustainable development benefits of the CDM projects are often incidental, and not a main objective: “Without careful assessment of the noncarbon attributes, there is a danger that the CDM will become little more than a cost-reduction tool for developed countries legitimized by incidental secondary benefits that may or may not be consistent with developing country priorities.”[51]

Though these projects are implemented in fast growing economies, some of these countries still face extreme poverty.[52] To determine the impact of such projects, the subsequent analysis will focus on the situation of the second largest emitter within the Non Annex I Countries that have ratified the Kyoto Protocol, India.[53] In 2009, India enjoyed a 9% increase in economic growth,[54] but still more than 40% of its population remains below the poverty line.[55]

2. Case Study: CDM Projects in India

The following analysis is based on the 300 most recent CDM projects implemented in India.[56] Out of the twenty-eight states of India and seven union territories,[57] CDM projects are implemented in only twenty-three states and two territories.[58] Out of the regions that host at least one CDM project, the figures shed light on the fact that projects are concentrated in seven regions, namely Rajasthan, Gujarat, Karnataka, Maharashtra, Andra Pradesh, Uttar Pradesh, and Tamil Nadu.[59] These regions account for over 60% of the projects, as indicated in Table 2.[60] It is therefore obvious that the CDM projects in India are implemented only in a small part of the country and that most parts of the country are completely ignored.

 


Table 2: Number of CDM Projects in India by Region[61]

 

 

The comparison of CDM project implementation to the GDP of each Indian state establishes a link between the implementation of the CDM and the higher economy of these regions.[62] On the other side, when we look at the poverty rate and take the five states with the highest percentage of its population living under the poverty line—the five states being Bihar, Jharkhand, Madhya Pradesh, Orissa, and Uttarakhand—between 38.3% and 46.4% of the population lived under the national poverty line from 2004 to 2005[63]—less than 10% of the total number of projects have been implemented in these states.[64]

The data therefore establishes a clear link between the percentage of people living in poverty and the CDM implementation. The states that receive the most CDM projects, investments, and co-benefits, are the states where income per capita and GDP are generally higher than average.[65] The poorest regions receive few, if any, CDM projects.[66] This illustrates how CDM projects can be unequally distributed within a host country.

If the focus is put on the most recent thirty projects implemented, the trends seem similar: twenty-two projects were registered in the five main host regions—more than 73%—and twelve regions host at least one CDM project.[67] Not only are the CDM projects unequally distributed among developing countries, but the data also illustrates the unequal distribution of the CDM projects among people. This comprehensive—though admittedly not exhaustive—review of the CDM projects reveals that the Kyoto mechanism’s goal of promoting sustainable development and reducing poverty fails to reach the world’s poorest populations.

3. The Institutional Limits Causing the Inefficiency of the CDM Projects Regarding the Poverty Alleviation Objective

a. The Absence of Control and Oversight of the Executive Board over the Relevance of the Project Regarding Sustainable Development and Poverty

Nowhere in the Kyoto Protocol does a definition of the sustainable development concept exist. A commonly agreed upon definition was rejected during the Kyoto negotiations by the developing countries,[68] making the host country responsible for determining whether a project meets the criterion of sustainable development. According to the Bonn Declaration, the Parties agreed “[t]o affirm that it is the host Party’s prerogative to confirm whether a [CDM] project activity assists it in achieving sustainable development.”[69] This prerogative can be the best tool to achieve sustainable development and poverty alleviation.[70] However, it also has the potential to have the most perverse effects—scholars agree on the fact that the determination by the host country “will create the incentive for non-annex 1 countries to set very low sustainable development criteria in order to attract foreign investments [and that] these incentives could lead to a race to the bottom, while the sustainable development objective is most likely to be not fulfilled.”[71] Host countries will therefore not systematically reject projects with low sustainable development and low poverty reduction benefits. It is obvious that host countries benefit from the CDM through foreign investment and technology transfer, but the population is often the last beneficiary of the CDM projects, that is, if it benefits at all.[72] Scholars propose the adoption of common elements that would define sustainable development, such as the employment generated by the project, promotion of biodiversity, poverty alleviation, or improvement of education and training.[73] However, the Parties have not considered this solution. At best, they suggest that DNAs “publish the criteria they use in assessing the contribution of project activities to sustainable development.”[74] This increase of transparency would certainly encourage host countries to implement projects that better fulfill the sustainable development criterion; however, no real control of the impact on development and the poorest populations would be in place. Too often still, host countries focus on the direct economic benefits, such as foreign investments, and treat the social and environmental effects “as an optional extra rather than a central project feature.”[75]

One of the criteria that must be met in order to issue CERs is the additionality of the project. The Kyoto Protocol poses the condition that “[e]mission reductions resulting from each project activity shall be certified . . . [provided that they] are additional to any that would occur in the absence of the certified project activity.”[76] The Marrakesh Accords further explain that “[a] CDM project activity is additional if anthropogenic emissions of [GHGs] by sources are reduced below those that would have occurred in the absence of the registered CDM project activity.”[77] The reduction of GHG emissions must be additional to the level of GHGs that would have been emitted otherwise, according to the baseline scenario.[78] The project developer must therefore demonstrate that his CDM project is additional, following a methodology preapproved by the EB or an original methodology that will subsequently be approved by the EB.[79]

The additionality test has been envisioned by the EB as an essential element in the implementation of the CDM project; it was designed to verify that the project would effectively reduce the GHG emissions and that without the CDM, such a project would not have occurred.[80] In other words, it ensures the “environmental integrity” of the project.[81] However, the efficiency and credibility of the additionality test have been widely criticized.[82] Not only is the test a financial burden for the implementation of small-scale projects, which have been proven to be the best projects to help alleviate poverty,[83] but also the application of the test has often been inaccurate.[84] Because the EB is under-staffed, the additionality is verified by third parties[85] called Designated Operational Entities (DOEs).[86] DOEs, paid by the developer to verify the project, may find a project additional when it is actually controversial.[87] This represents a really high risk of manipulation of the CDM. The additionality test is therefore not a safeguard for the efficiency of the project anymore; it is a challenge to it. As two Stanford professors noted: “[I]n practice, much of the current CDM market does not reflect actual reductions in emissions, and that trend is poised to get worse.”[88] Moreover, the additionality criteria is sometimes distorted to translate into “environmental additionality,” a concept undefined in the Marrakesh Accords, which tends to attribute credits to projects that would be implemented even if they would receive no carbon credits and would reduce only in theory the GHG emissions compared to a hypothetical, more polluting project.[89]

b. The Lack of Incentive to Implement CDM Projects in the Most Vulnerable Countries

Small-scale projects can be developed under the CDM scheme. They benefit from a simplified procedure for their registration and implementation.[90] Yet, three main obstacles to the implementation of CDM projects in the most vulnerable countries can be identified.

First, small-scale projects are often used in rural low-income communities[91] and are often seen as the best tool in the CDM system to address poverty alleviation.[92] Small-scale projects can be implemented in areas where infrastructure does not need to be as developed as for large-scale projects, and local communities can seek employment through these projects.[93] As of March 2011, 43% of the registered CDM projects were small-scale projects.[94] The impact of the small-scale projects on low-income populations can be so important and beneficial that organizations and scholars have called for an even more simplified methodology to establish small and very small-scale projects within the most vulnerable communities.[95] However, the administrative costs of registration and the large investment required for a CDM project usually lead investors to favor large-scale projects, attracted by the economy of scale that they can realize.[96] In contrast, a simplified methodology provides an incentive to investors to promote small-scale projects.[97] Unfortunately, given the problems that already plague the methodology, including the lack of transparency and the lack of accuracy, simplifying the methodology would open the door to more controversies and would not ensure the environmental integrity of small-scale projects. Therefore, while the small-scale project frame is a good first step to reach the poorest populations, the methodology is not currently designed to effectively ensure that sustainable development and poverty eradication remain the center of the projects.

Second, the improvement of the enforcement of investment contracts in the less favored countries must be emphasized. Less favored countries must provide guarantees to the investor; it should not only be the investor’s goal to achieve poverty alleviation, but also the host country’s goal. Host countries must offer a secured legal framework to the investors and must also provide the necessary infrastructure if they wish to attract CDM projects. The Parties to the UNFCCC acknowledged that the lack of stability noticed in these countries is an obstacle to an equal distribution of CDM projects.[98] Hence, it is the responsibility of the most vulnerable host countries to first put in place a viable financial and legal system before trying to attract investors within their territory.

Third, a CDM project helps the developed country to meet its GHG reduction commitment by contributing to the reduction of GHG emissions in a non-capped developing host country. The amount of issued CERs is therefore an important factor for the investors because investors will be able to sell these CERs either privately or on a carbon trading market.[99] Because LDCs, SIDS, and Africa have a very low initial GHG emissions rate, there is consequently little incentive to invest in CDM projects in these countries.[100] The Nairobi Framework takes this logic into account, recognizing that in Africa, the “scope for reducing emissions is correspondingly lower than in other regions.”[101] This is a systemic barrier to an equal distribution of the CDM project activities. Investors need to be presented with some other incentive to implement CDM projects in these low GHG emitting countries.

III. Rethinking the CDM to Take into Account the Poverty Issue

The Parties to the Kyoto Protocol as well as non-governmental organizations have acknowledged the current failures of the CDM,[102] and have proposed different remedies that could potentially address the poverty eradication,[103] but those remedies are more focused on the general sustainable development aspect of the CDM than on directly alleviating poverty. Some changes to the current system could however be put in place in order to put the poverty issue at the center of the fight against climate change.

A. Different Modifications to the CDM System

Various modifications to the current scheme of the CDM projects have been suggested both by the Parties to the UNFCCC and by non-governmental organizations.[104] These modifications would apply at the stage of assessment of the project as well as during its implementation.

1. Stage of Assessment

a. Giving the EB Power of Oversight over the Sustainable Development Aspect of the CDM Projects and Giving It Power of Sanction

As stated above, the host country bears the responsibility of verifying the sustainable development impacts of the CDM project.[105] After being approved by the DOE, the project is then registered with the EB.[106] This registration corresponds to the formal acceptance by the EB of a validated project as a CDM project activity: “Registration is the prerequisite for the verification, certification and issuance of CERs relating to that project activity.”[107] This is a formal power, but the EB does not assess the sustainable development benefits of the project.[108] In order to address this, the Parties to the Convention have asked the EB to take a more executive role in the CDM registration process[109] and the Board has tried to improve transparency and information availability.[110]

Unfortunately, the EB has limited oversight power[111] and chronically lacks personnel resources.[112] The Board indeed admits this fact.[113] Thus, though the CDM is a successful scheme, with a rapidly increasing number of projects, the EB faces a heavy case load, which “frequently require[s] that the Board be in session or in consultations for well over the eight hours planned for a typical meeting day.”[114] Even if the Board had the power and resources to ensure that projects complied with the sustainable development criterion, what kind of sanction would be the most efficient way to address failure to comply? Starting from the hypotheses that a project would not promote “sustainable development” in the host country and that the sustainable development criterion had been agreed upon, different sanctions could be imagined. These include non-issuance of CERs, a diminished number of CERs, and a fine imposed on the developer, host country, or individual DOE.[115]

All these sanctions are financial because it seems inapplicable and irrelevant to simply exclude one host country from the benefit of the CDM system based on the fact that it would have accepted a project that does not address sustainable development, or to exclude an investor from implementing further projects for the same reason. A financial sanction is surely the best way to ensure compliance of the project. However, the first two sanctions, applied after the project starts, probably create too strong of a disincentive for investors, leading them to choose not to implement any projects rather than risk the loss of the financial benefit of CER. Moreover, it would be difficult to assess the real impact of the project before it runs for several years and the calculation of the diminished amount of CER could ultimately be criticized for being discretionary. The third sanction—a fine—which would be applied after the project has already had an impact on the environment, could accurately evaluate social improvement and poverty alleviation, and would therefore be more feasible. The oversight of the EB and its power to sanction would ensure that the project is and remains focused on poverty alleviation after a few years of implementation. The concrete effects of the project could be measured.

The amount of the fine should be determined with precaution; it should be based on the value of the project and the degree of the project’s noncompliance and it should be high enough to serve as a deterrent, yet low enough to prevent investors from withdrawing from the CDM scheme. The problem with this solution, however, is that the project would run for several years, depriving the poorest populations of benefits, before being condemned. Even if the fine amounts were ultimately redistributed to the most vulnerable populations wronged by the CDM project, the objective of sustainable development and poverty eradication would not be achieved solely with the CDM. By any means, given the difficulties of reaching an agreement on measurement, reporting, and verification, even self-verified measures,[116] it seems unlikely that the Parties would agree to include a power of sanction in the mandate of the EB or the Secretariat.

b. Lowering the “Additionality” Test

Some have recommended lowering the additionality requirements for certain projects, certain countries, and certain periods to adjust the distribution of CDM.[117] This may a priori seem tempting but the outcome may not result in a greater consideration of the poorest countries and the poorest populations. The additionality test is a way to ensure environmental integrity, though not always effectively, as demonstrated above.[118] Rather, it would be better to have an organ at the United Nations assess the additionality. A standardized test could however be implemented for the LDCs to lower the administrative costs of CDM. Some have suggested the establishment of a positive list of projects that would not be required to pass the additionality test;[119] this exemption would apply to “certain project types, in certain countries, and for a certain period of time.”[120] Such an approach would allow an adjustment of the CDM distribution, both geographically and activity-wise. However, major obstacles would still have to be overcome; for example, who would determine this list and based on what criteria? Such an approach would likely create the same problem posed by the effort to develop a common definition for “sustainable development.” For example, the geographical focus of this positive list could be easily effectuated by comparing the number of projects historically implemented in each country and allowing the less favored countries to be part of this list, or by including all countries as part of predetermined groups such as the LDCs or the SIDS, or by reference to other factors, such as GDP or the percentage of the population living below the poverty level. The kind of activities to be included in such a list would, however, be more controversial. Each country has different expectations of the CDM.[121] While poverty alleviation is a concern for all developing countries, so too is economic growth, even if a focus on the latter would mean less impact on poverty eradication.[122] Moreover, additionality depends more on the concrete circumstances of the project than on predefined characteristics.[123]

Some non-governmental organizations, such as CDM Watch, have suggested the adoption of a “negative” list of projects that would be unlikely to meet the additionality test.[124] CDM Watch advises that “[t]his negative list should include large hydro power plants since hydropower is a widespread technology that does not need additional support to be built. Moreover, large hydropower projects often have high and sometimes devastating social and environmental costs” and, thus, provide further justification for their inclusion on the “negative” list.[125]

However, the same problem arises as for the positive list. The determination of additionality must be made in accordance with the circumstances of the project. As CDM Watch states itself, “large hydropower projects often have high and sometimes devastating social and environmental costs.”[126] It is a general feature of these projects that is often noticed, but not systematically. Excluding a project based on this common assumption could also lead to the exclusion of a small number of projects that could be very beneficial to the most vulnerable people.

c. Changing the Criteria of Sustainable Development to a Broader, More Controllable Criterion-Analysis of the “Gold Standard” Proposal

The Gold Standard was established by a small group of non-governmental organizations, including the World Wildlife Fund, to promote the sustainable development aspect of the CDM.[127] As viewed by the UNDP,

The ‘Gold Standard’ . . . represents the first independent best practice benchmark for the CDM and Joint Implementation (JI) greenhouse gas offset projects. It offers project developers a tool to ensure that the CDM and JI deliver credible projects with real environmental benefits and, in so doing, give confidence to host countries and the public that projects represent additional investments in sustainable energy services.[128]

To meet the Gold Standard, eligible projects must be in the renewable energy sector, or energy efficiency sector, and an additionality test is used to assess whether the project would have happened without a CDM.[129] This criterion once again shows the importance of the additionality requirement to ensure environmental integrity of the project. The project’s contribution to social improvement and sustainable development is also verified. The project developer must first apply the UNDP safeguards principles, which include human rights, environmental protection, labor standards, and anti-corruption measures.[130] Then the developer must provide a social and environmental impact assessment and a sustainability-monitoring plan.[131]

What are the benefits of the Gold Standard? The host country of a Gold Standard certified project receives long-term benefits from the project, and such certification “give[s] confidence to host countries and the public that projects represent additional investments in sustainable energy services.”[132] Though the projects and developers that meet the Gold Standard’s criteria do not receive extra credit or more investment opportunities, they can benefit from the network of the Gold Standard Organization to sell their credits. They can use a logo indicating that their project has received the Gold Standard certification and can advertise that fact.[133] These incentives are, however, minor, and probably explain the low number of Gold Standard certified projects listed.[134] It is interesting to point out that the majority—105 projects, or 57%—of these projects, although applying the Gold Standard and being focused on sustainable development, are implemented in Brazil, South Africa, India, China, and Mexico.[135] Once again, the distribution of CDM projects, even if they are oriented towards social improvement and poverty eradication, is unequal and fails to reach the poorest countries and people.

2. Stage of Implementation

a. Constraining the Issuance of CER

One solution could be to limit more drastically the amount of CER that can be generated by CDM projects. Currently, in Europe for instance, the Directive 2004/101/EC allows operators of the Member States to use reduction units as well as CERs, within a limit of a percentage of their respective allowances.[136] In France, for example, operators can use a maximum amount of CERs, up to 13.5% of France’s allowance.[137] Limiting the amount of CER would probably actually favor the GHG emission reductions, by limiting the amount of controversial non-additional projects and by giving more time to the EB to exercise more than a purely formal control over the project. However, the amount of CER actually traded on the markets is only a very small portion of the total amount offered for sale.[138] It would be thus useless to set forth such a solution without modifying the structure and functioning of the EB.

Another way of constraining the issuance of CER would be to impose on Annex I Countries the obligation to get a certain percentage of the CERs issued from “highly” sustainable projects. This idea seems the most functional in theory. Annex I Countries could take commitments to favor some kind of projects, and Non-Annex I Countries could also decide, under the supervision of the UNFCCC, to develop a particular type of project on their territories. However, this would require a sharp definition of sustainability and high sustainability and would necessitate the overview of the project by an unbiased third party—not the project developer, not the DOE, and not the host country. For the reasons stated above—the quasi impossibility to obtain a commonly agreed definition of sustainable development,[139] and the lack of financial and personal resources of the host countries to approve the projects[140]—this solution would be, in the current situation, irrelevant.

b. Applying a Coefficient to CERs Issued from Certain Projects (Country or Industry) that Favor the Poorest Populations

It has been suggested that a coefficient be applied to CER issued from certain projects that are implemented in predetermined countries, and then to multiply the amount of CER in order to promote those projects that favor the poorest populations.[141] Although it would certainly create a good incentive for investors to develop projects in the forgotten countries, a coefficient applied to the CERs issued according to the kind of project would in fact render this system more harmful than beneficial.

According to this suggested adaptation of the CDM framework, if a given project impacts social and poverty alleviation in the host country, a coefficient should be applied at the issuance of the CERs, so that they would therefore be valued more.[142] For example, if a multiplying coefficient was applied to the equivalent of one metric ton of reduced carbon dioxide (CO2), a given project might be allowed to issuance of 1.20 or 1.30 CER. This would be prima facie a good incentive to investors, who would be able to compensate the low amount of CO2 to be reduced in the LDCs, SIDS, and Africa, and who would find an economical balance between the money invested and the outcome of it. However, this system would likely fail the very first goal of the Kyoto Protocol, that of reducing GHG emissions.[143]

The investors would indeed sell on the carbon market more emission allowances than actual emission reductions, and thus allow the carbon credit buyers to acquire more credits than actually allocated overall. It could be possible to imagine a minus coefficient applied to projects less focused on sustainable development and poverty eradication, in order to balance the amount of credits available on the carbon markets. However, this scheme would require not only a very complex calculation of the credits issued with a minus or bonus coefficient,[144] but also the imposition on investors, on an aggregate scale, to invest in a set amount of bonus coefficient projects and a set amount of minus coefficient projects at the same time, in order to achieve balance.

B. How to Redesign the CDM to Tackle Poverty?

In addition to modifying the mechanism and the framework of the CDM to better address the poorest countries’ expectations of the CDM, financial resources must be incorporated to supplement the current system. Adaptation to climate change and transition to a greener and more sustainable economy will require not only political support both from developed and developing countries, but also strong financial support.

Stanford University Professor, Michael Wara, has suggested the creation of an international fund to supersede the current CDM system.[145] He suggests that this fund be based on the model of the Multilateral Fund for the Implementation of the Montreal Protocol.[146] This fund, to which developed countries contribute, provides financial assistance to developing countries in the phasing-out of the use of ozone-depleting substances (ODS).[147] The fund acknowledges the common but differentiated responsibilities of all countries in the depletion of the ozone layer.[148] The fund delivers financial and technical assistance to developing countries enabling them to comply with their ODS reduction commitments as set forth in the Montreal Protocol, by having the developed countries bear “any additional costs incurred by developing countries in transitioning away from ODSs to new, ozone-friendly chemicals.”[149] The fund, created about twenty years ago, [150] has proven to be successful, with more than 6,700 projects supported—as of December 2010—and with a total reduction of more than 459,910 tons of ODS.[151]

For Professor Wara, a climate fund is the real alternative to the CDM.[152] However, if modeled after the Multilateral Fund for the Implementation of the Montreal Protocol (Multilateral Fund), the climate fund advocated by Professor Wara would suffer the same defaults as the ones pointed out in the CDM framework. The Multilateral Fund sets criteria for the approval of projects, including those “with potential for the most cost-effective and efficient reduction in the emission of controlled substances.”[153] Yet no single criterion holistically considers sustainable development.[154] The fund suggested by Professor Wara would therefore provide no guarantee regarding poverty alleviation. It would obviously help developing countries transition to technologies emitting less GHG, but would not necessarily link the projects to poverty eradication in order to address the needs of the most vulnerable populations. The Multilateral Fund, just as the CDM scheme, gives competence to the host country for the approval of the project[155] and creates no incentive to invest in projects impacting poverty.

Financial mechanisms dedicated to sustainable development and poverty alleviation are already in place under the authority of the World Bank. Beginning in 1999 with the Prototype Carbon Fund,[156] the World Bank later developed more funds, including the Community Development Carbon Fund (CDCF),[157] the BioCarbon Fund,[158] the Italian Carbon Fund,[159] and the Spanish Carbon Fund.[160] The CDCF particularly targets poverty.[161] It unites donors from both the public and private sectors, nine governments, and sixteen corporations, and promotes projects with a special focus on social benefits.[162] This fund specifically addresses the poverty issue by encouraging investors to carry out “small scale projects that measurably benefit poor communities and their local environment.”[163] Established in 2003, the fund has however only contributed to the implementation of thirty-three projects as of April 2010.[164] Further, the fund can be criticized extensively for its partiality and inefficiency,[165] inter alia, because of its “schizophrenia”[166] in promoting sustainable development and poverty eradication on the carbon market while supporting fossil-fuel industries at the same time under the influence of northern nations,[167] in sustaining a small number of projects in comparison with the amount of financial support, in its workings with a global network of countries and enterprises,[168] and in its inability to distance itself from the interests of the northern nations and corporations.[169]

The funds that the World Bank administers with one government seem to be a better response to these critics. The Spanish Carbon Fund was created in 2005[170] and has already financed twenty projects[171] with a capital of $344 million in U.S. dollars.[172] This fund is surely one of the most active and successful funds created by the World Bank in partnership with a government. It eludes some of the critics, such as the influence of some countries in particular, and has proven to be, on a smaller scale, more efficient than the CDCF. This kind of fund could be a global response to the drawbacks of the CDM system, and supplement rather than supersede the CDM, provided that all Annex I Countries implemented such a financial mechanism. However, to date, only the Spanish,[173] Italian,[174] Danish,[175] and Dutch[176] governments have taken such a step and unless more governments, and especially large GHG emitters such as the United States, imitate them, this can only be a temporary and incomplete answer.

With a number of flaws and a failure to alleviate poverty, the CDM system could obviously be improved. What if the real solution to address poverty eradication actually came from the directly concerned countries? The Annex I Countries, the World Bank, and the EB can reform the current scheme, but those best able to analyze and design a mechanism, whether purely financial or market-based, are the poorest nations and the poorest communities. Who can better assess the needs and the responses? And what if the solution had already been put on the table? A fund called the Clean Development Fund was envisioned by developing countries upon a proposition from Brazil at the dawn of the Kyoto negotiations.[177] It would have relied on the polluter pays principle and would have urged the developed countries to comply with their Kyoto Protocol commitments.[178] Failure to do so would have triggered a financial obligation, and obliged the non-complying parties to contribute to the fund.[179] This fund would then have contributed to sustainable development in the poor and poorest countries and would have helped to alleviate poverty.[180] This would have had the same effect as the financial sanctions discussed above, and would have been a major incentive to reduce GHG emissions as well as to tackle poverty. This fund was, unfortunately, eventually abandoned and translated into a market-based mechanism during the negotiations under the impulsion of the northern countries, especially the United States.[181] Thus, the CDM scheme was born. At a time when all governments, civil society organizations, and companies are wondering about the future of CDM, the worldwide poverty issue, and the “post-Copenhagen” regime, it may be time to remember the “pre-Kyoto” world to finally link two of the most tragic and vital issues of our generation—climate change and poverty.

 



* LL.M., Georgetown University Law Center, 2010; Master of Laws, University of Paris II Panthéon-Assas, France, 2007; Bachelor of Laws, University of Fribourg, Switzerland, 2005. I would like to thank Professor Edith Brown Weiss, for her guidance, expertise and encouragement during the writing of this paper, as well as Abigail Cook-Mack, for her friendship, patience, and precious help, and Juan Garicano, for his indefectible support. Un grand merci to my mother, without whom nothing would be possible. Finally, I would like to express my immense gratitude to all the staff at Environmental Law for their hard work.

[1] Franck Lecocq & Philippe Ambrosi, The Clean Development Mechanism: History, Status, and Prospects, 1 Rev. Envtl. Econ. & Pol’y 134, 134 (2007).

[2] Marcos A. Orellana, Climate Change and the Millennium Development Goals: The Right to Development, International Cooperation and the Clean Development Mechanism, SUR Int’l J. on Hum. Rts., Jun. 2010, at 145, 151, available at http://www.surjournal.org/eng/conteudos/
pdf/12/08.pdf; Energy & Env’t Grp., U.N. Dev. Programme, The Clean Development Mechanism: A User’s Guide 11 (2003), available at http://www.undp.org/energy/docs/
cdmchapter1.pdf (“The CDM is the only flexibility mechanism created by the Kyoto Protocol that involves developing countries.”).

[3] Kyoto Protocol to the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change, art. 12, ¶ 2, Dec. 11, 1997, 2303 U.N.T.S. 162 [hereinafter Kyoto Protocol].

[4] United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change, Montreal, Can., Nov. 28–Dec. 10, 2005, Dec. 3/CMP.1, Rep. of the Conference of the Parties Serving as the Meeting of the Parties to the Kyoto Protocol: Part Two: Action Taken by the Conference of the Parties Serving as the Meeting of the Parties to the Kyoto Protocol at its First Session, Annex, Modalities and Procedures for a Clean Development Mechanism, ¶ 40(a), U.N. Doc. FCCC/KP/CMP/2005/8/Add.1 (Mar. 30, 2006), available at http://unfccc.int/resource/docs/2005/
cmp1/eng/08a01.pdf [hereinafter Montreal Rep. of the COP/MOP Part Two].

[5] Id.

[6] See Kyoto Protocol, supra note 3, art. 12, ¶ 4; see also Baker & McKenzie, CDM Rulebook: Executive Board, http://www.cdmrulebook.org/65 (last visited July 17, 2011) (stating that the Kyoto Protocol established the EB).

[7] See Energy & Env’t Grp., supra note 2, at 11.

[8] United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change, Copenhagen, Den., Dec. 7–18, 2009, ¶ 11, Annual Rep. of the Executive Board of the Clean Development Mechanism to the Conference of the Parties Serving as the Meeting of the Parties to the Kyoto Protocol, 5, U.N. Doc. FCCC/KP/CMP/2009/16 (Nov. 4, 2009), available at http://unfccc.int/resource/docs/2009/
cmp5/eng/16.pdf [hereinafter CDM Executive Board Annual Rep.].

[9] Kyoto Protocol, supra note 3, art. 12, ¶ 2.

[10] United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change, List of Non-Annex I Parties to the Convention, http://unfccc.int/parties_and_observers/parties/non_annex_i/items/2833.php (last visited Mar. 26, 2011); Dominic Wilson & Roopa Purushothaman, Dreaming with BRICS: The Path to 2050, at 3 (2003), available at http://www2.goldmansachs.com/ideas/brics/
book/99-dreaming.pdf; United Nations Conference on Trade and Development, UNCTAD Recognition of the Challenges Faced by ‘Other Structurally Weak, Vulnerable and Small Economies,’ http://www.unctad.org/templates/Page.asp?intItemID=5875&lang=1 (last visited Jun. 9. 2011); see also United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change, Parties & Observers, http://unfccc.int/parties_and_observers/items/2704.php (last visited Mar. 26, 2011) (describing Annex I and Non-Annex I parties).

[11] See Wolfgang Sterk et al., Wuppertal Inst. for Climate, Env’t & Energy, FKZ KI I 4- UM08 41 727, Further Development of the Project-Based Mechanisms in a Post-2012 Regime 13–14, 33–34, 59, 82 (2009) (discussing expectations of the CDM and assessing the success of the CDM in meeting those expectations) [hereinafter Wuppertal Inst. Final Rep.].

[12] United Nations, United Nations Millennium Development Goals, http://www.un.org/
millenniumgoals/poverty.shtml (last visited July 17, 2011) (listing the goals in numerical order).

[13] United Nations, High-Level Event on the Millennium Development Goals: Fact Sheet (Sept. 25, 2008), available at http://www.un.org/millenniumgoals/2008highlevel/pdf/newsroom
/Goal%201%20FINAL.pdf.

[14] United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change, New Delhi, India, Oct. 23–Nov. 1, 2002, The Delhi Ministerial Declaration on Climate Change and Sustainable Development, U.N. Doc. FCCC/CP/2002/L.6/Rev.1, at 3 (Nov. 1, 2002), available at http://unfccc.int/resource/docs/cop8/l06r01.pdf.

[15] See Energy & Env’t Grp., supra note 2, at 12.

[16] Id. at 11–12.

[17] Montreal Rep. of the COP/MOP Part Two, supra note 4, at ¶ 40(a).

[18] Karen Holm Olsen, The Clean Development Mechanism’s Contribution to Sustainable Development: A Review of the Literature, 84 Climatic Change 59, 59 (2007).

[19] Secretariat of the U.N. Framework Convention on Climate Change, CDM: First Emission Credits Issued Under the Kyoto Protocol, http://cdm.unfccc.int/CDMNews/issues/issues/
I_WJHSF1N67JGAORWII2BKVAI8O74B5A/viewnewsitem.html (last visited July 17, 2011).

[20] Secretariat of the U.N. Framework Convention on Climate Change, CDM in Numbers, http://cdm.unfccc.int/Statistics/index.html (last visited July 17, 2011).

[21] See United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change, CDM Bazaar, http://www.cdmbazaar.net/ (last visited July 17, 2011) (showing recent activity of sellers, buyers, and service providers in the carbon market. And providing profiles for buyers and sellers of available CDM projects and demonstrating the overall success of the

CDM through the large participation of buyers and sellers).

[22] Alexander Bozmoski et al., Prosperous Negligence: Governing the Clean Development Mechanism for Markets and Development, Environment, May/June 2008, at 18, 22.

[23] See United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change, Copenhagen, Den., Dec. 7–15, 2009, Ad Hoc Working Group on Further Commitments for Annex I Parties Under the Kyoto Protocol, U.N. Doc. FCCC/KP/AWG/2009/10/Add.1/Rev.2, at 11 n.5 (Nov. 16, 2009) (memorializing Bolivia’s concern that developing countries have a sufficient share of global emissions to meet development needs and address poverty).

[24] U.N. Env’t Programme et al., Implementing CDM Projects: Guidebook to Host Country Legal Issues 18 (Paul Curnow & Glenn Hodes eds., 2009).

[25] See discussion infra Part II.A.1.

[26] Montreal Rep. of the COP/MOP Part Two, supra note 4, ¶ 5(h).

[27] U.N. Env’t Programme Risoe Ctr., CDM Projects by Host Country, http://cdmpipeline.org/
cdm-projects-region.htm (last visited July 17, 2011) (demonstrating project numbers in the table entitled, “All CDM Projects in the Pipeline in Brazil + Mexico + India + China as a fraction of all projects”).

[28] See id.

[29] See id.

[30] See Secretariat of the U.N. Framework Convention on Climate Change, CDM: Registration, http://cdm.unfccc.int/Statistics/Registration/NumOfRegisteredProjByHostPartiesPieChart.html (last visited July 17, 2011) [hereinafter CDM: Registration] (listing separate countries with corresponding project numbers alongside illustrative pie chart).

[31] See id.

[32] See id.

[33] World Bank, World Development Indicators Database: Gross Domestic Product 2010, at 1 (2011), available at http://siteresources.worldbank.org/DATASTATISTICS/Resources/
GDP.pdf (last visited July 17, 2011) (enumerating the 2010 GDP rankings by country).

[34] See CDM: Registration, supra note 30.

[35] World Bank, supra note 33, at 1.

[36] U.N. Statistics Div., Millennium Development Goals Indicators, http://unstats.un.org/unsd/
mdg/Data.aspx?cr=356 (last visited July 17, 2011) (click on the “Series Data” tab to reveal the 1994 statistic of 49.4% of the Indian population living on less than one dollar per day and the 2005 statistic of 41.6% of the Indian population living on less than one dollar per day).

[37] See U.N. Office of the High Representative for Least Developed Countries, Landlocked Developing Countries & Small Island Developing States, Least Developed Countries: Criteria for Identification of LDCs, http://www.unohrlls.org/en/ldc/related/59/ (last visited July 17, 2011).

[38] Id. (explaining the criteria used by the Committee for Development Policy to identify LDCs).

[39] U.N. Conference on Trade & Dev., Clean Development Mechanism (CDM) in Least Developed Countries, http://www.unctad.org/Templates/Page.asp?intItemID=4345&lang=1 (last visited July 17, 2011).

[40] United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change, art. 4, ¶ 9, May 9, 1992, 1771 U.N.T.S. 107, available at http://unfccc.int/resource/docs/convkp/conveng.pdf.

[41] See supra tbl. 1 (showing that the majority of CDM projects are slated for Mexico, Brazil, China, and India).

[42] United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change, Clean Development Mechanism Executive Board: Proposed Agenda and Annotations: Twenty-Sixth Meeting, Annex 4, Equitable Distribution of Clean Development Mechanism Project Activities – Analysis of Submission, at Attachment A, ¶ 1 (Sept. 26–29, 2006), available at http://cdm.unfccc.int/EB/026/
eb26annagan4.pdf [hereinafter CDM Executive Board Agenda].

[43] Id. at 2.

[44] See United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change, Fact Sheet: The Nairobi Framework, at 1 (June 2010), available at http://unfccc.int/files/press/backgrounders/
application/pdf/fact_sheet__nairobi_framework.pdf.

[45] See id.

[46] Id.

[47] See Dir. of Sustainable Dev. Mechanisms Programme, Nairobi Framework: Achievements and Challenges, at 5 (Dec. 11, 2009), available at http://cdm.unfccc.int/Nairobi_Framework/
cop15_se_091211_nf.pdf.

[48] See Duncan Austin et al., Climate Notes: How Much Sustainable Development Can We Expect from the Clean Development Mechanism? 4–5 (1999), available at http://pdf.wri.org/cdm-note.pdf.

[49] Id. at 4, 12.

[50] See Star Hydropower ltd., Resettlement Planning Document: Pakistan: Patrind Hydropower Project 6–7 tbl.6.5 (2011), available at http://www.adb.org/Documents/
Resettlement_Plans/PAK/44914/44914-01-pak-rp-draft-01.pdf (summarizing key displacement effects discussed in resettlement plan of proposed hydropower project); see also Kevin A. Baumert & Elena Petkova, How Will the Clean Development Mechanism Ensure Transparency, Public Engagement, and Accountability? 4 (2000), available at http://pdf.wri.org/pp-note.pdf (“CDM projects might include a number of project types that, while reducing emissions, negatively affect local communities. Electric power or forestry projects, for example, could involve a controversial facility siting, resettlement of populations, the purchase of private or public lands, and even some adverse local environmental consequences.”).

[51] Austin et al., supra note 48, at 2, 4.

[52] See World Bank, World Development Indicators 2010, at 4 (2010), available at http://data.worldbank.org/sites/default/files/wdi-final.pdf (“Since 2000, 49 countries have attained the rate of poverty reduction needed to cut 1990 poverty rates by half and achieve the target. Thirty-eight remain off track and unlikely to reach the target.”).

[53] See World Bank, Data: Indicators: CO2 Emissions (kt), http://data.worldbank.org/
indicator/EN.ATM.CO2E.KT/countries/1W?display=default (last visited July 17, 2011) (listing India numerically as the third largest emitter of carbon dioxide in 2007 behind China and the United States; thus second of Non-Annex I Countries).

[54] World Bank, World Development Indicators 2011, at 11, tbl.1.1 (2011), available at http://siteresources.worldbank.org/DATASTATISTICS/Resources/wdi_ebook.pdf (listing the percent growth of India from 2008–2009 as 9.1%).

[55] See U.N. Dev. Program, Human Development Report 2010, at 119 (2010), available at

http://hdr.undp.org/en/media/HDR_2010_EN_Complete_reprint.pdf (listing 2000–2008 statistics showing India with a population of 41.6% living below the poverty line of earning $1.25 per day).

[56] United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change, CDM: Project Search, http://cdm.unfccc.int/Projects/projsearch.html (last visited Jun. 20, 2011) (select “[Advanced Search];” then select “India” in drop down bar entitled “Host Country” and “Registered” in drop down bar entitled “Status;” include only the 300 projects from the last one in May 2010 to April 2007).

[57] Gov’t of India, States and Union Territories, http://india.gov.in/knowindia/state_uts.php (last visited July 17, 2011).

[58] United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change, supra note 56 (tabulating results from the 300 projects between April 2007 and May 2010 and sorting them by state and territory as indicated within the “Title” column of the results generated from the search).

[59] Nat’l CDM Authority, Welcome to NCDMA Website, http://cdmindia.in/reports_new.php (last visited July 17, 2011) (select “State Wise Approved Projects” in drop down bar entitled “Select Report type;” then select “All” in “State” drop down bar; click “Search” box; results displayed show each of these seven regions has more than one hundred CDM projects).

[60] See infra tbl. 2; see also Nat’l CDM Authority, supra note 59 (showing 1,331 projects registered on June 13, 2011, out of a total of 2001 registered projects).

[61] United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change, supra note 56 (generating a table compiling the results).

[62] Compare Nat’l CDM Authority, supra note 59 (listing CDM project numbers by state), with VMW Analytic Services, Economy of the Federal States For Year 2010 & Population for Year 2011, http://unidow.com/india%20home%20eng/statewise_gdp.html (last visited July 17, 2011) (listing the 2010 GDPs for individual Indian states, with Maharashtra, Uttar Pradesh, Andra Pradesh, Tamil Nadu, and Gujarat ranked first through fifth, respectively, Karnataka ranked seventh, and Rajasthan ranked eighth).

[63] See Department of Evaluation & Applied Research, Tamil Nadu – An Economic Appraisal 2006-07 & 2007-08, pt. II, tbl.19.5, at S-132, available at http://www.tn.gov.in/
dear/archives/year2006_07_08/tab/Poverty5.pdf (listing by state the number and percentage of the population below the poverty line based on Uniform Recall Period (URP) consumption).

[64] Nat’l CDM Authority, supra note 59 (showing that of 2,001 CDM projects, Bihar (with six projects), Jharkhand (with thirty projects), Madhya Pradesh (with fifty projects), Orissa (with seventy-two projects), and Uttarakhand (with none), comprise 7.9 % of the projects in India).

[65] Compare Nat’l CDM Authority, supra note 59 (listing CDM project numbers by state), with VMW Analytic Services, supra note 62 (listing GDP and rank by state).

[66] Id.

[67] United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change, supra note 56 (include only the thirty most recent projects from the last one in May 2010 counting backwards).

[68] See Aaron Cosbey et al., Realizing the Development Dividend: Making the CDM Work for Developing Countries 58 (2005), available at http://www.iisd.org/pdf/2005/climate_
realizing_dividend.pdf.

[69] United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change, Bonn, Ger., July 16–27, 2001, Dec. 5/CP.6, Review of the Implementation of Commitments and of Other Provisions of the Convention, U.N. Doc. FCCC/CP/2001/L.7, at 8 (July 24, 2001), available at http://unfccc.int/
resource/docs/cop6secpart/l07.pdf.

[70] See Michael Wara, Measuring the Clean Development Mechanism’s Performance and Potential, 55 UCLA L. Rev. 1759, 1773–74 (2007); Justin K. Holcombe, Protecting Ecosystems and Natural Resources by Revising Conceptions of Ownership, Rights, and Valuation, 26 J. Land Resources & Envtl. L. 83, 94 (2005).

[71] Hans Curtius & Tobias Vorlaufer, The Contribution of the CDM to Sustainable Development in China: A Case Study of the Emerging Biogas Sector 13 (2009), available at http://www.frankhaugwitz.info/doks/cdm/2009_12_China_The_Contribution_of_CDM_to_Sustainable_Development%20_in_China.pdf (citing Christoph Sutter et al., Does the Current Clean Development Mechanism (CDM) Deliver Its Sustainable Development Claim? An Analysis of Officially Registered CDM Projects, 84 Climatic Change 75, 76 (2007) http://www.springerlink.com/content/v3443650vg65p127/ (internal quotations omitted)).

[72] Bozmoski et al., supra note 22, at 20, 22.

[73] Cosbey et al., supra note 68, at 15 box2.

[74] United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change, Copenhagen, Den., Dec. 7–18, 2009, Draft Decision -/CMP.5, Proposal by the President, Further Guidance Relating to the Clean Development Mechanism, Conference of the Parties Serving as the Meeting of the Parties to the Kyoto Protocol, ¶ 46, U.N. Doc. FCCC/KP/CMP/2009/L.10, at 6 (Dec. 18, 2009), available at http://unfccc.int/resource/docs/2009/cmp5/eng/l10.pdf.

[75] Energy & Env’t Grp., supra note 2, at Annex II, A-12.

[76] Kyoto Protocol, supra note 3, art. 12, ¶ 5–5(c).

[77] United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change, Marrakesh, Morocco, Oct. 29–Nov. 10, 2001, Dec. 17/CP.7, Report of the Conference of the Parties on Its Seventh Session, Held at Marrakesh From 29 October to 10 November 2001, Annex, Modalities and Procedures for a Clean Development Mechanism,  43, U.N. Doc. FCCC/CP/2001/13/Add.2 (Jan. 21, 2002), available at http://unfccc.int/resource/docs/cop7/13a02.pdf.

[78] Id. ¶¶ 43–44.

[79] Ministère de l’Économie, des Finances et de l’Industrie et al., Climate Change : Guide to the Kyoto Protocol Project Mechanism: Volume B: The Clean Development Mechanism (CDM) 31, 45 (2d ed. 2004) ; see generally U. N. Framework Convention on Climate Change, Clean Development Mechanism: CDM Methodology Booklet (2010), available at https://cdm.unfccc.int/methodologies/documentation/meth_booklet.pdf (summarizing the CDM approved baseline and monitoring methodologies).

[80] Ben Pearson & Yin Shao Loong, The CDM: Reducing Greenhouse Gas Emissions or Relabelling Business As Usual? (2003), available at http://www.twnside.org.sg/title/cdm.doc.

[81] CDM Watch, Recommendations for the Efficiency in the Operation of the CDM and Opportunities for Improvement 1 (2009), available at http://cdm.unfccc.int/public_inputs/2009/
cdmimprov/cfi/4XLOTEVWY44QZDOT8ROOFNKL4PMCHS.

[82] See, e.g., Pearson & Loong, supra note 80.

[83] Centre for Environmental Strategy, University of Surrey et al., Encouraging CDM Energy Projects to Aid Poverty Alleviation: Attachment 5: Institutional Structures and Capacity Building for the CDM 7 (2003), available at http://www.dfid.gov.uk/r4d/PDF/
Outputs/R80377.pdf.

[84] Barbara Kresch Haya, Carbon Offsetting: An Efficient Way to Reduce Emissions or to Avoid Reducing Emissions? An Investigation and Analysis of Offsetting Design and Practice in India and China 6 (2010) (unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, University of California, Berkley), available at bhaya.berkeley.edu/docs/HayaDissertation.pdf.

[85] Micheal W. Wara & David G. Victor, A Realistic Policy on International Carbon Offsets 14 (Stanford Univ., Working Paper No. 74, 2008), available at http://iis-db.stanford.edu/pubs/22157/
WP74_final_final.pdf.

[86] Secretariat of the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change, CDM: Designated Operational Entities, http://cdm.unfccc.int/DOE/index.html (last visited July 17, 2011).

[87] See Wara & Victor, supra note 85, at 14.

[88] Id. at 5.

[89] See Int’l Rivers Network & CDM Watch, The Good, the Bad, and the Dammed Ugly: Status Note on Large Hydro and the Clean Development Mechanism 3 (2003), available at http://www.internationalrivers.org/files/gbduirncdmwatch.pdf.

[90] See Montreal Rep. of the COP/MOP Part Two, supra note 4, at Dec. 4/CMP.1, 30 (describing at (b) how Annex II will contain “simplified modalities and procedures for small-scale clean development mechanism project activities”).

[91] Emily Boyd et al., Small-Scale Forest Carbon Projects: Adapting CDM to Low-Income Communities, 17 Global Envtl. Change 250, 257 (2007) (concluding that “[s]mall-scale afforestation and reforestation projects under the CDM can provide a much needed contribution to livelihood strategies among the rural poor”).

[92] See Carbon Finance Business, World Bank, Community Development Carbon Fund: CDCFplus: Helping to Make the CDM a Reality for More Developing Countries, available at http://wbcarbonfinance.org/docs/CDCFPlusBrochureNEW.pdf; Int’l Bank for Reconstruction and Dev., World Bank, 10 Years of Experience in Carbon Finance: Insights from Working with the Kyoto Mechanisms 55 (2010), available at http://siteresources.worldbank.org/
INTCARBONFINANCE/Resources/10_Years_of_Experience_in_CF_August_2010.pdf (discussing the success of the Community Development Carbon Fund in linking poverty reduction with climate change mitigation).

[93] See Int’l Bank for Reconstruction & Dev., supra note 92, at 76.

[94] Secretariat of U.N. Framework Convention on Climate Change, CDM: Registration, http://cdm.unfccc.int/Statistics/Registration/RegisteredProjByScalePieChart.html (last visited July 17, 2011).

[95] CDM Executive Board Agenda, supra note 42, at 3, 7–11; Jenny E. Henman et al., Feasibility and Barriers to Entry for Small-Scale CDM Forest Carbon Projects: A Case Study from the Northeastern Peruvian Amazon, 3 Carbon & Climate L. Rev. 254, 262–63 (2008); see also Boyd et al., supra note 91, at 258 (describing simplified CDM methodologies as necessary, but insufficient in itself to make small-scale forest projects successful).

[96] Int’l Bank for Reconstruction & Dev., supra note 92, at 54.

[97] Id. at 82, 89–90, 101.

[98] CDM Executive Board Agenda, supra note 42, at Attachment A, ¶ 8.

[99] Diva Rodriguez, Climate Action Programme, Carbon Reduction Guide: Understanding Carbon Credits, http://www.climateactionprogramme.org/carbon_reduction/carbon_dioxide_
emissions_understanding_carbon_credits/ (last visited July 17, 2011). One CER amounts to the equivalent of one metric ton of CO2. U.N. Framework Convention on Climate Change, Kyoto Protocol Reference Manual: On Accounting of Emissions and Assigned Amount 118 (2008), available at http://unfccc.int/resource/docs/publications/08_unfccc_kp_ref_manual.pdf.

[100] Isabel Hagbrink, Why So Few Carbon Projects in Africa?, Climate Change Team of the Env’t Dep’t of the World Bank (Mar. 11, 2010), http://blogs.worldbank.org/
climatechange/why-so-few-carbon-projects-africa (last visited July 17, 2011); U.N. Office of the High Representative for the Least Developed Countries, Landlocked Developing Countries and Small Island Developing States, The Impact of Climate Change on the Development Prospects of the Least Developed Countries and Small Island Developing States, at 5 (2009), available at

http://www.unohrlls.org/UserFiles/File/LDC%20Documents/The%20impact%20of%20CC%20on%20LDCs%20and%20SIDS%20for%20web.pdf.

[101] Nairobi Framework: Achievements and Challenges, supra note 47, at 6.

[102] Climate Action Network Int’l, Views on Possible Improvements to Emissions Trading and the Project-Based Mechanisms 4–6 (2009), available at http://unfccc.int/resource/docs/
2009/smsn/ngo/119.pdf; U.N. Framework Convention on Climate Change, Executive Board Annual Report 2010: Clean Development Mechanism 7, 9 (2010) available at http://unfccc.int/
resource/docs/publications/10_cdm_anrep.pdf. The Executive Board is composed of representatives of different Parties, as well as non-government affiliated members. See U.N. Framework Convention on Climate Change, CDM Executive Board, http://cdm.unfccc.int/EB/
index.html (last visited May 25, 2011) (click on red “members” link of “The CDM EB members” on right hand side to view the current board and member affiliations).

[103] Barry Kantor, Sustainable Development Within the Climate Context SouthSouthNorth and the Clean Development Mechanism, 44 UN Chronicle (2007), http://www.un.org:80/wcm/
content/site/chronicle/cache/bypass/home/archive/issues2007/pid/5018?ctnscroll_articleContainerList=1_0&ctnlistpagination_articleContainerList=true (last visited July 17, 2011).

[104] Christiana Figueres & Charlotte Streck, The Evolution of the CDM in a Post-2012 Climate Agreement, 18 J. Env’t & Dev. 227, 233–34, 238–39 (2009); see UNFCC Secretariat Releases New AWG-KP Document on Possible Improvements to Emission Trading and Project-Based Mechanisms, Int’l Inst. for Sustainable Dev. Reporting Servs, Mar. 12, 2009, at para.1, http://climate-l.iisd.org/news/unfccc-secretariat-releases-new-awg-kp-document-on-possible-improvements-to-emission-trading-and-project-based-mechanisms/ (last visited July 17, 2011).

[105] See supra Part II.B.3.a.

[106] United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change, Montreal, Can., Nov. 28–Dec. 10, 2005, Report of the Conference of the Parties Serving as the Meeting of the Parties to the Kyoto Protocol: Part One: Procedures, ¶ 35, U.N. Doc. FCCC/KP/CMP/2005/8/ (Mar. 30, 2006), available at http://afoludata.jrc.ec.europa.eu/events/Kyoto_technical_workshop/08.pdf.

[107] Montreal Rep. of the COP/MOP Part Two, supra note 4, ¶ 36.

[108] See id. ¶ 25 (describing authority and responsibilities of the EB).

[109] CDM Executive Board Annual Rep., supra note 8, ¶ 12.

[110] Id. ¶¶ 115–115(c).

[111] See Montreal Rep. of the COP/MOP Part Two, supra note 4, ¶¶ 5–25 (describing authority and responsibilities of the EB, which is primarily limited to recommendations and reviews, and lacks strong enforcement authority).

[112] E.g., Wara & Victor, supra note 85, at 14 (describing the EB as “massively under-staffed” and thereby forced to rely on third parties for support).

[113] See CDM Executive Board Annual Rep., supra note 8, ¶ 11 (describing the EB’s heavy workload and the staff’s difficulty managing it).

[114] Id. ¶¶ 10–11.

[115] For additional sanction suggestions, see CDM Watch, supra note 81, at 5 (suggesting a variety of sanctions, including suspending DOEs that fail three times to meet key requirements of the CDM and requiring DOEs to replace CERs issued in excess when nonconformities are detected after registration).

[116] See Jan von der Goltz, High Stakes in a Complex Game: A Snapshot of the Climate Change Negotiating Positions of Major Developing Country Emitters 11–13 (Ctr. for Global Dev., Working Paper No. 177, 2009) (describing the wide disparity of views among countries on the best way to measure and report, including disagreements over whether it should be conducted by national or international authorities).

[117] CDM Executive Board Agenda, supra note 42, at 3 (describing at (c) how “additional” should also be considered for specific cases depending on project type, individual countries, and discrete periods of time).

[118] See supra Part II.B.3.a.

[119] See Letter from Steven Kaufman, Principal Consultant, Sunrise Techs. Consulting, LLC, to Haus Carstanjen, Secretariat, U.N. Framework Convention on Climate Change 2 (Apr. 12, 2010) (on file with recipient), available at http://cdm.unfccc.int/public_inputs/2010/
additionality_ren_nrj/cfi/DP4S5URGWXKF6K0C9IRIPQGHG4LNE9 (urging the EB to establish a “positive list, specifying, inter alia, technology applications considered additional to business as usual because they face barriers that generally prevent their implementation without measures to overcome the barriers”).

[120] CDM Executive Board Agenda, supra note 42, at 3.

[121] See, e.g., African Biodiversity Network et al., The CDM and Africa: Marketing a New Land Grab 3–4 (2011), available at http://www.africanbiodiversity.org/system/files/PDFs/
CDM%20Report_Feb2011_lowres.pdf (discussing the wealth and development desired in Africa, with an emphasis on the use of its wide-open spaces and the attendant problems); Michael Pollan, Opportunities for GHG Mitigation in Latin America: Carbon Finance and the Clean Development Mechanism 5–8 (2005), available at http://idbdocs.iadb.org/wsdocs/
getdocument.aspx?docnum=1481598 (discussing Latin America’s concern with finding funding opportunities).

[122] See Wara, supra note 70, at 1764 (noting that the majority of CDM projects in the developing world have gone to countries that are growing most quickly, thus allowing economic growth to trump poverty eradication in terms of project distribution).

[123] See Wuppertal Inst. Final Rep., supra note 11, at 20 (2009) (emphasizing that additionality can never be a wholly objective exercise); id. at 113–15 (providing an example of a project-specific additionality assessment in China).

[124] CDM Watch, supra note 81, at 3.

[125] Id.

[126] Id.

[127] World Wildlife Fund, Gold Standard, http://wwf.panda.org/what_we_do/how_we_work/
businesses/climate/offsetting/gold_standard/ (last visited July 17, 2011) (listing the creators and defining the Gold Standard as “an independently audited, globally applicable best practice methodology for project development that delivers high quality carbon credits of premium value along with sustainable development co-benefits associated with the projects”).

[128] Energy & Env’t Grp., supra note 2, at A-11.

[129] Wuppertal Inst. Final Rep., supra note 11, at 49, 51 (noting the types of projects that are eligible under the Gold Standard and the additionality test required).

[130] Id. at 14 (noting that under the Gold Standard, the UNDP safeguarding principles must be applied); id. at 51–52 (describing the UNDP safeguarding principles and outlining the different categories in table 8).

[131] Id. at 53.

[132] Energy & Env’t Grp., supra note 2, at A-11; see also Wuppertal Inst. Final Rep., supra note 11, at 49 (noting the long-term benefits that flow to a CDM host country such as local sustainable development and investment in renewable energy not based on fossil fuels).

[133] Gold Standard Foundation, Benefits of GS Certification, http://www.cdmgoldstandard.org/
Benefits-of-GS-Certification.116.0.html (last visited July 17, 2011).

[134] Gold Standard Foundation, Gold Standard CDM/JI Projects (2010), https://gs1.apx.com/
myModule/rpt/myrpt.asp?r=113 (last visited July 17, 2011) (listing 183 projects as of April 2011, and an even smaller number of registered and validated projects at thirty-five as of March 2011).

[135] Id.

[136] Council Directive 2004/101, art. 5, 2004 O.J. (L 338) 18–20 (EC).

[137] Ministere de l’Ecologie et du Developement Durable, République Française, Projet de Plan National d’Affectation: Des Quotas d’Emission de Gaz A Effet de Serre (PNAQ II) (Periode: 2008 à 2012), at 26 (Apr. 20, 2007).

[138] Karsten Neuhoff, Carbon Pricing for Low-Carbon Investing 6 (2011), available at http://www.climatepolicyinitiative.org/files/attachments/88.pdf.

[139] See supra text accompanying notes 68–75.

[140] See supra text accompanying notes 85–89. Only a small portion of the developing countries were first able to establish a DNA—only nine of more than seventy developing countries that have ratified the Kyoto Protocol as of March 2004. Carbon Finance Business, supra note 92.

[141] CDM Executive Board Agenda, supra note 42, at 3.

[142] See Wuppertal Inst. Final Rep., supra note 11, at 204–05 (explaining multiplication and discount features under the CDM and how they can be used to promote desired projects).

[143] See Kyoto Protocol, supra note 3, at art. 2, ¶ 1–1(a)(viii), art. 3, ¶ 1.

[144] Wuppertal Inst. Final Rep., supra note 11, at 22.

[145] Wara, supra note 70, at 1765, 1801.

[146] Id.

[147] Id.; see Montreal Protocol on Substances that Deplete the Ozone Layer art. 10, Sept. 16, 1987, 1522 U.N.T.S. 3 (describing how Parties shall cooperate and promote technologies to assist each other).

[148] Secretariat of the Multilateral Fund for the Implementation of the Montreal Protocol, About The Multilateral Fund: Overview, http://www.multilateralfund.org/aboutMLF/default.aspx (last visited July 17, 2011) (articulating the agreed upon principle that countries will work to protect and manage the global commons).

[149] Wara, supra note 70, at 1801.

[150] Secretariat of the Multilateral Fund for the Implementation of the Montreal Protocol, supra note 148 (stating that the Multilateral Fund was established in 1990).

[151] U.N. Multilateral Fund Secretariat, Welcome to the Multilateral Fund for the Implementation of the Montreal Protocol, http://www.multilateralfund.org/default.aspx (last visited July 19, 2011).

[152] See Wara, supra note 70, at 1801–03.

[153] U.N. Multilateral Fund Secretariat, Multilateral Fund for the Implementation of the Montreal Protocol: Policies, Procedures, Guidelines and Criteria 279 (2010), available at http://www.multilateralfund.org/files/Policy61.pdf.

[154] See id.

[155] Id.

[156] World Bank Carbon Fin. Unit, About Prototype Carbon Fund (PCF), http://wbcarbonfinance.org/Router.cfm?Page=PCF&FID=9707&ItemID=9707&ft=About (last visited Mar. 28, 2011).

[157] World Bank Carbon Fin. Unit, About Community Development Carbon Fund (CDCF), http://wbcarbonfinance.org/Router.cfm?Page=CDCF&ft=About (last visited Mar. 28, 2011).

[158] World Bank Carbon Fin. Unit, BioCarbon Fund, http://wbcarbonfinance.org/
Router.cfm?Page=BioCF&ItemID=9708&FID=9708 (last visited Mar. 28, 2011).

[159] World Bank Carbon Fin. Unit, Italian Carbon Fund, http://wbcarbonfinance.org/
Router.cfm?Page=ICF&ItemID=9710&FID=9710 (last visited Mar. 28, 2011).

[160] World Bank Carbon Fin. Unit, Spanish Carbon Fund, http://wbcarbonfinance.org/
Router.cfm?Page=SCF&ItemID=9714&FID=9714 (last visited Mar. 28, 2011).

[161] See World Bank Carbon Fin. Unit, supra note 157.

[162] Id.

[163] Aditi Sen, Carbon Finance Unit, World Bank, Making Carbon Finance Work for the Poor (2009), available at http://siteresources.worldbank.org/INTCARBONFINANCE/Resources/
CDCF_brochure_final.pdf.

[164] Id. (stating that the CDCF was established in 2003); Carbon Fin. Unit, World Bank, 2009 Annual Report: Carbon Finance For Sustainable Development 4 (2009), available at http://siteresources.worldbank.org/INTCARBONFINANCE/Resources/11804Final_LR.pdf.

[165] For a critique of both this fund and general World Bank Carbon Policies, see Daphne Wysham, A Carbon Rush at the World Bank, Durban Group for Climate Justice, Feb. 2. 2005, http://www.durbanclimatejustice.org/articles/a-carbon-rush-at-the-world-bank.html (last visited Mar. 30, 2011).

[166] Id.

[167] Id.

[168] See World Bank Carbon Fin. Unit, supra note 157 (discussing financial and organizational support); World Bank Carbon Fin. Unit, Community Development Carbon Fund Project Portfolio, http://wbcarbonfinance.org/Router.cfm?Page=CDCF&ft=Projects (last visited May 25, 2011) (outlining portfolio of about thirty projects).

[169] See Wysham, supra note 165.

[170] Carbon Fin. Unit, supra note 164, at 57.

[171] World Bank Carbon Fin. Unit, Spanish Carbon Fund Project Portfolio, http://wbcarbonfinance.org/Router.cfm?Page=SCF&FID=9714&ItemID=9714&ft=SCFProjectsT1 (listing twenty projects in the Spanish Carbon Fund portfolio).

[172] Carbon Fin. Unit, supra note 164, at 60 (listing $217 million in active projects and $127 million in pipeline projects).

[173] World Bank Carbon Fin. Unit, supra note 160.

[174] World Bank Carbon Fin. Unit, supra note 159.

[175] World Bank Carbon Fin. Unit, Danish Carbon Fund, http://wbcarbonfinance.org/Router.cfm?Page=DCF&ItemID=9713&FID=9713 (last visited Mar. 17, 2011).

[176] World Bank Carbon Fin. Unit, Netherlands European Carbon Facility, http://wbcarbonfinance.org/Router.cfm?Page=NECF&FID=9712&ItemID=9712 (last visited Mar. 17, 2011).

[177] Wysham, supra note 165.

[178] Id.

[179] Int’l Energy Studies Grp., Clean Development Mechanism, http://ies.lbl.gov/CDM (last visited Mar. 17, 2011).

[180] Id.

[181] Wysham, supra note 165.

Transitioning to a Sustainable Energy Economy: The Call for National Cooperative Watershed Planning

Transitioning to a Sustainable Energy Economy: The Call for National Cooperative Watershed Planning

By

Ann E. Drobot*

Recent developments in the Middle East have underscored the national security concerns that arise from America’s reliance on foreign fuels. While Americans stand enraptured by scenes broadcast from the epicenter of historic national uprisings, feelings of hope and support for the advancement of democratic principles are mingled with concerns about how this could impact us at the pump. Breaking America’s dependence on foreign oil is but one driving factor leading policymakers to call for the transformation of the United States energy economy. Climate change is another—and both energy-based challenges are causing policymakers to chart a course toward a “sustainable energy economy,” one that incorporates clean energy technology and the increased use of water-intensive domestic renewable fuels and nuclear power.

This Article explores what the transformation of the United States energy economy to a “sustainable energy economy” will mean for the nation’s water resources. It begins by exploring the interdependency that exists between energy and water, often referred to as the “energy–water nexus,” and specifically highlights the critical role that water plays in energy generation and fuel production. Next, it examines the current threats that forecasted population growth and climate change already pose for the very water resources expected to support this sustainable energy economy. The Article suggests that the path to achieving a sustainable energy economy starts with sustainable water resource management which, because of the energy–water nexus, requires the integration of energy and water-related policies. It goes on to explore the limited degree to which these policy areas have been integrated in existing regulatory regimes and policy initiatives.

The Article concludes that achieving a “sustainable energy economy” will require a large-scale cooperative watershed planning effort—one that will ensure that water resources are available to support and sustain a transformation of the United States energy sector. After addressing some of the legal challenges that may face such a water-based planning effort, the Article identifies recent legislation that could provide a starting point by which to address some of the significant challenges associated with achieving a “sustainable energy economy.”

 

I. Introduction

Climate change looms as a defining issue of the 21st century, pitting the potential disruption of our global climate system against the future of a fossil fuel-based economy.[1]

The United States energy sector exists at the center of this defining issue. Because greenhouse gas emissions from the energy industry are a primary component in what is said to be anthropogenic-induced climate change-related impacts,[2] curbing greenhouse gas emissions from the energy sector has been and will continue to be the focus of the policy debate concerning effective mitigation and adaptation strategies. The United States energy sector also exists at the center of national efforts to break our addiction to foreign oil in order to achieve energy independence. Given that 51% of the 6.9 billion barrels of oil consumed in the United States in 2009 were imported from foreign countries,[3] achieving energy independence will be no small undertaking, particularly in the face of steady forecasted growth in United States’ energy demand.[4] In the context of both climate change and energy independence, developing a “more sustainable energy economy” has become the battle cry for today’s policymakers.

But what does a more sustainable energy economy look like? As described in the current Administration’s National Security Strategy released in May 2010, a more sustainable energy economy incorporates the development of clean energy technology, increases the use of renewable energy, and reinvigorates nuclear power.[5] For example, in response to the “real, urgent, and severe” dangers associated with climate change, the Administration targets actions that will “stimulate our energy economy at home, reinvigorate the United States domestic nuclear industry, increase our efficiency standards, invest in renewable energy, and provide the incentives that make clean energy the profitable kind of energy.”[6]

Similarly, regarding our dependence on foreign oil which “undermine[s] our security and prosperity”[7] and “leave[s] us vulnerable to energy supply disruptions and manipulation and to changes in the environment on an unprecedented scale,”[8] this Administration calls for the transformation of our energy economy, the accelerated deployment of clean energy technologies, and the increased use of renewable and nuclear power.[9]

As well intentioned as policymakers may be to shore up national security, to devise effective climate change mitigation and adaptation strategies, and to lead in the development of clean energy technology—be it for the betterment of our economy or to promote more environmentally sustainable solutions—no single misstep will undermine their efforts to develop this “sustainable energy economy” more than the failure to consider one of the energy sector’s most fundamental components—water. The interdependency between water and energy, often referred to as the “energy–water nexus,”[10] cannot be overstated. Nor can the significance that each plays in today’s society. Our society is dependent on energy. Energy is a fundamental component of delivering clean water; cultivating food; operating industry; powering homes, offices, hospitals, and schools; and providing transportation.

By the same token, our society is dependent on water. Water is essential to life on earth. It is critical to continuing economic activity, to the proper functioning of earth’s environment, and to the maintenance of biodiversity.[11] It is also an essential component in energy generation and fuel production and, as such, will play a key role in whether we achieve energy independence, are successful in climate change-related strategies, or lead in the development of clean energy technology. In essence, water is a key component to developing a “sustainable energy economy.”

Because water is an essential component in developing a sustainable energy economy, ensuring that the demand for water does not outpace the available supply is crucial to achieving these national energy-based goals. Water resource limitations have already interfered with attempts by the energy sector to expand energy production,[12] and the “green” energy sector is not immune from these challenges.[13]

Policymakers should be aware of recent studies that paint a troubling picture of the alarming rate at which our freshwater resources are being depleted.[14] Groundwater levels in some regions have dropped “as much as 300 to 900 feet over the past 50 years”[15] and the rate of aquifer pumping often outpaces the rate of recharge.[16] High demands to meet both human and industrial needs, drought conditions, and contamination contribute to water scarcity in many regions of the United States,[17] including, most recently, the southeast region which historically has housed abundant supplies of freshwater resources.[18] Now, like the southwest, ecological systems in the southeast are starting to exhibit signs of stress as stakeholders scramble to secure their “fair share” of a resource once thought to be limitless.[19]

Recent drought conditions in the southeast region, which reduced water resources to exceedingly low levels and set off water wars between states,[20] provide some insight into the impact that water scarcity could have on energy generation. In water-stressed areas of the country, power plants will increasingly compete with other water users and tradeoffs will occur, raising increasing concerns over which use is more important: water to support domestic uses, food supply, or energy production.[21]

This Article advances the notion that creating a “sustainable energy economy” in support of the current Administration’s energy policies cannot be achieved without first charting a course toward achieving sustainability of our nation’s water resources. Because current energy policies make significant demands on water resources that are already stressed and are expected to undergo even greater assault from increased demands and climate change-related impacts, the path to a sustainable energy economy must involve the integration of two highly compartmentalized policy areas—energy policy and water policy. The integration of these policy areas will start policymakers down the path toward achieving sustainability of our water resources, a goal that this article maintains will require large-scale cooperative watershed-based management and planning that takes into account the dynamics of the energy–water nexus.

Part I of this Article details the energy–water nexus, a concept that describes the interdependency existing between energy and water. The energy–water nexus provides the framework for understanding how decisions made in energy policy could impact our nation’s water resources and, in turn, how the diminished state of these resources could undermine energy-based policy initiatives. This Part details the “water footprint”[22] of various methods of electricity generation and fuel production and briefly addresses the reciprocal side of the energy–water nexus—how water supply is dependent on energy.

Part II provides an overview of the challenges already threatening the sustainability of our nation’s water resources. These challenges include burgeoning population growth—including projected national population shifts—and the concomitant increase in energy and water demands, and climate change-related direct and indirect impacts. This Part provides the contextual framework under which policymakers currently operate when making energy-based policy decisions that could exacerbate challenges already faced by stressed water resources.

Part III explores the limited degree to which energy policy and water policy have been integrated in existing energy-based and water-based regulatory regimes. This Part concludes that, with the limited exception of power generation facilities that fall under the jurisdiction of the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission (FERC) and the Nuclear Regulatory Commission (NRC), we are far from achieving the integration of energy policy and water policy necessary to achieve sustainability of our water resources in support of a more sustainable energy economy.

Part IV explores the current state of national energy policy and water policy and the degree to which recent policy initiatives are, or are not, signaling an integration, by policymakers, of these highly compartmentalized policy arenas. This Part concludes that despite the presence of ongoing dialogue concerning the integration of energy- and water-related issues, with the limited exception of the recently enacted Omnibus Public Land Management Act of 2009 (OPLMA),[23] the integration of energy and water policy necessary to achieve sustainability of our water resources is not taking place on the policy level.

Part V discusses roadblocks in our current legal structure that promise to interfere with legislative efforts to achieve a more sustainable energy economy through the regulation of water resources, including challenges relating to federalism and governance. Part V also proposes a cooperative national watershed planning effort that incorporates the dynamics of the energy–water nexus as one potential solution to the challenges outlined in this Article.

Our already stressed water resources are expected to undergo increasing assault by significant projected population increases, and the resulting demands made on the water and energy sectors, as well as climate change-related impacts and response measures designed to mitigate these impacts. Perhaps unintentionally, this Administration, through its energy policies, has now added developing clean energy technology, increasing the use of renewable energy, and reinvigorating nuclear power—i.e., creating a “sustainable energy economy”—to the burgeoning list of demands being placed on the nation’s water resources. In order to avoid the catastrophic water shortages and significant ecological impacts that await us at the end of our current path, policymakers must develop a clear understanding of the role that water plays in the energy sector and this understanding must provide the framework by which future energy-based policies and decisions are made.

II. The Energy–Water Nexus: How Energy and Water Are Linked

Much has been written on the subject of the energy–water nexus and the interdependency of these two vital resources.[24] With the advent of climate change and the current direction of the nation’s energy policy, the dynamics of the energy–water nexus have increased in import. Because of the energy–water nexus, decisions made concerning energy generation, like increasing the use of nuclear power, as well as decisions made concerning increased use and production of renewable energy sources, can significantly impact water resources.[25] For this reason, policymakers need to be keenly aware of the inextricable link between these two vital resources and the impact that decision-making in the energy policy arena can have on water resources, and vice versa.

For purposes of underscoring potential impacts that energy policy can have on water resources, it is important to understand, as detailed below, that energy generation and fuel production are dependent on water resources. This Part also details the flip side of the energy–water nexus—water production’s dependency on energy. It is important to remember this half of the energy–water equation when considering the energy demand (and related water use) associated with accessing alternative sources of water supply as our nation’s freshwater resources become further depleted.

A. Energy Supply and Fuel Production Are Water Dependent

Water is an integral component in energy production.[26] It plays a vital role in energy generation, including hydroelectric power generation, thermoelectric power plant cooling, and emissions scrubbing.[27] It also plays a vital role in energy resource development, including resource extraction, refining, processing, and transportation.[28]

1. Water Use in the Energy Generation Process

In the context of energy generation, the United States electric industry produced a reported 3,913,771 gigawatt-hours (GWh) of electricity in 2009.[29] In terms of water use, based on an average of twenty-five gallons of water used for every kilowatt-hour (kWh) generated,[30] in 2009 alone, the energy sector used approximately 98 trillion gallons of water in processes related to energy generation.[31]

Hydropower, the most obvious water-dependent energy source, remains an “important component” of United States electricity generation.[32] In 2006, hydropower provided approximately 7% of the nation’s electricity.[33] Water flow through hydroelectric turbines primarily consists of fresh surface water[34] and averages 3,160 billion gallons a day.[35] The United States Geological Survey (USGS) does not report the water used in hydropower generation as “withdrawn” from its source because it remains in-stream and is used repeatedly by successive dams.[36]

Thermoelectric-generating technologies, on the other hand, use steam rather than water flow to drive turbine generators.[37] These plants, which obtain heat from a variety of sources, including oil, coal, nuclear, natural gas, biomass, concentrated solar energy, and geothermal energy, require large amounts of water for plant cooling systems.[38] To operate these cooling systems, United States power plants withdraw water from a variety of sources, including surface water, ground water, fresh water, and saline water.[39] As compared to other water “use categories,” water withdrawals in thermoelectric power generation account for an estimated 41% of all freshwater withdrawals, 61% of all surface water withdrawals, and 94% of all saline water withdrawals in the United States.[40] As much as 99% of thermoelectric power plant cooling requirements are met using surface water withdrawals,[41] approximately 71% of which consist of fresh water.[42] When examined in the context of actual number of gallons used, according to the Department of Energy’s (DOE) most recent statistics, in 2010 thermoelectric power plants are expected to use an estimated 145 billion gallons of the nation’s freshwater resources per day in the electricity generating process.[43]

Thermoelectric power plants located in the southeast region of the United States also reveal demanding water utilization and consumption patterns. Currently, 84% of the nation’s thermoelectric-power-related water withdrawals are occurring in eastern states, with thermoelectric power generally being the largest category of water withdrawal.[44] Power generating facilities located in the southeastern states[45] are responsible for approximately two-thirds of all freshwater withdrawals in that area,[46] drawing approximately 40 billion gallons of water a day.[47] Evaporation resulting from power plant cooling processes in this region causes the annual loss of nearly 140 billion gallons of water, an amount equivalent to the annual water use of more than one million homes.[48]

a. Water Use by Cooling Process

Water use in electricity generation primarily arises in connection with power plant cooling processes[49]—a thermoelectric power plant’s need for water is due to the simple physical law that water can absorb 4,000 times as much heat as air for a given rise in temperature.[50] Fossil and nuclear power plants, accounting for approximately 80% of electric power generating capacity, “require cooling to condense the steam turbine exhaust.”[51] Today’s power plants primarily use water as the cooling medium,[52] withdrawing it mainly from large volume sources such as underground aquifers, lakes, rivers, and oceans.[53] The quantity of water required to cool the plant depends on both the generating and cooling technologies employed at a plant and the ambient meteorological conditions that exist at the plant’s location.[54] Depending on the cooling process utilized, the water used in the cooling process is either consumed by evaporation in cooling towers or returned to its original source.[55] Although not all water used in thermoelectric power generation is “consumed,” a recent DOE report indicates that thermoelectric generation does consume approximately 3.3 billion gallons of water per day.[56]

Conventional power plants, including oil, coal, natural gas, biomass, and nuclear powered facilities, use one of three cooling processes in the generation of electricity: closed-loop, open-loop, and dry-cooling systems.[57] Approximately 56% of conventional power plants use closed-loop cooling systems.[58] In closed-loop systems, the facility withdraws water from a source, cycles it through heat exchangers, allows it to cool in either ponds or towers, and then recirculates it.[59]

Power plants using closed-loop cooling systems withdraw less water initially—approximately 300 to 700 gallons per megawatt-hour (MWh),[60] (these plants account for only 8% of withdrawals by power plants[61])—but have a higher water consumption rate because of the evaporation that occurs during the cooling process.[62] The higher consumption rate requires the power plant to withdraw additional cooling water in order to replace water lost during the cooling process.[63] Approximately 81% of electric generating facilities using closed-loop cooling systems reported consumptive use rates at or more than 50%.[64] These closed-loop cooling systems are more commonly found in the Western United States.[65]

Approximately 43% of power-generating plants use open-loop cooling systems.[66] In open-loop cooling systems, the facility withdraws water from a source and passes it through the condenser only once, then discharges it downstream to a receiving water body.[67] Plants employing the open-loop cooling system withdraw approximately 91% of all water used by power plants.[68] More than half of the nation’s nuclear reactors use the open-loop cooling system.[69]

Although this cooling process requires more water withdrawals upfront than closed-loop cooling systems require (withdrawal rates range from approximately 20,000 to 60,000 gallons / MWh[70]), less water evaporates in the process (usually 200 to 400 gallons / MWh[71]), thereby reducing consumptive use rates as compared to closed-loop cooling systems.[72] However, impacts to water resources caused by the open-loop cooling process are not limited to water consumption. Because open-loop cooling systems often discharge process water at a higher temperature than the receiving water—sometimes by as much as twenty-five degrees Fahrenheit[73]—this practice may alter the temperature of the receiving water, thereby significantly altering the ecosystem[74] and causing increased evaporation from the receiving body of water.[75] Open-loop cooling systems are used in older power plants and are more commonly found in the Eastern United States.[76]

The dry-cooling process is “dependent entirely on air” and therefore uses less water than either the open- or closed-loop cooling systems.[77] However, because this cooling process is most cost efficient in cold, arid environments,[78] only 1% of power generating systems employ dry cooling systems.[79]

A relatively recent Clean Water Act (CWA)[80] provision is likely to have considerable impact on the design of future power generation facilities[81] and, in turn, on the withdrawal and consumption patterns of these facilities. Section 316(b),[82] which is “[d]esigned to protect aquatic life from [] being killed by [cooling water] intake structures,”[83] strongly discourages the use of open-loop cooling systems.[84] This provision is expected to cause the energy sector to transition to a greater use of closed-loop and dry-cooling systems.[85] Because closed-loop cooling systems consume more water in the cooling process than open-loop cooling systems, water consumption levels by the energy sector are expected to increase.[86]

b. Water Use by Fuel Type

Water use at power plants also varies by the type of fuel used to generate the electricity. Understanding this dynamic of the energy–water nexus is particularly important in light of the current energy policies supporting increased use of nuclear power and renewable fuels. Power plants using natural gas, for example, use approximately fourteen gallons of water for every kWh generated.[87] By comparison, coal and waste-incineration plants use approximately thirty-six gallons of water per each kWh generated, and nuclear power plants use a striking forty-three gallons of water for every kWh generated.[88] Giving these numbers some context, in 2006, in the process of generating 877 billion kWh of electricity, natural gas plants used an estimated 12.3 trillion gallons of water.[89] During that same time period, coal-fired power plants, which generated 1,957 billion kWh of electricity, used an estimated 52.8 trillion gallons of water.[90] Nuclear power plants, which generated an additional 787 billion kWh of electricity, used an estimated 33.8 trillion gallons of water,[91] a significant amount of water for a form of power generation that is increasing in popularity under current energy policy.[92]

Statistics on water withdrawals gathered from three nuclear power plants located in the southeast region also help to put these numbers into perspective. Georgia’s Edwin Hatch Plant, for example, on a daily basis withdraws an average of 57 million gallons from the Altamaha River,” but consumes (or loses to evaporation) 33 million gallons,[93] which is enough to service more than 196,000 homes.[94] Progress Energy’s newest nuclear plant, the Harris Plant located in North Carolina, draws in 33 million gallons a day from Harris Lake, 17 million gallons of which is lost every day to evaporation.[95] Similarly, Duke Energy’s McGuire Plant, also located in North Carolina, withdraws more than 2 billion gallons of water daily from Lake Norman.[96]

Water demands by “renewable” energy-fired power plants like solar thermal or biofuel powered plants do not differ conceptually from demands made by conventional fossil-fuel or nuclear power plants in that these plants still require significant amounts of water in the cooling processes.[97] Electricity production using renewable forms of energy may in fact be more water intensive given the “low energy return on energy investment”[98] ratio for a number of renewables. Corn-based ethanol’s energy production ratio, for example, generates an energy return that varies between 1.2:1 and 1.6:1 (i.e., 1.2 units of energy returned for each unit of required energy input).[99] Compare this with petroleum’s ratio of 15:1.[100] For its part, geothermal electricity production has a relatively low thermal efficiency, which is the ratio of electricity output to thermal energy input, as compared to other electricity generating technologies, meaning it also requires amounts of water similar to nuclear and coal generation.[101]

Policymakers need to be aware that water use in support of electricity generation extends beyond direct electricity generation activities. For example, an alarming amount of water is utilized at nuclear reactor power plants even in the absence of electricity generating activity.[102] Nuclear power plants require water to remove heat produced by the reactor core, to cool equipment and buildings associated with reducing the core’s heat, and to lubricate oil coolers for the equipment, including the main turbine and chillers for air conditioning, responsible for cooling the reactor.[103] During the summer months, the Hope Creek plant in New Jersey uses 52,000 gallons of water per minute, even when not producing electricity.[104] Similarly, even when not producing electricity, the Milestone Unit 2 in Connecticut requires 30,000 gallons per minute and the Pilgrim plant in Massachusetts requires 13,500 gallons per minute.[105]

These statistics underscore the policymakers’ need to be aware of the obvious tradeoffs associated with various fuel types in areas of carbon emissions and water use. For example, nuclear-fired power plants, which are increasing in popularity due to energy policies that promote reduced carbon emissions, use significantly more water than other forms of energy generation. Coal-fired power plants use a significant amount of water and emit high levels of carbon emissions, a seemingly bad choice for power generation in a climate change era. From a cost standpoint, however, coal is considered a cheap and abundant fuel source. Natural gas, on the other hand, uses less water and emits lower carbon emissions than other fuel sources. Perhaps for these reasons, DOE forecasts indicate that 90% of the next 1,000 power plants in the Unites States will use natural gas.[106] That notwithstanding, natural gas use does not come without its distinct set of water-related complications.[107]

The above statistics speak only to water use in the generation of electricity and in the cooling processes at electricity generation plants. Although the energy sector’s demands on water resources during these processes are considerable, water use during energy generation activities only conveys part of the water-dependency dynamic. To understand the full extent of the energy sector’s dependency on water resources, one must also consider the role that water plays in the production cycle of the various fuel types. Policymakers should pay particular attention to the considerable role that water plays in the production of renewable resources—like biofuels—particularly in light of recent energy policies that promote increased production of these fuel sources.

2. Water Use in Fuel Production

In addition to playing an integral role in electricity generation, water is a vital player in the extraction, refining and processing, and transportation of fossil fuels (including oil, coal, and natural gas), nuclear power, and renewable resources (including hydropower, biomass, geothermal energy, wind, and solar).[108] For example, the United States energy sector consumes between one and two billion gallons of water per day solely in connection with petroleum refinement processes.[109] A brief survey of water use in the production cycle of various fuel types further highlights this dimension of the energy–water nexus.

a. Oil

Domestic petroleum is produced from underground locations where impervious rock forms prevent the petroleum from migrating to the surface.[110] While oil’s initial extraction does not require significant amounts of water, enhanced oil recovery (EOR) techniques used to extract oil once deposits become depleted frequently involve the injection of water or steam into a well.[111] The quantity of water used in EOR can range from approximately eighty-one gallons per barrel of oil to 14,000 gallons of water per barrel of oil, depending on the age of the oil field and the method of EOR employed.[112] The refining process can also be water intensive. According to DOE estimates, petroleum refineries use one to two billion gallons of water per day[113] and consume between 1 and 2.5 gallons of water for each gallon of product.[114]

b. Oil Shale

Oil shale is carbonate rock that is rich in an organic sedimentary material called “kerogen,” which, when heated, is converted to a synthetic crude-like oil called “shale oil.”[115] According to the DOE, oil shale is emerging as a potential United States fuel source[116] with an estimated 2 trillion barrels of this “unconventional oil resource[]” contained in oil shale deposits located throughout Colorado, Utah, Wyoming, Kentucky, Ohio, and Indiana.[117]

The development of oil shale resources requires significant quantities of water.[118] Mining and aboveground processing (referred to as “retorting”) together consume an estimated two and five gallons of water per gallon of refinery-ready oil (fifteen to thirty-eight gallons per million British thermal units (MMBtu)).[119] To meet water demands associated with processing this fuel source,[120] an oil shale industry that produces 2.5 million barrels of oil per day (MMBbl/d) is estimated to require between 105 and 315 million gallons of water per day.[121] Policymakers exploring this potential fuel source should be aware that the more arid conditions of portions of the region containing oil shale deposits may increase the challenges associated with obtaining the water resources necessary to support a sizeable oil shale industry.[122]

c. Coal

Coal, the primary source of energy production in the United States, contributed approximately 45% of the United States’ power between January 2010 and July 2010.[123] Coal-fired generation, which increased 13.3% between July 2009 and July 2010, makes up over half of the 10.1% increase in net power generated in the United States over that same time period.[124] “[C]onversion of coal to energy requires . . . mining, processing, transportation, and combustion.”[125] Depending on the source of the coal, estimates for water use in coal mining vary between 10 to 100 gallons per ton of coal mined (ranging from one to six gallons per MMBtu).[126]

Once extracted from surface or underground mines, much of the mined coal is cleaned or washed to increase heat content by removing noncombustible material, including approximately 80% of Eastern and interior coal.[127] Water requirements for coal washing range from twenty to forty gallons per ton of coal washed (one to two gallons per MMBtu).[128] When applied against 2003 coal industry production data, water use estimates in coal mining range from 70 to 260 million gallons per day.[129]

d. Natural Gas

Between January 2010 and July 2010, natural gas power plants contributed 22.9% of the power generated in the United States.[130] Natural gas has been identified as an important “bridge fuel”[131] in the effort to reduce our reliance on fossil fuels and transition to more “sustainable” energy resources.[132] “The production of natural gas from conventional domestic sources . . . peaked in 1973,”[133] and, companies now access unconventional sources of gas, like shale gas, through a procedure known as “hydraulic fracturing.”[134] By 2035, the U.S. Energy Information Administration (EIA) predicts that shale gas will make up more than 35% of domestic natural gas production.[135]

Water is an essential component of both the drilling and deep shale fracturing process.[136] Shale fracturing requires operators to drill vertically thousands of feet underground at which point they deviate the drill bit and drill laterally through the shale—in some locations, more than 3,500 feet.[137] The wells are then “fractured” by pumping large volumes of “fracking fluid,” the primary constituent of which is water, at high pressure, into the well boring.[138] The intent is to release trapped gas by fracturing the shale.

The volume of water needed in the hydraulic fracture operation can vary substantially based on local conditions.[139] According to the New York Department of Environmental Conservation, a single well requires between 2.4 million and 7.8 million gallons of water and a fractured well “may require up to 3 million gallons of water per treatment.”[140] The DOE estimates that natural gas production uses approximately 400 million gallons of water per day.[141]

e. Nuclear

Nuclear power plants contributed 19.5% of the power generated in the United States between January 2010 and July 2010.[142] The nuclear fuel cycle involves uranium mining and processing (milling, conversion, enrichment, and fuel fabrication).[143] While nuclear power plants require more cooling water than any other electric power generating plant, when compared to other fuels, the water requirements for mining and processing uranium are minimal. “Water required for uranium mining varies from less than 1 gal[lon] per MMBtu for underground mining to 6 gal[lons] per MMBtu for surface mines.”[144] Uranium processing consumes an additional estimated seven to eight gallons per MMBtu.[145] Because the majority of uranium process mining and enrichment facilities are located outside of the United States, United States’ water resources are not implicated in much of the mining and processing activities.[146] With respect to domestic mining and processing activities, the DOE estimates that water use in domestic uranium mining and processing ranges from approximately 3 to 5 million gallons of water per day.[147]

f. Biomass

Because of its significant water demands, biomass production has come under significant scrutiny.[148] The term “biomass” includes a “wide variety of renewable plant materials that [are] converted to provide various sources of energy.”[149] Although renewable energy resources[150] (including biomass, geothermal, solar, and wind) contributed only 4.2% of the power generated in the United States between January 2010 and July 2010,[151] this number is expected to increase significantly as a result of the nation’s energy policies which call for the increased use and production of these energy sources.

Many renewable energy fuel sources make considerable demands on water resources, a dynamic of the energy–water nexus that policymakers should not overlook. Ethanol, for example, “the most commonly produced biofuel in the United States,”[152] incorporates water into its production cycle at two stages: in the growing of feedstock, which can be very water intensive, and in the refining process, which uses a modest amount of water by comparison to biofuel production.[153] Depending on where the corn is grown and whether it is irrigated, water requirements associated with ethanol production can range from 7 to 321 gallons of water per gallon of ethanol produced.[154] Water is introduced in the refining process through either the wet milling or dry milling processes.[155] A dry mill corn-ethanol facility, the most common ethanol refining process,[156] uses approximately four gallons of water per gallon of ethanol produced.[157]

In keeping with the national energy policy calling for increased use of and production of renewable resources, ethanol production rose to 9 billion gallons in January 2008, a 130% increase from January 2005.[158] Using 2008 ethanol production statistics to quantify the potential impact of ethanol production on water resources, water used to grow corn to produce ethanol ranged from 63 billion to 2.8 trillion gallons of water, while water used in the refinement process added another 36 billion gallons to ethanol’s water price tag.[159]

B. The Reciprocal Side: Water Supply Is Energy Dependent

Additional evidence of the interdependency between water and energy can be found on the flip side of the energy–water nexus. Not only is energy production water dependent, but also water production is energy dependent.[160] Meeting “the Nation’s water needs requires energy for supply, purification, distribution, and treatment.”[161] According to a recent report to Congress on the interdependency of energy and water, approximately 4% of United States power generation nationwide is used to supply and treat water.[162] In fact, electricity represents an estimated 75% of the costs associated with municipal water processing and distribution.[163]

Of all energy-dependent activities associated with municipal water supply, pumping is by far the most energy-intensive.[164] The amount of energy required for pumping water depends on the accessibility of the water in terms of depth and in terms of location of the water source in relation to the consumer. For example, pumping water from a depth of 120 feet consumes approximately 540 kWh per million gallons of water.[165] By comparison, as much as 2,000 kWh per million gallons is consumed when pumping water from a depth of 400 feet.[166]

The State of California provides us with a clear case study in the vital role that energy plays in the distribution of domestic water supply. According to the California Energy Commission 2005 estimates, in 2001 the water sector in California was the biggest electricity consumer in the state,[167] responsible for 19% of the state’s electricity use and 32% of the state’s natural gas use.[168] Electricity consumption of this magnitude results in large part from the distance between the location of the municipal water resource, in northern California, and much of California’s domestic water consumer base, located in southern California.[169] Providing domestic water supply to this consumer base requires California to convey water some 600 miles, a journey that traverses the Tehachapi Mountain range,[170] a costly proposition in terms of energy consumption.

Energy is expected to play an even bigger role in meeting our nation’s water needs as our freshwater resources become increasingly depleted. Additional energy will be required to pump water greater distances, draw water from greater depths, and access alternative sources of municipal supply.[171] These alternative sources of supply oftentimes involve processes that in and of themselves are alarmingly energy intensive.[172] For example, delivering one million gallons of clean water from a lake or river requires approximately 1,400 kWh of energy.[173] Delivering this same amount of water from groundwater and wastewater requires 1,800 kWh and upwards of 2,350 kWh, respectively.[174] Delivering the same amount of water from seawater, on the other hand, demands as much as 16,500 kWh,[175] an extremely energy-intensive process by comparison.

Despite being labeled more energy intensive than any other source,[176] the United States government is increasingly focusing on desalination as a means by which to address growing concerns over water scarcity.[177] Desalination, which most commonly involves the treatment of seawater through reverse osmosis, is a treatment process that consumes up to ten times more energy than traditional treatment of surface water.[178] In fact, energy has been identified as “the largest single variable cost for a desalination plant.”[179]

Because of the energy–water nexus, energy production is implicated in every decision made that relates to alternative sources of water. For this reason, policymakers need to remain alert to the impact that such an increased energy requirement may have on the very water resources they are looking to supplement. Similarly, because of the energy–water nexus, water resources are implicated in every policy decision that relates to energy production.

Given the interdependency between these two vital resources, it is difficult to imagine that policymakers are not taking water resources into consideration when formulating energy policy. As discussed in Parts III and IV, however, United States’ energy policy and water policy remain largely compartmentalized. Current energy policy and the resultant impacts that these policies may have on the nation’s water resources, however, necessitate a shift in this compartmentalized manner of policymaking and a movement toward the integration of these inextricably linked resources in current policy. This is particularly necessary in light of existing stressors that already seek to undermine the sustainability of our water resources.

III. The Gathering Storm: Current and Future Threats to the Nation’s Water Resources

Our nation is already facing challenges in the energy and water sectors brought on by any number of factors, including drought conditions, poor planning, and unfettered patterns of resource utilization and consumption.[180] Water scarcity, in particular, is becoming an issue for many regions of the United States.[181] Even under normal climate conditions, most states predict water shortages within the next ten years.[182] According to experts, however, we are no longer operating under “normal” climate conditions.[183] Predicted impacts from climate change along with increased demands on both the energy and the water sectors fueled by projected population growth threaten to exacerbate already stressed water resources, raising the specter of resource supply disruptions in both sectors and escalating concerns over national security.[184]

A. Potential Impacts from Projected Population Growth

“[R]ising demand for energy—fueled by both population growth and expanding uses of energy—may soon outstrip our ability to supply it with existing resources.”[185] The EIA predicts the United States population to increase by approximately 70 million people by 2021,[186] with the Census Bureau projecting the population to reach as high as 420 million by 2050.[187] In the context of electricity production, the EIA projects that “259 gigawatts of new generating capacity—the equivalent of 259 large coal-fired power plants—will be needed between 2007 and 2030” to meet the needs of the growing population.[188]

At the same time, United States trends show unparalleled per capita use of water.[189] Compared to the global average water footprint of 1,243 cubic meters per year, the average United States citizen uses 2,483 cubic meters, the largest per capita water footprint of any country in the world.[190] Simultaneously, electricity use is increasing in connection with significant population shifts to the south, where air conditioning use is high,[191] and warming trends promise to make it higher.

Of equal concern is the projected population growth in areas of the United States that are already experiencing stressed water systems. Areas in the West, for example, have already been identified by the United States Bureau of Reclamation as “at risk for serious conflict over water, even in the absence of climate change.”[192] Nevertheless, between the years 2000 and 2030, population is projected to increase 114.3% and 108.8% in Nevada and Arizona, respectively.[193] Similarly, even while Georgia, Alabama, and Florida battle over water for drinking, recreation, farming, hydropower, and environmental purposes,[194] interim projections indicate a 79.5% increase in Florida’s population by 2030 and population growth for North Carolina and Georgia at 51.9% and 46.8%, respectively.[195]

The projected increase in population, coupled with a projected population shift to areas of the country where air conditioning use is high, is expected to increase energy demands for cooling requirements, a problem that is likely to be exacerbated by predicted climate change-related warming across the nation.[196] Corroborating this trend are climate change models, which “project continued warming in all seasons across the Southeast and an increase in the rate of warming through the end of this century.”[197] Moreover, experts predict an increase in the number of “very hot days” in this region,[198] coupled with more dramatic temperature increases during those hot days.[199] Studies show that for every 1.8 degrees Farenheit increase in temperature, the demand for cooling increases 5% to 20%.[200] Because the majority of buildings are cooled using electricity, the energy industry should expect significant increases in electricity use and higher peak demands in this region.[201] For purposes of impacts to water resources, these increased demands for electricity generation translate into increased demands on water resources servicing energy-generation power plants.

B. Predicted Impacts from Climate Change-Related Conditions

In addition to burgeoning population growth, climate change poses another threat to the sustainability of our nation’s water resources. The existence of climate change is “unequivocal.”[202] The global average temperature has risen 1.5 degrees Fahrenheit since 1900 and it is projected to rise another two degrees Fahrenheit to 11.5 degrees Fahrenheit by 2100.[203] The average temperature across the United States has risen approximately 2 degrees Fahrenheit over the last fifty years and it, too, is expected to increase.[204] Moreover, during the last thirty years, average winter temperatures in the Midwest and northern Great Plains have increased more than seven degrees Fahrenheit.[205] Giving consideration to climate change-related impacts in the context of the energy–water nexus is important for a number of reasons.

First, experts predict that climate change will significantly and directly impact the nation’s water resources.[206] Because the production of energy from fossil fuels is inextricably linked to the availability of adequate water supplies, there is a high likelihood that these direct impacts to water resources will, in turn, directly impact power plant production in many regions of the United States.[207] In fact, constraints on electricity production in thermal power plants because of water shortages are already predicted for Arizona, Utah, Texas, Louisiana, Georgia, Alabama, Florida, California, Oregon, and Washington state by 2025.[208]

Second, experts link climate change primarily to “human-induced emission of heat-trapping gases” emitted from the burning of fossil fuels, including coal, oil, and gas.[209] In other words, climate change itself is intimately linked to energy production. In fact, 87% of greenhouse gas emissions come from energy production and use.[210] Because of the direct link between energy generation and the increase in temperature, policymakers are targeting the reduction of carbon dioxide emissions from the energy sector as a “primary focus” of climate change mitigation strategies.[211] Because of the energy–water nexus, however, these strategies, which include carbon sequestration and the shift to renewable forms of domestic energy, could pose additional threats to the sustainability of our nation’s water resources.

1. Predicted Source Impacts

Scientists predict that climate change will have significant direct impacts on water resources in the United States.[212] Changes in the water cycle and overall patterns of precipitation,[213] along with increases in water temperatures and water vapor in the atmosphere, are expected to impact various regions of the United States differently.[214] Experts predict that certain regions of the United States, including much of the Midwest and Northeast, will experience an increase in frequency and intensity of heavy downpours, [215] while others, including much of the West, Southwest, and Southeast, will experience increased drought,[216] and still others will experience both.[217]

Experts also predict reduced frost days, reduced snow cover, and longer “ice-free periods” on lakes and rivers.[218] More precipitation is expected to fall as rain rather than snow, thereby decreasing mountain snowpack and related late summer stream flow from snowmelt.[219] This change in precipitation is expected to result in higher water temperatures, reduced water availability, and resultant competition among various water users, including the energy sector.[220] Higher water temperatures caused by increased air temperatures and reduced water flow also lead to increased evaporation and resultant changes in pollution levels and aquatic ecosystems.[221]

Coastal areas should expect more intense hurricanes and related wind, rain, and storm surges,[222] along with rising sea levels associated with expanding ocean water and melting glaciers, ice caps, and ice sheets.[223] Among other impacts, rising sea levels are expected to diminish the supply of fresh water resources, including shallow aquifers,[224] by “increas[ing] the salinity of both surface water and ground water through salt water intrusion.”[225]

These climate change-related source impacts are already being felt by the energy sector. Experts expect these impacts to continue for some period of time despite society’s attempts at mitigation.[226] For example, reduced snowpack and earlier peak runoff are changing the timing and amount of stream flows impacting hydropower production.[227] In the context of thermoelectric power generation, problems arising from climate change-related impacts include: scarcity of water resources resulting in increased competition among users;[228] increased energy demand associated with cooling requirements in southern regions;[229] and warmer temperatures that impact the availability and quality of power plant cooling water.[230]

These operational impacts were recently observed throughout much of the southeast region during its recent drought—one of the worst in recorded history[231]—which lasted approximately two years and drained municipal reservoirs, cost billions of dollars in destroyed crops, and set off water wars throughout the region.[232] Twenty-two of the twenty-four nuclear reactors located in regions suffering from the most severe levels of drought rely on submerged intake pipes to withdraw cooling water from the lakes and rivers that were suffering impacts from drought conditions.[233] Reduced water levels in lakes and rivers in the southeast came exceedingly close to dropping below minimum water levels set by the NRC, which would have led to the mandatory shutdown of the nuclear plant.[234] For example, in January 2008, Progress Energy’s Harris nuclear plant, which generates electricity for some 550,000 homes,[235] was 3.5 feet away from a mandatory shutdown because of reduced water levels in Harris Lake.[236] Similarly, Duke Energy’s McGuire Nuclear Station, which provides electricity to half of its customer base in the Carolinas,[237] was less than one foot away from a mandatory shutdown.[238] Moreover, water shortages in the Catawba River Basin in 2002 required Duke Energy’s hydroelectric plants to run at 40% of capacity.[239]

Drought-reduced water levels can also cause water temperatures to increase to levels that are too hot for power plants to use as a coolant or too warm to act as receiving waters for the discharge of heated process waters from power plants.[240] This increase in temperature may lead to increases in cooling water withdrawals because of an overall decrease in cooling capacity,[241] or, as in the case of the Browns Ferry Nuclear Reactor, it may result in a shutdown, as occurred in August 2007 when the water temperature in the Tennessee River exceeded ninety degrees Fahrenheit.[242]

Decreasing the capacity of cooling water efficiency can also reduce a power plant’s power outputs,[243] thereby requiring increased power generation to meet power production demands. These impacts could have significant implications for national electric power supply, because even a reduction of 1% in electricity generated by power plants could result in a loss of 25 billion kWh per year—the amount consumed by two million Americans.[244]

Source impacts—i.e., predicted changes in the water cycle and patterns of precipitation, increased evaporation, drought conditions, the reduction in surface and groundwater levels, the salination of freshwater resources, and increased water temperatures and consequent changes in pollutant concentrations—are but one category of climate change-related impacts that threaten the sustainability of the nation’s freshwater resources and, in turn, our attempts to achieve a more sustainable energy economy. Increased demand on these resources brought about by climate change-related conditions is another. For example, the energy sector itself is likely to increase its water use in response to increased cooling demands brought on by higher temperatures in the south.[245] The increased demand for water by the agricultural sector resulting from warmer temperatures and longer growing seasons is also expected.[246]

Increased demand on water resources by other users impacts the energy sector in two ways. First, it increases the likelihood that energy production will be constrained by limited water supplies. Second, it has the potential to increase energy demands associated with pumping water from greater depths and moving water greater distances. Moreover, it may increase energy demand associated with the production of alternative sources of water supply.[247] As discussed in Part I, these alternative sources of water supply, like desalination, can be more energy-intensive than any other existing source of supply.[248]

2. Impacts from Mitigation Measures

The role that the energy–water nexus should play in climate change policymaking decisions that target the energy sector is clearly illustrated in the potential impact that climate change-related mitigation measures could have on water resources. Because energy is at the heart of climate change,[249] and because of the significant climate change-related impacts that experts predict for our water resources,[250] it may now be more accurately described as the “climate change–energy–water nexus.” “Climate affects water, water affects energy. The way we use energy affects climate . . . ,”[251] and the way we address climate change affects both.

Responses to climate change generally fall into two categories: mitigation and adaptation.[252] Mitigation focuses on prevention strategies. It is an attempt to limit climate change by addressing its underlying cause—for example, by reducing emissions of greenhouse gases. Adaptation, on the other hand, involves strategies designed to reduce the adverse effects of climate change. Because experts link climate change primarily to greenhouse gas emissions, the large percentage of which come from energy production and use,[253] mitigation strategies in the context of energy generation tend to focus on the reduction of greenhouse gas emissions from the energy production process.[254] Two mitigation strategies that could exacerbate existing water resource concerns include reducing the use of fossil fuels in the energy generation process and replacing them with fuels that emit lower levels of CO2, including nuclear power and biofuels, and the deployment of carbon sequestration technologies.

At present, renewable resources other than hydropower account for less than 4% of the nation’s electricity production.[255] Under the current Administration, this number is slated to increase significantly. The increase in domestic renewable energy sources appears to serve two distinct purposes: (1) to reduce greenhouse gas emissions as a mitigation strategy for climate change; and (2) to increase energy security by decreasing the nation’s reliance on foreign oil.[256]

Because of the Administration’s policies concerning energy independence, this shift to “renewable” forms of energy has gained momentum. The focus in the short term appears to be on increased use of nuclear power and biofuels. President Obama recently committed to expanding the nation’s use of nuclear energy “[t]o meet our growing energy needs and prevent the worst consequences of climate change.”[257] On February 16, 2010, President Obama announced $8.3 billion in federal loan guarantees to finance nuclear power plant construction, a move he declared “is only the beginning.”[258]

Moreover, the American Recovery and Reinvestment Act of 2009 (ARRA)[259] provides a number of incentives for renewable energy development and deployment, and President Obama’s 2010 budget called for doubling the country’s renewable energy capacity in three years.[260] Furthermore, under the Energy Independence and Security Act of 2007 (EISA),[261] Congress mandated a renewable fuels standard that requires “36 billion gallons of renewable fuel to be blended into the nation’s fuel supply by 2022, with an allowance for fifteen billion gallons of corn-based ethanol by 2015.”[262] Recent statistics by the Renewable Fuels Association revealed a 130% increase in ethanol production from January 2005 to January 2008,[263] indicating that this shift to renewable energy fuels is already underway.

Policymakers must be aware that choices about emission reductions not only will have consequences for climate change-related impacts, but also may have far-reaching effects on the sustainability of our nation’s water resources. As in the case of nuclear power, for example, these more “carbon-friendly” forms of energy production pose significant trade-offs for water resources.[264] As previously discussed, nuclear power plants require an average of forty-three gallons of water for every kWh generated,[265] can withdraw more than 2 billion gallons of water a day from water sources, and some are responsible for consuming approximately 33 million gallons a day.[266] Even when not producing electricity, nuclear power plants can require up to 52,000 gallons of water per minute in cooling water.[267]

Similarly, studies paint biomass life-cycle production as a highly water-intensive activity that could seriously exacerbate water supply problems in regions of the United States where water is already scarce. Although water demands in biomass production vary greatly based on agricultural production systems and climate conditions,[268] recent studies by Argonne National Laboratory indicate that the water demand in ethanol production is “substantially in excess” of the water required in gasoline production.[269] One 2008 study concluded that the life-cycle water footprint for biofuel[270] ranges from 1,388 to 19,924 liters of water per liter of biofuel.[271] Another study found that ethanol production requires 1,700 gallons of water per gallon of ethanol produced.[272] Still another analysis concluded that biofuels “can consume 20 or more times as much water for every mile traveled than the production of gasoline.”[273] These numbers clearly illustrate how energy policy must account for life-cycle water costs.[274]

Other attempts to reduce greenhouse gas emissions as mitigation for climate change may also have significant impacts on the nation’s water resources. Carbon capture and storage (CCS), for example, could increase water demand at traditional power plants by between 20% and 33%.[275] In the CCS process, carbon dioxide is captured from flue gas, compressed to convert it from a gaseous state to a “supercritical fluid,” and transported to a sequestration site, usually by pipeline, where it is injected into deep subsurface rock formations through one or more wells to a depth where the pressure and temperature are sufficient to keep the CO2 in a “supercritical state.”[276] Additional water is required in the process because of the additional energy required in CO2 capture, transportation, and injection.[277] Moreover, the large majority of commercial approaches to CO2 capture currently result in a significant energy penalty which, at a coal-fired power plant, can approach 30% because of parasitic steam loads.[278] Finally, tougher air pollution laws have led to the installation of scrubbers at many coal-generated power plants. Using scrubbers to reduce air emissions has created “vast new sources” of wastewater that contain chemicals from the scrubbing process.[279]

Our nation’s water resources are already exhibiting strain from a wide range of factors, including historic drought levels and unfettered use and consumption. Experts predict anticipated climate change-related impacts to compound these challenges which will only be further exacerbated by increased demand associated with significant population growth. This is the “water resource framework” under which policymakers currently operate. Despite the already strained state of much of the nation’s water resources, however, and despite the absence of comprehensive energy and climate change legislation,[280] aggressive policy initiatives that promote renewable energy production and deployment and establish renewable fuel standards[281] are causing a shift in the nation’s energy portfolio towards increased use of water-intensive renewable energy resources. This apparent disconnect may be due in large part to the highly compartmentalized handling of energy- and water-related issues. Historically, decisions concerning energy production have been made without consideration of water resource maintenance.[282] A cursory review of our current regulatory regimes indicates that with the limited exception of power generating facilities that fall under the jurisdiction of FERC or the NRC—and even within those regulatory regimes—compartmentalization of energy- and water-related issues remains the general rule.

IV. Compartmentalization of Energy Policy and Water Policy Under Current Regulatory Regimes

A. Energy-Based Regulation that Integrates Water-Related Issues

United States’ energy regulation consists of a “patchwork quilt of federal, state, and local agencies, many of which have jurisdiction over a discrete segment of the energy industry and none of which regulates an entire industry.”[283] On the federal level, the FERC and the NRC regulate the siting and operation of distinct modes of electric power generation—hydropower and nuclear power—which together, in 2009, produced only 27% of the nation’s electricity (6.8% and 20.2%, respectively).[284]

In each instance, to varying degrees, consideration is given to water resource utilization. Aside from this limited federal regulatory coverage, however, regulations governing the remaining 73% of power generation plant siting and operation, and the manner in which these power plants utilize and impact water resources, are often left entirely to state and local regulatory authorities.[285] These regulatory gaps, while consistent with the federal government’s historic deference to state regulation of water resources, may require reconsideration in light of the heightened concerns surrounding water resource scarcity, concerns which are only magnified by expert predictions concerning climate change-related impacts.

1. FERC Hydropower Licensing

The hydropower licensing process represents one of the few instances in which a federal regulating authority is called on to specifically consider the impact that demands generated by electrical power generation will have on water resources and to incorporate those impacts into its decision-making process.[286] FERC, originally known as the Federal Power Commission, was created under the Federal Water Power Act of 1920, which was later incorporated into the Federal Power Act (FPA),[287] to oversee the construction of hydroelectric dams on interstate rivers.[288] Under the FPA, FERC is charged with licensing and regulating non-federal (i.e., private, municipal, and state) hydroelectric projects that affect navigable waters, occupy United States public lands, use water or water power at a government dam, or affect the interests of interstate commerce.[289]

In its capacity as a licensing authority, FERC has developed three distinct licensing processes referred to as the “integrated,” “traditional,” and “alternative” licensing processes, all of which have varying degrees of FERC staff involvement at different stages of the licensing process.[290] Today, pursuant to a rule issued in July 2003, the integrated licensing process is the default process for both the licensing and relicensing of hydroelectric projects.[291] FERC incorporates water-related concerns and impacts into its decision-making throughout the licensing process. This integration of energy and water-related issues can first be seen in the “pre-application process,” which lays the groundwork for environmental studies through data gathering and interagency consultation. The integration of energy- and water-related issues can also be seen in FERC’s licensing decision-making process, as discussed below.

a. The Pre-Application Process

The FERC pre-application process requires applicants to consider, in some depth, environmental issues associated with a project, prior to filing license applications.[292] Because hydroelectric generation uses water flow through hydroelectric turbines to generate electricity, such environmental review would certainly implicate water resources. As part of the “pre-application process,” a potential applicant is required to file a notice of intent to file a license application and a pre-application document (PAD).[293] As a practical matter, “[t]he PAD serves as the foundation for issue identification, study plan development, and [FERC’s] environmental analysis” under NEPA,[294] all of which take water resource conditions into consideration.

Among other things, the PAD must include a description of the project location, facilities, and operations, including detailed maps showing lands and waters located within the project boundary. It must also include a description of existing environment and resource impacts on the following resources: geology and soils; fish and aquatic resources; wildlife and botanical resources; wetlands, riparian, and littoral habitat; rare, threatened, and endangered species; recreation and land use; aesthetic resources; and the river basin, among others.[295] Specifically, with respect to water resources, the PAD must describe the proposed project’s water resources and water resources in the surrounding area, and must address the quantity and quality of those water resources affected by the project through the discussion of several items, including:

1. Drainage area;

2. The monthly minimum, mean, and maximum recorded flows in cubic feet per second of the stream or other body of water at the power plant intake or point of diversion . . . ;

3. A monthly flow duration curve . . . ;

4. Existing and proposed uses of project waters for irrigation, domestic water supply, industrial and other purposes, including any upstream or downstream requirements or constraints to accommodate those purposes;

5. Existing instream flow uses of streams in the project area that would be affected by project construction and operation . . . ;

6. Any federally-approved water quality standards applicable to project waters;

7. Seasonal variation of existing water quality data for any stream, lake, or reservoir that would be affected by the proposed project . . . ;

8. The following data with respect to any existing or proposed lake or reservoir associated with the proposed project; surface area, volume, maximum depth, mean depth, flushing rate, shoreline length, substrate composition; and

9. Gradient for downstream reaches directly affected by the proposed project.[296]

Notice and circulation of the PAD starts “a process of give and take between the applicant, the FERC staff, and the commenting agencies.”[297] As part of the pre-application process, the applicant is required to consult with “relevant Federal, state, and interstate resource agencies, including as appropriate the National Marine Fisheries Service, the United States Fish and Wildlife Service, . . . the United States Environmental Protection Agency, the Federal agency administering any United States lands utilized or occupied by the project, the appropriate state fish and wildlife agencies, the appropriate state water resource management agencies, [and] the certifying agency or Indian tribe under Section 401(a)(1) of the [CWA].”[298] The applicant must integrate the responses of agencies expressing concerns into project proposals.[299] Agency comments are used by FERC to initiate the review process under NEPA and by the applicant to construct a “study plan” by which it will provide more detailed environmental impact information, all of which will ultimately result in a “preliminary licensing proposal” that, if satisfactory, will conclude in the submission of the license application. [300]

b. Factors Considered by FERC in Its Licensing Decisions

Once FERC receives the application for a license or relicense, it evaluates the project within the NEPA framework and according to a set of nine factors to determine whether the license is “best adapted to serve the public interest.”[301] This “public interest” analysis is another example of the way in which FERC considers water resources in its hydropower licensing process. In addition to nine public interest factors, FERC must determine the terms of the license with consideration given to the extent to which the proposed project is consistent with federal or state comprehensive plans for improving, developing or conserving waterways impacted by the project.[302] Specifically, under FPA Section 10(a):

[T]he project adopted . . . shall be . . . [the] best adapted to a comprehensive plan for improving or developing a waterway or waterways for the use or benefit of interstate or foreign commerce, for the improvement and utilization of water-power development, for the adequate protection, mitigation, and enhancement of fish and wildlife . . . and for other beneficial public uses, including irrigation, flood control, water supply, and recreation[] . . . .[303]

In order to ensure that the project “will be best adapted to the comprehensive plan”[304] FERC is required to consider, among other things, the extent to which the project is consistent with a filed comprehensive plan as well as any recommendations by agencies exercising authority over fish and wildlife, flood control, navigation, irrigation, recreation, cultural, and other relevant resources of the State in which the project is located.[305]

At a minimum, the FPA Section 10(a) review appears to integrate energy- and water-related issues in each of FERC’s licensing decisions. One of the most obvious limitations associated with FERC’s hydropower licensing process, however, is the limited scope of its jurisdiction. As previously mentioned, FERC’s licensing process only applies to a small percentage of electricity generating power plants. Moreover, there are no doubt challenges associated with reaching a consensus of many agencies with divergent interests concerning the parameters of a specific project. To further underscore the shortcomings that may be associated with FERC’s regulations, this last challenge is overcome in FERC’s licensing scheme, perhaps by necessity, by leaving the “best interest”[306] determination solely in the hands of FERC,[307] a party whose mission it is to “assist customers in obtaining reliable, efficient and sustainable energy services.”[308]

Nevertheless, FPA Section 10(a) could serve as a framework for the analysis to further integrate energy and water-related concerns and to advance the goal of achieving sustainability of our water resources. Contemplating, at the outset of the licensing or relicensing of an energy project, a plan to adapt an energy project to an overall comprehensive plan for water resources would certainly advance national efforts to achieve sustainability of our water resources. Among other things, contemplating such a plan benefits commerce, utilizes energy production, protects, mitigates, and enhances ecosystems, and provides for other beneficial public uses like irrigation, flood control, water supply, and recreation and would further promote efforts to create a more sustainable energy economy in support of our nation’s current energy and national security goals.

2. NRC Nuclear Power Plant Licensing

Licensing of nuclear power plants under the Atomic Energy Act of 1954 (AEA)[309] represents the second instance in which a federal energy-based regulatory regime contemplates the integration of energy and water-related issues. Similar to the limitations seen under the FERC licensing regime, licensing by the NRC is limited to nuclear power plants, only one segment—albeit a growing segment—of power generating facilities. Although the NRC review process appears, on its face, to be comprehensive in its integration of energy- and water-related issues, a significant limitation exists in that, with the exception of a NEPA review, the integration of energy- and water-related issues occurs only in connection with safety-related issues. Although, in the case of a nuclear reactor, safety is of vital importance, it far from covers the scope of water- and energy-related issues that require integration in the pursuit of sustainability of the nation’s water resources.

As a general overview, constructing a nuclear facility requires compliance with NEPA and the AEA’s licensing provisions.[310] Most, if not all, presently operating nuclear power plants are licensed under Part 50 of the Code of Federal Regulations,[311] a licensing process that involves two distinct chronological steps: 1) obtaining a construction permit; and 2) obtaining a license to operate.[312] In 1989, in an attempt to standardize the licensing process and avoid the duplicative efforts that plagued the Part 50 process, the NRC[313] adopted a new reactor licensing process—the Part 52 process.[314]

Part 52 divides the licensing process into three separate standardized licenses: the Early Site Permit (ESP); the Design Certification (DC); and the Combined Operating License (COL).[315] The ESP process is a site permitting process that allows a permit applicant to resolve issues relating to a chosen site—in particular, issues relating to site safety, environmental concerns, and emergency preparedness—before having to commit to a particular nuclear reactor design.[316] Once issued, the siting permit allows the permit holder to “bank” the approved site for a period of up to forty years before commencing construction of the proposed nuclear facility.[317]

The DC process was designed “to streamline new reactor licensing without sacrificing security and safety.”[318] Under Part 52, applicants may seek “certification” of a standard nuclear reactor design, which may, in turn, be purchased by a company for construction on an approved nuclear reactor site—for example, a site with an ESP.[319] Because the facility design would have already undergone the design scrutiny associated with the DC process, the applicant seeking to construct the nuclear facility would not be required to undergo facility design review again.[320]

Finally, the COL process combines construction and operating licensing into a one-step process. The procedures for obtaining approvals are similar to the processes involved in Part 50, the primary difference being that an applicant who previously availed himself of the ESP and DC processes would only need refer to them in the COL application, and as such, would not be made to revisit issues (such as environmental issues related to site approval) already “addressed” in the previous processes.[321]

The NRC permitting process integrates energy and water-related issues through several different mechanisms. In the case of an ESP application, for example, the NRC staff evaluates issues related to site safety, emergency planning, and environmental protection. The NRC documents findings related to site safety and emergency planning in a safety evaluation report and documents findings relating to environmental protection issues in an environmental impact statement (EIS).[322] Issues existing at the energy–water interface are addressed in both the environmental report and safety report, as discussed below.

a. The Environmental Report

The environmental report section of the ESP application serves as the starting point for the NRC’s EIS.[323] Among other things, the applicant’s environmental report is required to contain:

a description of the proposed action, a statement of its purposes, a description of the environment affected, . . . [a discussion of t]he impact of the proposed action on the environment[,] . . . [a]ny adverse environmental effects which cannot be avoided should the proposal be implemented[,] [a]lternatives to the proposed action[,] . . . [t]he relationship between local short-term uses of man’s environment and the maintenance and enhancement of long-term productivity[,] and [a]ny irreversible and irretrievable commitments of resources which would be involved.”[324]

The report also requires an analysis that “considers and balances the environmental effects of the proposed action, the environmental impacts of alternatives to the proposed action, and alternatives available for reducing or avoiding adverse environmental effects.”[325]

A guidance document intended to assist NRC staffers responsible for nuclear power plant environmental reviews provides guidance to applicants concerning the degree to which the applicant’s environmental review and the NRC’s EIS should examine water-related issues.[326] Environmental Review Plan (ERP) Section 2.3, for example, is devoted entirely to hydrological and water quality issues. Among the many subsections of ERP Section 2.3, is the Environmental Standard Review Plan (ESRP) 2.3.1, titled “Hydrology,” which “directs the staff’s description of the surface-water bodies and groundwater aquifers that could affect the plant-water supply and effluent disposal or that could be affected by plant construction or operation of the proposed project.”[327] ESRP 2.3.1 further provides that:

The scope of review directed by this plan includes consideration of site-specific and regional data on the physical and hydrological characteristics of ground and surface water in sufficient detail to provide the basic data for other reviews addressing the evaluation impacts on water bodies, aquifers, aquatic ecosystems, and social and economic structures of the area.[328]

Related surface and groundwater “data and information needs” identified in this section include:

  • Regarding freshwater streams within the watershed:
    • A list of major streams, including the size of the drainage area and gradient;
    • Maximum, average maximum, average minimum, and minimum monthly flow;
    • Flood frequency distribution; and
    • Historical drought stages and discharges by month, and the seven-day once-in-ten years low flow.
  • Regarding lakes and impoundments:
    • A general description;
    • Influential intake or discharge structures, as well as the size, location, and elevation of outlets;
    • Variations in inflows, outflows, and water surface elevations; and
    • Storage volumes and retention times.
  • Regarding groundwater:
    • Areal extent of aquifers, recharge, and discharge areas, elevation and depth, and geologic formations;
    • Interactions between site surface and groundwaters;
    • Recharge rates; and
    • Designations or proposals for designation of “sole source aquifers.”[329]

Similarly, the scope of review under ESRP 2.3.2, titled “Water Use,” includes: “(1) consideration of such water uses as domestic, municipal, agricultural, industrial, mining, recreation, navigation, and hydroelectric power, (2) identification of their locations, and (3) quantification of water diversions, consumption, and returns.”[330]

Similar ESRPs exist for water quality[331] and water treatment,[332] among others. The scope of review under ESRP 3.3.1, entitled “Water Consumption,” calls for consideration of the “quantity of water required for plant operation, the amount of water consumed by the plant water systems, and the amount of water discharged to a water body.” The analysis is based on the rationale that “[a] detailed and thorough description of the plant water consumption is essential for the evaluation of potential impacts to the environment that may result from plant, construction, or operation.”[333]

This last statement raises an important limitation to the integration of energy- and water-related issues in the context of the environmental report. That is, the analysis, although an apparently thorough one, is only performed with an eye toward “environmental impacts.” Considerations supporting the integration of energy and water-related issues in the context of power plant siting extend far beyond environmental impacts to include water scarcity, potential competition among various uses, and national security concerns. Moreover, issues identified in the NEPA analysis are identified in order to ensure that the NRC’s decision to grant a permit is an informed one.[334] NEPA does not require the NRC to choose an alternative that is the “right alternative.”[335] It merely requires the agency to comply with a decision-making process that forces them to consider environmental impacts of the proposed action (in this case granting a permit) along with comparative impacts associated with reasonable alternative actions.[336]

b. The Site Safety Analysis Report

In addition to submitting an environmental report as part of its application, the applicant is required to submit a site safety analysis report, which contains detailed information concerning the design of structures, systems, and components at a proposed nuclear facility.[337] The NRC reviews the applicant’s report and summarizes its findings in a safety evaluation report. Like the environmental report, the applicant must integrate energy- and water-related issues, only in this context, the integration is limited in scope to operational safety issues. The site safety analysis report is required to include:

  • The specific power level of the facilities and anticipated maximum levels of radiological and thermal effluents each facility will produce;
  • The type of cooling systems, intakes, and outflows that may be associated with each facility;
  • The boundaries of the site and general location of each facility on the site;
  • The seismic, meteorological, hydrologic, and geologic characteristics of the proposed site with appropriate consideration of the most severe of the natural phenomena that have been historically reported for the site and surrounding area and with sufficient margin for the limited accuracy, quantity, and period of time in which the historical data have been accumulated;
  • The existing and projected future population profile of the site’s surroundings;
  • A description and safety assessment of the facility’s proposed site;
  • Information demonstrating that site characteristics allow for development of adequate security plans; and
  • An evaluation of the site against applicable sections of the Standard Review Plan (SRP).[338]

The Standard Review Plan for the Review of Safety Analysis Reports for Nuclear Power Plants[339] is considered “the most definitive basis available for specifying the NRC’s interpretation of an acceptable level of safety for light-water reactor facilities.”[340] Because cooling water availability is a key factor in nuclear reactor safety, the integration of energy- and water-related issues occurs in connection with the applicant’s safety evaluation report. In that regard, the above-referenced Standard Review Plan contains a number of comprehensive SRPs that deal specifically with issues identified at the energy–water interface. These include, among others, SRP 2.4.1 titled Hydrologic Description, SRP 2.4.2 titled Floods, SRP 2.4.11 titled Low Water Considerations, and SRP 2.4.12 titled Groundwater. [341]

In each of the report’s “areas of review,” the applicant is required to gather historical data relating to the proposed site to determine whether the design, structures, systems, and components of the proposed facility meet the NRC’s regulatory requirements. For example, SRP 2.4.11 is included in the site safety analysis because “[l]ow water conditions could adversely affect sources of water required for cooling the proposed plant. Accordingly . . . [regulatory] requirements are imposed to ensure that components and structures associated with the ultimate heat sink will continue to function, thereby keeping the plant in safe condition.”[342] Under SRP 2.4.11, when assessing whether the proposed nuclear plant can safely operate under the “low water conditions” unique to the proposed site, the NRC considers, among other things:

  • Historical data concerning drought-related low water conditions at and in the vicinity of the site, including initiating phenomena, locations, and durations, and data related to the “worst drought considered reasonably possible in the region;”
  • Data concerning non-drought related low-water levels caused by other phenomena, including other hydrometeorological events and the blockage of intakes by sediment, debris, littoral drift, and ice, including locations and durations of the events;
  • The potential for “other anthropogenic water uses [that] could exacerbate the natural causes of low water” including “use limitations imposed or under discussion by Federal, State, or local agencies authorizing the use of water,” or institutional restraints on water use such as limitations on use and discharge permits;
  • A description of all safety-related water supply requirements at or in the vicinity of the site, including the design basis of the plant’s intake system; and
  • Applicant’s “assessment of the potential effects of site-related proximity, seismic, and non-seismic information on the postulated worst-case low-flow scenario for the proposed plant site.”[343]

If the assessment reveals safety concerns, modifications to the proposed facility plan or site selection may be required.[344]

As of January 2010, twenty-six applications for newly-built reactors had been filed with the NRC.[345] While there is some comfort in knowing that issues relating to the energy–water nexus are being considered in connection with the upsurge of licensing applications for this extremely water-intensive form of power generation, it is important to keep in mind the limitations of the analyses being performed. As previously discussed, integration of energy and water-related issues performed in the context of the environmental review are limited in scope to environmental impacts.[346]

Similarly, in the context of conducting a safety evaluation, integration of energy- and water-related issues takes place for the limited purpose of safety review, which although important in the context of nuclear power, fails to consider the many dimensions of energy- and water-related issues that require integration in order to achieve sustainability of our water resources. Moreover, included among these additional considerations, are potential climate change-related impacts which may require adaptation strategies. Such consideration appears to be missing from the NRC’s current licensing regime.

For example, when assessing whether a proposed plant can operate safely under low water conditions, NRC guidance calls for an examination of water use limitations “imposed or under discussion by Federal, State, or local agencies authorizing the use of water.”[347] This may be an accurate depiction of water resource availability and the capacity of the plant’s safety features to respond to today’s low water conditions, but whether this is an accurate depiction of water resource availability and the capacity of the plant’s safety features to respond to conditions forty years from now, when the license term expires,[348] is questionable, particularly with the dawn of climate change-related impacts.

An even more fundamental question arises in connection with the NRC’s reliance on historical data, like drought conditions and flood events, in determining whether the safety-related plant features can effectively withstand like conditions. As in the case of flooding, for purposes of an ESP, an applicant considers:

[T]he most severe natural phenomena that have been historically reported for the site and surrounding area and reasonable combination of these phenomena in establishing design-basis information pertaining to the local intense precipitation, flooding causal mechanisms, and the controlling flooding mechanism, with sufficient margin for the limited accuracy, quantity, and period of time in which the historical data have been accumulated.[349]

Will the built in “margin” be significant enough to accommodate climate change-related precipitation events, the severity of which is still unknown? Increasingly, scholars are concluding that historical data cannot be relied on to predict conditions impacted by climate change: “Accurate prediction of climate change effects on local ecological conditions is, for now (and perhaps always will be), beyond the capacity of ecological models.”[350] Further, “the effects of climate change will themselves be complex—ever-changing, often unpredictable, and subject to feedback mechanisms that may not be completely understood and that may change over time.”[351]

This further begs the question of whether, in the era of climate change, public health and safety concerns are adequately addressed by a licensing process that relies on historical data to grant site approvals that may be “banked” for up to forty years. The NRC’s new permitting regime is meant to provide “predictability” in the licensing process by offering finality on issues assessed during the ESP phase of permitting, before an applicant commits resources to construction. In that regard, with limited exception, the NRC staff is precluded from imposing new site characteristics, design parameters or terms and conditions on an ESP at the COL permitting stage.[352] We may find that, for public health and safety reasons, in this climate change-created “world of triage, best guesses, and shifting sands,”[353] a COL application that relies on an ESP granted decades earlier, the terms of which are based on historic data from that time may, by definition, call for the reassessment of the environmental and technical assumptions upon which the ESP was based.

Outside of the limited analyses performed by the FERC and the NRC, on the limited segment of energy production generation facilities that fall within their discrete jurisdictions, there is no federal mandate arising from energy-based regulation that requires decision-making authorities at the federal or state level to consider water resource management in connection with decisions concerning siting and operation of the remaining 77% of energy production power plants facilities. Although the analysis performed in connection with FERC and NRC licensing exhibit some degree of energy and water policy integration, each instance is limited in scope and, for the reasons outlined above, fails to address vital issues relating to the sustainability of our nation’s water resources. As will be discussed in the next section, dialogue among policymakers concerning the interdependency between water and energy is beginning. Based on the roles that the federal and state governments have historically played in the areas of water policy and energy policy, however, the likelihood of such a federal mandate in the near future appears slim.

B. Water-Based Regulation that Integrates Energy-Related Issues

A cursory examination of the degree to which water-based regulatory regimes integrate energy-related issues reveals two CWA provisions that deserve note. These include CWA Section 316(b), which is designed to prevent entrainment of aquatic life at cooling water intake structures;[354] and CWA Section 303(d), which requires states to identify impaired waters and Total Maximum Daily Loads (TMDLs) for those waters,[355] which are, in turn, incorporated into National Pollution Discharge Elimination System, or NPDES, permits.[356] In that these two provisions, for different reasons, promote closed-loop cooling systems, a more water consumptive cooling process, they symbolize the complexity associated with issues that exist at the energy–water nexus.

As previously discussed, CWA Section 316(b) targets cooling water intake structures. Compliance with this provision requires U.S. Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) to ensure that the “location, design, construction, and capacity of cooling water intake structures reflect the best technology available for minimizing adverse environmental impact.”[357] Because entrainment is associated more often with the open-loop cooling process that withdraws greater quantities of water from the water resource, the best technology available for minimizing entrainment is likely to involve the closed-loop or air-cooling process.[358]

CWA Section 303(d) may promote increased use of closed-loop cooling systems for a different reason. CWA Section 303(d) requires states to identify a list of impaired waters that are not meeting established state water quality standards and establish TMDLs for those water bodies.[359] A TMDL establishes the maximum amount of a pollutant that can be discharged to a water body in order for it to meet established water quality standards.[360] The TMDL allocates pollutant loads among pollutant sources and provides a basis for states to establish water quality-based controls that provide the pollution reduction necessary for a water body to meet established water quality standards.[361] TMDL requirements could constrain a power plant’s discharge of cooling water if it contained certain levels of pollutants and if the receiving waters were impaired.[362] A closed-loop cooling system avoids problems associated with discharging water containing pollutants into an impaired water body.

Because closed-loop cooling systems consume more water in the cooling process than open-loop cooling systems, water consumption levels by the energy sector in response to these CWA provisions are expected to increase.[363] While addressing issues relating to entrainment and pollution is clearly in support of achieving sustainability of our nation’s water resources, promoting the use of a more consumptive form of the cooling process seems contrary to these goals.

V. Energy and Water Policy: Does It Help or Hinder?

With the exception of facilities governed under the limited jurisdiction of the FERC and the NRC, state public utility commissions are traditionally responsible for regulating energy-generating facilities located in their state.[364] As noted, historically, decisions concerning energy production have been made without consideration paid to water resource maintenance and vice versa.[365] The increasing occurrences of water shortages in various regions coupled with the promise of increased demand and climate change-related impacts lead policymakers to rethink these historical assumptions. The prospect of energy disruption, the realization that our current path leads to increased competition and prioritization among various water users, and the concomitant threat to energy independence, renewable resource development, and national security that accompanies conditions of water scarcity and energy interruption all point to the need to create a “more sustainable energy economy.”

A. Energy Policy

A review of the current Administration’s agenda items, recent energy-related legislative activity, and activities by various federal agencies that play an important role in the energy sector reveals a national “energy policy” that focuses on three primary issues: climate change,[366] energy independence and security, and renewable resources. Although these issues are central to the problems arising at the energy–water nexus, recent legislation and activities by the various agencies are still failing to consider the impact that these policy-driven activities will have on the already stressed state of our nation’s water supply as recently seen in the policy initiatives calling for an increased production and use of water-intensive renewable resources.

Some of the more significant energy-related legislation includes the 2005 Energy Policy Act (EPAct),[367] EISA, and ARRA, each of which calls for an increase in water-intensive domestic renewable fuels production. EPAct, for example, established a DOE loan guarantee program to support development of renewable energy and other clean energy technologies,[368] as well as authorized $800 million of new clean renewable energy bonds to finance facilities generating electricity from renewable sources.[369] EPAct also created a Renewable Fuel Standard program, whereby Congress required an increasing volume of renewable fuel, including ethanol, biodiesel, and all motor vehicle fuels derived from biomass, be used in gasoline in the United States starting in 2006 and increasing annually through 2012.[370]

EISA continued the effort to increase production of renewable energy by increasing the annual statutory renewable fuel volumes established in EPAct, extending the Renewable Fuel Standards Program through 2022[371] and mandating the production of renewable fuels from “renewable biomass.”[372] Finally, ARRA allocated some $6 billion in new funds to support the DOE loan guarantee program originally established under EPAct,[373] extended and modified the tax incentives made available to businesses and individuals involved in development and production of renewable energy sources under EISA,[374] and authorized an additional $1.6 billion in clean renewable energy bonds.[375]

Although certainly in advance of the current Administration’s energy agenda, these recent energy-based policy initiatives fail to integrate water-related issues into policies that clearly promote more water-intensive forms of energy production. Instead, these policies signal the ongoing lack of integration, by policymakers, of energy- and water-related issues in the context of national energy policy.

B. Water Policy

In contrast to the failure by policymakers to integrate water resource considerations into energy-based legislation, policymakers recently experienced a measurable degree of success in integrating energy-related activities into a water-based national assessment program. In what has been touted as a move toward national water planning,[376] in March 2009, Congress enacted the OPLMA, in which it created a National Water Availability and Use Assessment Program (NWAUAP) in the Department of the Interior.[377] Using energy production as a prominent justification,[378] this program directs the Secretary of the Interior to create and maintain “a comprehensive national water use inventory” and “conduct an ongoing assessment of water availability.”[379] The goals of this program are:

(1)    [T]o provide a more accurate assessment of the status of the water resources of the United States;

(2)    [T]o assist in the determination of the quantity of water that is available for beneficial uses;

(3)    [T]o assist in the determination of the quality of the water resources of the United States;

(4)    [T]o identify long-term trends in water availability;

(5)    [T]o use each long-term trend described in paragraph (4) to provide a more accurate assessment of the change in the availability of water in the United States; and

(6)    [T]o develop the basis for an improved ability to forecast the availability of water for future economic, energy production, and environmental uses.[380]

The Secretary is required to incorporate its findings in a report to Congress by December 31, 2012, and every five years thereafter.[381] The required data will help to shed light on a number of key issues that exist at the intersection of energy and water. Specifically, OPLMA Section 9508(d) requires the Secretary to provide a detailed assessment of:

(1)    the current availability of water resources in the United States, including—

(A)   historic trends and annual updates of river basin inflows and outflows;

(B)   surface water storage;

(C)    groundwater reserves; and

(D)   estimates of undeveloped potential resources (including saline and brackish water and wastewater);

(2)    significant trends affecting water availability, including each documented or projected impact to the availability of water as a result of global climate change;

(3)    the withdrawal and use of surface water and groundwater by various sectors, including—

(A)   the agricultural sector;

(B)   municipalities;

(C)    the industrial sector;

(D)   thermoelectric power generators; and

(E)    hydroelectric power generators;

(4)    significant trends relating to each water use sector, including significant changes in water use due to the development of new energy supplies;

(5)    significant water use conflicts or shortages that have occurred or are occurring; and

(6)    each factor that has caused, or is causing, a conflict or shortage described in paragraph (5).[382]

Although limited in scope to federal water projects, OPLMA integrates energy and water-based issues, as well as climate change-related impacts by requiring the Secretary to “assess each effect of, and risk resulting from, global climate change with respect to water supplies that are required for the generation of hydroelectric power at each Federal water project that is applicable to a Federal Power Marketing Administration.”[383] Moreover, OPLMA Section 9503 goes so far as to “establish a climate change adaptation program,”[384] although the scope of the program is specifically limited to “area[s] that encompass[] a watershed that contains a federally authorized reclamation project.”[385] Provisions of this program require the Secretary:

(1)    to coordinate with . . . other appropriate agencies to assess each effect of, and risk resulting from, global climate change with respect to the quantity of water resources located in a [reclamation project] service area; and

(2)    to ensure, to the maximum extent possible, that strategies are developed at watershed and aquifer system scales to address potential water shortages, conflicts, and other impacts to water users located at, and the environment of, each service area.[386]

With respect to each major reclamation river basin, the Secretary is also required to analyze, among other things, “the extent to which changes in the water supply of the United States will impact . . . hydroelectric power generation facilities.”[387] Additionally, “[i]n consultation with appropriate non-Federal participants,” the Secretary must “consider and develop appropriate strategies to mitigate” any such impact to hydroelectric generation facilities including strategies relating to “the modification of any reservoir storage or operating guideline in existence as of [the date of OPLMA’s enactment]; the development of new water management, operating, or habitat restoration plans; water conservation; improved hydrologic models and other decision support systems; and groundwater and surface water storage needs.”[388]

Also falling under the heading of water policy, the EPA Administrator “has identified ‘clean energy and climate change’ as a top Agency priority, and EPA national and Regional offices are working to define strategies and actions in th[e] area.”[389] In an effort to “describe climate change impacts on water programs, define goals and objectives for responding to climate change, and to identify a comprehensive package of specific response actions,” EPA released its National Water Program Strategy: Response to Climate Change in 2008, in which EPA outlines its plans to work cooperatively with national, state, and local governments and public and private stakeholders to “understand the science, develop tools, and implement actions to address the impacts of climate change on water resources.”[390]

On a positive note, dialogue concerning the interdependency between water and energy is starting to take place as policymakers begin to recognize that this nexus holds an important key to developing a more sustainable energy economy. For example, in response to a December 2004 letter[391] to the Secretary of Energy from the chairman and ranking members of the House and Senate Subcommittees on Energy and Water Development Appropriations, the DOE issued a December 2006 report entitled Energy Demands on Water Resources: Report to Congress on the Interdependency of Energy and Water,[392] cited throughout this Article, which focuses on the “interdependency of energy and water” and the “threats to national energy production resulting from limited water supplies.”[393]

More recently, the DOE, in conjunction with the National Energy Technology Laboratory, issued a report entitled Estimating Freshwater Needs to Meet Future Thermoelectric Generation Requirements,[394] also cited throughout this Article. In this report, the DOE recognized the need to reconcile “[g]rowing concerns about freshwater availability . . . with growing demand for power if the United States is to maintain economic growth and current standards of living.”[395]

A selection of bills introduced in the House and Senate offers further evidence that the message is being heard. For example, HR 3598, entitled the Energy and Water Research Integration Act,[396] recently passed by the House, is designed “to ensure consideration of water intensity in the DOE’s energy research, development, and demonstration programs to help guarantee efficient, reliable, and sustainable delivery of energy and water resources.”[397] Similarly, a bipartisan bill recently introduced to the Senate, the Energy and Water Integration Act of 2009,[398] calls for three major new studies detailing different dimensions of the energy–water interface.[399] The first study targets the impact of energy development and production on United States’ water resources, broken down by three distinct sectors, one of which is the electricity sector.[400] This study would also analyze water impact associated with specific fuel sources, including any impacts resulting from extraction or mining practices.[401] The second study targets electrical power plant water and energy efficiency.[402] And the third study targets energy use by the Bureau of Reclamation’s water storage and delivery operations.[403] The future of this bill and others like it remains unknown, particularly in light of the recent turnover of the House of Representatives, where “many . . . dismiss strong scientific evidence of human-caused warming.”[404]

Despite the growing dialogue, ongoing assessments, and legislative initiatives, for the most part, energy and water policy still operate in separate spheres and lack the integration required to trigger the coordinated effort necessary to make any meaningful and timely impact on the crisis developing in our energy and water sectors.

VI. Challenges and Solutions: Steps Toward Achieving a “More Sustainable Energy” Economy

Creating a more sustainable energy economy is a complex undertaking which necessitates a bilateral approach to managing the issues identified in this Article. First, in order to avoid compounding problems that already exist at the energy–water interface, and to further the goals associated with creating and maintaining a sustainable energy economy, all future energy-based policy initiatives must be examined through the lens of, and influenced by, the dynamics of the energy–water nexus. In today’s world, this analysis should certainly be influenced by current and anticipated climate change-related impacts.

Second, laying the groundwork necessary to create and maintain the sustainable energy economy vital to the success of our nation’s energy policies requires us to undertake a massive national planning effort. Developing the policy framework by which to manage this large-scale planning effort is a formidable task. Policymakers who are versed in the interdependency between water and energy would no doubt agree that our nation’s waters lie at the center of this planning effort. This Article goes a step further to suggest that the path to achieving a sustainable energy economy starts with achieving sustainability of our nation’s water resources. In that regard, this Article suggests that the policy framework by which to achieve sustainability of our nation’s water resources which, in turn, will support national efforts to create a more sustainable energy economy, requires participation by federal and state stakeholders and integration of federal and state planning efforts in a large-scale watershed planning and management program that incorporates the dynamics of the energy–water nexus.

The idea of watershed planning is not a new one.[405] The watershed planning process, as described by EPA, is a process which identifies a series of “cooperative, iterative steps to characterize existing conditions, identify and prioritize problems, define management objectives, develop protection or remediation strategies, and implement and adapt selected actions as necessary.”[406] Although watershed management and planning is often discussed in the context of restoring impaired water bodies,[407] a large-scale national planning effort could lay the groundwork necessary to achieve sustainability of the nation’s water resources. Even states like Florida, which are at the forefront of watershed planning,[408] could benefit from this larger national effort.[409] Before turning to the task of detailing the framework for this large-scale planning effort, however, several significant challenges that are implicated in any discussion concerning the federal government’s role in water planning deserve consideration—these involve the concept of “federalism” and identifying the appropriate governance structure by which to achieve these lofty goals.

A. Challenges Associated with Pursuing National Watershed Planning: The Concept of Federalism

“Federalism” has been described as the interaction between the two layers of government in the United States—the federal government and the state government.[410] The passing of the OPLMA supports the proposition that federal policymakers are making progress in acknowledging the impacts that climate change generally, and energy production specifically, are having and will continue to have on the nation’s water resources for years to come. Despite this progress, however, political and legal mechanisms that are currently in place concerning the states’ authoritative role in managing water resources within state boundaries will pose significant barriers to any policymaker using federal water-based regulation and policymaking as the sole means by which to create and maintain a sustainable energy economy.[411]

Throughout federal water-related legislation, Congress has made it clear that the state reigns supreme in the allocation and administration of water within its boundaries.[412] An example of Congress’s deference to the authority of the states in this regard is clearly articulated in the Clean Water Act, which provides:

It is the policy of Congress that the authority of each State to allocate quantities of water within its jurisdiction shall not be superseded, abrogated or otherwise impaired by this chapter. It is the further policy of Congress that nothing in this chapter shall be construed to supersede or abrogate rights to quantities of water which have been established by any State.[413]

Even the seemingly groundbreaking OPLMA, which toys with the notion of national water planning, ardently reiterates that the “States bear the primary responsibility and authority for managing the water resources of the United States, [and] the Federal Government should support the States, as well as regional, local, and tribal governments,” in their efforts.[414]

“Past federal deference to state water law and policy has been based largely on the notion that states and localities are better qualified to make decisions that are influenced by variable local physical and economic conditions.”[415] Although the federal government has “influenced state water law and policy through financial investments in infrastructure and technology,” through regulations designed to address issues like environmental protection, and through the resolution of interstate disputes, “only rarely [has the federal government] disturbed the core authority of the states to allocate water resources among competing users—what might be viewed as the heart of water law and policy.”[416]

As illustrated by recent energy-based policy initiatives, an attempt by policymakers to avoid triggering the federalism-related challenges often associated with water-based initiatives by using energy-based regulatory schemes to create a sustainable energy economy is likely to prove ineffective for several reasons. First, because of the energy–water nexus, policy initiatives that fail to take water resources into consideration only exacerbate existing problems which, in turn, only undermines the very energy-based policies being pursued. Second, federalism-related challenges are not altogether avoided by legislating in the energy policy arena. Similar to the degree of federal deference afforded states in their role as water resource managers, the federal government has often deferred to the states in energy facility siting decisions and in regulating the operation of energy production facilities.[417]

Even in the context of regulating nuclear power, Congress has made it clear that excepting issues relating to nuclear power plant safety, state regulatory schemes govern. As articulated in Section 274(k) of the AEA, “[n]othing in this section shall be construed to affect the authority of any State or local agency to regulate activities for purposes other than protection against radiation hazards.”[418] Moreover, the Supreme Court has identified the AEA as an example of Congress legislating “in a field which the States have traditionally occupied.”[419] Specifically,

Congress, in passing the 1954 Act and in subsequently amending it, intended that the Federal Government should regulate the radiological safety aspects involved in the construction and operation of a nuclear plant, but that the States retain their traditional responsibility in the field of regulating electrical utilities for determining questions of need, reliability, cost, and other related state concerns.[420]

As further articulated by the NRC Atomic Safety and Licensing Appeal Board, “[s]tates . . . retain the right, even in the face of the issuance of an NRC construction permit, to preclude construction on such bases as a lack of need for additional generating capacity or the environmental unacceptability of the proposed facility or site.”[421]

Because of the historic roles that states have played in decisions relating to water resource management and energy production, under the political and legal mechanisms currently in place, any legislative initiative targeted at creating and maintaining a sustainable energy economy by way of water resource management will implicate federalism concerns. As such, in any responsive legislation, policymakers will be called upon to strike the “proper” balance between federal and state governmental authority.

B. Challenges Associated with Pursuing National Watershed Planning: Identifying the Appropriate Governance Structure

In addition to federalism-related concerns, policymakers striving to lay the groundwork for creating a more sustainable energy economy will also be required to contend with the related and equally challenging issue of determining the most effective governance structure. On the issue of governance, the national, international, and global nature of climate change-related issues have prompted many policy analysts to call for a “fundamental reassessment” of existing governance structures—one that shifts the balance of federalism and incorporates considerations relating to the “character of different environmental problems and the appropriate contributions that different levels of government can make in solving them.”[422] Similar governance issues arise in the context of achieving sustainability of our water resources.

Because states have historically played a primary decision-making role in the areas of water law and policy, current regulatory regimes arguably place the burden of developing a “more sustainable energy economy” squarely on the shoulders of the states. Given the national, international, and global scale of the issues policymakers are looking to address, however, placing this obligation or this power in the hands of states operating in furtherance of state interests results in a mismatch of both “natural and political scales.”[423] This mismatch of scales arguably imposes significant constraints on any attempt to develop effective regional, national, international, and global solutions to the problems policymakers are hoping to address.

Proffered approaches to address governance-related challenges have ranged from encouraging an “enhanced federal role in water resource law and policy”[424] to implementing a “national water policy”[425] to the suggestion that Congress must “undertake wholesale change in the statutes.”[426] Another theory views the issue as one involving a “trade-off: deference to states in water matters comes at a cost of protecting national interests.”[427] In the end, how, and whether, federalism will be rebalanced and the governance structure that will be identified by policymakers as most effective in addressing challenges relating to sustainability of water resources and responding to dilemmas that exist at the energy–water nexus remain to be seen. The final framework will surely remain a subject of political and scholarly debate for years to come.

That notwithstanding, in the context of today’s regulatory regime, one thing remains clear—because of the historical role that states have played in water management and energy production, and because of the national, international, and global interests at stake, the policy framework designed to address issues arising at the intersection of energy and water will require the active participation of, and commitment by, both federal and state governments. The challenge lies in designing a framework that capitalizes on the “comparative advantage[s] in dealing with various environmental issues,”[428] while remaining true to historic state and federal roles in water resource management and energy-based decisions.

C. Taking Steps Toward Achieving a More Sustainable Energy Economy: Cooperative National Watershed Planning and Management

A cooperative large-scale watershed planning and management effort requires integrated planning on a number of levels. First, because of the dynamics of the energy–water nexus, this planning effort requires the integration of two historically highly compartmentalized policy areas—energy policy and water policy. The integration of these policy arenas must take place on both federal and state governance levels, throughout decision-making concerning energy siting and water resource management and allocation.

Additionally, a successful watershed planning effort will require participation by both federal and state stakeholders. Existing and future federal hydroelectric projects as well as the national, international, and global-level implications associated with decisions made in this arena, particularly in the context of national security and climate change, calls for federal involvement in the watershed planning efforts. By the same token, for federalism-related concerns, and because states have played a primary role in water management and allocation, and in energy production and siting, states are well positioned from a governance perspective to play a primary role in achieving sustainability of our water resources. Provisions of the recently enacted OPLMA represent the beginning of the integration of energy and water policy on a federal level. With some limitation, OPLMA may also provide the means by which to achieve the integration of federal and state efforts in cooperative watershed planning.

1. OPLMA: The Integration of Energy and Water Policy on the Federal Level

As detailed in Part IV of this Article, OPLMA integrates water planning and energy production in the context of its NWAUAP and in the context of federal hydroelectric power generating facilities, the segment of energy production over which the federal government exercises primary jurisdiction.[429] In connection with maintaining its national water use inventory and conducting the ongoing assessment of water availability under the NWAUAP, OPLMA charges the Department of Interior (DOI) with improving the ability to forecast water availability for energy production.[430] Moreover, DOI must identify water use trends associated with the energy sector generally,[431] and specifically, with development of new energy supplies.[432]

Further integration of energy and water policy on the federal level can be seen in OPLMA’s “climate change adaptation program” designed to identify the risks and effects of climate change-related impacts to watersheds that support federally authorized reclamation projects.[433] Under this program, DOI is charged with developing strategies, “at watershed and aquifer system scales,” to address potential water shortages, conflicts, and other potential impacts to water users.[434] To the extent that changes in water supplies are expected to impact hydroelectric power generation facilities, DOI is further called on to develop strategies, in consultation with non-Federal participants, that will mitigate any impact to these facilities.[435]

Inasmuch as the integration of energy and water policy is beginning on the federal level, two “integration components” that make up the recommended policy framework by which to create a more sustainable energy economy remain largely unaddressed—these include the integration of energy and water policy on the state level and the vertical integration of federal and state watershed planning efforts. With some limitation, Title VI of OPLMA provides a starting point by which to address both of these remaining components.

2. OPLMA Title VI: The Integration of Federal and State Watershed Planning Efforts

OPLMA Title VI Subtitle A entitled “Cooperative Watershed Management Program”[436] (the “Watershed Program”) appears to provide a preliminary policy framework by which to structure the large-scale watershed planning initiative contemplated by this Article with one major exception—it fails to ensure the participation of state stakeholders in the watershed management and planning process. For those stakeholders choosing to participate in OPLMA’s Watershed Program, however, Title VI provides the means by which to expand and integrate the watershed planning efforts already underway on every level of governance.

The Watershed Program authorizes DOI to establish a grant program by which DOI shall provide grants to form or enlarge a watershed group and to conduct one or more projects “in accordance with the goals of a watershed group.”[437] Title VI defines “watershed group” as a “self-sustaining, cooperative watershed-wide group” that is comprised of and incorporates the perspectives of a wide array of affected stakeholders including, among others, hydroelectric production, irrigated agricultural production, the environment, potable water purveyors and industrial water users, private property owners within a watershed, and federal, state, and local agencies that have authority with respect to the watershed.[438] The watershed group addresses water availability and quality issues, makes decisions on a consensus basis, and is “capable of promoting the sustainable use of the water resources of the relevant watershed and improving the functioning condition of rivers and streams through—water conservation; improved water quality; ecological resiliency; and the reduction of water conflicts.”[439]

Under the grant program, the DOI may award a grant recipient three “phases” of grants. First phase grants of up to $100,000 per year for up to a three-year period[440] are awarded to eligible recipients “to establish or enlarge a watershed group; to develop a mission statement for the watershed group; to develop project concepts; and to develop a restoration plan.”[441] The second phase grants of up to $1 million per year for up to a four-year period[442] are awarded to “plan and carry out watershed management projects.”[443] And third phase grants of up to $5 million per year for up to a five-year period[444] are awarded to “plan and carry out at least 1 watershed management project.”[445]

Insofar as OPLMA’s Watershed Program specifically incorporates issues relating to hydroelectric production, it promotes the integration of energy and water policy on the federal level. However, promoting the sustainable use of water resources, by definition, also requires consideration of impacts on the watershed caused by other forms of energy production, most of which are managed on the state-level, including nuclear power generation and renewable energy production. Because a watershed group is meant to be comprised of all affected stakeholders, consideration of energy–water issues relating to thermoelectric and renewable energy production would presumably be incorporated into any cooperative watershed planning and management effort. To ensure consideration of these issues, however, and to promote the integration of energy and water policy on a state-level, it is necessary to consider all forms of energy production in the context of watershed planning and management.

Insofar as the Watershed Program calls for participation by all affected stakeholders, including federal and state agencies with authority over the watershed, it appears to promote the integration of federal and state-based planning efforts. While participation in this large-scale planning effort is likely to undermine the historic control that states have exercised over water policy decisions, it remains unclear whether OPLMA’s Watershed Program provides the incentive necessary to ensure participation by all “affected stakeholders.” With crises looming in many areas of our water sector and in the shadow of additional climate change-related impacts, achieving sustainability of our nation’s water resources may be impossible without state buy-in to the planning effort. Consequently, this Article suggests that the proposed national watershed planning initiative be structured to increase the likelihood of state participation either through cooperative federalism or by creating meaningful incentives.

3. Cooperative Watershed Planning: Ensuring Participation by the States

Federally structured cooperative federalism has already been effectively used to achieve national goals relating to the quality of the nation’s waters. Under the framework of cooperative federalism, “federal and state governments work together in structured, overlapping, and synergistic ways to achieve mutual goals,”[446] as exemplified by the CWA, which involved improved water quality.[447] In that instance, the cooperative federalism approach came only after Congress determined that national interests were at stake and the states’ efforts were inadequately advancing these national interests.[448]

Achieving energy independence, developing effective climate change-related mitigation and adaptation strategies, and becoming a global leader in renewable energy production are currently a few of the more significant national policy interests. Whether policymakers perceive these interests as being threatened by state action (or inaction) may determine whether Congress makes a “conscious and deliberate federal intervention”[449] into an area of law historically belonging to the states.

A second, less federally invasive approach, and one that is recommended here, takes the form of an “Economic Incentive Program”—a program designed to “tap into basic economic interests, using constructed market frameworks or direct incentives, to induce desired behavior or otherwise make it more likely to occur.”[450] In other words, “[t]ying meaningful strings to federal aid.”[451] Conditioning federal aid on state water law or policy reform is an approach that has been utilized in the past and could be an effective means by which to obtain state buy-in to national watershed planning under an overarching federal framework.

The CWA presents an example of an incentive-based regulatory program.[452] In an effort to control the amount of sewage being discharged into navigable waters, Congress provided infrastructure grants that greatly increased the amount and effectiveness of sewage treatment in the United States.[453] Ironically enough, this infrastructure, which is now breaking down, may provide the very avenue by which incentive legislation could be designed.

States are facing significant costs associated with addressing the growing problem of inadequate and aging water infrastructure.[454] These escalating costs could provide the incentive necessary to induce states to take part in this national watershed planning effort. In return for participation in watershed planning, the federal government could offer grants to assist states in tackling this growing problem—and it is a problem. The nation’s 1 million miles of water mains are aging.[455] The age of some system components surpasses the 100-year mark[456] raising serious public health concerns and causing an estimated loss of approximately 1.7 trillion gallons of water per year at an annual national cost of $2.6 billion.[457] And “[some] experts fear that the problem is getting worse.”[458]

Evidence of failing water systems exists nationwide:[459] “Each day, one can find news reports that a half-dozen or more communities are affected by ‘boil water’ alerts due to water main breaks or other failures within their water-delivery system.”[460] In one Colorado community, water storage tanks with leaking rivets were the suspected cause of drinking water contamination leading to 389 cases of illness and resulting in a boil order for approximately 8,500 residents.[461] Washington D.C. averages a pipe break every day and intense rains have reportedly overwhelmed the city’s systems causing untreated sewage to flow into the Potomac and Anacostia Rivers.[462] According to an EPA report some 240,000 water mains break per year.[463] Moreover, USGS estimates indicate a resulting loss of up to 6 billion gallons of drinking water each day.[464]

Although an economic incentive program will certainly raise budgetary concerns given the state of the current federal budgetary crisis, policymakers can rest assured in knowing that, as is also the case in the context of issues existing at the energy–water interface, the costs associated with dealing with infrastructure problems later will certainly exceed the costs associated with dealing with them today particularly as portions of infrastructure approach the end of operational life spans. Deferred maintenance or a “run to failure” will inevitably increase long-term costs and damage the environment, will result in a loss of scarce natural resources, and will lead to service disruptions that harm customers.[465] Unfortunately, deferred maintenance has been the approach taken by many municipalities and states for decades[466] and operation, maintenance, and capital investment in these failing systems have been seriously underfunded.[467] According to EPA’s Aging Infrastructure Research program, “if operation, maintenance, and capital investment remain at [2007] levels, the potential funding shortage for drinking water and wastewater infrastructure could exceed $500 billion by 2020.”[468]

Incentives for infrastructure improvements on the energy front are also available. The electric grid, for one thing, is in serious need of upgrade with the expansion and improvement of the electric grid already having been the focus of legislative initiatives.[469] Moreover, in order to meet our renewable energy goals, thousands of miles of transmission lines are needed to bring power from renewable resources, which are often located far from load centers, to customers.[470] Additional power lines are also needed to connect renewable resources to the grid.[471]

Building the infrastructure necessary to access power generated by renewable resources is fundamental to achieving a “more sustainable energy economy.” ARRA, for example, appropriated $4.5 billion to DOE to be used for “electricity delivery and energy reliability activities to modernize the electric grid,” which includes “implementation of [the] Smart Grid programs created in [EISA].”[472] ARRA further provides ratemaking incentives for investor-owned utilities that propose to build transmission facilities that will improve reliability or reduce congestion.[473] Under an economic incentive program, funding by the federal government to assist the states in paying for the necessary development, repair, and replacement of energy and water-based infrastructure, like the appropriations or incentives seen in ARRA, could be used as a “carrot” to secure commitment by receiving states to participate in the national water planning and management effort outlined above.

VII. Conclusion

Perhaps without realizing, recent energy-based policy decisions have charted a course for the energy sector that threatens the viability of one of our most vital natural resources—water. To avoid the potential catastrophe that awaits us if we stay true to this course, policymakers must become well versed in the energy–water nexus, and this knowledge must provide the framework by which future energy-based policy decisions are made. In addition to the survival of our economy and our way of life, achieving sustainability of our nation’s water resources is vital to creating the more sustainable energy economy necessary to support energy-independence, renewable energy, and climate change-related goals.

Creating a sustainable energy economy calls for achieving sustainability of our nation’s water resources—a task that requires a large-scale national watershed planning effort. The enormity of the task before us is enough to give pause to even the most ardent protectors of water resources. Recent legislation, however, may provide the starting point by which to address many of these vital issues. Success lies in ensuring the necessary participation by all affected stakeholders and in incorporating the dynamics of the energy–water nexus. In short, “[w]hether proponents realize it or not, any plan to switch from gasoline to electricity or biofuels is a strategic decision to switch our dependence from foreign oil to domestic water.”[474] A policy framework must be put in place to ensure that our nation’s water resources can withstand the growing demands that are sure to arise from the transformation of the United States energy economy to a “sustainable energy economy.”

 



* Ann Drobot received her LL.M. cum laude in Environmental Law and Policy from Florida State University College of Law in December 2010. She is also a graduate of Boston University School of Law and Cornell University. She wishes to thank Professors J.B. Ruhl of Vanderbilt University Law School and Robin Kundis Craig of Florida State University College of Law for their guidance and insightful reviews of draft versions of this Article. She would also like to thank Joan Drobot and Gabriel Drobot for their tireless support throughout her LL.M. program studies with special thanks to her father John Drobot.

[1] J.B. Ruhl et al., The Practice and Policy of Environmental Law 1322 (2008).

[2] See infra note 209 and accompanying text. According to U.S. Energy Information Administration (EIA) estimates, in 2008, United States’ energy-related carbon dioxide emissions totaled 5,802 million metric tons. U.S. Energy Info. Admin., U.S. Dep’t of Energy, United States Carbon Dioxide Emissions from Energy Sources, 2008 Flash Estimate 14 (2009), available at http://www.eia.doe.gov/oiaf/1605/flash/pdf/flash.pdf. When considered by itself, the electric power sector is the largest sector in terms of energy-related carbon dioxide emissions, making up 41% of total emissions. Id. at 6.

[3] U.S. Energy Info. Admin., Independent Statistics and Analysis, Frequently Asked Questions: How Dependent is the United States on Foreign Oil?, http://tonto.eia.doe.gov/tools/faqs/faq.cfm?id=32&t=6 (last visited July 17, 2011); U.S. Energy Info. Admin., Independent Statistics and Analysis, Frequently Asked Questions: How Many Barrels of Oil Does the United States Consume Per Year?, http://tonto.eia.doe.gov/
tools/faqs/faq.cfm?id=33&t=6 (last visited July 17, 2011).

[4] For example, according to EIA estimates, the United States industrial sector’s natural gas demand is forecasted to increase at a rate of 1% per year from 2009 to 2035. See U.S. Energy Info. Admin, U.S. Dep’t of Energy, Annual Energy Outlook 2011: Reference Case 26 (2010), available at http://www.eia.gov/neic/speeches/newell_12162010.pdf.

[5] See The White House, National Security Strategy 30 (May 2010), available at http://www.whitehouse.gov/sites/default/files/rss_viewer/national_security_strategy.pdf.

[6] Id. at 47.

[7] Id. at 30.

[8] Id.

[9] Id.

[10] See Trends and Policy Issues for the Nexus of Energy and Water: Hearing Before the S. Comm. on Energy and Natural Res., 112th Cong. 2–3, 7 (2011) (statement of Michael E. Webber, University of Texas at Austin), available at http://energy.senate.gov/public/_files/
WebberTestimony2033111.pdf.

[11] See United Nations Conference on Environment and Development, Rio de Janeiro, Braz., June 3–14, 1992, Agenda 21, ¶¶ 18.1–18.3, U.N. Doc. A/CONF.151/26/Rev.1 (Vol. I), Annex II (Aug. 12, 1992).

[12] For example, in 2006, an Idaho House committee approved a two-year moratorium on the construction of new coal-fired power plants on the basis of concerns regarding the environment and water supply. Nat’l Energy Tech. Lab., U.S. Dep’t of Energy, Estimating Freshwater Needs to Meet Future Thermoelectric Generation Requirements app. A-4 to A-5 (2010), available at http://www.netl.doe.gov/energy-analyses/pubs/2010_Water_Needs_Analysis.pdf. Similarly, concerns over the amount of water a proposed power plant would withdraw from a local aquifer caused Arizona to recently reject a permit request. Id. app. at A-5. Moreover, in February 2006, the Diné Power Authority agreed to pay the Navajo Nation $1,000 per acre-foot with a guaranteed minimum of $3 million for water to service a proposed energy project. Id.

[13] An ethanol plant’s petition to withdraw two million gallons per day from the local aquifer in the annual production of 100 million gallons of ethanol raised opposition from the citizens of Champaign and Urbana Illinois over concerns about water supply. Michael E. Webber, Catch 22: Water vs. Energy, Sci. Am. Earth 3.0, Oct. 2008, at 34, 38.

[14] For example, the annual rate of recharge for the more arid sections of the Ogallala aquifer (located in the Great Plains) is estimated at only 10% of its annual withdrawals. David A. Gabel, Groundwater Vulnerability, Envtl. News Network, Mar. 25, 2010, http://www.enn.com/
top_stories/article/41145 (last visited July 17, 2011).

[15] U.S. Dep’t of Energy, Energy Demands on Water Resources: Report to Congress on the Interdependency of Energy and Water 10 (2006), available at http://www.
sandia.gov/energy-water/docs/121-RptToCongress-EWwEIAcomments-FINAL.pdf#63. Approximately 17,000 square miles in forty-five states have been impacted by subsidence, “by far the single largest cause of which is” the compaction of aquifer systems accompanied by excessive groundwater pumping. U.S. Geological Survey, Land Subsidence in the United States 1 (2000), available at http://water.usgs.gov/ogw/pubs/fs00165/SubsidenceFS.v7.PDF.

[16] U.S. Dep’t of Energy, supra note 15, at 10.

[17] See Robert W. Adler, Freshwater: Sustaining Use by Protecting Ecosystems, in Agenda for a Sustainable America 205, 209 (John C. Dernbach ed., 2009); see also Heather Cooley, Floods and Droughts, in The World’s Water 2006–2007: The Biennial Report on Freshwater Resources 91, 92 (Peter H. Gleick ed., 2007).

[18] See Patrick O’Driscoll & Larry Copeland, Southeast Drought Hits Crisis Point, USA Today, Oct. 21, 2007, http://www.usatoday.com/weather/news/2007-10-19-drought_N.htm (last visited July 17, 2011).

[19] According to scientists at the Climate Prediction Center, almost 50% of the United States was involved in drought in 2007, and the southeast was experiencing the worst drought in more than a century. Doyle Rice, United States’ Drought Has ‘Extraordinary Reversal,’ USA Today, Feb. 17, 2010, http://www.usatoday.com/weather/drought/2010-02-16-drought-us-reversal_
N.htm?loc=interstitialskip (last visited July 17, 2011).

[20] See, e.g., Alabama v. U.S. Army Corps of Eng’rs, 441 F. Supp. 2d. 1123, 1124, 1128 (N.D. Ala. 2006) (involving the interstate battle between Georgia, Florida, and Alabama over waters of the Apalachicola-Chattahoochee-Flint (ACF) River Basin). Water from the ACF Basin serves as the primary source of drinking water for over 5 million residents of Atlanta and its suburbs, provides habitat for three federally-protected species, and supports Florida’s $130 million shrimp and oyster industry, and serves the hundreds of towns, factories, farms, power plants, and recreational facilities located along its borders in all three states. Alyssa Lathrop, Comment, A Tale of Three States: Equitable Apportionment of the Apalachicola-Chattahoochee-Flint River Basin, 36 Fla. St. U. L. Rev. 865, 868–69, 877 (2009); Regarding Drought Issues in the Southeast Before the Subcomm. on Water Res. and the Env’t of the H. Comm. on Transp. and Infrastructure, 110th Cong. 3–4 (2008) http://www.usgs.gov/congressional/hearings/docs/
hamilton_weaver_11march08.doc
(last visited July 17, 2011) (statement of Sam D. Hamilton, Regional Director, Southeast Region, U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, Department of the Interior) (stating the lower ACF Rivers are home to four endangered mussels, two threatened mussels, and one threatened fish); Jefferson G. Edgens, Thirst for Growth, 14 Forum for Applied Research and Public Policy, Spring 2001, at 14, 14, 16 available at http://forum.ra.utk.edu/Archives/PDF/16.1.pdf (stating that the ACF basin provides 70% of Atlanta’s drinking water); Fl. Dep’t of Envtl. Prot., Apalachicola-Chattahoochee-Flint River System, http://www.dep.state.fl.us/mainpage/acf/default.htm (last visited July 17, 2011) (stating oysters are the hallmark species of the Appalachia Bay and that the commercial fishing industry in the Apalachicola Bay is responsible for $134,000,000 in economic output). See also South Carolina v. North Carolina, 130 S.Ct. 854 (2010) (involving the interstate battle between North Carolina and South Carolina over the waters of the Catawba River). The future of the Catawba River, a river that supports a variety of uses with a diversity of interests, including public drinking water supply, hydroelectric and thermoelectric power generation, industrial uses, and irrigation, is currently in the hands of the United States. Supreme Court. South Carolina, 130 S. Ct. at 858–59 (describing the procedural posture of the case); Motion of the State of South Carolina for Leave to File Complaint, Complaint, and Brief in Support of its Motion for Leave to File Complaint at 4, South Carolina v. North Carolina, 130 S. Ct. 854 (2010) (No. 06-138), 2007 WL 2826231, at *4 (stating the uses of the Catawba River). Severe drought that existed between 1998 and 2002, and subsequent drought conditions led to the initiation of the lawsuit concerning North Carolina’s upstream transfers of water that allegedly exceeded North Carolina’s equitable share of the River. See id. at *1–2. The Supreme Court granted Duke Energy’s motion to intervene in the case finding that it showed “unique and compelling interests” to warrant intervention in the equitable apportionment case. South Carolina, 130 S. Ct. at 867. Moreover, recognizing the relationship between water supply and energy production, the Court found it “likely that any equitable apportionment of the river will need to take into account the amount of water that Duke Energy needs to sustain its operations and provide electricity to the region.” Id. at 866.

[21] Nat’l Energy Tech. Lab., supra note 12, app. at A-2.

[22] A “water footprint,” a “counterpart to the better known carbon footprint,” is defined as the “total volume of freshwater that is used to produce the goods and services consumed by the individual or community or produced by the business.” Jeff B. Kray, Climate Change and Water Resources, in Waters and Water Rights §4A.01(b) (Robert E. Beck & Amy K. Kelley eds., 3d ed. 2010); see also A.Y. Hoekstra, Human Appropriation of Natural Capital: A Comparison of Ecological Footprint and Water Footprint Analysis, 68 Ecological Econ. 1963, 1964 (2009).

[23] Omnibus Public Land Management Act of 2009, Pub. L. No. 111-11, 123 Stat. 997 (codified as amended in scattered sections); U.S. Gov’t Printing Office, Public Law 111-11 – Omnibus Public Land Management Act of 2009, http://www.gpo.gov/fdsys/pkg/PLAW-111publ11/content-detail.html (showing details of the location of its codification).

[24] See, e.g., sources cited infra notes 30, 160, 167.

[25] See U.S. Dep’t of Energy, supra note 15, at 9–11 (discussing the interdependence of energy production and water usage, and stating that decisions about energy production can affect water usage rates).

[26] Id. at 13.

[27] Technology Research and Development Efforts Related to the Energy and Water Linkage: Hearings Before the Subcomm. on Energy and Env’t of the H. Comm. on Science and Tech., 111th Cong. 3 (2009) [hereinafter Hearings].

[28] Id.

[29] Electric Output Down 3.7% in 2009; Economic Factors, Weather Cited, Energy News , Jan. 13, 2010, http://www.eei.org/newsroom/energynews/Pages/20100113.aspx (last visited Apr. 9, 2011). According to the Edison Electric Institute, this represents the lowest annual amount of GWhs produced since 2004 which the Institute associates with milder summer temperatures and the significant drop in Gross Domestic Product. Id.

[30] Benjamin K. Sovacool, Running on Empty: The Electricity–Water Nexus and the U.S. Electric Utility Sector, 30 Energy L. J. 11, 13 (2009).

[31] The exact calculation is 97,844,275,000,000 gallons of water.

[32] U.S. Dep’t of Energy, supra note 15, at 19.

[33] See U.S. Energy Info. Admin., Existing Net Summer Capacity by Energy Source and Producer Type, http://www.eia.doe.gov/cneaf/electricity/epa/epat1p1.html (last visited Apr. 9, 2011).

[34] U.S. Geological Survey, Estimated Use of Water in the United States in 1990: Hydroelectric Power Water Use, http://water.usgs.gov/watuse/wuhy.html (last visited July 17, 2011).

[35] U.S. Dep’t of Energy, supra note 15, at 20.

[36] Id. Although water supporting hydropower generation remains in stream, this form of power generation does impact the water resource and as such can affect water’s usefulness for other purposes. These impacts can include, among other things, disruption of migrating fish patterns and wetlands habitats and changes in water quality and flow brought on by the use of dams. Fred Bosselman et al., Energy, Economics and the Environment 137 (Robert C. Clark et al. eds., 3d ed. 2010).

[37] U.S. Dep’t of Energy, supra note 15, at 18.

[38] See id.

[39] Nancy L. Barber, U.S. Geological Survey, Summary of Estimated Water Use in the United States in 2005, at 2 (2009), available at http://pubs.usgs.gov/fs/2009/3098/pdf/2009-3098.pdf; Joan F. Kenny et al., U.S. Geological Survey, Estimated Use of Water in the United States in 2005, at 38 (2009), available at http://pubs.usgs.gov/circ/1344/pdf/c1344.pdf.

[40] At a withdrawal rate of 410,000 million gallons of water per day, of which 80% are surface water withdrawals (328,000 million gallons per day), and a thermoelectric power withdrawal rate of 201,000 million gallons per day, of which 99% are surface water withdrawals (198,990 million gallons per day), thermoelectric power utilizes 61% of all withdrawals (198,990 million gallons per day, divided by 328,000 million gallons per day, equals 0.606). Similarly, 18% of the total surface water withdrawal was saline (0.18 multiplied by 328,000 million gallons per day equals 59,040 million gallons per day) and 28% of thermoelectric power was saline (0.28 multiplied by 198,990 million gallons per day equals 55,717.2 million gallons per day). Dividing 55,717.2 million gallons per day by 59,040 million gallons per day, equals 94% of all saline withdrawals. To compute the percentage of freshwater withdrawals, multiply 410,000 million gallons per day by 20% and then by 96% to get the amount of freshwater groundwater withdrawals, which is 78,720 million gallons per day. Add this to the amount of freshwater surface withdrawals (328,000 million gallons per day minus amount of saline withdrawals, 59,040 million gallons per day, which equals 268,960 million gallons per day) to get total freshwater withdrawal of 347,680 million gallons per day. Subtracting 55,717.2 million gallons per day from 198,990 million gallons per day equals the total freshwater withdrawal by thermoelectric power, which is 41% of the total freshwater withdrawals. See Barber, supra note 39, at 2.

[41] Kenny et al., supra note 39, at 38.

[42] See id. at 38–39 (dividing total thermoelectric withdrawal of 201,000 million gallons per day by freshwater withdrawal of 143,000 million gallons per day, which equals 0.7114, or, approximately 71%).

[43] Nat’l Energy Tech. Lab, supra note 12, at 29.

[44] Kenny et al., supra note 39, at 38. According to the USGS, this pattern of withdrawals exists due to the long established power production infrastructure along major rivers, the Great Lakes, and the coast. Id.

[45] In calculating water use in the southeast, the following states were examined: West Virginia, Virginia, North Carolina, South Carolina, Kentucky, Tennessee, Mississippi, Alabama, Georgia, and Florida. Id. at 6, 39.

[46] Jess Chandler et al., Water and Watts, Southeast Energy Opportunities, Apr. 2009, at 1, available at http://pdf.wri.org/southeast_water_and_watts.pdf. Total freshwater withdrawals equaled 71,180 million gallons per day, 47,593 million gallons of which were used in thermoelectric power plants. See Kenny et al., supra note 39, at 6, 39.

[47] Chandler et al., supra note 46, at 2.

[48] Id.

[49] See U.S. Dep’t of Energy, supra note 15, at 17–18, 63. Water use at thermoelectric power plants is not limited to the cooling process. For example, at coal-fired energy production plants, water is used for flue gas scrubbing and ash handling. See World Nuclear Ass’n., Cooling Power Plants, http://www.world-nuclear.org/info/cooling_power_plants_inf121.html (last visited July 17, 2011).

[50] Robert H. Abrams & Noah D. Hall, Framing Water Policy in a Carbon Affected and Carbon Constrained Environment, 50 Nat. Resources J. 3, 40 (2010).

[51] U.S. Dep’t of Energy, supra note 15, app. B at 63.

[52] Nat’l Energy Tech. Lab., supra note 12, at 8. Passing large quantities of cooling water through the condenser to absorb heat is the preferred method from both a cost and efficiency standpoint. U.S. Dep’t of Energy, supra note 15, app. B at 63.

[53] Nat’l Energy Tech. Lab., supra note 12, at 8.

[54] U.S. Dep’t of Energy, supra note 15, app. B at 63.

[55] Id.

[56] Id. at 9.

[57] Chandler et al., supra note 46, at 2–3. Power plant cooling systems not only utilize large amounts of water, but also the cooling intake structures cause environmental damage to aquatic organisms from the water sources tapped to cool the plants by impingement and entrainment of the organisms. Entergy Corp. v. Riverkeeper, Inc., 129 S. Ct. 1498, 1502 (2009). A recent United States Supreme Court case found permissible EPA’s reliance on a cost-benefit analysis in setting the national performance standards that reduced impingement mortality and entrainment at existing power plants, as well as in providing for cost-benefit variances from those standards as part of the regulations. Id. at 1504, 1510.

[58] Hearings, supra note 27, at 15 (statement of Dr. Kristina M. Johnson, Under Secretary of Energy, U.S. Department of Energy).

[59] Kenny et al., supra note 39, at 38.

[60] Hearings, supra note 27, at 15 (statement of Dr. Kristina M. Johnson, Under Secretary of Energy, U.S. Department of Energy).

[61] Kenny et al., supra note 39, at 38.

[62] Chandler et al., supra note 46, at 3.

[63] Kenny et al., supra note 39, at 38.

[64] Id.

[65] Benjamin K. Sovacool & Kelly E. Sovacool, Preventing National Electricity–Water Crisis Areas in the United States, 34 Colum. J. Envtl. L. 333, 339 (2009).

[66] Hearings, supra note 27, at 15 (statement of Dr. Kristina M. Johnson, Under Secretary of Energy, U.S. Department of Energy).

[67] Sovacool, supra note 30, at 16–17.

[68] Id. at 17; U.S. Geological Survey, Estimated Use of Water in the United States in 2000: Thermoelectric Power, http://pubs.usgs.gov/circ/2004/circ1268/htdocs/text-pt.html (last visited Julu 17, 2011).

[69] Sovacool, supra note 30, at 17.

[70] Hearings, supra note 27, at 15 (statement of Dr. Kristina M. Johnson, Under Secretary of Energy, U.S. Department of Energy).

[71] Id.

[72] Chandler et al., supra note 46, at 3.

[73] Based on data collected by the U.S. Energy Information Administration at more than 150 open-loop units. Sovacool & Sovacool, supra note 65, at 352.

[74] Id. at 353.

[75] Sovacool, supra note 30, at 17.

[76] Hearings, supra note 27, at 15 (statement of Dr. Kristina M. Johnson, Under Secretary of Energy, U.S. Department of Energy); Sovacool & Sovacool, supra note 65, at 338.

[77] Sovacool, supra note 30, at 16–17; World Nuclear Ass’n., supra note 49.

[78] Sovacool, supra note 30, at 17.

[79] Hearings, supra note 27, at 15 (statement of Dr. Kristina M. Johnson, Under Secretary of Energy, U.S. Department of Energy).

[80] Federal Water Pollution Control Act, 33 U.S.C. §§ 1251–1387 (2006).

[81] Nat’l Energy Tech. Lab., supra note 12, app. at A-2.

[82] 33 U.S.C. § 1326(b) (2006). To comply with Section 316(b), EPA must ensure that the “location, design, construction, and capacity of cooling water intake structures reflect the best technology available for minimizing adverse environmental impact.” Id. Applicable regulations base cooling water intake structure performance standards on impingement mortality and entrainment (IM&E) impacts. Nat’l Energy Tech. Lab., supra note 12, app. at A-2. Open-loop cooling systems “are strongly discouraged unless the permit applicant can demonstrate that alternative IM&E measures can provide a reduction level comparable to that achieved through closed-loop cooling or that the compliance costs, air quality impacts, and/or energy generation impacts would outweigh the IM&E benefits and justify an open-loop system.” Id. app. at A-3.

[83] Nat’l Energy Tech. Lab., supra note 12, app at. A-2.

[84] Id. app. at A-3.

[85] See id.

[86] Id.

[87] Sovacool & Sovacool, supra note 65, at 340.

[88] Id. at 340. Note that twenty-five gallons of water per kWh generated is industry average. Id.

[89] Id.

[90] Id.

[91] Id.

[92] E.g., Kim Chipman, Obama’s Nuclear-Power Plan Set Back by Japan Quake Aftermath, Bloomberg Businessweek, Mar. 14, 2011, http://www.businessweek.com/news/2011-03-14/
obama-s-nuclear-power-plan-set-back-by-japan-quake-aftermath.html (last visited July, 17, 2011).

[93] Sara Barczak & Rita Kilpatrick, S. Alliance for Clean Energy, Energy Impacts on Georgia’s Water Resources 1 (2003), available at http://www.gwri.gatech.edu/uploads/
proceedings/2003/Barczak%20and%20Kilpatrick.PDF.

[94] Sovacool & Sovacool, supra note 65, at 341.

[95] Id.

[96] Id.

[97] Hearings, supra note 27, at 31 (statement of Dr. Bryan J. Hannegan, Vice President, Environment and Generation, Electric Power Research Institute).

[98] Mark D. Levine & Nathaniel T. Aden, Sustainable and Unsustainable Developments in the U.S. Energy System, in Agenda for A Sustainable America 145, 155 (John C. Dernbach ed., 2009).

[99] Id.

[100] Id.

[101] Hearings, supra note 27, at 36 (statement of Dr. Bryan Hannegan, Vice President, Environment and Generation, Electric Power Research Institute).

[102] See Sovacool & Sovacool, supra note 65, at 355–56.

[103] Id. (internal citations omitted).

[104] Id. at 356.

[105] Id.

[106] U.S. Dep’t of Energy, Natural Gas, http://www.energy.gov/energysources/naturalgas.htm (last visited Apr. 5, 2011).

[107] Reports have linked repeated instances of groundwater and drinking well contamination to hydraulic fracturing processes. See Tom Gjelten, Water Contamination Concerns Linger for Shale Gas, Nat’l Pub. Radio, Sept. 23, 2009, http://www.npr.org/templates/story/
story.php?storyId=113142234 (last visited April 5, 2011); Jeff Brady, Face-Off Over ‘Fracking’: Water Battle Brews on Hill, Nat’l Pub. Radio, May 27, 2009, http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=104565793&ps=rs (last visited Apr. 5, 2011); see also discussion infra Part II.A.2(d) (water use in the natural gas drilling and fracturing process).

[108] U.S. Dep’t of Energy, supra note 15, at 9, 17, 41, 55–68. Management of the large quantities of process water derived from fuel extraction, refining, and processing presents its own set of problems. The oil and natural gas industry produces an estimated 840 billion gallons of “produced water” every year. Hearings, supra note 27, at 18 (statement of Dr. Kristina M. Johnson, Under Secretary of Energy, U.S. Department of Energy). The EPA found that “[a]t 23 percent of the sampled oil and gas extraction sites . . . the produced water contained ‘one or more of the toxic constituents of concern at levels greater than 100 times the health-based standards.’” Hannah Wiseman, Regulatory Adaptation in Fractured Appalachia, 21 Villanova Envtl. L.J. 229, 245 (2010) (quoting Regulatory Determination for Oil and Gas and Geothermal Exploration, Development and Production Wastes, 53 Fed. Reg. 25,446, 25,455 (July 6, 1988)). Moreover, “EPA estimates that approximately 10 to 70 percent of large-volume wastes [from oil and gas production] and 40 to 60 percent of associated wastes could potentially exhibit [Resource Conservation and Recovery Act of 1976] hazardous waste characteristics.” 53 Fed. Reg. at 25,455.

[109] U.S. Dep’t of Energy, supra note 15, at 20.

[110] Bosselman et al., supra note 36, at 241.

[111] Hearings, supra note 27, at 5.

[112] U.S. Dep’t of Energy, supra note 15, at 57. According to American Petroleum Institute estimates, oil and gas operations in 1995 generated eighteen billion barrels of produced water, 70% of which was recycled for EOR. Hearings, supra note 27, at 5.

[113] Sovacool & Sovacool, supra note 65, at 346.

[114] U.S. Dep’t of Energy, supra note 15, at 20.

[115] Institute for Energy Research, Oil Shale, http://www.instituteforenergyresearch.org/
energy-overview/oil-shale/ (last visited July 3, 2011).

[116] U.S. Dep’t of Energy, supra note 15, at 20.

[117] Harry R. Johnson et al., AOC Petroleum Support Services, LLC, Strategic Significance of America’s Oil Shale Resource: Volume I: Assessment of Strategic Issues 2, 10 (2004), available at http://www.fossil.energy.gov/programs/reserves/npr/publications/
npr_strategic_significancev1.pdf (prepared for the Office of Naval Petroleum and Oil Shale Reserves, U.S. Dep’t of Energy).

[118] Office of Petroleum Reserves, U.S. Dep’t of Energy, Fact Sheet: Oil Shale Water Resources (2007), available at http://fossil.energy.gov/programs/reserves/npr/Oil_Shale_Water
_Requirements.pdf.

[119] U.S. Dep’t of Energy, supra note 15, at 20, 43, 58.

[120] Processing includes “in-situ heating processes, retorting, refining, reclamation, dust control and on-site worker demands.” Office of Petroleum Reserves, supra note 118.

[121] Id.

[122] The primary source of water in this region is the Colorado River Basin, the allocation of which is governed by the Colorado River Compact. Id.

[123] Office of Coal, Nuclear, Elec. and Alt. Fuels, U.S. Dep’t of Energy, Electric Power Monthly: October 2010, at 1 (2010) available at http://www.eia.doe.gov/ftproot/
electricity/epm/02261010.pdf. Additional power generated in the United States includes 22.9% by natural gas-fired plants and 19.5% by nuclear plants. Id.

[124] Id.

[125] Bosselman et al., supra note 36, at 170.

[126] U.S. Dep’t of Energy, supra note 15, at 53.

[127] Id.; see also U.S. Envtl. Prot. Agency, Clean Energy: Electricity from Coal, http://www.epa.gov/cleanenergy/energy-and-you/affect/coal.html (last visited Apr. 6, 2011).

[128] U.S. Dep’t of Energy, supra note 15, at 55.

[129] Id.

[130] Office of Coal, Nuclear, Elec. and Alt. Fuels, supra note 123, at 1.

[131] Wiseman, supra note 108, at 231 (defining “bridge fuel” as a term used to describe “domestically-available, relatively clean resources upon which Americans can rely as we move toward a more sustainable energy base”).

[132] Id. at 232.

[133] Jacqueline Lang Weaver, The Traditional Petroleum-Based Economy: An “Eventful” Future, 36 Cumb. L. Rev. 505, 519 (2006).

[134] Wiseman, supra note 108, at 233. Wiseman refers to the Marcellus Shale, which underlies the Appalachian region of the United States, as “the largest unconventional shale play in the world.” Id. at 234. It is estimated to contain up to 500 trillion cubic feet of gas. Id. at 240.

[135] J. Daniel Arthur et al., Water Resources and Use for Hydraulic Fracturing in the Marcellus Shale Region 1, available at http://www.netl.doe.gov/technologies/oil-gas/publications/ENVreports/FE0000797_WaterResourceIssues.pdf.

[136] Id. at 2.

[137] Wiseman, supra note 108, at 237 & n.37.

[138] Id. at 238.

[139] Id. at 238 n.50.

[140] Id. at 238–39 nn.50–51 (quoting Daniel J. Soeder & William M. Kappel, U.S. Geological Survey, Water Resources and Natural Gas Production from the Marcellus Shale 4 (2009), available at http://pubs.usgs.gov/fs/2009/3032/pdf/FS2009-3032.pdf). Note that “wells may be re-fractured multiple times after producing for several years.” Id. (quoting Railroad Comm’n of Tex., Water Use in the Barnett Shale, http://www.rrc.state.tx.us/barnettshale/
wateruse_barnettshale.php (last visited July 3, 2011)).

[141] Sovacool & Sovacool, supra note 65, at 346.

[142] Office of Coal, Nuclear, Elec. and Alt. Fuels, supra note 123, at 1.

[143] U.S. Energy Info. Admin., Introduction to Nuclear Power, http://www.eia.doe.gov/cneaf/
nuclear/page/intro.html (last visited Apr. 6, 2011).

[144] U.S. Dep’t of Energy, supra note 15, at 56.

[145] Id.

[146] Sovacool & Sovacool, supra note 65, at 348.

[147] Id.

[148] Hearings, supra note 27, at 5.

[149] Bosselman et al., supra note 36, at 851.

[150] Renewable energy resources are defined as “those that can be utilized without any discernable reduction in their future availability.” Id. at 835.

[151] Office of Coal, Nuclear, Elec. and Alt. Fuels, supra note 123, at 1.

[152] Hearings, supra note 27, at 25 (statement of Anu K. Mittal, Director, Natural Resources and Environment at the U.S. Government Accountability Office).

[153] U.S. Dep’t of Energy, supra note 15, at 20; Hearings, supra note 27, at 5.

[154] Hearings, supra note 27, at 26 (statement of Anu K. Mittal, Director, Natural Resources and Environment at the U.S. Government Accountability Office). Corn crops require fertilizer and pesticide applications, which some experts believe will result in an increase in the number of impaired streams and water bodies. See M. Wu et al., Ctr. for Transp. Research, Energy Sys. Div., Consumptive Water Use in the Production of Ethanol and Petroleum Gasoline 62 (2009).

[155] See Wu et al., supra note 154, at 25, 26; Kevin B. Hicks, New Milling Methods Improve Corn Ethanol Production, 52 Agric. Res. at 16, 16 (2004). In wet milling, the corn is soaked in water or dilute acid to separate the grain into its component parts before converting the starch to sugars that are then fermented to ethanol. In dry milling, the kernels are ground into a fine powder and processed without fractionating the grain into its component parts. Id.

[156] Hicks, supra note 155, at 16.

[157] Hearings, supra note 27, at 5.

[158] See Renewable Fuels Ass’n, Statistics, http://www.ethanolrfa.org/pages/statistics#C (last visited Apr. 4, 2011) (calculating the percent increase by subtracting the 2005 amount of 3,904 million gallons produced from the 2008 amount of 9,000 million gallons produced, which equals a difference of 5,096 million gallons, and then dividing that result by the 2005 amount, which equals a percent increase of 130.7%).

[159] Seven to 321 gallons of water per gallon of refined ethanol multiplied by nine billion gallons of produced ethanol equals 63 billion to 2.8 trillion gallons of water. Four gallons of water per gallon of refined ethanol multiplied by nine billion gallons of refined ethanol equals 36 billion gallons of water that is required.

[160] Robin Kundis Craig, Water Supply, Desalination, Climate Change, and Energy Policy, 22 Pac. McGeorge Global Bus. & Dev. L.J. 225, 247 (2010).

[161] U.S. Dep’t of Energy, supra note 15, at 25.

[162] Id.

[163] Id.

[164] Sovacool & Sovacool, supra note 65, at 365.

[165] Id.

[166] Id.

[167] See Gary Klein et al., Cal. Energy Comm’n, California’s Water–Energy Relationship 8 (2005).

[168] Craig, supra note 160, at 229.

[169] U.S. Dep’t of Energy, supra note 15, at 26.

[170] See Sovacool & Sovacool, supra note 65, at 365. In 2005, the California Energy Commission estimated energy requirements for the water supply and conveyance, treatment, and distribution as ranging as high as 18,700 kWh/million gallons. See U.S. Dep’t of Energy, supra note 15, at 25.

[171] U.S. Dep’t of Energy, supra note 15, at 27.

[172] See Webber, supra note 13, at 37 (explaining that “shipping in water over long distances . . . require[s] large amounts of energy”).

[173] Id. at 39.

[174] Id.

[175] Id.

[176] Craig, supra note 160, at 248.

[177] See id. at 228 (explaining that many countries are resorting to desalination as a solution). The Australian Government has dedicated more than AU$7.5 billion to desalination plants according to an October 2008 report of the Austria National Water Commission. Id. at 234. More than 2,000 desalination plants, with a total installed capacity of 1,600 million gallons per day, had been installed or contracted in the United States by January 2005. Id. at 245 (quoting Heather Cooley et al., Pac. Inst. for Studies in Dev., Env’t & Sec., Desalination, With a Grain of Salt: A California Perspective 21 (Ian Hart ed., 2006), available at http://www.pacinst.org/reports/desalination/desalination_report.pdf); see also Water Desalination Act of 1966, Pub. L. No. 104-298, 110 Stat. 3622 (1996) (authorizing $30 million over a six-year period for desalination research and an additional $25 million to fund desalination demonstration projects); Craig, supra note 160, at 235.

[178] Craig, supra note 160, at 247 (quoting National Research Council, Desalination: A National Perspective 41–42 (2008)).

[179] Id. at 249 (quoting Cooley et al., supra note 177, at 41).

[180] See Western Governor’s Ass’n, Water Needs and Strategies for a Sustainable Future 3–4 (2006), available at http://www.westgov.org/wga/publicat/Water06.pdf. Almost 50% of the United States was involved in drought in 2007, and the southeast was experiencing “the worst drought in more than a century.” Rice, supra note 19.

[181] Adler, supra note 17, at 209. For example, according to the United States Global Change Research Program, the southeast region can expect future droughts to increase in “frequency, duration, and intensity.” U.S. Global Change Research Program, Global Climate Change Impacts in the United States 112 (2009), available at http://downloads.globalchange.gov/
usimpacts/pdfs/climate-impacts-report.pdf.

[182] U.S. Gen. Accounting Office, GAO-03-514, Freshwater Supply: States’ Views of How Federal Agencies Could Help Them Meet the Challenges of Expected Shortages 5 (2003), available at http://www.gao.gov/new.items/d03514.pdf.

[183] See Robin Kundis Craig, “Stationarity is Dead”—Long Live Transformation: Five Principles for Climate Change Adaptation Law, 34 Harv. Envtl. L. Rev. 9, 15–16 (2010); see also U.S. Global Change Research Program, supra note 181, at 49 (explaining that the current system of evaluating water resources based on the assumption that baseline conditions will stay stationary is no longer valid in the face of climate change).

[184] See Robin Kundis Craig, Adapting Water Federalism to Climate Change Impacts: Energy Policy, Food Security, and the Allocation of Water Resources, 5 Envtl. & Energy L. & Pol’y J. 183, 216–18 (2010).

[185] Hearings, supra note 27, at 24 (statement of Anu K. Mittal, Director, Natural Resources and Environment at the U.S. Government Accountability Office).

[186] See U.S. Dep’t of Energy, supra note 15, at 10.

[187] U.S. Global Change Research Program, supra note 181, at 48.

[188] Hearings, supra note 27, at 24 (statement of Anu K. Mittal, Director, Natural Resources and Environment at the U.S. Government Accountability Office).

[189] United States families use considerably more water than the estimated thirteen gallons per capita per day necessary for basic needs, including drinking, cooking, bathing, washing, and sanitation. John Leshy, Notes on a Progressive National Water Policy, 3 Harv. L. & Pol’y Rev. 133, 136 (2009); see also Meena Palaniappan et al., Environmental Justice and Water, in The World’s Water 2006–2007: the Biennial Report on Freshwater Resources 117, 124 (2006) (noting that the average human requires fifty liters, or about thirteen gallons, per capita, per day to sustain life). Water use in some cities in the United States reaches as high as 300 gallons per capita. U.S. Forest Serv. Pac. Sw. Region, U.S. Dep’t of Agric., Water Use Facts, http://www.fs.
fed.us/r5/publications/water_resources/html/water_use_facts.html (last visited Apr. 5, 2011) (highlighting that a person in some Central Valley cities in California may use more than 300 gallons of water per day). However, the average American uses 80 to 100 gallons of water per day. U.S. Geological Survey, Water Q&A: Water Use at Home, http://ga.water.usgs.gov/edu/
qahome.html#HDR3 (last visited Apr. 10, 2011).

[190] Waters and Water Rights, supra note 22, § 4A.01(b).

[191] U.S. Global Change Research Program, supra note 181, at 53.

[192] Id. at 47.

[193] Population Div., U.S. Census Bureau, State Interim Population Projections 2005 tbl. 4 (2005), available at http://www.census.gov/population/www/projections/projectionsagesex.html (click on “Change in Total Population and Population 65 and Older by State: 2000 to 2030”).

[194] See sources cited supra note 20.

[195] Population Div., supra note 193, tbl. 4.

[196] U.S. Global Change Research Program, supra note 181, at 48 (noting the projected increases in population expected in the United States); id. at 55 (discussing how population shifts to regions of high air-conditioning will likely increase energy demands for cooling and noting the impacts of these changes in terms of warming).

[197] Id. at 111.

[198] Id. at 111–12 (noting the expected increase in the number of hot days for the region, including an expected increase of 105 very hot days a year in North Florida, for a total of more than 165 days).

[199] See id. at 112 (noting that for those very hot days in North Florida, the peak temperature will rise above ninety degrees Fahrenheit).

[200] Id. at 54.

[201] See id. at 54–55 (emphasizing that this building cooling dynamic will lead to more general and peak energy demand).

[202] Id. at 9.

[203] Id.

[204] Id. at 28.

[205] Id. at 9.

[206] See id. (noting current and future climate change-caused impacts related to water, including increased water temperatures, increased frequency and intensity of downpours, sea level rise, and reduced snow cover, glaciers, permafrost, and sea ice).

[207] Id. at 56.

[208] Id.

[209] Id. at 9.

[210] Id. at 53.

[211] See id. at 11 (noting that key to these carbon dioxide mitigation strategies are measures such as the use of less carbon intensive fuels and carbon sequestration technology); id. at 53 (highlighting the direct link between energy production and climate warming). The two major responses that society can take in response to climate change are “mitigation” and “adaptation.” Mitigation activities attempt to limit climate change by, for example, reducing heat-trapping emissions or removing some heat-trapping gases from the atmosphere. Adaptation, on the other hand, focuses on responding to new climatic or environmental conditions. Id. at 10–11.

[212] See Neil Adger et al., Summary for Policymakers, in Climate Change 2007: Impacts, Adaptation and Vulnerability: Contribution of Working Group II to the Fourth Assessment Report of the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change: Summary for Policymakers and Technical Summary 7, 14 (M.L. Parry et al. eds., 2007), available at http://www.ipcc.ch/publications_and_data/publications_ipcc_fourth_assessment_report_wg2_report_impacts_adaptation_and_vulnerability.htm (click on “Summary for Policymakers”) (noting expectations of decreased snowpack, increased flooding, and reduced summer flows in North America).

[213] U.S. Global Change Research Program, supra note 181, at 41.

[214] Id. at 41–46 (providing various examples of these region-specific changes expected).

[215] Id. at 44.

[216] Id. at 44–45.

[217] Id. at 44 (noting these dual effects may occur in the northeastern United States, among other areas).

[218] Id. at 9.

[219] Craig, supra note 184, at 209.

[220] U.S. Global Change Research Program, supra note 181, at 56.

[221] Craig, supra note 184, at 209.

[222] U.S. Global Change Research Program, supra note 181, at 9.

[223] U.S. Envtl. Prot. Agency, Coastal Zones and Sea Level Rise, http://www.epa.gov/
climatechange/effects/coastal/#ref (last visited Apr. 3, 2011).

[224] Id.

[225] Id.

[226] U.S. Global Change Research Program, supra note 181, at 11.

[227] Id. at 59 (“[E]very 1 percent decrease in precipitation results in a 2 to 3 percent drop in streamflow; every 1 percent decrease in streamflow in the Colorado River Basin results in a 3 percent drop in power generation.”).

[228] Id. at 56.

[229] See id. at 53.

[230] See id. at 56.

[231] See supra notes 17–19 and accompanying text; Adler, supra note 17, at 209–13; ‘Killer’ Southeast U.S. Drought Low On Scale, Says Study, Science Daily, Oct. 2, 2009, http://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2009/10/091001164104.htm (last visited Apr. 3, 2011).

[232] ‘Killer’ Southeast U.S. Drought Low On Scale, Says Study, supra note 231.

[233] Mitch Weiss, Drought Could Force Nuke-Plant Shutdowns, USA Today, Jan. 25, 2008, http://www.usatoday.com/weather/drought/2008-01-24-drought-power_N.htm (last visited July 12, 2011).

[234] Id.

[235] See Progress Energy, Harris Plant Information, http://progress-energy.com/aboutenergy/
powerplants/nuclearplants/harris.asp (last visited Apr. 5, 2011).

[236] See Weiss, supra note 233.

[237] Duke Energy, McGuire Nuclear Station, http://www.duke-energy.com/power-plants/
nuclear/mcguire.asp (last visited Apr. 5, 2011).

[238] See Weiss, supra note 233.

[239] Sovacool & Sovacool, supra note 65, at 360.

[240] Weiss, supra note 233.

[241] See Gaëlle Thivet, Plan Bleu, Strategies for Integrated Water and Energy Resources Management to Address Climate Change 2 (2008), available at http://www.planbleu.org/publications/4p_eau_energieUK.pdf.

[242] Weiss, supra note 233; Eric Fleischauer, TVA OKs Cooling Tower Expansion, The TimesDaily, Nov. 5, 2010, http://www.timesdaily.com/article/20101105/NEWS/101109870?
Title=TVA-OKs-cooling-tower-expansion (last visited June 18, 2011).

[243] U.S. Global Change Research Program, supra note 181, at 56.

[244] Id.

[245] Id. at 54–55.

[246] Climate change related impacts are affecting the agricultural sector in a number of ways. Plants need water to maintain temperatures that are within optimal range to prevent crop failure and reduced yields. Id. at 72. The irrigation sector may demand increased water to “cool” plants in response to longer growing seasons, increased daytime and nighttime temperatures, and increased periods of reduced precipitation and drought. Id. at 72–75. Increased demand in water by the agricultural sector is also the likely outcome of the increased interest in the production of biofuels and biodiesel as a domestic renewable energy source. Abrams & Hall, supra note 50, at 57.

[247] U.S. Dep’t of Energy, supra note 15, at 27.

[248] See supra notes 176–79 and accompanying text.

[249] U.S. Global Change Research Program, supra note 181, at 53.

[250] Among the impacts identified in the National Water Program Strategy Response to Climate Change are increases in water pollution, more extreme water-related events, changes in the availability of drinking water supplies, water body boundary movement and displacement, changing aquatic biology, and collective impacts on coastal areas. Office of Water, U.S. Envtl. Prot. Agency, National Water Program Strategy: Response to Climate Change, at ii (Sept. 2008), available at http://water.epa.gov/scitech/climatechange/upload/20081016_nwpsresponse
_to_climate_change_revised.pdf.

[251] Hearings, supra note 27, at 10 (statement of Dr. Kristina M. Johnson, Under Secretary of Energy, U.S. Department of Energy).

[252] Bosselman et al., supra note 36, at 724.

[253] U.S. Global Change Research Program, supra note 181, at 9.

[254] Id. at 11.

[255] Bosselman et al., supra note 36, at 834.

[256] In 2009, the United States consumed approximately 6.9 billion barrels of oil, 51% of which were imported from foreign countries. U.S. Energy Info. Admin., supra note 3.

[257] Daniel Stone, Flirting With Disaster, Newsweek, Jan. 10 & 17, 2011, at 38.

[258] Obama Moves to Back Nuclear Power, CBC News, Feb. 16, 2010, http://www.cbc.ca/
world/story/2010/02/16/obama-nuclear-loan.html#ixzz0kpDJUOsF (last visited June 18, 2011).

[259] Pub. L. 111-5, 123 Stat. 115 (codified as amended in scattered sections); U.S. Gov’t Printing Office, Public Law 111-5 – American Recovery and Reinvestment Act of 2009, http://www.gpo.gov/fdsys/pkg/PLAW-111publ5/content-detail.html (showing details of the location of its codification).

[260] Bosselman et al., supra note 36, at 834. Biodiesel, a “diesel fuel derived from fermenting waste vegetable oils or animal fats for use in vehicles,” is also experiencing a growth in production. Several federal programs, including tax credits, promote biodiesel production. Id. at 853.

[261] Energy Independence and Security Act of 2007, 42 U.S.C. §§ 17001–17386 (Supp. III 2006).

[262] Abrams & Hall, supra note 50, at 58; Energy Independence and Security Act of 2007, Pub. L. No. 110-140, §§ 201–202, 121 Stat. 1492, 1519–22 (2007) (defining “advanced biofuel” as “renewable fuel, other than ethanol derived from corn starch” and “renewable fuel” as “fuel that is produced from renewable biomass” and subsequently requiring the use of 20.5 billions of gallons of renewable fuel by 2015, and requiring 5.5 billion of these gallons to come from advanced biofuel).

[263] Renewable Fuels Ass’n, supra note 158 (calculating the percent increase by subtracting the 2005 amount, 3,904 million gallons produced, from the 2008 amount of 9,000 million gallons produced, which equals a difference of 5,096 million gallons, and then dividing that result by the 2005 amount, which equals a percent increase of 130.7%).

[264] Leshy, supra note 189, at 153.

[265] Sovacool & Sovacool, supra note 65, at 340. Note that the industry average is twenty-five gallons of water per kWh generated. Id.

[266] See id. at 341–42 (noting water withdrawal and consumption totals at several nuclear power plants in the United States).

[267] Id. at 356 (noting the water requirements of the Hope Creek nuclear power plant in New Jersey).

[268] Winnie Gerbens-Leenes et al., The Water Footprint of Bioenergy, Proceedings Nat’l Acad. Sci. U.S.A. 10219, 10220 (2009), available at www.pnas.org/cgi/doi/10.1073/
pnas.0812619106.

[269] Bosselman et al., supra note 36, at 1101.

[270] Note that biofuel contains both bioethanol and biodiesel. See Gerbens-Leenes et al., supra note 268, at 10219–20.

[271] Id. at 10222. According to the study, the water footprint for bioethanol appears to be smaller than biodiesel. Id.

[272] David Pimental & Tad Patzek, Green Plants, Fossil Fuels, and Now Biofuels, 56 Bioscience 875, 875 (2006).

[273] Webber, supra note 13, at 37–39.

[274] Leshy, supra note 189, at 154.

[275] Abrams & Hall, supra note 50, at 61.

[276] Id. at 60–61 (quoting Office of Water, Environmental Protection Agency, EPA Proposes New Requirements for Geologic Sequestration of Carbon Dioxide 1 (2008), available at http://www.epa.gov/safewater/uic/pdfs/fs_uic_co2_proposedrule.pdf).

[277] Id. at 61.

[278] Melanie D. Jensen et al., Carbon Separation and Capture, Plains CO2 Reduction (PCOR) Partnership 2 (2005), available at http://www.netl.doe.gov/technologies/carbon_seq/
partnerships/phase1/pdfs/CarbonSeparationCapture.pdf.

[279] Charles Duhigg, Cleansing the Air at the Expense of Waterways, N.Y. Times, Oct. 13, 2009, at A22.

[280] Carl Hulse & David M. Herszenhorn, Democrats Call Off Effort for Climate Bill in Senate, N. Y. Times, July 23, 2010, at A15.

[281] See supra notes 257–62 and accompanying text; Randy Schnepf & Brent D. Yacobucci, Cong. Research Serv., R40155, Renewable Fuel Standard (RFS): Overview and Issues 3 (2010).

[282] Webber, supra note 13, at 34–35.

[283] James H. McGrew, FERC’s Green Agenda, Trends: ABA Section of Environment, Energy and Resources, Mar.–Apr. 2010, at 1.

[284] U.S. Energy Info. Admin., Electric Power Industry 2009: Year in Review, http://www.eia.doe.gov/cneaf/electricity/epa/epa_sum.html (last visited July 2, 2011); Federal Energy Regulatory Comm’n, Hydropower, http://www.ferc.gov/industries/hydropower.asp (last visited Jul. 2, 2011); U.S. Nuclear Regulatory Comm’n, New Reactors: What We Regulate, http://www.nrc.gov/reactors/new-reactors.html (last visited July 2, 2011).

[285] Bosselman et al., supra note 36, at 13.

[286] 18 C.F.R. § 5.6 (2010) (describing the required contents of the pre-application document, which includes environmental considerations such as existing uses of water, wetland habitat, and other fish and aquatic resources); Fed. Energy Regulatory Comm’n, Handbook for Hydroelectric Project Licensing and 5 MW Exemptions from Licensing 2-3 to 2-5 (2004), available at http://www.ferc.gov/industries/hydropower/geninfo/handbooks/licensing_
handbook.pdf (detailing the process and requirements for applying for a license). Under the National Environmental Policy Act of 1969 (NEPA), 42 U.S.C. §§ 4321–4347 (2006), a federal agency would also be called on to consider environmental impacts before undertaking or approving “major Federal actions significantly affecting the quality of the human environment.” 42 U.S.C. § 4332(2)(C) (2006). In the case of NEPA, however, such consideration is to inform the decision-making process. The agency need only consider the impacts and alternative actions. It is not required to avoid the impacts. J.B. Ruhl et al., supra note 1, at 436. See also Robertson v. Methow Valley Citizens Council, 490 U.S. 332, 350–51 (1989).

[287] Federal Power Act, 16 U.S.C. §§ 791–828c (2006).

[288] When Congress passed the Federal Power Act, the Commission’s name was changed to the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission, or FERC. Bosselman et al., supra note 36, at 575 n.1.

[289] FERC licensing is required for any project that is: (1) located on a navigable water of the United States; (2) occupies land of the United States; (3) utilizes surplus water or water power from a government dam; or (4) is located on a body of water over which Congress has Commerce Clause jurisdiction and the project affects interstate commerce. 16 U.S.C. § 817(1) (2006). FERC also has jurisdiction over segments of the electricity and oil and gas industries, which include “some (but not all) aspects of the sale for resale and the transmission of electric energy in interstate commerce; the transportation of natural gas in interstate commerce; and the rates, terms and conditions of the interstate transportation of oil by pipeline.” McGrew, supra note 283, at 1; 16 U.S.C. § 824(a)–(d) (2006) (defining FERC jurisdiction of sale and transmission of electric energy); 15 U.S.C. § 3371(a)(1) (2006) (authorizing FERC oversight of interstate natural gas transportation); 49 U.S.C. § 60502 (2006) (granting FERC authority to establish rates for transport of oil by pipeline); Fed. Energy Regulatory Comm’n, What FERC Does, http://www.ferc.gov/about/ferc-does.asp (last visited Apr. 4, 2011).

[290] For example, under the traditional licensing process, there is little FERC involvement during the project scoping process that occurs during the pre-application stage. In the alternative licensing process, FERC involvement at this stage is limited to an advisory role. By comparison, in the integrated licensing process, FERC staff involvement “begins during the pre-filing consultation process and is sustained throughout the licensing process.” Fed. Energy Regulatory Comm’n, supra note 286, at 1-2.

[291] See Hydroelectric Licensing Under the Federal Power Act, 68 Fed. Reg. 51,070, 51,070 (Aug. 25, 2003) (to be codified at 18 C.F.R. pts. 2, 4, 5, 9, 16, 375, and 385).

[292] Bosselman et al., supra note 36, at 145.

[293] National Environmental Policy Act of 1969, 18 C.F.R. § 5.1(d)(1) (2010).

[294] Fed. Energy Regulatory Comm’n, supra note 286, at 2-4; see 18 C.F.R. § 5.6(d) (2010) (describing the content requirements for the PAD).

[295] Fed. Energy Regulatory Comm’n, supra note 286, at 2-5; 18 C.F.R. § 5.6(d) (2010) (listing the required resource impact descriptions in a PAD).

[296] 18 C.F.R. § 5.6(d)(3)(iii)(A)–(I) (2010).

[297] Bosselman et al., supra note 36, at 147.

[298] 18 C.F.R. § 5.1(d)(1) (2010).

[299] Bosselman et al., supra note 36, at 145.

[300] Id. at 147; see 18 C.F.R. § 5.11 (2010) (discussing what a “Potential Applicant’s proposed study plan” must include).

[301] 18 C.F.R. § 16.13 (2010).

[302] Federal Power Act, 16 U.S.C. § 803(2)(A) (2006). The nine factors include: the plans and ability of the applicant to comply with the term and conditions of a license; the plans of the applicant to manage and operate and maintain the project safely; the plans and abilities of the applicant to operate and maintain the project in a manner most likely to provide efficient and reliable electric service; the need of the applicant for the electricity generated by the project or projects to serve its customers; the existing and planned transmission services of the applicant; whether the plans of the applicant will be achieved, to the greatest extent possible, in a cost effective manner; and such other factors as the Commission may deem relevant. 16 U.S.C. § 808(a)(2)(A)–(G) (2006). In the case of relicensing, FERC will also consider the licensee’s record of compliance with the terms and conditions of the existing license and the actions taken by the licensee related to the project that affect the public. Id. § 808(a)(3)(A)–(B).

[303] 16 U.S.C. § 803(a)(1) (2006).

[304] A comprehensive plan consists of a comprehensive study of one or more of the beneficial uses of a waterway or waterways which is filed with FERC and which describes significant resources of the waterways (including navigation, power development, energy conservation, fish and wildlife, recreation, irrigation, flood control, and water supply); various existing and planned uses for those resources; as well as a discussion of goals, objectives, and recommendations for improving developing or conserving the waterways. See Fed. Energy Regulatory Comm’n, Hydropower General Information: Comprehensive Plans, http://www.ferc.gov/industries/hydropower/gen-info/comp-plans.asp (last visited June 18, 2011).

[305] 16 U.S.C. § 803(a)(2) (2006). In the case of a state or municipal applicant, or an applicant which is primarily engaged in the generation or sale of electric power (other than electric power solely from cogeneration facilities or small power production facilities), FERC shall also consider “the electricity consumption efficiency improvement program of the applicant, including its plans, performance and capabilities for encouraging or assisting its customers to conserve electricity cost-effectively, taking into account the published policies, restrictions, and requirements of relevant State regulatory authorities applicable to such applicant.” Id. § 803(a)(2)(C).

[306] See id. § 797(a) (authorizing FERC to investigate whether a proposed project “can be advantageously used by the United States for its public purposes”); id. § 797(e) (directing FERC to determine whether a proposed project is “in the judgment of the Commission, desirable and justified in the public interest”); see also 18 C.F.R. § 16.13 (2010).

[307] Bosselman et al., supra note 36, at 130–31.

[308] Fed. Energy Regulatory Comm’n, The Strategic Plan: FY 2009–2014, at 2 (2009), available at http://www.ferc.gov/about/strat-docs/FY-09-14-strat-plan-print.pdf.

[309] Atomic Energy Act of 1954, 42 U.S.C. §§ 2011–2297 (2006).

[310] See id. § 2131 (requiring “any person within the United States to transfer or receive in interstate commerce, manufacture, produce, transfer, acquire, possess, use, import, or export any [atomic energy] utilization or production facility” to obtain a license from the NRC).

[311] 10 C.F.R. § 50 (2010).

[312] Bosselman et al., supra note 36, at 1018.

[313] The NRC administers the AEA and was established by the Energy Reorganization Act of 1974. 42 U.S.C. §§ 5801–5891 (2006).

[314] See 10 C.F.R. § 52 (2010); Bosselman et al., supra note 36, at 1018. Note that an applicant may still proceed with licensing under Part 50’s traditional two-step process. Id. at 1019.

[315] See 10 C.F.R. § 52 (2010).

[316] U.S. Nuclear Regulatory Comm’n, Frequently Asked Questions About License Applications for New Nuclear Power Reactors 14 (2009), available at http://www.nrc.gov/
reading-rm/doc-collections/nuregs/brochures/br0468/br0468.pdf.

[317] The ESP is “valid for not less than 10, nor more than 20 years.” 10 C.F.R. § 52.26(a) (2010). It may be renewed for up to twenty additional years. Id. § 52.33.

[318] Bosselman et al., supra note 36, at 1023.

[319] Id.

[320] Id.

[321] Id. at 1026.

[322] U.S. Nuclear Regulatory Comm’n, supra note 316, at 12. 10 C.F.R. § 52.18 requires the NRC to prepare an EIS in accordance with applicable provisions of 10 C.F.R. pt. 51 in connection with review of the ESP application. See 10 C.F.R. § 52.18 (2010).

[323] U.S. Nuclear Regulatory Comm’n, supra note 316, at 30; 10 C.F.R. § 50.30(f) (2010) (“An application for a[n] . . . early site permit . . . for a nuclear power reactor . . . whose construction or operation may be determined by the Commission to have a significant impact on the environment, shall be accompanied by an Environmental Report . . . .”); see also 10 C.F.R. § 51.41 (2010).

[324] 10 C.F.R. § 51.45(b) (2010).

[325] Id. § 51.45(c).

[326] U.S. Nuclear Regulatory Comm’n, Environmental Standard Review Plan: Standard Review Plans for Environmental Reviews for Nuclear Power Plants 1 (1999), available at http://www.nrc.gov/reading-rm/doc-collections/nuregs/staff/sr1555/sr1555.pdf.

[327] Id. at 2.3.1-1.

[328] Id.

[329] Id. at 2.3.1-2 to 1-5.

[330] Id. at 2.3.2-1.

[331] Id. at 2.3.3-1 (calling for consideration of physical, chemical, and biological water quality characteristics of ground and surface water).

[332] Id. at 3.3.2-1 (calling for consideration of treatment needed for plant water streams).

[333] Id. at 3.3.1-1, 3.3.1-3 (emphasis added).

[334] See Robertson v. Methow Valley Citizens Council, 490 U.S. 332, 349 (1989) (“The statutory requirement that a federal agency contemplating a major action prepare such an environmental impact statement serves NEPA’s ‘action-forcing’ purpose in two important respects. It ensures that the agency, in reaching its decision, will have available, and will carefully consider, detailed information concerning significant environmental impacts; it also guarantees that the relevant information will be made available to the larger audience that may also play a role in both the decisionmaking process and the implementation of that decision.”) (citation omitted).

[335] See id. at 350 (“Although these procedures are almost certain to affect the agency’s substantive decision, it is now well settled that NEPA itself does not mandate particular results, but simply prescribes the necessary process. If the adverse environmental effects of the proposed action are adequately identified and evaluated, the agency is not constrained by NEPA from deciding that other values outweigh the environmental costs.”) (citation omitted).

[336] See, e.g., supra text accompanying notes 329–33.

[337] U.S. Nuclear Regulatory Comm’n, supra note 316, at 69.

[338] 10 C.F.R. § 52.17(a)(1) (2010).

[339] U.S. Nuclear Regulatory Comm’n, Standard Review Plan for the Review of Safety Analysis Reports for Nuclear Power Plants 1 (1987), available at http://www.nrc.gov/
reading-rm/doc-collections/nuregs/staff/sr0800/.

[340] U.S. Nuclear Regulatory Comm’n, supra note 316, at 68.

[341] See U.S. Nuclear Regulatory Comm’n, supra note 339, at 2.4.1, 2.4.2, 2.4.11, 2.4.12.

[342] Id. at 2.4.11-5.

[343] Id. at 2.4.11-4 to 11-8, 2.4.11-11.

[344] U.S. Nuclear Regulatory Comm’n, supra note 316, at 2–3.

[345] Bosselman et al., supra note 36, at 1012.

[346] See supra text accompanying notes 333–36.

[347] See U.S. Nuclear Regulatory Comm’n, supra note 339, at 2.4.11-2.

[348] A license may be issued for up to a forty-year period. 10 C.F.R § 50.51(a) (2010).

[349] U.S. Nuclear Regulatory Comm’n, supra note 339, at 2.4.2-14.

[350] J.B. Ruhl, Climate Change and the Endangered Species Act: Building Bridges to the No-Analog Future, 88 B.U.L. Rev. 1, 23 (2008).

[351] Craig, supra note 183, at 29.

[352] Modifications to site conditions, design parameters or ESP terms and conditions will be permitted when: the applicant requests a variance from such conditions; when necessary to bring the ESP into compliance with regulations that existed at the time of its issuance; when necessary to adequately protect public health and safety; or upon determining that such modification is necessary based on updated information filed by the applicant concerning emergency preparedness or as a result of a contested COL application. 10 C.F.R. § 52.39(a)(1) (2010).

[353] See Craig, supra note 183, at 16.

[354] See Federal Water Pollution Control Act, 33 U.S.C. § 1326(b) (2006); U.S. Envtl. Prot. Agency, Clean Water Act Section 316(b) Existing Facilities Proposed Rule Qs and As (2011), available at http://water.epa.gov/lawsregs/lawsguidance/cwa/316b/upload/
qa_proposed.pdf (discussing the changes regulated entities could anticipate, including requirements for facilities with large withdrawals to conduct studies specifically to determine entrainment mortality controls and requiring low flows at intake for new facilities).

[355] 33 U.S.C. § 1313(d) (2006).

[356] Id. § 1342(a).

[357] Id. § 1326(b).

[358] Nat’l Energy Tech. Lab., supra note 12, at A-3.

[359] 33 U.S.C. §§ 1313(d)(1)(A), (C) (2006).

[360] Id. § 1313(d)(1)(C).

[361] Nat’l Energy Tech. Lab., supra note 12, at A-3.

[362] Id.

[363] Id.

[364] See Bosselman et al., supra note 36, at 13.

[365] See Webber, supra note 13, at 35 (“Woefully underappreciated, however, is the reality that each of these precious commodities [water and energy] might soon cripple our use of the other. . . . A few are voicing concerns about peak water. But almost no one is addressing the tension between the two . . . .”).

[366] On June 26, 2009, the House of Representatives passed the American Clean Energy and Security Act of 2009, also referred to as the Waxman-Markey Bill. H.R. 2454, 111th Cong. (2009); GovTrack.us, H.R. 2454: American Clean Energy and Security Act of 2009, http://www.govtrack.us/congress/bill.xpd?bill=h111-2454 (last visited Jul. 2, 2011). The Senate chose not to consider the legislation before the end of the legislative term. See Carl Hulse & David Herszenhorn, supra note 280, at A15 (noting that political reality drove the Senate’s refusal to take up climate change legislation in the face of more pressing needs, such as legislation to address the oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico). Although Congress has yet to pass climate change legislation, greenhouse gas regulation remains “at the forefront of Washington’s environmental agenda.” Roger R. Martella, Jr., Climate Change Along the Northeast Corridor: How Washington and New York Are Approaching and Preparing for Greenhouse Gas Controls, 18 N.Y.U. Envtl. L.J. 14, 15 (2010). The EPA also continues to pursue multiple regulatory initiatives designed to regulate greenhouse gases under the Clean Air Act. Some of these regulatory initiatives are in response to the United States Supreme Court’s decision in Massachusetts v. EPA, 549 U.S. 497 (2007). For example, in December of 2009, the EPA Administrator found that “greenhouse gases from new motor vehicles . . . contribute to the greenhouse gas air pollution that endangers public health and welfare under [Clean Air Act] section 202(a).” See Endangerment and Cause or Contribute Findings for Greenhouse Gases Under Section 202(a) of the Clean Air Act, 74 Fed. Reg. 66496 (Dec. 15, 2009) (to be codified at 40 C.F.R. § 1). For a summary of EPA’s climate change regulatory initiatives, see U.S. Envt’l Prot. Agency, Climate Change: Regulatory Initiatives, http://www.epa.gov/climatechange/
initiatives/index.html (last visited Apr. 6, 2011). There appears to be a concerted effort by some members of Congress, however, to prevent EPA from moving forward with regulation of stationary sources. See James E. McCarthy & Larry Parker, EPA Regulation of Greenhouse Gases: Congressional Responses and Options 2–3 (2010), available at http://www.fas.org/
sgp/crs/misc/R41212.pdf (describing legislation introduced by some members of Congress in response to EPA attempting to regulate greenhouse gas emissions).

[367] Energy Policy Act of 2005, Pub. L. 109-58, 119 Stat. 594 (codified as amended in scattered sections); U.S. Gov’t Printing Office, Public Law 109-58 – Energy Policy Act of 2005, http://www.gpo.gov/fdsys/pkg/PLAW-109publ58/content-detail.html (showing details of the location of its codification).

[368] Pub. L. 109-58, § 1701–04, 119 Stat. 594, 1117–22 (2005) (codified at 42 U.S.C. §§ 16511–14 (2006)).

[369] Pub. L. 109-58, § 54, 119 Stat. 594, 992–94 (2005) (codified at 26 U.S.C. § 54 (2006)).

[370] Pub. L. 109-58, 119 Stat. 594 (2005) (codified at 42 U.S.C. § 7545(o) (Supp. III 2006)); see also Jay P. Kesan & Christopher J. Miller, The Renewable Fuel Standard: Mandating Renewable Fuel Production in the United States, Trends: ABA Section of Environment, Energy and Resources, Sept.–Oct. 2010, at 4.

[371] See Energy Independence and Security Act of 2007, Pub. L. 110-140, § 202, 121 Stat. 1492, 1521–23 (codified as amended at 42 U.S.C. § 7545(o) (Supp. III 2006)). Congress also gave EPA the authority to mandate production of certain volumes of renewable fuel beyond 2023 through rulemaking.Pub. L. 109-58, § 202, 119 Stat. 594, 1523 (codified as amended at 42 U.S.C. § 7545(o)(2)(B)(II) (Supp. III 2006).

[372] Pub. L. 109-58, § 202, 119 Stat. 594, 1523 (codified as amended at 42 U.S.C. § 7545(o)(2)(B)(II) (Supp. III 2006) (mandating the use of “renewable fuel,” which is defined as “fuel that is produced from renewable biomass.”); see also Kesan & Miller, supra note 370, at 4.

[373] Pub. L. 111-5, § 4, 123 Stat. 115, 140.

[374] Pub. L. 111-5, sec. 1101–03, § 45(d), 123 Stat. 115, 319–21.

[375] Pub. L. 111-5, sec. 1111, § 54C(c), 123 Stat. 115, 322.

[376] Craig, supra note 184, at 226–29.

[377] Omnibus Public Land Management Act of 2009 § 9508; 42 U.S.C. § 10368 (Supp. III 2006)).

[378] Craig, supra note 184, at 227.

[379] 42 U.S.C. § 10368(b)(1)(A), (b)(2) (Supp. III 2006).

[380] Id. § 10368(a) (emphasis added).

[381] Id. § 10368(d).

[382] Id. (emphasis added).

[383] Id. § 10365(a).

[384] Id. § 10363(a).

[385] See id.; id. § 10362(17) (defining the term “service area”).

[386] Id. § 10363(a).

[387] Id. § 10363(b)(3)(B).

[388] Id. § 10363(b)(4).

[389] Office of Water, U.S. Envtl. Prot. Agency, National Water Program Strategy: Response to Climate Change, at i (2008), available at http://www.epa.gov/ow/climatechange/
docs/TO5_DRAFT_CCR_Revised_10-16.pdf.

[390] Id. at iii. EPA breaks down its efforts into five separate “goals” that provide a framework for the specific adaptation and mitigation strategies that EPA intends to take in response to climate change. These goals include mitigation of greenhouse gases, adaptation to climate change, climate change research related to water, education of water program professionals on climate change impacts to water resources and water programs, and establishing capability to manage climate change challenges on a sustained basis. Id. at iii–iv.

[391] U.S. Dep’t. of Energy, supra note 15, at 3.

[392] Id.

[393] Id.

[394] Nat’l Energy Tech. Lab., supra note 12.

[395] Id. at 1.

[396] The Energy and Water Research Integration Act, H.R. 3598, 111th Cong. § 2 (2009), passed the House of Representatives on December 1, 2009, directed the Secretary of Energy to advance energy technologies and practices that would “minimize freshwater withdrawal and consumption; increase water use efficiency; and utilize nontraditional water sources . . . ; consider the effects climate variability and change may have on water supplies and quality for energy generation and fuel production;” and improve understanding of the interdependencies between energy and water production and use. It further requires the Secretary to establish technical milestones for technologies designed to improve efficiencies in energy generation, fuel production, and traditional and non-traditional water use, recovery, and treatment. Id.

[397] Id. pmbl.

[398] Energy and Water Integration Act of 2009, S. 531, 111th Cong. (2009). The bill was introduced to the Senate on March 5, 2009, but never made it out of committee.

[399] Id. §§ 2–4; see also Kray, supra note 22, § 4A.02.

[400] S. 531, § 2(b) (describing sector assessments within the “scope of study”).

[401] Id. § 2(b)(4).

[402] The study would identify and evaluate strategies to maximize water and energy efficiency in the production of electricity, including the assessment of energy production efficiency by type of generation facility (e.g., coal, oil, natural gas, hydropower, thermal, solar, and nuclear). Id. § 3(a)–(b).

[403] Id. § 4(b)(1).

[404] Charles Hanley, As World Warms, Negotiators Give Talks Another Try, Minn. Pub. Radio, Nov 20, 2010, http://minnesota.publicradio.org/display/web/2010/11/20/climate-change-conference/ (last visited July 3, 2011).

[405] See J.B. Ruhl et al., Proposal for a Model State Watershed Management Act, 33 Envtl. L. 929, 931 (2003) (identifying “watershed-based problems” that could benefit from “watershed-based solutions” including “river fragmentation . . . , the loss of riverine wetlands, and the separation of river channels from floodplains through levees”).

[406] Nonpoint Source Control Branch, U.S. Envt’l Prot. Agency, Handbook for Developing Watershed Plans to Restore and Protect Our Waters 2-2 (2008), available at http://www.epa.gov/owow/nps/watershed_handbook.

[407] See id. (“Using a watershed approach to restore impaired waterbodies is beneficial because it addresses the problems in a holistic manner and the stakeholders in the watershed are actively involved in selecting the management strategies that will be implemented to solve the problems.”).

[408] A handful of states, including Florida, “have adopted multi-tiered approaches” to watershed planning that attempt to integrate land use planning and resource allocation. Ruhl et al., supra note 405, at 939. Florida’s watershed-based management program is designed around five state Water Management Districts (WMDs) drawn on watershed boundaries rather than political boundaries. Florida Water Resources Act of 1972, Fla. Stat. §§ 373.013–373.71, 373.069 (2010). Each WMD is required to produce a district water management plan based on a 20-year planning cycle that “addresses water supply, water quality, flood protection and floodplain management, and natural systems.” Id. § 373.036(2)(a). As part of its planning effort, each WMD conducts a Water Supply Assessment that compares existing and reasonably anticipated future needs against existing and reasonably anticipated water sources to determine whether supply is adequate to meet the demands of that district. Id. § 373.036(2)(b)(4). The Florida Department of Environmental Protection (FDEP) reviews the WMDs’ Water Management Plans to ensure consistency with the Florida Water Plan, the “principal planning tool for long-term protection of Florida’s water resources.” St. Johns River Water Management District, District Water Management Plan 3 (2005), available at http://www.sjrwmd.com/dwmp/pdfs/DWMP
_2005_final.pdf; see id. § 373.026(7) (describing FDEP’s “general supervisory authority over all water management districts”). For a suggested model for a multi-tiered approach to state watershed management, see Ruhl et al., supra note 405, at 942–45.

[409] For example, under the Florida Water Resource Act, a Consumptive Use Permit is required for power plants seeking to withdraw water for cleaning, cooling, and other activities. Fla. Stat. § 373.223 (2010). That notwithstanding, water resource planning is not mandated under the criteria considered by the Florida Public Service Commission when making decisions concerning power plant siting. Id. § 403.519 (requiring only the consideration of need and reliability).

[410] William Funk, Introduction to American Constitutional Structure 302 (2008); see also Craig, supra note 184, at 185, 192–93 (describing state law control over water allocation as a “quintessential example of states’ rights or decentralized federalism”).

[411] For an overview of the federal-state relationship regarding water and the historical federal deference to state water law and policy, see Robert W. Adler, Climate Change and the Hegemony of State Water Law, 29 Stan. Envtl. L.J. 1 (2010). See also Craig, supra note 184, at 192–97.

[412] See, e.g., Federal Power Act of 1935 §27, 16 U.S.C. § 821 (2006) (savings clause stating that the Federal Power Act does not “affect or in any way [] interfere with the laws of the respective States relating to the control, appropriation, use, or distribution of water”); see also Adler, supra note 411, at 4 n.10 (citing the savings clause in the FPA for Professor Adler’s proposition that “state water law has reigned supreme as the primary authority governing the allocation and use of water resources, as proclaimed by Congress”); Federal Water Pollution Control Act, 33 U.S.C. § 1251(g) (2006) (recognizing the primary responsibilities and rights of states over water resources); Desert Lands Act of 1877, 43 U.S.C. § 321 (2006) (requiring recipients of desert land patents to acquire “the right to the use of water by . . . bona fide prior appropriation,” which is governed by the states); Reclamation Act of 1902 § 8, 43 U.S.C. § 383 (2006) (nothing in the Reclamation Act shall “be construed as affecting or intended to affect or to in any way interfere with the laws of any State or Territory relating to the control, appropriation, use, or distribution of water used in irrigation, or any vested right”).

[413] 33. U.S.C. § 1251(g) (2006).

[414] Omnibus Public Lands Management Act of 2009, 42 U.S.C. § 10361(4) (Supp. III 2006).

[415] Adler, supra note 411, at 31.

[416] Id. at 60.

[417] See Bosselman et al., supra note 36, at 13 (noting that “state systems . . . have not been replaced by the new federal regulatory programs”); infra text accompanying note 410–11.

[418] Atomic Energy Act of 1954, 42 U.S.C. § 2021(k) (2006).

[419] Pac. Gas & Elec. Co. v. State Energy Res. Conservation & Dev. Comm’n, 461 U.S. 190, 206 (1983) (quoting Rice v. Santa Fe Elevator Corp., 331 U.S. 218, 230 (1947)).

[420] Id. at 205.

[421] Consol. Edison Co. of N.Y. Inc., 7 N.R.C. 31, 34 (1978).

[422] David Schoenbrod et al., Breaking the Logjam: Environmental Protection that Will Work 45 (2010).

[423] See Ruhl, supra note 1, at 21.

[424] Adler, supra note 411, at 7–8.

[425] Leshy, supra note 189, at 144.

[426] See Schoenbrod et al., supra note 422, at 29.

[427] Reed D. Benson, Deflating the Deference Myth: National Interests vs. State Authority Under Federal Laws Affecting Water Use, 2006 Utah L. Rev. 241, 316 (2006).

[428] Schoenbrod et al., supra note 422, at 47.

[429] See supra Part V.B.

[430] Omnibus Public Land Management Act of 2009, 42 U.S.C. § 10368(a)(6) (Supp. III 2006).

[431] Id. § 10368(d).

[432] Id.

[433] See id. § 10363(a).

[434] Id. § 10363(a)(2).

[435] Id. § 10363(b)(3)–(4).

[436] Pub. L. No. 111-11, § 6001, 123 Stat. 1165 (2009) (codified at 16 U.S.C. § 1015 (Supp. III 2006)).

[437] Omnibus Public Lands Act of 2009, 16 U.S.C. § 1015a(a) (Supp. III 2006).

[438] Id. § 1015(5).

[439] Id. § 1015(5)(D) (emphasis added). Specifically, “watershed group” is defined as a “self-sustaining, cooperative watershed-wide group that—

(A)    is comprised of representatives of the affected stakeholders of the relevant watershed;

(B)    incorporates the perspectives of a diverse array of stakeholders, including, to the maximum extent practicable—

(i)     representatives of—

(I) hydroelectric production;

(II)            livestock grazing;

(III)          timber production;

(IV)           land development;

(V)            recreation or tourism;

(VI)           irrigated agricultural production;

(VII)          the environment;

(VIII)         potable water purveyors and industrial water users; and

(IX)           private property owners within the watershed;

(ii)    any Federal agency that has authority with respect to the watershed;

(iii)   any State agency that has authority with respect to the watershed;

(iv)   any local agency that has authority with respect to the watershed; and

(v)    any Indian tribe that —

(I) owns land within the watershed; or

(II)            has land in the watershed that is held in trust;

(C)    is a grassroots, non-regulatory entity that addresses water availability and quality issues within the relevant watershed;

(D)    is capable of promoting the sustainable use of the water resources of the relevant watershed and improving the functioning condition of rivers and streams through—

(i)     water conservation;

(ii)    improved water quality;

(iii)   ecological resiliency; and

(iv)   the reduction of water conflicts; and

(E)    makes decisions on a consensus basis, as defined in the bylaws of the watershed group.” Id. § 1015(5).

[440] Id. § 1015a(c)(2)(A)(i).

[441] Id. § 1015a(c)(2)(A)(ii).

[442] Id. § 1015a(c)(2)(B)(i).

[443] Id. § 1015a(c)(2)(B)(ii). Section 1015(6) defines the term “Watershed Management Project” as “any project (including a demonstration project) that—

(A)    enhances water conservation, including alternative water uses;

(B)    improves water quality;

(C)    improves ecological resiliency of a river or stream;

(D)    reduces the potential for water conflicts; or

(E)    advances any other goals associated with water quality or quantity that the Secretary determines to be appropriate.” Id. § 1015(6).

[444] Id. § 1015a(c)(2)(C)(i)(I).

[445] Id. § 1015a(c)(2)(C)(ii). The grant program is structured as a cost share which requires watershed groups performing projects under second and third phase grants to contribute at least 50% of the total cost of the watershed management activities. Id. § 1015a(d).

[446] Craig, supra note 184, at 202.

[447] Id.

[448] Id. at 206.

[449] Id. at 207.

[450] J.B. Ruhl, Endangered Species Act Innovations in the Post-Babbittonian Era—Are There Any?, 14 Duke Envtl. L. & Pol’y F. 419, 429 (2004).

[451] Leshy, supra note 189, at 152.

[452] See Clinton W. Shinn, The Federal Grant Program to Aid Construction of Municipal Sewage Treatment Plants: A Survey of the 1972 FWPCA Amendments, 48 Tul. L. Rev. 85, 87–88 (1974).

[453] Id. at 86–88.

[454] Michael Cooper, In Aging Water Systems, Bigger Threats Are Seen, N.Y. Times, Apr. 19, 2009, at A14.

[455] See Nat’l Inst. of Standards and Tech., Advanced Sensing Technologies for the Infrastructure: Roads, Highways, Bridges and Water 2 (2008), available at http://www.nist.gov/tip/prev_competitions/upload/cnn_white_paperfinal.pdf.

[456] Office of Research and Dev., U.S. Envt’l Prot. Agency, Aging Water Infrastructure Research Program: Addressing the Challenge Through Innovation 3 (2007), available at http://www.epa.gov/nrmrl/pubs/600f07015/600f07015.pdf.

[457] Id. at 2.

[458] Cooper, supra note 454.

[459] See Susan Thornton, A Quiet Crisis Below Ground, The Denver Post, Sept. 18, 2008, available at http://www.denverpost.com/thornton/ci_10492095 (noting EPA nationwide estimates of “a $540 billion gap between what communities are spending on water infrastructure and the actual investments needed”).

[460] Nat’l Inst. of Standards and Tech., supra note 455, at 2.

[461] Thornton, supra note 459; Nat’l Inst of Standards and Tech., supra note 455, at 2 (“Drops in water system pressure, resulting from water main breaks, lead to microbial contamination of drinking water.”).

[462] Charles Duhigg, Repair Costs Daunting as Water Lines Crumble, N.Y. Times, Mar. 15, 2010, at A1, A15.

[463] Office of Research and Dev., supra note 456, at 2.

[464] Nat’l Inst. of Standards and Tech., supra note 455, at 2; see also G. Kunkel, Phila. Water Dep’t., Developments in Water Loss Control Policy and Regulation in the United States 3 (2005) available at http://waterloss2007.com/Leakage2005.com/pdf/Developments (describing the 1995 USGS estimate of “public use and loss” in water withdrawals).

[465] Clean Water Council of N. J., Draft Recommendations for Water Infrastructure Management and Financing: White Paper for Public Hearing and Comment, October 12, 2010, at 1 (2010) available at http://www.nj.gov/dep/cleanwatercouncil/pdf/2010
_recommendations_water_infrastructure_financing_draft_public_release_1.pdf.

[466] Duhigg, supra note 462, at A15.

[467] See Office of Research and Dev., supra note 456, at 3.

[468] Id.

[469] See, e.g., American Recovery & Reinvestment Act of 2009, Pub. L. No. 111-5, § 3(a)(4), 123 Stat. 115 (establishing one of the Act’s purposes as “[t]o invest in transportation, environmental protection, and other infrastructure that will provide long-term economic benefits”).

[470] McGrew, supra note 283, at 1.

[471] Id. at 14.

[472] Kenneth B. Driver, Annual Report: VI. Electricity, 2009 Pub. Util. Comm. & Transp. L. 79, 82 (2009).

[473] Id.

[474] Webber, supra note 13, at 38.

Unnatural Foundations: Legal Education’s Ecologically-Dismissive Subtexts

Unnatural Foundations: Legal Education’s Ecologically-Dismissive Subtexts

By

Don Ellinghausen, Jr.*

The specter of accelerating environmental decline, increasingly accompanied by a full-throated, corporate-financed chorus of climate change deniers and free market fundamentalists, has prompted environmentalists to apply greater scrutiny to those forces and institutions reinforcing and abetting this revanchist phenomenon. An emerging analysis contends that legal education serves as an indispensable resource for anti-environmentalism, given that it perpetuates the production of zealous practitioners who serve as apparent values-free apparatchiks—as opposed to responsible planetary citizens—furthering an increasingly destructive corporate-development agenda. Legal education notably frustrates the fostering of environmental empathy through its continuing adherence to an anachronistic, anthropocentric curriculum conceived in a pre-ecological worldview. This curriculum thwarts earth-consciousness through reifying property, discussed within a constricted parts-and-parcels, case-analysis perspective which excludes the critical considerations of holism and interconnection. Property analysis remains rooted in a pre-modern paradigm, blowing the dust off Victorian logics wholly inapt for our oil-and-carcinogen-soaked world. Constitutional law courses also imbue the flawed message that “neutral” analytical tools exist, in which language serves only its “own” interests, all the while as “nature” is evaluated only within contemporary capitalism’s use-development parameters. Students frequently fail to comprehend how aggressively-ideological agendas masquerade behind such linguistic legerdemain, as ardent anti-environmental arguments disappear down Borgesian mazes of semantic manipulation. Finally, ethical concerns remain restricted within practitioner-enabling versus socially-cognizant confines; ask not what you can do for your planet, but what your planet can do for you. The implicit endorsement of environmentally-oblivious career paths begins with awarding accolades and plaudits to those students who assume positions at the commanding heights of the growth-fixated, ecologically-dismissive corporate apparatus. Little or no consideration is given to just what “output measures” (the entity once better known as “values”) legal education provides. This article seeks to examine why the enduring lesson of legal education is that almost everything is “natural”—except nature.

 

I. Introduction

If we are dwelling within a system that is degrading life on Earth, then every node of the system requires attention.[1]

Four decades after the inaugural Earth Day, a substantial number of law schools offer environmental law specializations, with most providing elective courses for those students eager to develop insights and skills in this thriving area of advocacy.[2] However, this development has been shadowed by the rise of a resurgent anti-environmentalism, as aggressive corporate-promoted co-option (“greenwashing”) and confrontation (global warming “denialism”) have obscured or belittled otherwise unavoidable indications of accelerating environmental decline.[3] Prospects for impactful reform have dimmed, despite the abundance of studies portending potentially calamitous climate change. As environmentalists’ concerns over these increasingly-inescapable harbingers of ecological damage grow, so too have the efforts of some in their ranks to identify and target those deemed most responsible for marginalizing and minimizing the potency of their message.

Deep ecologists, eco-socialists, and other systemic-focused critics consider the legal profession the linchpin of this emboldened anti-ecological perspective, noting that “[t]he number of lawyers hired by single corporations to defend themselves against any limitation of their perceived rights to exploit the natural world is evidence of the strange principles of jurisprudence that allow the devastation of the planet to proceed.”[4] They also contend that “[o]ur legal and political establishments perpetuate, protect and legitimi[z]e the . . . degradation of [the] Earth by design, not by accident.”[5] The “perpetuate and protect” accusation refers to the number of prestigious law firms and legally-advised industry pressure groups that facilitate this process, while the “legitimize” label is affixed to legal education, which is considered thoroughly complicit in environmental degradation, given that “law schools teach the principles that allow these violations of the planet.”[6]

Legal education evades or otherwise implicitly discourages necessary whole earth thinking, and exclusion of extra-occupational perspectives has intensified in a recessionary job market. Lawyer training exemplifies how we have “fractured our educational system into its scientific and its humanistic aspects, as though these were somehow independent of each other.”[7] Such specialization obscures total views, so that “we have trouble understanding the world as an integrated community in which the well-being of the parts depends on the well-being of the whole.”[8] Adhering to such a narrow, parochial mindset is especially troubling when considering the deepening ecological crisis, in which lawyers, as the acknowledged “architects and defenders of property rights,” are indispensable actors.[9]

Contemporary legal education prioritizes the development of skilled technicians, prepared to apply allegedly agenda- and bias-free solutions to complex problems. It also fosters a crisis-impervious mindset; zealous pursuit of client representation, not greater social concerns, characterizes the educational ethic. Law schools provide a Turner Classic Movies perspective for a Discovery Channel world, adhering to timeworn scientifically and ethically-discredited precepts despite their self-evident ecological inapplicability. Legal education “repeats an ancient curriculum developed for nineteenth century lawyers to meet nineteenth century concerns and contexts,” and fails to “challenge the categories or to question the underlying worldviews reflected in that century-old system.”[10] As ecological concerns rested outside the purview of nineteenth century lawyers, so today environmental law remains largely on the curricular periphery, even as climate peril appears less and less an “elective” subject. Law graduates, unaware of critical ecological understandings, nonetheless develop an enhanced esteem for property. Environmentalists assert that “[w]e have built an entire legal system—the entire legal system of the United States, with a few footnotes and exceptions, with the exceptions in the footnotes—on property rights.”[11]

This Article will examine how the core and shadow legal curricula each impart ecologically-harmful memes, which in turn mire lawyers deeper in complicity with the ongoing global assault on the environment. These memes include a resistance to incorporating modern eco-scientific understandings; a faux-historical analysis of the roots of American jurisprudence, particularly in regard to property rights; implicit encouragement of an amoral, materialistic careerism; and the concomitant transmission of a truncated, self-serving sense of ethical responsibility.

II. Inclusionary Ecological Science Meets Exclusionary Property Education

By defining land as a commodity, the dominant legal philosophies legitimi[z]e and facilitate our exploitative relations with Earth.[12]

Legal education analyzes property wholly within the context of a discredited physical science paradigm, which employs antedated anthropocentric models in increasingly fruitless attempts to explicate a moving target, the dynamic ecosphere. Ecological science reveals that “the Earth is so integral in the unity of its functioning that every aspect . . . is affected by what happens to any component member of the community.”[13] The late eco-theologian Thomas Berry noted how these emerging ecological insights illustrate that “[n]othing bestows existence on itself. Nothing survives by itself. Nothing is fulfilled in itself. Nothing has existence or meaning or fulfillment except [within] . . . the larger community of existence.”[14] James Lovelock’s “Gaia theory” posits that “[t]he Earth System behaves as a single, self-regulating system comprised of physical, chemical, biological and human components.”[15] Contemporary science “has radically altered its view of the arrangement both of life and of nonliving components of the [E]arth,” constructing a new paradigm “that place[s] relationship at the center.”[16] Disdaining acknowledgment of this seminal concept of interconnection, property education adheres to an eclipsed worldview, which frustrates assimilation and understanding of ecological holism; it excludes rather than includes. This intransigence stymies environmental reform, highlighting how “laws and legal systems are primarily individualistic in tone, hence their resistance to a holistic ecosystem approach.”[17]

Ecologists claim that this resistance to holistic thinking stems from an “arrogant and obsessively anthropocentric worldview” which is nowhere “more apparent than in law.”[18] Legal education’s reluctance to assimilate the emergent eco-scientific paradigm reflects how “few of the people who make most of the decisions that affect the relationship between humans and other aspects of the Earth Community have made the shift from a mechanistic worldview to a holistic or ecological worldview.”[19] Uncomprehending or unappreciative of this transformative reorientation, lawyers instead proffer zealous representation to those corporate entities[20]—the very engines of ecological destruction—who fiercely resist this understanding. Legal property education’s intense focus on individual parts and parcels greatly disserves the development of systemic awareness, of how all these combative land use issues exemplify developers’ determination to impose short-term, market-driven deadlines on natural systems which operate on millennial rather than quarterly-profit timetables.

Although property education examines land disbursement schemes from medieval to present times, there is no corresponding analysis of natural systems’ progression.[21] Each case concludes with its legal resolution, foregoing discussion of any potentially significant ecological impacts. This is a troubling omission, given that “[i]n the domain of atmosphere and climate the delay between cause and effect can be thirty years.”[22] Law students immersed in a history and tradition-hallowing curriculum are not appreciative of how “[t]he slow, inexorable pace of ecological and climatic cycles and lag times bear no relation to the hasty cycles and lag times of human attention, decision, and action.”[23] Legal education remains obeisant to the capitalist use-development paradigm, in which “[o]ur economic models are projections and arrows when they should be circles.”[24] The trajectory of legal education culminates in the bar exam and job hunting; the stressful academic regimen parallels the ever more frenetic pace of the larger society, where even the alarmingly present melting of the polar ice caps is deemed too distant and speculative for contemporary comprehension.[25] As futurist Lester Brown observes, “We are crossing natural thresholds that we cannot see and violating deadlines that we do not recognize. Nature is the time keeper, but we cannot see the clock.”[26] Property education facilitates linear analysis of a cyclical subject—nature—in which “changes happen rapidly and reflect past, not present, actions.”[27]

A. Balking Antiques: How Originalism Thwarts Ecological Holism

I’m not a policy person. I’m a language person.[28]

Law students are introduced to judicial philosophies that essentially enshrine or venerate historical epochs while steadfastly resisting introduction of scientific advances or extra-legal ethical movements. Constitutional law classes provide cursory overviews of originalism and textualism, and do not alert students to the outsize influence of these interpretive tools in conservative judicial analysis, particularly in the realm of property rights issues. Originalism effectively mires legal analysis in a pre-industrial paradigm, precluding the application of contemporary “principles of ecological connectedness and carrying capacity in the definition of property norms, rights, and obligations.”[29] Environmental ethicist James Garvey notes that “[o]ur values grew up in a low-tech, disconnected world of plenty. Now, cumulative and apparently innocent acts can have consequences undreamt of by our forebears.”[30] Originalist property analyses omit the requisite ecological context—“When capitalism started, nature was abundant and capital was scarce; it thus made sense to reward capital above all else. Today we’re awash in capital and literally running out of nature.”[31] The Founders’ assumptions about land reflected an unchallenged anthropocentric perspective, so that nature, particularly nature-as-wilderness, remained confined within use-value parameters, without regard for its (then unrecognized) vital contributions to planetary health. Originalism redirects philosophical analysis of environmental concerns to a period prior to its scientific explication and comprehension.[32] This stratagem somewhat cynically facilitates subsequent assertions that ecological values were never contemplated—if not dismissed—by the Founders.

The prevailing property paradigm “was invented when the American continent seemed empty,” and “envisions not only that the economy can grow forever, but also that the total scale of legally-justified damage to the Earth can grow forever as well.”[33] Originalism’s pursuit of the Founders’ intentions sidesteps essential contextualization; their world was one of seemingly unlimited “virgin” land and “inexhaustible” natural resources,[34] which is why the Constitution does not offer express language on property rights and usage. As the Founders anticipated the dynamic of settlement in and improvement of what they deemed (value-free) wilderness, their outlook was necessarily open-ended, relying on (what they believed would be far-distant) future generations to address changes in circumstances.

Property rights proponents, however, claim their tenets both pre-date the Constitution and also implicitly resonate within it. However, these contentions frequently betray a greater debt to contemporary use-and-development rationalizations than to the Founders’ intentions, more likely “originating” in the Federalist Society than in the Federalist Papers. The Constitution’s drafters understood that government necessarily pre-dated any lawfully enforceable, commonly recognized concept of property, and accordingly drew upon their knowledge of developed, malleable English land ownership practices.[35] Strict textualist analyses thus more often contravene, rather than honor, the Founders’ foresight. Obdurate faux-originalism comprises an indispensable element of pro-development campaigns to resist much-needed environmental remedies given a vastly transformed landscape. This is truly disturbing given how “[w]e interfere a million times more deeply in nature than we did one hundred years ago, and our ignorance is increasing in proportion to the information that is required.”[36] Textualist defenses of property similarly contravene the new ecological paradigm, as:

[T]he language of physical theory [has] changed and our conception of reality changed with it. Unfortunately, the languages of our social, political, and economic theories have endured despite achieving mature formulation before widespread industrialization, . . . the explosion of scientific knowledge, and globalization of economies . . . [which] altered our social life without altering theories about our social life.[37]

Trying to shepherd analysis of implosive ecological changes into the confines of pre-industrial worldviews emphasizes how “the vocabulary and expressions that are available to us influence and even steer our thought.”[38] Property discussions take place within the “language of liberalism,” which “excludes an alternative vocabulary that enables us to consider the central concerns of environmentalists.”[39] An ecologist contends that “[o]ur entire language is permeated by historically charged euphemisms that acquire a reified life of their own,” which serve to “assimilate the past to the present and in the very pretence of illuminating the past, they cunningly conceal it from our eyes.”[40] This shows how “[o]ur civilization is masterful at twisting even our richest words to make them into slogans for a commodity-based reality. Our language and our habits of speech have coevolved with a violent relation to the world for so many generations . . . [and] one does not step out of them very easily.”[41] The George W. Bush Administration’s double-speaking, anti-environmental policies bore such Luntzian appellations as “Clear Skies” and “Healthy Forests,” or what has been characterized as “Orwellian language for unconscionable violence.”[42] Ecologists conclude that “[l]anguage becomes so perfectly attuned to the agendas of the powerful that the concepts and connotations with which resistance could be formulated are eliminated, making protest appear irrational and naïve.”[43]

Textualism frustrates the pursuit of environmental reforms under the guise of impartial refereeing, with the language—rather than the interpreter’s ideology—providing answers. But professionally-specialized vocabularies “are never neutral. Things that are included in a vocabulary gain a familiar reality; things that are left out are ignored or even have their existence denied.”[44] Additionally, “[t]his betrayal by language is crassly ideological,” exclusionary-minded, and demonstrates how intra-disciplinary terminologies “serve only to separate the sectarians of the parish from those who are excluded from the conversation.”[45] Textualist semantics repel efforts to incorporate ecological understandings into property law, for “[i]f a ‘right’ cannot be conceived of and described in the language of law, our governance systems will not recogni[z]e it or give adequate weight to it when making decisions.”[46] Further, ecologists argue that courts “define our concerns in economic terms and predetermine the range of possible responses. Often we cannot even raise the issues important to us because the economic language of others excludes our issues from the discussion.”[47] They believe that “[w]e need an Earth-centered language. . . . [W]ords need to be extended to include the various beings of the natural world, their freedoms, their rights, their share in the functioning of the Earth.”[48] Textualist bona fides of impartiality fail to conceal how “[e]very vocabulary shapes the world to fit a paradigm,”[49] and that language-parsing defenses of expansive land-use rights underpin a scientifically and ethically-discredited property paradigm.[50]

B. Reified Property

We know more about property lines than we do about the life that moves under, over, and through them.[51]

Property rights ideology serves as a philosophical bulwark and rallying point for those resisting the holistic, communitarian message of environmentalism. Along with property’s formidable cultural symbolism, land use maximalism also harnesses the energies of powerful corporate entities—and their legal counsel. The failure to enact broad-reaching environmental legislation since the 1970s has emboldened those who regard every element of the Earth Community as a “natural resource” indistinguishable from any other market commodity, and subject to the same (too often literal) slash-and-burn whims. Fervent property rights proponents, in extractive industry/developer-financed think tanks and faux-populist groups, demonize environmentalism as “eco-socialism” for resisting the commoditization of nature.[52] The gross disparity in legal resources between these forces and environmentalists dramatizes the difficulties the latter face in trying to halt the assault on natural systems, as land use debates are characterized by “[e]xploitation of the concept of private property that goes outward, destructively, like a ripple of water moving through rock.”[53]

The ubiquity of aggressive property rights rhetoric suggests that it has resonated with anxious, hard-pressed homeowners, to the detriment of crisis-confronting ecological messages. “Ownership Society” ideology fails to consider that “[w]hen landowners physically alter their lands, they don’t act only for themselves,” but for present and future human and non-human life, “given the ways land parcels are interconnected ecologically and economically.”[54] Interconnection, the sine qua non of the emerging ecological paradigm, is equally disserved by pro-development dissembling and legal education’s emphasis on parts and parcels, rather than systems and wholes. Failure to acknowledge relational-minded ecology deprives students of the critical understanding that “most private property is connected with other private (and public) property globally through the atmosphere and regionally via water flows and the movements of animals, plants, and microorganisms. To one degree or another, what happens on private property is everyone’s business.”[55]

This understanding has also been disserved by decisions such as Lucas v. South Carolina Coastal Council[56] in 1992, which dramatized Supreme Court conservatives’ disdain for incorporating core ecological precepts into property law determinations.[57] Environmentalists found Lucas especially foreboding “because it seemed to accept too easily the precept that the economically profitable exploitation of a natural resource is somehow constitutionally guaranteed or at least preferable.”[58] Subsequent High Court land use rulings “set[] up property owners to view environmental laws not as a legitimate democratic expression of the proper structure of property rights in our current circumstances, but as invasions of their rights.”[59]

Takings controversies also typify how contemporary, ideologically-driven memes take root to the detriment of holistic, countervailing legal-ecological perspectives. Takings, “where the conflict between individual and holistic considerations is most evident,” has become the philosophical blade’s edge for aggressive anti-regulatory campaigns.[60] It has assumed totemic status for property rights ideologues, even as critical legal analyses dispel myths and misperceptions surrounding its ascendancy. The anti-regulatory animus of takings argumentation unmasks the abiding conservative fealty to “market fundamentalism,” or “the belief that there is no reasonable alternative to a virtually unregulated market,” one in which “governments should do nothing other than define property rights and enforce contracts.”[61] The astonishing tenacity of this argument, as market forces further melt, erode, and poison the earth, highlights how “[c]apitalism as an ethical system has succeeded in convincing the people living under it that it is not a system at all but a state of nature.”[62]

Legal property instruction epitomizes an educational system in which “we are brought up believing that capitalist market relations are more natural, more incontrovertible, than anything within nature.”[63] The absence of any market-critical perspectives produces lawyers who zealously represent those pursuing innately ecologically-destructive practices, as markets’ “purely human-centered value” discourages concern for natural areas which “have little or no market value, even when their true value to society is vast.”[64] Case-analysis instruction’s intense focus on the minutiae of land disputes fosters narrowly compartmentalized, as opposed to panoramic, holistic understandings of land use.

Market fundamentalism also incorporates a flawed anti-ecological analysis drawn from Garrett Hardin’s 1968 essay The Tragedy of the Commons.[65] Hardin postulated that inevitable overuse by one or more contributors rendered the commons concept unsustainable.[66] Property rights proponents seized upon his analysis (bereft of “any experimental or observed evidence”) as confirming their assertion that only unburdened private ownership could forestall environmental peril.[67] Their pro-development, anti-regulatory message thereby acquired an Earth-friendly gloss, as they proclaimed that individual property owners, not naturalists, biologists, or scientists, were best equipped to recommend land use policy, and concluded that “there is no standard independent of the desires of the owners of property to judge what should be conserved.”[68]

Ecologists respond by noting that “Hardin’s premise depends on absolute egoism and denies several millennia of experience in the mutuality and negotiation of commoning.”[69] Commons were not a “license to free-for-all,” as Hardin ignored how “healthy self-governing commons systems are frequent in the world and in history.”[70] Commons thrived in cultures that protected them from outside pressures, suggesting how Hardin’s argumentation applies only to those societies “operating under capitalist social relations, where land and resources are privately held and exploited for individual gain.[71] Those seeking “to affix the word ‘tragedy’ to the commons” should acknowledge that “the nightmare did not begin with the creation of the commons, but with the process of its destruction, the process under which it was taken under private ownership” via enclosure.[72] Property rights ideologues disparage the pre-modern commons paradigm because it “involves other people putting limits on what resources you can exploit, how much you can accumulate, how things will be shared. The free market has none of those constraints.”[73] Legal property instruction rarely addresses the equities involved in private versus public ownership,[74] instead channeling discussion into those options available in a hyper-individualistic market economy, in which “[w]hat counts as a saleable commodity is not its ultimate usefulness to humanity but how much money can be made from selling it.”[75] As a result, law students assimilate a perspective in which “[n]ature as a network of biotic communities disappears . . . and becomes visible only as bits and pieces of it are brought to the marketplace for sale.”[76]

Property education evades critical discussion of public equities in favor of focusing on individualistic “dividend ecology” land use, reconfiguring natural entities into stock offerings.[77] Fragmentation serves as both the start and terminus of a truly unnatural property paradigm in which “[p]arts of ecosystems are plucked like fruits to be transformed into commodities, parts are used as sewers, and parts are invisible because they are not given value by the human participants in markets.”[78] This destructive process flourishes in no small part because most lawyers “do not know enough about natural regulatory systems, and in any case do not believe that they are relevant to humans.”[79]

As case-analysis-structured property education often does little more than examine isolated micro-controversies, it also implicitly suggests that individualistic, rights-justified behavior trumps ecological wellbeing. This contravenes the critical understanding that “[m]aintaining the integrity of ecological systems requires consideration of scales that are greater than individual landowners or individual tracts of land.”[80] The ideological offensive to literally or figuratively “black-letter” property rights must inevitably surrender to nature’s systemic requirements as “[a]ll private property depends on Nature’s infrastructure. When that infrastructure collapses, it causes natural disasters that make property boundaries irrelevant.”[81]

Absent a more inclusive, equities-examining, future-observant analysis of property, students instead assimilate the use-value perspective, rooting discussion entirely within market-deferential confines. Omission of ecological viewpoints produces lawyers who therefore “lack the language that would enable them to name the nonmonetized knowledge, activities, and relationships in their own communities,” able to identify a Springing Executory Interest but none of the natural harbingers of spring.[82] This follows poet-naturalist Gary Snyder’s comment that “attention to the observable order of nature is rarely practiced by those who think that wealth is purely a creation of human organization, labor, or ingenuity.”[83] Law schools too often focus on developing cog-fillers for the “Total Economy,” where “everything—‘life forms’ . . . or the ‘right to pollute’—is ‘private property’ and has a price and is for sale.”[84]

If lawyers, as architects and defenders of property rights, want to dispel similar priced-and-available-for-sale insinuations, legal education must incorporate ecological understandings and, at the very least, deign to discuss the equities in the privatization-versus-commons debate. For law students to attain ecological literacy, they “must learn to think about the ecosphere in terms of interconnectedness, context and process—the basic principles of all living systems.”[85] As Professor David Orr observes, “All education is environmental education. By what is included or excluded, students are taught that they are part of or apart from the natural world.”[86] Berry concludes that “educational institutions need to understand that ecology is not a course nor a program. Rather, it is the foundation of all courses, all programs, and all professions . . . .”[87]

III. Legal Education: Elusive Ethics in the Crass Need Game

One has every right in our time to develop suspicions about those who wear suits and ties.[88]

The manifold pressures involved in training students to “think like a lawyer” more likely erode rather than encourage extralegal ethical understandings, as the bar exam, not personal/cultural transformation, remains the paramount concern. Students as well as faculty propel the “relentless focus” classes place “on the procedural and formal qualities of legal thinking,” a fixation that “is sometimes to the deliberate exclusion of the moral and social dimensions.”[89] The result is that too many students learn the law “from too insular a perspective. Despite growing recognition of the importance of cross-cultural and cross-disciplinary perspectives, the core curriculum stubbornly resists intruders.”[90] Legal instruction exhibits American universities’ “failure to educate people to think broadly, to perceive systems and patterns, and to live as whole persons.”[91] A legal curriculum critic suggests that “[e]ducational priorities are apparent in subtexts as well as texts. What the core curriculum leaves unsaid sends a powerful message that no single required course can counteract.”[92]

Property education’s evasion of ecological themes betrays an abiding professional mission to develop resolute tacticians unencumbered with equity-rooted sympathies or inclinations. Contemplation of overriding justice concerns suffers dismissal as fuzzy idealism, detrimental to client-focused training. If, as E. F. Schumacher claimed, “[e]ducation cannot help us as long as it accords no place to metaphysics,”[93] it is no wonder that lawyers are often regarded as lacking in what George H.W. Bush termed “The Vision Thing.”[94] Ecologists note how technically-proficient, but values-deficient, education “fragments instead of unifies, overemphasizes success and careers, separates feeling from intellect and the practical from the theoretical, and unleashes on the world minds ignorant of their own ignorance.”[95] Law schools turn out lawyers who lack rudimentary knowledge of environmental processes, relegating nature to the oversight of zealous partisans exemplifying what D.H. Lawrence characterized as the “know-it-all state of mind.”[96] Legal education prioritizes tactical-adversarial skills as opposed to empathetic-cooperative knowledge, prompting criticism that “a distinction needs to be made between intelligence and cleverness,” as the former aims for “wholeness,” while the latter remains “personified by the functionally rational technician armed with know-how and methods but without a clue about the higher ends technique should serve.”[97]

The law school milieu also frustrates the development of ecologically-cognizant consumer consciousness through implicit endorsement of the lifestyle rewards awaiting those who embrace conventional careerism. Aspirations for stakeholder/partnership status intertwine with pursuit of the appropriate material accoutrements of such attainment.[98] Students awaiting on-campus interviews, previously dissuaded from confronting larger equitable considerations, remain warily reluctant to too-closely scrutinize the underlying values and goals of their prospective employers.[99] Even then, idealization of corporatized large firm employment means that on-campus interviewers may represent those most able architects and determined defenders of an ecologically-destructive status quo.[100] Students who shun this process for public interest or other less-remunerative positions suffer a patronization akin to scratch lottery players in a room full of Powerball winners.

This enduring tendency to prioritize pecuniary over planetary concerns illustrates “the increased commercialism and competitiveness of legal practice and the absence of a widely shared vision of the public interest.”[101] It reflects the profession’s embrace of the reigning corporate style, and the values underlying it. Once graduates leave the rope-line and enter the club, they need to adjust their priorities—and personas—to better fit in an environment every bit as pressured as the one they left. Contemporary lawyers discover that “upscale business entertaining calls for upscale dining and clothing, upscale housing invites upscale furnishings, and all require upscale incomes.”[102] Less pretentious, lower ecological-footprint choices present obstacles to career viability; for example “[a]n attorney who might prefer to keep driving her battered old Dodge knows she would be sending a subliminal signal to potential clients that [she is] not likely to win their cases.”[103]

Retaining the clunker is nearly incomprehensible for those law graduates who are mesmerized by the “idealized vision of professional life,” in which they “can expect both moral independence and worldly rewards, such as power, wealth, and prominence.”[104] Yet when this dream dims, the consequences—reflected in the burgeoning ranks of practitioners entering intra-professional treatment programs for depression, substance abuse, and marital/relationship problems—are acute.[105] Whole Personhood has been discarded in pursuit of a chimerical professional ideal, and retrieval is a task beyond the capabilities of LEXIS or Westlaw. This abandonment reinforces philosopher Zygmunt Bauman’s assertion that entry to prestigious professions requires applicants “to recast themselves as commodities: that is, as products capable of catching the attention and attracting demand and customers.[106] For the 3L aspirant to the corporate legal kingdom, this requires attainment of “zero drag,”[107] or no out-of-work commitments, for who knows how these pursuits (from biking to trail-hiking to vegetarianism) might clash with prevailing shareholder norms. As Bauman states:

The ideal employee would be a person with no previous bonds, commitments or emotional attachments, and shunning new ones; a person ready to take on any task that comes by and prepared to instantly readjust and refocus their own inclinations, embracing new priorities and abandoning those previously acquired in short order.[108]

Those seeking to assuage a nagging sense of seller’s remorse can fall into a psychologically—and ecologically—destructive rut of compensating via consumption, as “[a]ttorneys working sweatshop hours feel entitled to goods and services that will make their lives easier and their leisure time more satisfying.”[109] But no amount of spending can overcome the “Cultural Autism” of sacrificing hour after billable hour of one’s youth at the expense of encountering a wider world, especially the world of nature.[110] Even though “the quality of exposure to nature affects our health at an almost cellular level,” the pale ranks of nascent architects and defenders of land use include those whose last prolonged exposure to sunlight was a weekend catnap in the firm’s atrium.[111] Funneling high achievers into a career path that effectively precludes contact with nature—while commending an unsustainable materialism—unsurprisingly produces young lawyers who remain oblivious of their day-to-day activities’ potential impact on environmental health. The unquestioning pursuit of professional success has spawned too many Captain Louis Renaults, who are shocked, shocked when confronted with their work’s complicity in ecological damage. In contrast to the idealized Atticus Finch, today’s lawyers exemplify those contemporary professionals who do not “know enough of the whole terrain to be dangerous to the established order. Narrowness, ‘methodolatry,’ and careerism have rendered many unfit and unwilling to ask large and searching questions.”[112]

Legal education reflects and reinforces hyper-individualism, the “cult of self [which] dominates our cultural landscape,” and is predicated on “the misguided belief that personal style and personal advancement, mistaken for individualism, are the same as democratic equality.”[113] Too many belatedly discover that chasing materially-defined rewards becomes “a psychologically frustrating and ecologically lethal mode of forming personal identity.”[114] Recognizing the ecologically- and psychologically-harmful effects of pursuing a careerist lifestyle comprises a necessary first step before recognizing that indispensable insights from extra-professional sources and disciplines, especially ecology, merit a place in any truly “ethical” lawyer’s understanding. It is high time for aspiring lawyers to remove their careerist blinders and open the window, for as environmental philosopher Holmes Rolston III has remarked, “The unexamined life is not worth living; life in an unexamined world is not worth[] living either. We miss too much of value.”[115]

IV. Expanding Ethics: Redefining Human-Earth Relations

If ethical considerations govern the relations between individuals and the community around them, why do we restrict our understanding of that community only to the human community?[116]

Amid mounting concerns that lawyers’ ethical values are not recognized—if not derided—by the public, analysis of the sub-textual messages of legal education is even more necessary. The ABA-sponsored Sullivan Report noted how “a number of studies have shown that students’ moral reasoning does not appear to develop to any significant degree during law school.”[117] It observed that “law school typically blares a set of salient, if unintentional, messages that undercut the likely success of efforts to make students more attentive to ethical matters.”[118] Despite professional proclamations of ethical rectitude, the sub-textual, shadow legal curriculum promotes skepticism toward any restriction placed upon the aggressive, unfettered pursuit of advantage in legal contests.[119] The steely-tactical, winner-take-all mindset law schools tacitly encourage plants the seeds for lawyers’ later difficulties in comprehending that ethics represent more than irksome, easily-circumvented technicalities.

Legal education too infrequently contemplates those greater social policies and values that lie beyond the case-analysis structure; the core curriculum remains a forced march through an overwhelming thicket of minutiae, with larger social concerns consigned to selective courses. Questioning is largely confined to formal and procedural concepts, and
any attempt to insert social or broader ethical concerns into discussion—whether by faculty or students—often results in resigned, fatigued
silence.[120] Students intuitively decide to “separate their sense of justice
and fairness from their understanding of the requirements of legal
procedure and doctrine,” concluding that “matters of justice are secondary to formal correctness.”[121]

Understanding of and appreciation for equitable considerations also suffer from the abiding perception that the required core ethics course presents a one-size-fits-all solution toward addressing lawyers’ social responsibility.[122] Yet ethical instruction’s sub-text often fosters a fraternal “nudge-nudge, wink-wink” attitude when encountering ineffectual formalities—“[w]hen legal ethics courses focus exclusively on teaching students what a lawyer can and cannot get away with, they can inadvertently convey a sense that knowing this is all there is to ethics.”[123] Students imbued with a shallow, somewhat cynical sense of professional ethics comprise an inauspicious audience for attempts to introduce an ecologically-responsible planetary ethic.

Another barrier to an expansive ethical sensibility is what has been characterized as “attorneys’ amoral advocacy—their willingness to defend causes and clients without regard to the ethical merits.”[124] The acknowledged pinnacle of professional success is to land a position with a top firm—regardless of their client list.[125] Instructed that their primary responsibility is “to defend, not judge, the client,” these achievers find that “good ethics and good business are in happy coincidence.”[126] Atticus Finch iconography assumes a (truly) rich irony in a field in which the commanding heights are occupied by those who zealously defend the corporate elite—or write the laws that fortify their preeminence. The reputed level playing field is readily refuted in examining the socio-economic-political clout of environmental transgressors against the resources of their opponents: globalized corporations versus tree-sitters, or oil and gas colossi versus the residents of bayou small towns. Persisting gross disparities in legal resources mock notions of an equal contest; instead, they accentuate how corporate “haves” are able to litigiously overwhelm attempts to redress glaring inequities. Ecologists consider this emblematic of “a deep cultural pathology . . . [which] is particularly pathetic when we bargain over these issues of life and survival for monetary gain or some commercial advantage for a few individuals or a corporative enterprise.”[127] Legal education must confront this pathology by addressing its equitable oversights, and in finally recognizing and incorporating contemporary Earth ethics.

A. Paradigm Shift: Green-Letter Ethics

A question we might well ponder: when human beings unilaterally declare their superiority to all other species, who do they think is paying attention?[128]

Legal education’s failure to acknowledge or incorporate fundamental eco-ethical considerations into the core curriculum exposes an antedated framework, in which vital new extra-curricular ideas are kept at arm’s length. In the case of property, this buttresses a pre-industrial, conquest-and-control concept of nature, which resists the introduction of modern, scientifically-supported concepts of land’s role in ecosystem health. As Berry notes, “To assume that conquest and use are our primary relations with the natural world is ultimate disaster not only for ourselves but also for the multitude of other living forms on the planet.”[129] As the acknowledged legislators of the world, lawyers must acknowledge the contemporary nature philosophies of ecologists, biologists, and climatologists in revamping a woefully archaic property paradigm that evades contemporary planetary realities. As ecologist John Rodman noted, “It is probably a safe maxim that there will be no revolution in ethics without a revolution in perception.”[130] An indispensable first step in this transformation lies in recognizing that “it is not possible to specify any reasonably clearly discernible, morally relevant characteristic that includes all humans but excludes all non-humans.”[131] Environmental ethicists conclude that “[t]here is no reasonable alternative to redrawing our moral boundaries to include all life.”[132] The history of
ethics chronicles an expansive incorporation of those formerly
marginalized on account of race, gender, or ancestry.[133] Responding to the
growing recognition of planetary interconnection requires further legal
protections for natural entities, which to this point have been denied a
“hearing”—and rights.

Property education’s reluctance to provide a broader ecological framework for discussion underlines the prevailing pedagogical focus on developing efficient, fact-processing crackpot realtors. This tendency also evinces an abiding suspicion of introducing metaphysically-tinged considerations, even though “[r]egarding nature as a community of purposive systems does not involve the surrender of reason nor any leap into ‘mysticism.’”[134] Reluctance to introduce ecological equities may lie in their potential to topple the obsolescent, constricted notion of ethics propounded in legal education. It is past time for legal education to acknowledge that a “new ecological paradigm implies a correspondingly ecologically oriented ethics.”[135]

Expanding the role of ethics will first require uprooting the pervasive anthropocentrism characterizing the curriculum. In particular, incorporating discussion of interconnectedness necessitates broadening the field of actors implicated in legal analysis, for “[r]ecognizing the interdependence of only those humans who are able to resolve conflicts by bargaining with each other is not the same as recognizing the pre-contractual, natural interdependence of all components of land communities.”[136] Rolston argues that “[t]here is something Newtonian, not yet Einsteinian, besides something morally naïve, about living in a reference frame where one species takes itself as absolute and values everything else relative to its utility.”[137] If an expanded ethical framework “requires a paradigm change about the sorts of things to which duty can attach,” he adds, “so much the worse for those ethics no longer functioning in, nor suited to, their changing environment. The anthropocentrism associated with them was fiction anyway.”[138] As another critic asks, “Why totalize an instrumental image of nature developed under historically contingent circumstances?”[139]

Ridding the curriculum of discredited anthropocentric biases presents a formidable undertaking. Yet the contemporary legal system cannot evade its complicity in the contention that the environmental crisis “is the consequence of putting human rights before human obligations to the Earth and all the other life forms we share it with.”[140] Gaian theory places humankind within a parliament of species, not enshrined above all others, heedless of their concerns, as it “makes clear that we have no special human rights; we are merely one of the partner species in the great enterprise of Gaia.”[141] As Berry commented, “The ecological community is not subordinate to the human community. Nor is the ecological imperative derivative from human ethics. Rather, our human ethics is derivative of the ecological imperative . . . [which is] the well-being of the comprehensive community . . . .”[142]

B. Expanded Standing: A Stone Left Unturned?

A few such elms would alone constitute a township. They might claim to send a representative to the General Court to look after their interests.[143]

Professor Christopher Stone’s path-breaking book, Should Trees Have Standing?,[144] provides a starting point for discussions of expanding legal-environmental ethical parameters. Proposing that non-human members of the comprehensive community be recognized as legal rights-holders, Stone acknowledged the great naturalist Aldo Leopold’s hope that expanded ethics would be an inevitable consequence of ecological evolution.[145] In this paradigm, nature would possess legally actionable rights unrelated to its value to or use by humans.[146] Stone’s analysis points toward a new legal-ethical consensus in which “humankind is no longer the sole yardstick against which the utility of environmental protection must be measured,” as nature assumes rights-bearing status and “is entitled to a certain amount of integrity independent of human interest.”[147] For Berry, this consensus should embody the principle that “every being has three basic rights: the
right to be, the right to habitat, and the right to fulfill its role in the great
community of existence.”[148]

Unfortunately, Stone’s proposal has achieved only “meager precedent” comprising “less than meets the eye.”[149] Its marginalization reflects the ideological ascendancy of property rights and conservative judicial intransigence against considering ecologically-derived land use philosophies. Each tendency thrives in the absence of legal curriculum’s failure to provide any environmentally-cognizant perspectives for analyzing property and its necessary equitable and ecological considerations. This omission is emblematic of a legal structure in which “[w]ith few exceptions, the most dangerous and harmful acts of human beings, those that kill or threaten to exterminate other forms of life or even the life-support systems of Earth, are not even recognized as crimes.”[150] This demonstrates the dire need for legal education to extend the parameters of ethics, discussed within a planetary context rather than solely an occupational context.

V. Green-Lettering Law

[F]alse reification of the self is basic to the planetary ecological crisis in which we find ourselves.[151]

Few labels are as dreaded in academia, particularly in professional education, as that of “popularizer,” that is, someone with the effrontery to incorporate multi-disciplinary influences and seek to connect with a broad, non-specialist audience. Intra-disciplinary journals, often incomprehensible to even the most educated layperson, operate in a fusty, hermetic sphere which “thwarts universal understanding . . . [and] keeps the uninitiated from asking unpleasant questions.”[152] The enormity of the environmental crisis requires abandoning the dubious high ground of insular professionalism, as “education that examines the cultural disconnect and what is happening to the natural world is precisely what is most needed today.”[153] Legal education must confront transformative changes in ethical understanding and revamp an archaic 19th-century curriculum by incorporating 21st-century realities. Disciplinary retreats into “core curriculum” redoubts—designed in-and-for a vanished world and its anti-natural paradigm—greatly disserve both students and the society in which they will wield outsize influence. Curricular originalism “allows students and faculty to retreat into these self-imposed fiefdoms and neglect the most pressing moral, political, and cultural questions.”[154]

Why should legal education undertake this transformation? Is not its role more properly to prepare technicians-tacticians, rather than (those frequently mocked) “Big Picture” thinkers? Starting with legally counseled developers, extractors, and agribusinesses, moving on to lawyer-dominated local, state, and national governmental bodies and agencies, and concluding with lawyers’ socio-cultural ubiquity, the profession cannot evade responsibility for its indispensable environmental role. Confronting escalating ecological peril cannot be delegated to environmental law practitioners alone; the entire profession needs to reexamine its role in the part-and-parceling of the planet, for as Stone asserts, “[T]he law has not merely an educative, but a spiritualizing role in our society.”[155] Garvey adds that “[t]here is viciousness in refusing to act unless others do too. It is nothing less than ignoring the moral demands on us while simultaneously trying to place moral demands on others.”[156] Accordingly, a legal critic notes, “If lawyers see themselves as officers of justice, they must accept greater obligations to pursue justice.”[157] Lawyers’ duty of zealous representation does not absolve them from broader societal ethics and norms, but instead obligates them to be more rather than less aware of the possibly far-reaching effects of their counsel. Professor Deborah Rhode has proposed granting legal professionals a greater range of freedom of conscience, “where the ethical stakes are substantial, lawyers have an obligation to refuse assistance whatever the other consequences. We do not normally absolve individuals of moral responsibility on the ground that their successor could be worse.”[158]

The core legal curriculum needs to incorporate ecological understandings, which does not necessitate requiring environmental law courses so much as expanding the parameters of ecologically-pertinent discussion and analysis in the existing framework; not to retrofit but rather to reinvigorate. Ethics, presented without reference to earth ethics, and property, offered within an 18th-century paradigm, evince disregard, if not disrespect, for the most critical issue facing humankind. Necessary contextualization can be provided without derailing the priority of practice preparation; reexamination of the curriculum’s sub-textual messages will simply result in more ecologically-conscious practitioners, and fewer amoral tacticians. Law schools must help construct “ethical frameworks that lead us to question and examine the results of our teaching and research on the natural and human communities of which we are a part . . . [and] must be not only of the world but in it.”[159] This task cannot be delegated to specialists, for “[h]ad environmental law worked, we would not have an ecological crisis.”[160]

In the end, the legal education process must reexamine what values are implicitly transmitted, and how they operate to the benefit or detriment of the greater society. As Schumacher observed, “Education which fails to clarify our central convictions is mere training or indulgence.”[161] The intensifying bottom-line-oriented pressures confronting practitioners might account for the growing number of those who are now disillusioned with their craft. So also might be the profession’s—and legal education’s—greater failure to inspire a greater sense of identification with the “outside” world, particularly the world found in nature. The late eco-philosopher Arne Naess’s concept of the ecological self offers a promising alternative path.[162] Defining the self as “that with which this person identifies,” Naess suggested that it could be “as comprehensive as the totality of our identifications,” supplanting conventionally-defined (career, status) identities in favor of more ecologically-expansive ones (other species, natural systems).[163] This process “enlarges our temporal context, freeing us from identifying our goals and rewards solely in terms of our present lifetime.”[164] Naess’s Deep Ecology, or “ecosophy,” proposes that “there is an identity between the human self, properly understood, and the natural world. To destroy it is to destroy ourselves.”[165] Legal education needs to reexamine and reevaluate what sort of identifications it implicitly encourages—and discourages. Ultra-competitiveness and the laurels awarded to those who attain the (market-defined) commanding heights of the profession subvert otherwise indispensable life-lessons. As Stone cautioned:

If we only stop for a moment and look at the underlying human qualities that our present attitudes toward property and nature draw upon and reinforce, we have to be struck by how stultifying of our own personal growth and satisfaction they can become when they take rein of us.[166]

Naess’s concept “refers to self-realization in the sense that one’s own self-realization is intimately bound up with the self-realization of others rather than to self-realization in an egoic, narrowly self-centered, or ‘ego-trip’ sense.”[167] Legal education, unfortunately, has invested in developing the latter, rather than the former state of awareness. The ecological costs overshadow those experienced by practitioners who find themselves confronting mounting occupational frustration and materialist malaise. New ecological insights emerge with increasing frequency, but legal education has yet to acknowledge the paradigm-transforming foundation upon which these findings build. As the Dalai Lama observes, “It has become an urgent necessity to ethically reexamine what we have inherited, what we are responsible for, and what we will pass on to coming generations. We ourselves are the pivotal human generation.”[168]

 



* Don Ellinghausen, Jr., is a Michigan attorney and educator. He gratefully acknowledges the writings of Henry David Thoreau, Gary Snyder, and Jim Harrison for providing inspiration and guidance when lighting out to see the territory.

[1] Renee Lertzman, Down to Business: Paul Hawken on Reshaping the Economy, in Mindfulness in the Marketplace: Compassionate Responses to Consumerism 185, 191 (Allan Hunt Badiner ed., 2002).

[2] See James L. Huffman, The Past and Future of Environmental Law, 30 Envtl. L. 23, 28 (2000) (noting that environmental law has moved from a boutique practice area to “a core course in every respectable law school”).

[3] See Jacob Vos, Note, Actions Speak Louder Than Words: Greenwashing in Corporate America, 23 Notre Dame J.L. Ethics & Pub. Pol’y 673, 673–75 (2009) (highlighting the recent emergence and pervasiveness of “greenwashing” among American corporations, as well as the relatively minimal changes often made as a result of these campaigns); John Stanley & David Loy, A Buddhist Perspective on Ecological Responsibility, Huffington Post, June 15, 2011, http://www.huffingtonpost.com/john-stanley/a-buddhist-perspective-on_b_874829.html (last visited July 16, 2011) (contending that the “corporatocracy” is propelling the planet toward imminent ecological disaster); Clive Hamilton, Requiem for a Species: Why We Resist the Truth About Climate Change 1 (2010) (“[W]ith each advance in climate science, the news keeps getting worse.”); Brendan DeMelle, Greenpeace Unmasks Koch Industries’ Funding of Climate Denial Industry, Huffington Post, Mar. 30, 2010, http://www.huffingtonpost.com/brendan-demelle/
greenpeace-unmasks-koch-i_b_518036.html (last visited July 16, 2011) (emphasizing the large amounts of corporate money spent on climate denial campaigns).

[4] Thomas Berry, The Great Work: Our Way Into the Future 113 (2000).

[5] Cormac Cullinan, Wild Law: A Manifesto for Earth Justice 67 (2003).

[6] Thomas Berry, The Sacred Universe: Earth, Spirituality, and Religion in the Twenty-First Century 144 (Mary Evelyn Tucker ed., 2009).

[7] Brian Swimme & Thomas Berry, The Universe Story: From the Primordial Flaring Forth to the Ecozoic Era—A Celebration of the Unfolding of the Cosmos 1 (HarperCollins paperback ed. 1994).

[8] Eric T. Freyfogle, The Land We Share: Private Property and the Common Good 252 (2003).

[9] Peter Barnes, Capitalism 3.0: A Guide to Reclaiming the Commons 160 (2006).

[10] Leslie Bender, Hidden Messages in the Required First-Year Law School Curriculum, 40 Clev. St. L. Rev. 387, 393 (1992).

[11] Interview of Carolyn Raffensperger by Derrick Jensen (Apr. 20, 2002), in How Shall I Live My Life?: On Liberating the Earth from Civilization 141, 171 (Theresa Noll ed., 2008).

[12] Cullinan, supra note 5, at 165.

[13] Swimme & Berry, supra note 7, at 243.

[14] Berry, supra note 6, at 138.

[15] James Lovelock, The Revenge of Gaia: Earth’s Climate in Crisis and the Fate of Humanity 25 (2007) (quoting Earth System Science Partnership, The Amsterdam Declaration, http://www.essp.org/index.php?id=41 (last visited July 16, 2011)).

[16] Peter G. Brown et al., Right Relationship: Building a Whole Earth Economy 1–2 (2009).

[17] Laura Westra, An Environmental Proposal for Ethics: The Principle of Integrity 33 (1994).

[18] Cullinan, supra note 5, at 66–67.

[19] Id. at 63–64.

[20] See Berry, supra note 4, at 113 (advocating that an essential reorientation to ecological understanding is required in all professions, and noting how the legal field has largely avoided this transition, thus increasingly reflecting a pro-corporate bias).

[21] See generally Bender, supra note 10, at 392–93 (explaining the emphasis law school curriculum, including property law courses, places on understanding doctrines established centuries ago, rather than on establishing creative solutions to present-day problems).

[22] Stewart Brand, The Clock of the Long Now: Time and Responsibility 9 (1999).

[23] Id. at 133.

[24] Wade Davis, The Wayfinders: Why Ancient Wisdom Matters in the Modern World 217 (2009).

[25] See Kurt Campbell, Avoiding Climate Change: Why Americans Prevaricate and Delay on Taking Action, N.Y. Times (Nov. 13, 2007, 10:18 AM), http://kristof.blogs.nytimes.com/2007/11/13/ (highlighting the American public’s lack of urgency in taking climate change action because of the perception that action can be deferred until the future); Matthieu Ricard, The Future Doesn’t Hurt . . . Yet, in A Buddhist Response to the Climate Emergency 202, 204 (John Stanley et al. eds., 2009) (“People usually only consider changing their way of living when they are forced to do so by circumstances, not by rational and altruistic thinking.”); Derrick Jensen & Aric McBay, What We Leave Behind 273 (2009) (commenting on how America “has enshrined short attention spans in its economic system” while offering the public a choice between “a living planet forever, or cheap consumables now”); Hamilton, supra note 3, at 95–133 (discussing cognitive dissonance in regard to our persisting psychological evasion of environmental realities).

[26] John Bellamy Foster, The Ecological Revolution: Making Peace with the Planet 56 (2009) (quoting Lester R. Brown, Plan B 3.0: Mobilizing to Save Civilization 4 (2008)).

[27] Andrew McLaughlin, Regarding Nature: Industrialism and Deep Ecology 37 (1993).

[28] Deborah Solomon, The Wordsmith: Questions for Frank Luntz, N.Y. Times Magazine, May 24, 2009, at 17, available at http://www.nytimes.com/2009/05/24/magazine/24wwln-q4-t.html (quoting Frank Luntz).

[29] Lynda L. Butler, The Pathology of Property Norms: Living Within Nature’s Boundaries, 73 S. Cal. L. Rev. 927, 985 (2000).

[30] James Garvey, The Ethics of Climate Change: Right and Wrong in a Warming World 59 (2008).

[31] Barnes, supra note 9, at xiii.

[32] See Bret Boyce, Originalism and the Fourteenth Amendment, 33 Wake Forest L. Rev. 909, 910 (1998); Environmental History Timeline, http://www.radford.edu/~wkovarik/envhist/ (last visited July 16, 2011).

[33] Joseph H. Guth, Law for the Ecological Age, 9 Vt. J. Envtl. L. 431, 435 (2008).

[34] See Saul Cornell, Originalism on Trial: The Use and Abuse of History in District of Columbia v. Heller, 69 Ohio St. L.J. 625, 626 (2008).

[35] See John G. Sprankling, The Antiwilderness Bias in American Property Law, 63 U. Chi. L. Rev. 519, 521 (1996).

[36] Stephan Bodian, Simple in Means, Rich in Ends: An Interview with Arne Naess, in Deep Ecology for the Twenty-First Century 26, 32 (George Sessions ed., 1995).

[37] Jack Turner, The Abstract Wild 54 (1996).

[38] Christopher D. Stone, Should Trees Have Standing?: Law, Morality, and the Environment 22 (3d ed. 2010).

[39] C.A. Bowers, Revitalizing the Commons or an Individualized Approach to Planetary Citizenship: The Choice Before Us, 36 Educ. Stud. 45, 54 (2004).

[40] Murray Bookchin, The Ecology of Freedom: The Emergence and Dissolution of Hierarchy 122 (2005).

[41] Interview of David Abram by Derrick Jensen (July 7, 2000), in How Shall I Live My Life?: On Liberating the Earth from Civilization, supra note 11, at 224.

[42] See Curtis White, The Barbaric Heart: Faith, Money, and the Crisis of Nature 34 (2009).

[43] Sulak Sivaraksa, The Wisdom of Sustainability: Buddhist Economics for the 21st Century 48 (Arnold Kotler & Nicholas Bennett eds., 2009).

[44] Ernest Callenbach, Ecology: A Pocket Guide 143 (1998).

[45] Bookchin, supra note 40, at 55; Michel Serres, The Natural Contract 8 (Elizabeth MacArthur & William Paulson trans., 1995).

[46] Cullinan, supra note 5, at 110.

[47] Turner, supra note 37, at 62.

[48] Swimme & Berry, supra note 7, at 258.

[49] Turner, supra note 37, at 62.

[50] Cf. id. at 54–65 (discussing the limitations of economic language in depicting the natural world and arguing that a new language paradigm is necessary to create real alternatives to economies based on the destruction of the natural world).

[51] Peter Berg, Envisioning Sustainability 83 (2009).

[52] See Paul Hawken, Blessed Unrest: How the Largest Movement in the World Came into Being and Why No One Saw It Coming 65 (2007) (highlighting how corporate-funded climate deniers, particularly think tanks, have spread “skepticism, if not cynicism, about efforts to mitigate climate change”); Interview of David Edwards by Derrick Jensen (Jan. 11, 2000), in How Shall I Live My Life?: On Liberating the Earth from Civilization, supra note 11, at 15 (emphasizing how a mere handful of corporate-financed climate change deniers have tilted the scales of public opinion, despite overwhelming scientific evidence refuting their contentions).

[53] White, supra note 42, at 175.

[54] Eric T. Freyfogle, On Private Property: Finding Common Ground on the Ownership of Land, at x (2007).

[55] Paul R. Ehrlich & Anne H. Ehrlich, One With Nineveh: Politics, Consumption, and The Human Future 269 (2004).

[56] 505 U.S. 1003 (1992).

[57] See id. at 1024–27 (resisting ecological considerations and holding that a state may refuse compensation only where proscribed use interests were denied when the holder took title).

[58] Richard J. Lazarus, The Making of Environmental Law 133 (2004).

[59] Guth, supra note 33, at 475.

[60] Westra, supra note 17, at 33.

[61] Brown et al., supra note 16, at 29.

[62] White, supra note 42, at 27.

[63] Foster, supra note 26, at 52.

[64] Freyfogle, supra note 8, at 194, 198–99.

[65] Garrett Hardin, The Tragedy of the Commons, 162 Science 1243 (1968).

[66] Id. at 1244.

[67] Raj Patel, The Value of Nothing: How to Reshape Market Society and Redefine Democracy 93 (2009).

[68] Peter G. Brown, The Commonwealth of Life: Economics for a Flourishing Earth 44 (2d ed., 2008).

[69] Peter Linebaugh, A Magna Carta Manifesto: Liberties and Commons for All 9–10 (2008); Patel, supra note 67, at 99.

[70] Brand, supra note 22, at 135.

[71] Chris Williams, Ecology and Socialism 43 (2010) (emphasis omitted).

[72] Patel, supra note 67, at 100.

[73] Id. at 111.

[74] Property law students would benefit from listening to Woody Guthrie’s “This Land Is Your Land,” in particular the verse: “As I went walking I saw a sign there / And on the sign it said ‘No Trespassing.’ / But on the other side it didn’t say nothing, / That side was made for you and me.” Woody Guthrie, This Land Is Your Land, on This Land Is Your Land: The Asch Recordings, Vol. 1 (Smithsonian Folkways 1997); Barbara Ehrenreich, This Land Is Their Land: Reports from a Divided Nation, 11–13 (2008) (reflecting upon the decline of Guthrie’s vision and noting the aggressive acquisition of spectacular natural vistas by the wealthy).

[75] Williams, supra note 71, at 45.

[76] McLaughlin, supra note 27, at 32.

[77] Warwick Fox, Toward a Transpersonal Ecology: Developing New Foundations for Environmentalism 33 (1990).

[78] McLaughlin, supra note 27, at 31–32.

[79] Cullinan, supra note 5, at 30.

[80] Butler, supra note 29, at 986.

[81] Mary Christina Wood, Nature’s Trust: A Legal, Political and Moral Frame for Global Warming, 34 B.C. Envtl. Aff. L. Rev. 577, 602 (2007).

[82] Bowers, supra note 39, at 51.

[83] Gary Snyder, The Gary Snyder Reader: Prose, Poetry, and Translations 1952–1998, at 291 (1999).

[84] Wendell Berry, The Idea of a Local Economy, in The Future of Nature: Writing on a Human Ecology from Orion Magazine 319, 326 (Barry Lopez ed., 2007).

[85] Ian Prattis, Failsafe in Consciousness: Gaia, Science, and the Buddha, The Trumpeter, Spring 2007, at 85, 86.

[86] David W. Orr, Earth in Mind: On Education, Environment, and the Human Prospect 12 (1994).

[87] Berry, The Sacred Universe, supra note 6, at 137–38.

[88] Jim Harrison, The Farmer’s Daughter 292 (2010).

[89] William M. Sullivan et al., Educating Lawyers: Preparation for the Profession of Law 145 (2007).

[90] Deborah L. Rhode, In the Interests of Justice: Reforming the Legal Profession 198 (2000).

[91] Orr, supra note 86, at 2.

[92] Rhode, supra note 90, at 201.

[93] E. F. Schumacher, Small Is Beautiful: Economics As If People Mattered 98 (Harper & Row reprt. 1989) (1973).

     [94]                                    Arthur M. Schlesinger, Jr., State of the ‘Vision Thing’, Los Angeles Times, Jan. 21, 2004, available at http://www.commondreams.org/views04/0121-06.htm.

[95] Orr, supra note 86, at 17.

[96] Richard Louv, Last Child in the Woods: Saving Our Children from Nature-Deficit Disorder 58 (2006) (quoting D.H. Lawrence).

[97] Orr, supra note 86, at 11.

[98] See id. at 17, 22.

[99] Lawrence S. Krieger, Institutional Denial About the Dark Side of Law School, and Fresh Empirical Guidance for Constructively Breaking the Silence, 52 J. Legal Educ. 112, 123–24 (2002).

[100] Id. at 117–18.

[101] Rhode, supra note 90, at 51.

[102] Id. at 32.

[103] Ehrlich & Ehrlich, supra note 55, at 217.

[104] Rhode, supra note 90, at 14.

[105] See Peter H. Huang & Rick Swedloff, Authentic Happiness & Meaning at Law Firms, 58 Syracuse L. Rev. 335, 335–36 (2008) (discussing studies showing that lawyers have higher rates of depression, substance abuse, and divorce than other professionals).

[106] Zygmunt Bauman, Consuming Life 6 (2007) (emphasis in original).

[107] Robert P. Gephart, Jr., Introduction to the Brave New Workplace: Organizational Behavior in the Electronic Age, 23 J. Organizational Behav. 327, 337 (2002).

[108] Bauman, supra note 106, at 10.

[109] Rhode, supra note 90, at 32.

[110] Louv, supra note 96, at 64–65.

[111] Id. at 43.

[112] Orr, supra note 86, at 100.

[113] Chris Hedges, Empire of Illusion: The End of Literacy and the Triumph of Spectacle 33 (2009).

[114] McLaughlin, supra note 27, at 79.

[115] Holmes Rolston III, Value in Nature and the Nature of Value, in Environmental Ethics: An Anthology 143, 143 (Andrew Light & Holmes Rolston III eds., 2003).

[116] Andrew Light & Holmes Rolston III, Introduction: Ethics and Environmental Ethics, in Environmental Ethics: An Anthology, supra note 115, at 7.

[117] Sullivan et al., supra note 89, at 133.

[118] Id. at 31.

[119] Id. at 21–22, 30–31.

[120] Id. at 49–50, 68.

[121] Id. at 57–58.

[122] See id. at 148–49.

[123] Id. at 149.

[124] Rhode, supra note 90, at 4.

[125] Id. at 32–34 (discussing the overvaluing of income, at the expense of other priorities).

[126] Id. at 15.

[127] Swimme & Berry, supra note 7, at 251.

[128] Theodore Roszak, The Voice of the Earth: An Exploration of Ecopsychology 233 (2d ed. 2001).

[129] Berry, supra note 6, at 132.

[130] Fox, supra note 77, at 35 (quoting John Rodman).

[131] Id. at 16.

[132] Brown, supra note 68, at 38.

[133] See, e.g., Peter Singer, Not for Humans Only: The Place of Nonhumans in Environmental Issues, in Environmental Ethics: An Anthology, supra note 115, at 55, 57 (discussing society’s ultimate recognition that racism is based on a flawed understanding of moral significance).

[134] McLaughlin, supra note 27, at 151.

[135] Fritjof Capra, Deep Ecology: A New Paradigm, in Deep Ecology for the Twenty-First Century, supra note 36, at 20.

[136] Terry W. Frazier, The Green Alternative to Classical Liberal Property Theory, 20 Vt. L. Rev. 299, 310 (1995).

[137] Holmes Rolston III, Philosophy Gone Wild: Essays in Environmental Ethics 218 (1986).

[138] Id.

[139] McLaughlin, supra note 27, at 115.

[140] Lovelock, supra note 15, at 243.

[141] Id. at 9.

[142] Thomas Berry, Ethics and Ecology, in Educating for Humanity: Rethinking the Purposes of Education 145, 153 (Mike Seymour ed., 2004).

[143] Henry David Thoreau, The Journal 1837–1861, at 361 (Damion Searls ed., 2009).

[144] Stone, supra note 38.

[145] Id. at 22–23 (stating that the comprehensive community includes environmental actors such as trees and rivers).

[146] Susan Emmenegger & Axel Tschentscher, Taking Nature’s Rights Seriously: The Long Way to Biocentrism in Environmental Law, 6 Geo. Int’l Envtl. L. Rev. 545, 571 (1994).

[147] Id.

[148] Berry, supra note 6, at 133.

[149] Stone, supra note 38, at 62.

[150] Cullinan, supra note 5, at 72.

[151] Joanna Macy, The Greening of the Self, in Ecotherapy: Healing with Nature in Mind 238, 243 (Linda Buzzell & Craig Chalquist eds., 2009) (quoting Gregory Bateson).

[152] Hedges, supra note 113, at 90.

[153] Ehrlich & Ehrlich, supra note 55, at 249.

[154] Hedges, supra note 113, at 90.

[155] Stone, supra note 38, at 66.

[156] Garvey, supra note 30, at 111.

[157] Rhode, supra note 90, at 17 (emphasis in original).

[158] Id. at 69.

[159] Brown, supra note 68, at x (emphasis in original).

[160] Wood, supra note 81, at 591.

[161] Schumacher, supra note 93, at 107.

[162] Fox, supra note 77, at 230 (quoting Arne Naess).

[163] Id.; see also Arne Naess, Ecology of Wisdom 81–82 (Alan Drengson & Bill Devall eds., 2008).

[164] Macy, supra note 151, at 244.

[165] Brown, supra note 68, at 48.

[166] Stone, supra note 38, at 27.

[167] Fox, supra note 77, at 113.

[168] The Fourteenth Dalai Lama, Universal Responsibility and the Climate Emergency, in A Buddhist Response to the Climate Emergency, supra note 25, at 22.

Collaborative Strategies for Managing Animal Migrations: Insights from the History of Ecosystem-Based Management

COLLABORATIVE STRATEGIES FOR MANAGING ANIMAL MIGRATIONS: INSIGHTS FROM THE HISTORY OF ECOSYSTEM-BASED MANAGEMENT

By

Steven L. Yaffee*

Twenty years of experience with collaborative ecosystem-based management (EBM) provides insights that can be applied to the management of animal migrations. Since the principles underlying EBM are the same as those informing migration conservation, and they exhibit many of the same challenges, it is reasonable to presume that factors that have facilitated progress in EBM will be helpful in migration conservation. These include factors related to motivation, organization, resources, adaptability, legitimacy, and energy that create the incentives and capacity to carry out landscape-scale collaborative action to secure migratory corridors. The EBM experience also suggests that these factors are best considered as elements of a dynamic project lifecycle that calls for different strategies at varying points of time. Less demanding social outcomes, such as communication, precede more complex ones, such as trust, and procedural and social improvements often precede ecological change. While collaborative action is almost by definition voluntary, in fact, collaborative EBM exists within an incentive structure that promotes joint decision making and action. Legal mandates such as the Endangered Species Act form part of this incentive structure. Well-managed collaborative processes can be effective at finding creative, win–win type strategies when given a credible goal with the space to invent solutions and the incentives to do so.

I. Introduction

Over the last two decades, efforts to conserve large landscapes in North America have involved scientists, managers, policy makers, and a range of nongovernmental stakeholders in a variety of collaborative processes. Sometimes called ecosystem-based management (EBM),[1] these efforts have attempted to manage at larger, more ecologically-relevant scales than traditionally was the case in terrestrial, freshwater, and marine systems. Because these efforts have important similarities to migration conservation, they can be viewed as a suite of experiments that can inform the development of collaborative arrangements for managing wide-ranging animal species.

This Article describes lessons that have emerged from these EBM efforts, highlighting the challenges that people have faced and the factors that seem to account for success. Given a pluralistic political system and a land base that is fragmented among multiple public and private owners, future strategies must be collaborative while still creating the incentives for the collaboration to yield conservation outcomes. How can this be done?

Part II identifies the key principles of EBM and how they relate to emerging principles of migration conservation, noting strong similarities of the two approaches. Both EBM and migration conservation involve management at larger spatial scales and longer and more sophisticated temporal scales. They focus on maintenance or restoration of key ecosystem processes (such as disturbance and migratory movement), not just the structural components of ecosystems (such as species and communities). Larger scales and more complex management strategies require cooperation and collaboration across boundaries and force decision makers to include more stakeholders in management decisions. To deal effectively with uncertainty and change, such as the potential impacts of climate change on habitat quality and migration behavior, adaptive management is needed to ensure ongoing learning and wiser strategic choices.

Part III summarizes the challenges that have faced individuals attempting to implement EBM projects and examines the limited evidence of challenges associated with cases of migration conservation. These challenges include: institutional and political barriers due to conflicting agency missions and competing demands for resources; attitudinal issues due to mistrust and conflicting cultures; and process management difficulties associated with complex, multiparty decision-making processes.

Since the principles and challenges of EBM and migration conservation appear similar, there is reason to believe that the factors promoting success in EBM efforts will help to promote similar migration conservation efforts, and Part IV summarizes these factors based on numerous case studies of EBM projects. These include factors that create motivation and momentum; structures that help to organize efforts effectively; and ways to access resources that help projects secure scientific information, manage processes efficiently, and create the potential for successes that in turn help to sustain collaborative efforts. EBM efforts also benefitted from evaluation and joint learning that promoted adaptability; legitimacy provided by involvement, accountability, and follow-through; and energy provided by key individuals or process champions.

Key to understanding EBM success—and hence the potential for migration conservation success—is that these efforts generally require sustained effort over relatively long periods of time. Studies of EBM projects suggest that they progress through a somewhat predictable life cycle, where strategies and outcomes tend to occur in iterative patterns. Part V presents a rough lifecycle model of EBM projects drawing on experience with more than twenty years of history of a number of EBM efforts. By understanding the dynamic nature of these processes, managers can better participate in and facilitate them, and policy makers can learn what they can expect from these processes and how policies can help produce conservation outcomes by assisting these processes at key points in time.

Finally, the collaborative, often extra-level, nature of these protection efforts raise questions about how they are accountable to statutory direction and how legal inducements relate to effective collaboration. In Part VI, I argue that well-managed collaborative processes usually benefit from legal and scientific boundaries that define the decision space onto which creative multiparty attention can be placed. Hence, a legal mandate to protect migrations is not at all at odds with a landscape-scale protection strategy that relies on collaborative action. At bottom, collaborative action for migration conservation needs to be incentivized and well-informed while giving the space and process skills to find solutions.

II. Ecosystem-Based Management and Migration Conservation

EBM developed in the early- to mid-1990s as a way out of crises caused by a set of stalemated endangered species and public lands conflicts, and a mechanism for incorporating new landscape-scale understanding of ecosystem science.[2]

A. Spatial Scale and Complex Systems in EBM

EBM called for expanding the spatial and temporal scale of planning and management with managers considering ecologically-relevant boundaries, such as landscape ecosystems or marine spatial units, rather than traditional administrative or political boundaries.[3] Instead of simplifying systems to promote industrial-scale production of single species, such as fish or trees, EBM embraced complexity and highlighted the need to protect critical ecosystem processes as a way to ensure the health of ecosystem components, including plant and animal species. Managers sought to incorporate more variables critical to the integrity of the system including disturbances, such as fire, and variability, such as fluctuations in hydrologic flow.[4] Overall, management aimed at finding balance among the demands of different user groups in a way that maintained or restored ecosystem integrity.

B. Collaboration and Adaptation in EBM

To accomplish larger scale, longer term, and more complex management regimes, EBM called for collaboration and adaptive management.[5] To achieve adequate scientific understanding, multiple scientists, agency managers, and nongovernmental parties were needed to pool information and participate in dialogue.[6] Since larger and more complex landscapes involved a mix of ownerships, interagency cooperation was needed to manage across geographic boundaries.[7] Often the broader set of public and private values involved in larger landscapes required decision makers to provide a place at the table for a larger set of affected and interested parties.[8] Finally, while traditional management tended to provide assurance through often erroneous images of certainty and predictability, EBM embraced adaptive management as a mechanism to deal with uncertainty and the inevitability of unplanned change.[9] In the best of cases, managers viewed decision making as a process of experimentation: strategies were explicitly linked to outcomes and their impact monitored, with results providing the basis for learning and adaptive change.[10]

As management principles, EBM’s focus on scale, complexity, ecosystem health, collaboration, and adaptive management are hard to dispute, and management in a number of places shifted from a single-species focus on commodity production to a more balanced emphasis on satisfying multiple demands while raising the priority of ecosystem integrity.[11] Ecological processes were more likely to be incorporated into management prescriptions and collaboration among stakeholders became much more of a norm.[12]

C. EBM Principles in Migration Conservation

Migration conservation exemplifies many of these same principles. In most cases, a proposal to protect migrations is a move to expand the spatial and temporal scale of management.[13] While traditional management might have focused on the place-based needs of a population, migration management must expand management boundaries to include pathways and far-flung places of importance to a species. The recognition that winter range and summer range are both important to the viability of a species expands the temporal considerations underlying management. Indeed a focus on migration itself highlights one key ecosystem process critical to the genetic fitness and biotic health of a species, and incorporates a complex-systems view of what is necessary to manage a wildlife population.

The Grand Teton National Park (GTNP) pronghorn antelope (Antilocapra americana) herd provides a good illustration. The herd travels up to 560 kilometers each year from winter range in the Upper Green River Basin to summer range in the GTNP and the surrounding areas of Jackson Hole valley.[14] This migration may well be the longest migration undertaken by a non-avian species in the continental United States, second only to the Arctic caribou (Rangifer tarandus).[15] Better management of this population requires an expanded definition of the spatial scale of management. It also requires a transboundary focus on habitat and threat management that goes beyond single agency approaches carried out by the National Park Service, the Bridger-Teton National Forest (BTNF), or the Wyoming Game and Fish Department.[16] Appropriate management strategies need to incorporate a temporal dimension—restrictions on activities at certain times of the year—that is more sophisticated than traditional zoning schemes. It would be implemented through multiple tools for behavior change including county-level subdivision development guidelines, state-advised livestock grazing practices, federal and local-level permitting processes on natural gas development, and technical assistance provided by nongovernmental groups.

Most places that are moving toward better protection of migrations are finding it necessary to promote cooperation and collaboration among scientists and stakeholders in defining appropriate corridors and addressing key threats. Cooperation and collaboration can take many forms,[17] including simple arrangements for sharing information and partnerships that link agencies and private landowners in a set of activities aimed at a common purpose. For example, corridor mapping exercises by South Coast Wildlands in southern California and the continent-wide mapping by Wildlands Network have involved collaborative science.[18] In managing the GTNP pronghorn, Wyoming Game and Fish staff have worked with landowners to remove fence barriers since at least 2000.[19] The Corridor Conservation Campaign effort involved the Green River Valley Land Trust (GRVLT) working with local landowners to install wildlife-friendly fencing using federal dollars to cover costs.[20] In California’s Eastern Sierra, management of the Round Valley mule deer (Odocoileus hemionus hemionus) herd has involved informal partnerships between the Eastern Sierra Land Trust, local resource agencies, and other conservation organizations, and has resulted in increased awareness of the migration corridor issue and specific bottlenecks along the way.[21]

In some places, collaboration involves complex multiparty working groups created to develop consensus-based solutions to complex problems. One of the key threats to the pronghorn lies in a “bottleneck” near Trapper’s Point, west of Pinedale, Wyoming, where the pronghorn funnel into a river valley where movement is constrained by a highway and subdivision. In 2003, the Trapper’s Point Working Group convened, involving the Wyoming Game and Fish Department, the Wildlife Conservation Society, GRVLT, the Wyoming Department of Transportation, and others.[22] Their mission was to develop recommendations for the U.S. Bureau of Land Management’s Resource Management Plan and to develop a protection plan for the Trapper’s Point area.[23] In the case of the Round Valley mule deer migration, the Mono County Collaborative Planning Team created a memorandum of understanding regarding mule deer habitat among agencies, which included the California Department of Fish and Game, Caltrans, the Los Angeles Department of Water and Power, and the Inyo National Forest.[24]

III. Implementation Challenges Facing EBM and Migration Conservation

While EBM principles make sense at a conceptual level, implementing them has been challenging due to factors that are also present in corridor protection. Table 1 summarizes the challenges facing collaborative ecosystem management identified in Professors Wondolleck and Yaffee’s 2000 study of more than one hundred cases of interorganizational collaboration in resource management.[25] These include institutional and structural barriers, such as conflicting organizational missions, policies that limit the flexibility needed to bridge organizational boundaries and limited resources; and attitudinal issues, including a lack of trust, the presence of organizational cultures that resist various elements of an EBM approach, and leaders that are unwilling to allow staff to move in this direction.[26] While the language of collaboration pervades resource management practice, with managers deftly using terms like “win–win” and “stakeholder engagement,” considerable evidence exists that the process skills needed to make these approaches work are not always part of agency managers’ toolkits.[27]

 

Table 1: Challenges Evidenced in Cases of
Collaborative Ecosystem Management[28]

                      Institutional and Structural Barriers

  • Lack of Opportunity or Incentives to Collaborate
  • Conflicting Goals and Missions
  • Inflexible Policies and Procedures
  • Limited Resources

                      Attitudes and Perceptions

  • Mistrust
  • Group Attitudes About Each Other
  • Organizational Norms and Culture
  • Lack of Support from Leadership

                      Problems with the Process of Collaboration

  • Unfamiliarity with the Process
  • Lack of Process Skills
  • Difficulties Managing the Relationship Between the Collaboration and Its Context

 

Subsequent studies have tended to corroborate the challenges in Table 1.[29] For example, in a study of the implementation of EBM by the Bureau of Land Management, Professor Koontz and Jennifer Bodine identified political, cultural, and legal factors as the most problematic.[30] These challenges included pressure for single-use management, a lack of resources, resistance to change, lawsuits that limited the potential for change, fragmented ownership boundaries, and the difficulties of getting groups with different perspectives to work together.[31] Perhaps most surprising was that scientific knowledge and leadership support were ranked as some of the lowest challenges in practice.[32]

The limited evidence from corridor conservation efforts is that many of these same challenges are at play. In a study of four cases of corridor conservation, Andrew Fotinos et al. highlighted conflicting directives and goals held by different public agencies as a major concern, with varying federal and state missions and cultures as particularly problematic.[33] They also pointed to limited resources, particularly staffing, to collect data, coordinate actions, and engage with nongovernmental parties.[34] For private lands, a mismatch between environmental review procedures that focus on incremental, project-by-project permitting and the cumulative, landscape-scale needs of migratory animals was also noted as a challenge.[35]

Both case studies of migration conservation profiled in this special issue exemplified these challenges. All collaborative processes need to manage the tension between centrifugal forces that undermine collaboration, and centripetal forces that incentivize joint action.[36] Even though most parties in the Kittatinny Ridge Coalition and the Path of the Pronghorn efforts shared the overarching goals of migration protection, neither faced strong enough incentives to motivate larger-scale collaboration. In Kittatinny Ridge, the scale of the effort is too large to drive a shared identity (137 communities in twelve counties joined with dozens of nongovernmental groups and focused on an area of more than five hundred square miles), too incremental to create a sense of crisis, and not extraordinary enough to motivate action.[37] In the Pronghorn case, strong identities defined by socioeconomic characteristics and geography create mistrust that makes it hard to find common ground.[38] Indeed, very different interests in how the pronghorn protection takes place led to strategic framing of the problem that further fragmented potential collaborative relationships.[39] In addition, the Trapper’s Point Working Group, one attempt at larger scale collaboration, failed to produce consensus recommendations at least in part due to poor process design and management: an artificially-imposed three-month deadline and numerous process management challenges that undermined the group’s ability to find a strategy.[40]

IV. Promoting Successful EBM and Migration Conservation

Since many of the core principles of EBM and migration conservation are the same, and the challenges facing proponents of both appear similar, factors that have promoted successful collaborative management in EBM are likely to assist efforts to better manage migrations and corridors. The experience from two decades of on-the-ground EBM efforts suggests that a wide range of factors facilitate progress (Table 2) and that these factors often reinforce each other.[41] Some are simply mirror images of challenges, as is the case when dedicated financial resources enable cross-boundary activity. Some motivate people in conflict to work collaboratively toward joint goals, while others sharpen an individual’s or agency’s sense of strategic gains through collaboration. Some are structural, derived from law or agency programs; but many are less formal, such as the presence of dedicated, energetic individuals. Hence these factors can be seen as the bricks and mortar of collaboration, where agency programs or legal structures provide the bricks, while more attitudinal factors provide the mortar that keeps the efforts together. In an increasingly fragmented and pluralistic society,[42] institutions or individuals that have the ability and vantage point to bridge differences are critically important.

 

Table 2: Factors Promoting Successful Collaborative
Ecosystem Management[43]

                      Motivation

  • Sense of Urgency Due to Perception of Crisis or Threat
  • Perception of Interdependence Due to Shared Goals or Strong Sense of Place
  • Incentives Created by Alternatives to Collaboration
  • Opportunities to Gain Due to Financial Inducements

                      Organization

  • Government Programs or Comparable Opportunities
  • Coordinator or Clear Leadership Responsibility
  • Well-Managed and Open Process
  • Development and Use of a Management Plan or Comparable Framework for Joint Action

                      Resources

  • Facilitation and Process Management
  • Scientific Expertise and Information
  • Dedicated Funding, Staff, and Equipment

                      Adaptability

  • Joint Learning Grounded in Credible Science
  • Ongoing Monitoring and Assessment Connected to Decision Making

                      Legitimacy

  • Effective Representation of All Affected Interests
  • Accountability and Ties to Statutory Decision-Making Processes
  • Commitment and Follow-Through of Agency and Political Leaders

                      Energy

  • Dedicated, Energetic Individuals
  • Process Champions, Social Networks, and Preexisting Relationships
  • Small Successes

A. Incentives to Cooperate

In most situations, considerable incentive exists for individuals or groups to operate independently, hence collaboration must be motivated or it will not occur. In many EBM cases, motivation came from the shared perception of a threat to a valued resource.[44] At times, a perception of crisis was needed to force agencies and other parties to rise above their competing interests and take shared action.[45] Crises could be environmental, as when old growth habitat loss threatened species such as the Northern Spotted Owl,[46] or they could be regulatory, such as when the threat of Endangered Species Act-derived litigation encouraged parties to negotiate with each other.[47]

Shared identification with a place such as the Sierra Nevada or the ancient forests of the Pacific Northwest helped parties to overcome their conflict-laden characterization of others as tree huggers, callous bureaucrats, or profiteers.[48] In some places, the alternative to collaborative action became so distasteful that disputing interests were motivated to try to work together, such as when continued litigation over management of endangered fisheries in the Missouri River started to appear so costly and exhausting to stakeholder groups that it was “time for something different.”[49] And in many places, the opportunity to secure significant financial resources for a collaborative effort motivated action, as has been the case with lining up agency, political, and nongovernmental support for restoration initiatives in the Great Lakes and south Florida.[50]

Conservation of migration corridors and migrating animals may respond to some of these same facilitating factors. For some charismatic species facing threats, such as Monarch butterflies (Danaus plexippus), sea turtles, and Sandhill Cranes (Grus canadensis), threats may be sharpened into a sense of crisis by advocates for the species. In other places, providing a unique identity by naming a corridor may help to motivate action. The “Missing Linkages” efforts of South Coast Wildlands in southern California may well fall into this category, as do comparable efforts in Arizona, Colorado, and elsewhere.[51] The efforts of the U.S. Bureau of Land Management and nongovernmental groups at labeling the pronghorn migration as the “Path of the Pronghorn” may also focus attention in a productive manner.[52] Indeed, the Wyoming Outdoor Council distributed a film entitled Ancient Corridors to provide focus on the migration itself.[53] On the other hand, the abundance of some migratory animals in portions of their range may undercut motivation to act.[54]

Significant funding aimed at connecting habitat fragments may also be a potent motivator of joint action. This incentive was evident in the wildlife habitat network funding of the Doris Duke Charitable Foundation and may be a part of future federal climate change adaptation programs.[55] While the funding itself is important as a resource, the opportunity to secure funding is a way to motivate collaborative action, even if most parties to the collaboration are simply seeking a mechanism to accomplish their own individual goals.

B. Using Existing Governmental Structures and Planning Processes

In EBM, preexisting government programs often provided a vehicle through which collaboration was initiated. For example, in marine conservation, the National Estuary Program (NEP) of the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency (EPA)[56] and the National Marine Sanctuary Program (NMSP) of the U.S. National Oceanic and Atmospheric Agency (NOAA)[57] are providing structures through which scientists are sharing information and stakeholders are providing input on management direction.[58] In terrestrial EBM, planning processes for public lands have provided a mechanism to engage partners. Many of these same mechanisms could be used to facilitate collaborative action for corridor protection. For example, the BTNF in Wyoming designated a Pronghorn Migration Corridor in a national forest plan amendment adopted in 2008.[59] Such designations enable collaborative research and partnerships aimed at implementing protection within the migration corridor.[60]

While EBM efforts have at times only been successful at producing a plan and have bogged down during implementation, having an agreed-upon plan or framework for action has empowered those who would advocate for its implementation. While the BTNF plan amendment did not change any current direction for the identified area and does not make decisions about compatible uses,[61] it enables the use of memoranda of understanding and partnership arrangements that nongovernmental groups are using to carry out work on the BTNF.[62] Ultimately, designation may provide a vehicle for nongovernmental groups to press for action to comply with the plan.

C. Obtaining Adequate Resources Through Partnerships

Since a lack of resources has been one of the major cited challenges facing managers and collaborators engaged in EBM,[63] having funding, staffing, scientific information, and good process management skills available can facilitate progress. State and federal agencies may have expertise that enables good management decisions if the migrating species are game animals or are listed sensitive species; other species may be more challenged by a lack of good information. Given federal and state budget cutbacks, resources for corridor conservation may well need to come from nongovernmental partners. Indeed, examples of current efforts to manage corridors rely on nongovernmental collaborators as important partners. These include: the Rocky Mountain Elk Foundation’s work on the Absaroka Conservation Initiative, an effort designed to protect migration corridors of the Clark’s Fork and Cody elk herds in Wyoming;[64] work by the Eastern Sierra Land Trust focused on the Round Valley mule deer migration in California;[65] and activities of the GRVLT, the Wildlife Conservation Society, the Jackson Hole Conservation Alliance, and the Jackson Hole Land Trust on protection of the GTNP pronghorn migration.[66]

Partnership arrangements are particularly important in carrying out educational outreach to private landowners and community members, a process of technical assistance and engagement vital to achieving changes in private land management, securing easements on important habitat segments, and achieving public concurrence on the nature of the problem and strategies for protection.[67] The GRVLT wildlife-friendly fencing program provides a good example. GRVLT was able to secure one million dollars in funds from the Jonah Compensation Mitigation Fund to initiate a program to influence private rancher behavior.[68] According to the project director, “We motivated conservation behavior by offering and in fact installing cost-free wildlife-friendly fencing for interested landowners. The fact that the modifications were free and voluntary was an important consideration.”[69] This partnership arrangement leveraged funding and staffing beyond what was available from the BTNF, and provided a nonthreatening mechanism for outreach to private landowners. Indeed, such nongovernmental advocates for public goods such as migration conservation may be the only way to achieve objectives in places where property rights concerns and anti-government feeling are high.

D. Monitoring for Adaptive Management

While textbook-quality adaptive management has rarely been seen in EBM practice, projects have benefited from deliberate efforts at joint learning through collaborative science, monitoring, and evaluation. Place-based restoration efforts, including the Chesapeake Bay, Florida Everglades, and the Trinity River in California, have developed extensive monitoring and management protocols that are designed to ensure the legitimacy of their efforts in the eyes of the multiple partners.[70] Restoration programs for the Pacific salmon (Oncorhynchus) in the Pacific Northwest have evidenced some of the more deliberate efforts to identify uncertainty and incorporate adaptive responses into management prescriptions. Developed as a collaborative multi-watershed response to the listing of particular runs of salmon, and first entitled Shared Strategy and then Puget Sound Partnership, the programs have been structured to promote watershed-scale planning and action coupled with experiment-driven research, monitoring, and evaluation.[71] While monitoring and evaluation can be challenging at the scale of effort needed to restore salmon, adaptive management may be easier in the case of many other migratory species. By having single species indicators measurable across temporal and spatial boundaries, it may be possible to define population and habitat metrics and to prioritize research and management for experimentation purposes.

E. Enhancing Political Support

EBM projects also benefited from mechanisms used to enhance the perceived legitimacy of their efforts. These approaches include outreach to ensure representation of the range of affected groups in the collaborative effort, efforts to ensure that the collaboration is well tied to ongoing statutory decision-making processes, and significant commitment and follow-through by agency and political leaders.[72] Parties involved in EBM often point to limited “political will” as a major barrier;[73] commitment by high level political officials often provides the legitimacy needed to encourage agency staff and nongovernmental actors to take the processes seriously. For example, having gubernatorial buy-in to the Everglades restoration and commitment by multiple governors in the Gulf of Mexico Alliance has been critical to the restoration progress.[74]

Achieving political buy-in to corridor and migration conservation will probably depend on the specific context. Long distance, wide-ranging migrations such as the travels of the Pacific Loggerhead Turtle (Caretta caretta) may be harder because of the many involved countries and competing claims in international waters.[75] Unlike place-based restoration projects, migration conservation often involves more dispersed parties with fewer shared interests other than the population status of the migratory species.[76] Hence, finding a basis for cooperation may be challenging. It is heartening that the Western Governors’ Association (WGA) adopted a resolution supporting protection of migration corridors partly as a defensive action against rampant oil and gas development.[77] The WGA subsequently created a Western Wildlife Habitat Council to pursue research and promote action.[78] However, whether such symbolic action will be followed up by real support for migration or corridor conservation depends on the level of broader public support for these actions and the cost of taking action.

F. Tapping into the Energy of Dedicated “Champions”

Finally, just as Monsters, Inc.[79] drew its energy from children’s screams, collaborative EBM has drawn on the energies of dedicated individuals who went beyond their job descriptions and their organizations’ bureaucratic norms.[80] These individuals include agency and nongovernmental organization (NGO) staff, volunteers, and other community members.[81] When structuring a collaborative group, facilitators seek to include not just “stakeholders,” but also visionaries and process champions.[82] These are the people that articulate shared goals, remind participants of the value of their collaborative work when times get tough, and provide the basis for all parties to rise above their parochial concerns. Since ecological outcomes may require long term sustained collaborative effort, ways to continue to energize a group are important. In the case of protecting migration corridors as a climate adaptation strategy, the challenge is particularly acute because efforts are aimed at avoiding an uncertain but feared outcome rather than solving an immediate problem. For most groups, celebrating small successes is one way to maintain momentum. For migration conservation, habitat protections can be measured: each hectare of priority habitat protected out of a defined corridor is a reportable accomplishment. Charting such outcomes on a report card or progress thermometer can be helpful.

V. The Lifecycle of EBM Efforts

Another lesson from the EBM experience is that projects move forward dynamically through a lifecycle of strategies and outcomes (Figure 1). By understanding this evolution, one can better plan for changes in strategies and be prepared to see changes emerge over longer periods of time than would be desirable. In addition, measures of success need to be tiered to the specific stage of the project lifecycle.

A. Stages in the EBM Lifecycle

Projects are usually initiated in response to a crisis, perceived threat, or opportunity posed by political or institutional changes, as discussed above.[83] Often a period of outreach and information collection determines which interagency and multiparty communication takes place.[84] At this stage, the best measure of success lies in understanding which groups have been mobilized to be involved.

 

 

Figure 1: EBM Project Evolution Showing Changes
in Strategies and Outcomes

Strategies

Outcomes

Initiation

Outreach & Involvement

More Communication & Cooperation

Collection of Information

Involvement by Agencies & Core Interests

   

Planning & Early Implementation

Plan Development

Increased Group Interaction

Broader Involvement;
Use of Collaborative Process

Involvement of a Broader Set of Groups (NGOs, Private)

Pilot Activities (Education, Research, Restoration)

Increased Scientific Understanding

Later Implementation

Use of Land as Organizing Feature

Increased Trust & Respect

Increased Importance of Dedicated
People & Committed Agencies

Reduced Opposition; Increased Support by Landowners

Use of Existing Programs
as Tools

Better Scientific Understanding

Ecological & Social Effects

1. Planning and Early Implementation

Most efforts move into a planning stage in which more formalized structures develop to engage a broader set of actors in the formulation of a plan for action, along with possible pilot management and restoration efforts.[85] While some small on-the-ground changes may emerge from pilot efforts, the primary outcomes of this stage are procedural and social: more interaction among groups, greater levels of involvement, and higher levels of scientific understanding. Key parties’ signatures on a plan for action may represent an overarching metric for this stage, since it presumably suggests that groups understand and concur on its contents.

2. Later Implementation

While groups often bog down as they try to convert a plan into action, the next stage involves implementation activities that use the plan as an organizing and motivating mechanism. Dedicated, energetic, committed individuals become particularly important to sustain activities,[86] and often they use a range of existing programs as implementation tools.[87] From these efforts come higher-level social outcomes—more support, less opposition, higher levels of trust[88]—along with more scientific understanding.[89] Over time, these social outcomes can translate into ecological outcomes.

3. Social and Ecological Improvements

Based on our time-series research on multiple EBM cases, it appears that the social and procedural improvements often precede ecological changes to enable on-the-ground restoration and management results.[90] These patterns are clearly iterative and interactive, since small-scale ecological success sometimes breeds excitement, which results in higher levels of engagement and heightened social capital. In turn, this increased engagement and heightened social capital can be used to motivate further ecological improvements. Since most of the key challenges facing EBM efforts are social and procedural, it should not be surprising that improvements in social dynamics and involvement need to be achieved before significant ecological change is likely to be sustained. At the same time, however, the long term goal of the efforts should lie in ecological change, and if collaborative efforts solely achieve procedural improvements—less conflict, more dialogue—then that is not good enough. Measures of programmatic success need to track social, procedural, and ecological change.

B. Lessons for Migration Conservation

Advocates of migration conservation should take several lessons from the EBM experience. First, these efforts take time; they are likely to be incremental and painfully long in duration. Second, they involve multiple strategies—ecological and social—that need to be staged effectively over time. Third, success should be measured in multiple ways that respond both to near and intermediate term success, which is often measured in procedural or social terms, as well as longer term measures of ecological change.

Given the challenges inherent in sustaining collaboration, particular attention should be paid to coordination of effort across both space and time, and management of staffing and political transitions that ensure that collaborating organizations understand and continue to buy into the collaborative effort. Ongoing outreach is critical to ensure sustained political, public, and scientific support for the efforts. Being clear about the logic of the program—how it aims to achieve success—and testing whether progress is matching that flow of logic will help in adaptive management of the effort. Finding ways to periodically ramp up the perceived level of crisis or need may be necessary to continue investment in the effort. Relationship building among key players is also worth the investment since personal relationships across agencies and organizations often provide the social capital that sustains these efforts and keeps them productive through years of work.

VI. Balancing Coercion and Collaboration—The Role of Legal Structures

A variety of normative perspectives have emerged on collaborative resource management. While this Article has viewed collaboration in EBM and migration conservation as a necessary tool, some have advocated for “collaborative conservation” primarily as a means of shifting power from federal and state government to private parties at the local level.[91] Others have viewed collaborative processes as an extra-legal end run around defined statutory decision-making processes, or as explicit attempts to co-opt the interests of certain parties.[92] Still others have viewed the ecological outcomes of collaborative resource management with skepticism, claiming that all collaboration produces is “feel-good hand-holding sessions” or at best, “lowest common denominator” decision making.[93] While there has been a robust dialogue in the field about the purposes and ends of collaboration, this discussion has an important upshot for those promoting migration conservation. Attention needs to be paid to the context within which collaborative action takes place, so that it incentivizes good faith and real participation, and ensures accountability.

Given the challenges to EBM and migration conservation described above and that one of the key facilitating factors is shared motivation by the parties involved in collaboration, it is vitally important that the context of collaboration creates incentives for the parties to do the hard work of exploring interests and scientific realities, searching for creative strategies to move forward and be willing to buy in and take action. While some of these incentives are organically derived by a perceived crisis or a charismatic spokesperson, legal structures that establish management bottom lines are often critical to real progress. I estimate that half of the collaborative processes we have studied have succeeded because they have a regulatory driver in the form of a federally-listed endangered or threatened species.[94] Certainly there would be less Puget Sound salmon recovery work carried out by a basin-scale collaborative effort absent the listing of particular salmon runs.[95]

A. Legal Mandates or Public Lands Plans as Incentives for Collaboration

Legal mandates or public lands plans that commit to the end-state goals of a migration or a corridor help to create incentives for effective collaboration. Some may view this as coercive collaboration, but in fact, collaborative process management is greatly benefitted by some real legal and scientific boundaries that frame the decision space. And where hard choices must be made in the face of individual incentives that keep people and organizations from making those choices, almost all are coerced—by a deadline, a need to commit resources, a threat of what will happen without the choice, and the like.[96] To enable the collaboration, however, the mandated goal must make sense in technical terms and be framed as an end, not a particular means to the end. Hence, a forest plan or an ecosystem law can commit public and private landowners to a conservation objective, such as abundance of a species across its range or protection of a corridor, without specifying the mechanism for achieving protection—easements, specific management practices, land acquisition, restoration or mitigation, precluding certain uses, etc.[97] Well-managed collaborative processes are very effective at finding creative, win-win type strategies when given a credible goal with the space to invent solutions and the incentives to do so.

B. Legal Mandates to Improve Accountability

Such mandates can also ensure accountability so that collaborative decision making has a scientifically-sound mechanism to test for appropriateness. Some view procedural guidelines as an adequate means of ensuring accountability and it is the case that guidance about who is at the table and their rules of engagement is important, as long as they convey reasoned procedural concerns and not simply ones that have taken bureaucratic shape.[98] However, biotic and ecosystem change is ultimately what matters (populations increase; they are genetically more robust due to migration processes, etc.) and measures of these changes need to be monitored with links back to the collaborative decision-making process. Given the lifecycle of projects described above, it is also important to define measures of progress in terms of intermediate outcomes and procedural improvements, and such measures become important proxies of appropriate direction in the near term if a project has a reasoned theory of change.[99] But definitions of progress in solely procedural and intermediate terms are not adequate to achieve accountable collaboration. Indeed, in times of fiscal retrenchment, agencies tend to retreat into their core technologies and abandon collaborative efforts.[100] Legal standards can help to keep the end-state goals in mind.

VII. Conclusion

Collaborative action can result in higher levels of protection for migratory animals and the pathways through which they move. In a world of limited resources, diffuse knowledge, and geographic and political fragmentation, strategic partnerships and collaboration may be the only way to muster the expertise, resources, and power to achieve conservation outcomes. Yet the evidence from collaborative EBM is that these processes are more challenging than one might expect. Lessons from two decades of on-the-ground experience can provide guidance for future conservation.



* Professor of Natural Resource and Environmental Policy and Director, Ecosystem Management Initiative, School of Natural Resources and Environment, University of Michigan. I want to thank Professor Robert Fischman for his invitation to participate in the migration conservation symposium that gave rise to these papers. I appreciate his comments on my draft manuscript, along with those of Elizabeth Baldwin. I also want to acknowledge the contributions of my colleagues, Julia Wondolleck and Sheila Schueller, whose collaborative research has helped shape the ideas about the factors that promote successful ecosystem management contained in this article.

[1] The terms ecosystem-based management and ecosystem management generally refer to a more holistic and place-based style of natural resource decision making. See Norman L. Christensen et al., The Report of the Ecological Society of America Committee on the Scientific Basis for Ecosystem Management, 6 Ecological Applications 665, 668–69 (1996) (providing a commonly cited definition of EBM in terrestrial systems); see also Commc’n P’ship for Sci. & the Sea, Scientific Consensus Statement on Marine Ecosystem-Based Management (2005), available at http://doc.nprb.org/web/BSIERP/EBM%20scientific%20statement.pdf (providing a common-cited definition of EBM in marine systems endorsed by 217 academic scientists and policy experts with relevant expertise). For descriptions of common features in multiple definitions of EBM, see R. Edward Grumbine, What Is Ecosystem Management?, 8 Conservation Biology 27, 28–31 (1994) and Steven L. Yaffee, Three Faces of Ecosystem Management, 13 Conservation Biology 713, 715 (1999). See also infra Part II.

[2] Grumbine, supra note 1, at 28–29; Gary K. Meffe et al., Ecosystem Management: Adaptive Community-Based Conservation 58–60 (2002) (discussing the transition from traditional management to ecosystem management); Steven Lewis Yaffee, The Wisdom of the Spotted Owl: Policy Lessons for a New Century 157 (1994).

[3] In the terrestrial realm, ecological problems associated with management by administrative boundaries are well-described. Peter B. Landres et al., Ecological Effects of Administrative Boundaries, in Stewardship Across Boundaries 39, 39–64 (Richard L. Knight & Peter B. Landres eds., 1998). In the marine realm, fragmented administrative decision making has similarly been identified as a problem for natural resource management. See U.S. Comm’n on Ocean Policy, An Ocean Blueprint for the 21st Century 5–10 (2004), available at http://dlc.dlib.indiana.edu/dlc/bitstream/handle/10535/6857/ocean_full_report.pdf?sequence=1. Multiple management strategies have been attempted to promote ecosystem-scale collaboration. The most recent efforts can be seen in concepts promoted by the U.S. Department of the Interior to deal with climate change as landscape conservation cooperatives. U.S. Dep’t of the Interior, Sec’y Order No. 3289, Addressing the Impacts of Climate Change on America’s Water, Land, and Other Natural and Cultural Resources (2009), available at http://elips.doi.gov/app_so/act_getfiles.cfm?order_number=3289. In the marine realm, ecosystem-scale planning is required. Exec. Order No. 13,547, 75 Fed. Reg. 43,023, 43,023–24 (Jul. 22, 2010).

[4] Traditional management tended to simplify systems. Forest management aimed at plantations of monocultures; river management emphasized engineering solutions to control downstream risk. See, e.g., Meffe et al., supra note 2, at 61–66. EBM recognized that simplification strategies resulted in losses of biodiversity and reduced resilience, as fire-dependent species and old-growth ecosystems declined and aquatic species declined as rivers were simplified and decoupled from their landscapes. See id. at 62, 64 (explaining that fire suppression techniques involve reducing variation within an ecosystem).

[5] See, e.g., Julia M. Wondolleck & Steven L. Yaffee, Making Collaboration Work: Lessons from Innovation in Natural Resource Management 26–45 (2000) (citing multiple examples of ongoing collaborations in ecosystem management); Steven L. Yaffee et al., Ecosystem Management in the United States: An Assessment of Current Experience 293–303 (1996) (providing a state-by-state list of 619 ecosystem management projects).

[6] The Albemarle-Pamlico Estuarine Study, which focuses on Albemarle Sound and Pamlico Sound in eastern North Carolina, provides an example of a science-based collaborative management process on the ecosystem scale. See Thomas M. Koontz et al., Collaborative Environmental Management: What Roles for Government? 103–25 (2004). While scientific collaboration has not been enough to overcome key conflicts among stakeholders, the process has served as a foundation for information sharing and a platform for conflict resolution. See id. at 123–24 (explaining that the Albemarle-Pamlico Estuarine Study led to new governmental networks, better communication, and several new, coordinated programs).

[7] An interagency partnership arrangement is at the heart of the cooperative management structure for the Elkhorn Mountains in Montana, with a memorandum of understanding and a cross-ownership area coordinator shared by the U.S. Department of Agriculture’s Forest Service, the U.S. Bureau of Land Management, and the Montana Department of Fish, Wildlife, and Parks. See Wondolleck & Yaffee, supra note 5, at 87–88.

[8] For example, the Animas River Stakeholder Group was initiated by the Colorado Water Quality Control Division to engage stakeholders in a watershed-scale joint problem-solving effort as an alternative to a more traditional top-down regulatory strategy. Koontz et al., supra note 6, at 129–30. The effort greatly expanded the number of groups involved in negotiating a decision. Id. at 130–31.

[9] Grumbine, supra note 1, at 31. Adaptive management incorporates an explicit process of learning into management actions, either passively, a process of “learning by doing” by incorporating monitoring and evaluation, or actively by incorporating a rigorous process of identifying uncertainties by developing a conceptual model, then formulating experiments to test hypotheses about the areas of uncertainty, so that management actions become more informed over time. See generally C.S. Holling, Int’l Inst. for Applied Sys. Analysis, Adaptive Environmental Assessment and Management (1978) (arguing that real-world experience is most useful in analyzing ecosystem management); Carl Walters, Adaptive Management of Renewable Resources (1986) (arguing that mathematical and statistical analysis should be used to organize ecosystem management experience and reduce uncertainty in management efforts).

[10] While there are very few cases in which analysts would agree that successful adaptive management has occurred, ecosystem management efforts that exemplify an adaptive approach (with limited success) include restoration of south Florida ecosystems, the Grand Canyon Adaptive Management Program, and the Trinity River. See, e.g., Comprehensive Everglades Restoration Plan, Adaptive Management Strategy (2006), available at http://www.evergladesplan.org/pm/recover/recover_docs/am/rec_am_stategy_brochure.pdf; Comm. on Grand Canyon Monitoring & Research, Nat’l Research Council, Downstream: Adaptive Management of the Glen Canyon Dam and the Colorado River Ecosystem 54–65 (1999). For a description of adaptive environmental assessment and management at the Trinity River Restoration Program, see Trinity River Restoration Program, Adaptive Environmental Assessment and Management, http://www.trrp.net/science/AEAM.htm (last visited Feb. 26, 2011).

[11] Federal forest management in the Pacific Northwest was transformed during this period from an overriding emphasis on management of timber to a broader system of management of old growth resources, resulting in a major shift in timber production. See Forest Ecosystem Mgmt. Assessment Team, Forest Ecosystem Management: An Ecological, Economic and Social Assessment II-1 to -3 (1993).

[12] Meffe et al., supra note 2, at 3–4.

[13] See Robert L. Fischman & Jeffrey B. Hyman, The Legal Challenge of Protecting Animal Migrations as Phenomena of Abundance, 28 Va. Envtl. L.J. 173, 179–81, 186, 203–04 (2010). For example, New World Red Knots (Calidris canutus rufa) migrate between breeding groups in the Canadian Arctic and wintering grounds in South America, and rely on a set of stopover points in order to build up energy for the next leg of their journey. See, e.g., Lawrence J. Niles et al., Effects of Horseshoe Crab Harvest in Delaware Bay on Red Knots: Are Harvest Restrictions Working?, 59 Bioscience 153, 153 (2009). One of the reasons the Red Knot population has declined has come from overharvesting of horseshoe crabs resulting in reduced availability of crab eggs for Red Knot consumption in Delaware Bay in the eastern United States. Id. at 158. An ecosystem-scale focus on Red Knot migration conservation must consider these far-flung habitat areas. Id. at 161. Management also may require more sophisticated temporal strategies including reduced harvesting of horseshoe crabs during certain seasons. See id. at 154.

[14] Joel Berger, The Last Mile: How to Sustain Long-Distance Migration in Mammals, 18 Conservation Biology 320, 324, 331 app. 1 (2004); see also Joel Berger et al., Connecting the Dots: An Invariant Migration Corridor Links the Holocene to the Present, 2 Biology Letters 528, 530 (2006).

[15] See Berger, supra note 14, at 331 app. 1.

[16] See David N. Cherney & Susan G. Clark, The American West’s Longest Large Mammal Migration: Clarifying and Securing the Common Interest, 42 Pol’y Sci. 95, 104–05 (2009).

[17] In another article, I described a rough taxonomy of cooperative behaviors: 1) awareness, “being cognizant of others’ interests and actions”; 2) communication, “talking about goals and activities”; 3) coordination, “actions of one party are carried out in a manner that supports (or does not conflict with) those of another”; and 4) collaboration, “active partnerships with resources being shared or work being done by multiple partners.” Steven L. Yaffee, Cooperation: A Strategy for Achieving Stewardship Across Boundaries, in Stewardship Across Boundaries, supra note 3, at 299, 301 tbl.14.1. Definitions of collaboration generally involve a joint decision-making process. Steve Selin & Deborah Chavez, Developing a Collaborative Model for Environmental Planning and Management, 19 Envtl. Mgmt. 189, 190 (1995) (“Collaboration implies a joint decision-making approach to problem resolution where power is shared, and stakeholders take collective responsibility for their actions . . . .”).

[18] S. Coast Wildlands, South Coast Missing Linkages: A Wildland Network for the South Coast Ecoregion 3–4 (2008), available at http://www.scwildlands.org/reports/
SCMLRegionalReport.pdf
. The Wildlands Network has mapped four major corridors in North America: the Eastern Wildway extending northward from the Everglades along the Appalachians to the Arctic; the Western Wildway spanning the continent from Mexico, through the Rockies, to Alaska; the Pacific Wildway running from Baja to Alaska; and the Boreal Wildway running west-east from Alaska to the Canadian Maritimes across the forest roof of North America. See Wildlands Network, Wildways: Creating Landscapes for Life, http://www.twp.org/wildways (last visited Apr. 27, 2011).

[19] See Cherney & Clark, supra note 16, at 108.

[20] David N. Cherney, Securing the Free Movement of Wildlife: Lessons from the American West’s Longest Land Mammal Migration, 41 Envtl. L. 599, 609–10 (2011); see also Andrew Fotinos et al., Ungulate Pathways of the West: Challenges and Opportunities for Conserving Ungulate Migrations in the Western United States 45 (Apr. 2009) (unpublished Master of Science project, School of Natural Resources and Environment, University of Michigan), available at http://deepblue.lib.umich.edu/bitstream/2027.42/62100/1/Ungulate_Pathways.pdf.

[21] Fotinos et al., supra note 20, at 30.

[22] Memorandum from Wyo. Game & Fish Dep’t on Trapper’s Point Bottleneck Conservation (Oct. 1, 2003) (unpublished meeting notes) (on file with Wyoming Game & Fish Department).

[23] See infra note 29 and accompanying text.

[24] Fotinos et al., supra note 20, at 31.

[25] See Yaffee et al., supra note 5, at 49–65.

[26] See id. at 31–34.

[27] Wondolleck & Yaffee, supra note 5, at 64.

[28] Id. at 51–66.

[29] See, e.g., Tomas M. Koontz & Jennifer Bodine, Implementing Ecosystem Management in Public Agencies: Lessons from the U.S. Bureau of Land Management and the Forest Service, 22 Conservation Biology 60, 60–69 (2008).

[30] Id. at 66.

[31] Id.

[32] Id.

[33] Fotinos et al., supra note 20, at 213–14.

[34] Id. at 214.

[35] Id.

[36] Yaffee, supra note 17, at 304.

[37] See Jamison Colburn, Habitat Reserve Problem-Solving: Desperately Seeking Sophisticated Intermediaries, 41 Envtl. L. 619, 625 (2011).

[38] Cherney, supra note 20, at 598–600.

[39] Id. at 599.

[40] Cherney & Clark, supra note 16, at 103.

[41] Yaffee et al., supra note 5, at 27.

[42] See Robert D. Putnam, Bowling Alone: The Collapse and Revival of American Community 288 (2000) (describing the importance of bridging and bonding social capital to resolve collective problems, yet highlighting the decline of such capital in a society with fewer bridging institutions).

[43] Adapted from Wondolleck & Yaffee, supra note 5 (providing advice and observations drawn from a decade of research regarding successful collaborative ecosystem management efforts).

[44] Id. at 76–77.

[45] Id. at 77.

[46] Steven Lewis Yaffee, The Wisdom of the Spotted Owl: Policy Lessons for a New Century 156–57 (Island Press 1994).

[47] In battles over the future of the Grayrocks Dam near Laramie, Wyoming, regulatory uncertainty encouraged the parties to negotiate. See Lawrence S. Bacow & Michael Wheeler, Environmental Dispute Resolution 46–50 (1984).

[48] See Barbara Gray, Framing of Environmental Disputes, in Making Sense of Intractable Environmental Conflicts: Concepts and Cases 11, 21–24 (Roy J. Lewicki, Barbara Gray & Michael Elliott eds., 2003); Todd A. Bryan & Julia M. Wondolleck, When Irresolvable Becomes Resolvable: The Quincy Library Group Conflict, in Making Sense of Intractable Environmental Conflicts: Concepts and Cases, supra, at 68, 81–89.

[49] Collaborative Decision Res. Assoc., Situation Assessment Report on the Feasibility and Convening of a Missouri River Recovery Implementation Committee 17–18 (2006), available at http://www.mediate.org/wp-content/uploads/nat-resources_mrric.pdf.

[50] President Obama announced a $475 million restoration program for the Great Lakes, much of which is to be carried out through grants to partner organizations. White House Council on Envtl. Quality et al., Great Lakes Restoration Initiative Action Plan 4 (2010), available at http://greatlakesrestoration.us/action/wp-content/uploads/glri_actionplan.pdf. Congress approved a comprehensive restoration program for the Everglades ecosystem in 2000. Expected to provide upwards of $10.9 billion in federal, state, and other funds, approximately $1.4 billion in initial projects have been funded. Pervaze A. Sheikh & Nicole T. Carter, Cong. Research Serv., RS22048, Everglades Restoration: The Federal Role in Funding 1 (2006), available at http://cnie.org/nle/crsreports/06feb/RS22048.pdf.

[51] See, e.g., S. Coast Wildlands, supra note 18, at 1, 3–4; S. Rockies Ecosystem Project, Linking Colorado’s Landscapes: A Statewide Assessment of Wildlife Linkages Phase I Report 1 (2005), available at ftp://167.131.109.8/techserv/ORWildlifeMoveStrategy/Reading/
Colorados%20Report%20on%20Linking%20Landscapes.pdf; Ariz. Dep’t of Transp., The Arizona Wildlife Linkages Workgroup, http://www.azdot.gov/inside_adot/OES/AZ_WildLife_Linkages/
workgroup.asp (last visited Feb. 25, 2011).

[52] See Cherney, supra note 20, at 603–05.

[53] DVD: Ancient Corridors—Following the Prehistoric Path of the Pronghorn (Wyoming Outdoor Council 2006); see also Molly Absolon, Ancient Corridors—Following the Prehistoric Path of the Pronghorn, Frontline Rep., Fall 2006 at 10, available at http://www.wyomingoutdoorcouncil.org/html/press_room/pdfs/Newsletters/2006Fall-FL.pdf (announcing release of DVD documenting pronghorn migrations).

[54] Fischman and Hyman note the lack of legal concern for migrations associated with species with abundant populations. Fischman & Hyman, supra note 13, at 175–76.

[55] See Press Release, Doris Duke Charitable Found., Doris Duke Charitable Foundation and Wildlife Conservation Society Announce New Funding and New Climate Adaptation Focus for Grants Program Supporting Conservation Projects Nationwide (Jan. 12, 2011), available at http://www.ddcf.org/Global/Environment/2011%20DDCF-WCS%20Press%20Release.pdf.

[56] The NEP concentrates its efforts in 28 coastal regions around the United States and provides grants and technical assistance for management and restoration purposes. U.S. Envtl. Prot. Agency, National Estuary Program (n.d.), available at http://water.epa.gov/
type/oceb/nep/upload/2009_12_23_estuaries_pdf_nep_brochure_timeless_new.pdf (booklet about NEP).

[57] NOAA’s NMSP focuses on 14 protected areas around the United States. Nat’l Marine Sanctuaries, Sanctuary Management 101, http://sanctuaries.noaa.gov/management/
mgt101.html (last visited Apr. 27, 2011). It provides staffing, funding, and planning processes that foster conservation and restoration activity. Id.

[58] Both programs provide offices and structures through which conservation work has been coordinated and carried out. Congress established EPA’s NEP in 1987 to provide funding and capacity to improve the water quality and biotic health of estuaries of national significance. U.S. Envtl. Prot. Agency, National Estuary Program, http://water.epa.gov/type/oceb/nep/index.cfm (last visited Apr. 27, 2011).

[59] Carole “Kniffy” Hamilton, Bridger-Teton Nat’l Forest, U.S. Forest Serv., Dep’t of Agric., Decision Notice & Finding of No Significant Impact: Pronghorn Migration Corridor Forest Plan Amendment (2008), available at http://www.fs.usda.gov/Internet/
FSE_DOCUMENTS/fsbdev3_063055.pdf

[60] Fotinos et al., supra note 20, at 166.

[61] Fischman & Hyman, supra note 13, at 215.

[62] Fotinos et al., supra note 20, at 240–41.

[63] Yaffee et al., supra note 5, at 31–33; see also Sheila K. Schueller, Ecosystem Mgmt. Initiative, Univ. of Mich., Trends in Collaborative Ecosystem Management: A Preliminary Report of EM 2003 Survey Results 32 (2004), available at http://www.snre.umich.edu/ecomgt/
research/em03_draft_results.pdf; Mark T. Brush et al., Recent Trends in Ecosystem Management 105–06 (Apr. 2000) (unpublished Master of Science project, University of Michigan), available at http://www.snre.umich.edu/ecomgt/pubs/documents/trends.pdf.

[64] Fotinos et al., supra note 20, at 237.

[65] Id. at 238.

[66] Id. at 240–42.

[67] Id. at 211–13.

[68] Id. at 241–42.

[69] Id. at 242 (quoting a February 24, 2009, personal communication from Jordan Vana of the GRVLT).

[70] See Chesapeake Bay Program, Monitoring, http://www.chesapeakebay.net/
monitoring.aspx?menuitem=19916 (last visited Mar. 2, 2011) (explaining that the Chesapeake Bay Watershed Program, a state-federal restoration partnership, monitors 19 physical, chemical, and biological characteristics twenty times per year); Comprehensive Everglades Restoration Plan, supra note 10, at 4 (Florida Everglades); Trinity River Restoration Program, supra note 10 (Trinity River in California).

[71] See Puget Sound P’ship, Strategic Science Plan 21 (2010), available at http://www.psp.wa.gov/downloads/SCIENCE/strategicscience_09_02_10.pdf; Shared Strategy for Puget Sound, An Introduction to the Shared Strategy 1 (n.d.), available at http://www.sharedsalmonstrategy.org/files/Intro%20to%20SSPS.pdf.

[72] See Comprehensive Everglades Restoration Plan, supra note 10, at 3 (demonstrating that the south Florida restoration program has exhibited most of these characteristics).

[73] Nat’l Ctr. for Ecological Analysis & Synthesis, Assessment of Information Needs for Ecosystem-Based Management of Coastal Marine Systems: Executive Summary 1 (2008), available at http://www.nceas.ucsb.edu/files/research/ebm/survey_execsum
_Oct2008.pdf.

[74] See, e.g., Gulf of Mex. Alliance, Governors’ Action Plan for Healthy and Resilient Coasts 4 (2006), available at http://gulfofmexicoalliance.org/pdfs/gap_final2.pdf; Everglades Forever, Restoring the Everglades Ecosystem, http://www.dep.state.fl.us/evergladesforever (last visited Mar. 7, 2011).

[75] The turtle’s migration includes habitat and stopovers in Alaska, Chile, Japan, and Mexico. See generally Jeffrey J. Polovina et al., Forage and Migration Habitat of Loggerhead (Caretta caretta) and Olive Ridley (Lepidochelys olivacea) Sea Turtles in the Central North Pacific Ocean, 13 Fisheries Oceanography 36, 36 (2004) (discussing turtle migration patterns).

[76] See Jeffrey B. Hyman, Andrea Need & W. William Weeks, Statutory Reform to Protect Migrations as Phenomena of Abundance, 41 Envtl. L. 407, 423–25, 441 (2011).

[77] W. Governors’ Ass’n, Policy Resolution 07-01, Protecting Wildlife Migration Corridors and Crucial Wildlife Habitat in the West (2007), available at http://www.blm.gov/
pqdata/etc/medialib/blm/wy/information/NEPA/pfodocs/anticline/revdr-comments/eg.Par.89268.
File.dat/02Bio-attach14.pdf; W. Governors’ Ass’n, Wildlife Corridors Initiative Oil and Gas Working Group Report 1 (2007), available at http://www.westgov.org/wga/publicat/
OilGas07.pdf.

[78] W. Governors’ Ass’n, Western Wildlife Habitat Council Established 5–6 (2008), available at http://www.westgov.org/wga/publicat/wildlife08.pdf.

[79] Monsters, Inc. (Disney & Pixar 2001).

[80] Wondolleck & Yaffee, supra note 5, at 177–79. Sometimes these individuals scream as much as the children facing monsters!

[81] See Brush et al., supra note 63, at 3, 49, 129 (describing the importance of NGOs, volunteers, and members of community groups to the long-term success of EBM).

[82] Selin & Chavez, supra note 17, at 191 (noting the importance of a strong leader or interested party to the success of a collaborative effort). Another study of successful collaborative efforts noted that

[e]very Great Group has a strong leader. This is one of the paradoxes of creative collaboration. Great Groups are made up of people with rare gifts working together as equals. Yet, in virtually every one there is one person who acts as maestro, organizing the genius of the others. . . .

. . . .

Within the group, the leader is often a good steward, keeping the others focused, eliminating distractions, keeping hope alive in the face of setbacks and stress.

Warren Bennis & Patricia Ward Biederman, Organizing Genius: The Secrets of Creative Collaboration 199–200 (1997).

[83] See supra Part IV.A.

[84] See Yaffee et al., supra note 5, at 18 (reporting that many project leaders “noted that it was imperative for the success of ecosystem management projects that all stakeholders be involved in development and implementation of project activities”); Brush et al., supra note 63, at 32–33 (detailing a research survey conducted by authors of 105 ecosystem management projects which found that, in 1999, 59% of the survey participants conducted education and outreach, and 68% collected new information to promote their project; additionally, 80% used existing state and federal programs, enabling them to “take advantage of interagency partnerships”).

[85] See Brush et al., supra note 63, at 23, 31–32 (describing a survey of project managers, in which many participants expressed support for pilot projects as a way to move beyond the planning stage and explaining that ecological restoration is usually only appropriate after certain milestones have been met).

[86] Id. at 93–94, 97; Schueller, supra note 63, at 31.

[87] See Brush et al., supra note 63, at 32–34 (noting that coordination with existing state and federal programs has been an important implementation tool for conservation groups); Schueller, supra note 63, at 22 (finding that the use of and coordination with existing programs was the most effective strategy in ecosystem management).

[88] Brush et al., supra note 63, at 68–70, 107–108; Schueller, supra note 63, at 28.

[89] Brush et al., supra note 63, at 77–78.

[90] See id. at 20–27, 76–77 (noting that successful procedural improvements, when combined with other social improvements, are often prerequisites to on-the-ground ecological action); see also Schueller, supra note 63, at 29 (finding that as scientific understanding and quality of monitoring data improve over time, so do ecosystem health and integrity).

[91] See Robert B. Keiter, Breaking Faith with Nature: The Bush Administration and Public Land Policy, 27 J. Land Resources & Envtl. L. 195, 196–97, 253 (2007).

[92] See George Cameron Coggins, Of Californicators, Quislings and Crazies: Some Perils of Devolved Collaboration, Chron. Community, Winter 1998, at 27, 28, 32; Neghin Modavi, Mediation of Environmental Conflicts in Hawaii: Win-Win or Co-Optation?, 39 Soc. Persp. 301, 305 (1996); see also Cary Coglianese, The Limits of Consensus: The Environmental Protection System in Transition – Toward a More Desirable Future, Environment, Apr. 1999, at 28, 31–32 (1999) (detailing the several procedural deficiencies in collaborative processes that diminish the effectiveness of the outcomes reached).

[93] See Michael McCloskey, The Skeptic: Collaboration Has Its Limits, High Country News, May 13, 1996, at 7; Martin A. Nie, Beyond the Wolves: The Politics of Wolf Recovery and Management 163 (Univ. of Minn. Press, 2003).

[94] Steven L. Yaffee, Collaborative Decision Making, in 1 The Endangered Species Act at Thirty 208, 210 (Dale D. Goble, J. Michael Scott & Frank W. Davis eds., 2006).

[95] For example, salmon recovery efforts have received a large share of restoration dollars. Kareiva et al. estimated from U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service reports that 400 endangered species shared $4 million in support in 1995, while four salmon species received over $100 million in the same year. Peter Kareiva et al., Nongovernmental Organizations, in 1 The Endangered Species Act at Thirty, supra note 94, at 176, 190. Major Puget Sound-wide efforts called Shared Strategy for Puget Sound and its successor, the Puget Sound Partnership, have been motivated by the regulatory uncertainty associated with listings of different runs of salmon. As the Shared Strategy website notes,

In 1999, the Endangered Species Act (ESA) listings of the Chinook salmon, summer chum, and bull trout in Puget Sound brought a growing crisis to the forefront in the Pacific Northwest. Taking action to protect salmon, Federal, state, tribal and local government, along with various industries, initiated a collaborative effort to develop a long-term plan for salmon recovery in Puget Sound.

Shared Strategy for Puget Sound, Puget Sound Salmon Recovery Plan, http://www.sharedsalmonstrategy.org/plan (last visited Apr. 16, 2010).

[96] Incentives to collaborate have impact in part due to what potential collaborators experience without the collaboration. In negotiation terminology, this condition is their Best Alternative to a Negotiated Agreement (BATNA). An unattractive BATNA will motivate negotiation and collaboration. See Roger Fisher & William Ury, Getting to Yes: Negotiating Agreement Without Giving In 104, 110 (Bruce Patton ed., 1981).

[97] The mandate to protect biodiversity through forest planning may be an example of this kind of guidance. See National Forest Management Act of 1976, 16 U.S.C. § 1604(g)(3)(B) (2006). For further discussion of how such a legal mandate may be crafted to protect migrations, see Hyman, Need & Weeks, supra note 76, at 413.

[98] The Federal Advisory Committee Act is an example of a set of procedures that were established to guard against inappropriate collaboration, yet do little to promote effective collaboration. See Public Participation in Environmental Decision-Making and the Federal Advisory Committee Act: Testimony Before the H. Comm. on Gov’t Reform and Oversight, 105th Cong. 6–7 (1998) (statement of J. Clarence Davies, Dir. of Ctr. for Risk Mgmt.), available at http://www.rff.org/rff/Documents/RFF-CTst-98-davies.pdf.

[99] W.K. Kellogg Found., Logic Model Development Guide 10–11, 49 (2004), available at http://www.wkkf.org/~/media/6E35F79692704AA0ADCC8C3017200208.ashx.

[100] See id. at 45.

Habitat Reserve Problem-Solving: Desperately Seeking Sophisticated Intermediaries

Habitat Reserve Problem-Solving: Desperately Seeking Sophisticated Intermediaries

By

Jamison Colburn*

In 2001, some 137 Pennsylvania communities across a dozen counties joined with the Audubon Society and dozens of other nonprofit organizations in an umbrella coalition of citizens alarmed by what they saw as the gradual destruction of one of the most significant wildlife habitat strongholds in the Northeast: the Kittatinny Ridge. Kittatinny, the “endless mountain” to the Leni-Lenape tribes that once inhabited the region, links New Jersey, Pennsylvania, and Virginia—supplying the mountain ridges on which the Appalachian National Scenic Trail unfolds, separating the plains of southeastern Pennsylvania from its ridge and valley regions to the north and west. Today, its more than 500 square miles traversing Pennsylvania are recognized as a globally significant migratory flyway that aids scores of migrant species in spring and fall, and supplies interior forest habitat to many more year-round.

The Kittatinny Coalition (KC) works from a common plan for the permanent conservation of the ridge as forested space. Some members are local land trusts that collect fee and sub-fee interests in real property to be held for conservation purposes. Other members supply needed technical assistance on animal behavior, habitat needs, watershed protection, etc. Still other members help build the KC’s continuously improving Geographic Information System (GIS), a potentially significant conservation tool in its own right. Among the several challenges that have arisen since the KC emerged, none has been more challenging than goal setting and prioritization; specifically, the sorting of goals on a species-by-species or other basis which would allow the development of a comprehensive management plan, enabling the KC to identify high-priority areas for limited conservation funds and improve its corridors’ connectivity, functionality, and resilience. Because of the diverse interests of its members, entities like the KC face a crisis of identity and risk the loss of their pooled assets to an over-abundance of low-value, low-impact conservation actions that are not appropriately prioritized or optimized for wider, landscape-scale objectives. In this Article, I will sketch some of the ways in which the fragmentative influences of conservation law lock entities like the KC into the horns of its dilemma as well as some ways in which the law should help entities like the KC scale up their (and our) conservation strategies and actions.

I. Introduction

Coalitions, partnerships, and cooperation will always be the future of conservation. For now there is disagreement, distrust, and dissonance within the myriad and constantly-shifting arrangements we have improvised in the hopes of leveraging conservation beyond its present means. In this Article, I explore some of the problems of cooperative conservation and the obstacles that local and regional actors face today as they strive to achieve broader-scale conservation successes. The Kittatinny Ridge, an “endless mountain” to the tribes that inhabited eastern and central Pennsylvania, links New Jersey and Pennsylvania to the hills of Maryland and Virginia in a vast corridor of forested acres totaling over 500 square miles.[1] It is one of the most impressive expanses of forested space in the urbanized landscapes east of the Mississippi and it is under constant threat of more fragmentation, conversion, and degradation—whether as wildlife habitat, watershed protection, or just plain scenery.[2] The Kittatinny serves multiple functions to resident and migratory wildlife while at the same time being home, if defined broadly, to more than a million and a half people.[3] In fact, its scale is its principal challenge: it is neither local nor national nor even statewide in scale; it is regional and corridor-like.[4] Preserving its integrity, therefore, begins as an extraordinary challenge and gets harder from there.

Our liberalism, we cannot forget, entrenches an often problematic distinction between public and private, feeding what, at times, has been a rather neurotic fixation on keeping government in its place. Property in land has long been a key currency within this distinction, for good and for ill. So-called private property has been one of the bluntest instruments for ending debates about the social responsibilities we all have to take care of our common resources and of each other.[5] Conservationists take this distinction largely as they find it,[6] although the array of public/private ventures testing this boundary today is vast and still expanding.[7] Public and private have become so intertwined in some of these projects that the distinction is almost overcome.

Bending the traditional categories is a growing array of organizational makeshifts—umbrella groups that join public and private actors into nominally cooperative entities that take their actions together.[8] One of these experiments, the Kittatinny Coalition (KC), is my focus here. The KC has brought together local, regional, and national land trusts; local and state conservation agencies and advisors; major environmental nonprofits; wildlife affinity groups; wildlife scientists; and educators.[9] All of them agreed to act jointly to conserve the ridge without truly having to specify what that mission entails, what their conservation priorities are, or how to do it.[10] This Article considers the KC as an example of a habitat problem-solving intermediary that emerged several years ago, only to fall on hard times and indecision. Part II details the standard tools of conservation today. Part III describes the “braiding” of the different legal regimes that have locked these conservation tools into certain predictable but troubling patterns. Finally, Part IV suggests some work-arounds for those locked into these now familiar traps in conservation politics.

II. Public, Private, and Cooperative Conservation: The Toolbox Today

Much as we have tried to establish a regulatory safety net, conservation in America is intimately bound up with ownership and will probably stay that way.[11] Stewarding owned resources, therefore, constitutes a big part of conservation’s immediate future. Indeed, the vast majority of what we recognize as conservation is the supposed protection of the land community through possessory stewardship—not regulatory controls that coerce people to conserve.[12] For example, our governments of plenary power—the states—for many years were supposed to have inherited the wildlife within their boundaries from the Crown.[13] And over the arc of American history, states shifted from managing their wildlife for exploitation to managing the same wildlife for its relative scarcity.[14] Of course, states’ ownership of their wildlife has been a fiction at most—but it has been a very salient and enduring fiction.[15] As the presumptive regulators of wildlife, states are hard to displace, politically. In addition, because state governments are so protective of landowner sovereignty and responsive to landowner concerns (at least normally), the status quo has been the under-protection of wildlife by states. Thus, only in its very recent past did American wildlife law take habitat loss and disturbance seriously at all.

Throughout its evolution, the structure of federal (and most state) wildlife law has remained surprisingly constant. First, what focus there has been on habitat has overwhelmingly taken the form of public lands acquisition (or retention).[16] Without public land, there has been precious little public attention paid to biodiversity in land use governance.[17] Second, when habitat has prompted controls on private property, the biota protected have overwhelmingly skewed toward what biologists know as charismatic megafauna—not intact species assemblages or natural processes and cycles.[18] Pennsylvania is exceptional in the northeast for the number and extent of its public land set-asides, although many of these have been managed for game species like deer and elk.[19] Finally, the law has done little to curb the introduction or release of invasive species and it has almost never provided the capital needed for other rehabilitative work at landscape scales.[20] So-called novel ecosystems are, therefore, increasingly the norm.[21] Nevertheless, federal (and most state) wildlife habitat law has directed its agents to engage in comprehensive conservation planning while at the same time saddling them with judicially enforceable duties to protect discrete, individual species and populations that are demonstrably imperiled. Migrations are playing a slowly but unmistakably growing role in that planning today, even as the action- and location-specific tasks accumulate and fill these agencies’ backlogs.[22] This Part outlines the rise and solidification of our public, private, and hybrid conservation tools of today.

A. Conservation’s Structural Turn Toward the Private

When it took shape in 1973, the Endangered Species Act (ESA)[23] was envisioned as legislation to address and even perhaps solve the conservation crisis we were just then noticing—at least within the confines of U.S. jurisdiction.[24] Since then, we have learned that federal legislation alone will accomplish no such thing. Today the ESA remains the exemplar of our “strictly science” federal conservation laws.[25] Yet, paradoxically, it is the very tool showing how ill-adapted our multi-agency state has become to the real problems of biodiversity loss and the applied science of conservation biology.[26] The agencies charged with its implementation are desperately under-resourced.[27] Yet they still may only set land use restrictions when they can document the presence of a listed species, and then only to the extent that the few use restrictions they are empowered to impose have the support of the “best available scientific and commercial data.”[28] These agencies face constant rule of law challenges to their plans and actions brought by aggrieved stakeholders, local communities, and interested citizens.[29] Thus, no matter their standard of care, the very structure of their authority—the ESA’s moral stakes, procedural rigidity, and atomistic focus on particular taxa—embeds the public’s conservation agents in legal conflict, deterring the very kinds of deliberation and collaboration they must sustain to succeed.[30]

To be sure, without listed species present, habitat degradation has typically been marginalized in our land use planning.[31] ESA section 9 prohibits anyone within the jurisdiction of the United States from killing or bringing “harm” to listed species.[32] The agencies’ administrative definition of “harm” limits the prohibition to action, “including habitat modification, which actually kills or injures wildlife.”[33] Proof burdens being what they are, though, enforcement personnel face an acute resource problem in minimizing the harm that comes to listed taxa or their designated critical habitats.[34] Having to prove that any discrete action was the legal cause of the complained-of harm deters enforcers in all but a vanishingly small number of contexts.[35]

There is, therefore, a broader truth here about prohibitive norms and land conservation: the scarcity of public investment prevents them from being, at least at the federal level, “a means whereby the ecosystems upon which endangered species and threatened species depend may be conserved.”[36] ESA section 7 and a few of its state analogues specifically prohibit the government from authorizing or carrying out any “destruction or adverse modification” of any listed species’s designated “critical habitat.”[37] But this prohibition governs only a small (and shrinking) list of actors[38] and, in all events, critical habitat designations have become twisted knots of regulatory politics unto themselves.[39] The ESA requires that, concurrent with the listing of an imperiled species, the federal government “shall designate critical habitat . . . on the basis of the best scientific data available and after taking into consideration the economic impact . . . and any other relevant impact, of specifying any particular area as critical habitat.”[40] Yet, if it deems the costs too high to landowners within the “geographical area occupied by the species, at the time it is listed,”[41] the government can simply elect not to designate private lands.[42] And as stakeholders and courts clarify the diversity of ways in which habitat actually suffers “adverse modification” from traditional land uses,[43] the resource-starved agencies have a growing incentive not to designate any more habitat than they absolutely must. Restoration of species long extirpated locally, and even perhaps the protection of lands for migrations long ago lost, are normally beyond the pale.[44] The Fish and Wildlife Service (FWS) and the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) (collectively, the Services)[45] have said they will seek to restore historically occupied habitat to the range of a species “only when a designation limited to its present range would be inadequate to ensure the conservation of the species.”[46] As the evidence on migrations to date confirms, this is an extremely tricky threshold to identify as a practical matter[47] and a rather compromised and cynical one as a normative matter.[48]

It is perhaps not surprising, then, that the Kittatinny Ridge has virtually no designated critical habitat today and is, in fact, virtually invisible to federal wildlife law.[49] A great deal of wildlife habitat critical to migrations and migratory species is like the Kittatinny in this respect.[50] Federal road projects—Interstate highway 81 traces many of its 234 Pennsylvania miles along the ridge, for example—are perhaps the only consistent trigger of any federal conservation responsibilities under federal law.[51] Like any part of our landscape that is long-disturbed—subject to farming, logging, urbanization, or other forms of cultivation long before 1973—much of the Kittatinny Ridge is normally occupied by species that have adapted to human disturbance in substantial ways.[52] We might say that forests like those along the Kittatinny Ridge are simply not extraordinary enough to garner much attention from federal conservation law.

The “harm” prohibition in particular and the geography of listing more generally yield a specific insight into regulatory habitat protection. Because it is only the exceptional constituents of nature that trigger federal (and most state) land use controls,[53] our administrative agencies are now used to viewing local land use authorities as obstacles to—not as essential elements of—their land planning and conservation actions.[54] The statutory authorities that empower state and federal agencies to control land uses, especially on private land, skew toward the special, thereby excluding the ordinary. As a result, these authorities encourage the balancing of local and regional conservation efforts in lieu of federal action. Because no place is more ordinary in this sense than the northeastern United States, and because no place has seen a developing conservation community for longer, places like the Kittatinny Ridge should be cooperative conservation’s ground zero.[55] But it is in environments of this kind that conservation is at its weakest.[56] In places like the Kittatinny Ridge—where the thinning of wildlife began generations ago, fire has been suppressed for centuries, and much of what remains is adapted to traditional multiple use—wildlife habitat protection law tends to be more of a distraction than anything else.[57] It distracts people and chills the relationships that might lead to more collaboration and more bridging of the familiar gaps in our land use politics.[58] In this environment, conservationists have to struggle just to interpret their own designs and goals. Conservation in this environment is much more a question of experiments in landscape restoration than it is in maintaining some status quo. Yet restoration often entails ambitious biological and physical manipulations, not to mention protecting adequate landscape permeability, that is, the properties that make landscapes traversable for species and natural forces.[59] For these goals, federal (and most state) imperiled species law is increasingly irrelevant.[60]

To read most analyses of the law of biodiversity, one would think public lands are the solution to this obvious gap in the available tools. The facts, however, suggest otherwise. The major federal public lands systems and the statutes governing them have been shaped to fit other priorities,[61] and the potential connectivity between public lands as habitat is, as a rule, very low.[62] Indeed, according to analyses of these systems keyed to conservation values, crippling deficiencies are the norm, especially east of the Rockies.[63] The Kittatinny Ridge is no exception. Along the Kittatinny Ridge, in fact, public lands owned outright are the rare exception and will remain that way as long as public acquisition remains both prohibitively expensive and politically toxic.[64] The National Park Service (NPS) administers a narrow strip down the spine of the ridge on either side of the Appalachian Trail, and it administers the Delaware Water Gap National Recreation Area at the ridge’s northern reaches.[65] The federal government operates the Fort Indiantown Gap National Guard Training Site.[66] Otherwise, the only public lands of spatial significance are Pennsylvania’s highly dispersed collection of state game lands, state parks, and state forests—of which there are over a dozen units along the Kittatinny Ridge broadly defined.[67] Thus, linking the public lands together to make more continuous, permeable landscapes is a task for someone other than the government’s stewards of existing public lands. And as the nonprofit sector has scaled up, it has become the driving force for habitat conservation in this region, as in most others.[68]

With sprawl so menacing a threat to the conservationists along the 185 mile long Kittatinny Ridge[69] and with no reconstitution of our privatist land ethic in sight, there has been a growing urgency to state, local, and private capital campaigns to acquire more conservation land. Acquisitions of this kind are most often justified as protections of the ridge’s “ecosystem services.”[70] Indeed, with the rise of the green infrastructure movement, a steady infusion of state and local capital—both financial and human—has come to the region’s conservation circles over the last decade.[71] But there are other threats besides sprawl (itself an umbrella term with many meanings), and their salience and significance vary among KC members. For example, much of the coalition defines the overabundance of white-tailed deer—which are browsing Pennsylvania forests into completely altered environments[72]—as a threat to the resource.[73] Not all members share that view, though.[74] White-tailed deer have often been managed to hyper-abundance by state wildlife regulators, much to the appreciation of sportsmen’s groups.[75] As another example, the Kittatinny boasts more than a dozen significant bird-watching locations where birders watch migrating raptors and other species each fall.[76] But what could land use changes do to disrupt this migration? The evidence on hand today is rather inconclusive; there apparently will never be the equivalent of the newly constructed rancher’s fence that killed several hundred migrating pronghorn in the 1980s.[77] But even the smallest changes in land use can affect the ridge’s functionality as interior forest habitat for resident species. The ridge’s role in avian migration is a biophysical question entirely apart from a more general need for large forested areas.

The protection of migrations and migrating species present this dilemma rather squarely. What might pass superficially for an agreed-upon set of priorities across a landscape (and the immense ridge/corridor of the Kittatinny is emblematic here) can easily fracture when the specific questions of a firm conservation plan arises—especially one that is spatially explicit, institutionally specified, and politically strategized.[78] One of the principal goals supposedly shared by all the many actors along the Kittatinny Ridge is to enhance the public’s recognition of the Ridge’s value to its communities.[79] So-called green infrastructure may be the most serviceable moniker to that end.[80] Even if all can agree that the ridge’s green infrastructure is worth preserving, though, the question eventually arises: at which locations is it most in jeopardy? Even assuming the piecemeal acquisition, one parcel at a time, of at-risk lands before they can be subdivided and urbanized is the goal, and that donated capital is its principal means, the pervasive opportunity costs that donors face will eventually influence the decisions.[81] Furthermore, many conservationists disagree passionately over the precise role of “limited development” and whether it ought to be welcomed as an alternative to unplanned and/or dispersed subdivision-driven development.[82] The spatially haphazard distribution of subdivision-driven development can turn the nominal contributors to the KC into real time competitors for scarce public attention, financial and human capital, and governmental support.[83] Even supposing broader consensus on priorities can be achieved, the spatial targeting necessitated by scarcities of capital often makes it impossible to strategize rationally.[84] The KC is no exception on this point: if the KC or its members have the requisite competence to choose projects wisely or to engineer good conservation development schemes collectively, it remains to be seen in practice.[85]

Of course, the tool that has come to dominate all others, given its relative precision, scalability, and affordability, is the conservation easement.[86] Indeed, for years now conservation nonprofits’ over-use of conservation easements has provoked words of caution.[87] For novel property interests that have yet to be tested in court much, conservation easements are shaping up to be a major variable in conservation politics in the coming century.[88] The KC, like other similar groups, has identified the acquisition of conservation easements as one of its chief conservation objectives.[89] But how should an entity like the KC—which, at its inception, exists only on paper—identify and target the highest value acquisitions first, acquire only that land (or those interests in land) that ought to be acquired and can be stewarded, and keep all of its constituent parts working together toward their common ends? Assessing the available tools is a key step in answering that question.

Conservation easements are creations of legislation—at common law, most would have been unenforceable[90]—and forty-nine of the fifty states have adopted some form of enabling legislation over the last half-century.[91] According to most such statutes, these easements are interests in real property;[92] they run with the land, binding subsequent owners like any servitude;[93] and they can be purchased for value.[94] We all know the impressive growth in scale and scope of organizations like The Nature Conservancy (TNC) and the Trust for Public Land (TPL).[95] Almost as widely noted have been the hundreds of local land trusts that have proliferated in the last decade—numbering over 1600 in the 2005 Land Trust Alliance census.[96] But the conservation of lands that are at risk of sale and subdivision in places like the Kittatinny (even after the 2008 recession and collapse of so many real estate markets) can quickly consume the available capital, even if all the resources of these organizations could be combined.[97] And the sad fact is that the pooling of resources by groups like TNC, TPL, and local land trusts is actively discouraged by existing law. This is because the tax treatment of conservation easements and the nonprofit status of the organizations acquiring them are just as important as the status of the easements under a state’s real property law.[98] Thus, to an increasing extent, the Internal Revenue Service (IRS) sets the terms and conditions of this playing field. Furthermore, lately IRS has been under pressure to identify and eradicate perceived abuses.[99]

Groups like TNC and its local analogues purchasing land and sub-fee interests in land from willing sellers and/or donors are driving an on-going transformation of our conservation politics.  Whether by fee simple or through some kind of sub-fee interest to better leverage limited capital, these organizations are the leading edge of conservation’s privatization today.[100] Fairfax and many others link this turn to neoconservative attacks on the regulatory state.[101] Whatever its causes, it is bringing us an unmistakably more private conservationism. Today, more than 1600 local land trusts nationwide that gather conservation easements and other interests in land are at work across landscapes like the Kittatinny.[102] But their work is increasingly opaque, increasingly shielded from meaningful public scrutiny, and increasingly under the scrutiny of blunt instruments like IRS—and this may wind up being their Achilles’ heel.[103] Of course, finding limited capital is often viewed as the solution to conservation problems, especially at a regional level.[104] But this is too simple by half. Acquisition of these interests is not only the beginning of a sometimes burdensome stewardship obligation. It can also be the dissipation or deconcentration of scarce conservation resources like financial and human capital.[105]

Spatially explicit planning with a parcel map, priorities that are express and widely agreed upon, and agendas that fit the relevant local governments’ zoning ordinances (instead of, as is more common, fighting them) remain rare.[106] Thus, as I have argued in the pages of this journal before, property acquisitions and private planning do not represent just a shift in tactics.[107] They are changing the polarities of conservation as a practical political endeavor.[108] Private property, even when it is managed to provide a public good like habitat or watershed integrity, is still private property.[109] Its managers need never weather the exacting scrutiny that is constantly focused upon the actions of administrative agencies like NPS or FWS.[110] And without the right mechanisms of accountability, private deals employing private conservation tools can be of dubious merit, can be used to conceal sham transactions and self-dealing, and can even be contrary to the public interest.[111] To date, the principal remedy for these risks has been IRS.[112] IRS supervision presents a number of challenges, though. Going forward, IRS’s indirect management of privatized conservation—through its scrutiny of tax-exempt statuses or of particular deals—should be a major issue for conservationists. Part III examines IRS’s role in more detail.

Finally, the concerned citizens who are willing to pay to protect nature can paradoxically drive up the price of their own consumption.[113] As more complex, finer-grained mosaics of public and private ownership emerge,[114] the individual strategies driving deals become ever more complex and contingent.[115] Yet, the success of these strategies is ever more important to broader scale conservation successes.[116] For even the most impressive conservation acquisitions are always separated by still more unprotected land that is fragmented in ownership, of declining value as timber or farmland, beset by invasive species and other systemic disturbances, and often close enough to conservation land that its value as a target of residential developers increases.[117]

This all frames one simple conclusion: conservation acquisitions in themselves cannot constitute a complete, regional-scale strategy for places like the Kittatinny Ridge.[118] As conservationists scale up their ambitions and seek to protect a resource the size of the Kittatinny Ridge, they must inevitably prioritize. Each ordering decision is a moment for deliberation about both means and ends. A question thus arises: Why have we not seen more innovation and experimentation in the forms of cooperation and coordination toward conservation’s broader-scaled ends?

B. Why Not More Innovation in Form?

Over a century ago, the Trustees of Public Reservations (Trustees) (later renamed to remove doubt about the group’s legal status)[119] was founded to serve as an advocate of conservation and landscape planning in Massachusetts.[120] The Trustees viewed the Gilded Age’s explosion of urbanization much the same way that the land trusts of today view sprawl.[121] Whatever its architects’ original vision, the Trustees soon pioneered the modern land trust of today: “Most of the things that land trusts do by way of planning, inventorying desirable natural areas, fund-raising, cooperating with government, establishing local committees to steward preserves and later adding professional stewardship staff, restoration of damaged ecosystems, and providing educational programs were anticipated by the Trustees.”[122] Indeed, after an era in which the publicly-owned conservation lands of the United States were denounced as costly, contentious, and biologically unstable, so-called private conservation entered a boom period.[123] Yet, almost a century after the Trustees were organized and set in motion, private conservation’s boom consisted mostly of exactly the same institutional forms pioneered a century before. Local land trusts, TNC, TPL, and most other conservation firms are veritable clones of the Trustees.[124] With the exception of the new servitude form—the conservation easement—and various tax subsidies, the law has done little to evolve with or to enhance private conservation’s improvisations today.[125] Why hasn’t there been more innovation in the legal forms of private conservation in the century since it began?

From 1998 to 2002, some 500 state and local ballot measures allocated more that $20 billion to land conservation.[126] During that same period, however, the ten largest real estate developers in the nation developed some $120 billion worth of land.[127] Fueling this sustained push for more and more local conservation and local land trusts has been the fragmentative process of land subdivision and development itself. Exurbia is hard to describe accurately. One criterion stands out, though: the ongoing subdivision of land and low-density urbanization. Exurbia’s threatening undertones—farms and ranches turned into cul-de-sacs, transmission corridors, and roads—have, of course, played a major role in the rise of the land trust movement and its gravitation toward the conservation easement.[128] A principal driver is the fact that land trusts, like their public counterparts who conserve land by local land use regulation, must do so one parcel at a time, reacting to local land markets that are, at best, rather unpredictable. Whatever larger scale organizations and coordination on behalf of migrations and migratory species we can achieve must be built on the substantial energy and pluck of land trusts and local public conservation movements. As a result, our dilemma is this: How do we organize that which is always inchoate, reactive, and largely place-based? Part III argues that the current institutions overseeing local and private conservation’s expansions and intermixtures are not at all competent to recognize their needs or their obstacles. Consequently, they will not by themselves enable broader scale cooperation or the sorts of innovations needed.

III. Identity Crisis: Landscape-Scale Conservation from the Bottom Up

Tales of pocket preserves and easements on golf courses have drawn IRS into an increasingly skeptical posture toward conservation easements and other private acquisitions on behalf of nominally public causes.[129] IRS’s problem, and ours, is the stunning array of conservation purposes and interests in land that are arising in this era of privatized conservation. This Part argues that if more coordination and collaboration among the atomized actors of this movement are to be had, it will have to be pushed by a new class of intermediaries that possess the depth of field, personnel, and competence to do so. As the law is evolving today, though, these intermediaries face virtually insurmountable obstacles.

A. The Braiding of Property, Tax, Corporate, and Land Use Planning Law

After a series of exposé-style stories on the putative abuses of conservation donations by TNC and others, as well as a prolonged Senate Finance Committee investigation into the tax exemption for qualified conservation donations,[130] IRS has worked diligently on making credible threats that the conservation world’s tax cheats will be caught.[131] IRS’s problem (and ours) is that society wishes to encourage the donation of property for conservation, but its chosen means of doing so have two major drawbacks. First, many conservation “donations” entail high monitoring and enforcement costs.[132] Second, the more IRS invests in monitoring and enforcing its rules on “qualified” conservation contributions, the more it chills the very sort of experimentation and problem solving we need most. The nonprofit world knows that tax-exempt status is no longer a given. Indeed, “If, as Chief Justice John Marshall wrote, ‘. . . the power to tax involves the power to destroy,’ then the power to exempt from tax presents the opportunity to intimidate, harass and bully.”[133] Thus, if we are going to support the limited purpose multi-scalar partnerships that migrations and migratory species increasingly require—partnerships that intertwine the collective efforts of nonprofits, local land use authorities, and developers—we should start with the laws that most drive the partnering behavior: the tax law and practice of conservation deals, the law of nonprofit corporate governance, and the land use plans and processes in exurbia.

Before 1980, conservation donations were relatively rare.[134] With the enactment of Internal Revenue Code section 170(h), though, IRS was thrust into the role of sorting out the “good” from the “bad” conservation deals—those that ought to be subsidized and those that ought not to be.[135] Today, IRS’s superintendence of the qualifications on the deduction of sub-fee donations has never been more important and never more assiduously monitored. Yet IRS has refused to adapt to this mission. It has gathered neither the institutional competence nor the bureaucratic will to process the necessary biological and ecological details. These details determine whether conservation purposes that must be fulfilled in perpetuity make sense given the interests changing hands. Not surprisingly, a decision tree constructed from IRS’s interpretive rule on qualified conservation contributions is a tangled mess requiring a plethora of complex judgments about conservation value[136]—none of which fall into IRS’s special competence of tax administration.[137] Of course, each of these judgments is to be made by taxpayers in the first instance, subject to IRS review. IRS knows it must prevent abuse but it lacks the competence to distinguish the abuse from shrewd conservation work under extreme resource constraints. If and when IRS denies or challenges a deduction—or even issues a guidance document suggesting that it will do so at some future point—it makes splash headlines in the conservation community.[138] Because of their complexity, the tax code and IRS regulations cast a shadow over innovations in conservation dealmaking.[139]

Recent court cases, including Glass v. Commissioner,[140] Turner v. Commissioner,[141] and McLennan v. United States,[142] all demonstrate the basic point: sorting out the adequate from the inadequate conservation donation can be a rather onerous affair.[143] Conservation deals that intertwine donative property transfers with for-value transactions start off under an air of suspicion.[144] Developers are disfavored by the tax code’s treatment of donations even when they seek to partner with land trusts or other charitable organizations.[145] Section 170(h) is literally designed to withhold tax advantage from conservation development. Thus, more than just treading carefully, land trusts, municipalities, and others without access to sophisticated legal counsel often labor under paralyzing uncertainties about the tax implications of their conservation plans.[146] These uncertainties are aggregating into significant pressures against needed experimentation with, and deliberate adaptations of, forms involving for-profit enterprises.[147]

When these uncertainties are paired with the idiosyncratic property interests that most easement-enabling statutes permit today,[148] the information costs of the median conservation deal swell, often to excess.[149] Unlike most interests in real property, conservation easements do not come “off the rack.” They are subject to virtually unlimited tailoring—tailoring that the Uniform Conservation Easement Act itself encouraged.[150] The result is that as more individually tailored deals take place, each involving a slightly different interest with its own character-determinative idiosyncrasies, the information costs rise for those who would bundle them into bigger plans—or who would unbundle them in order to sort the figurative wheat from the chaff.[151]

When individual assets and their bottom-line values become opaque, probabilities diminish that subsequent purchasers will have the knowledge they need to acquire or avoid them rationally.[152] These high information costs have increasingly troubling implications for local land use planners, who too must set and adjust a community’s long term land use goals too often with insufficient knowledge of private conservation planners’ investments or future intentions.[153] In business today, this kind of uncertainty has given rise to a variety of compensatory strategies.[154] But with the same information costs rising in the public sector, the only practical step for those would scale up from the mostly local actions being taken today in areas like the Kittatiny[155] is the use of intermediaries with the depth of personnel, experience, and expertise needed to recognize, categorize, and bundle or unbundle the property interests in question—perhaps even trading some in exchange for others.[156]

Conservation organizations today are overwhelmingly of a single organizational kind: the so-called 501(c)(3) nonprofit corporation.[157] These entities are a function, again, of the Internal Revenue Code, IRS rules and regulations, and the variety of state laws on incorporation and corporate governance across the fifty states, all interacting as a system.[158] To maintain its nonprofit status—which is an extremely valuable sort of government forebearance to most conservation organizations[159]—the average conservancy must cope with the stealth preemption of state corporate governance law IRS has been carrying out in the name of good governance for the better part of a decade.[160] While stealth preemption is a concern on a number of grounds, it would not necessarily have implications for conservation without IRS’s own relative incompetence again informing the picture.

What expertise has IRS to sort out well-governed conservation entities from those organized to invite fraud, abuse, or other malfeasance? Admittedly, tax sheltering as a practice crosses social and economic boundaries.[161] But in this particular field, someone must first say what is or is not a bona fide conservation purpose—and that is a decision for someone other than IRS. Moreover, the legal fiction of corporate form can be deceptive: entities that are not for profit are held in our collective esteem in ways mostly unrelated to their actual behavior.[162] Many 501(c)(3) corporate entities make and break fortunes, provide billions of dollars in goods and services annually, and transact business irrespective of their ostensibly charitable purposes.[163] But, while IRS may intend to preserve appearances and ensure some minimal standards of conduct in return for being left untaxed,[164] the norms it is attempting to establish are equivocal at best.[165] Indeed, whether IRS or states’ Attorneys General try to impose standards on conservation nonprofits, the tools available for doing so are blunt instruments.[166] They cast long shadows upon exactly the sort of organizational experimentation that conservation so desperately needs for goals like protecting migrations and migratory species.

In an intermixed landscape with a legacy of what we might call spot-market—that is, opportunistic—conservation by local land trusts and others, consolidating larger blocks or corridors of protected space may entail exchanging lands or waters already acquired (or encumbered with easements) for lands or waters that are still unprotected.[167] A large-scale nonprofit organization like TNC or TPL that wished to serve as an intermediary brokering the exchange of conservation properties, local development permissions, and presently unburdened lands faces daunting obstacles today. Besides at least inviting an IRS audit of any donors whose deductions were involved,[168] such an organization might very well jeopardize its own nonprofit status.[169] Tax penalties are notoriously unpredictable and the courts have repeatedly upheld IRS’s authority to govern by example.[170] As a result, IRS stands in the way of innovative and necessary advances in conservation strategy.

For example, as to any given transaction, IRS has said that, “If the donor (or a related person) reasonably can expect to receive financial or economic benefits greater than those that will inure to the general public as a result of the donation of a conservation easement, no deduction is allowable.”[171] Thus, assuming any conservation easements involved in a transaction could actually be reformed or otherwise amended (whether through cy pres or some other avenue),[172] the tax uncertainties of an innovative deal are enough to chill all but the most determined. The inherent ambiguity of the term “related person,” coupled with IRS’s failure to define it further, creates a situation in which the tax uncertainties for the relevant parties—intermediaries, developers, and local land trusts—outweigh the benefits of innovative transactions. It would be a fool’s errand to try to substantiate the benefits that “inure to the general public” in excess of benefits to the broker or any “related person” in such a transaction.[173]

So long as conservation properties are donated principally in the forms envisioned by IRS to nonprofit organizations that principally take the form envisioned by IRS, landscape-scale deals that trade one currency (local zoning or other land use permissions, for example) for another (the tax advantages of a conservation easement reducing the taxable net worth of real property, for example)—even those that clearly serve conservation purposes—will remain suspect. Thus, the ad hoc partnerships that form in place and stumble toward such goals will arise only accidentally. A conservancy would make a foolish error to actively seek out donors by reminding them of the tax benefits of their donations, just as any firm like TNC or TPL would have to be rather risk-prone to provide counsel or assistance in areas so close to tax fraud and corporate malfeasance.[174] Part III.B examines the substance of these ad hoc partnerships as they are presently formed and dissolved.

B. What Are Cooperative Ventures in Law, Really?

The grey market in bundling and unbundling conservation deals to achieve broader-scale purposes like the protection of the Kittatinny Ridge is patterned to some extent by the equivocal legal norms on point today. To a great extent, the equivocations come down to two sources: first, the Internal Revenue Code and IRS, and second, the non-standard interests in land being created under the immense conservation easement tent that we erected starting in the 1980s. I have argued to this point that reducing these uncertainties could spark real expansions in this market and that actors like IRS ought to consider as much.[175] Taken in broader perspective, though, the joint and cooperative ventures of today represent so many experiments—and perhaps some extraordinary opportunities. For as these distinctly interested and structured legal entities partner with one another, pool their information, and search for common ground, they are each able to learn from their experiences—to learn by doing, so to speak.[176] As Professor Yaffee and colleagues have documented, collaboration among different interests toward broad scale consensus and ends like ecosystem management tends to proceed through life stages, paced by various drivers and prompts, and can either sizzle or fizzle.[177] Without the right external pressures, the latter seems more likely.[178] And, along the Kittatinny ridge (like many other places),[179] federal regulatory prompts are absent and will probably remain so.[180]

Accelerating these processes at broader scales may therefore require that some agent actively pool the experiences of individual actors and enable each of them to learn by monitoring, so to speak. Encouraging learning by monitoring is one of the principal advantages of noncentralized systems that allow difference and diversity.[181] Unfortunately, few agents capable of such information-gathering exist today.[182] The pooling of real-time, spatially explicit information among land trusts and other conservation actors remains a major deficit in conservation practice. Most states do not require spatially explicit or generally searchable recordation of conservation property interests.[183] Most localities do a technologically infantile job of mapping their zoning and other land use plans and goals, to say nothing of making such information widely available.[184] Indeed, state-to-state differences in vernacular often hinder regional cooperation, whether by increasing the costs of information pooling or by defeating the wider benchmarking of accomplishments.[185] Thus, the pooling of information about problem-solving teams that form in place to collaborate toward broader ends remains woefully under-developed.

If we are going to enable more conservation actors to build their actions into broader-scaled plans and strategies, we will have to reduce the frictions that are such an impediment to doing so today. We need conservation customs and tools that are more generative—that enable and reward improvisation instead of keeping it in the shadows. Part IV sharpens the issues and problems that those customs and tools should be able to solve, and proposes a few specific changes that might make them a reality in the near future.

IV. What to Do About Conservation’s Scale and Identity Problems

Organizations like the KC are not really organizations in the standard sense. Indeed, they have very little agency in their own right. They are of the same substantive type as something like the Malpai Borderlands Group (MBG)—a robust, highly successful cooperative partnership that anchors and guides the multiple-use conservation planning of lands along the Arizona–New Mexico–Mexico border.[186] But organizations like the KC have yet to demonstrate their own resilience or usefulness to their contributing elements.[187] They are inchoate in a very real sense. Groups like the KC are the future for migrations and migratory species, though. If they do not succeed, becoming more like MBG, vital parts of our ecosystems will continue to diminish in abundance and functionality.[188] This Part outlines how the law should change to enable these groups to gel more readily and play more active roles in the lives of their disparate constituents.

A. Border Patrol: Cooperative Organizational Forms that Succeed

IRS and the Senate Finance Committee know almost nothing about what it takes to make good conservation decisions. Ironically enough, one of the catalyzing events in the early history of the MBG was TNC’s purchase of a large ranch in the Malpai area in an attempt to preserve its tremendous habitat values.[189] Management of the more than 320,000 acre ranch soon became a huge drain on TNC and it went looking for one of the very same conservation buyers the Washington Post would later cast suspicions upon in 2003.[190] One of the ranchers who started the MBG bought the ranch from TNC, fully intent on protecting it much as TNC hoped.[191] That transaction began what would become decades of directly deliberative problem-solving between the world’s largest conservancy and a handful of ranchers in a high desert of the American southwest intent on continuing a business that is more about love of the land than profit.[192] As more social capital was earned in that venture, more of what the U.S. Forest Service, Bureau of Land Management, and the equivalent state land management agencies were doing on their lands was tied into the Malpai group’s plans and enterprise.[193] Thus, as we scrutinize conservation deals today, intent on rooting out the corruption and abuse we suspect they represent, we ought to remember the trust deficits most conservationists face and how unlikely the sort of partnering TNC and MBG pioneered in 1991 still remains. If we want our figurative border patrollers to maintain legal fictions separating public from private and profit from nonprofit, we should hardly be surprised to learn that they have saddled our conservation entrepreneurs with such frictions that real innovations in form remain rare.

Instead of tasking an already overburdened administrative agency with more enforcement work in specialized areas beyond its competence, we should rely on other forces to expose and eliminate the true corruption in the conservation deals increasingly intertwining nonprofit, for-profit, and public entities. Real accountability in these settings depends directly on the appropriate filters to manage information flows, not their absolute transparency. An umbrella group like the Land Trust Alliance (LTA)—a membership organization that pools information from local land trusts and offers guidance on best practices, resources, tools, etc.—is positioned to make use of its broad perspective without losing touch with its constituent members’ concerns.[194] LTA could, with the right help from IRS and states’ Attorneys General, establish practically authoritative guidelines for land trusts, especially as to mergers and acquisitions, good governance, and necessary terms and conditions for easements.[195] LTA is perhaps ideally positioned to combine both a deep knowledge of current practices and a history of objective analysis of broader trends and drivers.[196] LTA’s Land Trust Standards and Practices is amply suited to sort the greenwashing from the bona fide in limited development projects.[197] More importantly, LTA’s databases and long-term relationships with major land trusts could enable it to identify synergies that could and should be more of a driver in the land trust community.[198] One larger, financially sound land trust with the resources for professional staff and effective project selection and management where there previously had been three or four anemic organizations with little such capacity would provide the kind of consolidation places like the Kittatinny often desperately need.[199]

Likewise, larger conservation organizations such as the Audubon Society, TNC, Ducks Unlimited, and a few others must deliver more of the technical acumen so necessary to evidence-based conservation today, even if this means delivering it to other nonprofits. Their economies of scale make these organizations a valuable resource to the much smaller, often volunteer-driven local land trusts. As they continue to expand their already robust networks of cooperating experts and professionals, their natural tendencies toward internalization and competition for scarce donor loyalties[200] must be checked by an ethic of collaboration and exchange. In addition, the opportunities to make this expertise more widely available must become more manifest and that can only happen if smaller conservation agents disclose—advertise—the help they need. A “critical antecedent” to real learning by doing in contexts like this is “a small number of credible hypotheses” that can organize collective investigation and generate the true “surprises” such endeavors inevitably yield.[201]

In addition, mandatory recording of protected areas of various kinds is a goal virtually all conservationists should support. As more land is subject to conservation restrictions of myriad kinds, spatially explicit maps and other demonstrative aids would make conservation as a whole immensely more communicative and might even enable precisely the sort of peer-to-peer accountability that is so effective. Cost-benefit targeting and acquisition information, after all, could be a superior benchmark of conservation performance,[202] whether used by volunteers deciding where to spend their own social capital or by philanthropists assessing return on their investments. Instead of the asymmetrical and coarse versions of such accountability we have today—IRS’s Form 990 and the veiled threats it represents[203]—we ought to strive to create richer measurements of success.[204] Broader and more uniform disclosure and aggregation of protected areas’ essential data—data that would aid true return-on-investment analyses—is a necessary starting point toward such ends.[205] Of course, disclosure of such complex information is never a panacea; finding the right agents to sort, aggregate, and distribute the information is much of the challenge.[206] The agents who could make such disclosures generative are those with the broadest reach and perspective, deepest expertise, and widest influence.[207]

Finally, as I have argued before, municipalities confronting development pressures, mobile capital, and scale issues of their own could do worse than to find the right partner nonprofits as the holders of exacted conservation easements.[208] Doing so would allow them to reach broader scales than their own comparatively small territories, make use of expert staffs and volunteers they cannot afford themselves, and shield conservation monitoring and enforcement work that requires trust and cooperation from local political forces.[209]

B. Diversifying the Concepts and Modes of Conservation

Conservation is a complex concept with many different senses.[210] In conservation circles, it tends to encode a great deal implicitly. “Conservancy” has an uncontroversial, almost quaint connotation.[211] Yet land and sub-fee interests in land should perhaps be just as controversial in our political lives today as chaining oneself to a tree. In view of their error risks, inherent trade-offs, and high monetary and human costs, no other major strategy in environmental politics today is as risky, yet avoids scrutiny so well, as the easement strategy our land trusts have mainstreamed.[212] The major nonprofits that have experimented with collaborative development and sustainable design—which necessarily involve local, state and federal governments, donors, and for-profit investors—have discovered that, however intelligent in concept, the polarities of conservation politics make such projects virtually impossible to complete in our legal system as it is.[213] Our only choice is to try, though. Consider the following: Landscape fragmentation can actually be exacerbated by the premature or opportunistic selection of parcels for easements—leading to more sprawl and higher areal demands for some spatially resolute urbanizing area.[214] Much if not most of the thinking about which parcels to acquire is being done by individual owners or donors with their own highly partial and biased motivations.[215] Thus, scaling conservation ambitions up inevitably leads to a checking function on these more individualistic judgments. For it is only through that up-scaling that the opportunity costs of a particular conservation deal can be compared against nature’s other scales—like those of migrations and migrating species. What conservation rightly demands at these other scales is a constantly-evolving consensus that our regulators and other leaders must understand first and foremost as a shifting function of our best available science. By embracing the multi-scalar nature of that enterprise, though, the very concept of conservation inevitably expands into a more open-ended agenda.

V. Conclusion

I noted at the outset our liberalism and the challenges it brings for those serious about conservation in the twenty-first century. The problem is not that our federalism or anything else in our Constitution deprives us of the authority needed to build larger or more integrated systems of public reserves.[216] It is not even that innovative structures joining public and private lands into landscape-scale partnerships have never been imagined or legislated.[217] It is that whatever Americans’ regard for environmental quality comes to, the American land ethic has remained basically possessory and divisionary in nature.[218] Thus, barring some seismic shift, the majority of Americans will support conservation by and through government if and only if it does not entail severe strictures on property rights (real or perceived). It is time for coalitional entities like The Kittatinny Coalition to make more out of themselves and us than they are at present by shouldering a different kind of responsibility going forward. These entities must begin viewing the problem-solving they do to reconcile public goals, like the protection of migrations and migratory species, with our intermixed landscapes as the scarce and undervalued public resource it is. They must begin capturing their deliberations and sharing their insights and outcomes as widely as possible. Without that kind of intentional experimentation, the directly deliberative partnering attacking problems as they appear locally will never progress fast enough to make enough difference in a world generating ever more depletion, toxification, and environmental loss.

 



* Professor Jamison Colburn is on the faculty at Penn State’s Dickinson School of Law and specializes in habitat protection law. Before teaching he was an enforcement attorney for the United States Environmental Protection Agency and a collaborating researcher with the Project on Public Problem Solving at Columbia University. He has served as a trustee of the Connecticut River Watershed Council.

[1] See Audubon Pa., Conservation Plan for the Kittatinny Ridge in Pennsylvania (2006), available at http://pa.audubon.org/PDFs/KittatinnyConservationPlan-Apr2007.pdf.

[2] See id.

[3] See id. An update and “state of the resource” report was released in summer 2010. See Audubon Pa., State of the Kittatinny Ridge (2010), available at http://pa.audubon.org/PDFs/KittatinnyConservationPlan-Apr2007.pdf [hereinafter State of the Ridge].

[4] See Audubon Pa., supra note 1.

[5] See Gregory S. Alexander, The Global Debate Over Constitutional Property: Lessons For American Takings Jurisprudence (2006); Eric T. Freyfogle, The Land We Share: Private Property and the Common Good (2003); Eric T. Freyfogle, On Private Property: Finding Common Ground on the Ownership of Land (2007) [hereinafter Freyfogle, On Private Property]; Liam Murphy & Thomas Nagel, The Myth of Ownership: Taxes and Justice (2002).

[6] Freyfogle, On Private Property, supra note 5, at x–xv (discussing how to intertwine property rights with conservation interests).

[7] See Richard Brewer, Conservancy: The Land Trust Movement in America 36–40 (2003) (discussing the rise of land trust organizations in the 20th century).

[8] See, e.g., Larry S. Allen, Collaboration in the Borderlands: The Malpai Borderlands Group, Rangelands, no. 3, June 2006, at 17, 18.

[9] See Audubon Pa., supra note 1; Audubon Pa., Kittatinny Ridge Conservation Project Facts & Information: Project Overview, http://pa.audubon.org/kittatinny/facts_overview.html (last visited Feb. 11, 2011).

[10] See Audubon Pa., supra note 1; Audubon Pa., supra note 9.

[11] See Brewer, supra note 7, at 1.

[12] See id.

[13] See Geer v. Connecticut, 161 U.S. 519, 522–23 (1896). It is important to note that Geer’s ownership notions were mostly abrogated in a series of later cases. See Michael J. Bean & Melanie J. Rowland, The Evolution of National Wildlife Law 27–35 (3d ed., 1997).

[14] See Dale D. Goble & Eric T. Freyfogle, Wildlife Law 26–31 (2d ed. 2010); Thomas A. Lund, American Wildlife Law 101–10 (1980).

[15] See Hughes v. Oklahoma, 441 U.S. 322, 334–35, 337 (1979); Ctr. for Biological Diversity, Inc. v. FPL Grp., Inc., 83 Cal. Rptr. 3d 588, 598–99 (Cal. Ct. App. 2008).

[16] See Christine A. Klein, Preserving Monumental Landscapes Under the Antiquities Act, 87 Cornell L. Rev. 1333, 1336–38 (2002) (discussing the use of the Antiquities Act to set aside undeveloped lands for protection); Shannon Petersen, Congress and Charismatic Megafauna: A Legislative History of the Endangered Species Act, 29 Envtl. L. 463 (1999).

[17] See Jamison Colburn, Bioregional Conservation May Mean Taking Habitat, 37 Envtl. L. 249, 256–58 (2007) [hereinafter Colburn, Taking Habitat]; Jamison E. Colburn, Habitat and Humanity: Public Lands Law in the Age of Ecology, 39 Ariz. St. L.J. 145, 146–47, 149 (2007) [hereinafter Colburn, Habitat and Humanity]; Jamison E. Colburn, The Indignity of Federal Wildlife Habitat Law, 57 Ala. L. Rev. 417, 436–37 (2005) [hereinafter Colburn, Indignity]; Jamison E. Colburn, Localism’s Ecology: Protecting and Restoring Habitat in the Suburban Nation, 33 Ecology L.Q. 945, 946–47 (2006) [hereinafter Colburn, Localism’s Ecology]; John G. Sprankling, The Antiwilderness Bias in American Property Law, 63 U. Chi. L. Rev. 519, 559–63 (1996).

[18] See Peter Kareiva et al., Nongovernmental Organizations, in 1 The Endangered Species Act at Thirty: Renewing the Conservation Promise 176, 178 (Dale D. Goble et al. eds., 2006); David Orr, The Constitution of Nature, 17 Conservation Biology 1478, 1480 (2003).

[19] Christopher Gregory Klyza, Public Lands and Wild Lands in the Northeast, in Wilderness Comes Home, Rewilding the Northeast, 75, 76 tbl.4.1, 87 (Christopher Gregory Klyza ed., 2001).

[20] Colburn, Indignity, supra note 17, at 426, 446–53.

[21] See, e.g., Emma Marris, The New Normal, 11 Conservation, Apr.–June 2010, at 12, 14–15 (“The nonjudgmental term for such a place is ‘novel ecosystem’—one that has been heavily influenced by humans but is not under human management.”).

[22] See Manomet Ctr. For Conservation Scis., United States Shorebird Conservation Plan 5, 7 (Stephen Brown et al. eds., 2d ed. 2001) (describing measures intended to protect migratory shorebirds in an interagency conservation plan).

[23] Endangered Species Act of 1973, 16 U.S.C. §§ 1531–1544 (2006).

[24] See id. § 1531(a)–(c); Lawrence R. Liebesman & Rafe Petersen, Endangered Species Deskbook 6–7 (2d ed. 2010).

[25] See Holly Doremus, Listing Decisions Under the Endangered Species Act: Why Better Science Isn’t Always Better Policy, 75 Wash. U. L.Q. 1029, 1041–43, 1049–56 (1997).

[26] Colburn, Indignity, supra note 17, at 436–53; see also Doremus, supra note 25, at 1065–1129 (discussing the limits of science and its application in policymaking and the ESA).

[27] See, e.g., Endangered and Threatened Wildlife and Plants; Notice of Intent to Clarify the Role of Habitat in Endangered Species Conservation, 64 Fed. Reg. 31,871, 31,873 (June 14, 1999) (acknowledging that much of the Fish and Wildlife Service’s budget in a fiscal year could be spent on just one duty under the ESA: the designation of critical habitat for listed species pursuant to court orders).

[28] 16 U.S.C. § 1533(b)(2) (2006). Courts have held that this statutory language requires the federal government to rely, wherever possible, on expert analysis and not simply the conclusory assertions of staff or interested private parties. See, e.g., N. Spotted Owl v. Hodel, 716 F. Supp. 479, 483 (W.D. Wash. 1988). This statutory mandate also specifically excludes the use of economic considerations for listing, see, e.g., N.M. Cattle Growers’ Ass’n v. U.S. Fish & Wildlife Serv., 248 F.3d 1277, 1284–85 (10th Cir. 2001), but it has been extremely difficult to say what constitutes the best scientific or commercial information amid the kinds of normative conflicts listing decisions produce. See Doremus, supra note 25, at 1031–34 (“Federal conservation statutes consistently invoke the mantra of science, demanding that executive branch agencies base their actions on the ‘best available scientific information,’ a term not defined in any statute.”).

[29] See, e.g., 64 Fed. Reg. at 31,872–73 (“We have been inundated with citizen lawsuits for our failure to [designate critical habitat], and we have been challenged on numerous ‘not prudent’ critical habitat determinations . . . .”).

[30] Colburn, Indignity, supra note 17, at 436–53; George Cameron Coggins, A Premature Evaluation of American Endangered Species Law, in Endangered Species Act: Law, Policy, and Perspectives 1, 1–7 (Donald C. Baur & Wm. Robert Irvin eds., 2002).

[31] Colburn, Habitat and Humanity, supra note 17, at 146–49.

[32] 16 U.S.C. § 1538(a) (2006). Under the Act, the “take” of any listed species is specifically prohibited and “take” is defined to mean “harass, harm, pursue, hunt, shoot, wound, kill, trap, capture, or collect, or to attempt to engage in any such conduct.” Id. § 1532(19).

[33] Final Redefinition of Harm, 46 Fed. Reg. 54,748, 54,748 (Nov. 4, 1981) (codified at 50 C.F.R. pt. 17) (emphasis added). “Harm in the definition of ‘take’ in the Act means an act which actually kills or injures wildlife. Such act may include significant habitat modification or degradation where it actually kills or injures wildlife by significantly impairing essential behavioral patterns, including breeding, feeding or sheltering.” 50 C.F.R. § 17.3 (2009). Harass in the definition of ‘take’ in the Act means an intentional or negligent act or omission which creates the likelihood of injury to wildlife by annoying it to such an extent as to significantly disrupt normal behavioral patterns which include, but are not limited to, breeding, feeding, or sheltering. Id. In Babbitt v. Sweet Home Chapter of Communities for a Great Oregon, 515 U.S. 687 (1995), the Supreme Court rejected the proposition that ESA section 3’s definition of “take” could not bear an administrative definition of “harm” that included habitat modifications injurious to a population rather than to definite individuals. Id. at 696–708; id. at 710 (O’Connor, J., concurring) (“One need not subscribe to theories of ‘psychic harm’ to recognize that to make it impossible for an animal to reproduce is to impair its most essential physical functions and to render that animal, and its genetic material, biologically obsolete. This, in my view, is actual injury.” (citation omitted)); see also id. at 734 n.5 (Scalia, J., dissenting) (remarking that the concurrence relies on an “imaginative construction” to arrive at this result). Counsel for landowner organizations still argue, though, that “the harm regulations provide that a land use activity does not become harm unless and until the activity kills or actually injures a member of a listed wildlife species.” Steven P. Quarles & Thomas R. Lundquist, When Do Land Use Activities “Take” Listed Wildlife Under ESA Section 9 and the “Harm” Regulation?, in Endangered Species Act: Law, Policy and Perspectives, supra note 30, at 207, 217. This is obviously a strategic position calculated to further complicate federal protections against broad scale habitat degradation. While the “harm” definition was amended in 1981 to require “significant” habitat destruction or degradation that “actually” kills or injures “wildlife,” see 46 Fed. Reg. at 54,749, one can do so by impairing the “essential behavioral patterns of a listed species” like breeding, id. at 54,748, by disrupting the population and not just its individuals. Indeed, there would be nothing for the “harm” extension of the definition of “take” left to signify—given ESA section 3’s other defining terms like “wound,” “kill,” and “harass”—if it necessarily required proved harm to particular animals.

[34] See Bean & Rowland, supra note 13, at 218 n.121.

[35] Patrick Parenteau, The Take Prohibition, in Endangered Species Act: Law, Policy, and Perspectives, supra note 30, at 146, 147, 150–51.

[36] 16 U.S.C. § 1531(b) (2006). The agencies’ experiences with consultations pursuant to ESA section 7 in which “take” has been inferred on the basis of incomplete proof underscores this point. See, e.g., Ariz. Cattle Growers’ Ass’n v. U.S. Fish & Wildlife Serv., 273 F.3d 1229, 1251 (9th Cir. 2001) (invalidating “Incidental Take Statements” issued in the course of consultation as being insufficiently supported by proof).

[37] 16 U.S.C. §§ 1536(a)(2), 1533(b)(2) (2006); see also Susan George & William J. Snape III, State Endangered Species Acts, in Endangered Species Act: Law, Policy, and Perspectives, supra note 30, at 344–45, 352, 348–49 (discussing various habitat designation provisions). On state imperiled species programs generally, see Lawrence Niles & Kimberly Korth, State Wildlife Diversity Programs, in 1 The Endangered Species Act at Thirty: Renewing the Conservation Promise, supra note 18, at 141, 141–55. This ESA prohibition only applies to federal agencies. All other parties—governed only by ESA section 9—are under no direct duty with respect to designated critical habitat. See Kieran F. Suckling & Martin Taylor, Critical Habitat and Recovery, in 1 The Endangered Species Act at Thirty: Renewing the Conservation Promise Volume 1, supra note 18, at 75, 77.

[38] In National Association of Home Builders v. Defenders of Wildlife, 551 U.S. 644 (2007), the Supreme Court curbed substantially the instances in which section 7 will apply. It interpreted mandatory language in the Clean Water Act, Federal Water Pollution Control Act, 33 U.S.C. §§ 1251–1387 (2006), in conjunction with an agency decision to act (“The Administrator shall approve each submitted program unless he determines that adequate authority does not exist.”) to mean that that agency had no discretion to consider whether the action would jeopardize listed species as 7(a)(2) otherwise requires. 551 U.S at 661–62. The 5-4 majority held that the list of factors and the “shall” created a closed set of decision criteria and that application of ESA section 7(a)(2) was foreclosed as a result. Id. Because the Clean Water Act language was not unique, savvy agency counsel can now assert broadly that their own enabling statute or statutes are analogous to the Clean Water Act as construed in National Association of Home Builders.

[39] See, e.g., Amy Sinden, The Economics of Endangered Species: Why Less Is More in the Economic Analysis of Critical Habitat Designations, 28 Harv. Envtl. L. Rev. 129 (2004). The government now routinely admits it makes its critical habitat decisions in response to lawsuits and threats to sue. See Amy N. Hagen & Karen E. Hodges, Resolving Critical Habitat Designation Failures: Reconciling Law, Policy, and Biology, 20 Conservation Biology 399, 400, 402 (2006). Though the statute proclaims its goal to be the conservation of ecosystems, the means Congress actually provides consist chiefly in the designation and protection of resources for listed species. See Ctr. for Biological Diversity v. Norton, 240 F. Supp. 2d 1090, 1098 (D. Ariz. 2003). And critical habitat designations have become harder and harder for the agencies to complete. See, e.g., id. at 1091–94 (cataloging hurdles of the Fish and Wildlife Service to designating critical habitat for the Mexican spotted owl).

Between April 1996 and July 1999, FWS designated more than 250 species as threatened or endangered under the ESA, but had made critical habitat designations for only 2. Of a total 1,200 species listed by FWS as threatened or endangered, FWS has designated critical habitat for only 113 (9%) of them. Furthermore, while FWS must designate critical habitat once a species is listed, “the FWS has typically put off doing so until forced to do so by court order.”

Id. at 1103 (citations omitted) (quoting N.M. Cattle Growers’ Ass’n, 248 F.3d 1277, 1283 (10th Cir. 2001)).

[40] 16 U.S.C. § 1533(b)(2) (2006); see also N.M. Cattle Growers’ Ass’n, 248 F.3d at 1285 (expressly rejecting the baseline approach to economic analysis because the ESA required a detailed analysis of the economic impacts fairly traceable to the designation of critical habitat even if those impacts would also be caused in the absence of critical habitat designations—i.e., by the listing of the species in and of itself).

[41] 16 U.S.C. § 1532(5)(A)(i) (2006). The statutory definition of “critical habitat” for a listed species is “the specific areas within the geographical area occupied by the species, at the time it is listed in accordance with [ESA section 4], on which are found those physical or biological features (I) essential to the conservation of the species and (II) which may require special management considerations or protection . . . .” Id. The designation can be extended to areas “outside the geographical area occupied by the species at the time it is listed,” but only if the Fish and Wildlife Service (FWS) specifically finds “that such areas are essential for the conservation of the species.” Id. § 1532(5)(A)(ii).

[42] See 16 U.S.C. § 1533(b)(2) (2006) (“The Secretary may exclude any area from critical habitat if he determines that the benefits of such exclusion outweigh the benefits of specifying such area as part of the critical habitat . . . .”); see also N.M. Cattle Growers’ Ass’n, 248 F.3d at 1285 (concluding that FWS has a statutory duty to analyze the quantifiable costs and benefits of designating protected habitat even if those factors are coordinately caused by the listing of the species itself—through the operation of ESA section 9—or other regulatory requirements).

[43] See Gifford Pinchot Task Force v. U.S. Fish & Wildlife Serv., 378 F.3d 1059, 1069–71 (9th Cir. 2004) (discussing the correct interpretation of “adverse modification” in considering impacts of logging); Sierra Club v. U.S. Fish & Wildlife Serv., 245 F.3d 434, 439–43 (5th Cir. 2001) (discussing the link between adverse modification and critical habitat value to species survival and recovery in the context of sturgeon fishing).

[44] See Ariz. Cattle Growers’ Ass’n, 273 F.3d 1229, 1244–47 (9th Cir. 2001) (finding that Congress did not intend for all land capable of supporting a protected species to be regulated by FWS and thus a species not recently reported in an area or only potentially migrating to an area to recolonize was insufficient to justify the issuance of an Incidental Take Statement).

[45] These two agencies are responsible for implementing the ESA. See, e.g., 50 C.F.R. § 424.12(e) (2009).

[46] 50 C.F.R. § 424.12(e) (2009).

[47] See Heather L. Reynolds & Keith Clay, Migratory Species and Ecological Processes, 41 Envtl. L. 371 (2011).

[48] Too much of what we regard as conservation today is more properly labeled restoration of biota and functional ecosystems. See generally Oswald J. Schmitz, Ecology and Ecosystem Conservation (2007) (discussing the complexity of ecosystem conservation). Thus, if repopulation is beyond the scope of the ESA, that statute’s scope is severely limited.

[49] See Robert L. Fischman & Jeffrey B. Hyman, The Legal Challenge of Protecting Animal Migrations as Phenomena of Abundance, 28 Va. Envtl. L.J. 173, 221 (2010); U.S. Fish & Wildlife Serv., Critical Habitat Mapper, http://criticalhabitat.fws.gov/flex/crithabMapper.jsp. (last visited Apr. 15, 2011) (mapping critical habitat nationwide).

[50] Joel Berger, The Last Mile: How to Sustain Long-Distance Migration in Mammals, 18 Conservation Biology 320, 321 (2004).

[51] See generally 16 U.S.C. § 1536(a)(2) (2006) (requiring consultation if a federal agency’s proposed action might “jeopardize the continued existence” of a listed species or modify any designated critical habitat); Nat’l Ass’n of Home Builders, 551 U.S. 644, 665 (2007) (holding that the consultation duty covers only discretionary agency actions and does not attach to actions that an agency is required by statute to undertake).

[52] See Audubon Pa., supra note 1.

[53] See supra notes 36–37 and accompanying text.

[54] See, e.g., Martin F. J. Taylor et al., The Effectiveness of the Endangered Species Act: A Quantitative Analysis, 55 BioScience 360 (2005) (evaluating success of the Services’ strategies under the ESA without referring to coordination with local entities). Local land use authority throughout the Kittatinny is a predominant driver of land use decision making, an influence Pennsylvania has sought repeatedly to reform. See Joel P. Dennison, New Tricks for an Old Dog: The Changing Role of the Comprehensive Plan Under Pennsylvania’s “Growing Smarter” Land Use Reforms, 105 Dick. L. Rev. 385 (2001).

[55] Others have commented on this paradox at length. See Holly Doremus, Biodiversity and the Challenge of Saving the Ordinary, 38 Idaho L. Rev. 325, 329 (2002) [hereinafter Doremus, Saving the Ordinary] (“Although saving the special will always be an important component of nature protection, that strategy alone cannot solve the current biodiversity problem. Saving biodiversity is by definition a general goal, not readily amenable to any special focus.”); Holly Doremus, Patching the Ark: Improving Legal Protection of Biological Diversity, 18 Ecology L.Q. 265, 304 (1991); Daniel J. Rohlf, Six Biological Reasons Why the Endangered Species Act Doesn’t Work—And What to Do About It, 5 Conservation Biology 273, 275 (1991).

[56] Doremus, Saving the Ordinary, supra note 55, at 334 (“Human beings simply are not wired to care about, or even to notice, the ordinary. We cannot attend to everything that competes for our attention. We have therefore developed a variety of filtering mechanisms to help us focus effectively on some things by more or less shutting out others. . . . The ordinary . . . provides a poor focal point.”).

[57] See Audubon Pa., supra note 1.

[58] One of the principal chilling influences in environments of this kind is the unpredictability of species’s listing under the ESA—a process that is driven as much by ESA section 4 litigation as anything else. See Liebesman & Petersen, supra note 24, at 13–27 (discussing the many issues involved in the decision to list a species, including judicial interpretations and the Services’ responses).

[59] Colburn, Indignity, supra note 17, at 421–36; see Fischman & Hyman, supra note 49, at 212.

[60] See George & Snape, supra note 37 (“No mechanisms for recovery, consultation, or critical habitat designation exist in 32 state [endangered species] acts.”); Fischman & Hyman, supra note 49, at 212–17 (listing actions that could be taken to promote migration on federal lands, but noting “[r]estricting migration protection efforts to public lands, however, will not be sufficient to protect migrations generally”).

[61] See Colburn, Habitat and Humanity, supra note 17, at 175–76 (arguing that limiting agencies to preserving public lands from certain land uses is not sufficient to protect biodiversity); Robert B. Keiter, Ecological Concepts, Legal Standards, and Public Land Law: An Analysis and Assessment, 44 Nat. Resources J. 943, 986 (2004) (noting that the conclusion that minor biodiversity-oriented changes to public lands laws indicate a reorientation of public lands policy is “premature”).

[62] Colburn, Indignity, supra note 17, at 432–34.

[63] See J. Michael Scott et al., Gap Analysis: A Geographic Approach to Protection of Biological Diversity, 57 J. Wildlife Mgmt. (Wildlife Monographs, No. 123) 1, 34 (1993); J. Michael Scott et al., Nature Reserves: Do They Capture the Full Range of America’s Biological Diversity?, 11 Ecological Applications 999, 1004 (2001). See generally J. Michael Scott et al., National Wildlife Refuge System: Ecological Context and Integrity, 44 Nat. Resources J. 1041, 1046–47 (2004) (showing that fragmentation of the refuge system is inhibiting conservation policies).

[64] See Sally K. Fairfax et al., Buying Nature: The Limits of Land acquisition as a Conservation Strategy, 1780–2004, at 256, 263 (2005).

[65] Audubon Pa., supra note 1.

[66] Id.

[67] Id.

[68] See Fairfax et al., supra note 64, at 259.

[69] Pennsylvania is estimated to have lost over four million acres of farmland to sprawl since 1950. See Debra Wolf Goldstein, Using Conservation Easements to Preserve Open Space: A Guide for Pennsylvania’s Municipalities 4 (2002), available at http://www.dcnr.state.pa.us/
brc/Easements.pdf.

[70] The KC touts the many “ecosystem services” the Kittatinny Ridge provides, including “clean and reliable drinking water; a multitude of recreational options . . . an abundance of wildlife, including the world-famous fall raptor migration; breathtaking scenery . . . and economic impact from the many visitors to the region’s parks, trails, and game lands.” State of the Ridge, supra note 3, at 2, 12.

[71] See Mike McQueen & Ed McMahon, Land Conservation Financing 17 (2003); Alexandra Dapolito Dunn, Siting Green Infrastructure: Legal and Policy Solutions to Alleviate Urban Poverty and Promote Healthy Communities, 37 B.C. Envtl. Aff. L. Rev. 41, 53–56 (2010). See Audubon Pa., Blue Mountain – Kittatinny Ridge Conservation Project Partners, http://kittatinnyridge.com/partner_coalition.html (last visited Apr. 2, 2011) (noting that the organization has significantly expanded its partners since 2001).

[72] Stephen B. Horsley et al., White-Tailed Deer Impact on the Vegetation Dynamics of a Northern Hardwood Forest, 13 Ecological Applications 98, 112 (2003).

[73] Audubon Pa., supra note 1.

[74] The Pennsylvania Federation of Sportsmen’s Clubs (PFSC) is careful not to advertise its support for unchecked deer populations, but neither does it view deer herd reduction as a priority. See Joe McGarrity, Joint Legislative Budget and Finance Committee, On Target, May/June 2010, at 11, 13, available at http://www.pfsc.org/LinkClick.aspx?fileticket=xR-MieN3xew%3d&tabid=152 (arguing for balancing deer population with plant regeneration); Steve Smith, Profitable Conservation Program Pays Landowners to Plant Trees and Improve Wildlife Habitat, On Target, May/June 2010, at 15, 15, available at http://www.pfsc.org/LinkClick.aspx?fileticket=xR-MieN3xew%3d&tabid=152 (promoting a program giving property owners incentives to plant trees and shrubs that benefit white-tailed deer).

[75] Pa. Dep’t. of Conservation & Natural Res., Deer Management Plan 2, available at http://www.dcnr.state.pa.us/forestry/deer/Deer_Management_Plan.pdf (stating as a deer-management goal, to “provide deer viewing and hunting opportunities to the public” to promote recreation and tourism).

[76] See Audubon Pa., supra note 1, at 9.

                                    [77]                                     David J. Cherney, Securing the Free Movement of Wildlife: Lessons from the American West’s Longest Land Mammal Migration, 41 Envtl. L. 599, 603 (2011).

[78] Collaborative ventures of many different kinds confront this fact of life. How an individual effort moves from gently worded abstractions to practical actions taken together is ably mapped in Wondolleck and Yaffee’s patient study. See Julia M. Wondolleck & Steven L. Yaffee, Making Collaboration Work: Lessons from Innovation in Natural Resources Management (2000).

[79] See Audubon Pa., supra note 1, at 6.

[80] Dunn, supra note 71, at 43 (“The term ‘green infrastructure’ has many definitions because it is used on a variety of scales—watershed or sub-watershed, neighborhood, or site.”).

[81] Even in U.S. land markets with comparatively depressed prices (like much of Pennsylvania), the conservation community should not be expected to invest at the levels that were common from 1999 to 2008. The scarcity of conservation capital globally is forcing hard choices that are now being driven by opportunity costs as much or more than biology. See Robin Naidoo & Wiktor L. Adamowicz, Modeling Opportunity Costs of Conservation in Transitional Landscapes, 20 Conservation Biology 490, 491 (2006).

[82] See Jeffrey C. Milder et al., Conserving Biodiversity and Ecosystem Function Through Limited Development: An Empirical Evaluation, 22 Conservation Biology 70, 72, 78 (2008); Jeffrey C. Milder, Using Limited Development to Conserve Land and Natural Resources, 25 Exchange, Spring 2006, at 14, 14, 19. But see Jeremy D. Maestas, Richard L. Knight, & Wendell C. Gilgert, Biodiversity and Land-Use Change in the American Mountain West, 91 Geographical Rev. 509, 520–521 (2001) (finding that even limited development projects have deleterious effects on biotic communities); Mark W. Brunson & Lynn Huntsinger, Ranching as a Conservation Strategy: Can Old Ranchers Save the New West?, 61 Rangeland Ecology & Mgmt. 137, 139 (suggesting that limited development may subject human populations to animal-borne disease).

[83] A major priority for the KC is the enactment of growth control ordinances throughout the more than 100 municipalities comprising the Ridge that have the authority to do so. See State of the Ridge, supra note 3, at 14. No detailed plan for doing so appears in the KC’s most recent update, see id., which is a potentially serious problem for the KC. See Wondolleck & Yaffee, supra note 78, at 170 (“As logger Jim Neal of the Applegate Partnership comments, ‘Abstraction is death for a partnership.’ Effective partnerships in our studies grappled with issues in a tangible way by visiting sites and grounding their discussions in hands-on experiences.”).

[84] Without detailed cost-benefit data with which to prioritize conservation acquisitions it is impossible to choose parcels based on their expected monetary costs and conservation benefits. Modeling has been proposed as one means of traversing this hurdle in conservation planning, but even good models require more data than is usually available to local land trusts. See David Newburn et al., Economics and Land-Use Change in Prioritizing Private Land Conservation, 19 Conservation Biology 1411, 1413 (2005); see also Paul R. Armsworth & James N. Sanchirico, The Effectiveness of Buying Easements as a Conservation Strategy, 1 Conservation Letters 182, 188 (2008) (“The effectiveness of easements also depends on the information available to conservation investors regarding the value private landowners place upon keeping their properties in biodiversity friendly land uses.”).

[85] As others have shown, designing limited development projects that work is challenging even under the best of conditions. See, e.g., Ned Sullivan & Steve Rosenberg, Employing Limited Development Strategies to Finance Land Conservation and Community-Based Development Projects, in From Walden to Wall Street: Frontiers of Conservation Finance 90 (James N. Levitt ed., 2005). The structure that is perhaps most difficult to arrange and maintain is the partnership with developers. See Milder, supra note 82, at 16–17.

[86] See Fairfax et al., supra note 64, at 203–43; C. Timothy Lindstrom, A Tax Guide to Conservation Easements 4 (2008) (noting that “conservation easements are the primary tool of private land conservation today,” and that there were over 5.7 million more acres of conservation easements created than fee acquisitions in the period from 2000–2005). A conservation easement can be many things across the fifty states. The standard form is a sub-fee interest in land that binds the landowner to do or to not do various things with the land. See Andrew Dana & Michael Ramsey, Conservation Easements and the Common Law, 8 Stan. Envtl. L.J. 2, 6–8 (1989).

[87] See, e.g., Federico Cheever, Public Good and Private Magic in the Law of Land Trusts and Conservation Easements: A Happy Present and a Troubled Future, 73 Denv. U. L. Rev. 1077 (1996).

[88] See Gerald Korngold, Solving the Contentious Issues of Private Conservation Easements: Promoting Flexibility for the Future and Engaging the Public Land Use Process, 2007 Utah L. Rev. 1039 (2007); Nancy A. McLaughlin, Rethinking the Perpetual Nature of Conservation Easements, 29 Harv. Envtl. L. Rev. 421 (2005).

[89] See Audubon Pa., supra note 1.

[90] Dana & Ramsey, supra note 86, at 12–17.

[91] See Robert H. Levin, A Guided Tour of the Conservation Easement Enabling Statutes 7 (2010), available at http://www.landtrustalliance.org/policy/cestatutes
finalreport.pdf
. North Dakota is the only state without an enabling statute of some kind—and indications are that it will remain a holdout. Id.

[92] The Uniform Conservation Easement Act (UCEA) adopted an explicitly permissive approach to the creation of conservation easements, settling on three essential features: (1) such an easement is a nonpossessory interest in real property; (2) it imposes limitations or affirmative obligations on the owner-in-possession; and (3) the easement serves conservation purposes broadly defined. See Unif. Conservation Easement Act §§ 1(1), 2(a), 12 U.L.A. 165, 174, 179 (2008). Notably missing from these properties are the common law requirements of “touch-and-concern” and “privity of estate,” both of which are abolished by the UCEA and its copies. Id. § 4(6)–(7), 12 U.L.A. at 187. Twenty seven states adopted the UCEA or similar language. Levin, supra note 91, at 7.

[93] Levin, supra note 91, at 11.

[94] See Unif. Conservation Easement Act § 2(a), 12 U.L.A. 165, 179 (2008).

[95] See Brewer, supra note 7, at 1.

[96] See Rob Aldrich & James Wyerman, Land Trust Alliance, 2005 National Land Trust Census Report 3 (Chris Soto & Anne W. Garnett eds., 2005), available at http://www.landtrustalliance.org/land-trusts/land-trust-census/2005-national-land-trust-census/
2005-report.pdf. The stunning growth in land trust numbers in the five years reviewed in the 2005 census, a 32% increase, id., drew a lot of attention. See, e.g., Patrick O’Discroll, Report: Conservation Efforts Offset Land Lost to Sprawl, USA Today, Nov. 30, 2006, http://www.usatoday.com/news/nation/2006-11-29-conservation-sprawl_x.htm (last visited Mar. 22, 2011). The 2010 census is due to be released later this year. Land Trust Alliance, FAQs, http://www.landtrustalliance.org/land-trusts/land-trust-census/2010-national-land-trust-census/
faqs (last visited Feb. 14, 2011).

[97] See, e.g., The Nature Conservancy, Conservation Easements, http://www.nature.org/
aboutus/privatelandsconservation/conservationeasements/index.htm (last visited Apr. 20, 2011).

[98] See infra Part III.A.

[99] See infra notes 139–61 and accompanying text.

[100] See Emily Bateson & Nancy Smith, Making It Happen: Protecting Wilderness on the Ground, in Wilderness Comes Home: Rewilding the Northeast 182, 196–97 (Christopher McGrory Klyza ed., 2001); Fairfax et al., supra note 64, at 7–8. For an account of one aspect of the privatization movement, see John H. Adams et al., A Force for Nature: The Story of NRDC and the Fight to Save Our Planet 23–30 (2010) which describes the formation of the Natural Resources Defense Council as the nation’s first environmental law firm in the 1970’s, including the firm’s initial fight with IRS to retain its tax-exempt status despite litigating for environmental conservation.

[101] See, e.g., Fairfax et al., supra note 64, at 203; Anna Vinson, Re-Allocating the Conservation Landscape: Conservation Easements and Regulation Working in Concert, 18 Fordham Envtl. L. Rev. 273, 275 (2007).

[102] See Fairfax et. al., supra note 64, at 261. Collectively, local land trusts have “about one million members, many of them avid, hard-working volunteers.” Brewer, supra note 7, at 1. By 2005, more than half of the area protected by these groups took the form of conservation easements. See Armsworth & Sanchirico, supra note 84, at 182.

[103] Morris and Rissman conclude that the public availability of information about private conservation deals is diminishing and that this could have significant long-term costs. See Amy Wilson Morris & Adena R. Rissman, Public Access to Information on Private Land Conservation: Tracking Conservation Easements, 2009 Wis. L. Rev. 1237 (2009).

[104] See Colburn, Taking Habitat, supra note 17, at 276.

[105] See Paul R. Armsworth et al., Land Market Feedbacks Can Undermine Biodiversity Conservation, 103 Proc. Nat. Acad. Sci. 5403, 5407 (2006), available at http://www.pnas.org/
content/103/14/5403.full.pdf (discussing how purchasing land for conservation can undermine conservation efforts); A.M. Merenlender et al., Land Trusts and Conservation Easements: Who Is Conserving What for Whom?, 18 Conservation Biology 65, 70 (2004) (“Frequently, easements are assumed to be good for conservation because they at least abate the risks of the land being subdivided or developed to its highest economic use, and this is considered a benefit to all forever. The real story is much more likely to be that, with the conservation easement in place, where there is currently one house there will be two or three houses, with the easement protecting an unknown quantity of open space of unidentified ecological integrity for an undetermined amount of time.”).

[106] See, e.g., Joe Duggan, 14 Nebraska Counties Oppose Conservation Projects Funded by Trust, Lincoln JournalStar.com, Mar. 31, 2010, http://journalstar.com/news/local/
article_c41abcd4-3c4f-11df-a9ba-001cc4c03286.html (last visited Feb. 16, 2011) (reporting on a request by 14 Nebraska counties for an environmental trust to revoke grants for easements and an acquisition to conserve wildlife). The exceptions come almost exclusively from the organizations large enough to carry out such analyses and strategy-driven acquisitions. See, e.g., Trust for Pub. Land, A Vision for the Future of Conservation: Barnegat Bay 2020, at 26, 30–31, 35 (2008), available at http://www.tpl.org/content_documents/nj_Barnegat_Bay
_2020_08.pdf (setting out parcel-by-parcel priorities, environmental quality goals, and coordinating staff for the more than 425,000 acre Barnegat Bay watershed in Ocean County, New Jersey).

[107] Colburn, Taking Habitat, supra note 17, at 276.

[108] Id.

[109] See Morris & Rissman, supra note 103, at 1265 (reporting the views of one interviewee that, “Not everything is the public’s business. This [conservation deal] is a private transaction, especially those that are donated. They are recorded. [The public] shouldn’t be able to go through our files.” (second alteration in original)). But cf. Cheever, supra note 87, at 1101 (arguing that creating a government right to enforce conservation easements might protect against their abuse, which would make private easements more like a public resource).

[110] In the context of characterizing and pricing particular environmental degradations, this lack of scrutiny can be extremely advantageous, of course. Cf. James Salzman, Creating Markets for Ecosystem Services: Notes from the Field, 80 N.Y.U. L. Rev. 870, 880 (2005) (“In most cases, our scientific knowledge is inadequate to undertake meaningful marginal analysis—to predict with any certainty how specific local actions affecting these factors will impact the local ecosystem services themselves. For example, it is difficult to predict how developing thirty percent of this wetland will impact water quality, flooding events, or local bird populations.”). But it can also camouflage or even insulate the decidedly irrational actions of ignorant or biased agents from needed scrutiny. See, e.g., Zachary Bray, Reconciling Development and Natural Beauty: The Promise and Dilemma of Conservation Easements, 34 Harv. Envtl. L. Rev. 119, 139 (2010).

[111] See Bray, supra note 110, at 139. A series of Washington Post articles in 2003 cast suspicions onto The Nature Conservancy with allegations that the organization was party to arguably fraudulent, tax sheltering deals. See Senate Finance Committee Questions Nature Conservancy Practices, Calls for Changes, Philanthropy News Digest, http://
foundationcenter.org/pnd/news/story.jhtml?id=109300023 (last visited Apr. 15, 2011). After the dust settled, not a single instance of fraud or illegality was discovered, but nonetheless the Nature Conservancy changed certain controversial practices like selling conservation easements to trustees and allowing drilling on some of its preserves. See id. Still, broader problems of myopia and irrational decision making exist. See Armsworth et al., supra note 105, at 5407–08 (“Conservation groups typically ignore land market dynamics when prioritizing areas for investment. . . . Continuing to ignore market forces risks making wasteful use of limited conservation resources, and in some circumstances, may even result in conservation investments doing more harm than good.”); see also William Murdoch et al., Maximizing Return on Investment in Conservation, 139 Biological Conservation 375, 387 (2007) (explaining that informal ways of dealing with uncertainty in conservation efforts leads to a “fallible process” that is not capable of taking into account numerous interdependent factors).

[112] See supra Part III.

[113] See Armsworth et al., supra note 105, at 5407 (“[L]and prices rise when conservation groups invest significant sums in local land markets, making future investments more difficult.”).

[114] Innovative dealmaking, including the use of conduit organizations passing acquisitions into eventual public ownership, public/private partnership, debt market and revolving fund financing, is becoming the stock-in-trade for the larger organizations like the Trust for Public Land, The Nature Conservancy, and some others. See Patrick Coady, Conservation Finance Viewed as a System: Tackling the Financial Challenge, in From Walden to Wall Street: Frontiers of Conservation Finance, supra note 85, at 22, 32–33 (commercial debt markets); Mary McBryde et al., External Revolving Loan Funds: Expanding Interim Financing for Land Conservation, in From Walden to Wall Street: Frontiers of Conservation Finance, supra note 85, at 73, 75 (noting that “one increasingly important financial tool” is the revolving loan fund, which is a “dedicated pool[] of capital held by nonprofit organizations specifically to provide short-term . . . loans for land conservation”); Linda J. Mead, Mackinaw Headlands: A Model in Public–Private Partnerships, in Protecting the Land: Conservation Easements Past, Present, and Future 287, 290–91 (Julie Ann Gustanski & Roderick H. Squires eds., 2000) (describing the two-year process by which the Little Traverse Conservancy, McCormick Foundation, state trust, village of Mackinaw, Schott Foundation, and county officials ultimately conveyed a conservation easement to Emmett County); Sullivan & Rosenberg, supra note 90, at 90, 93 (public-private partnerships); Peter M. Morrisette, Conservation Easements and the Public Good: Preserving the Environment on Private Lands, 41 Nat. Resources J. 373, 375 n.10 (2001) (acquisition of private lands for transfer to public ownership).

[115] Kevin W. Schuyler, Expanding the Frontiers of Conservation Finance, in From Walden to Wall Street: Frontiers of Conservation Finance, supra note 85, at 109, 110.

[116] Id. at 120 (“Pushing the frontier of conservation finance is essential to expanding the ability of the conservation community to achieve its collective mission; and although the task ahead may seem daunting, the power of leverage, tax advantage, and compounding can lessen the burden.”).

[117] See, e.g., Elizabeth Brabec & Chip Smith, Agricultural Land Fragmentation: The Spatial Effects of Three Land Protection Strategies in the Eastern United States, 58 Landscape & Urb. Planning 255, 255, 260–61 (2002) (detailing fragmentation in Southampton, New York); Charles J. Fausold & Robert J. Lileholm, The Economic Value of Open Space: A Review and Synthesis, 23 Envtl. Mgmt. 307, 309–10 (1999) (describing the “enhancement value” reflected in the fair market value of certain properties in close proximity to open spaces, greenbelts, parks, etc.); Andrew J. Hansen et al., Effects of Exurban Development on Biodiversity: Patterns, Mechanisms, and Research Needs, 15 Ecological Applications 1893, 1897, 1902 (noting that “the percentage of nonnative species increase[s] along the rural-urban gradient”); Leroy J. Hushak, The Urban Demand for Urban-Rural Fringe Land, 51 Land Econ. 112, 112, 115, 122 (1975) (discussing the declining value of agricultural land as a result of zoning and property tax policies).

[118] The result is more attention being paid to “limited development” schemes for finance and other purposes. See Sullivan & Rosenberg, supra note 85, at 90; Jeffrey C. Milder, An Ecologically-Based Evaluation of Conservation and Limited Development Projects 2 (May 2005) (unpublished Masters’ thesis, Cornell University).

[119] See Brewer, supra note 7, at 13.

[120] See id. at 17.

[121] See id. at 16–18.

[122] See id. at 20.

[123] See Fairfax et al., supra note 64, at 203–04, 242 (remarking that the land trust movement peaked in the 1990s at more than 1,200 groups, but not before negotiating “massive acquisition deals” in the Northern Forest and other “record-breaking acquisitions of unprecedented complexity”); Brewer, supra note 7, at 9.

[124] Aldrich & Wyerman, supra note 96, at 3, 13. Today, the Trustees owns approximately ninety properties, not including the first it acquired. See Brewer, supra note 7, at 19. Like most regional land trusts, the Trustees blur the public/private boundary by the scale of their operations, the public subsidy of their acquisitions, and the rhetoric with which they communicate their ambitions. Fairfax et al., supra note 64, at 250, 255–56 (“[T]he steady blurring of boundaries between public and private conservation programs is too frequently neglected.”).

[125] Conservation easements would likely not have “run with the land” at common law. See Susan F. French, Toward a Modern Law of Servitudes: Reweaving the Ancient Strands, 55 S. Cal. L. Rev. 1261, 1269–71 (1982) (describing the doctrine of “touch and concern” and its traditional place in the enforcement of real covenants and equitable servitudes).

[126] Jeffrey C. Milder, A Framework for Understanding Conservation Development and Its Ecological Implications, 57 BioScience 757, 757 (2007).

[127] Id.

[128] See Fairfax et al., supra note 64, at 180; Brewer, supra note 7, at 41–56.

[129] See, e.g., Tyler Arnold, Note, Double Eagle: Internal Revenue Code § 170(h), 15 Southeastern Envtl. L.J. 457, 467–71 (2007) (discussing IRS reaction to and increased scrutiny of easements for golf courses and patchwork properties); Federico Cheever & Nancy A. McLaughlin, Why Environmental Lawyers Should Know (and Care) About Land Trusts and Their Private Land Conservation Transactions, 34 Envtl. L. Rep. 10,223 (Envtl. Law Inst. 2004).

[130] Arnold, supra note 129, at 468–71. The Internal Revenue Code requires that in order for contributions to be tax deductible the transfers must meet three basic conditions: 1) the taxpayer must contribute a qualified real property interest in perpetuity; 2) the donation must be to a qualified organization exclusively; and 3) the transfer must be for conservation purposes exclusively. See 26 U.S.C. § 170(h)(1)(A)–(C) (2006). These three prerequisites then break down into a complex triad of conditions, each of which may generate a variety of risks for parties to a conservation transfer. See infra text accomanying notes 140–44 and accompanying text.

[131] James J. Fishman, Stealth Preemption: The IRS’s Nonprofit Corporate Governance Initiative, 29 Va. Tax Rev. 545, 546–47 (2010).

[132] The tendency of some of these arrangements to demand vigilant oversight and enforcement reminds us of the common sense motivations behind the “touch and concern” doctrine at common law. See Lawrence Berger, A Policy Analysis of Promises Respecting the Use of Land, 55 Minn. L. Rev. 167, 207–20 (1970).

[133] Fishman, supra note 131, at 557 (quoting McCulloch v. Maryland, 17 U.S. 316, 431 (1819)).

[134] Nancy A. McLaughlin, Conservation Easements—A Troubled Adolescence, 26 J. Land Resources & Envtl. L. 47, 49 (2005).

[135] See Stephen J. Small, Federal Tax Law of Conservation Easements, at 6-1 to 6-3 (3d ed. 1994). Internal Revenue Code section 170(h) made sub-fee interests in land into tax-deductible donations whereas previously, only one’s entire interest in the property qualified. Id. at 2-2 to 2-3.

[136] See Treas. Reg. § 1.170-14. Each of the three major conditions has multiple modes of satisfaction, leading to a large number of distinct contingencies within the rule—several of which require their own multi-factored analysis—that may or may not satisfy the restrictions on the deduction. Id. § 1.170A-14(b)–(d) (2003) (establishing the three major conditions, which include qualified real property interest, organization, and conservation purposes). Another subsection provides examples of conservation purposes, id. § 1.170A-14(f), and yet another dwells more extensively on what constitutes enforceability in perpetuity, id. § 1.170A-14(g).

[137] See Internal Revenue Serv., The Agency, Its Mission and Statutory Authority, http://www.irs.gov/irs/article/0,,id=98141,00.html (last visited Feb. 16, 2011) (“The IRS role is to help the large majority of compliant taxpayers with the tax law, while ensuring that the minority who are unwilling to comply pay their fair share.”).

[138] E.g., Joe Stephens & David B. Ottaway, IRS Toughens Scrutiny of Land Gifts, Wash. Post, July 1, 2004, at A01, http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/articles/A19102-2004Jun30.html (last visited Apr. 18, 2011).

[139] See, e.g., Lindstrom, supra note 86, at xi (2008) (warning that due to uncertainty about future legal changes, his book is “a snapshot of a moving picture”).

[140] 471 F.3d 698 (6th Cir. 2006) (affirming Tax Court’s setting aside of Commissioner’s notice of deficiency in appeal regarding a spatially small conservation easement that both Tax Court and Sixth Circuit found constituted a qualified contribution).

[141] 126 T.C. 299 (2006) (affirming IRS’s disallowance of deduction for conservation easement granted in a limited-development scheme in Fairfax County, Virginia because of inadequate conservation purpose in grant limiting development in proximity to grist mill at Mount Vernon).

[142] 994 F.2d 839 (Fed. Cir. 1993) (upholding refund to taxpayers who sued to recover taxes on donated scenic easement by proving donative intent and conservation purposes despite IRS’s conclusions to the contrary).

[143] See, e.g., Small, supra note 135; Arnold, supra note 129; Jonathan M. Burke, Note, A Critical Analysis of Glass v. Commissioner: Why Size Should Matter for Conservation Easements, 61 Tax. Law. 599 (2008).

[144] The requirement of a “qualified organization” under the regulations—together with the “exclusively for conservation purposes” restriction—typically excludes for-profit land development firms from participating, even if their involvement is crucial to a project’s success. See Treas. Reg. § 1.170A-14(c), (e) (2003).

[145] See id. § 1.170A-14(c), (e); Lindstrom, supra note 86, at 130.

[146] See Lindstrom, supra note 86, at xi, 11–12 (providing numerous warnings to the reader about the uncertainty of conservation easement taxation).

[147] See, e.g., Nancy A. McLaughlin, Conservation Easements: Federal Tax Incentives and the Meaning of Perpetuity, in Sophisticated Estate Planning Techniques 345 (A.L.I.-A.B.A. Course of Study, No. SR013, 2009) (advising readers that caution is warranted in valuing and deducting conservation easements of various kinds and that only a “thorough understanding of the various laws that may impact the administration of perpetual conservation easements” can reduce the risks associated therewith).

[148] Julie Ann Gustanski, Protecting the Land: Conservation Easements, Voluntary Actions, and Private Lands, in Protecting the Land: Conservation Easements Past, Present, and Future, supra note 114, at 9, 14–22 (discussing the great variety of forms that conservation easements, restrictions, and servitudes take in different states and how often different parties tailor these instruments to their particular circumstances).

[149] See Thomas W. Merrill & Henry E. Smith, Optimal Standardization in the Law of Property: The Numerus Clausus Principle, 110 Yale L.J. 1, 26–27 (2000) (noting that the creation of new or idiosyncratic property interests impose information costs on society).

[150] See Unif. Conservation Easement Act, Prefatory Note, 12 U.L.A. 165, 167–68 (2008) (“[T]he Act allows great latitude to the parties . . . to arrange their relationship as they see fit. . . .[Its purpose is to] sweep[] away certain common law impediments which might otherwise undermine the easements’ validity, particularly those held in gross.”).

[151] Thus, quite unlike property forms generally, conservation easements look like highly tailored, party-centric contracts that rely on complicated governance-like arrangements typically needed in, for example, complex commercial relationships. See Thomas W. Merrill & Henry E. Smith, The Property/Contract Interface, 101 Colum. L. Rev. 773, 789–809 (2001).

[152] See Douglas Baird & Thomas Jackson, Information, Uncertainty, and the Transfer of Property, 13 J. Legal Stud. 299, 300–01 (1984) (discussing the importance of legal rules for helping property purchasers make informed choices to minimize losses).

[153] Coordination toward common ends among land use planners and the conservation community remains astoundingly dependent upon word-of-mouth connections that are too often insufficient. See David N. Bengston et al., Public Policies for Managing Urban Growth and Protecting Open Space: Policy Instruments and Lessons Learned in the United States, 69 Landscape & Urb. Plan. 271, 281–82 (2004). In the few states where local governments are granted a reviewing role in proposed conservation easements this concern may be correspondingly reduced. See Levin, supra note 91, at 12 (listing Massachusetts, Montana, Nebraska, Oregon, and Virginia as “requir[ing] some degree of public comment and/or approval for the creation of an easement”); Bray, supra note 110, at 153–54 (describing Massachusetts’s experience). Virginia, though it mandates no local approval, requires that proposed conservation easements conform to any governing local comprehensive plan. See Levin, supra note 91, at 12.

[154] See Ronald J. Gilson et al., Braiding: The Interactions of Formal and Informal Contracting in Theory, Practice, and Doctrine, 110 Colum. L. Rev. 1377 (2010) (discussing differing enforcement strategies for formal and informal contracting in the modern business world); see also Ronald Gilson et al., Contracting for Innovation: Vertical Disintegration and Interfirm Collaboration, 109 Colum. L. Rev. 431 (2009) (discussing the rise of new supply patterns with unconventional enforcement systems).

[155] See supra notes 65–68 and accompanying text.

[156] An urgent need for “bridge” financing in conservation acquisitions spurred the rise of such intermediaries of conservation finance. See McBryde et al., supra note 114, at 78. There is no reason that ownership/brokerage intermediaries cannot exist as well.

[157] See Fishman, supra note 131, at 549 & n.11. Again, the Internal Revenue Code has dictated this prominent patterning of conservation practice. IRS has made known that will seek the revocation of a firm’s 501(c)(3) tax-exempt status in cases where it finds the firm has engaged in prohibited transactions. See, e.g., McLennan, 994 F.2d 839, 840 n.2 (Fed. Cir. 1993).

[158] Fishman, supra note 131, at 550–51.

[159] One founder of the Natural Resources Defense Council tells of IRS badgering and harassment—apparently led by Nixon appointees hostile to the organization’s purposes—that ultimately cost the organization over $100,000 in legal fees just to receive nonprofit status. See Adams et al., supra note 100, at 23–30.

[160] See Fishman, supra note 131, at 551–57 (describing the “traditional locus” of nonprofit governance rules as state law and the creeping federalization of the field by IRS rules, regulations, rulings, circulars, etc.). “Beyond certain fundamental mandates, state nonprofit statutes do not prescribe specific corporate governance approaches. In most jurisdictions, nonprofit governance procedures are matters of internal organizational decision.” Id. at 553.

[161] William M. Gentry & Matthew E. Kahn, Understanding Spatial Variation in Tax Sheltering: The Role of Demographics, Ideology and Taxes, 32 Int’l Regional Sci. Rev. 400, 422 (2009).

[162] See Evelyn Brody, The Limits of Charity Fiduciary Law, 57 Md. L. Rev. 1400, 1405–06 (1998) (noting the weakness of the legal controls on nonprofit governance generally); Gary W. Jenkins, Incorporation Choice, Uniformity, and the Reform of Nonprofit State Law, 41 Ga. L. Rev. 1113, 1133 (2007) (“[T]he modern economic forces that have required nonprofits to adapt to new market and funding realities by moving into commercial activities, developing fee-for-service models, and professionalizing their operations are in tension with the antiquated nineteenth-century image of charity prevalent in the public’s understanding of charitable organizations.”).

[163] See Lester M. Salamon, America’s Nonprofit Sector: A Primer 22 (2d ed. 1999) (“[I]f the U.S. nonprofit sector were a separate country, it would exceed the gross domestic products of most countries in the world, including Australia, Canada, India, the Netherlands, and Spain.”); Jenkins, supra note 162, at 1120–21 (noting that throughout its recent unprecedented expansion, the nonprofit sector has been “challenged by questions of effectiveness and accountability”).

[164] See Fishman, supra note 131, at 558–78 (noting IRS’s nonprofit sector governance initiative and the measures it has implemented to improve nonprofit corporate governance).

[165] See id.; Jenkins, supra note 162, at 1131–35 (describing the push for more accountability and comparing the nonprofit sector to Enron, Tyco, and other recent corporate failures without specifying what constitutes adequate accountability in the governance of firms that do not seek to make a profit).

[166] See Fishman, supra note 131, at 568, 589 (describing IRS’s recent attempts to use Form 990 as one example of the blunt instruments available to IRS); Jenkins, supra note 162, at 1128 (noting that “state attorneys general have long been criticized for their permissive oversight” and, according to a survey by the author, “states have dedicated a median of one full-time equivalent attorney to charitable oversight”).

[167] See, e.g., Richard A. Fuller et al., Replacing Underperforming Protected Areas Achieves Better Conservation Outcomes, 466 Nature 365 (2010); Peter Kareiva, Trade-In to Trade-Up, 466 Nature 322 (2010).

[168] Any deduction must be documented in accordance with the terms of I.R.C. § 170(h) and the governing IRS rules in Treasury Regulation § 1.170A-14. See supra note 136. Ordinarily this includes IRS Form 8283, “Noncash Charitable Contributions,” a form that will document the contribution’s deductibility, including the supposed “perpetuity” of the “qualified real property interest.” See Treas. Reg. § 1.170A-14(a) (2003). IRS has said that it will pay particular attention to charitable contributions of the sort mentioned in the text. See Notice 2004-41, 2004-28 I.R.B. 31, 31.

[169] See Stephen J. Small, Proper—and Improper—Deductions for Conservation Easement Donations, Including Developer Donations, 105 Tax Notes 217, 219 (2004). The very sorts of transactions that caught the Senate Finance Committee’s attention in 2004 were TNC’s “conservation buyer” transactions—legal at the time but later frowned upon by the Senate, the Washington Post, and much of the public. See id. at 218–19. In such a transaction, a nonprofit acquires a property, unbundles and retains a conservation easement that allows for a residence to be built (generally), and then sells the burdened property to a buyer seeking a home site but otherwise uninterested in the property’s fuller development. See id. at 219.

[170] See, e.g., Helvering v. Mitchell, 303 U.S. 391, 399 (1938) (“To ensure full and honest disclosure, to discourage fraudulent attempts to evade the tax, Congress imposes sanctions. Such sanctions may confessedly be either criminal or civil.”)

[171] Notice 2004-41, 2004-28 I.R.B. 31, 31 (emphasis added).

[172] In most states, easements can be reformed after creation—either by the express terms of the enabling statute or by various doctrines applicable to the reform of charitable trusts. See McLaughlin, supra note 88, at 426. But not every change or amendment satisfies the requirements for reformation, and the resulting rigidities have garnered much more speculation and commentary than firm legal precedent. See, e.g., id. at 426–27. But see Bjork v. Draper, 886 N.E.2d 563, 574 (Ill. App. 2008) (refusing amendment or modification of a conservation easement).

[173] Appraisers are easier targets for IRS because the IRS rules require that qualified appraisals of any contribution’s value be documented along with the claimed deduction. Treas. Reg. § 1.170A-14(i) (2010). Substantiation of such appraisals is another area where a robust knowledge of the tax code and IRS practice is imperative, because the burden is always on the taxpayer to substantiate a deduction. See Small, supra note 169, at 221–23. How could an appraiser rationally compare the public benefits of “relatively natural habitat of fish, wildlife, or plants” on a given parcel, for example, Treas. Reg. § 1.170A-14(d)(1), with the dollar value of an itemized deduction taken by some person for some given taxable period? Id. § 1.170A-14(h)(3)(i).

[174] See Lindstrom, supra note 86, at 95 (“Soliciting contributions based on projected tax savings can get a land trust into trouble very fast. This is because, in some cases, such solicitation may be considered the marketing of a tax shelter; the unauthorized practice of law; or, where projections and actual benefits are significantly different, fraud or misrepresentation.”).

[175] Imagining how one could successfully unwind some of these deals underscores the points being registered in a growing literature on the underappreciated wisdom of many common law property doctrines. See, e.g., Michael A. Heller, The Tragedy of the Anticommons: Property in the Transition from Marx to Markets, 111 Harv. L. Rev. 621 (1998) (noting several reasons why the law should guard against the fragmentation of productive assets into infinitely separate shares of the whole); Julia D. Mahony, Perpetual Restrictions on Land and the Problem of the Future, 88 Va. L. Rev. 739 (2002) (critiquing the perpetuity requirement in conservation easement practice); Merrill & Smith, supra note 149 (praising common law property’s tendency toward standardization).

[176] See Carl J. Walters & C. S. Holling, Large-Scale Management Experiments and Learning By Doing, 71 Ecology 2060 (1990). William H. Simon, The Community Economic Development Movement: Law, Business, and the New Social Policy (2001), provides an insightful accounting of this kind of learning-by-doing through ad hoc partnering and directly deliberative problem solving in place-based communities.

[177] See Wondolleck & Yaffee, supra note 78, at 51–66.

[178] See Steven L. Yaffee, Learning from Experience: What Does the History of Ecosystem-Based Management Suggest for Collaborative Strategies for Managing Animal Migrations?, 41 Envtl. L. 655, 677 (2011) (estimating that half of all the collaborative processes Yaffee’s laboratory has studied succeed because they have some “regulatory driver” in the form of a federally-listed endangered or threatened species).

[179] See U.S. Fish & Wildlife Serv., supra note 49 (indicating that a large percentage of the country is not designated critical habitat, the major federal regulatory prompt).

[180] See, e.g., Cherney, supra note 77 (discussing the efforts of the Bridger-Teton National Forest Supervisor and private parties to protect the migration of pronghorn elk in the absence of federal regulation doing so).

[181] See Charles F. Sabel, A Real-Time Revolution in Routines, in The Firm as a Collaborative Community: Reconstructing Trust in the Knowledge Economy 106 (Charles Heckscher & Paul Adler eds., 2006); Michael C. Dorf & Charles F. Sabel, A Constitution of Democratic Experimentalism, 98 Colum. L. Rev. 267 (1998); Charles F. Sabel & Jonathan Zeitlin, Learning from Difference: The New Architecture of Experimentalist Governance in the EU, 14 Eur. L.J. 271 (2008) (discussing the European Union’s method of monitoring Member States’ governance in seeking effective governing practices).

[182] See Brewer, supra note 7, at 1, 177–226 (indicating that the majority of land trusts are small and local and discussing only three larger organizations as part of the history and current state of the land trust movement: the Land Trust Alliance, The Nature Conservancy, and the Trust for Public Lands).

[183] See Levin, supra note 91, at 13 (“Although every statute requires easements to be recorded, very few states have any separate tracking, mapping or registering requirements for easements.”); Morris & Rissman, supra note 103, at 1266 (“There are no publicly available maps showing where conservation easements are concentrated or how their spatial distribution is related to that of other protected lands.”).

[184] See John O’Looney, Beyond Maps: GIS and Decision Making in Local Government 12 (2000).

[185] See Sean P. Ociepka, Protecting the Public Benefit: Crafting Precedent for Citizen Enforcement of Conservation Easements, 58 Me. L. Rev. 225, 229 (2006) (discussing lack of uniformity in state conservation easement statutes); see also Levin, supra note 91, at 44 (discussing wide variation in state conservation easement statutes).

[186] Compare Audubon Pa., supra note 1 (“The Kittatinny Coalition was formed in 2000 to bring together all the organizations and agencies that have been involved in ridge conservation activities at the local, regional, state or federal level.”), with Malpai Borderlands Group Newsl. (Malpai Borderlands Grp., Douglas, Ariz.), November 2009, at 6, 7, available at http://www.malpaiborderlandsgroup.org/Admin/Upload_Folder/Malpai%20Borderlands%20Group%20Newsletter%202009.pdf (listing cooperators, including federal agencies, state agencies, and private sector groups, and listing the board of directors, including members of numerous cooperators); see also Wondolleck & Yaffee, supra note 78, at 4 (characterizing MBG as one of the few such groups that have received “considerable public attention”). While KC has not yet been formally incorporated, see State of the Ridge, supra note 3 (referring continuously to partner organizations rather than a formally incorporated group), MBG was formed as a nonprofit corporation in 1993, see Allen, supra note 8, at 18.

[187] See text accompanying supra notes 87–89 and accompanying text.

[188] See U.S. Envtl. Prot. Agency, Community-Based Environmental Protection: A Resource Book for Protecting Ecosystems and Communities, at 1-1 to 1-5 (1997), available at http://www.epa.gov/care/library/howto.pdf (discussing the role of environmental groups structured similarly to KC and MBG); see also Audubon Pa., supra note 1 (listing threats to the Kittatinny Ridge).

[189] Bill McDonald, The Formation and History of the Malpai Borderlands Group 2, available at http://www.malpaiborderlandsgroup.org/The_Formation_And_History_Of_The
_Malpai_Borderla1.pdf.

[190] See Nathan F. Sayre, Working Wilderness: The Malpai Borderlands Group and the Future of the Western Range 53, 58–59 (2005); Joe Stephens & David B. Ottoway, Nonprofit Sells Scenic Acreage to Allies at a Loss, Wash. Post, May 6, 2003, http://www.
washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2007/06/26/AR2007062601001.html (last visited May 18, 2011); see supra note 114. TNC found its conservation buyer, Drummond Hadley, and the early form of the public/private–profit/nonprofit MBG started from there. See Allen, supra note 8, at 18–19.

[191] McDonald, supra note 189, at 2–3.

[192] See id., supra note 189; Sayre, supra note 190, at 50–66 (2005) (discussing the history of the Gray Ranch and its connection to the Malpai Borderlands Group).

[193] See Sayre, supra note 190, at 144–57; Allen, supra note 8, at 19–21.

[194] See Land Trust Alliance, Leadership in Land Conservation, http://www.landtrustalliance.org/about (last visited Apr. 4, 2011) (“The Land Trust Alliance promotes voluntary private land conservation to benefit communities and natural systems. We are the national convener, strategist and representative of more than 1,700 land trusts across America.”); see also Brewer, supra note 7, at 178–79 (noting that the LTA’s activities include publishing a newsletter, magazine, and books, as well as encouraging land trusts to adopt best ethical and practical principles for land trust conduct); see also Gustanski, supra note 148, at 482 (concluding that an ideal conservation decision making process “[a]ids in determining or recognizing common community goals and values . . . [i]nvolves all stakeholders . . . [c]oordinates the view of those affected by decisions made . . . [and i]ntegrates the perspectives of experts (e.g., land trusts, planners, farmers, ecologists, developers)”).

[195] The Land Trust Alliance’s nascent accreditation program, an outgrowth of its long-developing standards and practices for land trusts, is a promising step toward such a goal. See Land Trust Alliance, Land Trust Standards and Practices 1–15 (2004), available at http://www.landtrustalliance.org/training/sp/lt-standards-practices07.pdf (describing ethical and technical guidelines for land trusts). Such an accreditation remains entirely voluntary, however, and likely outside the reach of many land trusts without the capacity, nor any immediate, material reason, to seek it. See Land Trust Accreditation Comm’n, The Accreditation Seal: A Mark of Distinction in Land Conservation (2010), available at http://www.landtrustaccreditation.org/images/uploads/AbouttheSeal.pdf. A regulator like a state’s Attorney General, or a state’s legislature, however, would have any number of tools to incentivize such accreditation. See generally Levin, supra note 91 (describing the state of conservation easement enabling statutes and the role of the attorney general).

[196] See Brewer, supra note 7, at 176–84 (discussing trends in LTA’s history); Elizabeth Byers & Karin Marchetti Ponte, The Conservation Easement Handbook 7–14 (2005) (discussing the LTA census and conservation easement trends). LTA has worked for more than 25 years and bills itself as the “national convener, strategist and representative of more than 1,700 land trusts across America.” Land Trust Alliance, Leadership in Land Conservation, http://www.landtrustalliance.org/about (last visited Feb. 16, 2010). Most importantly, “[b]y early 1999, LTA had begun to de-emphasize the idea that more land trusts are always a good thing.” Brewer, supra note 7, at 182. LTA still lacks any kind of inducement or other practical authority when it comes to merging or consolidating land trusts that are “too small to succeed,” but this kind of inducement can always be added by others in support of LTA’s guidance.

[197] See Land Trust Alliance, supra note 195; Milder et al., supra note 82, at 16.

[198] See, e.g., Aldrich & Wyerman, supra note 96 (describing the results of the 2005 LTA census and trends).

[199] See Brewer, supra note 7, at 182 (“Marginally effective land trusts probably ought to merge . . . .”).

[200] Robert J. Brulle, Agency, Democracy, and Nature: The U.S. Environmental Movement from a Critical Theory Perspective 251–53, 252 tbls.10.15 to 10.17 (2000) (categorizing the U.S. environmental nonprofit sector according to various “discourses” and tracking the rhetoric and funding strategies used in each in competition with the others).

[201] Walters & Holling, supra note 176, at 2066.

[202] See generally Newburn et al., supra note 84 (discussing the need for conservation targeting models, analyzing current models, and noting important economic factors that should be considered in future models).

[203] See supra notes 171–76 and accompanying text.

[204] This is a role that IRS or states’ attorneys general can and perhaps should play. Parts of an information return could certainly be for other than tax purposes. See Fishman, supra note 131, at 558–60; see also Morris & Rissman, supra note 103, at 1278–80 (noting the need for some powerful agent with broad jurisdiction to make collection of spatial and other data on conservation easements and other acquisitions broadly useable).

[205] See Murdoch et al., supra note 111, at 387 (acknowledging that information gaps are and will remain abundant but that “[return on investment analysis] is not just about giving answers—it provides a structured way of learning”).

[206] In the most comprehensive study of disclosure as a social ordering tool, Archon Fung and colleagues found that highly effective disclosure systems succeed only because the information they provide becomes “an intrinsic part of the decision-making routines of users and disclosers.” Archon Fung et al., Full Disclosure: The Perils and Promise of Transparency 90 (2007). “Simply providing more information to consumers, investors, employees, and community residents will not assure that risks are diminished or that schools, banks, and other institutions improve their practices.” Id. Rather, targeted transparency is most likely to work where data are useable, portable, reliable, and their disclosure and uptake is sustainable. Id. at 176–82.

[207] Jonathan Zittrain argues that a generative system is one that produces “unanticipated change through unfiltered contributions from broad and varied audiences.” Jonathan Zittrain, The Future of the Internet and How to Stop It 70 (2008) (emphasis omitted). The five principal determinants of generativity are

(1) how extensively a system leverages a set of possible tasks; (2) how well it can be adapted to a range of tasks; (3) how easily new contributors can master it; (4) how accessible it is to those ready and able to build on it; and (5) how transferable any changes are to others—including (and perhaps especially) nonexperts.

Id. at 71. Conservation depends vitally on generativity’s chief input—participation—but with tools like conservation easements and threats like IRS so prominently a part of its growing architecture, there are reasons to worry that generativity’s chief output—innovation—will remain bottled up. To whatever extent we imagine conservation as a system, we would be wise to enhance its generativity as Zittrain sketches this property of systems.

[208] See Colburn, Taking Habitat, supra note 17, at 289–300 (explaining how government/nonprofit partnerships are beneficial).

[209] See id.

[210] See, e.g., Colburn, Indignity, supra note 17, at 428–29 (explaining the numerous considerations involved in conservation biology and answering the question, “[W]hat should be saved?”).

[211] See Brewer, supra note 7, at 4, 9, 13 (explaining that conservation has strong American roots and has enjoyed broad public support).

[212] See Colburn, Taking Habitat, supra note 17, at 299 (asserting that the conservation easement presents risks for conservation while rising in cost, undermining its effectiveness); Korngold, supra note 88, at 1039 (arguing that the costs and risks of conservation easements are substantial); Morris & Rissman, supra note 103, at 1246 (explaining that lack of conservation easement tracking and data makes it difficult for policy analysts to evaluate the costs and benefits of conservation easements).

[213] John Adams recounts the story of NRDC’s effort to build a sustainable paper mill in the Bronx in the 1990s by partnering with New York State, New York City, the Clinton Administration, MoDo of Sweden, various construction firms, and a host of philanthropic heavyweights. Adams et al., supra note 100, at 155–62. Besides the many mutual animosities that killed the project—Democrat to Republican (and vice versa), environmentalists to developers (and vice versa), local officials to state (and vice versa), etc.—NRDC discovered an important truth in the process: our law is better at stopping bad things from happening than at making good things happen. Id. at 162.

[214] See supra text accompanying notes 86–88.

[215] See supra text accompanying notes 86–88.

[216] See, e.g., Cappaert v. United States, 426 U.S. 128, 131, 145 (1976) (upholding federal authority to reserve unappropriated water rights independent of state law restrictions on doing so); United States v. Albrecht, 496 F.2d 906, 910–11 (8th Cir. 1974) (upholding federal authority to create an easement not recognized at common law and enforcing it against successors in interest).

[217] See, e.g., Act of Aug. 7, 1961, Pub. L. No. 87-126, 75 Stat. 284 (establishing Cape Cod National Seashore and empowering the Secretary of Interior to acquire title to lands within the designated “seashore” through various mechanisms and empowering Secretary to exercise veto authority over the zoning policies of six Massachusetts towns within the proclamation boundary).

[218] See Colburn, Localism’s Ecology, supra note 17, at 951–52; Colburn, Habitat and Humanity, supra note 17, at 146, 149; Colburn, Taking Habitat, supra note 17, at 256.

Securing the Free Movement of Wildlife: Lessons from the American West’s Longest Land Mammal Migration

Securing the Free Movement of Wildlife: Lessons from the American West’s Longest Land Mammal Migration

By

David N. Cherney*

Large mammal migrations are in decline globally, despite the popularity of innovative, large-scale management tools. From an ecological perspective, the problem may appear obvious—the ever increasing number of physical barriers to wildlife movement (e.g., habitat fragmentation, increasing human population, roads, industrial development) leading to the continued disruption and loss of wildlife movements. Effective methods of addressing these barriers are often hindered by political conflict between divergent political actors. Commentators often assert that collaboration and coordination among diverse interest groups throughout the geographic confines of a migration are necessary to secure the protection of migratory species. This Article revisits the protection of the longest mammal migration of the lower forty-eight states, a 170-mile pronghorn antelope (Antilocapra americana) migration between Grand Teton National Park and the Upper Green River Basin in western Wyoming. This case suggests that, while collaboration among diverse stakeholders is a worthy aspiration, collaboration among all stakeholders is not necessary for the protection of all migratory species. A key to developing successful protection strategies is to correctly identify and address the problems faced by conflicting perspectives. In the case of this pronghorn migration, two different solutions addressed the problems faced by conflicting perspectives. The first was a political (symbolic) outcome that reduced political intensity between divergent stakeholders by allowing both sides to claim victory independent of one another. The second was a policy solution, disconnected from the political outcome, that significantly reduced physical barriers to the free movement of pronghorn along the migratory corridor.

I. Introduction

Large mammal migrations are in decline.[1] Nowhere is this more evident than at the Greater Yellowstone Ecosystem, where 58%, 78%, and 100% of the historic long-distance migrations of elk (Cervus elaphus), pronghorn antelope (Antilocapra americana), and bison (Bison bison bison) respectively, have been lost.[2] Despite the truncated movements of these species, the region is still home to the longest bison, elk, pronghorn, and mule deer (Odocoileus hemionus) migrations in the United States.[3] A variety of conservation efforts are underway to preserve the phenomenon of migration in the Yellowstone system.[4] These campaigns predominantly focus on securing the protection of migratory corridors through transboundary management and other large-scale migration conservation strategies.[5]

In the Yellowstone region, one of the highest-profile cases of migration conservation is the protection of a 340-mile (round trip) pronghorn migration from Grand Teton National Park to the Upper Green River Basin in western Wyoming. Conservationists justify the importance of this migration on three grounds. First, this movement is the longest documented terrestrial large mammal migration in North and South America (excluding barren ground caribou in Alaska and the Yukon).[6] Second, the disruption of this migration will likely cause the localized extinction of pronghorn in Grand Teton National Park.[7] Third, portions of the migratory corridor have been used by pronghorn for more than 6000 years.[8]

The initial conservation effort to protect this migration was plagued with controversy.[9] Most stakeholders agreed that maintaining this migration in perpetuity is a worthwhile aspiration for the regional community.[10] However, significant political conflict existed among actors on what strategies should be utilized to conserve the migration.[11] After five years of relative inaction, government actors and private actors separately implemented two major initiatives to conserve the migration in 2008.[12] Today, many conservationists view the protection of this migration as one of the preeminent examples of large mammal migration conservation in the world. This Article examines institutional features responsible for this qualified success story. This Article aims to identify the critical features in the conservation management creation process that allowed stakeholders to transition from political gridlock to substantive conservation of the migration.

II. Pronghorn Migration Overview

Migratory behavior in animals is difficult to distinguish from other forms of geographic dispersal.[13] However, migrations are most easily conceived of as the seasonal movement of animals between two distinct habitats.[14] This Article focuses on a seasonal migration of pronghorn antelope between Grand Teton National Park and the Upper Green River Basin in western Wyoming. The pronghorn migration occurs across a heterogeneous ecological, political, and jurisdictional landscape. This Part provides a brief overview, describing critical features relevant to the conservation of the pronghorn migration.

Of Wyoming’s approximately 525,000 pronghorn antelope,[15] approximately 200 to 300 pronghorn summer in Grand Teton National Park.[16] This population of pronghorn does not stay in Grand Teton National Park during the winter because the deep snow conditions in the park are not favorable to pronghorn survival.[17] This population’s migration was first documented in the 1950s,[18] but concern over the future of this pronghorn population did not surface until the planning process for the Jackson Hole National Elk Refuge Environmental Impact Statement in 1999.[19] During discussions over the protection of migratory elk in Teton County, Wyoming, the region’s environmental community realized that this area is also home to the longest endemic land mammal migration in North America.[20] This migration is one of just two long-distance pronghorn migrations in the Greater Yellowstone Ecosystem.[21]

The migration begins near Jackson Hole, Wyoming, in the eastern portions of Grand Teton National Park. The terrain where pronghorn antelope reside is typified by open sagebrush habitat.[22] In the fall, the pronghorn move into the Gros Ventre River Drainage in the Bridger-Teton National Forest.[23] The geography of this portion of the migratory corridor is invariant and characterized by steep rugged terrain that, at places, is no more than 100 meters wide.[24] Such topography is unusual for pronghorn, as they typically inhabit flat, wide-open areas where the species’ exceptional eyesight and running abilities serve as a defense mechanism against predation.[25] The pronghorn continue their migration by entering a mix of public land owned by the Bureau of Land Management (BLM) and privately owned land in the Upper Green, north of Cora, Wyoming, in Sublette County.[26] This portion of the migratory corridor is also invariant and prone to constrictions.[27] At Trappers’ Point National Monument near the town of Pinedale, the migratory corridor transitions to open-range and terminates in the Upper Green River Basin of Sublette and Sweetwater Counties, Wyoming.[28] In the basin’s expansive range, the migratory pronghorn population joins 100,000 bighorn sheep, elk, mule deer, and pronghorn for the winter.[29]

Ecological threats to the pronghorn migration fall into two major categories: obstacles and habitat destruction.[30] The invariant portions of the migratory corridor, where the passageways for pronghorn movement constrict, are referred to as “bottlenecks.”[31] Conservationists fear that human development within these bottlenecks could physically restrict the pronghorn migration because pronghorn antelope have trouble jumping over fences.[32] The inability of pronghorn antelope to navigate past fences was documented in 1983, when several hundred migrating pronghorn died en route to their winter grounds when a newly constructed fence obstructed their migration.[33] Additionally, conservationists worry that natural gas development within the more expansive areas in the southern portion of the migratory corridor will disrupt the migration through behavioral changes.[34]

The pronghorn summer and winter ranges provide a useful framework for understanding the socioeconomic and political landscape of this pronghorn migration. The differing socioeconomic and political perspectives are central to understanding conflict in this case. The pronghorn’s summer range, Teton County, is the most liberal county in Wyoming,[35] and it is the wealthiest county in the United States.[36] Financial investments represent the dominant form of personal income.[37] In contrast, the economy of the pronghorn’s winter range, Sublette and Sweetwater Counties, is driven primarily by resource extraction.[38] Per capita income of these counties is less than half of Teton County.[39] Sublette and Sweetwater Counties are politically conservative[40] and ranching is central to the identity of many people in these counties. As such, the loss of ranchland is a major concern in the local politics of these counties.[41] The American Farmland Trust estimates that up to 336,000 acres of ranchland in Sublette County, approximately eleven percent of the county’s area, will be converted to rural housing development by 2020.[42] The political division between the summer and winter range is also evident in the distribution of environmental nonprofit organizations along the migratory corridor. Environmental nonprofit organizations tend to lean towards Democratic ideologies.[43] Thirty-two environmental nonprofit organizations have an office in Teton County.[44] In contrast, only four environmental nonprofit organizations have offices in Sublette or Sweetwater Counties.[45]

Despite divergences in socioeconomic status and political affiliation, consensus exists across the political spectrum that maintaining the pronghorn antelope migration in the Greater Yellowstone Ecosystem in perpetuity is a worthy goal.[46] Conflicts over conserving the migratory corridor are primarily limited to differences in defining the problem, or “problem definitions,” and methods for determining which strategies are appropriate to achieve successful protection.[47] A previous study on the migration’s policy process suggests that there are three major political problem definitions asserted by stakeholders: the ecological-scientific definition, the local rights definition, and the cultural value definition.[48]

The ecological-scientific definition frames the problem as a lack of formal protection for a presumed intrinsic value of migration.[49] Stakeholders who subscribe to the ecological-scientific definition suggest approaches that range from the development of a new federally protected area to a memorandum of understanding between the major federal landowners.[50] Ecological-scientific stakeholders generally advocate federal protection.[51] The local rights definition frames the problem in terms of individual property rights and interests.[52] Stakeholders representing this view assert that effective protection can occur through bottom-up informed dialogue involving landowners on the proper management of the pronghorn migration corridor.[53] Viewing the conservation of the pronghorn antelope migration in parallel with individual conservation management for private benefit, the local right stakeholders generally advocate the management of the pronghorn migration conservation through private individual management of private lands.[54] The cultural value definition overlaps with certain aspects of the two other definitions; the cultural value definition frames the problem as a need to maximize the conservation of the migration while concurrently imposing the least infringement on other values.[55] Similar to the ecological-scientific definition, the cultural value definition generally views the migration as having inherent value that deserves conservation. Unlike the ecological-scientific definition, the cultural value definition argues that federal action is unnecessary.[56]

These differing definitions conflicted during the decision-making process, creating a decision-making bottleneck that limited the successful implementation of programs designed to conserve the migratory pronghorn population. At least three institutional factors have presented challenges for resolving political differences in this case.[57] First, there is no formal authoritative signal over which decision-making body is ultimately responsible for managing the pronghorn migration.[58] A number of governmental agencies and landowners have the ability to make controlling decisions that impact the migration.[59] For example, all landowners along the migratory corridor can add fencing that may impede movement. However, they are not accountable if their actions impede the migration.[60] Second, the existing forums are inadequate for stakeholders to engage each other in productive and deliberative dialogue.[61] The two major forums for discussing the conservation of the pronghorn migratory corridor are the regional news media and the planning processes for agency decision making.[62] Third, the perspectives of most participants are relatively inflexible.[63] Strict adherence to conflicting stakeholder problem definitions makes for little room for democratic compromise.[64]

III. Policy Responses

The term “policy” frequently connotes the enactment of rules or law through governing bodies. However, such definitions are unnecessarily narrow. Policy scholar Roger Pielke, Jr. defines “policy” as “a commitment to a particular course of action.”[65] Using this broad definition, policies are not restricted to formal lawmaking bodies. Rather, this definition is synonymous with all decisions made by private and public actors.[66] The pronghorn migration requires the use of a broad definition, as decisions made by private landowners along the migration corridor are critically important to the migration’s future. Policy responses are simply changes to status quo management.

The policy sciences framework[67] suggests three broad criteria to evaluate any policy.[68] First, is the policy rational?[69] This criterion refers to the technical feasibility of achieving a desired outcome.[70] For example, the criterion could be used to determine if removing fencing is a scientifically sound solution to facilitate the movement of pronghorn. Second, is the policy politically practical?[71] This criterion recognizes that policy solutions that are technically elegant but politically unviable will ultimately be unsuccessful in practice.[72] One might use this criterion to judge if it is politically supportable to create a new protected area throughout the entire length of the migratory corridor. Finally, is the policy morally justified?[73] This criterion recognizes that policies should be congruent with the widely held beliefs of a community.[74] For example, determining whether the regional community agrees with the goal of maintaining the migration in perpetuity. This Part uses these three criteria as a broad framework to discuss the initial and current policy responses to secure the future of the migration.

The initial attempts to conserve the pronghorn migration occurred in 2002 during the planning processes for the BLM Pinedale Region Resource Management Plan, the Pinedale Anticline Environmental Impact Statement, the Johan Infill Project Environmental Impact Statement, and the Bridger-Teton National Forest’s Forest Plan Revision.[75] The environmentalist community disproportionally focused on the Pinedale Region Resource Management Plan,[76] a document which set guiding principles for mineral extraction in more than 900,000 acres in western Wyoming.[77]

The Pinedale Anticline in Sublette County is the second largest known natural gas reserve in the continental United States.[78] The reserve consists of approximately 40 trillion cubic feet of natural gas.[79] The wellhead value of the 20 to 25 trillion cubic feet of extractable natural gas equates to $68 to $85 billion in 2009 prices.[80] Environmental groups tried to influence the BLM planning process by constructing a David and Goliath story of migrating pronghorn versus the natural gas industry.[81] Simultaneously, the environmental groups began a campaign to create a permanently protected migration corridor through public presentations and news media.[82] Both strategies led to significant backlash in Sublette County, where political opponents stressed the need for a local solution on both issues.[83]

In an attempt to reduce conflict and implement a local solution, state representative Monte Olsen established the Trapper’s Point Working Group (TPWG) at the behest of Shell Oil in 2003.[84] The group’s purpose was to develop a collaborative agreement among divergent stakeholders on how natural gas development should proceed near Trappers Point Historical Monument to conserve migrating pronghorn and other wildlife movements. Trappers Point is the southernmost bottleneck in the migration corridor and it is of critical concern among conservationists.[85] The geography creates a natural constriction that is approximately 1.6 km wide.[86] In addition to the natural constriction, housing and commercial development has reduced the effective corridor at Trappers Point by half.[87] All three major political perspectives—ecological-scientific, local rights, and cultural value—were represented in the working group.[88] Membership in the TPWG included BLM, environmental nonprofit organizations, the fossil fuel industry, the Sublette County Commission, the Sublette Planning and Zoning Department, the Wyoming Department of Transportation, and the Wyoming Governor’s Office.[89] The TPWG met four times between October 1 and December 8, 2003.[90] However, the group collapsed on December 14, 2003, when the group failed to reach a consensus by the deadline imposed by BLM.[91] The TPWG was the only formal attempt at collaboration among all political groups to secure the future of the pronghorn migratory corridor.[92] No fully inclusive collaborative groups have formed since.

When BLM unveiled its new management plan in the spring of 2007, protection of the pronghorn migration corridor appeared unlikely. Environmental groups were still pushing for the development of a permanently protected migration corridor. While this proposal was a technically proficient means for maintaining the morally justified common regional goal of securing the pronghorn migration in perpetuity, the political viability of the nonprofit organizations’ strategy was failing. Contrasting natural gas development with migrating pronghorn in BLM’s planning process created a narrative of wildlife versus livelihoods, alienating the cultural value community. Similarly, suggestions to create a new protected area met resistance by the local rights community.[93]

A turn of events occurred in 2008, when two major policy responses created substantial protection for the migrating pronghorn population. These were the Path of the Pronghorn, created by a change to the forest management plan of the Bridger-Teton National Forest, and the Corridor Conservation Campaign, created by the community of Sublette County. The following Subparts discuss these innovations.

A. Path of the Pronghorn

The original vision articulated by conservationists for the Path of the Pronghorn[94] was to create a new protected area—the first ever national migration corridor—as a comprehensive means to secure the long-term viability of the migrating pronghorn population.[95] This proposal, in its most complete form, included all public and private land along the migratory corridor.[96] The major ecological threats to the migratory corridor are human development in the form of rural housing, fencing, and natural gas development.[97] From a technical standpoint there is no doubt that the most effective means of securing the migration corridor’s future is by protecting the entire corridor from all forms of human development. However, the acceptability of the political criterion for the original proposal was on more tenuous grounds. The proposal was highly supported by individuals from the ecological-scientific perspective, but it was vehemently opposed by stakeholders with the local rights perspective.[98]

On May 31, 2008, the Bridger-Teton National Forest Supervisor Kniffy Hamilton amended the forest’s management plan to require that “all projects, activities, and infrastructure authorized in the designated Pronghorn Migration Corridor will be designed, timed and/or located to allow continued successful migration of the pronghorn that summer in Jackson Hole and winter in the Green River basin.”[99] Additionally, Hamilton signed an agreement with the superintendent of Grand Teton National Park and the refuge manager of the Jackson Hole National Elk Refuge, which signified the importance of the migration corridor.[100] The local conservation community heralded this development as a major success. This policy response is now celebrated every spring at a major event in Jackson Hole, Wyoming, called the “Party for the Pronghorn.”[101] Regional citizens began referring to this change to the forest management plan as the Path of the Pronghorn.

The Path of the Pronghorn, in its current state, is widely supported by the citizens of the region.[102] However, when compared to the original vision, tradeoffs are clearly evident in the policy sciences criteria. In exchange for developing a politically viable solution, the technical viability of the original proposal was diminished. The Path of the Pronghorn only applies to the portion of the corridor on the Bridger-Teton National Forest.[103] This is particularly troubling since the majority of perceived threats to the migration—rural housing and natural gas development—do not occur within the Bridger-Teton National Forest.[104] Additionally, Supervisor Hamilton notes:

[A]ctivities currently authorized by the Forest Service within the corridor coexist with successful migration, so changes to current activities will not be required by this amendment.

. . . .

Some conservation organizations wanted specific restrictions added to the amendment such as a decision that no oil and gas leasing be authorized in the corridor. This amendment makes no decisions about the compatibility of specific future uses with the pronghorn migration, but requires that all future uses allow continued migration.[105]

Given that current activities within the forest boundary do not impact the migration, and no major future developments are currently planned, the development of the Path of the Pronghorn is mostly a symbolic endeavor signifying that the pronghorn migration is important to the region.[106] Considered in isolation from other strategies, the path is a positive, but incomplete, response to ensure the migration’s future.

B. Private Lands Conservation

Since 2006, there have been several attempts to address the private lands component of this migration in the land south of the Bridger-Teton National Forest. The most organized and effective endeavor is the Corridor Conservation Campaign (CCC) initiated by the Upper Green River Valley Land Trust in 2008.[107] This initiative is a concerted effort by nearly thirty partner organizations to protect migratory corridors in Sublette County.[108] The CCC includes only two of the thirty-five environmental nonprofit organizations with an office in Teton County. The CCC is a community based initiative to secure the future of the pronghorn migration by the people of Sublette County.

Fencing on private land is a major barrier to migrating pronghorn. Woven wire and dense barbwire fences traditionally used by the livestock industry are the most hazardous obstacles.[109] As a means to alleviate this type of barrier, the CCC developed a goal “to create 500 miles of wildlife-friendly fencing in Sublette County by 2012.”[110] This goal is ambitious, as the average cost of re-fencing projects is $12,000 to $16,000 per mile.[111] Since the CCC provides this service at no cost to landowners, these projects will cost the CCC $6 to $8 million.[112] After surveying all fencing within the pronghorn corridor, the CCC converted 80 miles of fence in 2009.[113] This included virtually all of the fencing on private lands between the National Forest boundary and Trappers Point Historical Monument.[114] This action should significantly alleviate barriers to pronghorn migration caused by fencing.

Just as the Path of the Pronghorn only addresses threats on the National Forest, the private lands component only addresses a portion of the migration’s total land area. In this sense, private lands conservation is also an incomplete solution. However, the CCC managed to address one of the most significant current threats to the migration. The ability of the CCC to convince private landowners to voluntarily modify nearly all fencing in the migratory corridor speaks to the political viability of this policy response. However, one significant piece is missing from the long-term technical viability. Sublette County is the fastest growing county in the state.[115] While current fencing threats were mitigated, further land development and newly erected non-wildlife-friendly fencing may still occur on private lands. Unlike the Path of the Pronghorn, there is no formal authoritative signal requiring protection of the pronghorn migration or compliance with this goal.

IV. Lessons for Migration Policy

The original proposal asserted by environmentalists—to create the world’s first national migration corridor[116]—is consistent with the growing trend of conservation efforts to focus on large-scale, comprehensive protection of migratory and dispersal corridors, such as the Yellowstone to Yukon Initiative and the Wildlands Project.[117] These types of proposals tend to focus on formal changes to bureaucratic structures, lawmaking, and scientific management; often times, they ignore contextual political and social factors necessary for long-term conservation success.[118] Focusing on why a comprehensive solution was unattainable is a distraction from understanding the successful aspects of this case. The key question is: what were the conditioning factors that allowed for the transition between the initial efforts to conserve this migration (2002–2007) and the successful implementation of the Path of the Pronghorn and CCC (2008–2010)? This Part discusses two key features: symbolic politics and multiple solutions.

A. Symbolic Politics

Of Greater Yellowstone’s megafauna, pronghorn antelope are among the least controversial. Large carnivores such as bears, cougars, and wolves depredate livestock and cause financial impacts to the ranching community.[119] Similarly, non-endemic large ungulates such as elk and bison carry brucellosis, a disease that is transmissible to cattle.[120] However, these carnivore and ungulate species are charismatic and prized in the eyes of environmentalists. As a result, most large carnivores and ungulates enjoy the status of being highly-charged and controversial political symbols.[121] In contrast, pronghorn antelope do not carry diseases transmissible to cattle nor are they a predator species.[122] In Wyoming, pronghorn are a strong positive symbol for wildlife across all political perspectives.

One might ask: if pronghorn are such an uncontroversial species, then why did this case escalate to divisive political conflict and gridlock during the initial attempts to conserve its migration? The answer lies in the conflation of two issues: natural gas development and pronghorn migration conservation. As previously discussed, the initial attempts to secure the future of the pronghorn migration occurred in the context of BLM’s planning processes for natural gas development.[123] Environmentalists pursued at least two independent goals during the planning processes: stopping natural gas development (or at least minimizing its impacts) and maintaining the pronghorn migration in perpetuity.[124] Environmentalists who were primarily concerned with the first goal developed the David and Goliath narrative of “pronghorn versus the natural gas industry” as a tool to halt natural gas development, not to secure the migration route in perpetuity.[125] This narrative blurred the lines between the two issues. As a result, when the intensity of conflict over natural gas escalated, so did conflict over the pronghorn migration.[126] By tying the fate of the pronghorn migration to BLM’s planning process for natural gas development in the Upper Green, the symbolic controversy over this migration escalated to the point of paralysis. The turning point occurred in 2007 when the BLM released their Draft Resource Management Plan and Pinedale Anticline Environmental Impact Statement.[127] Political conflict over natural gas development temporarily subsided as the arenas created for agency planning were terminated. With political intensity over natural gas development reduced, the Path of the Pronghorn and Corridor Conservation Campaign were implemented early the following year.[128]

A second lesson to learn is the value of a positive political symbol among all stakeholders. While the Path of the Pronghorn is an important step in protecting the corridor on the Bridger-Teton National Forest, the creation of a powerful authoritative symbol is of greater value.[129] Prior to the amendments to the Bridger-Teton National Forest forest management plan, land managers were able to shirk responsibility for the migration by deferring responsibility to another jurisdiction. For example, Grand Teton National Park was initially hesitant to address the pronghorn migration due to the perceived threat of natural gas development in the pronghorn winter range.[130] The formal designation by the Bridger-Teton National Forest and informal letter of agreement between the Bridger-Teton National Forest, Grand Teton National Forest, and the Jackson Hole Elk Refuge created a sense of shared responsibility and accountability for the migration’s future. These actions did not add significant substantive protection to the migration, but they created social connectivity among federal stakeholders that the conservation of the migration is important. This lesson is particularly important, since most long-distance mammal migrations transect multiple jurisdictions.

B. Parallel (Contextual) Solutions

From 2003 to 2007, political conflict centered on determining the most appropriate strategy to maintain the pronghorn migration in perpetuity: top-down legislation through the creation of a new protected area or bottom-up collaboration through informal agreements between land owners.[131] When the symbolic politics deflated in 2007, a surprising political result emerged. Rather than a single solution for the migration, the two political camps pursued parallel solutions that met their interests. The Path of the Pronghorn on the Bridger-Teton National Forest created a political win for individuals who view protection as the creation of a newly protected area. The private lands conservation strategy formed a similar political win for those individuals who defined the problem in terms of local rights and cultural values. Of course, overlap existed between organizations and individuals that worked on both initiatives. However, political gridlock over which initiative should take precedent virtually disappeared.

While the previous Part treats the two solutions as individual policy alternatives, it should be evident that Path of the Pronghorn and private lands conservation strongly complement each other. From a technical standpoint, the Path of the Pronghorn halts future development within the Bridger-Teton National Forest, and the Corridor Conservation Campaign removed the major ecological threat concerning private lands. Both solutions are politically viable and highly supported by all major political groups. In contrast to finding a silver bullet to conserve migratory corridors, this case suggests that when multiple authoritative actors control land along the migration corridor, successful protection can be achieved by a portfolio of contextual solutions within each landowner’s jurisdiction.

This lesson is particularly striking in reference to the Trapper’s Point Working Group. The working group attempted to involve and find a single solution that met the needs of all stakeholders along the migration route for the Trappers Point bottleneck. The working group’s outcome was not a viable solution and it increased conflict between working group members.[132] Rather than finding consensus on a comprehensive strategy, the Path of the Pronghorn and the Corridor Conservation Campaign demonstrate coalitions of willing participants addressing threats to the migration through solutions to which they were predisposed. Consensus among all stakeholders was not necessary.

While the parallel solutions are encouraging, it should be noted that natural gas development in the southern portion of the corridor and winter range has not been effectively addressed. In a multi-year ecological study, the Wildlife Conservation Society found “increasing pronghorn avoidance [of national gas development] in each subsequent winter” within the migratory corridor and winter range.[133] Natural gas development potentially presents a major challenge to the continued conservation of pronghorn migration. Currently, no significant proposals are on the table on how to effectively address this challenge. The Wildlife Conservation Society continues to study these potential impacts in the southern portions of the migratory corridor. Finding a solution will likely require a fix that allows both the migration and natural gas development to continue.[134]

V. Conclusion

The most technically elegant—and often inspiring—form of migratory conservation is to permanently protect corridors through comprehensive legislation. While this type of design is elegant, such efforts are unlikely to be both comprehensive and politically viable in complex political landscapes. Alternative approaches often suggest fully inclusive collaboration among diverse stakeholders to find mutually agreeable solutions.[135] While equally noble in principle, finding consensus among divergent political perspectives is no easy task. Conservationists in Greater Yellowstone herald the conservation of the pronghorn migration as a major success story, yet neither of these strategies proved successful in this case.

Migration conservation, at the most basic level, is about securing the free movement of wildlife. The ultimate test for any policy is action.[136] In other words, how well the policy alternative works in practice to solve the perceived problem. There is no universal method for conserving migratory species. The fact that comprehensive legislation and consensus-based collaboration did not work in this case does not invalidate these strategies in other contexts. Rather, the successful protection of this migration demonstrates that another set of tools are available for conservationists interested in the protection of animal migrations.

While actors in this migration’s policy process all shared a common goal of seeing this migration occur in perpetuity, significant institutional pressures prevented the realization of this goal. On the surface, differences in philosophical orientations prevented reaching an acceptable solution. However, at least two contextual factors were critically important in allowing participants to create successful outcomes. Deflating symbolic politics of natural gas development and the creation of a universal symbol for the migration allowed stakeholders to focus on conserving the migration versus allowing the issue to be subsumed by the more controversial subject of natural gas development. Conservationists should be cautious of conflating migratory conservation with other highly controversial conservation issues. Additionally, institutional pressures reduced the scope of choice to singular policy responses (e.g., permanent top-down protection versus ad hoc bottom-up local responses). In this case, successful conservation was achieved by expanding the scope of choice to include multiple policy alternatives. Rather than focus on selecting the optimal policy response, migration conservationists would benefit by hedging through multiple policy options.

 



* Research Affiliate, Center for Science and Technology Policy Research, University of Colorado at Boulder and Research Associate at the Northern Rockies Conservation Cooperative.

[1] See generally David S. Wilcove, No Way Home: The Decline of the World’s Great Animal Migrations (2008) (discussing the threats to migration in the air, on land, and in the water); Grant Harris et al., Global Decline in Aggregated Migrations of Large Terrestrial Mammals, 7 Endangered Species Res. 55 (2009) (studying declining migrations by evaluating conservation status of aggregations of 24 large mammals that migrate); David S. Wilcove & Martin Wikelski, Going, Going, Gone: Is Animal Migration Disappearing?, 6 PLoS Biology 1361 (2008) (explaining the scientific, social, and political challenges of conserving declining migration).

[2] Joel Berger, The Last Mile: How to Sustain Long-Distance Migration in Mammals, 18 Conservation Biology 320, 322 tbl.1 (2004).

[3] See id. at 320, 323 fig.2, 324.

[4] Numerous conservation nonprofit organizations in Greater Yellowstone have programs to conserve migratory corridors. A partial, but far from complete, list includes: Greater Yellowstone Coalition’s “Saving Ancient Migration Corridors,” Jackson Hole Conservation Alliance’s “Patagonia’s Freedom to Roam,” Western Governors’ Association’s “Wildlife Corridors Initiative,” Wyoming Land Trust’s “Corridor Conservation Campaign,” and Wyoming Outdoor Council’s “Migration Corridors.” See Greater Yellowstone Coal., Pronghorn: Saving Ancient Migration Corridors, http://greateryellowstone.org/issues/wildlife/Feature.php?id=290 (last visited Apr. 10, 2011); News Release, Jackson Hole Conservation Alliance, Conservation Alliance Obtains Grant to Advance Science-Based Planning to Protect Wildlife (Dec. 24, 2008), available at http://www.jhalliance.org/Library/PressReleases/PatagoniaGrantPR.12-08.pdf; W. Governors’ Ass’n, Initiative on Wildlife Corridors and Crucial Habitat, http://www.westgov.org/
index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=123&Itemid=68 (last visited Apr. 10, 2011); Wyo. Land Trust, Services: Corridor Conservation Campaign, http://wyominglandtrust.org/
services-CCC.shtml (last visited Apr. 10, 2011); Wyo. Outdoor Council, Migration Corridors, http://wyomingoutdoorcouncil.org/html/what_we_do/wildlife/migration_corridors.shtml (last visited Apr. 10, 2011).

[5] See, e.g., Greater Yellowstone Coal., supra note 4; Jackson Hole Conservation Alliance, supra note 4; Wyo. Land Trust, supra note 4; see also Aaron Hohl et al., Approaches to Large Scale Conservation: A Survey, in Yale Sch. of Forestry & Envtl. Studies, Large Scale Conservation: Integrating Science, Management, and Policy in the Common Interest 33, 49–50 (Susan G. Clark et al. eds., 2010) (defining transboundary management).

[6] Berger, supra note 2, at 323 fig.2.

[7] Joel Berger, Is It Acceptable to Let a Species Go Extinct in a National Park?, 17 Conservation Biology 1451, 1452 (2003).

[8] Joel Berger, Steve L. Cain & Kim Murray Berger, Connecting the Dots: An Invariant Migration Corridor Links the Holocene to the Present, 2 Biology Letters 528, 528 (2006); see Mark E. Miller & Paul H. Saunders, The Trappers Point Site (48SU1006): Early Archaic Adaptations and Pronghorn Procurement in the Upper Green River Basin, Wyoming, 45 Plains Anthropologist 39, 45 (2000).

[9] See David N. Cherney & Susan G. Clark, The American West’s Longest Large Mammal Migration: Clarifying and Securing the Common Interest, 42 Policy Scis. 95, 96, 98 (2009).

[10] See generally id. at 98–100 (explaining the attitudes of different interest groups).

[11] See id. at 101.

[12] The two initiatives are the Path of the Pronghorn and Corridor Conservation Campaign. See discussion infra Parts III.A–B.

[13] See Hugh Dingle, Migration: The Biology of Life on the Move 38–39 (1996).

[14] See id. at 38.

[15] Wyo. Game & Fish Dep’t, Annual Report 2010, at A-1 (2010).

[16] Berger, supra note 7, at 1452; Berger, Cain & Berger, supra note 8, at 530.

[17] Berger, supra note 2, at 322–23.

[18] See James Straley, Western and Northwestern Wyo., 30 Wyo. Wildlife 19, 19 (1966) (“The last decade has seen a major change in . . . migration patterns in the northwestern part of Wyoming.”); See also Cherney & Clark, supra note 9, at 97 (“In the 1950s, [the Wyoming Game and Fish Department] observed the migration’s reestablishment on its own.”).

[19] Cherney & Clark, supra note 9, at 101.

[20] Id. (quoting Interview with Anonymous Environmentalist (2004)).

[21] P.J. White et al., Partial Migration and Philopatry of Yellowstone Pronghorn, 135 Biological Conservation 502, 503 (2007).

[22] Id. at 504.

[23] Hall Sawyer & Fred Lindzey, Wyo. Coop. Fish & Wildlife Research Unit, Jackson Hole Pronghorn Study 7 (Sept. 2000) (unpublished manuscript), available at http://www.west-inc.com/reports/jackson_prongstudy.pdf.

[24] Id. at 3; Berger, Cain & Berger, supra note 8, at 530. Both the migration corridor and migration are invariant. Id. This is the only known migratory corridor where pronghorn are physically able to migrate to Grand Teton National Park. Id.

[25] Patrick M. Lubinski, Estimating Age and Season of Death of Pronghorn Antelope (Antilocapra americana Ord) by Means of Tooth Eruption and Wear, 11 Int’l J. Osteoarchaeology 218, 220 (2001).

[26] Sawyer & Lindzey, supra note 23, at 20–22. Berger refers to this area as the second bottleneck. Berger, supra note 2, at 324.

[27] Berger, Cain & Berger, supra note 8, at 530.

[28] Sawyer & Lindzey, supra note 23, at 20, 21–22 figs.6 & 7.

[29] Joel Berger & Jon P. Beckmann, Sexual Predators, Energy Development, and Conservation in Greater Yellowstone, 24 Conservation Biology 891, 893 (2010).

[30] See Wilcove & Wikelski, supra note 1, at 1361. Wilcove and Wikelski identify four general threats to migrations: habitat destruction, obstacles, overexploitation, and climate change. Id. There is no compelling scientific evidence that overexploitation (hunting) and climate change are major threats to the current migration.

[31] Sawer & Lindzey, supra note 23, at 20.

[32] John A. Byers, Built for Speed: A Year in the Life of Pronghorn 6 (2003); M. Douglas Scott, Buck-and-Pole Fence Crossings by 4 Ungulate Species, 20 Wildlife Soc’y Bull. 204, 204 (1992).

[33] Dirk Johnson, When Antelope Don’t Roam Free, N.Y. Times, November 18, 1988, at A16.

[34] Jon P. Beckmann & Renee G. Seidler, Wildlife & Energy Development: Pronghorn of the Upper Green River Basin – Year 4 Summary 61–62 (2009); Jon P. Beckmann et al., Wildlife & Energy Development: Pronghorn of the Upper Green River Basin – Year 3 Summary 57–59 (2008).

[35] Teton County is the most liberal county in Wyoming as determined by voting in the 2008 presidential election. Teton County was one of only two Wyoming counties won by Democratic candidate Barack Obama. He won Teton County by the highest margin (61% Obama; 37% McCain). Teton County Precinct-by-Precinct Official Summary, Wyoming General Election – November 4, 2008, available at  http://soswy.state.wy.us/Elections/Docs/2008/08Results/General/TE-Pbp.pdf (last visited Apr. 10, 2011). This is in stark contrast to Sublette County (77% McCain; 22% Obama) and Sweetwater County (63% McCain; 35% Obama). Id.

[36] As measured by per capita income ($132,726 in 2007). Bureau of Econ. Analysis, Local Area Personal Income 68 tbl.3, available at http://www.bea.gov/scb/pdf/2009/
05%20May/0509_lapitables.pdf.

[37] David T. Taylor & Thomas Foulke, Dep’t of Agric. & Applied Econ., Univ. of Wyo., Teton County, Wyoming: A Socio-Economic Profile 18 (2008).

[38] Id. at 28.

[39] Bureau of Econ. Analysis, supra note 36, at 68 (Sublette: $61,411; Sweetwater: $46,195).

[40] See Presidential Election Winner by County, supra note 35.

[41] See Cherney & Clark, supra note 9, at 100, 102.

[42] Steve Wenger, Am. Farmland Trust, Strategic Ranchland in the Rocky Mountain West: Mapping the Threats to Prime Ranchland in Seven Western States 3 (2009), available at http://mmiplanning.com/bhc09/background/Docs/ag%20reports/Strategic%20Ranchland%20in
%20the%20Rocky%20Mountain%20West.pdf.

[43] U.S. Senate Env’t & Pub. Works Comm., Political Activity of Environmental Groups and Their Supporting Foundations Update 2008, at 23 (2008).

[44] These values were obtained by counting (by county) the number of environmental nonprofit organizations documented at The Greater Yellowstone Conservation Directory, http://gycd.org/ (last visited Apr. 10, 2011).

[45] Id.

[46] Cherney & Clark, supra note 9, at 106.

[47] Id. at 98.

[48] Id. at 98–101.

[49] Id. at 98.

[50] Berger, supra note 7, at 1452–53; see Robert Ament, Ctr. for Large Landscape Conservation, Recent Progress on Wildlife Corridor and Ecological Connectivity Policy in the United States 2007–2010, at 4, 6, 7 (2011).

[51] See Cherney & Clark, supra note 9, at 99; see, e.g., Town of Jackson, Comprehensive Plan: Natural and Scenic Resources 4 (Oct. 2002) (recognizing federal protection of 97% of Teton County, Wyoming).

[52] See Cherney & Clark, supra note 9, at 99–100.

[53] See id. at 96, 99.

[54] See id. at 100.

[55] Id. at 100–01.

[56] Id.

[57] Id. at 103–04.

[58] See id. at 105.

[59] Id. at 104.

[60] Id.

[61] Id. at 105–06.

[62] Id. at 105.

[63] Id. at 103–04.

[64] Id. at 106.

[65] Roger A. Pielke, Jr., The Honest Broker: Making Sense of Science in Policy and Politics 22 (2008).

[66] Id. at 26.

[67] Harold Lasswell, Myres McDougal, and collaborators developed this comprehensive style of policy analysis as a means to move away from disciplinary fragmentation by developing a framework that is contextual, problem-oriented, and multi-method. In the public policy and political context, this framework is referred to as “policy sciences.” Harold D. Lasswell, Preface to A Pre-View of Policy Sciences xiii (1971); Harold D. Lasswell & Myres S. McDougal, 1 Jurisprudence for a Free Society: Studies in Law, Science and Policy 3 (1992).

[68] Tim W. Clark, The Policy Process: A Practical Guide for Natural Resource Professionals 4 (2002); Tim W. Clark, Interdisciplinary Problem Solving in Species and Ecosystem Conservation, in Species and Ecosystem Conservation: An Interdisciplinary Approach 35, 36 (Tim W. Clark et al. eds., 2001); Timothy W. Clark, Mark Wishnie & George Gorman, An Interdisciplinary Approach to Natural Resources Conservation, 16 J. Sustainable Forestry 161, 161 (2003).

[69] Clark, Wishnie & Gorman, supra note 68, at 165.

[70] Id. at 165–66.

[71] Clark, supra note 68, at 4.

[72] Clark, Wishnie & Gorman, supra note 68, at 177.

[73] Clark, supra note 68, at 4.

[74] Clark, Wishnie & Gorman, supra note 68, at 178.

[75] Cherney & Clark, supra note 9, at 102; 67 Fed. Reg. 8700 (Feb. 25, 2002).

[76] See generally Cherney & Clark, supra note 9, 102.

[77] U.S. Bureau of Land Mgmt., U.S. Dep’t of the Interior, Record of Decision and Resource Management Plan for the Pinedale Resource Area 5 (1988), available at http://www.blm.gov/rmpweb/Pinedale/rmp.pdf.

[78] Nextraction Energy Corp., The Next Round of Extraction on Known Plays, http://www.nextraction.com/projects/pinedale/ (last visited Apr. 10, 2011).

[79] Shell Oil, Wyoming – Pinedale Anticline Project Area (PAPA) – United States, http://www.shell.us/home/content/usa/aboutshell/projects_locations/wyoming/ (last visited Apr. 10, 2011).

[80] See Energy Info. Admin., U.S. Natural Gas Wellhead Prices (Dollars per Thousand Cubic Feet), available at http://www.eia.doe.gov/dnav/ng/hist_xls/N9190US3a.xls (calculating the value of natural gas by multiplying the total recoverable cubic feet estimated by Shell Oil with the Energy Information Administration’s average wellhead price for 2009). However, the price of natural gas is highly variable. Using average prices from 2008, the wellhead value of the Anticline’s recoverable reserve is $159 to $199 billion. Id.

[81] Cherney & Clark, supra note 9, at 102; see also Ted Williams, For a Week’s Worth of Gas, Mother Jones, Sept.–Oct. 2004, at 66, 70; Meredith Taylor, Greater Yellowstone’s Long-Distance Wildlife Migration Among the World’s Longest . . . and Last, Wyo. Outdoor Council Frontline Rep., Summer 2003, at 11.

[82] E.g., Rebecca Huntington, Migration Route Key to Teton Antelope, Jackson Hole News & Guide, Mar. 19, 2003, at 16A.

[83] E.g., Rob Shaul, Editorial, Greens Using Wildlife Corridors to Raise Money, Pinedale Roundup, Oct. 9, 2003, at 4A; Noah Brenner, Johnston Votes Against Latest Subdivision, Pinedale Roundup, May 20, 2004, at 1A; Rhonda Swain, Antelope Corridor Main Topic at Pinedale Council Meeting, Sublette Examiner, May 13, 2004, at 7A; Cherney & Clark, supra note 9, at 102.

[84] Rebecca Huntington, Environmentalists: Olsen Excluded Us, Jackson Hole News & Guide, Jan. 14, 2004, at 11A; Jeff Gearino, New Group Works to Protect Migration Corridor, Casper Star Tribune, Nov. 12, 2003, available at http://trib.com/news/state-and-regional/article_25c73e53-96ca-5bf0-bee5-a80bc9d0d2d2.html.

[85] Berger, supra note 2, at 324.

[86] Hall Sawyer, Fred Lindzey & Doug McWhirter, Mule Deer and Pronghorn Migration in Western Wyoming, 33 Wildlife Soc’y Bull. 1266, 1271 (2005).

[87] Id. at 1271–72.

[88] Cherney & Clark, supra note 9, at 103.

[89] Wyo. Game & Fish Dep’t, Trappers Point Bottleneck Conservation: Daniel Schoolhouse (Oct. 1, 2003) (unpublished meeting notes) (on file with author).

[90] Cherney & Clark, supra note 9, at 103.

[91] Id.

[92] See Letter from Monte Olsen, Representative, Wyo. House of Representatives, to Pricilla “Prill” Mecham, Field Manager, U.S. Bureau of Land Mgmt. 3 (Dec. 14, 2003) (on file with author).

[93] Cherney & Clark, supra note 9, at 102.

[94] The reader must keep in mind the term Path of the Pronghorn is used in two ways by participants involved in the migration’s conservation. Path of the Pronghorn is used, and was originally conceived, as an expression referring to the migration in its entirety. Previously, no symbol existed beyond calling it “the migration from Grand Teton National Park to the Upper Green.” However, the Path of the Pronghorn is also used by people in the region to describe the federal lands component of the corridor now protected by the Forest Service. The following Part uses the latter definition as a matter of expediency to differentiate federal protection from private lands conservation.

[95] See Berger, supra note 7, at 1452–53; Associated Press, Antelope Migration Route Endangered by People, Billings Gazette, Aug. 9, 2005.

[96] See Berger, supra note 7, at 1452–53.

[97] Dennis Feeney et al., Big Game Migration Corridors in Wyoming, Wyo. Open Spaces, April 2004, at 2, available at http://gf.state.wy.us/downloads/pdf/habitat/BigGameMigration
CorridorsinWY.pdf.

[98] See Daniel Glick, End of the Road?, Smithsonian Features, Jan. 2007, at 53, 56–58, available at http://www.smithsonianmag.com/science-nature/pronghorn.html?c=y&page=3.

[99] Carole “Kniffy” Hamilton, Bridger-Teton Nat’l Forest, U.S. Forest Serv., Dep’t of Agric., Decision Notice & Finding of No Significant Impact: Pronghorn Migration Corridor Forest Plan Amendment 1 (2008), available at http://www.fs.usda.gov/Internet/
FSE_DOCUMENTS/fsbdev3_063055.pdf.

[100] Cory Hatch, Preserving the Pronghorn Corridor, Jackson Hole News & Guide, Feb. 6, 2008, available at http://www.jhnewsandguide.com/print.php?art_id=2711&pid=news.

[101] Press Release, Jackson Hole Conservation Alliance, Mandatory Air Headlines Third Annual Party for the Pronghorn 1 (May 22, 2008), available at http://www.jhalliance.org/
Library/PressReleases/PartyforPronghorn08PR.pdf.

[102] Hamilton, supra note 99, at 2 (explaining that the Forest Service received 19,400 letters in support of their action, with virtually no opposition).

[103] Id.

[104] See Abby Mellinger et al., Improving Big Game Migration Corridors in Southwest Wyoming, Wyo. Open Spaces, June 2010, at 1, available at http://www.uwyo.edu/
openspaces/docs/Ruckelshaus%20Institute%20Open%20Spaces.pdf (describing the detrimental effect of expanding rural residential development and energy production on pronghorn herds in some Wyoming counties); Jordan Vana, Green River Valley Land Trust, Remarks at the 24th Biennial Pronghorn Workshop: Partnering for Pronghorns 17 (May 18–21, 2010), available at http://gf.state.wy.us/downloads/pdf/RegionalNews/BL-PHWorkProg
Final_052510.pdf (explaining that developments outside the national forest “like subdivision, fencing, roads, and commercial centers cause eight of the thirteen major threats to wildlife identified by the Wyoming Game and Fish Department”).

[105] Hamilton, supra note 99, at 2–3.

[106] Hatch, supra note 100.

[107] See Wyo. Land Trust, Wyoming Land Trust Corridor Conservation Campaign, http://wyominglandtrust.org/services-CCC.shtml (last visited Apr. 10, 2011); Vana, supra note 104, at 17.

[108] Mellinger et al., supra note 104, at 1, 5.

[109] Justin L. Harrington & Michael R. Conover, Characteristics of Ungulate Behavior and Mortality Associated with Wire Fences, 34 Wildlife Soc’y Bull. 1295, 1301, 1304 (2006).

[110] Mellinger et al., supra note 104, at 4.

[111] Wyo. Land Trust, supra note 107.

[112] Mellinger et al., supra note 104, at 6 (noting that the funding from CCC partners allows for the service to be provided at no cost to landowners).

[113] Wyo. Land Trust, supra note 107.

[114] See Wyo. Land Trust, Phase 1 Progress Map, available at http://wyominglandtrust.org/
documents/wltPhase1.Progress.pdf (providing a comparative map detailing completed re-fencing projects from traditional fences to wildlife friendly within the migration corridor).

[115] Scott Lieske & David T. Taylor, Population Change in Wyoming: 2000–2005, Wyo. Open Spaces, Aug. 2007, at 1, available at http://www.uwyo.edu/openspaces/docs/WyoPop
Change2000_2005.pdf.

[116] See Berger, supra note 7, at 1452–53 (explaining a pronghorn migration corridor concept that would span the migratory range of the species).

[117] See Susan G. Clark, Catherine Picar & Aaron Hohl, Large Scale Conservation in the Common Interest: An Overview, in Large Scale Conservation: Integrating Science, Management, and Policy in the Common Interest, supra note 5, at 3, 4 (highlighting the Yellowstone to Yukon Initiative as an example of large scale project implementation); Aaron Hohl et al., supra note 5, at 33, 46 (offering the Wildlands Project as an example of eco-regional planning); see generally Susan G. Clark, Aaron Hohl & Catherine Picard, Pursuing Large Scale Conservation in the Common Interest: A Perspective, in Large Scale Conservation: Integrating Science, Management, and Policy in the Common Interest, supra note 5, at 17, 18–19 (noting that large scale conservation efforts require consideration of larger spatial, temporal, and social contexts so as to plan eco-regionally).

[118] See Hohl et al., supra note 5, at 42.

[119] See Murray B. Rutherford & Tim W. Clark, Coexisting with Large Carnivores: Lessons from Greater Yellowstone, in Coexisting with Large Carnivores: Lessons from Greater Yellowstone 254, 256, 259–260 (Tim W. Clark, Murray B. Rutherford & Denise Casey eds., 2005).

[120] Greater Yellowstone Interagency Brucellosis Comm., Wildlife and Brucellosis in the Greater Yellowstone Area: An Educational Guide for Hunters 1, available at http://gf.state.wy.us/downloads/pdf/RegionalNews/ES-Bruc.pdf.

[121] Rutherford & Clark, supra note 119, at 260 (noting that predation by these large carnivores is a source of politicization); see Dylan Taylor & Tim W. Clark, Management Context: People, Animals, and Institutions, in Coexisting with Large Carnivores: Lessons from Greater Yellowstone, supra note 119, at 28, 34 (noting that environmentalists view large carnivores favorably, and often in very different ways than do local interests); Kurt Repanshek, Montana Governor Asked to “Provide Leadership” in Yellowstone Bison Controversy, Nat’l Parks Traveler, May 15, 2008, available at http://www.nationalparkstraveler.com/
2008/05/montana-governor-asked-provide-leadership-yellowstone-bison-controversy (noting the management controversies surrounding bison and environmentalist fervor in supporting bison).

[122] Klaus Nielsen & J. Robert Duncan, Animal Brucellosis 325 (1990) (noting that pronghorn do not carry brucellosis).

[123] See supra text accompanying notes 75–82.

[124] Cherney & Clark, supra note 9, at 101–02.

[125] Id. at 102. Rob Shaul summarizes the attitude of many people in Sublette County when he says, “[T]he green groups didn’t discover Sublette’s wildlife corridors until this spring[, 2003] . . . . The environmental groups have always fought oil and gas development here. . . . They knew they needed a better argument to fight . . . and found the wildlife corridor issue.” Shaul, supra note 83, at 4A.

[126] E.g., Jackson Hole Conservation Alliance, Is It Acceptable to Let a Species Go Extinct in a National Park? Energy Development in Wyoming’s Upper Green River Valley and How It Relates to Jackson Hole 2 (2004); Janice L. Thomson et al., The Wilderness Soc’y, Wildlife at a Crossroads: Energy Development in Western Wyoming 20 (2005); Linda Baker & Lauren McKeever, Letter to the Editor, How to Do It Right, Pinedale Roundup, May 13, 2004, at 5A; Brian Maffly, Putting the Squeeze on Pronghorn, Nat’l Wildlife, April/May 2004, at 56, 58; Brian Maffly, Where the Antelope (and the Oil Companies) Play, High Country News, Aug. 18, 2003, at 6, 6; Cat Urbigkit, Upper Green Used in Political Ploy, Sublette Examiner, Aug. 5, 2004, available at http://sublette.com/examiner/v4n19/v4n19s2.htm; Todd Wilkinson, Drilling Where Antelope Play, Christian Sci. Monitor, Apr. 13, 2005, at 1, 4; Williams, supra note 81, at 70.

[127] See Notice of Availability of a Revised Draft Supplemental Environmental Impact Statement for the Pinedale Anticline Oil and Gas Exploration Development Project, Sublette County, WY, 72 Fed. Reg. 73,877, 73,877–78 (Dec. 28, 2007); U.S. Bureau of Land Mgmt., Draft Supplemental Environmental Impact Statement: Pinedale Anticline Oil and Gas Exploration Development Project: Sublette County, Wyoming at i, iii (2006).

[128] Mellinger et al., supra note 104, at 4.

[129] Hatch, supra note 100. This finding is not in contradiction with Professor Jamison Colburn’s concern about creating an overarching legislated vision of the Kittatinny. See Jamison Colburn, 41 Envtl. L. 619, 625–27 (2011). Rather, the pronghorn case suggests that there is high value in creating a symbolic victory (an authoritative signal) that people can rally around and that legislation is not enough to secure the conservation of animal migrations.

[130] E.g., Whitney Royster, Grand Teton Bites Lip on Antelope Migration, Jackson Hole News & Guide, Oct. 16, 2003, at 7A; Cherney & Clark, supra note 9, at 104.

[131] See Cherney & Clark, supra note 9, at 101–03 (discussing “migration politics” and the conflicts among environmental advocates, natural gas developers, and agencies during the development of a migration strategy); id. at 107–08 (discussing top-down and bottom-up management strategies).

[132] See Letter from Tom Darin, Jackson Hole Conservation Alliance; Lloyd Dorsey, Greater Yellowstone Coalition; Meredith Taylor, Wyoming Outdoor Council; & Linda Baker, Upper Green River Valley Coalition, to Prill Mecham, Field Manager, Bureau of Land Mgmt. 1, 2 (Dec. 22, 2003) (on file with author).

[133] Beckmann & Seidler, supra note 34, at 55.

[134] Roger Pielke, Jr. argues that an iron “law of climate policy” exists in the climate change politics: “when policies focused on economic growth confront policies focused on emission reduction, it is economic growth that will win out every time.” Roger Pielke, Jr., The Climate Fix: What Scientists and Politicians Won’t Tell You About Global Warming 46 (2010).

[135] This is not an argument against collaboration. As Professor Steven Yaffee notes, most places find it “necessary to promote cooperation and collaboration.” Steven L. Yaffee, 41 Envtl. L. 655, 661 (2011). Indeed, collaboration proved invaluable in conserving this pronghorn migration. However, the most effective collaborations in this case resulted from alliances among individuals who were in favor of the same solution rather than find a collaborative agreement on the best solution for all stakeholders. This was particularly effective in this case, as the parallel solutions were mutually reinforcing.

[136] See Ronald Brunner, A Paradigm for Practice, 39 Pol’y Scis. 135, 147 (2006).

Conservation of Migratory Species in a Changing Climate: Strategic Behavior and Policy Design

Conservation of Migratory Species in a Changing Climate: Strategic Behavior and Policy Design

By

Kathleen A. Miller*

The protection of migratory animals requires cooperation among multiple decision-making entities. These may include individual resource users or property owners, different government agencies within a single national or state jurisdiction, or the governments of different sovereign nations. The fate of the migratory animals, the values accruing to the various human actors, and the costs they bear, will depend on a suite of actions taken by several independent entities at different points in space and time. No single decision maker has full control over the set of human actions that will determine the overall status of the migratory species—or even the outcomes valued by that single decision maker. Recognizing this interdependence, human decision makers will tend to behave strategically. In other words, their decisions regarding the best way to achieve their individually-valued objectives will depend on the expected actions and reactions of the other relevant actors. This interplay can take a variety of forms—ranging from individual decisions on compliance, or not, with hunting regulations as a function of the likelihood of getting caught and the severity of the resulting punishment, to the strategic positions of individual nations in negotiating treaties on habitat conservation or fishery management. The policy problem thus entails designing an appropriate set of incentives for each of the decision-making entities
to channel their actions towards mutually satisfactory and environmentally-responsible outcomes. A changing climate can complicate this task by altering the migratory behavior or reproductive success of the animals that a policy or agreement is attempting to manage. This Article will survey a range of policy situations in which the efficacy of a policy, treaty or other agreement could be undermined by strategic behavior—in particular strategic reactions to the effects of changing environmental conditions.

 

I. Introduction

In an increasingly human-dominated world, it may become ever more challenging to maintain the viability of migratory species and even more difficult to restore their populations to sufficient levels to support robust migrations “as phenomena of abundance.”[1] As the Earth’s human population continues to grow,[2] and as individuals strive to improve their living standards, there are likely to be new pressures to intensify agricultural exploitation or other human uses of the land and water on which migratory species rely. Such pressures could impair the ability of these systems to support animal migrations.[3] Climate change will create additional challenges, as warming temperatures and changing hydrologic regimes alter habitat characteristics, while potentially decoupling phenological relationships that play key roles in the dynamics of migratory populations.[4] Those same climatic changes will also affect the intensity of human demands on land and water resources by altering the potential productivity of agricultural lands and increasing demands for irrigation water to augment yields.[5]

Following Professor Wilcove’s explanation of the major anthropogenic threats to migrations,[6] Professors Fischman and Hyman describe four broad categories of threats to animal migrations.[7] These are habitat destruction, overexploitation, human-created obstacles to migration, and climate change.[8] Each of these threats exists because humans have found it advantageous to engage in activities that cause the harm, whether harm was intended or not.[9] Habitat destruction, human-caused obstacles to migration, and anthropogenic climate change all result from a long sequence of private and public decisions taken in response to economic opportunities. Examples include the efforts of public entities to provide transportation improvements,[10] and water and energy services to support economic development.[11] Overexploitation, on the other hand, is more typically the direct outcome of a competitive race to exploit common property resources in the absence of effective institutional arrangements to constrain that race. Addressing these threats will require finding both the will and the way to alter the choices that imperil the vitality of animal migrations. Two types of human choices are relevant: 1) those that are directly focused on migratory animal conservation, including the development of conservation reserves, hunting laws, and land use regulations specifically tailored to protect animals and their migratory corridors; and 2) decisions made for other purposes that entail incidental or unintentional impacts on animals and their habitats. The focus, here, is primarily on the first category of decisions, but the outcome of any given conservation policy clearly depends on a whole suite of choices in both categories, made at different points in time by different parties. This Article focuses not on the behavior and ecology of migratory animals, but rather on the behavior and interactions of humans whose individual and collective actions could either assist or impair the survival and abundance of migratory animals in a changing climate.

A central feature of the challenge of maintaining animal migrations is that effective conservation typically requires coordinated actions on the part of a variety of public and private entities.[12] These may include individual resource users or property owners, different government agencies within a single national or state jurisdiction, or the governments of different sovereign nations. No single entity has full control over the set of human actions that determine the fate of migrating animals and long-term protection of their migratory corridors. This creates an inherent interdependence among their conservation decisions—in other words, the success of actions taken by one entity depend very much on what other entities decide to do.[13]

While altruism and dedication to environmental stewardship may motivate a certain level of willingness to engage in collective efforts of preserve animal migrations, each decision-making entity also is likely to care about the particular balance of benefits and costs it expects to incur as a result of the cooperative conservation project. The theory of games—or strategic optimization—can provide useful insights regarding the effects of such interdependence on individual decisions as well as on the conditions needed to induce successful coordination of conservation actions.

Game theoretic concepts thus provide the backdrop for the following discussion of the human side of animal migration conservation. The questions to be faced include not only how to secure agreement on a desirable set of coordinated conservation actions, but also how to ensure that parties will actually carry out their obligations. A further challenge is how to ensure the continued workability of a coordinated conservation program in the face of changing conditions, including climate-driven environmental changes that might dramatically alter the effectiveness of a planned management strategy. Also relevant are socioeconomic changes that could alter the perceived net benefits of complying with an existing agreement.

II. Concepts and Insights from the Theory of Games

The theory of games describes the strategizing behavior of two or more decisionmakers when their options are characterized by mutual interdependence.[14] The decision makers are called “players” and they are assumed to be self interested—in other words, each is attempting to achieve the best outcome from that player’s individual perspective.[15] Game theory has been argued to be

the most important and useful tool in the analyst’s kit whenever she confronts situations in which what counts as one agent’s best action (for her) depends on expectations about what one or more other agents will do, and what counts as their best actions (for them) similarly depend on expectations about her.[16]

In particular, mathematical models of game-playing behavior provide useful insights on how the structure of incentives inherent in a particular situation may affect the likelihood of achieving mutually satisfactory solutions to social problems.[17] By explicitly articulating the incentives facing each agent and analyzing the likely outcome of the sequence of actions and reactions available to them within the particular game setting, it becomes easier to identify how outcomes depend on the rules of play and the payoffs that a player expects to achieve from different courses of action. When the parties to a negotiation understand that dependence, they then may be able to conceive of ways to alter the structure of games in which they find themselves to achieve a superior outcome.[18]

Indeed, in the context of international environmental agreements, Professor Barrett argues that “if they are to succeed, treaties must strategically manipulate the incentives states have to exploit the environment.”[19] Specifically, Barrett notes that state sovereignty means that there is no external authority that can force a nation to enter into a treaty or abide by its terms, and as a result, international agreements must be “self-enforcing.”[20] In practical terms, that means that it typically will be necessary to craft the terms of an agreement to make compliance the preferred strategy for each participant.[21] He thus describes “statecraft” as the art and science of changing the rules of the game to “improve on unilateralism and make every party better off.”[22]

The problem of assuring compliance with a mutually beneficial program of action is not unique to international environmental agreements. In the often-cited single-period “prisoner’s dilemma” game the participants know that they will be better off if they cooperate with one another, but the rules of the game and the structure of the expected payoffs lead them inexorably to the outcome that nobody desires, with each choosing not to cooperate and thus each achieving a much lower payoff than could have been achieved if all participants had cooperated.[23] The inevitability of this outcome arises because the game is only played once. There is thus no opportunity for the players to develop mechanisms to reward one another for cooperation or to punish failures to cooperate. Even if the players in a one-shot prisoner’s dilemma can communicate—and agree beforehand on what they will do—when the moment comes they are likely to break their word because none will trust the others to carry through, and each fears being played for a chump.[24] The only way to avoid that universally-undesired outcome is to introduce an enforcement mechanism that changes the structure of payoffs to make cooperation the best strategy for each player—in essence changing the prisoner’s dilemma game into something else.[25]

Fortunately, most of the policy coordination problems relevant to protecting animal migrations are not very much like a single-period prisoner’s dilemma game. In particular, they do not involve one-shot interactions with strangers who one never expects to encounter again. Rather, the decision makers whose choices will determine the sustainability of robust animal migrations may be involved in long-term ongoing relationships with one another, perhaps encompassing a variety of interactions revolving around different functions and issues.

Another difference between the policy setting for animal migration conservation and the prisoner’s dilemma is that even unilateral conservation actions may, in some circumstances, yield considerable benefits to the parties undertaking those actions. Such unilateral conservation actions also could confer benefits to one’s neighbors—a beneficial externality. In the absence of a coordination mechanism, such externalities wouldn’t matter to a purely self-interested decision maker, and thus the level of conservation action that would be undertaken unilaterally is likely to be smaller than the level that would be jointly optimal. There would be gains to be achieved by entering into a bargain to reach the jointly optimal level of action, and game theory has a lot to say about what it takes to make such an agreement work.

The theory of games provides some useful insights relevant for animal migration conservation policymaking. The most basic insight is that if cooperation is to succeed, it must yield some aggregate net benefit—a larger pie to be shared. Another necessary condition is that a cooperative agreement must leave each player at least as well off as that player would have been in the original situation. This requirement is called the “individual rationality” constraint.[26]

There may be many possible combinations of actions (feasible solutions) that would satisfy both of those conditions, but it is important to understand that in some cases, a game may have no feasible solutions. For example, that would be the case if the potential gains from cooperation are smaller than the transaction costs that would have to be incurred to negotiate, monitor and enforce the agreement. For games that have a feasible set of mutually beneficial outcomes, some solutions will yield a larger total social gain than others. In addition, the division of the gains among the players may vary from being equally shared to being skewed heavily in favor of one or another player. A game solution is said to be an “equilibrium” if no player would prefer to deviate from that outcome, given the choices made by the other players.[27] In some games, there may be several possible equilibrium solutions. Which solution is selected will depend on such factors as the bargaining prowess of each player and the information that each has about the structure of payoffs that all players can achieve as a result of cooperation.

Figure 1 illustrates a simple two-party game, relevant to a wide variety of cases. Payoffs are expressed in units of cardinal utility,[28] and payoffs to player 1 increase rightward along the horizontal axis, while payoffs to player 2 increase in the vertical direction. In this illustration, the “threat point” payoffs that the players could achieve in the absence of cooperation are denoted by the pairing [U1o, U2o]. Neither player will agree to accept less from a cooperative arrangement than it could achieve unilaterally—the principle of individual rationality. Thus, only the points within the shaded space in this figure fall within the feasible set of solutions. These are the possible pairings of the utility levels of players 1 and 2 as a function of the costs they incur to enhance the production or quality of the shared resource and the benefits they derive from that effort. Points outside of the shaded region violate one or the other player’s individual rationality constraint, and some of them would yield a net social loss. The curved line represents the “Pareto boundary” of possible equilibrium solutions to the game.[29] Along the Pareto boundary it is not possible to further increase the utility of one player without harming the other.[30] In the absence of side-payments, the efficient “bargaining set” would be confined to that darkened segment of the Pareto boundary which lies between the horizontal and vertical lines passing through the threat point.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Figure 1: Two Party Game


 

 

There is a large amount of literature on game theory describing a wide variety of game situations and applications to different policy problems.[31] Many game theoretic treatments rely on highly simplified representations of the structure of payoffs and availability of information to the players, but analyses that explore the implications of more realistic assumptions provide useful insights on conditions that can promote or inhibit cooperation.[32] Relevant factors include exactly how the payoffs to one party depend on actions taken by others; the level of uncertainty regarding the structure of payoffs and the intentions of other players; the size of the cooperative gain relative to the transaction costs of negotiating the agreement and monitoring compliance; and the impacts of exogenous changes (e.g., climatic variability) on the shared resource.[33]

When considering the requirements for effective international agreements, it is useful to consider in more detail the implications of state sovereignty;[34] the existence of many nations with different relationships to the animal resources in question; and the multiple fronts on which these nations interact with one another. The number of cooperating parties needed to secure meaningful cooperative gains is an especially important factor, because it is generally more difficult to achieve and maintain cooperation when many independent players are involved.[35]

In addition, Barrett further clarifies the individual rationality concept in the context of international environmental treaties, as follows:

First, a treaty must be individually rational. This means that no party to the treaty can gain by withdrawing, given the choices made by every other country, and that no non-party (if any) can gain by acceding—again, given the decisions made by every other country. It also means that no party can gain by failing to comply, given the treaty’s design. And it means that no non-party (again, if any) can gain by changing its behavior (by polluting more or less, say), given every other country’s behavior.[36]

Uncertainty is a salient aspect of many natural resource management problems, and it can have significant impacts on both the character and outcome of play among parties who are attempting to manage their use or stewardship of the shared resource. For mathematical tractability, game theoretic models often assume that players either possess complete information, or where they don’t, they at least know who knows what, and how other players form expectations when they possess incomplete information.[37] More realistic representations of real-world environmental problems recognize that players have limited ability to predict the payoffs that would be generated by specific management actions,[38] and limited ability to predict the actions of other players.[39]

In addition, the true location of the threat point may be only hazily understood. Given such uncertainty, players may come to differing conclusions about achievable gains and the locus of the bargaining set. If their understandings don’t overlap, they are unlikely to come to a satisfactory agreement. One function of the bargaining process is to reveal information about the players’ valuations, allowing them to converge on a mutually beneficial solution. Information is power in that process. Thus, parties are likely to strategically conceal information on their own true valuations, or send misleading signals intended to bolster their own bargaining positions in order to secure a more favorable distribution of the ultimate gains.[40]

When negotiations on a resource management problem fail, it is sometimes possible to make progress by broadening the scope for bargaining. For example, if one party expects to benefit handsomely from a specific joint management program while a needed partner expects to incur a net cost, the former could induce cooperation by offering a side payment—either in explicit monetary form or implicitly in the form of other concessions.[41] A related tactic would be to link multiple issues together in a comprehensive balancing of concessions and gains. As noted by Professor Folmer et al.:

An interconnected approach to an international environmental problem becomes relevant if the countries in question are also involved in other problems in which the net-benefits of cooperation are (in some sense) reversed. For instance, a country who suffers from transboundary pollution may be an important trade partner of the polluting country and could thereby offer trade concessions to induce the latter to cooperate on environmental issues.[42]

Returning to the subject of animal migration conservation, two types of cases can be distinguished. In the first type, the migratory animals are harvested and each player is interested in how many of those animals it will be able to harvest—both now and in the future. Typically, it is not just the number of harvested animals that matters, but their net value after adjusting for the full cost of harvesting, including the lost future growth and reproductive potential of the harvested animals.[43] When two or more players are harvesting from the same population, the ability of each to take those future values into account is constrained by the fact that an animal that one player leaves unharvested may very well be taken by another. Each player’s harvesting subtracts animal units from the common population, making them unavailable to the other players. Thus, in the absence of a mechanism to control incentives to engage in a harvesting race, the outcome is likely to be a classic “tragedy of the commons” that will tend to dissipate the potential economic value of the shared resource and may greatly reduce the size of the animal population and its resilience to other stresses.[44]

In the second type of case, the value that each player attaches to the migratory animals is derived not from harvesting, but rather from enjoyment of the aesthetic values and ecosystem services provided by the animal population. The enjoyment of such values by one party need not subtract from the enjoyment of others, and to the extent that others cannot be excluded from partaking in the benefits supplied by the resource, it would be characterized as a “public good.”[45]

A. Harvesting Games

Let us start with the first type of case. One might naively assume harvesting games to be “zero-sum” with any gain to one party necessarily coming at the expense of the other. If that were the case, there would be nothing to be gained by cooperating. Obviously, if I catch a fish, it is no longer there for you to catch, but unless we are exactly identical including the detail of how many fish we have already caught, we are likely to feel differently about the value of catching that particular fish. If there is such a difference in the marginal utility (satisfaction) that two parties would derive from catching that fish, there is already a gain to be achieved by assuring that player with the higher marginal valuation actually gets the fish and then compensates the other player by an amount sufficient to make up for that party’s loss of the fish.[46]

Further gains can be achieved by retreating from destructive competitive over-harvesting of a shared resource. Cooperation can thus increase the size of the pie to be shared, and promote a higher level of satisfaction from the sharing. As previously noted, the potential for gain is a necessary first condition for a cooperative solution to a harvesting game.[47]

Looking again at Figure 1, in this case the levels of utility enjoyed by each party would be interpreted as depending on the allocation of harvests between them. The Pareto boundary has a convex shape (i.e., bulging upward at its center). Near the upper-left-hand corner of the Pareto boundary, the value to player 1 of an increment in its share of the harvest is very high, but that marginal value would tend to decline as one moves downward and to the right along the boundary. Simultaneously, the marginal value to player 2 grows, more than offsetting the former’s decline. The darkened segment of the frontier satisfies the Pareto-optimal condition for a stable game solution.

Again, the threat point [U1o, U2o], represents the payoffs available to the players when they make independent and competitive harvesting decisions. The fact that it falls well below the boundary reflects the destructive effects of such competitive harvesting.

This very simple model demonstrates the existence of many joint harvesting arrangements that are preferable to the non-cooperative threat point. Which solution is achieved will depend on how the gains to each party are effectively weighted in the negotiation process. For example, if the parties’ levels of well-being [U1 o, U2 o] are given equal weight, then there is one coordinated management arrangement which maximizes total community utility (well-being). This corresponds to the point P—the point of tangency of the Pareto boundary of the feasible solution set with a 45-degree line.[48]

One also can use this simple model to examine the possible effects of climate change on a binational harvest sharing agreement. By altering the spatial distribution of the exploited populations, climate change could disrupt cooperation by shifting the position of the threat point. Such a situation is depicted in Figure 2. Suppose that the threat point is initially at To and the players have struck an agreement within the bargaining set A–B. A climatic shift then occurs that favors player 2. For example, the population’s migratory pattern may have changed to increase the period of residence in player 2’s territory. If this changes the position of the threat point to T1, there is still plenty of room for mutually advantageous cooperation within the new bargaining set C–D. However player 1 might fail to recognize the shift, while player 2, believing that the new migratory pattern represents a long-term change, would no longer find the original cooperative agreement to be acceptable. That player now would expect to do better by refusing to cooperate than by adhering to the original agreement. In such a situation, renegotiation of the terms of cooperation will be necessary to avoid a retreat to mutually destructive competition (i.e., to the new threat point), and the likelihood of successful renegotiation will depend on whether or not the two parties come to a shared understanding of the true position of the threat point.


Figure 2: Game with Climate-Induced Shift in Threat Point

B. Issues Related to Non-Harvested Migratory Species

The issues surrounding the conservation of unharvested migratory animals are somewhat different in that the focus is not on allocation of shares of a harvested stock, but rather on allocation of responsibility for taking actions that will contribute to a public good. In broad terms, the analytics of the two types of games would be similar, but the nature of the payoffs would be different. It also is likely to be the case that the specific actions over which the players will be negotiating are somewhat more complex and multifaceted than choices about allowable harvest rates, techniques, and locations. For example, a wide range of options might be available for selection of sites to be preserved and for the design of a network of interlinked reserves along a migration corridor, which may open up numerous opportunities for making trade-offs across multiple elements of a package of conservation options. This could help to ensure that each player’s individual rationality constraint is met, but it also could lead to rather protracted and complex negotiations that could eat into the aggregate gains achievable under a coordinated conservation agreement.

The prospective impacts of climate change will also create moving targets for the negotiation process. Preserving the viability and resilience of migratory species in the face of global environmental change will require maintaining the animals’ ability to move freely between favorable breeding sites and areas offering “abundant but ephemeral resources”[49] for feeding. This is difficult even in the absence of the effects of climate change, and the task is likely to become considerably more complex as climate change leads to changes in habitat characteristics and shifting migratory patterns.[50]

Professor Todd Sandler provides an informative discussion of the role of uncertainty and alternative payoff configurations in the context of games involving provision of public goods.[51] In the paper abstract he summarizes: “Factors promoting collective action at the transnational level include the removal of uncertainty, a high share of nation-specific benefits, a limited number of essential participants and the presence of an influential leader nation.”[52] Each of these factors is relevant for analysis of options for promoting international cooperation on the protection of animal migrations. For example, the significance of uncertainty suggests that joint scientific research and monitoring can play important roles in maintaining cooperation. As climate change creates new uncertainties about the responses of migratory animals to evolving stresses and about the likely efficacy of specific management actions, it seems likely that transparent exchange of scientific data and collaborative research will become increasingly important.[53]

Regarding “nation-specific benefits,” Sandler argues that it is important to understand whether the international coordination problem revolves around provision of “pure” public goods that “provide non-rival and non-excludable benefits to the world at large” or “impurely-public” goods having a mixture of public and private attributes.[54] Specifically, some international environmental policy problems, such as controlling greenhouse gas emissions, involve pure public goods. In those cases, the level of benefit enjoyed by each nation depends only on the aggregate contributions of all nations to its provision. Games about provision of pure public goods face significant challenges in inducing participation and rewarding performance in that it is difficult if not impossible to exclude non-participants from enjoying the fruits of others’ labors. Such free-riding inhibits—and may even prevent—cooperative action, and it is thus a potentially significant hurdle to be addressed.

In other cases, the benefits enjoyed by an individual nation may have some public good attributes, but may also depend importantly on that nation’s own investments in the shared resource. In addition, the benefits accruing to one nation may depend significantly on the actions of a specific other nation. These cases can be described by expressing benefits to each nation as a weighted function of its own and other nations’ contributions to provision of the impurely-public good. For example, suppose that the benefits from protecting an animal migration could be described as follows:


Where Bi denotes the benefits enjoyed by nation i; bj is the production of benefits by nation j; and aij is the share of country j’s provision received by country i.[55] If the aij term is close to one, while the aij terms are small, the benefits enjoyed by nation i would depend mostly on its own conservation investments and only slightly on the actions of other nations. Such would be the case if the most critical breeding and feeding sites are located in nation i, but a portion of the population makes short forays into the territory of a neighboring country, where losses could result from hunting or habitat destruction. If that is the case, nation i would have a relatively strong incentive to undertake conservation actions regardless of action by the other country, but also might find it advantageous to provide a side payment to the other country to encourage habitat preservation or regulation of hunting activity.

In an alternative case, the benefits accruing to nation i might depend heavily on actions taken in one or more other countries. For example, a population of migratory birds might spend part of the year in the first country, where it is highly prized by bird watchers, or where it performs important insect-control services. Its critical breeding sites, however, might be located elsewhere where the citizens may or may not especially care about the status of the population. In such a case, the likelihood of achieving a satisfactory transnational management agreement and the structure of that agreement would depend on how many countries control portions of the critical habitat, as well as their relative contributions to, and valuations of the status of the migrating population. As noted above, cooperative action is more likely if a small number of parties are involved; they are all well informed both about the dynamics of the population and about one another’s perspectives; and leadership is exercised by one of the nations involved.

III. Insights from Case Analyses

A. North Pacific Fur Seals and Statecraft

Scott Barrett points to the 1911 North Pacific Fur Seal Treaty[56] as a stellar example of a successful international agreement to manage harvesting of a migratory species, and he uses his analysis of that case to illustrate the conditions that must be met for an international environmental agreement to succeed.[57] He identifies five key tasks that a treaty must perform if it is to improve on the consequences of unilateral action. These are:

(1) create an aggregate gain, a reason for all countries to come to the bargaining table; (2) distribute this gain such that all countries would prefer that the agreement succeed; (3) ensure that each country would lose by not participating, given that all the other agreed to participate; (4) provide incentives for all the parties to comply with the treaty; and (5) deter entry by third parties.[58]

We begin with a brief history of the case. Industrial harvesting of Pacific fur seal (Callorhinus ursinus) pelts began in the late eighteenth century.[59] The pelts were a highly valuable commodity, but only a handful of nations were engaged in the harvest.[60] By the late nineteenth century the market was narrower still, with virtually all sales going to London furriers, who were able to maintain a monopoly position by closely guarding the secrets of their processing techniques.[61]

Initially, virtually all harvesting took place on land at the breeding rookeries.[62] The major breeding sites were within the national jurisdictions of Russia and the United States, but there were shifts in ownership of the rookeries as territorial boundaries changed as a consequence of the Alaska Treaty of 1867,[63] and the transfer of Robben Island to Japan in 1906 at the end of the Russo–Japanese War.[64] After short periods of destructive overexploitation, each national authority quickly developed a relatively effective set of regulations to control land-based harvesting within
its jurisdiction.[65]

Fur seals, however, spend much of their time at sea, beyond the three-mile territorial waters of these nations,[66] where they were vulnerable to uncontrolled capture by other nations.[67] In particular, Canadian and Japanese harvesters engaged in highly-inefficient harvesting at sea, which resulted in sharp declines in the seal populations.[68] A number of ineffective bilateral agreements were tried[69] before the United States, Russia, Canada, Japan, and Great Britain finally signed the 1911 Pacific Fur Seal Treaty, which succeeded in performing all five of the tasks enumerated above.

It was the very inefficiency of at-sea harvesting that provided the major impetus for the cooperative solution. Harvesting on land was both cheaper and biologically more sustainable than pelagic harvesting.[70] Large aggregations of easily-herded animals at the rookeries made harvesting there trivially easy.[71] Breeding females could be protected on land, but could not be readily distinguished and protected by vessels hunting the seals at sea.[72] This differential harvesting efficiency created the potential for large aggregate gains from a cooperative agreement.

The 1911 Pacific Fur Seal Treaty banned all pelagic harvesting, and compensated the nations that had formerly engaged in that harvest with both pelts and cash.[73] Under the agreement, a set of multilateral transfers satisfied the individual rationality of each participant, distributed the benefits of the harvest in a way that all could perceive as fair, and gave them incentives to remain true to the agreement. Specifically, the United States made up-front cash payments and supplied fifteen percent of its harvested skins each to Great Britain and Japan.[74] Russia shared fifteen percent of its skins each with Canada and Japan, while Japan transferred ten percent of its skins each to the United States, Canada, and Russia.[75] “Each country was thus required by the treaty to forfeit thirty percent of its annual harvest of sealskins, provided it had a population to exploit: a bargain that was symmetric, and for that reason, fair.”[76] In addition, the parties were induced to join the agreement and to honor their commitments by provisions specifying that the treaty would come into effect only when ratified by all four nations, and that the agreement would be dissolved if any country should withdraw.[77] Finally, because Great Britain represented the only market for those unprocessed furs, the treaty participants were able to deter the entry of non-participating nations by stipulating that only authenticated furs—harvested by one of the member nations—could be imported into the British market.[78]

B. Atlantic Bluefin Tuna

Not all efforts to cooperate on harvesting of migratory species come to such a happy conclusion. The story of Atlantic Bluefin Tuna (Thunnus thynnus) management stands in stark contrast to the successful Pacific fur seal case. The Atlantic Bluefin Tuna engages in long-distance migrations across the Atlantic Basin.[79] There are considered to be two stocks that intermingle on the high seas, but breed separately in the Mediterranean Sea and the Gulf of Mexico.[80] Both stocks have been heavily overharvested and have experienced sharp declines in population levels.[81] Their declining status prompted a 2009 proposal by the government of Monaco to list them as an Appendix I species under Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species of Wild Fauna and Flora (CITES).[82] Had the proposal succeeded—it did not—it would have banned international trade in the species[83]—a rather draconian step that would have eliminated the major market for these fish. Uncertainty about the impact of climate variability in driving fluctuations in the abundance of the eastern stock of Atlantic Bluefin played a role in the debate over the CITES listing proposal. Opponents of the listing cited evidence of large historical swings in abundance that could have had little to do with fishing pressure in arguing that the current downturn could be at least partly attributed to climatic factors and that “[i]t is extremely difficult to estimate the initial (unfished) stock biomass of such resources.”[84]

The International Commission for the Conservation of Atlantic Tuna (ICCAT) was established in 1969 to promote conservation of tunas and tuna-like species in the Atlantic Ocean and its adjacent seas.[85] However, throughout its history ICCAT has largely failed to implement and enforce effective management measures, especially for bluefin tuna—the most valuable of the approximately thirty species within its purview.[86] In the eastern Atlantic and Mediterranean, long-term overfishing has diminished the population of East Atlantic bluefin tuna to a fraction of the biomass that is considered consistent with maximum sustainable yield and stock collapse is a real possibility.[87] In addition, expanding pen-fattening and farming operations to serve the sashimi market[88] have both intensified harvesting pressure and have contributed to massive under-reporting of catches.[89] The harvesting race has been fueled by very high market prices for sashimi-grade bluefin tuna, with especially high prices for large specimens with a high fat content.[90]

A recent high-level review of ICCAT’s performance chastised the commission’s membership (called Contracting Parties, Cooperating non‑Contracting Parties, Entities and Fishing Entities, or CPC), finding that

ICCAT CPCs’ performance in managing fisheries on bluefin tuna particularly in the eastern Atlantic and Mediterranean Sea is widely regarded as an international disgrace and the international community which has entrusted the management of this iconic species to ICCAT deserve better performance from ICCAT than it has received to date.[91]

The large number of fishing nations included in ICCAT’s membership is one of the significant factors behind the organization’s inability to achieve cooperation.[92] As is the case for other international Regional Fishery Management Organizations (RFMOs), ICCAT does not have direct authority to control harvesting activities, but rather provides a forum for member nations to develop recommended management measures that they each agree to implement.[93] In ICCAT’s experience, even when management measures have been agreed, widespread failure to comply with the rules has allowed competitive overharvesting to continue almost unabated.[94] In laying blame at the doorstep of the CPCs, the Independent Review concludes that

the Panel is of the view that rather than ICCAT failing in its mandate it is ICCAT that has been failed by its members (CPCs). Most of the evidence available to the Panel is that ICCAT has with a few exceptions, adopted in its basic texts and recommendations generally sound approaches to fisheries management. However this has been undermined by systemic failures by CPCs to implement such rules and recommendations.[95]

This conclusion is supported by a recent report by the International Consortium of Investigative Journalists, which argues that “behind the plummeting stocks is a decade-long history of rampant fraud and lack of official oversight. Each year, thousands of tons of fish have been illegally caught and traded. At its peak—between 1998 and 2007—this black market included more than one out of every three bluefin caught.”[96] The Independent Review Panel made a number of recommendations to strengthen ICCAT’s ability to enforce management measures, including providing for stringent penalties for failure to enforce quotas and accurately report harvests, [97] but is unclear if such measures stand much chance of being adopted in the absence of a dramatic stock collapse or concerted citizen pressure on member governments. ICCAT introduced a Bluefin Catch Document Scheme in 2008 which requires that a tag be attached to each harvested fish.[98] The tag is intended to provide a fully traceable record from point of capture to point of sale.[99] While the system could theoretically short-circuit the black market, numerous holes in documentation have been uncovered.[100] A hopeful sign is that non-governmental organizations—including the above-mentioned investigative journalists and international environmental groups—have entered the fray and are applying pressure on the governments of fishing nations, including the government of Japan—the major market for Atlantic bluefin tuna—to implement more effective control measures.[101] In game-theoretic terms, such third-party “naming and shaming” activity can act to alter players’ perceived payoffs in ways that would make cooperative conservation more likely.[102]

C. Eastern African Wildebeest Migration

An interesting asymmetric game concerning conservation of largely-unharvested migratory animals is currently playing out in eastern Africa where the nations of Tanzania and Kenya are facing off over the proposed construction of a road that could imperil a phenomenon regarded as the world’s last “Great Migration.”[103] This annual spectacle involves the mass movement of over 1 million wildebeest (Connochaetes taurinus), 200,000 zebra (Equus burchelli), 18,000 eland (Taurotragus oryx), and 500,000 Thompson’s gazelle (Gazella thomsoni), as well as associated predators that prey on the hoofed migrants through a grand circuit in northern Tanzania and the southwest corner of Kenya.[104] The annual journey begins in Tanzania, where the wildebeest and other grazers follow seasonal moisture and nutrient gradients, moving through several protected areas in the Serengeti ecosystem.[105] At the start of the dry season, the animals move north into Kenya’s water-rich Maasai Mara.[106] Three months later, the wildebeest assemblage journeys southward back into Tanzania.[107]

The wildebeest migration attracts several hundred thousand tourists to East Africa each year, providing an important source of income for both Tanzania and Kenya. It is estimated that tourism accounted for approximately fifteen percent of both countries’ GDPs in 2007, providing revenues of nearly $4 and $2.7 billion annually to Kenya and Tanzania, respectively.[108] While this ecotourism income is important to both countries, there are differences in what it costs each country to preserve this migration. Specifically, Kenya’s Maasai Mara covers only five percent of the wildebeest’s range area and occupies a small corner of Kenya, while Tanzania hosts the remainder of the habitat.[109] In addition to management expenses that Tanzania incurs for its Serengeti National Park and the adjacent protected areas traversed by the migrating herds, Tanzania argues that the absence of roads in the area imposes significant costs on its citizens in the form of limited access to convenient transportation routes.[110]

To remedy that problem, Tanzania’s government recently announced plans to build a road to connect a remote area near Lake Victoria with the rest of the country, bisecting thirty miles of a key migratory corridor (Figure 3).[111] Similar plans had been proposed in the past and rejected due to expected environmental impacts including increased poacher access, introduction of invasive species, and direct interference with the migration.[112] A key concern is that the danger posed by the migrating animals to human travelers would require fencing, which could isolate the wildebeest from food and water sources and lead to massive die-offs.[113] Scientists estimate that the road could reduce the wildebeest population from its current level to fewer than 300,000 animals.[114]

The road was a campaign promise from President Kikwete to rural communities, and if built, it would connect these communities with new economic development opportunities.[115] Another possible motivation for the road is a recent discovery of a gold deposit near the Serengeti, expected to produce 4000 ounces of gold annually for twenty years.[116] The road is expected to cost about $500 million.[117]

Several environmental organizations have proposed an alternate route that would bypass the Serengeti ecosystem to the south of the park, adding about 250 miles to the proposed route, but linking the same regional centers and serving about five times the rural populations.[118] This alternative would effectively address Kenya’s concerns about ecotourism, but would add additional construction costs, and would lengthen travel-times for many of the proposed beneficiaries of the road project. Other possible alternatives include building overpasses and underpasses, which have been used to help animals cross roads in other migratory corridors.[119] These technical solutions would add significant expenses to a road construction project, and it is not clear that they would be feasible for the wildebeest migration, given the sheer number of wildebeests and other animals that would need to cross the road. These solutions also do not address all of the significant conservation concerns with the road, such as the increased risk of poaching, development in the park, and the introduction of invasive species.

Both countries stand to lose ecotourism income if the currently proposed road is built, but this contest is marked by asymmetries in expected payoffs, access to information, and power to affect the outcome. Kenya would likely experience substantial losses if Tanzania presses forward with the current plan, while it appears that Tanzania expects the economic development benefits of the road to more than offset its loss of tourism dollars. Tanzania possesses the overriding power in this conflict—it has the unilateral ability to choose whether or not to build the road and where to put it. Kenya’s ability to influence that decision is relatively limited, but includes the option of offering a monetary payment to its neighbor for selecting the less damaging route.

The size of the side payment that Kenya would need to make is not entirely clear. At a minimum Tanzania could demand compensation for additional construction costs and for the additional inconvenience to its citizens from the longer alternative route—minus adjustment for the fact that the longer route would likely avoid loss of its own tourism income. One would call this hypothetical minimum payment Tanzania’s willingness to accept (WTA). But uncertainty prevails—Kenya does not know Tanzania’s WTA and Tanzania is not likely to reveal the minimum payment that it would accept for choosing the road option preferred by Kenya. Rather, as the power-holder in the negotiations, it would be to Tanzania’s advantage to play up its threat to proceed as planned, because by making the threat credible, it will likely capture a larger share of the gains from an eventual cooperative solution.[120] Given the size of Kenya’s potential losses, Tanzania could potentially extract a side-payment for accepting the alternate route well in excess of its minimum WTA. Of course, Kenya’s maximum willingness to pay (WTP) to avoid damage to the migration and the resulting loss of ecotourism income is also unknown to its neighbor, so the negotiation process is likely to entail some jockeying back forth—each side probing the other to discover just where a bargain might be struck.

Another twist in this story is that Kenya is not the only potential loser. There is a large international community that values the existence and vitality of the wildebeest migration. This community cares about the outcome of the road dispute and may be willing to use both sticks and carrots to convince Tanzania to accept the alternative, less environmentally-damaging proposed route. For example, ecotourism interests could potentially mount a travel boycott against Tanzania, or alternatively, foreign governments and NGOs might offer to cover part or all of the additional costs of the preferred road option. Such actions would change Tanzania’s expected payoffs from its alternative courses of actions. In addition, it would be to Kenya’s advantage to convince these potential foreign donors to step up and shoulder a major share of any side-payment to Tanzania.

Given the fact that there is considerable uncertainty about what each country stands to gain or lose from the alternative road development proposals, it may be advantageous for both countries to delay a resolution and advertise the threat to the global community in order to muster substantial external contributions for the environmentally-preferable alternative. At present, it is not clear how Tanzania and Kenya will resolve their differences and what the solution will mean to the future of the wildebeest migration. It is likely, however, that the international community’s involvement will play a role.

One issue that has not yet received much attention is the extent to which climate change might alter the environmental conditions that drive the wildebeest migration. If so, would that appreciably alter the migration route, the size of the herds involved in the migration, and the potential impacts of either of the road placement alternatives? Those are the types of questions that a functional cooperative process would need to consider.

IV. Concluding Thoughts

These cases demonstrate the complexity of policymaking for animal migration conservation, especially when multiple sovereign nations would need to take action to ensure protection of the animals and their habitats. Even in the absence of the complications posed by the impacts of climate variability and climate change, environmental statecraft is difficult—requiring both art and science. Insights from the theory of games can help negotiators to understand the challenges that need to be addressed and potential avenues for their resolution. As Barrett notes, the ingredients for a successful environmental agreement include focusing on provisions designed to yield net gains to the participants; distributing those gains in a way that all perceive as fair; providing incentives to make participation in the agreement and compliance with its terms the best strategy for all relevant parties; and ensuring that the gains from cooperative action cannot be undermined by the actions of non-participants.[121] This is a tall order even under stable environmental conditions. When considering the further challenges posed by environmental variability and the prospective effects of climate change, we can add one more element to this order—specifically, that there must be a fair and flexible mechanism for modifying agreed management plans in response to changing conditions and new information. This will require transparency about both the process and the information upon which management revisions will be based. In providing that transparency, collaborative multinational scientific research programs will need to play an increasing role.

 


Figure 3: Map of the wildebeest migration,
proposed road, and alternate route.

 

Reprinted by permission from Macmillan Publishers Ltd: [Nature]: Andrew Dobson et al, Road Will Ruin Serengeti, 467 Nature 272, 272 (2010).



* Climate Science and Applications Program, National Center for Atmospheric Research, P.O. Box 3000, Boulder CO 80307; Kathleen@ucar.edu. The author gratefully acknowledges the substantial contributions made by Elizabeth A. Baldwin (J.D. Candidate, Indiana University Maurer School of Law; M.P.A. Candidate, Indiana University School for Public and Environmental Affairs) on the Eastern African Wildebeest Migration case study.

[1] See generally Robert L. Fischman & Jeffery B. Hyman, The Legal Challenge of Protecting Animal Migrations as Phenomena of Abundance, 28 Va. Envtl. L.J. 173 (2010) (discussing the value of refocusing migratory animal conservation policy to foster abundance, and a describing the threats that must be addressed in order to maintain animal migrations as a phenomenon of abundance).

[2] Population Div., U.N. Dep’t of Econ. & Soc. Affairs, World Population Prospects: The 2008 Revision, Highlights, Working Paper No. ESA/P/WP.210, ax vii (2009), available at http://esa.un.org/unpd/wpp2008/pdf/WPP2008_Highlights.pdf.

[3] See generally David S. Wilcove, No Way Home: The Decline of the World’s Great Animal Migrations 5–6 (2008) (outlining four threats to migration from human activity); David Molden et al., Trends in Water and Agricultural Development, in Water for Food Water for Life: A Comprehensive Assessment of Water Management in Agriculture 57, 58–60 (David Molden ed., 2007).

[4] J. Michael Scott et al., National Wildlife Refuges, in U.S. Climate Change Sci. Program, Preliminary Review of Adaptation Options for Climate-Sensitive Ecosystems and Resources, at 5-1, 5-15 (Susan Herrod Julius & Jordan M. West eds., 2008), available at http://downloads.climatescience.gov/sap/sap4-4/sap4-4-final-report-all.pdf; see Markus Ahola et al., Variation in Climate Warming Along the Migration Route Uncouples Arrival and Breeding Dates, 10 Global Change Biology 1610, 1610–15 (2004); Camille Parmesan, Ecological and Evolutionary Responses to Recent Climate Change, 37 Ann. Rev. Ecology Evolution Systematics 637, 642–44 (2006) (describing climate change impacts on species’ phenologies).

[5] Food & Agric. Org., World Agriculture: Towards 2015/2030 an FAO Perspective 357–74 (Jelle Bruinsma ed., 2003); Zbigniew W. Kundzewicz et al., Freshwater Resources and Their Management, in Climate Change 2007: Impacts, Adaptation and Vulnerability 173, 191–92 (Martin Perry et al. eds., 2007), available at http://www.ipcc-wg2.gov/AR4/website/03.pdf.

[6] Wilcove, supra note 3, at 5.

[7] Fischman & Hyman, supra note 1, at 183.

[8] Id.

[9] See id. at 184 (giving examples of threats such as dams, buildings, roads, and fences that were not necessarily put in place to harm migration routes).

[10] See Wilcove, supra note 3, at 6 (explaining how a single road can eliminate a salamander population).

[11] See, e.g., Fischman & Hyman, supra note 1, at 184 (describing how hydroelectric dams are a common obstacle to salmon migration).

[12] See id. at 179 (“Protecting migrations typically involves some sort of inter-jurisdictional challenge.”); see also Scott Barrett, Environment and Statecraft: The Strategy of Environmental Treaty-Making xi (2003) (describing the difficulties associated with negotiating and enforcing transnational environmental treaties); David N. Cherney, Securing the Free Movement of Wildlife: Lessons from the American West’s Longest Land Mammal Migration, 41 Envtl. L. 599, 612–15 (2011); David S. Wilcove & Martin Wikelski, Going, Going, Gone: Is Animal Migration Disappearing?, 6 PLoS Biology 1361, 1363 (2008) (“It seems reasonable to assume that the more jurisdictions a species crosses, the more difficult it is to protect.”).

[13] Barrett, supra note 12, at 49–50.

[14] See generally Drew Fudenberg & Jean Tirole, Introduction to Game Theory xviii (1991) (exploring the aspects of game theory most useful for economic problems); Don Ross, Game Theory, in Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy (2010) available at http://plato.stanford.edu/
entries/game-theory/ (summarizing the philosophical and historical context of game theory).

[15] Fudenberg & Tirole, supra note 14, at xviii.

[16] Ross, supra note 14, pt. 1.

[17] Id. pt. 1.

[18] Id. pt. 2.2.

[19] Barrett, supra note 12, at xi.

[20] Id. at 62–64.

[21] Id. at 33.

[22] Id.

[23] Ross, supra note 14, pt. 2.4.

[24] Id.

[25] See id. pt. 2.7 (explaining that the altruistic intentions of the players may alter the payoff structure and turn what otherwise would have been a prisoner-dilemma game into a non-prisoner-dilemma game); Barrett, supra note 12, at 57 (noting that a 1911 treaty “restructured the game” of seal hunting such that overharvesting was no longer an equilibrium).

[26] See Fundenberg & Tirole, supra note 14, at 245, 247 (explaining that the scholarly literature presumes the individual rationality constraint to be applicable except in certain situations, especially where the government can coerce individuals to participate in game theoretic situations).

[27] Ross, supra note 14, pt. 2.5 (explaining, for example, that the solution to the prisoner’s dilemma is called the Nash Equilibrium, in which no player can improve his or her payoff given the strategies of the other players). Barrett observes that it may take several iterations of repeated play for a set of players to discover and converge on an equilibrium game solution. See Barrett, supra note 12, at 57.

[28] Economists use the concept of “utility” as a measure of individual satisfaction or psychic well-being. See Ross, supra note 14, pt. 2.1 (explaining that ordinal utility functions rank an individual’s preferences without regard to differences in magnitude between those preferences, while cardinal utility functions do take magnitudes into account).

[29] Orris C. Herfindahl & Allen V. Kneese, Economic Theory of Natural Resources 40–47 (1974) (discussing the similarity between the production and distribution pareto boundaries); cf. Joseph E. Stiglitz, Economics 321–22 (2d ed. 1997) (providing a discussion of pareto curves in the context of economic production).

[30] See Todd Sandler, Collective Action: Theory and Applications 13 (1992).

[31] Avinash K. Dixit & Barry J. Nalebuff, The Art of Strategy: A Game Theorist’s Guide to Success in Business & Life 64–66 (2008) (describing game theory in the context of price wars, elections, and fisheries); Fudenberg & Tirole, supra note 14, at 416–21 (describing game theory in the context of short- and long-term rental contracts); see, e.g., Fanny Missfeldt, Nuclear Power Games, in Game Theory and the Environment 98, 98 (Nick Hanley & Henk Folmer eds., 1998) (describing game theory in the context of transboundary pollution from nuclear accidents); Andrew Schotter & Gerhard Schwödiauer, Economics and the Theory of Games: A Survey, 18 J. Econ. Literature 479, 488–93 (1980) (describing game theory in the context of public utility pricing).

[32] See Ross, supra note 14, pt. 7.3 (noting that it is advisable for contemporary researchers using game theory to model social situations among human beings to discover the actual utility functions of the members of the community that they are studying).

[33] See, e.g., Ross, supra note 14, pt. 5 (explaining that the models of cold war dynamics were overly simplified and ignored factors relating to the global context of the standoff between the United States and Russia).

[34] Elizabeth A. Baldwin, Twenty-Five Years Under the Convention on Migratory Species: Migration Conservation Lessons from Europe, 41 Envtl. L. 535, 544 (2011) (explaining that although an international memorandum of understanding is not legally binding, it may still encourage a party with national sovereignty concerns to participate considering that it can be politically binding).

[35] Todd Sandler & Keith Sargent, Management of Transnational Commons: Coordination, Publicness, and Treaty Formation, 71 Land Econ. 145, 145 (1995) (“An increase in the number of ratifiers creates a trade-off between the efficiency gains from increased participation and the opportunity to free ride by the nonparticipants. Transaction costs may also rise as the size of the ratification group increases.”).

[36] Barrett, supra note 12, at xiii.

[37] Michael Finus, Game Theory and International Environmental Cooperation 15–16 (2001).

[38] Robert McKelvey et al., Fish-Wars Revisited: A Stochastic Incomplete-Information Harvesting Game, in Risk and Uncertainty in Environmental and Natural Resources Economics 93, 94, 98 (Justus Wesseler et al. eds., 2003).

[39] Carlisle Ford Runge, Institutions and the Free Rider: The Assurance Problem in Collective Action, 46 J. Pol. 154, 162, 164 (1984).

[40] See Dixit & Nalebuff, supra note 31, at 181–83 (discussing the use of threats in bargaining); David Ettinger & Philippe Jehiel, A Theory of Deception, 2 Am. Econ. J.: Microeconomics 1 (2010) (discussing asymmetric information in games).

[41] Gordon Munro et al., Food & Agric. Org., Fisheries Technical Paper No. 465, The Conservation and Management of Shared Fish Stocks: Legal and Economic Aspects 17 (2004) (discussing the value of side payments, also called “negotiation facilitators”).

[42] Henk Folmer et al., Interconnected Games and International Environmental Problems, 3 Envtl. & Resource Econ. 313, 315 (arguing that the practice of tying multiple issues together in a set of negotiations may be more palatable than explicit side payments, which may signify application of a “victim pays” principle).

[43] Colin W. Clark, Mathematical Bioeconomics: The Optimal Management of Renewable Resources 4–5, 26 (1976).

[44] Colin W. Clark, Restricted Access to Common-Property Fishery Resources: A Game-Theoretic Analysis, in Dynamic Optimization and Mathematical Economics 117, 117–18 (Pan-Tai Liu ed., 1980); see Gordon R. Munro, The Optimal Management of Transboundary Fisheries: Game Theoretic Considerations, 4 Nat. Resources Modeling 403 (1990) (discussing transboundary fish management works to create cooperation among competing interests).

[45] Sandler, supra note 30, at 5–6.

[46] Kathleen A. Miller et al., The 1999 Pacific Salmon Agreement: A Sustainable Solution?, Canadian-Am. Pub. Pol’y, Oct. 1, 2001, 2001 WLNR 12684965. This example assumes that harvesting costs do not differ across the individuals. It also can be demonstrated that differences in the technical efficiency of harvesting across different parties would affect the solution to a cooperative game. See, e.g., Clark, supra note 43, at 158–65.

[47] Barrett, supra note 12, at 33.

[48] See McKelvey et al., supra note 38, at 96–98.

[49] Fischman & Hyman, supra note 1, at 182–83 (quoting Wilcove, supra note 3, at 4).

[50] See Parmesan, supra note 4, at 644–45, 648, 657 (documenting shifts in species ranges in response to warmer conditions, and giving evidence of growing temporal and spatial mismatches between blooms in prey species and the ability of migratory animals to relocate to take advantage of those blooms).

[51] Todd Sandler, Global and Regional Public Goods: A Prognosis for Collective Action, 19 Fiscal Stud. 221, 223 (1998).

[52] Id. at 221.

[53] For a related argument, see Kathleen Miller et al., Climate Change, Uncertainty, and Resilient Fisheries: Institutional Responses Through Integrative Science, 87 Progress Oceanography 338, 341–44 (2010).

[54] Sandler, supra note 51, at 222.

[55] Id. at 226. Notation has been slightly modified for this presentation.

[56] International Convention for Protection of Fur Seals, July 7, 1911, 37 Stat. 1542.

[57] Barrett, supra note 12, at 19–48.

[58] Id. at 33.

[59] Id. at 20, 23–25.

[60] See id. at 19, 22–23.

[61] Id. at 38.

[62] See id. at 19–22.

[63] Treaty Concerning the Cession of the Russian Possessions in North America by His Majesty the Emperor of All the Russias to the United States of America, U.S.-Russ., Mar. 30, 1867, 15 Stat. 539; see also Barrett, supra note 12, at 22–25.

[64] Barrett, supra note 12, at 31.

[65] See id. at 22–25.

[66] Id. at 25.

[67] See id.

[68] Id. at 25–27, 30–31.

[69] See id. at 28–29, 31.

[70] See id. at 33.

[71] Id. at 21.

[72] Id. at 25–27.

[73] Id. at 31–32, 34.

[74] Id. at 34.

[75] Id. at 34.

[76] Id.

[77] Id. at 35–36.

[78] Id. at 38.

[79] See Michael J. W. Stokesbury et al., Results of Satellite Tagging of Atlantic Bluefin Tuna, Thunnus thynnus, Off the Coast of Ireland, 582 Hydrobiologia 91, 96–97 (2007) (discussing the migratory routes of Atlantic bluefin tuna).

[80] Standing Comm. on Research & Statistics, Int’l Comm’n for the Conservation of Atlantic Tunas, Report for the Biennial Period, 2010-11: Part I (2010), at 75 (2011), available at http://www.iccat.int/Documents/BienRep/REP_EN_10-11_I_2.pdf.

[81] Principality of Monaco, Proposal to Include Atlantic Bluefin Tuna (Thunnus thynnus (Linnaeus, 1758)) on Appendix I of CITES in Accordance with Article II of the Convention, at 12–13 (2009), available at http://www.publicintegrity.org/assets/pdf/CitesProposal.pdf (stating that the Atlantic West population was overfished during the 1970s and 1980s and that the Atlantic East population has suffered a high rate of fishing mortality).

[82] Id. at 7; Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species of Wild Fauna and Flora, Mar. 3, 1973, 27 U.S.T. 1087, 993 U.N.T.S. 243.

[83] Makato Miyake, Why Ban of Trade in Atlantic Bluefin Tuna Now? Questions About Scientific Basis of the CITES Appendix Listing Proposal, Newsl. Int’l For Conservation & Sustainable Use of Tunas (Org. for the Promotion of Responsible Tuna Fisheries, Tokyo, Japan), Mar. 2010, available at theabta.com/OP27.pdf; cf. Sarah M. Kutil, Scientific Certainty Thresholds in Fisheries Management: A Response to a Changing Climate, 40 Envtl L. 233, 235 (2011) (stating that the Chukchi and Beaufort Seas have been proactively closed to commercial fishing to protect the ecosystem).

[84] Miyake, supra note 83.

[85] Int’l Comm’n for the Conservation of Atlantic Tuna, Introduction, http://www.iccat.int/en/introduction.htm (last visited Apr. 9, 2010).

[86] Int’l Comm’n for the Conservation of Atlantic Tunas, Report of the Independent Performance Review of ICCAT 39–52 (2009) (noting that ICCAT has developed specific management recommendations for only 13 of the species within its purview); see also Robin Allen, Food & Agric. Org., Fisheries and Aquaculture Technical Paper 536, International Management of Tuna Fisheries: Arrangements, Challenges and a Way Forward 17–22 (2010) (discussing stocks managed by ICCAT).

[87] Allen, supra note 86, at 20–21.

[88] Makoto Peter Miyake et al., Food & Agric. Org., Fisheries and Aquaculture Technical Paper 543, Recent Developments in the Tuna Industry: Stocks, Fisheries, Management, Processing, Trade and Markets, at 35 box 3 (2010). These operations have grown explosively in the Mediterranean since their introduction in 1997. The total capacity of the floating pens now greatly exceeds ICCAT’s agreed total allowable catch (TAC) for eastern Atlantic and Mediterranean bluefin tuna. Id. at 35–37. The function of these operations is to increase the fat content of captured fish to augment their market value. “Juvenile or adult bluefins, which are lean in fat content, are generally captured by purse seines and kept in floating cages, fed excessively for a few months and then exported for the sashimi market.” Id. at 35 box 3.

[89] See Int’l Comm’n for the Conservation of Atlantic Tunas, supra note 86, at 44–45; Allen, supra note 86, at 20–21.

[90] For price information, see Miyake et al., supra note 88, at 67 fig.38, which shows an upward trend in wholesale prices for frozen bluefin tuna in Japan’s main fish market, with average prices since 2008 in the range of $35–$40 (US) per kilogram. A National Geographic website reports that: “In January 2001, a prime, 444-lb (201-kg) bluefin tuna sold in a Japanese fish market for $173,600 (¥20.2 million), a world record.” Nat’l Geographic, Atlantic Bluefin Tuna: Thunnus thynnus, http://animals.nationalgeographic.com/animals/fish/bluefin-tuna.html (last visited Apr. 9, 2011).

[91] Int’l Comm’n for the Conservation of Atlantic Tunas, supra note 86, at 2. ICCAT has a total of 46 contracting parties and 3 cooperating non-contracting parties. Id. at 6.

[92] Id. at 7 (noting that the logistics of coordinating communication with such a large number of CPCs is a significant challenge).

[93] See Munro et al., supra note 43, at 37–42 (discussing the role and powers of Regional Fishery Organizations).

[94] The high market value of bluefin tuna also creates powerful incentives to cheat on agreements. See, e.g., Marina Walker Guevara et al., The Black Market in Bluefin: How a Runaway Fishing Industry Looted the Seas of Tuna, in Int’l Consortium of Investigative Journalists, Looting the Seas: A Global Investigation 2, 4, 7 (2010), available at http://www.
publicintegrity.org/treesaver/tuna/# (last visited Apr. 9, 2011).

[95] Int’l Comm’n for the Conservation of Atlantic Tunas, supra note 86, at 2.

[96] Guevara et al., supra note 94, at 2. Other estimates of the extent of illegal, unregulated and unreported (IUU) harvesting of eastern Atlantic and Mediterranean bluefin tuna are similar. Allen, supra note 86, at 21 (“In 2008, the SCRS estimated total catches of 50,000 tonnes for 2006 and 61,000 tonnes for 2007 compared with reported catches of 30,647 tonnes for 2006 and 32,398 tonnes for 2007. In its comment on the effect of management regulations, the SCRS concluded its advice with ‘Based on the Committee’s analysis, it is apparent that the TAC is not respected and is largely ineffective in controlling overall catch . . . .’”). SCRS refers to ICCAT’s Standing Committee for Research and Statistics, and TAC refers to the total allowable catch as agreed by ICCAT’s member nations. Conservation of Atlantic Tunas, Glossary of Fishery Terms, Int’l Comm’n for the 15, 18 (2000) available at http://www.iccat.int/en/
iccatmanual.asp?mid=5 (click on download link for “A7. Glossary of ICCAT Terms”).

[97] Int’l Comm’n for the Conservation of Atlantic Tunas, supra note 86, at 4.

[98] See id. at 26.

[99] See id.

[100] See id. at 27; Guevara et al., supra note 94, at 2.

[101] See Guevara et al., supra note 94, at 6; see also Pew Env’t Group, CITES Proposal 19: Atlantic Bluefin Tuna (2010), available at http://www.pewtrusts.org/uploadedFiles/
wwwpewtrustsorg/Fact_Sheets/Protecting_ocean_life/English_CITES_tuna_prop19.pdf?n=5396 (explaining that listing the Atlantic bluefin tuna on Appendix 1 of CITES would prohibit international trading of the fish).

[102] David Hunter et al., International Environmental Law and Policy 137 (3d ed. 2007).

[103] Jeffrey Gettleman, Proposed Serengeti Highway Is Lined with Prospects and Fears, N.Y. Times, October 31, 2010, at A6; Paul Wafula, Controversy over Serengeti Road Plan
Deepens
, Bus. Daily, October 7, 2010, http://www.businessdailyafrica.com/Corporate+News/

Controversy+over+Serengeti+road+plan+deepens/-/539550/1027510/-/item/1/-/t4nj/-/index.html (last visited Apr. 9, 2011).

[104] Mara Conservancy, The Greatest Show on Earth, http://www.maratriangle.org/wildebeest-migration/ (last visited Apr. 9, 2011).

[105] See generally Ricardo M. Holdo et al., Opposing Rainfall and Plant Nutritional Gradients Best Explain the Wildebeest Migration in the Serengeti, 173 Am. Naturalist 431 (2009) (discussing wildebeest migration and its possible drivers, including seasonal rainfall and fertility gradients).

[106] A. R. E. Sinclair et al., Historical and Future Changes to the Serengeti Ecosystem, in Serengeti III: Human Impacts on Ecosystem Dynamics 7, 23–24 (A. R. E. Sinclair et al. eds., 2008).

[107] Id.

[108] World Travel & Tourism Council, Economic Data Search Tool, http://www.wttc.org/
eng/Tourism_Research/Economic_Data_Search_Tool/ (for Step 1 select “Countries” then “Sub-Saharan Africa” then “Kenya” and “Tanzania”; for Step 2 select “Travel & Tourism Total Contribution to GDP”; for Step 3 select “US$ bn” and “% share”; for Step 4 select “From 2000 to 2007”) (last visited Apr. 9, 2011).

[109] See Sinclair et al., supra note 106, at 9, 11.

[110] Simon Thirgood et al., Who Pays for Conservation? Current and Future Financing Scenarios for the Serengeti Ecosystem, in Serengeti III: Human Impacts on Ecosystem Dynamics, supra note 106, at 443, 448–51; Gettleman, supra note 103, at 6.

[111] Gettleman, supra note 103, at 6.

[112] Olivia Judson, Op-Ed., Road Kill in the Serengeti?, N.Y. Times Opinionator, Jun. 15, 2010, http://opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/06/15/road-kill-in-the-serengeti/ (last visited Apr. 9, 2011).

[113] Id.

[114] Andrew P. Dobson et al., Road Will Ruin Serengeti, 467 Nature 272, 272 (2010).

[115] Gettleman, supra note 103, at 6.

[116] Kipchumba Kemei, Gold Mining in the Mara, a Threat to Tourism-Experts, Standard (Kenya), Sept. 14, 2010, http://www.standardmedia.co.ke/InsidePage.php?id=2000018358&cid=4 (last visited Mar. 8, 2011).

[117] Gettleman, supra note 103, at 6.

[118] E.g., Zoologische Gesellschaft Frankfurt (Frankfurt Zoological Soc’y), The
Proposed Serengeti Commercial Road (Jun. 15, 2010), http://www.zgf.de/?id=61&language=en
&reportId=137 (last visited Apr. 9, 2011).

[119] See Rodney van der Ree et al., Overcoming the Barrier Effect of Roads–How Effective are Mitigation Strategies?, 2007 Proc. Int’l Conf. Ecology & Transp. 423, 424, 427 (C. Leroy Irwin et al. eds., 2007).

[120] See Dixit & Nalebuff, supra note 31, at 192–93 (discussing the advantages that threats offer in negotiations).

[121] See Barrett, supra note 12, at 33.

Twenty-five Years under the Convention on Migratory Species: Migration Conservation Lessons from Europe

Twenty-five Years under the Convention on Migratory Species: Migration Conservation Lessons from Europe

By

Elizabeth A. Baldwin*

Animal migrations frequently cross international boundaries, and conservation of migratory species requires the collaborative efforts of multiple nations. The Convention on Migratory Species (CMS) has overseen such conservation efforts for over twenty-five years by encouraging member Parties to conclude daughter agreements focused on protecting individual migratory species or groups of migratory species. In the past twenty-five years, CMS members have concluded twenty-six agreements that protect a wide range of migratory species. Many of these agreements provide targeted actions to offer immediate protection for critically endangered or threatened migratory species, but a handful are much broader in scope, providing protection for large classes of migratory species, regardless of endangerment status. This Article examines the structure of the CMS and its daughter agreements to identify key challenges for international migratory species protection, and draws on international environmental policy literature to identify potential strategies for overcoming these problems in future agreements.

I. Introduction

Several scholars are calling for the United States to increase and improve its efforts to protect migratory species.[1] At the heart of this call is the idea that migrations are more than the sum of individual migrants; rather, migrations are often “phenomena of abundance,” spectacles of nature with the power to inspire awe, fulfill important ecological purposes, and meet the unique needs of migratory species.[2]

As many of these scholars have noted, many migratory species are international travelers that do not confine their wanderings to a single jurisdiction.[3] This makes protection of migratory species particularly difficult, since effective conservation efforts may require collaboration between entities that have concurrent jurisdiction over species’ breeding, feeding, stopover, and wintering habitats, as well as entities that regulate any commercial activities that pose threats to these migratory species.

The United States has limited experience in cooperating with other countries on migratory species protection. Under bilateral agreements with the United Kingdom, Mexico, and Russia, the United States has agreed to limit takings of certain migratory bird species,[4] but these agreements probably will not prompt the kind of comprehensive and collaborative conservation effort required to protect and maintain abundant migrations. The agreements also fall far short of protecting migrations as phenomena of abundance.

Outside the United States, however, 115 countries have ratified the Convention on Migratory Species (CMS), an international treaty devoted to protecting and maintaining migratory species’ populations, ranges, and habitats.[5] These countries have twenty-five years’ worth of experience in international negotiation and implementation of migratory species conservation agreements. An examination of the CMS and its daughter agreements shows that, while international migratory species protection is always challenging, predictable patterns can identify protection efforts that are most likely to succeed. The circumstances of a migration, the nature of the threats to the migration, and the motivations and resources of the parties involved all play a role in determining the effectiveness of a migratory species conservation agreement.

This Article examines the CMS and its daughter agreements to identify lessons for cross-boundary efforts to protect migrations as phenomena of abundance. Part II describes the basic structure and function of the CMS and assesses its suitability as a vehicle for protecting abundant migrations. Part III describes two CMS daughter agreements in greater detail to illustrate the range of CMS agreements and conservation approaches. Part IV identifies common difficulties in migratory species protection and draws on past strategies under the CMS to identify possible strategies to address these problems.

II. The Convention on Migratory Species and Its Daughter Agreements

The CMS is an international environmental agreement that encourages nations to take action to conserve migratory species.[6] The primary function of the CMS is to encourage both Parties and non-member states to conclude daughter agreements that will protect specific migratory species or groups of migratory species.[7] Negotiated in 1979, 115 countries have ratified the CMS, and over thirty non-Parties participate in one or more daughter agreements under the CMS.[8] The CMS and its daughter agreements have been important in stabilizing population levels of migratory species such as the Wadden Sea Seal (Phoca vitulina vitulina and Helichoerus grypus)[9] and the Bukhara Deer (Cervus elaphus bactrianus),[10] as well as directing resources toward reducing threats and conserving habitat for a wide range of other migratory species.

The CMS is not the only international agreement that addresses conservation of migratory species. Numerous other multilateral and bilateral agreements seek to conserve migratory species, regulate the management and use of migratory species stocks, or protect migratory species habitat.[11] Most of these agreements focus on particular types of migratory species: commercially valuable fish, marine mammals, and birds.[12] The CMS is unique among these agreements because it is not limited in either scope or geography; the CMS includes terrestrial, aquatic, and avian species and is worldwide in its coverage.[13]

This Part describes the CMS, with particular focus on how the CMS has balanced the need to protect endangered migratory species with the need to protect migratory species as phenomena of abundance.[14] Part II.A describes the basic structure and function of the CMS. Part II.B examines the way the CMS balances the need to maximize participation by key Range States[15] with the need to maximize the stringency and effectiveness of daughter agreements. Another conflict, addressed in Part II.C, is the tension between protecting endangered species and the need to prevent non-endangered migratory species from becoming endangered. Part II.D examines a related concept in greater detail—the need to protect migratory species as a phenomenon of abundance.

A. CMS Structure and Function

The CMS identifies two overlapping categories of migratory species. Species that are endangered[16] are listed in Appendix I of the CMS, and all CMS Parties must provide certain protections to these species.[17] Parties must prohibit most takings of Appendix I species,[18] and “shall endeavor”[19] to conserve and restore habitats, remove or minimize barriers, and prevent or control for factors that might further endanger these species, such as the introduction of invasive species.[20]

Species that have “unfavourable conservation status” and “which require international agreements for their conservation and management” are listed in Appendix II of the CMS.[21] Parties are urged to conclude daughter agreements to restore these species to favorable conservation status,[22] but they are not bound to prohibit all takes. “Unfavourable” conservation status is based on four factors: population viability, long-term availability of adequate migratory range, long-term availability of adequate habitat, and the extent of population distribution and abundance.[23] Based on these factors, many migratory species are eligible for protection under CMS daughter agreements.[24]

The scope and coverage of daughter agreements is guided to a large extent by the motivations and interests of the Parties. While the CMS Scientific Council[25] recommends species for listing in the Appendices, the Parties have sole authority to determine which species will be the subject of daughter agreements. The only guidance provided by the CMS is that Parties should “give priority to those species in an unfavourable conservation status.”[26] Similarly, the Range States to a daughter agreement are in the driver’s seat in determining the nature of the agreement, including whether the agreement will be binding or informal, what kind of protections will be encouraged or required, and the stringency of those protections.[27] The CMS provides limited guidance by only identifying important elements that should be part of agreements.[28] The details of the agreements, however, are entirely up to the Parties.[29]

Initially, most CMS Parties were from Europe and North Africa and the CMS focused primarily on European migratory species.[30] Over time, the geographic scope of CMS activities expanded to include several species that migrate through Africa, Central Asia, and the Middle East.[31] Between 2007 and 2010, ten new daughter agreements were adopted under the CMS.[32] Several of these agreements focus on species that migrate through developing countries, including Pacific island states and countries in South America.[33]

The purpose of the CMS is not limited to creating new agreements. The CMS also includes a Scientific Council that oversees and coordinates migratory species research, identifies migratory species in need of protection, and recommends conservation actions.[34] The CMS Secretariat coordinates CMS meetings and activities, distributes resources for conservation projects, and maintains institutional memory about migratory species needs, conservation approaches, successes and failures.[35]

B. Balancing the Competing Needs for Participation and Stringency

Participation by key states is important to all international environmental agreements. Effective migratory species conservation requires participation by Parties with jurisdiction over key habitat (e.g., stopover sites, food sources) or barriers to migration. The importance of participation is driven to some extent by the needs of individual species. Some migratory species rely on habitat under the jurisdiction of more than one country.[36] For these species, an effective agreement requires participation by multiple nations to ensure that sufficient habitat is protected. Depending on the species’s geographical range, its vulnerability to threats, and its habitat and food requirements, a large number of Parties may be needed for a conservation effort to be successful.

However, including more participants to an agreement tends to increase the difficulty of imposing stringent requirements on members.[37] This problem arises from the basic nature of international negotiations: each country is a sovereign that cannot be compelled to enter into international agreements. Moreover, different countries may vary in their willingness to commit to different actions. To conclude an agreement among different nations, treaty negotiators must generally either limit the types of actions required so that all countries will accept the treaty terms, or limit the number of participants so that participating countries will accept more difficult terms.

The CMS balances the interests of different nations with a framework convention approach, in which the CMS itself establishes shared goals and values, and the actual work of the CMS is implemented in subsequent agreements between smaller groups of Parties.[38] The CMS encourages widespread participation by imposing very few substantive obligations on its members. Countries must commit to prohibiting takes of Appendix I species, but even this provision has exceptions.[39] Unlike some international environmental treaties, the CMS does not include stringent monitoring, compliance, or enforcement mechanisms.[40] Instead, the CMS urges Parties to conclude daughter agreements and provides guidance about the provisions that should be included.[41]

These daughter agreements, in turn, may contain stringent requirements to the degree that Parties are willing to be bound by them. While it would be preferable from a conservation standpoint for all Parties to be bound to stringent conservation requirements, the CMS approach is a pragmatic way to balance the need for Range State participation with the need for rigorous and binding protections. The lack of stringent requirements encourages all Parties to participate in negotiations and share information while promoting species-specific agreements in which willing parties may agree to more stringent provisions.

The CMS includes another layer of flexibility by encouraging three different types of daughter agreements: AGREEMENTS, Memoranda of Understanding, and informal action plans. AGREEMENTS[42] under the CMS are formal treaties between two or more parties, and the provisions of each AGREEMENT are legally binding under international law.[43] Seven AGREEMENTS have been concluded since the CMS went into effect.[44]

The CMS also encourages Parties to enter into nonbinding agreements that include formal Memoranda of Understanding (MOUs) and informal action plans.[45] These less formal agreements provide immediate, short-term protections for migrants, often including critically endangered species.[46] The first two MOUs provide protection for Siberian Cranes (Grus leucogeranus) and Slender-billed Curlews (Numenius tenuirostris), both listed as “critically endangered” on the IUCN red list.[47] MOUs and action plans can be replaced with long-term, formal AGREEMENTS at the Parties’ discretion.[48] Most MOUs and action plans have not been replaced by formal AGREEMENTS, however, and many Parties appear to prefer to enter into less formal agreements. Since 2000, CMS Parties have entered into only two AGREEMENTS but have concluded sixteen MOUs.[49]

While MOUs are not legally binding, this does not mean that they are ineffective. MOUs can be politically binding,[50] and may be useful tools to encourage participation among Parties that have national sovereignty or domestic concerns about being bound to the terms of a treaty. They can also be effective in situations where coordination is more important than coercion—for example, where the necessary conservation activities do not interfere with economic activities, but where coordination of research and monitoring is necessary.

While these different instruments provide a much-needed degree of flexibility for protecting migratory species in the international context, they also invite problems. When species protection requires the imposition of new laws and regulations, a nonbinding MOU may not ensure that domestic regulations meet the provisions of the agreement. MOUs can also reduce certainty about whether parties will continue to fully participate in the future, and allow parties to avoid committing resources to the CMS and its daughter agreements. Additionally, lack of funding is a significant problem that severely constrains the ability of the CMS to protect migratory species.[51]

C. Balancing the Need to Protect Endangered Migrants with the Need to Prevent Migratory Species Endangerment

A recurring source of tension in the CMS is the need to protect endangered migratory species and the need to protect and maintain abundant migratory species so that they do not become endangered.[52] Two of the CMS’s “Fundamental Principles” address this tension directly. The first Principle “acknowledge[s] the importance of migratory species being conserved . . . paying special attention to migratory species the conservation status of which is unfavourable,”[53] while the second Principle acknowledges “the need to take action to avoid any migratory species becoming endangered.”[54]

The initial CMS negotiations reflected this tension when Parties needed to determine whether the treaty would adopt the “shared resource” concept.[55] At that time, the shared resource concept challenged the traditional principle that nation-states have the exclusive right to exploit natural resources within their own borders.[56] The shared resource concept suggested that nations’ sovereign right to exploit migratory animals is limited because nations share these animals.[57]

Delegations promoting the shared resource concept—including the African delegation—wanted the CMS to focus on the interjurisdictional nature of migration.[58] According to this view, the purpose of the treaty would be to establish international norms and guidelines for the use, management, and conservation of migratory species.[59] Other delegations, however, wanted to limit the CMS to focus exclusively on endangered species, avoiding the question of how migratory species should be appropriately shared as a resource among nations.[60] Still others wanted to exclude migratory species that were the subject of other international agreements, such as marine species or Arctic species.[61]

Ultimately, the text of the CMS strikes a balance between the more inclusive shared resource view and the narrower focus on endangered migratory species. The Preamble to the CMS recognizes that “wild animals in their innumerable forms are an irreplaceable part of the earth’s natural system which must be conserved for the good of mankind,”[62] and the CMS applies to all migratory species that cross national boundaries, whether or not they are endangered.[63] Parties are free to conclude agreements on any migratory species, although they “shall endeavour” to conclude AGREEMENTS on species with unfavorable conservation status.[64]

Despite this aspirational language, however, the daughter agreements under the CMS have focused primarily on endangered species.[65] The CMS text provides minimal guidance about which species should be conserved, although it encourages Parties to conclude daughter agreements to protect Appendix II species with unfavorable conservation status.[66] In theory, this could mean that the CMS daughter agreements would focus on species that face current or future threats but not imminent risk of extinction. In practice, however, the majority of CMS daughter agreements have focused on species that are endangered or have recently experienced sharp declines in population.[67]

Two types of daughter agreements have been concluded under the CMS. A majority of the agreements focus on one or two critically endangered species.[68] However, a minority of agreements seek to protect larger classes of migratory species, typically either birds or marine mammals.[69] The migratory species in these agreements are usually selected because they have similar conservation needs and face similar threats.[70] The species covered by these agreements may have widely varying conservation statuses, with some species facing extinction and others with robust populations.[71]

D. Using the CMS to Protect Migration as a Phenomenon of Abundance

In 2009, Professors Robert Fischman and Jeffrey Hyman proposed that greater efforts should be made to protect migratory species as phenomena of abundance.[72] Fischman and Hyman argue that the dominant focus on endangered species promotes an “emergency room” approach to biodiversity conservation.[73] Drawing on a growing body of literature that promotes an inclusive approach to biodiversity, they argue that abundant migrations are an important aspect of biodiversity.[74]

Fischman and Hyman propose a “Migration Protection Model” (MPM) that would devote resources to maintaining and restoring migrations at high levels of abundance.[75] An approach to migratory species conservation based on the MPM would resolve at least some of the tension between protecting endangered species and preventing other migratory species from becoming endangered. The MPM identifies different threshold levels of population abundance and applies different conservation regimes to migrations based on these levels.[76]

Under the MPM, any migration that falls below an upper benchmark abundance level[77] would be eligible for some basic protections designed to maintain the migration and prevent further declines in key habitat.[78] Any migration that falls below ecological viability[79] would be eligible for a more protective conservation regime that seeks to restore population abundance.[80] By dividing conservation regimes in this way, the MPM recognizes that some portion of resources should be devoted to preventing abundant migrations from becoming endangered.

One of the key differences between the MPM and the CMS approach is that the MPM focuses on protecting migration itself, rather than simply protecting the migratory species.[81] By the time a species becomes endangered, migration may no longer be ecologically viable because it needs a large number of participants to be sustainable.[82] By focusing on migration itself, the MPM provides a more protective standard. It also explicitly recognizes that migration is an important aspect of biodiversity. This focuses attention on the role of migration within an ecosystem, and recognizes that species endangerment is not the only threat. The loss of migration phenomena may also directly affect biodiversity.[83]

The CMS and the MPM share a basic framework. Both create categories of migratory species and apply different conservation regimes to each group of species, with the most stringent protections triggered automatically for species identified as “endangered.”[84] The two approaches categorize migratory species in different ways, however. In the MPM, migrations are categorized by population abundance, with a more stringent level of protection triggered when the migration falls below a critical threshold of population abundance.[85] The CMS, in contrast, categorizes migratory species by conservation status, with one Appendix reserved for endangered species and another for species with unfavourable conservation status.[86]

Unlike the MPM approach, under the CMS there is no clear demarcation between the two categories of species; a species can be listed on both Appendices.[87] As a result, both Appendix I and Appendix II species are eligible for essentially the same conservation regime; the chief difference is that Appendix I species are automatically protected by laws limiting takings.[88] As one would expect, many CMS agreements focus heavily on protecting endangered migrants or halting dramatic drops in migratory species populations.[89] Only a handful of agreements focus on entire classes of migratory species.[90]

Another difference is that the MPM focuses on protecting migrations, while the CMS focuses on protecting migratory species.[91] This is significant because it takes many individuals to sustain a migration; as a result, a migration may become “endangered”—that is, no longer ecologically viable—long before the species itself faces extinction.[92] The CMS approach, in contrast, applies the most stringent protections against takings when the species itself faces extinction, at which point the migration could have diminished or disappeared entirely.[93]

The CMS also differs from the MPM because it does not include guidelines that prioritize conservation actions.[94] The CMS Scientific Council is responsible for setting the research agenda, recommending additions to the Appendices, and recommending measures to be included in agreements.[95] The CMS does not provide any suggestions, however, about how actions and resources should be prioritized between different species, habitats, and activities. Instead, the Parties themselves prioritize actions and resources. As a result, a series of agreements, MOUs, and action plans center almost exclusively on endangered and charismatic[96] migratory species—that is, the species for which Parties are most motivated to take conservation action.[97]

Despite these differences, the CMS is not an unreasonable mechanism for protecting migrations as phenomena of abundance, and in fact, there are several indications that as the CMS matures, Parties will make additional efforts to protect and restore abundant migrations. The goal of each CMS AGREEMENT is “to restore the migratory species concerned to a favourable conservation status or to maintain it in such a status.”[98] Favorable conservation status requires population distribution and abundance at historic levels, “to the extent that potentially suitable ecosystems exist and to the extent consistent with wise wildlife management.”[99] This means that the goals of AGREEMENTS are generally consistent with the MPM’s objective of protecting migrations as phenomena of abundance.[100]

The experience of the CMS and its daughter agreements suggest that the MPM approach to migratory species conservation could be viable in the United States and beyond. In fact, at least one CMS daughter agreement, the Africa-Eurasian Waterbird Agreement (AEWA), is similar enough to the MPM to provide a useful illustration of how the MPM might work internationally.[101] Although the AEWA focuses on migratory species, rather than on the phenomenon of migration, it nonetheless shares key features with the MPM. Like the MPM, the AEWA identifies different categories of migratory species, based in part on population abundance, and provides different conservation regimes to each category.[102] Both the AEWA and the MPM include provisions that protect endangered species from further decline, as well as maintain current levels of abundance for non-endangered species.[103]

The AEWA has developed innovative ways to meet the needs of both endangered and abundant migratory waterbirds. In its signature “Wings over Wetlands” project, the AEWA has adopted a “flyway approach” that seeks to protect ecologically valuable habitat along the entire Africa-Eurasian migratory corridor.[104] The project has developed web-based tools to prioritize habitat conservation actions based on the ecological value to multiple waterbird species.[105] Perhaps most important, the AEWA has become a focal point for research, funding, education, and conservation actions that support migrations throughout the entire Africa-Eurasian corridor.[106] While the AEWA is one example of how the MPM might be implemented, it highlights the potential of the MPM approach and shows that when attention is shifted away from endangered species, it becomes possible to conserve important habitat at large scales to benefit a broad range of migratory species.

III. Agreements Under the CMS

Seven AGREEMENTS and nineteen MOUs have been concluded under the CMS.[107] An examination of these agreements shows both the potential and the limitations of the CMS approach. These migratory species protection agreements involve over 140 nations, including nations that are not Parties to the CMS.[108] CMS daughter agreements have directed attention, scientific research, conservation legislation, and habitat acquisition toward the needs of migratory species.[109] The range of agreements shows that the CMS is potentially useful both at preventing extinction of migratory species and at maintaining existing abundant migrations. They also show, however, that migration protection is a significant challenge, and that even under the best of circumstances, successful migration protection requires a significant amount of scientific information, Party motivation, and access to financial resources.[110]

This Part summarizes two agreements for the purpose of illustrating the range of approaches that have been taken under CMS daughter agreements. The Wadden Sea Seal Agreement[111] is an example of a successful AGREEMENT concluded under relatively auspicious circumstances: the threat to the seal was clearly identified and understood; the Range States are few in number and all highly motivated and capable of providing stringent protections; and the sea seal population has improved significantly.[112] The African-Eurasian Waterbird Agreement (AEWA), in contrast, addresses 255 bird species, 118 Range States, and 63 Parties.[113] While the AEWA has had mixed success in restoring bird populations, it shows the approaches that are available when dealing with many different species and a large number of Range States.

A. The Wadden Sea Seal Agreement

In 1988, seals in the Wadden Sea declined to perilously low populations due to mass deaths from the phocine distemper virus.[114] In 1990, the governments of Germany, Denmark, and the Netherlands concluded the first agreement under the CMS.[115] The Agreement rests on the conceptual foundation that Wadden sea seals are indicators of the sea’s ecological conditions and should be protected because they are an irreplaceable component of the Wadden Sea ecosystem.[116] The Agreement covers only the Common Seal (Phoca vitulina vitulina), although later action plans have been extended to include breeding stocks of Gray Seals (Helichoerus grypus) in the Wadden Sea.[117]

The goal of the Agreement is to achieve and maintain a “favorable conservation status for the seal population.”[118] The Agreement establishes a conservation regime that requires Parties to develop a joint management plan, coordinate research and monitoring, create a network of protected areas, identify pollution-related risks to the seals, designate responsible authorities, and spread public awareness of the seal problem.[119] Parties are required to enact restrictions on takings of seals and must meet common standards on national warden systems to police illegal takings.[120] They are required to assess the habitat needs of the seals and install reserves and protected areas as needed to meet seals’ breeding and foraging needs.[121] They also must coordinate efforts to regulate activities that disturb seals, such as recreational excursions into seal habitat during whelping and lactation periods and dumping of dredged materials into seal habitat.[122] Coordination of research and monitoring activities is also required.[123]

The Wadden Sea Seal Agreement is an example of one of the more effective daughter agreements. The Agreement has only three Parties, all of which border the Wadden Sea.[124] Because the Agreement is small, the Parties have been able to commit to several binding activities.[125] Their close proximity to each other also allows each state to observe other states’ compliance measures and limits any individual nation’s incentive to avoid taking action. Also, the three countries share a cultural norm of environmental protection and possess sufficient administrative and financial resources to implement the Agreement.[126]

The Agreement has increased the seal populations significantly. Common seal populations, estimated at less than 5000 in 1989, have more than quadrupled since the Agreement was concluded.[127] Despite another outbreak of phocine distemper in 2002, the 2009 harbor seal population was over 20,000[128]—which is within the historical range for the seal population.[129]

B. The African-Eurasian Waterbird Agreement

The African-Eurasian Waterbird Agreement (AEWA) differs from the Wadden Sea Seal Agreement in a few fundamental ways. Unlike the Wadden Sea Seal Agreement, which focuses on a single species, the AEWA covers all migratory waterbirds in the Agreement Area, which stretches from the northern reaches of Canada and the Russian Federation to the southernmost tip of Africa.[130] With sixty-three Parties, AEWA is the largest Agreement to be concluded under the CMS.[131] The AEWA also rests on a different conceptual foundation than the Wadden Sea Seal Agreement: its Preamble hints at the shared resource concept,[132] and the 2009–2017 Strategic Plan explicitly states that the AEWA relies on the shared resource concept.[133]

These conceptual foundations are reflected in the provisions of the Agreement, which seeks to “maintain or to restore migratory waterbird species and their populations at a favorable conservation status throughout their flyways,” regardless of population abundance or endangerment status.[134] Under one of the provisions protecting all migratory waterbirds, Parties can only use the birds in a way that is sustainable and ecologically viable.[135] The Preamble also anticipates future threats to waterbird migrations, noting that waterbirds are dependent on rapidly degrading wetlands corridors.[136]

The conservation regime of the AEWA resembles the MPM in several ways. It divides species into three main categories and several subcategories, based on population abundance and risk of population decline.[137] Column A species, which are most at risk, are subject to the basic conservation regime for endangered species under the CMS.[138] The AEWA further instructs Parties to develop and implement single species action plans for endangered Column A species, and to endeavor to establish and maintain wetlands and other habitats for endangered migratory bird species.[139] Parties are also required to implement restrictions on hunting and to endeavor to minimize other human disturbances of endangered migratory bird species.[140] AEWA’s general conservation measures include sustainable use, coordinated efforts to maintain or re-establish a network of suitable habitats throughout each species’s range, investigation and remediation of problems, prohibition on introduction of non-native waterbirds, and coordinated research, monitoring, education, and implementation.[141]

Compliance under the AEWA differs significantly from the Wadden Sea Seal Agreement. AEWA’s large number of Parties limits the Agreement’s ability to impose stringent requirements on all Parties.[142] Moreover, with sixty-three Parties on three continents, monitoring and enforcing compliance poses logistical challenges and would require resources that might be better spent assisting developing country Parties in Africa and Asia with compliance.[143] For these reasons, AEWA’s approach to implementation focuses on a strategic plan with goals, objectives, targets, and indicators.[144] Individual nations, the AEWA Secretariat, conservation NGOs, and other actors cooperate to achieve the goals and objectives identified in the Strategic Plan.[145] Some objectives focus specifically on endangered species, while others apply to migratory birds generally.[146] Objectives include a wide range of coordinated legal reforms, restrictions on hunting activities and land uses in waterbird habitats, and coordination on education, training, research, and monitoring activities.[147] The AEWA Secretariat coordinates activities, shares information, tracks waterbird populations, provides technical information, updates and publishes AEWA action plans, and develops the AEWA Strategic Plan.[148]

The AEWA faces challenges. Only sixty-three of the AEWA’s 118 Range States are Parties to the Agreement.[149] Moreover, many of those sixty-three countries have limited capacity to implement and enforce the protective legislation required for highly endangered species.[150] In addition, the Agreement requires a significant amount of information to be effective, including both extensive information about the migratory behaviors and needs of all 255 covered species[151] as well as information-sharing tools that are useful to Parties.[152]

Despite these challenges, the AEWA has achieved some significant successes. One of the AEWA’s largest and most ambitious projects, Wings over Wetlands, launched a flyway-scale conservation initiative that includes Africa, Europe, the Middle East, Central Asia, Greenland and the Canadian Archipelago.[153] The four-year Wings over Wetlands project produced AEWA’s Critical Site Network Tool, a web-based resource that provides information about migratory waterbirds’ routes and habitat needs, and allows decision-makers to prioritize habitat conservation efforts that meets migrants’ needs.[154] The Wings over Wetlands project also established eleven demonstration projects that conserve important migratory waterbird habitat from Estonia to South Africa.[155] The project received $6,000,000 in funding from the United Nations Global Environmental Facility for its first four years of operation.[156]

IV. Lessons for International Implementation

This Part identifies useful lessons from the preceding review of the CMS and its daughter agreements. Part IV.A identifies gaps in migratory species protection, first identifying migrations that are not covered by the CMS or other regimes, and then identifying migrations that are not sufficiently protected by these regimes. These un- and under-protected migrations are potential targets for additional resources from the international community. Part IV.B identifies lessons from the CMS experience that could guide future daughter agreements under the CMS, bilateral or multilateral agreements outside the CMS, or revisions to existing agreements.

A. Gaps in Coverage

The cursory overview of international migratory species protection in this Article shows that the CMS, its daughter agreements, and other international regimes have had mixed success in protecting migratory species.[157] Outside the CMS, other international agreements provide some protection for migratory species, but there are often gaps in coverage, and some of these existing agreements are not sufficiently protective of species to prevent rapid population declines.[158] Within the CMS, agreements are split between those that focus on species that face extinction or have recently experienced rapid population declines, and those that include a wide range of endangered and non-endangered migrants.[159]

The existing agreements, both inside and outside the CMS, leave gaps in coverage of migratory species. Species that are non-endangered, non-charismatic, or have no commercial value are rarely protected by any agreement. This includes, for example, the migration of the wildebeest (Connochaetes gnou and Connochaetes taurinus) and zebra (Equus quagga)—incredible phenomena of abundance that face threats from poaching and development, but that are not covered under current agreements.[160] There are geographic disparities as well; migratory species whose range includes part of Europe are more likely to be protected than other species, although this may change as American and Asian countries increase their participation in the CMS. These taxonomic and geographic gaps in coverage are likely starting places for new energy, efforts, and resources aimed at conserving migrations.

Even where agreements provide some level of protection to migratory species, their effectiveness is mixed. The CMS Agreements have had a positive effect on some species, particularly under Agreements that have been in effect for several years. For example, populations have stabilized or increased for Wadden Sea seals,[161]  Bukhara Deer,[162] and some species of albatrosses and petrels.[163]

For other species, the Agreements and MOUs were enacted too recently to determine whether or not the covered species will benefit significantly from the protections.[164] Several agreements have been concluded since 2007.[165] The effects of these agreements are not yet known, although past experience suggests that agreements that have small numbers of moderately capable and motivated participants will be the most successful.[166] Other Agreements have not yet achieved stable migratory species population levels even after several years. The Agreement on the Conservation of Cetaceans of the Black Sea, Mediterranean Sea and Contiguous Atlantic Area (ACCOBAMS), for example, shows that progress can be slow where there are large numbers of participants and little scientific information on the migratory behavior.[167] Similarly, the African turtle MOU demonstrates that progress can be slow where participants lack sufficient resources to devote to organizing MOU activities, scientific research, and implementing conservation actions.[168] Agreements with large numbers of participants, participants that lack capacity to fund and enforce measures, or migratory species whose habits are largely unknown are less likely to succeed (or may take longer before improvements begin to occur).[169]

It is noteworthy that many of the agreements that have the greatest potential for protecting migrations as phenomena of abundance under the CMS have been the slowest to achieve success.[170] Agreements that focus on one or two endangered species, such as the Wadden Sea Seal Agreement, tend to be smaller in geographic scope in the number of Range States involved as compared to agreements such as the AEWA that seek to protect broader classes of migrants and are therefore more suitable for protecting abundant migrations.[171]

Both of these factors, geographic range and number of Range States involved, present barriers to success. Agreements that cover larger geographic areas need to be supported by more research and monitoring about population levels, habitat needs, current conditions, and future threats. Similarly, Agreements that include more Parties are less likely to commit to taking stringent actions.[172] These problems can be compounded for large CMS daughter agreements, such as AEWA, that have high proportions of Least Developed Countries (LDC) Parties with limited capabilities to implement conservation policies.[173] These factors suggest that protecting migrations as phenomena of abundance on an international scale will be challenging. They also suggest that these Agreements are ideal candidates for additional funding from the international community—both because the phenomena of migration is of interest beyond national borders, and because these agreements are less likely to succeed if they must depend solely on the resources contributed by Range State parties.

B. Lessons for Design and Redesign of Agreements

A survey of the CMS Agreements, MOUs, and action plans reveals that certain challenges occur and recur in migratory species agreements. This Part discusses a few ideas that might be applied to new agreements, or used in redesigning existing agreements.

1. Low Participation

At least ten of the CMS Agreements and MOUs have low rates of participation by Range States.[174] Low rates of participation are problematic for migratory species agreements, since, for example, the efforts of one Range State to preserve wintering habitat may be undermined if another Range State does not make similar efforts to protect breeding habitat. Insufficient participation will be particularly problematic under three circumstances. First, if there is insufficient information about migratory behaviors, lack of participation will make collaboration on research and monitoring more difficult.[175] This can undermine the entire agreement, since adequate scientific information about population abundance, key habitat, and migratory behaviors are all crucial precursors to successful conservation efforts to protect migratory species.[176]

Second, low participation will be particularly problematic where species have very specific habitat needs, and these habitats are located exclusively within the jurisdiction of non-participating nations.[177] Conversely, low participation may not be a significant problem for species whose habitat needs are less specific; for these species, participating nations may be able to protect and restore sufficient habitat to meet these species’ needs.[178]

Finally, low participation can be a problem where commercial activities have a heavy impact on migrants—for example, where species are directly hunted or are killed as by-catch from commercial fisheries. For these species, protection may require laws regulating the harmful commercial activity.[179] If enough Parties refuse to participate—and thus do not enact and enforce the necessary regulations—the success of any agreement will be undermined.

A useful approach in international environmental law is to minimize the requirements of the agreement, at least in the near term.[180] This approach is taken by the CMS, which avoids placing stringent requirements on Parties to the framework convention, and instead encourages Parties to include stringent requirements in their AGREEMENTS.[181] Parties have developed a similar approach by opting to conclude MOUs more often than AGREEMENTS.[182] While MOUs under the CMS may encourage Parties to take stringent actions, MOUs are not legally binding, and countries are free to limit the amount of resources they will devote to implementing MOUs. Minimizing the requirements of an agreement to increase participation may be useful where the key needs are research collaboration or access to particular habitat, since these needs can be met without stringent regulatory requirements. However, where threats to species are known and best addressed through stringent restrictions on behaviors,[183] an agreement that does not impose requirements on members may be ineffective.

If an effective agreement requires stringent regulations but participation is still low, it may be possible to use side payments or issue linkage to induce participation. Side payments are direct or indirect payments in exchange for a country’s participation.[184] In common pool resource agreements, for example, a side payment could include a generous allocation of allowed harvest. Side payments can also include direct financial transfers, provision of in-kind resources, such as training or technology transfer, or funding for habitat conservation or restoration.[185] This type of direct side payment can be highly effective at inducing participation, but it works only if countries have varying motivation and resources, and at least one Party is able and willing to make the side payment.[186] Where species are commercially harvested or otherwise provide economic benefits, such as ecotourism, side payments may be a viable option.[187] Where species do not provide economic benefits, side payments are less likely to come from specific Parties; however, non-Party participants, like NGOs, may be motivated and have sufficient funding to provide side payments.[188]

A final, albeit slow, way to increase participation is to increase education and awareness about the needs of migratory species. Parties’ participation will increase when they better understand the risks of non-action and the benefits of cooperation. Several CMS daughter agreements have made education a major component of their conservation plans. The Eurobats AGREEMENT, for example, has educated member states and the public about bats through events like the “European Bat Night.”[189] Such efforts have helped to reduce the public’s perception of bats as frightening or disease-bearing, and help the public and member states to learn about bats’ positive role in the ecosystem.[190]

2. Insufficient Knowledge About Migratory Habitat and Behaviors

Several CMS daughter agreements suffer from a lack of scientific knowledge about a species or its migration. For example, a lack of information about threats to cetaceans in the Black and Mediterranean Seas has left Parties to the Agreement on the Conservation of Cetaceans of the Black Sea, Mediterranean Sea and Contiguous Atlantic Area (ACCOBAMS) with limited ability to develop policy solutions that adequately address the most pressing threats.[191] Lack of scientific information about a species or its migration can also be a problem for species whose movements are elusive or live in remote areas. The notoriously shy Slender-billed Curlew’s Siberian nesting sites, for example, remain undiscovered despite efforts funded by the CMS, the AEWA, and the European Union’s “LIFE Programme.”[192] This problem is compounded for endangered species, whose low population numbers make them even more difficult to find and study.[193]

Effectively protecting a migratory species may require an understanding of the connections between wintering, nesting, and breeding habitats. To illustrate, consider the American Redstart (Setophaga ruticilla), a migratory bird that breeds in the eastern United States and winters in Mexico, South America, and Central America.[194] Research shows that redstarts that winter in wetter climates tend to produce more young during the next breeding season.[195] The stability of redstart populations, then, depends upon availability of wet-climate wintering habitat as well as the availability of breeding habitat.[196] Because of these intimate connections between different stages of the migratory journey, effective conservation measures require an understanding of a migrants’ particular needs, threats, and causes of population decline.

Multilateral or bilateral environmental agreements that face significant knowledge gaps tend to focus on improving their understanding of the problem before developing particular policy approaches. A classic example is the Montreal Protocol.[197] During initial negotiations on the ozone convention, the scientific basis for the ozone problem was poorly understood, and the Parties failed to agree on a single policy approach to address the problem, although they agreed to coordinate research and atmospheric monitoring.[198] The policy framework of the Montreal Protocol was not adopted until after the Parties developed a better understanding about the causes and consequences of ozone layer depletion.[199]

In the context of migratory species protection, lack of scientific information can similarly limit or delay an adequate policy response.[200] Where a species’s habits, migratory behaviors, and threats are poorly understood, a multilateral or bilateral agreement needs to focus on increasing and sharing scientific information. In some cases, simply collaborating on research and monitoring will be enough to provide a basis for conservation actions. In other cases, additional funding and resources may be needed. Where scientific research needs are significant, inclusion of local conservation organizations, NGOs, and international institutions can be one way to direct resources toward improved research and monitoring.

3. Stringency of Requirements

A key problem for several daughter agreements is that the requirements are not stringent enough to effectively protect the species.[201] This is a recurring problem with international environmental law, since nations are only bound to honor obligations that are undertaken voluntarily, but are hesitant to undertake obligations that may become politically or economically burdensome. Despite decades’ worth of collaboration and information exchange on international fisheries, for example, many fish populations are declining rapidly, at least in part because of some countries’ reluctance to enforce stringent restrictions on their domestic fishing industries.[202] It is also a problem for species that are harmed as by-catch from fishing industries, or whose habitats are deteriorating due to disturbance and pollution from agricultural activities or economic development, since these species are best protected by stringent regulations on the industries causing the harm.[203] The stringency problem will generally be more difficult to overcome when stringent regulations impose significant economic burdens on the affected industries, and easier to overcome when solutions are readily available or low-cost.[204]

Stringency of requirements can be addressed in several ways. In agreements on common pool resources, countries may submit to increased stringency where more strict measures are needed to protect the resource itself, and where monitoring activities are sufficient to ensure that all countries are complying with the enhanced requirements.[205] In other instances, the availability of funding to help industries meet the cost of compliance may be helpful.

A final way to encourage more stringent agreements is to reduce the amount of uncertainty about threats to migratory species and solutions to address those threats. Participants will be more likely to submit to stringent requirements when they are reasonably certain that doing so will have the intended results. Similarly, more information about the benefits of migration and migratory species may also encourage countries to take on more stringent regulations. This suggests that more research and information about ecosystem service benefits of migration will be helpful. Increased information about benefits of migration can also encourage the use of side payments as a strategy to induce more stringent participation.

4. Capacity to Implement and Enforce

Some agreements have sufficient participation, information, and stringency, but may be ineffective because key countries lack sufficient regulatory capacity to implement and enforce the appropriate conservation measures.[206] This is particularly a problem for agreements where a majority of participants are developing countries or LDCs, who not only have limited implementation and enforcement capacity, but who also have other pressing social and economic development issues that may be higher priorities than migratory species protection. The African marine turtle MOU illustrates this problem. The MOU has nearly universal participation by Range States, and most have enacted conservation legislation to protect the species in question.[207] Unfortunately, however, many have limited ability to enforce the existing regulations and to collaborate to ensure that enforcement is consistent across national boundaries.[208]

Countries’ capacity to implement regulations tends to improve over time as economic development increases.[209] In cases where species are not critically endangered, improving capacity slowly over time may be sufficient. Where the risks are particularly large and where species are on the brink of extinction, however, technical assistance, increased funding, and participation by NGOs can help to improve national capacity to implement and enforce agreements.

5. Funding

Funding is a problem for virtually all international environmental agreements, and the CMS and its daughter agreements are no exception. The problem is most acute where the gaps in scientific knowledge are greatest,[210] where the necessary conservation actions impose the greatest costs, and where the key Range States are unable or unmotivated to devote significant resources to conserving the migratory species.[211] Conversely, the problem is least acute where scientific needs are not significant, where similar measures can be taken to address multiple species at once, or where the species is highly charismatic and can attract funding from other sources.[212]

CMS daughter agreements address the funding problem in several ways. The CMS partners with other international environmental agreements, such as the Convention on Biodiversity[213] and the Ramsar Convention on Wetlands of International Importance,[214] to exchange information, coordinate conservation efforts, and take advantage of related funding streams.[215] Other agreements have acquired funding from outside sources to offset the economic burdens imposed by the conservation actions.[216] The CMS also allows countries that are not CMS members to participate in agreements;[217] this allows countries like the United States—not a member of the CMS—to provide resources to the Shark Action Plan.[218]

Some funding comes directly from Parties. When countries enter into a formal CMS AGREEMENT, they make a legally binding commitment to provide funding for the AGREEMENT.[219] Alternatively, the flexible approach that encourages participation also jeopardizes funding because the countries may not commit funds under MOUs, they may fail to deliver funds as promised, or they may provide funding in good economic times but not in economic downturns.

Insufficient funding is likely to remain a key problem for migratory species conservation agreements. Parties can address funding gaps by using and expanding on the strategies described above, as well as remaining alert to the possibility of new funding streams. As MOUs achieve successes, some Parties might be willing to conclude formal AGREEMENTS that would provide a stable source of funding.

The international environmental community can play an important role by identifying the types of agreements that are most likely to suffer from lack of funding, and targeting funding and other resources at those agreements. Agreements such as the African turtle MOU, for example, face significant scientific knowledge gaps and include a high percentage of LDC Parties. The international community can mobilize resources to meet these needs by providing direct funding as well as research and capacity-building assistance.

6. Assessing Tradeoffs in Agreement Design

As the above discussions illustrate, the tools that can be used to improve one aspect of agreement design can often undermine other aspects of agreement design. For example, participation can be increased when stringency is decreased, however, this can undermine the agreement’s effectiveness and reduce the availability of resources. The effectiveness of new or amended agreements can be improved by carefully examining the ecological, economic, and social circumstances of the migration so that the tradeoffs between different design elements can be weighed. This examination might start by identifying which of the needs identified above—participation, information, stringency, capacity, and funding—is most pressing in order to move forward with a conservation plan.

If basic scientific information is needed, for example, stringency may not be a pressing issue and participation may not be crucial, but the agreement will need participation by enough participants to muster the resources needed to engage in preliminary research. The charisma and endangerment status of the species may also be relevant here; species that are both highly charismatic and critically endangered will be able to muster greater resources from the NGO community, relieving the burden on participating states—but these NGOs must be invited to participate in the agreement. If basic scientific research is sufficient, but additional monitoring information is needed, participation by key Range States will be necessary, and the ecological nature of the migration will dictate whether all Range States are needed, or whether a smaller group of parties with jurisdiction over crucial habitat will suffice.

7. Addressing Intractable Tradeoffs Through Agreement Design

The most difficult tradeoffs will occur when the nature of the migration, its threats, and its solutions require a stringent agreement, a large number of Range States, and a high rate of participation. This will be even more difficult when the species in question does not directly provide any economic benefits that might motivate parties to take action to preserve the sustainability of benefits, or allow one party to make side payments to more reluctant holdouts. With more inherent tradeoffs, the agreement is more likely to have low participation, ineffective measures, and little impact on improving population abundance.

When the circumstances of the migration suggest that the tradeoffs may become intractable, it may be possible to identify elements of the problem that can be manipulated. For example, an agreement can focus on one or more migrants, or geographic parameters can limit the number of participants required. Other elements that can be manipulated include the amount of certainty about the costs of failing to protect the migration, certainty about the benefits of protecting the migration, the level of education and concern from the international community, and the capacity of key states to implement and enforce conservation actions. A seemingly intractable agreement might get new life from new information about a species’ needs that helps to reduce the costs of imposing new regulations. Alternately, parties might be motivated to take more stringent action when they are better informed about a species; an example of this is found in the Eurobats agreement, which took steps through its European Bat Night to change peoples’ negative opinions about bats and motivate them to protect these bats.

V. Conclusion

Migrations need greater international protection if they are to be maintained as phenomenon of abundance. The United States has an excellent opportunity to play a leading role in this effort, if it so chooses, by providing leadership and resources for greater collaborative efforts, particularly in the Americas, where countries have demonstrated increasing interest in convening agreements under the CMS. The resources that the United States could bring to bear to such efforts are tremendous and could overcome many of the recurring problems in international migratory species protection, such as low participation, lack of scientific knowledge, limited implementation capacity, and low levels of funding.

 



* J.D.-M.P.A. Candidate 2011, Indiana University Bloomington Maurer School of Law and Indiana University School for Public and Environmental Affairs. The author would like to thank Matthew Rowe, Rob Fischman, Jeff Hyman, and Bert Lenten for their valuable advice and useful suggestions.

[1] See generally Robert L. Fischman & Jeffrey B. Hyman, The Legal Challenge of Protecting Animal Migrations as Phenomena of Abundance, 28 Va. Envtl. L.J. 173, 175, 177–78 (2010); Jeffrey B. Hyman, Andrea Need & W. William Weeks, Statutory Reform to Protect Migrations as Phenomena of Abundance 41 Envtl. L. 407, 407 (2011); Vicky J. Meretsky, Jonathan W. Atwell & Jeffrey B. Hyman, Migration and Conservation: Frameworks, Gaps, and Synergies in Science, Law, and Management 41 Envtl. L. 447, 520–30 (2011).

[2] See Fishman & Hyman, supra note 1, at 175.

[3] See id. at 179 (explaining that migration protection often involves inter-jurisdictional challenges); Hyman, Need & Weeks, supra note 1, at 423–25 (highlighting the threats that migratory species face in light of their long-distance movements); Meretsky, Atwell & Hyman, supra note 1, at 460 (describing long-distance migrant birds “whose annual movements traverse continents, making journeys of many hundreds or thousands of kilometers”).

[4] The requirements of these agreements are implemented by the United States under the Migratory Bird Treaty Act, 16 U.S.C. §§ 703–712 (2006). The Secretary of the Interior is empowered to proscribe regulations regarding the taking of protected species in order to implement these treaties. Id. § 704.

[5] See generally Convention on the Conservation of Migratory Species of Wild Animals, June 23, 1979, 19 I.L.M. 15, 1651 U.N.T.S. 28,395; Convention on Migratory Species, Parties to the Convention on the Conservation of Migratory Species of Wild Animals and Its Agreements (2011), available at http://www.cms.int/about/Partylist_eng.pdf.

[6] The CMS defines “migratory species” as “the entire population or any geographically separate part of the population of any species . . . a significant proportion of whose members cyclically and predictably cross one or more national jurisdictional boundaries . . . .” Convention on the Conservation of Migratory Species of Wild Animals, supra note 5, art. I(1). This definition establishes clear legal boundaries that define eligibility for protection based on a species’ crossing of international borders and is highly inclusive, including species like the gorilla which regularly range across national boundaries and can benefit significantly from international protection. See Agreement on the Conservation of Gorillas and Their Habitats, Rep. of the Meeting to Negotiate an Agreement on the Conservation of Gorillas and Their Habitats Under the Convention on Migratory Species, Oct. 22–24, 2007, Annex 2, U.N. Doc. UNEP/CMS/GOR1/Report [hereinafter Gorilla MOU], available at http://www.cms.int/bodies/
meetings/regional/gorillas/pdf_docs/Gorilla_Agmt_Fin_E.pdf.

[7] Under CMS article V, “[e]ach AGREEMENT . . . should be open to accession by all Range States of that species, whether or not they are Parties to this Convention.” Convention on the Conservation of Migratory Species of Wild Animals, supra note 5, art. V(2); see also discussion infra Part II.A.

[8] See Convention on Migratory Species, supra note 5; Convention on Migratory Species, National Participation in the Convention on the Conservation of Migratory Species of Wild Animals and Its Agreements (2011), available at http://www.cms.int/
about/all_countries_eng.pdf.

[9] See discussion infra Part III.A; see also Convention on Migratory Species, Agreement on the Conservation of Seals in the Wadden Sea, http://www.cms.int/species/wadden_seals/
sea_bkrd.htm (last visited March 17, 2011).

[10] See Memorandum of Understanding Concerning Conservation and Restoration of the Bukhara Deer (Cervus elaphus bactrianus), May 16, 2002, B7 p. 979:55/K, available at http://www.cms.it/species/bukhara_deer/pdf/mou_e.pdf; Convention on Migratory Species, MOU Bukhara Deer, http://www.cms.int/species/bukhara_deer/bukhara_deer_intro.htm (last visited Mar. 15, 2011).

[11] See Inter-American Convention for the Protection and Conservation of Sea Turtles, Dec. 1, 1996, 2164 U.N.T.S. 29, available at http://www.iacseaturtle.org/English/download/Texto%
20CIT%20ENG.pdf (“The objective of the Convention is to promote the protection, conservation, and recovery of sea turtle populations . . . .”); Convention on the Conservation and Management of Highly Migratory Fish Stocks in the Western and Central Pacific Ocean, Sep. 5, 2000, 40 I.L.M. 278, available at http://www.wcpfc.int/system/files/documents/
convention-texts/text.pdf (“The objective of this Convention is to ensure, through effective management, the long-term conservation and sustainable use of highly migratory fish stocks in the western and central Pacific Ocean in accordance with the 1982 Convention and the Agreement.”); Migratory Bird Treaty Act, 16 U.S.C. § 703 (2006) (enforcing obligations for the protection and conservation of migratory birds pursuant to international treaties with the U.K., Japan, Russia, and Mexico).

[12] See Migratory Bird Treaty Act, 16 U.S.C. § 703 (2006); Convention on the Conservation and Management of Highly Migratory Fish Stocks in the Western and Central Pacific Ocean, supra note 11; Inter-American Convention for the Protection and Conservation of Sea Turtles, supra note 11.

[13] See Convention on Migratory Species, Introduction to the Convention on Migratory Species, http://www.cms.int/about/intro.htm (last visited Mar. 15, 2011).

[14] See discussion infra Part II.D.

[15] Range States are defined as “any State . . . that exercises jurisdiction over any part of the range of that migratory species, or a State, flag vessels of which are engaged outside national jurisdictional limits in taking that migratory species.” Convention on the Conservation of Migratory Species of Wild Animals, supra note 5, art. I(1)(h).

[16] Endangered species are “in danger of extinction throughout all or a significant portion of its range.” Id. art. I(1)(e).

[17] Id. arts. II, III(1).

[18] Id. art. III(5). Exceptions are allowed only where,

a) the taking is for scientific purposes;

b) the taking is for the purpose of enhancing the propagation or survival of the affected species;

c) the taking is to accommodate the needs of traditional subsistence users of such species; or

d) extraordinary circumstances so require;

provided that such exceptions are precise as to content and limited in space and time. Such taking should not operate to the disadvantage of the species.

Id.

[19] The use of terms like “shall endeavor” and “where feasible and appropriate” suggests that these provisions may lack the binding force of the requirement to prohibit takings. Indeed, it is not always clear what “shall endeavor” means in the context of the CMS, although an Australian court has ruled that the term binds Australia to take the identified action. Commonwealth v. Tasmania, (1983) 158 C.L.R. 1 (Austl.). The Convention does not, however, define the term “feasible and appropriate,” providing Parties with little guidance about the extent of their obligations toward endangered species. See Richard Caddell, International Law and the Protection of Migratory Wildlife: An Appraisal of Twenty-Five Years of the Bonn Convention, 16 Colo. J. Int’l Envtl. L. & Pol’y 113, 116–17 (2005).

[20] Convention on the Conservation of Migratory Species of Wild Animals, supra note 5, art. III(4).

[21] Id. art. IV(1)–(2). Appendix I and Appendix II are not mutually exclusive; many Appendix I species—or separate populations of Appendix I species—are also listed in Appendix II. Since most endangered species will by default have an “unfavourable conservation status,” most Appendix I species will also qualify for Appendix II listing, provided their range or migratory behavior requires international cooperation. See also id. art. III.

[22] Id. arts. IV(3)–(4), V(1).

[23] Conservation status is considered unfavorable when any one of the following conditions is not met:

(1) [P]opulation dynamics data indicate that the migratory species is maintaining itself on a long-term basis as a viable component of its ecosystems;

(2) the range of the migratory species is neither currently being reduced, nor is likely to be reduced, on a long-term basis;

(3) there is, and will be in the foreseeable future, sufficient habitat to maintain the population of the migratory species on a long-term basis; and

(4) the distribution and abundance of the migratory species approach historic coverage and levels to the extent that potentially suitable ecosystems exist and to the extent consistent with wise wildlife management.

Id. art. I(1)(C).

[24] Appendix II of the CMS lists over 250 species, subspecies, and entire taxa, all of which are eligible for protection under CMS daughter agreements. See id. Appendix II.

[25] See infra Part I.A.

[26] Convention on the Conservation of Migratory Species of Wild Animals, supra note 5, art. IV(3).

[27] See id. arts. V, VI.

[28] Id.

[29] See id.

[30] See Convention on Migratory Species, Agreement Summary Sheets 5–9 (2011), available at http://www.cms.int/pdf/en/summary_sheets/AgmtSumSheet_engl.pdf; Convention on Migratory Species, supra note 5 (indicating original parties with CMS Party No. 001).

[31] See generally Convention on Migratory Species, List of Range States of Migratory Species Included in the CMS Appendices (2011), available at http://www.cms.int/pdf/
en/CMS_Range_States_by_Species.pdf.

[32] Convention on Migratory Species, supra note 30, at 8, 15, 26, 28–34.

[33] See Memorandum of Understanding on the Conservation and Management of Dugongs (Dugong dugon) and Their Habitats Throughout Their Range, Rep. of the Technical Workshops and Meeting to Sign the Dugongs Memorandum of Understanding, 3d Sess., Oct. 28–31, 2007, Annex 8, U.N. Doc. UNEP/CMS/DUGONG/Report, available at http://www.cms.int/species/
dugong/pdf/Annex_08_Dugong_MoU.pdf; see also Memorandum of Understanding for the Conservation of Cetaceans and Their Habitats in the Pacific Islands Region, Sept. 15, 2006, U.N. Doc. UNEP/CMS/PIC-1/Inf/3 [hereinafter Pacific Islands Cetaceans MOU], available at http://www.cms.int/bodies/meetings/regional/pacific_cet/pdf/Inf_03_PacificCetaceans_MoU&AP.pdf; Memorandum of Understanding on the Conservation of Southern South American Migratory Grassland Bird Species and Their Habitats, Aug. 26, 2007, U.N. Doc. UNEP/CMS/GRB1/Inf.2 [hereinafter Grassland Birds MOU], available at http://www.cms.int/
species/Grassland_birds/MoU_Grassland_birds_with_sigs_with_Bolivia_E.pdf; Memorandum of Understanding Concerning the Conservation of Migratory Birds of Prey in Africa and Eurasia, Oct. 22, 2008, U.N. Doc. UNEP/CMS/AEBOP/2/6, available at http://www.cms.int/bodies/
meetings/regional/birdsofprey/Doc_06_MoU_BOP_FinalText_Ea.pdf; Memorandum of Understanding the Conservation of High Andean Flamingos and Their Habitats, Dec. 4, 2008, B7 p. 979:55/X, available at http://www.cms.int/species/flamingos/MoU_Andean_Flamingos_
english.pdf; Memorandum of Understanding on the Conservation of Migratory Sharks, Rep. of the Meeting, 3d Sess., Feb. 10–12, 2010, Annex 4, U.N. Doc. UNEP/CMS/MS3/REPORT, available at http://www.cms.int/species/sharks/MoU/Migratory_Shark_MoU_Eng.pdf; Memorandum of Understanding Between the Argentine Republic and the Republic of Chile on the Conservation of the South Andean Huemul, Arg.-Chile, Dec. 4, 2010, available at http://www.cms.int/
species/Huemul/MoU/MoU_Huemul_E.pdf.

[34] The CMS decision-making body, the Conference of the Parties (COP), is required to establish a Scientific Council that will provide scientific advice. See Convention on the Conservation of Migratory Species of Wild Animals, supra note 5, art. VIII(1). Individual Parties and the COP are both authorized to appoint qualified experts to the Scientific Council. Id. art. VIII(2). For a description of the Scientific Council’s duties and links to Council documents, see Convention on Migratory Species, CMS – Scientific Council, http://www.cms.int/bodies/
ScC_mainpage.htm (last visited Mar. 16, 2011).

[35] Convention on the Conservation of Migratory Species of Wild Animals, supra note 5, art. IX.

[36] See id. preamble, art. I(1)(a).

[37] See Scott Barrett, Environment and Statecraft: The Strategy of Environmental Treaty-Making 292 (2003) (“Countries can reach a consensus around a weak agreement, or they can negotiate a more potent but incomplete agreement.”).

[38] This approach is a useful negotiation technique in cases where parties can agree on general principles but disagree about specific provisions. See Scott Barrett, On the Theory and Diplomacy of Environmental Treaty-Making, 11 Envtl. & Resource Econ. 317, 320 (1998).

[39] See supra note 18.

[40] The CMS makes no provision for monitoring, compliance, or enforcement. See generally Convention on the Conservation of Migratory Species of Wild Animals, supra note 5. In contrast, multilateral agreements such as the Montreal Protocol on Substances that Deplete the Ozone Layer, the U.N. Framework Convention on Climate Change, the U.N. Convention to Combat Desertification, and the Basel Convention on Transboundary Movement of Hazardous Wastes and Their Disposal all include noncompliance procedures. Günther Handl, Compliance Control Mechanisms and International Environmental Obligations, 5 Tul. J. Int’l & Comp. L. 29, 33–34 (1997).

[41] Guidelines for Agreements include provisions stating that Agreements should include participation by States throughout a specie’s range; include more than one migratory species when possible; coordinate conservation plans; coordinate exchange of information; conserve and restore habitat; maintain suitable networks of habitats; eliminate or minimize obstacles to migration; prevent release of harmful substances into migratory habitat; control takings; and educate the public about the Agreement. Convention on the Conservation of Migratory Species of Wild Animals, supra note 5, art. V.

[42] The CMS text distinguishes between legally binding AGREEMENTS and nonbinding daughter agreements such as MOUs and action plans. See id. arts. I(1)(j), IV–V. This Article does the same.

[43] Convention on Migratory Species, 25 Years of Journeys: A Special Report to Mark the Silver Anniversary of the Bonn Convention on Migratory Species (1979–2004), at 4 (2004), available at http://www.cms.int/news/PRESS/nwPR2004/25th_Anniversary/CMS_
Bulletin_25th_Ann_en.pdf.

[44] See Convention on Migratory Species, supra note 30, at 5–15.

[45] Caddell, supra note 19, at 119–20.

[46] The CMS instructs Parties to “take action to avoid any migratory species becoming endangered.” Convention on the Conservation of Migratory Species of Wild Animals, supra note 5, art. II(2); see also infra notes 53–55, 78–81 and accompanying text.

[47] Int’l Union for Conservation of Nature & Natural Resources, The IUCN Red List of Threatened Species: Grus leucogeranus, http://www.iucnredlist.org/apps/redlist/details/143772/0 (last visited Mar. 13, 2011) (listing the Siberian Crane); Int’l Union for Conservation of Nature and Natural Resources, The IUCN Red List of Threatened Species: Numenius tenuirostris, http://www.iucnredlist.org/apps/redlist/details/143992/0 (last visited Mar. 13, 2011) (listing the slender-billed curlew); see also Convention on Migratory Species, CMS Family Guide Species 15–16 (2009) [hereinafter CMS Family Guide Species], available at http://www.cms.int/
publications/pdf/CMS_Family_Guide/CMS_Family_Guide_Internet/Species.pdf. The MOUs covering the Siberian Crane and the Slender-billed Curlew were the first two entered into under the CMS. See generally Convention on Migratory Species, CMS Family Guide Agreements and MoUs 8–25 (2009), available at http://www.cms.int/publications/pdf/CMS_Family_Guide/
CMS_Family_Guide_Internet/agreements_mou.pdf.

[48] Caddell, supra note 19, at 119–20.

[49] Since 2000, MOUs have been concluded for West African elephants, aquatic warblers, raptors, Bukhara Deer, Pacific cetaceans, dugongs, Andean Flamingos, grassland birds of Southern South America, Great Bustards, African marine turtles, Southeast Asian marine turtles, Mediterranean Monk Seals, Ruddy-headed Geese, Saiga Antelope, sharks, Siberian Cranes, Slender-billed Curlews, and West African aquatic mammals. Convention on Migratory Species, supra note 30.

[50] See Clare Shine, Selected Agreements Concluded Pursuant to the Convention on the Conservation of Migratory Species of Wild Animals, in Commitment and Compliance: The Role of Non-Binding Norms in the International Legal System 196, 220–21 (Dinah Shelton ed., 2000).

[51] See infra Part IV.B.5.

[52] See infra text accompanying notes 55–64.

[53] Convention on the Conservation of Migratory Species of Wild Animals, supra note 5, art. II(1).

[54] Id. art. II(2).

[55] See Convention on Migratory Species, supra note 43, at 19.

[56] At the time the CMS was negotiated, the notion of migratory animals as a resource shared among nations was a new and controversial legal concept. Id. at 19. Shared resources posed a challenge to the traditional principle of state sovereignty; nations may exploit resources within their borders, provided that this exploitation causes no harm to other nations. The shared resource concept places limitations on nations’ sovereign right to exploit resources—such as migratory animals—which do not live exclusively within the borders of any single nation. See Cyril de Klemm, Migratory Species in International Law, 29 Nat. Resources J. 935, 949–54 (1989).

[57] Klemm, supra note 56.

[58] See Convention on Migratory Species, supra note 43, at 19.

[59] Id.

[60] Id.

[61] Id. (explaining some States’ position that marine species should be excluded because of potential conflicts with ongoing UNCLOS negotiations and because conservation regimes were already underway in the Antarctic).

[62] Convention on the Conservation of Migratory Species of Wild Animals, supra note 5, Preamble. The Preamble continues:

AWARE that each generation of man holds the resources of the earth for future generations and has an obligation to ensure that this legacy is conserved and, where utilized, is used wisely;

CONSCIOUS of the ever-growing value of wild animals from environmental, ecological, genetic, scientific, aesthetic, recreational, cultural, educational, social and economic points of view;

CONCERNED particularly with those species of wild animals that migrate across or outside national jurisdictional boundaries;

RECOGNIZING that the States are and must be the protectors of the migratory species of wild animals that live within or pass through their national jurisdictional boundaries;

CONVINCED that conservation and effective management of migratory species of wild animals require the concerted action of all States within the national jurisdictional boundaries of which such species spend any part of their life cycle.

Id.

[63] The CMS defines migratory species as “the entire population or any geographically separate part of the population of any species or lower taxon of wild animals, a significant proportion of whose members cyclically and predictably cross one or more national jurisdictional boundaries.” Id. art. I(1)(a).

[64] Id. art. IV(3).

[65] See infra note 67 and accompanying text.

[66] Convention on the Conservation of Migratory Species of Wild Animals, supra note 5, art. IV(1).

[67] All seven of the CMS AGREEMENTS and at least eleven of the CMS MOUs protect species that are endangered, vulnerable, or have experienced declines. See generally CMS Family Guide Species, supra note 47, at 2–24 (identifying Saiga Antelope, Mediterranean Monk Seals, Siberian Cranes, Slender-billed Curlews, marine turtles, African elephants, Bukhara Deer, dugongs, Lesser Kestrels, and sharks as either critically endangered or vulnerable). While the African-Eurasian Waterbird Agreement (AEWA) includes species categorized as “least concern,” it also includes critically endangered species such as the Sociable Lapwing. Id. at 18–20. All of the species protected under the Agreement on the Conservation of Albatrosses and Petrels (ACAP) are listed as “Endangered,” “Critically Endangered,” or “Vulnerable.” See Agreement on the Conservation of Albatrosses & Petrels, Albatross and Petrel Species to Which the ACAP Agreement Applies (2009), available at http://www.acap.aq/acap-species/download-document/1190-a-list-of-acap-species; see also Int’l Union for Conservation of Nature & Natural Resources, Red List Search, http://www.iucnredlist.org/apps/redlist/search (using search terms “albatross” and “petrel,” yields the birds listed in the ACAP species list) (last visited March 17, 2011). The Agreement on the Conservation of Cetaceans of the Black Sea, Mediterranean Sea and Contiguous Atlantic Area (ACCOBAMS) includes the Short-beaked Common Dolphin, which has faced sharp population declines in portions of the Agreement area. Giuseppe Notarbartolo di Sciara, Cetacean Species Occurring in the Mediterranean and Black Seas, in Permanent Secretariat of ACCOBAMS, Cetaceans of the Mediterranean and Black Seas: State of Knowledge and Conservation Strategies, at 3.1, 3.6 (Giuseppe Notarbartolo di Sciara ed., 2001), available at http://www.accobams.org/images/
stories/PDF/cetaceans%20of%20the%20mediterranean%20and%20black%20seas_%20state%20of%20knowledge%20and%20conservation%20strategies.pdf. The Agreement on the Conservation of Small Cetaceans of the Baltic, North East Atlantic, Irish and North Seas (ASCOBANS) includes protection of the Harbor Porpoise, whose Baltic Sea populations are believed to have dropped to 600 individuals. See Convention on Migratory Species, supra note 30, at 8–9. The Eurobats Agreement includes several bat species that are considered to be in decline, at risk, or are listed as endangered or vulnerable in the IUCN Red List. See Eurobats, Occurrence and Red List Categories of Bats in EUROBATS Range States, available at http://www.eurobats.org/about/
species_distr_range_rev2007.pdf. The Agreement on the Conservation of Gorillas and Their Habitats protects the mountain gorilla, which is listed by the IUCN Red List as critically endangered. CMS Family Guide Species, supra note 47, at 1. The Agreement on the Conservation of Seals in the Wadden Sea was concluded in response to a sharp decline in harbor seal populations. See Convention on Migratory Species, supra note 9.

[68] See, e.g., Memorandum of Understanding Concerning Conservation Measures for the Eastern Atlantic Populations of the Mediterranean Monk Seal (Monachus monachus), Oct. 18, 2007, B7 p. 979:55/S, available at http://www.cms.int/species/monk_seal/Monk_Seal_
MoU_with_signatures_En.pdf (protecting a single species of seal). But see Gorilla MOU, supra note 6, at  art. I (protecting “all species” of gorillas).

[69] Such agreements and memoranda of understanding have been concluded for African-Eurasian waterbirds; albatrosses and petrels; small cetaceans in the Baltic, North-East Atlantic, Irish and North Seas; raptors; Pacific cetaceans; and grassland birds of Southern South America. See Convention on Migratory Species, supra note 30, at 2–3.

[70] See, e.g., Pacific Island Cetacean MOU, supra note 33 (protecting all species of cetaceans using similar habitats and subjected to similar threats in the Pacific Islands Region); Grassland Birds MOU, supra note 33 (protecting several avian species using similar grassland habitat throughout Southern South America).

[71] Convention on Migratory Species, supra note 30, at 27, 34 (listing agreements for the Ruddy-headed Goose (Chloephaga rubidiceps) and the Mediterranean Monk Seal). The Ruddy-headed Goose is an International Union for Conservation of Nature (IUCN) Species of Least Concern. Int’l Union for Conservation of Nature & Natural Res., Chloephaga rubidiceps, http://www.iucnredlist.org/apps/redlist/details/141463/0 (last visited April 2, 2011). The Mediterranean Monk Seal is Critically Endangered under IUCN standards. Int’l Union for Conservation of Nature & Natural Res., Monachus monachus, http://www.iucnredlist.org/
apps/redlist/details/13653/0 (last visited April 2, 2011).

[72] See generally Fischman & Hyman, supra note 1, at 175.

[73] Id. at 175.

[74] Id. at 175–76 (citing Nat’l Research Council, Perspectives on Biodiversity: Valuing Its Role in an Everchanging World 20–21 (1999), Timothy J. Farnham, Saving Nature’s Legacy: Origins of the Idea of Biological Diversity 3 (2007), David B. Lindenmayer & Jerry F. Franklin, Conserving Forest Biodiversity: A Comprehensive Multiscaled Approach 6–7 (2002), and Reed F. Noss, Indicators for Monitoring Biodiversity: A Hierarchical Approach, 4 Conservation Biology 355, 356 (1990)).

[75] Id. at 229.

[76] Id.

[77] Id. at 230. The MPM does not specify how this benchmark should be established, but suggests that historic abundance or current carrying capacity might be suitable: “The benchmark may be the maximum population abundance recorded or estimated, an estimate of current carrying capacity, or a range of abundances reflecting the historic or ‘natural’ range of variability in the population’s size.” Id.

[78] Id. These protections would balance the needs of the migration with economic and other social needs; some activities that harm migrants or their habitats might be allowed, provided these activities do not pose major threats to ecological viability.

[79] Here “ecological viability” is defined as the population needed to “protect[] the ‘phenomenon of migration’ and the ecological role it serves.” Id. at 193.

[80] Id. at 195–96.

[81] Id. at 176.

[82] See id. at 196–97, 230.

[83] See id. at 175–76 (explaining that migration itself is a part of a broader definition of biodiversity that seeks to avoid “exclud[ing] some of the most emotionally resonant and ecologically important spectacles of nature”).

[84] Convention on the Conservation of Migratory Species of Wild Animals, supra note 5, art. III(4); Fischman & Hyman, supra note 1, at 231–32.

[85] Fischman & Hyman, supra note 1, at 230.

[86] Convention on the Conservation of Migratory Species of Wild Animals, supra note 5, arts. III(1), IV(1).

[87] Id. art. IV(2).

[88] Id. art. III(5); see also Caddell, supra note 19, at 117–18 (explaining that most of the protections afforded Appendix I species under the CMS have limited obligatory strength because they require Parties only to “endeavor” to provide the protections). In contrast, Parties “shall prohibit the taking” of Appendix I species, subject to clearly defined exceptions. Convention on the Conservation of Migratory Species of Wild Animals, supra note 5, art. III(5). Parties’ affirmative duties under the CMS are limited, at least in part, by the nature of international environmental law—there is an inherent tradeoff between participation levels and stringency of international environmental agreements that often limits the degree to which a treaty can compel nations to commit to stringent protections. See discussion infra Part IV.B.1.

[89] Convention on Migratory Species, Convention of Migratory Species 11–16, 19–20, 24 (2008), available at http://www.cms.int/publications/pdf/Convention_brochure.pdf.

[90] See supra note 69 and accompanying text.

[91] Convention on the Conservation of Migratory Species of Wild Animals, supra note 5, arts. I(1)(A), II(2) (defining the key term “migratory species”—central to the Convention—and noting that a fundamental principle of the Convention is to “take action to avoid any migratory species becoming endangered” (emphasis added)); cf. Fishman & Hyman, supra note 1, at 229 (distinguishing the MPM approach from a “single species approach,” like that in the CMS, considering MPM is not strictly a “multiple species approach” but rather, a flexible means to protect migration as a form of abundance).

[92] See Fischman & Hyman, supra note 1, at 194–95, 230–31. In the MPM, the most stringent protections are triggered when population abundance falls below the “lower critical threshold[, which] protects the abundance necessary to maintain the migratory population’s functional role in the landscape and ecosystem, in addition to the individual and social behaviors of migrants.” Id. at 230.

[93] Convention on the Conservation of Migratory Species of Wild Animals, supra note 5, art. III; see, e.g., Grant Harris et al., Global Decline in Aggregated Migrations of Large Terrestrial Mammals, 7 Endangered Species Res. 55, 68–69 (2009) (describing terrestrial migrations worldwide that have become extinct as population levels have declined).

[94] The MPM prioritizes conserving migrations based on population abundance and ecological value of species’ habitats. See Fischman & Hyman, supra note 1, at 231.

[95] See supra note 34 and accompanying text.

[96] Scholars sometimes identify “charismatic megafauna” as “relatively large animal species, typically mammals or birds, that have symbolic value. . . . Because many of these species are endangered, their plight receives great media attention, and . . . the appeal of these ‘flagship’ species remains high.” Donald G. Kaufman & Cecilia M. Franz, Biosphere 2000: Protecting Our Global Environment 342 (3d ed. 2000). Several CMS species would arguably fall into this category, including the Mountain Gorilla, the African elephant, the Siberian Crane, and cetaceans such as dolphins, porpoises, and whales. See generally CMS Family Guide Species, supra note 47.

[97] CMS Family Guide Species, supra note 47; see also supra notes 68–70 and accompanying text.

[98] Convention on the Conservation of Migratory Species of Wild, supra note 5, art. V(1).

[99] Id. art. I(1)(C)(4).

[100] The upper benchmark for the MPM—below which conservation measures would be applied—might be “the maximum population abundance recorded or estimated, an estimate of current carrying capacity, or a range of abundances reflecting the historic or ‘natural’ range of variability in the population’s size.” Fischman & Hyman, supra note 1, at 230. This is comparable to the CMS requirement that the goal of AGREEMENTS include restoring species to historic levels, consistent with ecosystem availability and wise wildlife management. Convention on the Conservation of Migratory Species of Wild, supra note 5, art. I(1)(C)(4).

[101] See infra Part III.B (discussing the AEWA).

[102] See infra text accompanying notes 138–41.

[103] One of the Fundamental Principals of the AEWA is that “Parties shall take co-ordinated measures to maintain migratory waterbird species in a favourable conservation status or to restore them to such a status.” Agreement on the Conservation of African-Eurasian Migratory Waterbirds, art. II(1), 4th Sess., Sept. 2008, 2365 U.N.T.S. I-42632.

[104] See Wings Over Wetland (WOW) UNEP-GEF African-Eurasion Flyways Project, Flyway Conservation at Work Across Africa and Eurasia, WOW Project Newsletter, 2010, at 7, available at http://wow.wetlands.org/Portals/1/documents/communication/wow_project_newsletter_2010.pdf.

[105] Id. at 15–19. A “major achievement of the WOW project” has been the development of the Critical Site Network Tool, a web-based platform that combines several databases on migratory bird routes and allows decision makers to access spatial data, on a flyway scale, about critical sites for migratory waterbirds. Id. at 15. The Critical Site Network tool is available at www.wingsoverwetlands.org/csntool.

[106] Id. at 7–8, 11, 13, 29, 31, 36–37, 45, 49, 51, 55.

[107] Convention on Migratory Species, supra note 30, at 2–3 (listing the Agreements, Memoranda of Understanding, and the signatories of CMS).

[108] Id. at 5–34; see also Convention on Migratory Species, Countries Participating in CMS/MOU That Are Not Yet Parties to CMS (2011), available at http://www.cms.int/about/
Nonparties_participating_in_CMS_Agreements_MoU.pdf.

[109] United Nations Envtl. Programme, Involving Non-Parties in CMS Subsidiary Agreements and MOUs, http://www.unep.org/dec/onlinemanual/Compliance/NegotiatingMEAs/Country
Participation/Resource/tabid/602/Default.aspx (last visited Mar. 17, 2011).

[110] See discussion infra Part IV.B.

[111] Agreement on the Conservation of Seals in the Wadden Sea, Oct. 16, 1990, available at http://www.cms.int/species/wadden_seals/sea_text.htm.

[112] Convention on Migratory Species, supra note 9.

[113] African-Eurasian Migratory Waterbird Agreement, Introduction, http://www.unep-aewa.org/about/introduction.htm (last visited Mar. 16, 2011).

[114] See Convention on Migratory Species, supra note 9.

[115] Agreement on the Conservation of Seals in the Wadden Sea, supra note 111, art. XVIII.

[116] Id. preamble.

[117] Convention on Migratory Species, supra note 9.

[118] Agreement on the Conservation of Seals in the Wadden Sea, supra note 111, art. III.

[119] Id. arts. IV, V, VII, VIII.

[120] Common Wadden Sea Secretariat, Conservation and Management Plan for the Wadden Seal Population 2002–2006, at 5, 8 (2001), available at http://www.waddensea-secretariat.org/tgc/TGC-Esbjerg01/SMP.pdf.

[121] Id. at 1–4.

[122] Id. at 3–4.

[123] Id. at 5–6. Monitoring Parties’ implementation of required provisions is more complex in the context of international treaties than monitoring agencies’ implementation of statutes under domestic law. It can be difficult to determine, for example, when a nation has discharged its duties to coordinate with other nations or to acquire additional habitat. Even when a nation’s required duties are clearly defined, nations are often reluctant to commit to binding actions, leading to many environmental treaties that contain weakly worded language, instructing nations, for example, to “endeavor” to take actions “to the degree feasible and appropriate.” And even where language is forceful and binding, many agreements lack effective compliance mechanisms to hold nations accountable to their commitments. Caddell, supra note 19, at 142–43 (identifying similar problems with the Bonn Convention).

[124] The three countries that are Parties to the Wadden Sea Seal Agreement are Denmark, Germany, and the Netherlands. Agreement on the Conservation of Seals in the Wadden Sea, supra note 111, art. XVIII.

[125] See infra Part IV.A, IV.B.1, 2.

[126] The Parties all participate in a trilateral cooperation on the Wadden Sea generally; this trilateral cooperative effort receives significant political support from all three countries, and its activities are coordinated by its own Secretariat. See generally Common Wadden Sea Secretariat, Trilateral Wadden Sea Cooperation-CWSS Homepage, http://www.waddensea-secretariat.org (last visited Mar. 13, 2011) (explaining that the Parties to the Wadden Seal Agreement share common goals and providing an overview of the organization of the trilateral cooperation).

[127] Trilateral Seal Expert Grp., Aerial Surveys of Harbour Seals in the Wadden Sea in 2009: Growth of the Harbour Seal Population Slowing Down?, http://www.waddensea-secretariat.org/news/news/Seals/Annual-reports/seals2009.html (last visited Mar. 13, 2011).

[128] Id; see Convention on Migratory Species, supra note 9.

[129] In 1900, the seal population is estimated at between 19,000–38,000 individuals. Trilateral Seal Expert Grp., supra note 127.

[130] Not all of the countries within the Agreement Area are Parties. See African-Eurasian Migratory Waterbird Agreement, supra note 113; African-Eurasian Migratory Waterbird Agreement, AEWA Interactive Map, http://www.unep-aewa.org/map/map_large.htm (last visited Mar. 15, 2011).

[131] Convention on Migratory Species, supra note 5, at 1–6.

[132] Agreement on the Conservation of African-Eurasian Migratory Waterbirds, supra note 103, preamble (stating that migratory birds “should be conserved for the benefit of present and future generations” and noting that any takings should be “conducted on a sustainable basis”).

[133] African-Eurasian Migratory Waterbird Agreement, AEWA Strategic Plan 2009–2017, at 5 (2008), available at http://www.unep-aewa.org/documents/strategic_plan/strategic_plan_
2009-2017.pdf (“Waterbirds are a shared resource, and their conservation requires a shared responsibility towards sustainable management of the different species, their populations and their flyways. This long-term vision reflects the philosophy of AEWA that waterbird conservation and people should go hand in hand, thus contributing to the conservation of global biodiversity.”).

[134] Id.

[135] Agreement on the Conservation of African-Eurasian Migratory Waterbirds, supra note 103, art. III(2)(b).

[136] Id. preamble.

[137] See Agreement on the Conservation of African-Eurasian Migratory Waterbirds Res. 2.1, Amendments to the Annexes to the Agreement, App. I tbl.1, available at http://www.cms.int/
species/aewa/pdf/AEWA_population_list.pdf.

[138] Agreement on the Conservation of African-Eurasian Migratory Waterbirds, supra note 103, art. III(2)(a). Under the CMS, Parties are required to prohibit takings of endangered species, subject to exceptions that include takings for scientific purposes, to enhance species survival, to accommodate traditional subsistence users, or under other limited and extraordinary circumstances. Convention on the Conservation of Migratory Species of Wild Animals, supra note 5, art. III(5). Parties are also encouraged to conserve and restore habitat, prevent or minimize the effects of adverse activities, and prevent factors that are likely to further endanger the species to the extent feasible. Id. art. III(4).

[139] Agreement on the Conservation of African-Eurasian Migratory Waterbirds, supra note 103, Annex 3 §§ 2.2, 3.2.

[140] Id. Annex 3 §§ 4.1, 4.3.

[141] Id. art. III(2). While AEWA article III(1) instructs Parties to “giv[e] special attention to endangered species as well as to those with an unfavourable conservation status,” most of AEWA’s conservation measures apply to all migratory waterbirds, regardless of conservation status. Id. art. III(1).

[142] See discussion supra Part II.B.

[143] See African-Eurasian Migratory Waterbird Agreement, supra note 113; African-Eurasian Migratory Waterbird Agreement, supra note 130 (showing Parties are distributed across three continents); see infra Part IV.B.4 (discussing difficulties of implementation and enforcement, particularly with developing countries).

[144] See African-Eurasian Migratory Waterbird Agreement, supra note 133, at 5–9.

[145] See id. at 11–22.

[146] See id. at 7–9 (outlining objectives regarding conservation, sustainability, communication, education, and capacity in relation to waterbird species, including focus on threatened species).

[147] See id.

[148] Agreement on the Conservation of African-Eurasian Migratory Waterbirds, supra note 103, art. VIII.

[149] African-Eurasian Migratory Waterbird Agreement, supra note 113.

[150] Fifteen of the Contracting Parties to the AEWA are classified by the United Nations as Least Developed Countries (LDCs), which are characterized by extreme poverty. Compare African-Eurasian Migratory Waterbird Agreement, AEWA-63 Contracting Parties, http://www.unep-aewa.org/map/parties.htm (last visited Mar. 16, 2011), with Office of the High Representative for the Least Developed Countries, Landlocked Developing Countries and Small Island Developing States (UN-OHRLLS), The Least Developed Countries: Things to KNOW, Things to DO 2 (2009), available at http://www.unohrlls.org/UserFiles/File /LDC%20Documents/Advocacy%20brochure%20english%20for%20web.pdf (listing LDC Parties as: Benin, Djibouti, Equatorial Guinea, Ethiopia, Gambia, Guinea, Guinea-Bissou, Madagascar, Mali, Niger, Senegal, Sudan, Tanzania, Togo, and Uganda). LDCs typically possess limited governmental capacity to achieve public policy objectives. See, e.g., Office of the High Representative for the Least Developed Countries, Landlocked Developing Countries and Small Island Developing States, Governance for the Future: Democracy and Development in the Least Developed Countries 51–52 (2006), available at http://www.unohrlls.org/UserFiles/File/Publications/Governancereport.pdf.

[151] Agreement on the Conservation of African-Eurasian Migratory Waterbirds, supra note 103, art. VIII, Annex II.

[152] Id. arts. III(2), V(1).

[153] Wings Over Wetland (WOW) UNEP-GEF African-Eurasion Flyways Project, supra note 104, at 4.

[154] See supra note 106; see also Wings over Wetlands, The Critical Site Network Tool, available at http://wow.wetlands.org/Portals/1/documents/communication/wow_csn_tool_flyer_
june_2010.pdf.

[155] Wings Over Wetland (WOW) UNEP-GEF African-Eurasion Flyways Project, supra note 104, at 29–31.

[156] Id. at 55.

[157] See supra Part III.

[158] See Meretsky, Atwell & Hyman, supra note 1, at 514–28 (discussing gaps in migration conservation science, law, and policy).

[159] An analysis of CMS daughter agreements shows that most focus on one or two endangered species. See Convention on Migratory Species, supra note 30.

[160] Harris et al., supra note 93, at 62–63; Suzanne Serneels & Eric F. Lambin, Impact of Land-Use Changes on the Wildebeest Migration in the Northern Part of the Serengeti-Mara Ecosystem, 28 J. Biogeography 391, 392, 404–05 (2001); see also Yisehak Doku et al., Population Status of Plains Zebra (Equus quagga) in Nechisar Plains, Nechisar National Park, Ethiopia, 48 Tropical Ecology 79, 84–85 (2007); Meretsky, Atwell & Hyman, supra note 1, at 463 (describing wildebeest migration as a “phenomena of abundance”).

[161] See supra Part III.A.

[162] See Convention on Migratory Species, supra note 10.

[163] E.g., Agreement on the Conservation of Albatrosses and Petrels, Amsterdam Albatross (Diomedea amsterdamensis), available at http://www.acap.aq/acap-species/download-document/1180-amsterdam-albatross; Agreement on the Conservation of Albatrosses and Petrels, Spectacled Petrel (Procellaria conspicillata), available at http://www.acap.aq/acap-species/download-document/1205-spectacled-petrel. But see, e.g., Agreement on the Conservation of Albatrosses and Petrels, Wandering Albatross (Diomedea exulans), available at http://www.acap.aq/acap-species/download-document/1207-wandering-albatross.

[164] See, e.g., Press Release, Convention on Migratory Species, CMS on Brink of Five New Species Agreements (Oct. 1, 2007) [hereinafter CMS on Brink of Five New Species Agreements], available at http://www.cms.int/news/PRESS/nwPR2007/10_Oct/CMS_five_new_agreements
.htm; Press Release, Convention on Migratory Species, New CMS Agreement Signed to Save Sea Cows (Oct. 31, 2007), available at http://www.cms.int/news/PRESS/nwPR2007/10_Oct/
Dugong_MoU.htm; Press Release, Convention on Migratory Species, Conservation Agreement for Andean Flamingos Signed at CMS Conference of Parties (Dec. 4, 2008), available at http://www.cms.int/press/pressreleases/Flamingo%20PR.pdf.

[165] See CMS on Brink of Five New Species Agreements, supra note 164.

[166] See supra Part III.A (describing the small number of parties to the Wadden Sea Agreement as a factor in the success of the Agreement in increasing seal populations in the Wadden Sea).

[167] See Agreement on the Conservation of Cetaceans of the Black Sea, Mediterranean Sea and Contiguous Atlantic Area, Oct. 22–25, 2007, Dubrovnik, Croat., Report of the Third Meeting of the Contracting Parties to ACCOMBAMS, at 3, 9, 96, available at http://www.accobams.org/
index.php?option=com_docman&task=doc_download&gid=45&Itemid=50.

[168] The African Marine Turtles MOU seeks to protect six species of marine turtles along the coastline from Morocco to South Africa. Convention on Migratory Species, Memorandum of Understanding Concerning Conservation Measures for Marine Turtles of the Atlantic Coast of Africa, http://www.cms.int/species/africa_turtle/AFRICAturtle_bkgd.htm (last visited Mar. 15, 2011). The six identified turtle species are thought to have experienced significant declines in recent years due to exploitation and habitat loss. Id. This region has 26 Range States, 22 of which have signed the MOU; most of which are developing African nations. Memorandum of Understanding Concerning Conservation Measures for Marine Turtles of the Atlantic Coast of Africa, May 6–9, 2002, Nairobi, Kenya, Conservation and Management Plan for Marine Turtles of the Atlantic Coast of Africa, available at http://www.cms.int/species/africa_turtle/pdf/
africa_turtles_mou_cp_en.pdf. These signatories developed an Action Plan in 2002 with the primary goal of developing a database on turtle ecology and threats, as well as for monitoring and protecting nesting and feeding sites. See Convention on Migratory Species, supra. Funding remains a significant problem for implementing actions under the MOU, although the CMS has funded certain activities, such as a comprehensive review of turtle status in the region. The MOU does not have a Secretariat, although the MOU is overseen by the environmental program of the New Partnership for Africa’s Development in Senegal. Id.

[169] See supra Part III.A–B.

[170] E.g., Convention on Migratory Species, Pacific Cetaceans, http://www.cms.int/species/
pacific_cet/pacific_cet_bkrd.htm (last visited Mar. 13, 2011); Convention on Migratory Species, Memorandum of Understanding Concerning Conservation Measures for the Aquatic Warbler, http://www.cms.int/species/aquatic_warbler/aquatic_warbler_bkrd.htm (last visited Apr. 2, 2011); Convention on Migratory Species, Memorandum of Understanding on the Conservation and Management of the Middle-Eastern Population of the Great Bustard, http://www.cms.int/species/otis_tarda/otis_tarda_bkrd.htm [hereinafter Great Bustard MOU] (last visited Mar. 12, 2011).

[171] See supra Part III.A–B.

[172] See infra Part IV.B.1.

[173] See supra Part III.B.

[174] EUROBATS, AEWA, ACAP, the Agreement on Gorillas, and MOUs on the slender-billed curlew, aquatic warbler, dugongs, Pacific cetaceans, manatees, and birds of prey all have at least one-third of their Range States as non-participants, although some of these instruments are new. See Convention on Migratory Species, supra note 30, at 6, 10, 14–15, 17, 22, 24, 28, 30–31.

[175] Peter P. Marra, David Hunter & Anne M. Perrault, Migratory Connectivity and the Conservation of Migratory Animals, 41 Envtl. L. 317, 342–43 (2011) (example of how sufficient information can improve current collaboration for research and monitoring).

[176] See id., at 320.

[177] See supra Part II.B.

[178] Brent Geese, for example, can breed in tundra, coastal meadows, small grassy islands, and in tundra lakes and rivers; and in non-breeding seasons has been known to graze in estuaries, mudflats, salt marshes, bays, cultivated grasslands, and winter grain fields. See Birdlife Int’l, Brent Goose (Branta bernicla), http://www.birdlife.org/datazone/speciesfactsheet.
php?id=386 (last visited March 16, 2011). The needs of this type of migrant will generally be easier to meet when compared with migrants that show high fidelity to particular breeding sites.

[179] See Eric Gilman et al., Reducing Sea Turtle By-Catch in Pelagic Longline Fisheries, 7 Fish & Fisheries 2, 4 (2006) (discussing regulatory controls on the fishing industry as a solution to abate sea turtle by-catch).

[180] Jonathan Baert Wiener, Global Environmental Regulation: Instrument Choice in Legal Context, 108 Yale L.J. 677, 696–97 (1999) (discussing how changing the requirements to international environmental agreements could encourage nonparticipants to join multilateral treaties).

[181] Convention on the Conservation of Migratory Species of Wild Animals, supra note 5, art. V.

[182] See Convention on Migratory Species, supra note 30, at 2­–3 (highlighting that seven AGREEMENTS have been signed, compared to nineteen Memoranda of Understanding).

[183] This is often the case when economic activities conflict with migratory species. For example, commercial fisheries often harm turtles as by-catch. Gilman et al., supra note 179, at 3. Fishing practices can be modified to avoid harm to the turtles, but fishers are unlikely to voluntarily adopt these practices, unless they are “convenient and economically viable.” Id. at 4. Unless methods are identified that reduce the harm to turtles and provide economic benefits to fishers, regulatory solutions are likely to be the most effective strategy. See id.

[184] See Barrett, supra note 37, at 336.

[185] Id.; see also Frederick W. Mayer, Managing Domestic Differences in International Negotiations: The Strategic Use of Internal Side-Payments, 46 Int’l Org. 793, 806 (1992).

[186] See Barrett supra note 37, at 336–37, 342–43.

[187] See Kathleen A. Miller, Conservation of Migratory Species in a Changing Climate: Strategic Behavior and Policy Design, 41 Envtl. L. 573, 573 (2011).

[188] See Barrett, supra note 37, at 79–80 (parties are symmetrical when the species does not provide an economic benefit to either party); see also Miller, supra note 187, at 593 (demonstrating a scenario where an NGO might intervene when the parties were unwilling to proceed).

[189] Convention on Migratory Species, Agreement on the Conservation of Populations of European Bats, http://www.cms.int/species/eurobats/bat_bkrd.htm (last visited Mar. 16, 2011).

[190] See UNEP/EUROBATS Secretariat, EUROBATS: The Agreement on the Conservation of Populations of European Bats (UNEP/EUROBATS), available at http://www.eurobats.org/
publications/leaflet/EUROBATS_leaflet_English.pdf.

[191] See Giuseppe Notarbartolo di Sciara et al., Overview of Known or Presumed Impacts of the Different Species of Cetaceans in the Mediterranean and Black Seas, in Permanent Secretariat of ACCOBAMS, supra note 68, at 17.1, 17.4, tbl.17.1 (providing an overview of “known or presumed impacts” to Black and Mediterranean Sea cetaceans and showing that there is insufficient data to determine the significance of many presumed threats).

[192] See Convention on Migratory Species, Memorandum of Understanding Concerning Conservation Measures for the Slender-Billed Curlew, http://www.cms.int/species/sb_curlew/
sbc_bkrd.htm (last visited Mar. 16, 2011).

[193] New technology may help address the problems with studying species. See Marra, Hunter & Perrault, supra note 175.

[194] See id. at 322.

[195] Id. (citing Matthew W. Reudink et al., Non-Breeding Season Events Influence Sexual Selection in a Long-Distance Migratory Bird, 276 Proc. Royal Soc’y B 1619, 1623 (2009)).

[196] See id.

[197] Montreal Protocol on Substances That Deplete the Ozone Layer, arts. 6, 7, 9, Sept. 16, 1987, 26 I.L.M. 1554.

[198] See Diane M. Doolittle, Comment, Underestimating Ozone Depletion: The Meandering Road to the Montreal Protocol and Beyond, 16 Ecology L.Q. 407, 421 (1989).

[199] See Peter M. Morrisette, The Evolution of Policy Responses to Stratospheric Ozone Depletion, 29 Nat. Resources J. 793, 812 (1989).

[200] Hyman, Need & Weeks, supra note 1.

[201] Agreements often use language that falls short of placing particular requirements on Parties. The ASCOBANS AGREEMENT, for example, requires Parties to “endeavour to establish an efficient system for reporting and retrieving by-catches” and to “endeavour to establish (a) the prohibition under national law, of the intentional taking and killing of small cetaceans where such regulations are not already in force, and (b) the obligation to release immediately any animals caught alive and in good health.” Agreement on the Conservation of Small Cetaceans of the Baltic, North East Atlantic, Irish, and North Seas, Mar. 17, 1992, 1772 U.N.T.S. 217, Annex 3–4, available at http://www.cms.int/species/ascobans/asc_text.htm.

[202] See, e.g., Christopher J. Carr & Harry N. Scheiber, Dealing with a Resource Crisis: Regulatory Regimes for Managing the World’s Marine Fisheries, 21 Stan. Envtl. L.J. 45, 59–62 (2002) (describing problems with national enforcement of international fishing regulations).

[203] See Giuseppe Notarbartolo di Sciara, Summary, in Permanent Secretariat of ACCOBAMS, supra note 67, at 1.1, 1.2, 1.3; Giuseppe Notarbartolo di Sciara, Conservation Problems: Overview, in Permanent Secretariat of ACCOBAMS, supra note 67, at 4.1, 4.3; Giuseppe Notarbartolo di Sciara & Giovanni Bearzi, Cetacean Direct Killing and Live Capture in the Mediterranean Sea, in Permanent Secretariat of ACCOBAMS, supra note 67, at 5.1, 5.3; Mark Simmonds & Laetitia Nunny, Cetacean Habitat Loss and Degradation in the Mediterranean Sea, in Permanent Secretariat of ACCOBAMS, supra note 67, at 7.1, 7.16; Giovanni Bearzi, Interactions Between Cetaceans and Fisheries in the Mediterranean Sea, in Permanent Secretariat of ACCOBAMS, supra note 67, at 9.1, 9.8; Léa David, Disturbance to Mediterranean Cetaceans Caused by Vehicle Traffic, in Permanent Secretariat of ACCOBAMS, supra note 67, at 11.1, 11.15; Pierre-Christian Beaubrun, Disturbance to Mediterranean Cetaceans Caused by Whale Watching, in Permanent Secretariat of ACCOBAMS, supra note 67, at 12.1, 12.17; Giuseppe Notarbartolo di Sciara & Alexei Birkun, Jr., Conservation Needs and Strategies, in Permanent Secretariat of ACCOBAMS, supra note 67, at 18.1, 18.3, 18.13.

[204] Michael E. Porter & Claas van der Linde, Toward a New Conception of the Environmental-Competitiveness Relationship, 9 J. Econ. Persp. 97, 109–09 (1995).

[205] See Elinor Ostrom, Governing the Commons: The Evolution of Institutions for Collective Action 17–18 (1990).

[206] See supra note 150.

[207] See First Meeting of the Signatory States to the Memorandum of Understanding Concerning Conservation Measures for Marine Turtles of the Atlantic Coast of Africa, Nairobi, Kenya, May 6–9, 2002, Conservation and Management Plan for Marine Turtles of the Atlantic Coast of Africa, available at http://www.cms.int/wrd/en/NBO_Declaration_eng.doc; Convention on Migratory Species, supra note 30, at 18.

[208] See Convention on Migratory Species, supra note 30, at 11–15 (showing that most participants have enacted stringent protective legislation, but that other aspects of the Plan have not been fully implemented).

[209] See, e.g., Barry R. Weingast, The Economic Role of Political Institutions: Market-Preserving Federalism and Economic Development, 11 J.L. Econ. & Org. 1, 6 (1995).

[210] Adequate scientific knowledge is a necessary precursor to an effective policy response. See supra Part IV.B.2; see also John McCormick, The Role of Environmental NGOs in International Regimes, in The Global Environment: Institutions, Law, and Policy 83 (Regina S. Axelrod et al. eds., 2d ed. 2005). Where scientific uncertainty is high, a CMS daughter agreement will face the costs of obtaining the information needed to adequately protect and maintain the migratory species in question. The connection between scientific gaps and funding gaps is illustrated by the MOU for the Conservation of Cetaceeans and Their Habitat in the Pacific Island Region. The most recent Action Plan under the MOU shows that significant information gaps persist; many locations in the region have not been surveyed for presence of cetaceeans. See Convention on Migratory Species, MOU for the Conservation of Cetaceans and Their Habitat in the Pacific Island Region: Whale and Dolphin Action Plan 2009-2012, at 1–2, available at http://www.cms.int/species/pacific_cet/actionplan_2009_2012.pdf. Several of the MOU’s priority action items will require Parties or involved NGOs to undertake additional research, including baseline research on whale population structure, abundance, distribution, and threats; the development and testing of mitigation techniques to reduce by-catch and depredation; and the development of appropriate guidelines to minimize the effect of fishing, ecotourism, and development activities on cetaceans. See id. at 10–13. To meet the high information needs of the MOU, Parties to the agreement rely heavily on outside organizations, including the South Pacific Regional Environment Programme (SPREP) to assist with scientific research. See generally id. (showing that almost all of the research initiatives will be led by SPREP, and the plan itself was based on a plan formulated by SPREP). Many of the Parties to the MOU are small island developing states with few resources to devote to information gathering. See Convention on Migratory Species, supra note 30, at 24 (listing Range States and signatories to the MOU).

[211] The Agreement on African marine turtles suffers from a lack of funding because most of the signatories to these agreements are LDCs with limited resources. See Convention on Migratory Species, supra note 30, at 18 (listing signatories to the agreement); U.N. Office of the High Representative for Least Developed Countries, Landlocked Developing Countries and Small Island Developing States, Least Developed Countries: Country Profiles, http://www.unohrlls.org/en/ldc/related/62/ (last visited Mar. 11, 2011) (listing all LDCs).

[212] See supra note 96; see also Rachel Nuwer, Conservation’s Elephant in the Room: Media Focus on Charismatic, Sexy Animals Loses Sight of the Bigger Picture, ScienceLine, Mar. 10, 2011, http://scienceline.org/2011/03/conservation%E2%80%99s-elephant-in-the-room/ (last visited Mar. 12, 2011) (arguing that the public is more interested in research on and conservation of “charismatic megafauna,” but that scientists can use those creatures to draw attention to less glitzy keystone species in the same habitat). This is particularly true for the agreement on mountain gorillas, which is funded through Party contributions as well as donations from outside organizations. See Gorilla MOU, supra note 6, art. IV.

[213] See U.N. Env’t Programme, Great Ape Survival Project (GRASP): Partners, http://www.unep.org/grasp/Partners/biodiversity.asp (last visited Mar. 12, 2011) (explaining how both conventions have worked together with the GRASP to increase protection of great apes).

[214] See id. (showing cooperation with both conventions and GRASP); Convention on Wetlands Res. VIII.37: International Cooperation on Conservation of Migratory Waterbirds and Their Habitats in the Asia-Pacific Region, 8th Meeting, Valencia, Spain, Nov. 18–26, 2002, http://www.ramsar.org/cda/en/ramsar-documents-resol-resolution-viii-37/main/ramsar/1-31-107%5E21326_4000_0__ (last visited Mar 12, 2011) (“[T]he Convention’s Strategic Plan 1997–2002, [was] intended . . . [to increase] ‘Ramsar’s contribution to international cooperation on shared wetland species, notably through cooperative arrangements with the Convention on Migratory Species, flyway agreements, networks and other mechanisms dealing with migratory species.’”).

[215] See Convention on Migratory Species, A Guide to the Complementarities Between the Convention on Migratory Species and the Convention on Biological Diversity 4, 37, U.N. Doc. UNEP/CBD/COP/5/INF/28 (May 10, 2000), available at http://www.cms.int/pdf/CBD_INF_28.pdf (describing how the Convention on Biodiversity’s financial mechanism has been used to fund CMS projects); see also Memorandum of Understanding between the Bureau of the Convention on Wetlands of International Importance Especially as Waterfowl Habitat (Ramsar Convention) and the Secretariat of the Convention on the Conservation of Migratory Species of Wild Animals (Bonn Convention or CMS) (Feb. 18, 1997), http://www.ramsar.org/cda/en/ramsar-memorandum-of-21281/main/ramsar/1%5E21281_4000_0__ (last visited Mar. 12, 2011) (describing cooperation between the two conventions to achieve goals).

[216] For example, the Convention on Migratory Species receives outside assistance from the European Agricultural and Rural Development Fund, which has helped farmers in the European Union to adopt farming practices that minimize harms to the Great Bustard. See Great Bustard MOU, supra note 170.

[217] See Convention on the Conservation of Migratory Species of Wild Animals, supra note 5, art. V(2).

[218] See Press Release, Convention on Migratory Species, “Elastic Elasmobranchs”—50 Shark Range States Opt for Flexible CMS Agreement in Rome (Dec. 9, 2008), http://www.cms.int/
news/PRESS/nwPR2008/12_Dec/nw101208_sharks_rome.htm (last visited March 12, 2011) (explaining the United States’ leadership role in the action plan); Convention on Migratory Species, supra note 5, at 6 (showing that the United States has not signed the CMS).

[219] See Convention on the Conservation of Migratory Species of Wild Animals, supra note 5, art. VII(4) (requiring that each Party contribute to the CMS budget).

Migration and Conservation: Frameworks, Gaps, and Synergies in Science, Law, and Management

Migration and Conservation: Frameworks, Gaps, and Synergies in Science, Law, and Management

By

Vicky J. Meretsky,* Jonathan W. Atwell** & Jeffrey B. Hyman***

Migratory animals provide unique spectacles of cultural, ecological, and economic importance. However, the process of migration is a source of risk for migratory species as human actions increasingly destroy and fragment habitat, create obstacles to migration, and increase mortality along the migration corridor. As a result, many migratory species are declining in numbers. In the United States, the Endangered Species Act provides some protection against extinction for such species, but no protection until numbers are severely reduced, and no guarantee of recovery to population levels associated with cultural, ecological, or economic significance. Although groups of species receive some protection from statutes such as the Migratory Bird Treaty Act and Marine Mammal Protection Act, there is no coordinated system for conservation of migratory species. In addition, information needed to protect migratory species is often lacking, limiting options for land and wildlife managers who seek to support these species. In this Article, we outline the existing scientific, legal, and management information and approaches to migratory species. Our objective is to assess present capacity to protect the species and the phenomenon of migration, and we argue that all three disciplines are necessary for effective conservation. We find significant capacity to support conservation in all three disciplines, but no organization around conservation of migration within any discipline or among the three disciplines. Areas of synergy exist among the disciplines but not as a result of any attempt for coordination. As a result, significant gaps in information and capacity exist that must be addressed if effective conservation of migratory species is to be undertaken. We suggest that all three disciplines cooperate to identify the most pressing research needs, so that these can become targets for relevant funding sources. We identify areas of current risk to migratory species that represent gaps in current legal protections: protective legislation that provides no guidelines for desirable population sizes or best management practices for migratory species, taxonomic groups, particularly those including long-distance migrants, for which no agency has oversight, and gaps in policies to address impacts of fragmentation and obstacles such as power lines and wind turbines that curtail migration or cause mortality. Finally, we suggest that state-level programs provide either a foundation to augment with, or a model on which to build, conservation efforts targeting migratory species. Problems will arise due to lack of funds, difficulties in securing a landscape that will support abundant migrations, lack of adequate standards and best management practices, and an insufficient culture of collaboration among the three main relevant disciplines. However, we view these problems as entirely soluble and see evidence of support in society at large for conservation of migratory species.

I. Introduction

Migratory species once created some of the biggest natural spectacles on the planet: flocks of migrating birds that darkened the skies,[1] migrations of antelope and bison that covered African and North American grasslands from horizon to horizon,[2] sea turtles in the Caribbean so dense that “it seemed that the ships would run aground on them.”[3] Abundance made many of these species attractive targets for hunters and fishers. Some, such as the passenger pigeon (Ectopistes migratorius), have been lost;[4] others were rescued from extinction when public outcry led to changes in laws protecting them.[5] In the United States, the Lacey Act[6] and the Migratory Bird Treaty Act (MBTA)[7] helped bring to a close the unregulated market hunting of waterfowl and shorebirds and the more focused—but no more sustainable—hunting of migratory waterbirds and songbirds for the millinery trade in ladies’ hats.[8]

If the abundance of many migratory species once made them obvious targets for hunting, the movements of migratory species now place them at risk due to loss of habitat, barriers to movement, and mortality from obstacles, pollution, as well as legal and illegal hunting. However, in the absence of evidence of overwhelming mortality such as preceded the MBTA, little additional protection has been extended to these species that run their respective migratory gauntlets year in and year out. At one time, immensely effective protection was afforded one large taxon[9] (birds) simply by modifying one activity (hunting). To seek, now, to protect the wide variety of migratory taxa at levels that allow them to be ecologically relevant and to continue to provide phenomena of abundance requires modifying many aspects of human undertakings.

There is room for optimism, however. Public interest in migration and migratory species is strong. Students learn geography studying the travels of migratory monarch butterflies (Danaus plexippus), and interact with their peers in other nations.[10] Touring companies and town festivals profit from our ongoing fascination with the phenomenon of migration.[11] Yet numbers of many migratory species continue to decline.[12]

Changing the conservation landscape to improve protection of migratory species is a complex undertaking. Effective conservation of migrants requires coordinated work by researchers, lawyers and policy makers, and natural resource managers. In this Article, we begin by describing the frameworks used in these three disciplines to categorize migrations and migratory species. These discussions are intended to be descriptive, rather than critical, as no one discipline of the three can be, or claims to be, a complete solution to the problem of conservation of migratory species. Throughout, we seek to communicate the information of all three fields in terms accessible to researchers studying any aspect of migration—legal scholars, who study patterns and trends in legal practice; legal practitioners, who work on behalf of clients to interpret and make use of aspects of the legal system; land managers, who manage wildlife on their properties; and wildlife managers, who are responsible for conservation and management of wildlife species without regard to property boundaries.

We then use these frameworks to identify areas of synergy where disciplines approach the subject of migration in complementary ways and support conservation. In particular, several of the distinctions that arise out of research, such as whether migrants concentrate along a narrow migratory route or disperse across a broad front, are important distinctions for policy and management. Not surprisingly, however, the frameworks of the three disciplines are not entirely overlapping, and we identify gaps where differences in approaches weaken conservation of these species. For example, research does not provide strong population estimates for many migratory species, but even where such information is available, it is rarely incorporated into policy in a way that protects migratory species at population levels that ensure ecological relevance.

Finally, we suggest ways of advancing work in all three disciplines individually and collaboratively to improve conservation of migrations and migratory species. We recommend increased communication and collaboration among the disciplines, generally, but also recommend a focused exercise, such as a regularly scheduled conference or workshop, to identify pressing questions of policy makers and managers that could become funding targets for public and private funding sources. We suggest that state-level programs provide either a foundation to augment, or a model on which to build, conservation efforts targeting migratory species. Federal coordination could help to organize regional and national landscape protections; commitment to management standards and practices would ensure consistency. We view most problems associated with conservation of migration as entirely soluble and see evidence of support for conservation of migratory species in society at large.

Part II, the first of our disciplinary parts, delineates the breadth of natural diversity that comes under the umbrella of migration, describing the kinds of migratory species and varieties of migratory behaviors defined by scientific research. Research on migration is often oriented around taxonomic, ecological, and evolutionary areas of interest. Taxonomic focus may be at levels as narrow as individual populations or as broad as all vertebrates. Ecological studies related to migration examine relationships between organisms and their physical and biological environments during part or all of a migration cycle. Evolutionary inquiries track the evolution of mechanisms that underlie physical, ecological, and social aspects of migration.

Part II.A explores the boundaries of what is meant by migration. Part II.B explains those ecological and environmental factors that motivate species to migrate. The ways in which migration can proceed across the land, through the air, or through the water are described in Part II.C. The question of which characteristics of individuals—gender, physical condition, age—are associated with migration is dealt with in Part II.D. Part II.E explains how the seasonal timing of migration is determined and affected. Part II.F discusses the balance of genetic nature and the environmental impacts of nurture and learning in shaping migratory behavior—including how navigation during migration occurs. Finally, in Part II.G, we describe the likely future directions of migration research, which are strongly affected by recent advances in technology. The body of knowledge outlined in this Part reveals variety among migratory species in virtually all aspects of migration, from its evolutionary beginnings, to the demographics of the individual migrants, to the manner and scale of the geographic movements of migration. Understanding the diversity encompassed by migratory species is necessary in order to develop and implement appropriate policies and management approaches for their conservation.

Part III examines existing legal approaches to protection of biodiversity, broadly, to determine where there is support for conservation of migrations and migratory species. In acknowledgement of the number and diversity of laws, cases, and regulations, Part III is exemplary, rather than exhaustive—describing categories of laws, not enumerating individual laws. These categories are not mutually exclusive and serve to organize existing law, not to impose sharp distinctions. Part III.A considers possibilities for supporting conservation through funding and capacity building to many kinds of actors. Individuals and organizations vary considerably in their funding and training; by broadening and leveling the field, statutes and the programs they authorize advance what is possible in conservation of migratory species. Part III.A also discusses coordination and information exchange as means of capacity building. Part III.B focuses more narrowly on federal incentives for conservation at the state level. Most wildlife management is the responsibility of state wildlife agencies; these statutes provide a means of manipulating state agendas in favor of migratory wildlife and building capacity, generally. Part III.C deals with the single tool of habitat acquisition, a necessary but insufficient approach for conserving wildlife, and thus, of conserving migratory species. Part III.D describes legal controls on actions that harm species whether by direct mortality or indirectly through harm to habitat. Part III.E discusses statutes that mandate measurable standards or defined management practices to avoid harm to individuals or populations of wildlife. Such firm standards and guidelines are rare in conservation law.

Part IV, the last disciplinary part, develops three different typologies related to management of migratory species. Part IV.A explains the legal authority that enables and constrains land and wildlife management in federal and state lands and waters. The strictures of organic legislation and related interpretative policies, public trust doctrine, and wildlife law bind both the existing responsibilities to migratory species and the possibilities for enlarging or enhancing those responsibilities. Part IV.B describes the tools that land and wildlife managers use to meet their responsibilities, thus casting additional light on what options are available on the ground (or in the air or water) for conserving migratory species. Finally, Part IV.C explores the categories of migrants and migrations that are of primary interest to land and wildlife managers.

In Part V, we begin to bring together aspects of the three disciplines; in Part V.A we describe complementary aspects of the three frameworks—areas where approaches and categories have commonalities. Often, these commonalities strengthen conservation of migratory species, or at least indicate potential for such strength. In contrast, in Part V.B we enumerate important areas where the disciplines fail to work together, where gaps or cross-purposes weaken efforts to conserve migratory species. We indicate where such incongruities may represent opportunities for focusing applied science or for improving or enlarging on law and management practice. We review aspects of practice within each discipline that prevent effective conservation of migratory species, and discuss possible solutions. In these two Parts, we find that although science has much to offer both policy and management, it too seldom consults with those disciplines in seeking targets for research. To some extent, this failure is owing to the focus of much of the present research funding on basic research that advances knowledge generally, rather than on applied research to address particular, possibly less fascinating information needs of policy makers and managers. A portion of the failure is also owing to the lack of capacity in management, in particular, to undertake some of its own research and to build collaborative partnerships with applied scientists in academia.

We recommend increased communication and collaboration among the disciplines, generally, but also a focused exercise, such as a regularly scheduled conference or workshop, to identify pressing questions of policy makers and managers that could become funding targets for public and private funding sources. Policy makers incorporate useful aspects of science and management in building conservation laws, but fail to address specific threats of particular concern in conservation of migratory species, including habitat fragmentation, and obstacles that prevent migration outright, such as fences and dams, obstacles that increase mortality such as roads, channelized river segments, wind turbines, and transmission towers.

The political landscape of jurisdiction over migratory species is a bewildering array of agencies, many of which do not count wildlife conservation among their primary responsibilities. Even with this welter of jurisdictions, most migration routes are only partly protected, leaving gaps where migratory species must find their way in potentially hostile landscapes and waterscapes. In addition, only a scant few statutes set population goals for migratory wildlife and fish species that allow their migrations to retain ecologically meaningful roles or migrate in numbers sufficient to constitute phenomena of abundance. These few statues, however, provide models of what such goals might resemble, and scientists and managers can inform efforts to build on these models.

Finally, in properly leaving details of land and species management to the expertise of agencies to include in interpretive policies, policy makers fail to require the development of standards and management practices to ensure efficient and effective conservation, and they fail to require suitable timeframes for their implementation. Without such requirements, agencies cannot be held accountable for meeting legislative goals. Where research suggests firm standards and best management practices, policy makers should require their implementation in a timely fashion; where such standards and practices are incompletely known, policy makers can direct agencies to identify and implement them in a timely fashion.

In Part V.C we consider the totality of conservation efforts on behalf of migratory species. We present ideas for programmatic approaches to conservation of these species, building on the concept of “keeping common species common” that has been used in at least two major conservation undertakings to date. We suggest that state-level programs provide either a foundation to augment with, or a model on which to build, conservation efforts targeting migratory species. Problems will arise due to lacks of funds, difficulties in securing a landscape that will support abundant migrations, lack of adequate standards and best management practices, and an insufficient culture of collaboration among the three main relevant disciplines. However, we view these problems as entirely soluble. Further, we see evidence in society at large of support for conservation of migratory species, even in troubled economic times. Such public support could greatly advance conservation of migratory species through increased funding, public oversight, citizen science, and increased private-lands participation.

II. Existing Ecological Typologies of Migration

Aphids, bats, caribou, dolphins, elephants, fish, giraffes, and hummingbirds—such are just a few examples of the hundreds of animal taxa, together encompassing tens of thousands of individual species that demonstrate some type of migratory behavior.[13] Although migratory organisms share the unique and fundamental “need to move,” the variety of migratory animals and the diverse characteristics of their particular migrations require careful consideration if effective generalizations and distinctions are to be made in the context of law, policy, and management strategies. Focusing conservation agendas on protecting or restoring the phenomena of migration will require cross-disciplinary dialogue about fundamental but complicated questions such as, “What is a migration?,” “Which types of migrations are currently most imperiled?,” or “Are certain categories of migrations ecologically more valuable than others?”

Such communication among scientists, policy makers, legal scholars and practitioners, and wildlife managers will require a basic and shared summary understanding of the biological frameworks used by scientists to discuss the diversity of migratory phenomena. Accordingly, our goal in this Part is to present an overview of concepts, definitions, and questions used to characterize, categorize, and further investigate migrations and their underlying biological and environmental mechanisms. The emphasis will not be on comprehensively enumerating specific scientific terminology or jargon—which is often further specific to the study of particular animal taxa. Instead, we aim to introduce key concepts and vocabulary, and to provide brief examples that illustrate what kinds of ecological divisions among types of migrations have already been made that might help inform future scientific, legal, policy, and management agendas targeting the conservation of migrations.

The degree to which typologies and examples are inequitably representative of various animal groups generally reflects the historical trajectory of scientific interest in migrations. As arguably the most abundant and diverse migrants that are easy to observe, birds garnered early attention from researchers of migration. The study of bird migrations was followed by studies of mammal migrations. More recently, the migrations of fish, insects, and marine mammals have received greater attention. The degree to which terminology can be used interchangeably across different types of animals is not always clear, but basic common sense and thorough exposition should suffice.

A. What Is Migration?

“Migration might be one of the great wonders of the natural world, but as a biological concept it is surprisingly fluid and elusive.”[14]

If law, policy, and management strategies are to be developed to address the conservation of migrations, a working answer to the question “What is migration?” needs to be formulated. On the surface, migrations might be defined simply as organisms moving from place to place on a seasonal or annual basis, but a more detailed consideration of what does—and what does not—constitute a migration quickly reveals that this is not an easy distinction. In fact, certain non-animal organisms (e.g., plants or fungi) make movements such as seasonal dispersal of seeds via water or air that could be considered as “migration” under some definitions.[15] Even among animals, great variation in the timing, distance, and motivation underlying movements makes general definitions of migration challenging. Early efforts to formally define migration were arguably quite effective for their simplicity, and they may be very relevant for conservation policy. For example, “true migrations” according to Landsborough Thomson, an ornithologist, were defined as “changes of habitat, periodically recurring and alternating in direction, which tend to secure optimal environmental conditions at all times.”[16] Such optimal conditions might include milder air, water, or soil temperatures, availability of food or water, lack of predators or diseases, suitable habitats for breeding (e.g., nesting substrates for birds or calmer waters for whale calves), or some combination of the above. Importantly, this definition of migration does not specify or discriminate based on distance traveled or the types of organisms that qualify. Instead, the emphasis in Thomson’s definition is placed on 1) a change in habitat, 2) a seasonal phenology, and 3) a “to-and-fro passage.”[17] Certainly, many important and familiar migrations such as those made by songbirds, waterfowl, shorebirds, and seabirds that winter farther south and return each spring to breed at higher latitudes would be included in such a definition.

However appealing, though, this definition could exclude many stunning and extensive animal movements that serve equally important ecological functions. In particular, less spatially or temporally predictable migrations such as the seminomadic circular roamings that were once exhibited by American bison (Bison bison),[18] or those that require multiple generations for the return trip as is the case for many species of moths or butterflies, including the classic monarch butterfly journey,[19] could arguably fail to meet these criteria of migration. Conversely, in the open ocean, billions of organisms ranging from plankton to squid to sharks make daily to-and-fro movements through the water column to the surface and back down again in order to exploit optimal conditions.[20] These could qualify as migrations under Thomson’s definition, yet such movements are clearly of a different variety than those that occur only once per year and span continents, especially in the context of conservation policy and management.

These examples highlight the need for formal conceptualizations that are not restricted to round-trip migrations, but that are also not so broad as to lack all heuristic utility.[21] In an effort to identify more encompassing but nevertheless useful criteria, biologists studying migrations have identified traits that distinguish animal migrations from other movements that happen on more local spatial scales and on a daily or weekly basis. These more frequent and localized “station-keeping” movements (which ultimately maintain a similar spatial position relative to the origin) include foraging (e.g., daily movements in search of food), commuting (e.g., daily movements to and away from roost sites each evening), and territorial defense (e.g., patrolling of territory boundaries).[22] Ranging describes exploratory movements in search of suitable habitat or exploitable resources. Dispersal (e.g., natal dispersion in birds and mammals), which typically refers to unidirectional movement that also ceases once suitable habitat is found, may or may not be considered migration, perhaps depending on how well it fits other proposed criteria that distinguish migrations. Nomadic migration or nomadism includes animal movements that are not simply to-and-fro, and may appear as random wanderings, but that likely involve movements between known areas of suitable resources.[23] Examples of nomadic migrants include the above mentioned American bison that circuited North America in search of fresh prairie grasses[24] and Cedar Waxwings (songbirds) (Bombycilla cedrorum) that roam in search of ripe berry crops.[25]

Migration, in contrast to localized station-keeping movements, has been more specifically defined as a specialized behavior that not only involves shifts in habitat in search of optimal conditions, but that also meets at least some of the following five criteria: 1) persistent movement that is greater in duration than the local station-keeping or ranging movements of the same species; 2) straightened-out movement that is more direct than station-keeping or ranging behaviors; 3) some temporary inhibition of local station-keeping or ranging movements; 4) distinct activities and behaviors observed in association with arrival and departure; and 5) shifts in energy allocation, storage, or usage to facilitate the journey.[26] Importantly, under these criteria, migrations do not necessarily have to cover long distances or include to-and-fro journeys, and they are not restricted only to annual phenomena, but they must involve periods of movement that are more distinct and demanding than the regular station-keeping or ranging movements of the same species.

To date, we are unaware of any systematic efforts to formally define or qualify what is or what is not “migration” in the context of law, policy, or management, yet these clarifications may be an important part of future efforts to justify, categorize, clarify, or prioritize particular migrations that are most relevant for conservation efforts. However, as Professors Fischman and Hyman discuss in their treatment of “migration as a phenomenon of abundance,” to-and-fro migrations, dispersals, or even ranging may be equally important in the context of conservation,[27] based on the degree to which they encompass the ecological, economic, and cultural value targeted by future efforts. Nevertheless, we propose continued consideration of what distinguishes those animal movements deemed migrations (that are likely to be the intended targets of conservation efforts) from the general occurrences of organisms moving about.

B. Why Migrate?

By definition, migrants move in search of better environmental conditions, but there is great diversity in the specific characteristics of the environment that vary between origin and destination, and hence there are many different reasons animals migrate. These reasons may be simple or complex, but a solid ecological understanding of the resources and habitat characteristics that contribute to make migration an adaptive behavioral strategy must be available in order for effective conservation strategies to be drafted. More hospitable conditions targeted by migrants can include abiotic environmental factors such as temperature, moisture (including humidity and precipitation), salinity, elevation, storms, windy air conditions, or rough water conditions. Biotic factors that may lead to migration as an adaptive strategy could include the availability of specific food resources required by adults or offspring, or the avoidance of predators, diseases, or competing species whose distributions vary in space and time. Social competition for resources among members of the same population or species can also lead to the evolution of migratory phenomena. Of course, these types of abiotic and biotic factors are often correlated, and many migrations are likely prompted by more than one environmental variable. Thus, although several terms have been formalized to categorize migrations based on the apparent answer to the question “Why migrate?,” these are not mutually exclusive.

Many fish species, for example, are termed reproductive migrants,[28] a term widely applicable across taxa, because they migrate in order to find suitable reproductive habitat, in many cases moving between separate spawning, feeding, and nursery grounds. Breeding habitats for reproductive migrants are likely to have fewer predators to threaten the offspring or specific food resources required by the young. Classic reproductive migrants include Chinook salmon (Oncorhynchus tshawytscha) and related species that hatch in the rivers of the United States Pacific Northwest before heading out to sea as adults.[29] Usually after three to four years in the ocean, they return to their natal sites to lay eggs before dying, swimming upstream in rivers that are now often obstructed by hydroelectric dams.[30] Many species of birds, mammals, and insects could also be considered reproductive migrants, and the term most commonly, but not exclusively, applies to seasonal to-and-fro movements.

Reproductive migrations can be contrasted with refuging migrations,[31] which are undertaken for primarily nonreproductive purposes; these migrants seek habitats that provide a refuge from harsh climates, predators, disease, or intense competition. One such example is the molt migrations that are exhibited by certain birds.[32] Although most bird species molt in sequence and continue to fly throughout the process, some species, especially certain ducks, geese, and swans, can become flightless during molt. For example, the largely resident Common Shelduck (Tadorna tadorna) that is found throughout Western Europe and the British Isles, makes seasonal movements in huge flocks (up to 100,000 individuals) to safer molting grounds on the Wadden Sea and North German coast where individuals remain mostly flightless for up to thirty days as they replace their feathers.[33] Another type of refuging migration involves seasonal movements to sites for hibernation (to avoid cold conditions, as in many mammals) or aestivation (to avoid heat and aridity, as in many insects, aquatic invertebrates, reptiles, and amphibians). For example, the endangered Indiana bat (Myotis sodalis) lives and breeds throughout the Eastern United States in the summer, but migrates in large numbers to hibernate in caves, although specific patterns of migratory connectivity are unknown.[34] Many insects migrate to sites for aestivation, including the Australian bogong moths (Agrotis infusa) that fatten up before migrating by the millions to higher elevation caves to aestivate during the hot and dry summer months.[35]

Removal migration, a term which could be used similarly to “dispersal,” refers specifically to those migrations in which the animals do not come back to the habitat they are leaving, usually due to inhospitable abiotic, biotic, or social conditions. These inhospitable conditions could include environmental changes such as floods, droughts, colonization of invasive species, or situations in which the local population has become too big, and groups leave to find less competitive habitat. Many removal migrations are likely to be too spatially and temporally unpredictable to become targets of conservation, but some likely follow predictable cycles that could be relevant for conservation or management efforts targeting migration. For example, the short-horned grasshoppers of the family Acrididae are removal migrants that breed rapidly under suitable conditions, but then become gregarious and migratory as adult “locust” forms that travel great distances in search of habitats with sufficient food.[36]

C. The Geography of Migration

Just as the types of animal forms that migrate are incredibly diverse, so are the geographic patterns and scales attributed to animal migrations with respect to the distances traveled and habitats utilized. Accordingly, biologists have categorized and defined certain types of migrations based on their biogeographic and habitat characteristics.

Among migratory birds for example, ornithologists have categorized several types of migrations with respect to distance traveled and the biogeographic context. Long-distance migrants, which make up approximately 1800 of the world’s more than 10,000 bird species,[37] are usually considered to be birds whose annual movements traverse continents, making journeys of many hundreds or thousands of kilometers.[38] Examples include more than 300 species of birds that travel from their breeding grounds in the northern latitudes in North America to spend the winter in the Caribbean, Central or South America, or Africa.[39] This common north-south pattern amongst avian species is also termed latitudinal migration, which is also common in whales and certain insects. Although some migrations are “longitudinal” in their geography, this term is not generally applied because broad-scale ecological and climatic gradients do not follow a predictable longitudinal pattern. Some long-distance migrants traverse the globe itself, as is the case for some populations of the Red Knot (Calidris canutus), which flies each year from Baffin Island north of the Arctic Circle, all the way to Tierra del Fuego on the tip of South America.[40] The Red Knots are considered coastal migrants, as they generally follow the shoreline, in contrast to pelagic migrants, such as petrels and albatrosses, whose journeys cross expanses of open ocean. Coastal versus pelagic distinctions are also made among migratory aquatic animals.

In contrast to long-distance migrants, short-distance, short-range, or regional migrations among birds are those annual movements that span some hundreds of kilometers, as exemplified by species including Eastern Bluebirds (Sialia sialis) and Red-winged Blackbirds (Agelaius phoeniceus) that move shorter regional distances south for the winter.[41] Altitudinal migrants are those animals whose seasonal movements traverse the clines of mountains, plateaus, or similar topographic features, typically moving downslope in winter and returning to higher elevations to breed. Sedentary or resident animals, such as Florida Scrub-Jays (Aphelocoma coerulescens), Western Scrub-Jays (Aphelocoma californica), or Northern Cardinals (Cardinalis cardinalis), are non-migratory, remaining on the same territories year round.

Among fish species, the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea has formally designated some highly migratory species (HMS).[42] The designation is apparently related to the distances covered by these species, although the convention gives no operational criteria for designation.[43] Tuna and their relatives, pomfret, marlin, sailfish, swordfish, suary, sharks, dolphins, and other whales are on the HMS list because they have wide geographic distributions that often traverse the exclusive economic zones (EEZs) of multiple countries.[44] The characteristic movements of these various HMS species, however, are diverse, and include latitudinal, regional, coastal, and pelagic migrations undertaken for various purposes such as finding refuge from predators, spatially or temporally dynamic food resources, or suitable breeding grounds.

Determination of which species should be considered “long-distance” versus “short-range” migrants should be made relative to members of similar animal groups, which vary widely in the absolute distance of their migrations. Whereas the longest bird and whale migrations cover 35,000  kilometers (e.g., Arctic Terns, Sterna paradisaea)[45] and 15,000 kilometers (e.g., gray whales, Eschrichtius robustus),[46] respectively, the longest land mammal migrations (e.g., caribou, Rangifer tarandus, circa 1000 kilometers)[47] and insect migrations (e.g., monarch butterflies, circa 3500 kilometers)[48] are much shorter.

In addition to geographic distance traveled, categorizations could be made regarding the altitudes at which migrants fly or float, or the depths at which they swim or drift. Although, like airplane pilots, birds or insects will vary their flight altitude depending on the best wind conditions, some species typically travel at higher altitudes than others. Shorebirds and seabirds, for example, will commonly travel altitudes of 2000 to 4000 meters, whereas passerine songbirds and raptors typically fly below 800 meters.[49] Great variation exists, however, even among closely related species. While some waterfowl migrate at low altitudes, others have set altitude records, including the Bar-headed Goose (Anser indicus), which crosses the Himalayan Mountains at over 9000 meters.[50] Similarly, the aquatic depths at which particular species or taxa of fish or whales migrate could provide useful generalizations in the context of conservation or management.

Aquatic animal movements also vary systematically in the types of habitat utilized, such as potadromous, denoting those that occur only in fresh water (e.g., Colorado pike minnow, Ptychocheilus lucius); oceanodromous, denoting those that occur only in salt water (e.g., beluga whales, Delphinapterus leucas); and diadromous, denoting those that travel between both salt and fresh water.[51] Among diadromous animals, further distinctions are made between those that live primarily in marine environments but breed in fresh water (anadromous; e.g., Chinook salmon),[52] those that live primarily in fresh water but breed in the ocean (catadromous; e.g., American eel, Anguilla rostrata),[53] and those that move between fresh and salt water during their life cycle, but not in association with reproduction (amphidromous; e.g., bull shark, Carcharhinus leucas).[54]

Another important biogeographic distinction applicable across taxa refers to whether a particular migration is broad-fronted or narrow-fronted. Broad-fronted migrations are those in which animals move towards their destinations across relatively wide geographic areas, as opposed to narrow-fronted migrations in which movements are confined to relatively narrow corridors of travel.[55] The pattern of migratory front may be determined by specialized stop-over habitat requirements (or lack thereof), or physical features of the landscape such a mountains, ridges, coastlines, bodies of water, ocean currents, or wind patterns, all of which could serve as physical obstacles, navigational landmarks, or provide physical assistance (e.g., winds, currents). A given migration also could include both narrow-fronted and broad-fronted phases; for example, a migration that is facilitated by departing and arriving in wider breeding and wintering ranges, but is forced through more narrow corridors along the way. This is suspected to be the case for many species of migratory birds that breed in northern forests and winter in the tropics but require stopover sites or follow coastlines during their journey.[56] The migration may begin and end as more broad-fronted, but may narrow as flocks navigate along a coastline or follow ever diminishing patches of suitable habitat during their journey.[57]

A final important point with respect to the geography of migrations is that among populations and among individuals within a population, there can be variation in the distances traveled and routes taken. The importance of understanding geographic patterns of migratory connectivity for specific populations, as well as for cohorts of individuals within a population is more fully explored in other articles in this issue, including Marra et al.’s treatment of migratory connectivity,[58] and Atwell et al.’s exploration of within-species variation.[59]

D. Who Migrates?

Identifying important migrations and understanding their ecological underpinnings and geographic patterns is an important first step. However, even within migratory species, great variation exists in the demographic and social patterns of who migrates and who migrates with whom, and this variation likely has important consequences for conservation policy and management agendas. In some species, this variation is relatively well understood; for example in the Dark-eyed Junco songbird (Junco hyemalis).[60] However, in most species the demography and sociality of migration are not well understood. We introduce these concepts briefly here.[61]

Complete migration refers to scenarios where virtually all members of a species or population make the journey, leaving behind breeding ranges during the non-breeding season.[62] Complete migrants are typically those animals that inhabit seasonally harsh climates, which reduces the likelihood that some populations or individuals remain sedentary or migrate only partially away from the breeding grounds. Arctic terns are unambiguously complete migrants that spend their entire year in summer, alternating between northern and southern polar regions, making the longest known migration round trip of more than 40,000 kilometers.[63] The term “complete migration” can be used to refer to species in which all identifiable populations move, or the same term can be used in the context of a single population or subspecies.

In contrast, partial migration denotes that not all members of a species or population move, with some individuals or populations remaining sedentary with only local movements.[64] Partial migration is likely the most common variety of migration, exhibited in many taxa from insects to fish to birds,[65] and it is likely much more widespread than has been historically realized.[66] Few species have been examined closely enough to determine whether some populations or individuals are in fact migratory or sedentary. This phenomenon is probably more common in less extreme climates and when species’ breeding ranges are larger, such that some populations or individuals benefit by migrating whereas for others it is most beneficial to remain on their territories year-round. For example, in the Aldabran giant tortoise (Geochelone gigantea) of the Seychelles islands, a portion of the population migrates to the coast at the beginning of the rainy season, where the payoff is a richer food source with the cost of having less shade where overheating can be fatal.[67]

Differential migration, which is not mutually exclusive from partial or complete migration, refers to different patterns of movement made by different cohorts of individuals within a population (i.e., variation in distance or route among those who migrate).[68] Differential migration typically involves different patterns of movement by males versus females or young versus old cohorts.[69] The phenomenon has been observed across taxa, including birds, fish, mammals, and insects.[70] For example, in American eels, females migrate farther upstream than males, dominating the headwater rivers and lakes, leaving the estuarine rivers to be dominated by males.[71]

Among migrating groups of animals there is variation in the size and composition of traveling groups. This could be termed the “sociality of migration.” While some animal movements clearly fit the designation of “migration as a phenomena of abundance” described previously,[72] others do not. Some migrate long distances essentially alone, as is the case for juvenile Wandering Albatrosses (Diamedea exulans) that make solo journeys across the Southern Ocean.[73] Others form huge unmistakable assemblages that function as large inclusive social groups, such as the tens of thousands of African wildebeests (Connochaetes gnou; C. taurinus) that herd together in search of food and water. Recent research has suggested that large groups of animals moving together, whether birds, fish, or caribou, display emergent social properties (i.e., “swarm intelligence”) that may help them respond collectively to obstacles or predators.[74] Some animals migrate in mixed species groups, as is the case for many songbirds, especially the wood warblers and blackbirds, which are known to travel in flocks likely to be made up of adults and young from several related species.[75] And recent evidence from birds shows that interspecific communication about hazards such as predators is possible,[76] so it is likely that the same benefits of travelling as a social group may apply to mixed-species assemblages. Other species of birds such as Common Nighthawks (Chordeiles minor) and Common Crows (Corvus brachyrhynchos) are known to stick to smaller single-species companies.[77] Whether or not animals are differential migrants with respect to their final destinations, they may travel in groups segregated by age or sex that travel simultaneously or at separate times. In many bird species, adults depart the breeding grounds earlier than juveniles in the fall, and males embark upon spring migration sooner than females in order to arrive on the breeding grounds first.[78] Thus cohorts of young and old or male and female may travel separately, even though they end up in the same places.

E. The Timing of Migration

Almost by definition, migrations are associated with some type of temporally variable, spatially distributed environmental conditions. Thus, in order for the movements to be advantageous, precise timing is required. Although many annual migrations are temporally coordinated with the changing seasons, not all migrations follow these simple annual cycles, and it is important to understand the temporal patterns of migration exhibited by different species, as well as the environmental cues that individuals use to initiate migration at the correct time.

The environmental cues that animals use to make seasonal timing decisions, such as when to breed and when to migrate, have been relatively well-studied in birds, mammals, insects, and other species. Primary cues, such as changes in day length (photoperiod),[79] provide reliable but imprecise information about the changing season.[80] Other cues, called supplementary cues, such as temperature, rainfall, food availability, or social environment, allow animals to fine tune their decisions about when to initiate or terminate migratory activities.[81] In many animals studied to date, neuro-endocrine and peripheral hormonal control systems have been identified that integrate primary and supplementary environmental cues, leading to physiological and behavioral changes associated with seasonal transitions such as breeding and migration.[82] In the context of conservation, this means that the timing mechanisms for migration could be altered by any environmental pollutants that disrupt these physiological mechanisms, for example by acting as endocrine-disrupting compounds (EDCs). Further, although photoperiod is a relatively stable cue (with the possible exception of artificial light pollution), many supplementary cues such as temperature are affected by human activities, and evidence suggests that contemporary climate change has led to the mis-timing of migration and breeding with optimal food resources in certain birds.[83]

With respect to the frequency of migration, obligate migrations are those that are not optional and hence must be undertaken every year for the given species or population to survive. This term is similar to complete migration but refers more to the timing rather than the extent of the migration. In contrast, facultative migrations are those that typically show annual variation in whether or not their migrations occur at all—that is, migration seems to be optional based on the relative state of the environmental conditions. This appears to be the case for many insects, such as the genus of noctuid moths (Heliothis spp.), which migrate variable distances in response to poor local conditions and favorable winds that facilitate the migration to new crops of food.[84] Both obligate and facultative migrants are common across a wide range of taxa.

Similarly to facultative migrations, irruptive migrations are those described as seasonally and geographically unpredictable, usually in response to highly variable food resources. Irruptive migrants are often described as exhibiting nomadism, and examples include boreal finches (forest-dwelling songbirds) that depend on fluctuating tree-fruit crops, as well as certain owls that depend on fluctuating rodent populations.[85] Both of these groups make regional migrations of hundreds or even thousands of kilometers between breeding seasons, and it is often unclear the degree to which they may follow geographically or temporally predictable patterns at scales beyond the scope of research to date.

Although many typical migrations involve individuals traveling twice each year—from breeding to wintering grounds and back again—other migrations involve more complicated individual lifecycles. Itinerant breeders, for example, are species that breed more than once each season in different locations, with some apparently making an additional migration between breeding sites (i.e., three migrations each year instead of two). This phenomenon has been documented in just a few species of birds such as the African Red-billed Quelea (Quelea quelea)[86] and the Phainopepla (Phainopepla nitens), a songbird of the Southwestern United States and Mexico,[87] but these species are relatively nomadic, with unpredictable migratory routes and breeding and wintering locations. More recently, stable isotope data has provided evidence suggesting that at least five species of Neotropical migrant songbirds stop to breed a second time at an intermediate point on their long journey south—therefore making three distinct migrations each year—a term the researchers described as “migratory double brooding.”[88]

Although many migratory trips follow annual to-and-fro patterns, other round-trip migrations can take several years, or even multiple generations, to be completed. In some cases a given individual only completes one leg of a multi-stage journey. This is true for the iconic monarch butterfly migration, in which northern populations migrate south where they overwinter and lay eggs the following spring before dying, with the subsequent second, third, and fourth generations journeying increasingly farther north towards the northernmost breeding grounds.[89] In several diadromous fish species such as Chinook salmon, each surviving individual will eventually complete migration back upriver to spawn and die, but several years typically pass between the initial migration from the spawning grounds to the ocean and the return trip back upstream.[90]

In addition to temporal variation among migrants in the frequency and seasonal timing of migration, there is also variation in time of travel during the day, and whether or not stops are made along the way—both important characteristics directly relevant to mitigating the effects of anthropogenic obstacles and habitat destruction on migrating animals. For example, many animals species are known to migrate almost entirely during the night (e.g., bats; most songbirds),[91] whereas others migrate exclusively during the day (e.g., most ungulates; raptors).[92]

Some animals are able to make astounding nonstop efforts during migration. A recent tracking study of Red Knots (shorebirds) documented one individual flying an astounding 5000 miles nonstop over just six days.[93] In contrast, other animals require frequent stops to refuel along the way.[94]

F. Genetics, Learning, and Navigation

For many biological characteristics, scientists aim to understand whether variation among individuals, among species, or among years is likely attributable to genetic differences or development under different environmental conditions. Accordingly this question is important for understanding migratory biology: to what degree is variation in migratory behavior or physiology attributable to different genes versus different environmental conditions? These distinctions have important implications for conservation for two reasons. The first is if migratory characteristics have a strong genetic basis, individuals cannot change, but the population as a whole may be able to rapidly evolve in response to changing environmental conditions over the course of a few generations—but only if sufficient genetic variation exists. Importantly, this fact does not always favor the persistence of migration, as a species or population could quickly evolve reduced migratory tendencies.[95] The second is if migrations have a strong environmental basis, then individuals could exhibit behavioral responses to changing environmental conditions, but not necessarily in an adaptive direction. That is, not all behavioral changes of individual animals that might result from changing environments will help them cope, as some behavioral responses could actually further imperil the survival of individuals and the persistence of populations or migrations.[96]

In general, where researchers have looked, they have found evidence suggesting a strong genetic basis for the timing and duration of migratory behavior and physiology. For example, population differences in migratory dispositions among migratory and non-migratory populations persist in several species of birds (e.g., Blackcap Warbler, Sylvia atricapilla),[97] insects (e.g., cowpea weevils, Callosobruchus maculatus),[98] and mammals (e.g., European vole, Microtus agrestis),[99] even when individuals were all raised under common environmental conditions in captivity.[100] Further, migratory behavior can evolve rapidly in artificial selection studies[101] and it exhibits high heritability across generations.[102] Nevertheless, there is also evidence that migration is apparently sensitive to environmental changes as evidenced by species exhibiting facultative migrations, as well as captive studies showing that modulating temperature or light availability can induce changes in the migratory behavior of individuals.[103] For migration, like most traits, the answer to the question “Nature or nurture?” is clearly “Both.” But understanding to what degree environmental versus genetic factors appear to influence the migratory habits of particular species may be a very important consideration for conservation research and management agendas.

One of the most inspiring aspects of migration is the stunning abilities of migratory animals to find their destinations—both with respect to knowing where to go in the first place, and navigating to find their way, sometimes across incredible distances and diverse topography. The degree to which migratory routes are learned versus innate, and understanding what environmental cues and internal mechanisms migrants use to navigate are both details that could be important to wildlife managers or policy makers.

There is strong evidence that the correct migratory orientation and distance is largely an innate characteristic for many birds,[104] as is the correct direction of migration for salmon and trout (upstream versus downstream)[105]—meaning that naïve juveniles are able to orient themselves correctly in experiments that remove any possible social learning experiences. However, it is also clear that learning and experience play a critical role, as the migratory journey of first-year birds takes considerably longer than in older birds,[106] and navigation has been shown to be controlled at least in part by early learning in species of several taxa, including birds, reptiles, amphibians, and insects.[107] Operation Migration, a conservation initiative to reintroduce endangered migratory Whooping Cranes (Grus americana) back into parts of Eastern North America, utilizes puppets and costumed humans to teach young cranes the correct migratory journey by ultimately training them to follow an ultralight aircraft[108]—demonstrating how the learned component of migratory behavior can have important implications for conservation.

Several environmental cues have been identified that are known to be important sources of information for orientation and navigation of migrating animals. Many of these have been identified through remarkable experiments over more than a century of research on this topic, with the vast majority of this research taking place in birds.[109] The position of the sun (solar compass), the position and rotation of the stars (celestial compass), the earth’s magnetic field (magnetic compass), variably polarized light, the position of landmarks or topographic features (e.g., mountains, coastlines, rivers), acoustic signals (e.g., ocean waves), and odors in the atmosphere have all been associated with animal navigation.[110] Some animals also navigate by following, or being assisted entirely, by winds or currents.[111] Understanding what cues migrants use for learning and navigation could be useful to conservationists for at least two reasons: 1) human activities have the potential to alter environmental cues that might be important for effective navigation in migratory animals, thus leading them off course; and 2) understanding mechanisms of navigation for a particular species could lead to strategies designed to steer migrants away from obstacles or reintroduce them to restored or alternative habitat refuges.

G. Future Directions in Migration Research

In the above Subparts, we enumerate and describe several ways in which biologists have characterized and categorized different types of animal migrations, and these terms and topics should be of use to those pursuing legal, policy, management or research agendas for the conservation of migrations and migratory species. These typologies emerge from centuries of formal and informal research on migration, primarily conducted by zoologists, ethologists, and taxonomists focused on the natural history and behavior of particular species or taxonomic groups. In more recent decades, ecologists and evolutionary biologists have turned their attention to the evolution and ecology of migration biology as a specific focus. Although substantial understanding of migratory species and the nature and function of their movements has been gained through historic and ongoing research as the above discussions and examples show, it is important to emphasize that for most migratory species there is still much that needs to be learned, and many mysteries remain about even the most fundamental details of migratory biology across nearly all knowledge categories described above. Thus, it is imperative that ongoing research initiatives continue to provide information on migrations and migratory species that will be valuable for policy makers and wildlife managers, in addition to addressing the goals of academic science. In the following paragraphs, we consider three important likely future directions for migration research, as predicted in part by technological advances that will enable new approaches and revitalize interest in long-standing questions.

With respect to the geography of migration, for most species, important biogeographic details are unknown. As discussed by Marra et al., for most migratory songbirds the most basic geographic links between breeding and wintering grounds for populations are unknown, as are the routes of the journey and the locations of the critical stopover habitats.[112] This is true for many other taxa, especially smaller animals including birds, fish, and insects, for which relatively heavy satellite tracking devices are too large for them to carry.[113] Even when breeding and wintering grounds are well understood, whether migrants move in broad or narrow fronts, or what particular topographic or habitat zones they traverse, is often unknown.

Emerging remote tracking technologies such as increasingly smaller radio devices, higher resolution stable isotopes or molecular markers, and geolocators make clarifying the geography of migration more feasible,[114] and there will likely be a renewed effort to track migrants and establish basic descriptive information on the biogeography of migrations for many species. Although simply establishing geographic detail for a longer list of species may be of limited interest to academic biologists or agencies funding basic science (e.g., the National Science Foundation), obtaining this information will inform unanswered questions about the seasonality, sociality, genetics, learning, physiology, or evolutionary history of migration as a unique behavioral adaptation—topics which are of great interest in science.

Climate change and habitat alteration represent topics that are currently of intense interest to scientists, in addition to conservation practitioners and policy makers, and thus represent key areas for generating interest and funding for migration research projects with both academic and conservation implications. As discussed by Thomas T. Moore,[115] climate change, as well as other types of habitat alteration, presents difficult challenges for migrating animals and those working for their conservation and preservation. Yet with the exception of a few landmark studies,[116] very little is known about how most migratory species are likely to respond to changing environments. Continued research into how global change is altering the migratory biology of animals will be required from scientists interested in both basic biological questions and specific conservation goals. These avenues of research could include, for example, investigating physiological mechanisms of seasonality, characterizing evolutionary or developmental responses to environmental change, or predictive modeling of current versus future habitat needs or demographic trends in the face of changing environments.

In addition to advances in tracking and sensing devices, another advancing set of technologies that will likely shape the future of migration research is the expanding utility and plummeting cost of molecular genetic and genomic tools. In addition to providing increased resolution for studies of population structure and genetic distance (e.g., among subspecies or races that share wintering grounds but return to different breeding grounds), future possibilities include identifying functional genes and gene families associated with migratory behavior and physiology. The possibility of linking these new genetic and genomic lines of research to conservation is most evident when considering how these tools might be applied in a population genetics context. However, identifying the actual genetic sequence variation correlated with behavioral variation among migrants could also prove useful to conservation. For example, scientists could more effectively artificially select migratory lines for reintroduction projects or probe the genetic potential of a population of migrants to respond to environmental change. Thus, similar to tracking/sensing technologies and topics in climate change, genetic tools represent new opportunities that will shape the future of migration research in ways that may also be useful for conservation.

In conclusion, although a large body of historic and ongoing research has led to certain generalities and categorizations of representative types of migratory phenomenon and their underlying mechanisms, for most migratory species, continued research on fundamental topics must remain a primary goal, with emerging technologies allowing advances in knowledge that will be valued by biologists, wildlife managers, and policy makers alike.

III. Typology of Existing Legal Approaches

This Part presents a classification of legal approaches used in existing conservation laws that are relevant for the protection of migratory animals and their migrations as phenomena of abundance. We discuss exemplars for each of five approaches, and examine the approaches that are likely to be most effective for particular migratory species and migrations.

In general, existing conservation laws are not optimally effective for protecting migratory species and their migrations while still abundant because those laws typically focus our attention on species declines, viable populations, and reactive conservation actions. Maintaining minimal viable populations, however, may not sustain the ecological, psychological, cultural, and economic benefits associated with migrations—these benefits of migration, as well as the persistence of the migratory behavior itself, likely require abundances higher than minimum viable populations.[117] The leading illustration of this limitation is the Endangered Species Act (ESA).[118] The ESA, while offering protections for listed species that migrate, is not fundamentally concerned with protecting the functional benefits derived from the process of migration. Rather, the ESA is generally concerned with protecting the benefits that flow from the existence of the species, and therefore the minimum demographically viable population will suffice for this purpose.[119]

Even laws that were developed with the goal of conserving one or more migratory species, however, such as the Migratory Bird Treaty Act, the Neotropical Migratory Bird Conservation Act,[120] the Marine Mammal Protection Act,[121] and the Migratory Bird Conservation Act,[122] are limited in their ability to protect migrations and associated benefits. Such laws were enacted for a limited purpose, within a particular political context, and for particular taxonomic groups. A law such as the Migratory Bird Treaty Act, enacted with a “take” prohibition to conserve migratory birds,[123] may not serve as an effective model or template for protecting other taxa, such as bats and turtles, which may benefit most from a different set of legal tools. In fact, the Migratory Bird Treaty Act may not be adequate even for protecting the target species.

A starting place for any effort to understand the strengths and limitations of existing conservation laws for the purpose of protecting migratory species and their migrations is to categorize the main legal approaches used by these laws.[124] We delineate five categories of legal approaches used by existing federal conservation laws: 1) providing funding and assistance for conservation projects and fostering coordination and information generation and exchange; 2) providing incentives for state-level conservation planning; 3) acquiring and designating habitat for the benefit of species’ individuals; 4) controlling the “take” of species’ individuals through prohibitions and harvest restrictions; and 5) establishing standards and management practices to avoid harm to species’ individuals and populations. Any particular conservation law may employ multiple approaches, so there is not a one-to-one correspondence between each approach and existing conservation laws.

Our intent is to present a few exemplar laws for each legal approach; our exemplars are limited to federal statutes and regulations authorizing conservation-related actions for species that occupy United States jurisdiction for at least part of the life cycle. Although we note associated international agreements where relevant, whether a particular federal law implements an international agreement or alternatively a self-directed national agenda is of secondary importance for our purposes—national legislation is where the rubber hits the road in both cases.[125] For each category of legal approach we present notable features of the approach, highlight one or a few representative exemplars from existing conservation laws, and discuss the likely effectiveness of the approach for particular types of migrations and migratory species.

A. Funding, Assistance, Coordination, and Information Generation
and Exchange

A common approach used by existing federal conservation laws is to authorize the transfer of funds from the United States government to domestic state, local, or private projects, or to foreign countries that are important ecologically but less able to fund conservation projects. Such projects may include land acquisition, restoration, education, and research activities. Often associated with authorization of funding and technical assistance for conservation projects are incentives to promote cooperation, coordination, and information generation and sharing among stakeholders.[126] Funding and assistance are often tools of choice for influencing land uses on state, local, and private property because of their voluntary nature,[127] although funding of third-party conservation projects typically requires federal approval based on specified criteria.

This approach is especially useful in three circumstances, which are not mutually exclusive. First, the approach is likely to be most effective for conserving long-distance migrants and migrations, such as the latitudinal migrations in North America that cross United States borders. Funding and assistance are the primary options in circumstances where the federal government lacks regulatory jurisdiction and has limited influence. Second, this approach may be the only politically viable option when privately owned land is a key component of a species’ migration habitat, a situation in which the federal government encounters limited influence and much resistance. Third, funding of nongovernmental third-party projects may be the most effective tool when private actors have superior knowledge or capabilities with regard to conserving particular migratory species and migrations. This situation is likely to hold for species that are not the subject of existing conservation laws and for which information is very limited, such as the migratory tree bats discussed by Paul Cryan.[128] Although this approach likely has limited effectiveness for conserving migrations when implemented alone, because of its primarily voluntary and procedural nature, this approach may be the type of federal conservation law that is most likely to be enacted in the current political climate.

As examples of this approach, several United States statutes support international agreements for species protection with mechanisms for funding, coordination, and information exchange across national borders.[129] For example, the Neotropical Migratory Bird Conservation Act of 2000 (NMBCA)[130] authorizes the United States Fish and Wildlife Service (FWS) to dispense funds to applicants who obtain approval for conservation initiatives to conserve neotropical birds throughout the Western Hemisphere.[131] The NMBCA establishes a Neotropical Migratory Bird Conservation Account to receive appropriations and donations.[132] The money is then used to fund conservation projects that meet specific criteria and that will enhance the conservation of neotropical migratory bird species in the United States, Canada, Latin America, and the Caribbean.[133] The Secretary of Interior must, among other things, give preference to proposals that address conservation needs not adequately addressed by existing efforts and that are supported by relevant wildlife management authorities.[134] Federal funds requested under the NMBCA must be matched three-to-one by non-federal funds.[135] Funded projects for fiscal year 2008 included a research study of factors influencing the survival of Mountain Plover chicks (Charadrius montanus) in Colorado and Montana, invasive species removal in Puerto Rico, and reforestation of critical wintering habitat in Colombia, Ecuador, and Peru. The NMBCA also expressly sets forth other mechanisms of cooperation, including information sharing, interagency collaboration and coordination on projects, public participation, and inter-party agreements.[136]

Other laws focus on funding for domestic, rather than international, conservation projects. For example, the Estuary Restoration Act of 2000 (ERA)[137] establishes an estuary habitat restoration program under which the Secretary of the Army may carry out estuary habitat restoration projects and provide technical assistance through the award of contracts and cooperative agreements.[138] The ERA establishes an Estuary Habitat Restoration Council whose objective is to, among other things, solicit, review, and evaluate estuary restoration project proposals and develop recommendations concerning such proposals and submit to the Secretary of Commerce a list of recommended and prioritized projects.[139] A proposed estuary habitat restoration project must originate from a non-federal interest such as a state or local government, a tribe, or a nongovernmental organization (NGO).[140] The Secretary selects, based on established criteria,[141] estuary habitat restoration projects from a list of project proposals submitted by the Council.[142] Projects nationwide are tied together by an estuary habitat restoration strategy produced by the Council.[143] Projects are funded on a cost sharing arrangement, with the federal share not to exceed sixty-five percent.[144]

Projects approved under the NMBCA and ERA are likely to be developed and implemented mainly by organizations and agencies as part of institutional programs. However, the funding and assistance approach can also facilitate projects not associated with organizational or institutional programs, as some U.S. statutes focus on funding and technical assistance specifically for private landowners. For example, the Partners for Fish and Wildlife Act of 2006 (PFWA)[145] has a stated purpose to provide for the restoration, enhancement, and management of fish and wildlife habitats on private land by working with private landowners to conduct habitat projects for the benefit of fish and wildlife.[146] The PFWA provides technical and financial assistance to private landowners for such projects, as well as technical assistance to other public and private entities for habitat restoration on private land.[147]

B. State Conservation Planning in Exchange for Federal Incentives

A second legal approach is to offer incentives to state governments to develop conservation plans that meet specified federal criteria. In this approach the federal government offers financial, technical, or other incentives in exchange for approval authority over the state conservation plans. This incentivized state planning approach is often implemented in tandem with the project funding and assistance approach described above. Once a state plan is approved by the federal government, the states are typically eligible for funding and assistance to implement their plans at the project level. Funding of localized state projects without assurance of underlying state planning to coordinate and prioritize those projects may not be optimally effective for conservation. However, we consider the incentivized state planning approach separate from the project funding and assistance approach, because they need not be, and are not invariably, implemented together.[148]

The incentivized state planning approach is likely to be most effective where the migration of concern crosses multiple state boundaries and where the migration habitats include a large amount of state or private lands. This approach can encourage consistency of conservation actions across large areas and multiple jurisdictional boundaries—for example, by fostering consistent standards and practices across states in the design and operation of wind turbines to reduce their impact on migratory birds and bats.[149] But this approach can achieve this objective only if the underlying federal legislation requires such consistency in the approval criteria.

Two primary types of state plans produced under this approach are Coastal Zone Management Plans and State Wildlife Action Plans. The Coastal Zone Management Act of 1972 (CZMA)[150] encourages states to voluntarily protect natural coastal resources such as wetlands, beaches, and coral reefs, as well as the fish and wildlife using those habitats. It includes areas bordering the Atlantic, Pacific, and Arctic Oceans, Gulf of Mexico, Long Island Sound, and the Great Lakes. The CZMA provides two incentives for coastal states to develop and implement a comprehensive coastal zone management program and plan: 1) matching grants for the administration of the program and coastal resource improvements,[151] and 2) a requirement that “[e]ach Federal agency activity within or outside the coastal zone that affects any land or water use or natural resource of the coastal zone shall be carried out in a manner which is consistent to the maximum extent practicable with the enforceable policies of approved state management programs.”[152] A state’s coastal zone program or plan is submitted to the Secretary of Commerce for review and approval.[153] In order to approve the program, the Secretary must find that the submitted program/plan meets a set of requirements, including a definition of what shall constitute permissible land and water users within the coastal zone, “[a]n inventory and designation of areas of particular concern within the coastal zone,” identification of the means by which the state proposes to exert control over the land and water uses, “[b]road guidelines on priorities of uses in particular areas,” and that the management program provides for an “inventory and designation of areas that contain one or more coastal resources of national significance,” and “specific and enforceable standards to protect such resources.”[154] Once approved, a designated state agency manages the state’s coastal zone program and serves as liaison between the state and the Commerce Department. Each federal agency carrying out an activity in the state’s coastal zone, each applicant for a federal license or permit to conduct an activity in the coastal zone, and each person submitting a plan for exploration or development of leased outer continental shelf lands must provide a showing of consistency with the state’s approved program.[155]

State Wildlife Action Plans (SWAPs) (also known as State Comprehensive Wildlife Conservation Plans) are authorized by the Fish and Wildlife Conservation Act of 1980 (FWCA),[156] and the Fish and Wildlife Programs Improvement and National Wildlife Refuge System Centennial Act of 2000.[157] An approvable SWAP, which is required for a state to receive project funding under the State Wildlife Grants Program,[158] must meet federal criteria, including identification of the problems that may adversely affect the species or their habitats and a determination of actions to be taken to conserve species and habitats identified in the plan as having the greatest conservation need.[159] SWAPs are often touted as tools for conserving nongame wildlife populations proactively before they exhibit signs of decline.

C. Acquiring and Designating Habitat for the Benefit of Species’ Individuals and Populations

This legal approach involves delineating a boundary around an identified area and protecting, conserving, and managing the area and the animal and plant populations within. Three applications of this approach are: 1) designation of existing federal land, 2) federal acquisition of full or partial interests in state or private lands, and 3) federal designation of state or private lands as special areas. First, existing public lands may be designated as national parks, wilderness areas, marine sanctuaries, wild and scenic rivers, and national wildlife refuges. In particular, public lands may be designated as migration corridors.[160] Second, property interests in state or private lands can be acquired in full or partially, typically as easements. Lastly, state or private land may be designated as special areas, such as a migration corridor. Designation of state or private land as a special area may be valuable to draw public attention to the area and to motivate further actions such as acquisitions, funding, and restoration.[161]

Acquisitions and designations are likely to be most effective for migratory species that occupy and use a few delineated sites. For example, acquisitions will be most readily identified and likely produce the most bang for the buck when applied to obligate, narrow-fronted migrations moving along relatively narrow corridors or those that gather in mass aggregations at a limited number of stopover, breeding, and overwintering sites.[162]

United States laws that authorize wetland acquisitions are illustrative of the approach. For example, the Migratory Bird Conservation Act of 1929 (MBCA) authorizes the purchase, rental, or gift of full or partial interests in land or water by the federal government for the purpose of protecting migratory birds.[163] The MBCA creates a Commission, chaired by the Secretary of Interior, that is authorized to “consider and pass upon any area of land, water, or land and water that may be recommended by the Secretary of the Interior for purchase or rental under this [Act].”[164] The Secretary may not recommend any area for purchase or rental unless he or she has determined that such area is necessary for the conservation of migratory birds and has consulted with the local government in which such area is located and with the Governor or appropriate agency of the state concerned.[165] Either the governor or the state agency ultimately must approve each proposed acquisition.[166] Acquired areas need not be managed as inviolate sanctuaries; the Secretary is authorized to manage timber, range, and agricultural crops, and other species of animals with the objectives of perpetuating, distributing, and utilizing these resources.[167]

Another example of a wetland acquisition statute is the North American Wetlands Conservation Act of 1989 (NAWCA),[168] which is based in part on treaty obligations under the Ramsar Convention[169] and the Convention on Nature Protection and Wildlife Preservation in the Western Hemisphere,[170] as well as the 1988 amendments to the Fish and Wildlife Conservation Act of 1980.[171] The Act establishes a North American Wetlands Conservation Council that recommends wetlands conservation projects, including acquisitions, to the Migratory Bird Conservation Commission established by the Migratory Bird Conservation Act.[172] Any wetlands acquisitions under NAWCA within the United States are to be included in the National Wildlife Refuge System.[173] In lieu of including these properties in the Refuge System, the Interior Secretary may, with the concurrence of the Commission, provide the federal funds or convey any real property interest acquired with such funds without cost to a state or to another public agency or other entity, upon a finding by the Secretary that the real property interests should not be included in the Refuge System.[174] In such cases the deed or other instrument of transfer must contain a provision for the reversion of title to the property to the United States if the deed holder fails to manage the property in accordance with the objectives of NAWCA. With regard to wetlands conservation projects in Canada and Mexico, the Interior Secretary is required to provide funding to assist public agencies and other entities in carrying out wetlands conservation projects that have been approved by the Commission, provided that any real property interest acquired, enhanced, managed, or restored with such funds “will be administered for the long-term conservation and management of such wetland ecosystem and the fish and wildlife dependent thereon.”[175]

D. Controls on “Take” of Species’ Individuals, Including Prohibitions and Harvest Restrictions

Prohibitions and restrictions on “take” of individuals of a species are frequently used legal approaches for conservation. Take prohibitions start from a baseline of no-take, and are often applied to threatened or depleted species or groups. This baseline prohibition is typically tempered by exceptions, so that the prohibition is implemented as a prohibition on taking without the permission of the relevant agency. Where the take prohibition is linked to endangered species or groups, the exemptions from the prohibition are likely to be few and difficult to obtain. In fisheries laws, take prohibitions typically take the form of year-round area closures or species bans. Take restrictions, in contrast, accept take as the baseline condition and attempt to control the amount taken. Take restrictions are typically applied to hunted, fished, or collected species that are not threatened with extinction. In fisheries laws, such restrictions are typically in the form of catch limits, limits on fishing permits, limits on allowed number of fishing days, or seasonal closures of fisheries or areas. Although take prohibitions and take restrictions are often conceptualized separately, both approaches have the common objective of controlling and limiting the intentional as well as incidental killing, harming, capturing, or harassing of individuals.[176]

Take prohibitions and restrictions are likely to be most effective for migratory species that aggregate at high abundances in sites that may not be fully protected through acquisition. Such aggregations, more common for migratory species that visit a few stopover sites (e.g., Red Knots, Calidris canutis),[177] congregate for breeding (e.g., grouper, Epinephelus spp.),[178] or congregate for overwintering (e.g., monarch butterflies),[179] may make the included individuals particularly vulnerable to take by humans during those periods.[180] Yet the real strength of a take prohibition or restriction is that it need not be tied to a particular piece of land or water. This approach thus can protect migratory individuals wherever they may be at any moment in time, and can be effective for protecting migrants moving between, or not well served by, protected areas. The approach can also be used to protect the food supply of migrants, such as where migrants prey on populations that are themselves impacted by human development. Take prohibitions and restrictions can be implemented over large geographic extents and may cross many jurisdictions, and that can be good for long-distance migrants. The large geographic extent of implementation that can benefit migratory species may, however, make enforcement difficult compared to a take limitation tied to a specified area.

Two exemplars of federal laws that implement a take prohibition are the ESA[181] and the Migratory Bird Treaty Act (MBTA).[182] Section 9 of the ESA makes it unlawful for any person or entity to “take” any endangered or threatened species.[183] The ESA offers an exception from the prohibition under section 10(a), which authorizes the Secretary of Interior or Commerce to allow a private entity to engage in development or land use activities that may result in a taking of some members of a threatened or endangered species, so long as the taking is “incidental to, and not the purpose of, the carrying out of an otherwise lawful activity.”[184] The Secretary’s approval is set forth in an incidental take permit.[185] To qualify for this exception, a private entity must submit a Habitat Conservation Plan (HCP).[186] If the Secretary finds that

(i) the taking will be incidental, (ii) the applicant will, to the maximum extent practicable, minimize and mitigate the impacts of such taking, (iii) the applicant will ensure that adequate funding for the plan will be provided, (iv) the taking will not appreciably reduce the likelihood of the survival and recovery of the species in the wild, and (v) the measures, if any, required [by the Secretary] will be met,

the Secretary must issue an incidental take permit containing “such terms and conditions as the Secretary deems necessary or appropriate.”[187]

“Take” is defined broadly in the ESA as “to harass, harm, pursue, hunt, shoot, wound, kill, trap, capture, or collect, or to attempt to engage in any such conduct.”[188] The implementing regulations define “harm” to include a “significant habitat modification or degradation where it actually kills or injures wildlife by significantly impairing essential behavioral patterns, including breeding, feeding or sheltering.”[189] To be subject to section 9, the habitat modification or degradation must be significant, must significantly impair essential behavioral patterns, and must foreseeably result in actual injury to a protected wildlife species.[190] ESA actionable harm includes indirect injury due to habitat changes, such as when habitat changes reduce prey availability or reduce the animals’ ability to evade predators.[191] Moreover, courts have interpreted the ESA take prohibition to allow a permanent injunction for future incidental impacts caused by habitat modification or destruction.[192]

Under the MBTA, it is illegal to “pursue, hunt, take, capture, kill, attempt to take, capture, or kill” any migratory bird or any part, nest, or egg of such bird by “any means or in any manner.”[193] The Secretary of Interior is authorized to set forth exceptions to the MBTA take prohibition: “to determine when, to what extent, if at all, and by what means, it is compatible with the terms of the conventions to allow hunting, taking, capture, killing, possession, sale, purchase, shipment, transportation, carriage, or export of any such bird, or any part, nest, or egg thereof, and to adopt suitable regulations permitting and governing the same.”[194] Migratory game birds may be taken through hunting in accordance with conditions and restrictions.[195] The Secretary can issue several types of permits under the MBTA for taking of migratory birds, including permits to take migratory birds that are injuring crops and other property interests.[196] Regulations also set forth the conditions under which specified persons and entities are exempt from the permit requirements.[197] However, neither the MBTA nor its implementing regulations provide for permitting of “incidental take” of migratory birds.

While the MBTA take prohibition covers more than hunting or poaching,[198] so far no federal court has concluded that indirect incidental harm to migratory birds caused by habitat modification or degradation alone imposes liability under the MBTA, unlike under the ESA.[199] Importantly, the MBTA definition of take does not include the terms “harass” and “harm” like the ESA definition, and courts have found that difference significant.[200] On the other hand, direct killing of migratory birds caused by habitat changes, such as may occur while harvesting trees during nesting season, may be held to be a MBTA violation by at least some courts.[201] Notwithstanding the substantial variation in existing judicial interpretations of the MBTA take prohibition, FWS may use the threat of enforcement as well as court injunctions (where direct killing is inevitable) to proactively control public and private actions that incidentally and directly kill migratory birds, such as the operation of wind turbines.[202] Courts appear willing to find MBTA violations where the killing of migratory birds is reasonably foreseeable, where the defendant disregards norms of conduct for the relevant industry, and where the defendant fails to implement conservation measures developed by the agency.[203] To serve an effective prevention role, the threat of enforcement and prosecution must be high enough to provide sufficient incentive to would-be takers to subject themselves to agency control before a take occurs.[204] Once a take occurs, proving an MBTA violation may be exceedingly difficult.[205]

Take prohibitions, as in the ESA and MBTA, begin from the baseline of no take and provide exceptions to that prohibition. Take restrictions, on the other hand, begin from the baseline that harvest is allowed and impose limitations on how much can be taken. Fisheries regulations typically implement take restrictions. An example of take restrictions implemented at large spatial scales are from the regulations under the Western and Central Pacific Fisheries Convention Implementation Act of 2007 (WCPFCA),[206] which implements the Convention on the Conservation and Management of Highly Migratory Fish Stocks in the Western and Central Pacific Ocean adopted in 2000.[207] These regulations use fishing day limitations[208] and quotas[209] to control take over large expanses of ocean.[210] Similarly, regulations for the Atlantic Tunas Convention Act of 1975 (ATCA),[211] which implements the International Convention for the Conservation of Atlantic Tunas adopted in 1966,[212] specify recreational retention limits for several species implemented across large areas of the Atlantic Ocean[213] as well as retention limits for Atlantic bluefin tuna (Thunnus thynnus).[214] Take restrictions implemented in relatively small delineated areas are less common than take prohibitions implemented at large spatial scales.

E. Standards and Management Practices to Avoid Harm to Individuals
and Populations

The take prohibitions and restrictions discussed above clearly are intended to prevent, control, and mitigate take. Their effectiveness for this task, however, ultimately depends on 1) the extent to which the threat of enforcement and successful prosecution deters particular kinds of take and instigates application for permits and exceptions, or 2) the probability that an injunction can be obtained to prevent or stop take. Preventing and controlling incidental take—in particular, take due to habitat modification or degradation—often requires that the lead agency inform sister agencies and private actors how they may avoid taking protected animals. The lead agency may provide such information on a case-by-case basis; for example, as measures in an incidental take permit or incidental take statement under the ESA. Alternatively and more broadly, standards and management practices to avoid and control incidental take may be developed for all activities of a particular type. Such standards and practices may be voluntary or may be set forth and mandated in statute or regulation.

We use the terms standards and management practices in a broad sense. Standards establish goals for the resource or limitations on technologies that may impact the resource, and are typically prescriptive. In water pollution control law, technical standards may specify goals for the clarity and uses of water bodies, set limits on allowable concentrations of discharged pollutants, or directly require the application of a particular pollution control technology.[215] In the context of migration, technical standards could apply at all phases of the migratory cycle, but may find most ready application in the form of habitat standards for corridors or occupied sites (e.g., a specified size or percent of forested area) and design standards for migration barriers (e.g., a specified design for fences encountered by pronghorn or wind turbines encountered by birds and bats). In the broad sense in which we use the term, a standard may apply to relatively unsophisticated technologies such as fences. In circumstances where standards are not or cannot feasibly be established, management practices are specified to control conduct. Best management practices have specific applications in pollution control,[216] federal land management,[217] and state forestry contexts.[218] In our broad use of the term, a management practice, irrespective of whether it is voluntary or mandated by regulation, sets forth rules of conduct that are expected to reduce the impact to the resource. In the migration context, management practices to reduce impacts to migrants and their habitats can be readily applied to all phases of the migratory cycle (e.g., on breeding grounds, wintering grounds, and migration routes). Standards and practices, while common in pollution control laws like the Clean Water Act,[219] less commonly appear in conservation laws.[220]

Like take prohibitions and restrictions, standards and management practices can be applied at a range of spatial extents and need not be tied to any particular piece of land or water. This makes the approach particularly useful for broad fronted migratory species (e.g., songbirds)[221] and for migratory species limited by multiple or widely dispersed structural barriers or adverse land uses (e.g., roads, fences, communication towers, wind turbines, and dams). Standards and practices may be usefully associated with other approaches; applied, for example, as uniform requirements for federal approval of incentivized state conservation plans, as guidelines or requirements in a land use plan for acquired or designated properties, or as requirements in a take prohibition or reduction plan.[222]

Standards and practices may be voluntary or mandatory depending on legislative authority and the potential impact they are intended to prevent or ameliorate. An example of voluntary conservation standards and practices is FWS guidance to help the wind power industry avoid and minimize the impact of land-based wind turbines on wildlife, particularly migratory birds.[223] So far FWS has no regulations specific to wind power. Enforcement and prosecutorial discretion under the MBTA does provide FWS with some leverage to persuade the wind industry to cooperate in developing and implementing such guidelines. These wind guidelines could, however, be mandated as conditions on incidental take permits under the ESA or on other federal permits or licenses.

Nonvoluntary standards and practices for conservation occur frequently in fisheries laws, and such laws may provide a model for applying this approach to the conservation of migrations. Examples of standards and practices in fisheries laws are fishing gear technical standards, gear restrictions by season or species, and practices for preventing and mitigating bycatch. The regulations for fisheries in the Caribbean, Gulf, and Mid and South Atlantic EEZ specify management measures including the type of fishing gear allowed and prohibited for various species.[224] Similarly, the Atlantic Tunas Convention Act (ATCA)[225] regulations specify gear operation and deployment restrictions, including quantitative standards for the design of pelagic longline hooks.[226] The detailed requirements in the regulations for the ATCA for reducing the incidental capture and mortality of sea turtles caught in longline gear are another good illustration of mandated management practices applied to avoid and mitigate take of animals.[227] The practices specify proper bycatch mitigation gear to be carried on board the fishing vessel including line cutters, dehookers, a standard passenger vehicle tire (to support a boated turtle), turtle control devices, and mouth openers and mouth gags. Methodologies and protocols for removing hooks from sea turtles, either brought into the vessel or still in the water, and for handling and release of incidentally caught sea turtles are also specified.[228]

In theory, such fisheries’ standards and practices are no different than standards and practices applied to habitat modification and the design and operation standards and practices of wind turbines, transmission towers, rangeland fences, and highway underpasses, which could help prevent incidental take of migrating animals. Notwithstanding real or perceived political infeasibility or lack of statutory authority, in general, application of uniform standards and management practices is an underutilized conservation approach.

F. Concluding Thoughts

There are many ways to categorize legal approaches in existing conservation laws. The above typology sets out what we consider to be the core approaches that will likely be necessary to protect migratory species and migrations at abundances that maintain associated benefits. The essential question for developing such legal protections is how to achieve the right mixture of approaches and the right timing of implementation for particular species, migrations, and circumstances.

IV. Typologies Related to Wildlife Management

This Part explores the ways in which natural resource managers approach conservation of migratory species. Wildlife management is an applied discipline that seeks to manipulate wildlife habitats and wildlife populations to conserve, control, or exploit species of wildlife, as laws and societal interests dictate.[229] In addition, wildlife managers and land managers whose responsibilities extend to wildlife also interact and collaborate with agencies, NGOs, and the public, and often include public education and outreach among their responsibilities. Wildlife management encompasses the natural science discipline of applied ecology and such social science disciplines as economics and sociology, applying these within the context of the legal structure that both constrains and enables management actions. Ecosystem management and adaptive management,[230] presently regarded as the most effective forms of natural resource management, incorporate scientists, managers, and the stakeholder groups to whom management answers giving strong emphasis to what is termed the “human dimensions”[231] of natural resources management, as well as to the scientific and technical aspects of the discipline.

Part IV.A.1 describes the legal structure that guides wildlife management on terrestrial properties and Part IV.A.2 similarly delineates aquatic settings under federal, state, and private control. Our focus in these Subparts is narrow—only those aspects of law that enable or constrain state and federal managers and private landowners as they manage wildlife; in contrast, Part III of this Article discusses the broad sweep of other legal instruments that may support conservation of migrations and migratory species. Part IV.A.3 describes species management across the nation, across states, and across the swath of water that is the EEZ. Management across these broad areas of land and water proceeds under different authority and using somewhat different tools than management of specific terrestrial and marine properties discussed in the first two Subparts.

Part IV.B describes the tools available to managers to manipulate habitats and species, including collaborative and educational tools for dealing with other management entities and with the public. Part IV.C presents a typology of migrations and migratory species, similar to the scientific typology presented in Part II of this Article, but from the standpoint of wildlife management.

A. Management Contexts

The context of management dictates, to some extent, the ways in which management can affect migrants. Here, we first differentiate among federal, state, and private management of lands and waters. Federal land management is guided by the organic legislation that outlines the responsibilities of the respective landowning agencies and is limited to federal lands, which exist rather like islands in a matrix of state and private land. We limit discussion of state management in Part IV.A.1 to state properties, although states have broad responsibilities for wildlife management across ownership boundaries. Similarly, in Part IV.A.2 we limit discussion of “land management” in federal water to marine sanctuaries and monuments, which are similar to terrestrial properties in their delineation. In Part IV.A.3, we examine possibilities for affecting migrants through species management, discussing federal programs with responsibility across the nation, state efforts that cross property boundaries within states, and federal authority throughout the broad coastal territory of the EEZ. We close by considering landscape-scale management that ignores political boundaries.

1. Wildlife Management in the Context of Land Management

Land managers are responsible for many aspects of natural resource management, and public land managers may also be responsible for recreation, public safety, law enforcement, and a variety of other activities related to managing the land for the public and managing the public on the land. In this Subpart, we consider conservation of migrations and migratory species as an aspect of management of federal and state public lands and private lands. Federal and state agencies receive their authority through very different aspects of law. Even within federal agencies, we find differences in the specificity of guidance supplied by organic legislation and associated policy guidelines. States vary in the relative weight given to game and non-game species.

a. Federal Lands

Management of federal lands is controlled by the relevant organic legislation—the legislation that outlines the responsibilities of the various systems; more specific statues may address specific units or properties. Although these are laws, we discuss them here, under the management heading, because organic legislation provides a broad, overarching view of agency responsibilities, guiding management through the wording of what is, essentially, a mission statement. Even establishment legislation that creates individual units and describes their purposes and uses is rarely particularly prescriptive. Thus, the fine details of management are generally left to the agencies and may be dictated by agency policy or left to the discretion of managers at various levels.

No federal land system, whether by law or by policy, explicitly seeks to conserve migrants or migrations, with the exception of migratory fish, birds, and marine mammals within the national wildlife refuge system.[232] Protection of migration as a phenomenon is not contemplated by any of these systems. As a result, protection of biodiversity is the main umbrella under which protection of migratory species and of migration can occur on public lands. The major federal land management agencies are, in order of land area managed, the Bureau of Land Management,[233] the Forest Service,[234] the Fish and Wildlife Service,[235] and the National Park Service.[236] (Department of Defense lands, which come fifth, are excluded from this discussion.)

 

The Bureau of Land Management

 

The Bureau of Land Management (BLM) is required to use a multiple-use, sustained-yield approach that gives the agency sufficient authority to manage for migration conservation, but does not place any particular requirements on the agency to do so. BLM’s required management approach is laid out in the Federal Land Policy and Management Act (FLPMA),[237] which defines the multiple-use, sustained-yield principle as

the management of the public lands and their various resource values so that they are utilized in the combination that will best meet the present and future needs of the American people . . . including, but not limited to, recreation, range, timber, minerals, watershed, wildlife and fish, and natural scenic, scientific and historical values; and harmonious and coordinated management of the various resources without permanent impairment of the productivity of the land and the quality of the environment with consideration being given to the relative values of the resources and not necessarily to the combination of uses that will give the greatest economic return or the greatest unit output.[238]

The multiple-use mandate gives the agency wide latitude to balance uses as it sees fit; wildlife is granted no primacy. Because some of the indicated land uses are incompatible with simultaneous presence of many wildlife species (notably mineral extraction and, to a lesser extent, grazing and timber harvest), the result of multiple use must be a reduction in the overall area available for most wildlife, including migrating wildlife. The agency may choose to manage portions of its land to benefit migrants, but is barred from doing so throughout its holdings, and is not subject to penalty if it chooses not to manage specifically for migratory species in any of its holdings. Thus, the largest manager of federal lands has no requirement to support migration and migratory species, but the option of doing so on some areas under its control.

 

The United States Forest Service

 

Like BLM, the United States Forest Service (Forest Service) has a multiple-use mandate. While federal statutes provide little guidance concerning how the Forest Service should balance the needs of wildlife with other Forest Service objectives, agency policies have provided a high standard for protection of biodiversity,[239] although without any special emphasis on migratory species. Forest Service activities are governed by the National Forest Management Act (NFMA),[240] which requires that Forest Service planning “provide for diversity of plant and animal communities based on the suitability and capability of the specific land area in order to meet overall multiple-use objectives.”[241] Presently, agency implementing guidelines direct that, within each national forest, “fish and wildlife habitat shall be managed to maintain viable populations of existing native and desired nonnative vertebrate species in the planning area.”[242] These guidelines have been in effect since 1982, with a brief hiatus under the George W. Bush Administration, which sought to set them aside.[243] USDA regulations provide supporting language:

Habitats for all existing native and desired non-native plants, fish, and wildlife species will be managed to maintain at least viable populations of such species. In achieving this objective, habitat must be provided for the number and distribution of reproductive individuals to ensure the continued existence of a species throughout its geographic range. . . . Monitoring activities will be conducted to determine results in meeting population and habitat goals.[244]

By providing for monitoring as well as for conservation throughout a species’ geographic range, the regulation clearly indicates that attempts at conservation, alone, are not sufficient—proof of efficacy is also needed. The need to conserve throughout a species’ range protects species that migrate within or across forest boundaries, but cannot protect species outside of the individual national forests. The national forests typically choose a subset of “management indicator species” from among a variety of game and nongame taxa specific to each forest; protection of these species is supposed to afford protection to a much broader suite of species.[245]

 

The United States Fish and Wildlife Service

 

As the federal agency with primary responsibility for wildlife, the United States Fish and Wildlife Service (FWS) interacts with migrant wildlife in many ways. As a land manager, the agency administers the national wildlife refuges,[246] as well as wetland management districts and coordination areas.[247] We limit our comments here to that role. Unlike the multiple-use land management of BLM and the Forest Service, the national wildlife refuge system has a dominant use—conservation.[248]

For many years, the Forest Service “viable populations” guidance was considered the highest available standard for protecting biodiversity outside of the ESA. However, because the Forest Service guidance is in the implementing regulations, not in the legislation itself, it can be rewritten at any time, so long as the language that replaces it is viewed by the courts as faithfully interpreting the organic legislation. Indeed, as we mention above, the George W. Bush Administration attempted just such a rewrite.[249] The National Wildlife Refuge System Improvement Act (NWRSIA)[250] includes its guidance in the language of the act itself.

The NWRSIA, among other things, protects “biological integrity, diversity, and environmental health” of national wildlife refuges.[251] Both “biological integrity” and “diversity” directives cover migrants, and where migrants and migrations fulfill important ecosystem functions, the “environmental health” language may also extend protection to migrants and migrations.

The NWRSIA also requires that all activities on a refuge be compatible with the primary establishment purposes of the refuge and with the mission of the refuge system as a whole.[252] This requirement highlights the status of the refuge system as a system of lands with a single dominant purpose[253] in contrast to the multiple-use systems of the Forest Service and BLM. The compatibility policy limits activities that reduce or fragment habitat for migratory species, but does not entirely eliminate them; wildlife-focused management that creates, enhances, or restores habitat for one species or set of species may reduce, degrade, or fragment habitat for other species.

More specific focus for the national wildlife refuges comes from a broader, current FWS focus on so-called “trust” species. Several more or less consistent definitions appear in a variety of FWS documents and in the Partners for Fish and Wildlife Act of 2006.[254] The Act names “migratory birds, threatened species, endangered species, interjurisdictional fish, marine mammals, and other species of concern.”[255] FWS states that efforts to protect trust species provide effective umbrellas for protection of wildlife of all kinds.[256] Thus, although all biodiversity is protected by the NWRSIA, trust species and species specifically targeted by individual refuge establishment legislation may be “more equal than others,” to borrow the language of George Orwell.[257]

The national wildlife refuge system has direction from the policy that interprets the NRWSIA to expand its focus beyond the boundaries of its own land in order to assess and protect the resources of the system.[258] Although their legal authority stops at refuge boundaries, managers are encouraged to consider the role of the refuge in the larger landscape and may affect land management outside refuge boundaries through outreach programs in cooperation with other branches of FWS and through collaboration with other agencies, organizations, and with private landowners.

 

The National Park Service

 

The National Park Service (NPS) organic legislation has NPS forever balancing the conflicting demands of a mandate to “conserve the scenery and the natural and historic objects and the wildlife therein and to provide for the enjoyment of the same in such manner and by such means as will leave them unimpaired for the enjoyment of future generations.”[259] In cases of conflict, policy requires that conservation be the dominant use.[260] However, in establishment language for individual parks, Congress can and does use specific language to circumvent the larger system goals, for example, to emphasize recreation or scenery as a dominant value of a particular park.[261]

NPS policy includes a substantial discussion of impairment,[262] as well as extensive direction regarding natural resource management[263] that includes general direction to conserve plants, animals, and natural processes. The policy explicitly addresses migratory species, indicating NPS will work with other agencies and countries as appropriate to identify ranges, assist in developing harvest strategies, and participate in monitoring efforts to assist in conservation of these species.[264] More broadly, NPS policy also directs superintendents to participate in “cooperative conservation beyond park boundaries” designed to help create a “seamless network of parks” and to act to protect parks from impacts in the surrounding landscape.[265]

Although NPS policy addresses many of the same points and uses many of the same mechanisms (e.g., long-range planning) as does National Wildlife Refuge System policy, NPS policy provides no firm timeframe, and fewer specifics.[266] In addition, the NPS mission includes a far wider range of resources—scenic views, soundscapes, historical sites—than the wildlife-focused NWR mission. As a result, although NPS policy creates an affirmative responsibility to wildlife, generally, that responsibility is only one of many, and no means are provided for ensuring progress towards wildlife-related goals. Finally, policy notwithstanding, the organic legislation requirement to “provide for the enjoyment” of parks creates conflicts with conservation. Congress can de-emphasize conservation among the goals for a particular park in the establishment process, and court decisions have made it clear that the parks have wide discretion in choosing which means and levels of “enjoyment” will be permitted, even when these are noticeably harmful to wildlife.[267]

In summary, migratory species that spend all or a considerable part of their time breeding or overwintering on federal lands fall under the policies discussed above, but even on those lands with more specific biodiversity mandates, they are not specific targets of conservation interest unless they happen to be selected as indicator species for a particular national forest plan, or unless they are a FWS trust species—a category that excludes migrants that are not birds or fish. Species that pass through federal land on their migratory paths are likely to be best protected on natural wildlife refuges under the umbrella of “biological integrity, diversity and environmental health,”[268] or at present, and if they are vertebrates, on national forests under the umbrella of “viable populations of existing native and desired nonnative vertebrate species.”[269]

b. Non-Federal Lands

In the United States, wildlife is owned by the public and states have the power to manage wildlife; states vary in the degree to which they formally claim that power.[270] States generally have authority to manage resident fish and wildlife in federal lands within state borders.[271] Even in cases where Congress has granted federal agencies some latitude over fish and wildlife management on their lands, federal agencies are typically required to coordinate management with state authorities.[272] Here, we confine ourselves to management of land owned by the states; we consider the wider management of wildlife across the breadth of the state in the following Subparts on species management.

State wildlife agencies typically administer a system of state lands, often of several types—state forests, parks, wildlife management areas, nature preserves. Details of management guidelines vary too much among land categories and among states to permit more than general statements. Attention to migratory species on state lands varies according to the purposes of the lands and according to the state. On areas where hunting is permitted, the migratory game species of interest will be explicitly managed and nongame species may be afforded some protection either as an inadvertent result of management for migratory game species or due to additional explicit management for nongame migratory species. Most states also have some conservation-oriented state lands—parks, nature preserves—that explicitly conserve biodiversity broadly.[273] Thus, state lands typically have conservation value for migratory species, but the extent to which management directly addresses migratory species varies by the mission of the particular land system, the mission of the agency, and by importance of the species (e.g., to the public for hunting, fishing, or wildlife watching, or for ecosystem services).

Parks and forests operated by local governments, as well as private lands and lands owned by nongovernmental organizations such as land trusts and conservation societies, also provide habitat for migratory species. The level of planning and range of species of interest are determined by the landowning organization. Migrants and migrations that are not endangered lack any substantial legal protection on private land. A variety of programs seek to involve private landowners in wildlife conservation—these were discussed in the Part on legal protection,[274] and are also covered briefly the later Part on coordination of conservation efforts.[275]

2. Wildlife Management in the Context of Federal and State Waters

Just as we limited our discussion of terrestrial wildlife management to specific publicly and privately owned properties, we limit our discussion of aquatic wildlife and fisheries management to analogous situations. Part IV.A.3 below discusses cases where aquatic wildlife and fish are managed across large scales such as in coastal waters within three miles of shore, controlled by coastal states, and from three to two-hundred miles offshore, controlled by the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA).[276]

a. Waters of the United States

Two general situations create aquatic “properties” under federal management analogous to federally owned public lands: certain short-term or ongoing management activities of inland waters may result in federal ownership of the project area, and a variety of marine protected areas are managed at the federal level.

Bodies of inland water created by impoundment or diversion, and areas that are deepened, while that activity is ongoing, are typically projects of the United States Army Corps of Engineers, the Bureau of Reclamation, or another federal agency that funds, permits, or carries out the project. The United States Army Corps of Engineers manages a number of primarily eastern rivers that are dammed. The Bureau of Reclamation manages project areas including dam sites, primarily on western rivers. The Fish and Wildlife Coordination Act[277] describes responsibility for fish and wildlife on projects that impound, divert, or deepen a body of water. The project agency must consult with the federal and state agencies responsible for the affected fish and wildlife, and mitigate impacts so as to “to obtain maximum overall project benefits.”[278] States have authority for managing wildlife on the project lands except in the case of migratory birds (hunting of these is managed by the state).[279] The project agency is also directed to inform Congress if additional land acquisition may be needed to ensure “the wildlife potentials of the particular project area.”[280] Specific mention is made of the need to safeguard fish and wildlife resources of the Upper Mississippi River while also maintaining the various river control structures and water depths commensurate with commerce.[281]

Federal “properties” in marine settings are somewhat poorly organized. The only clear system of such areas is the National Marine Sanctuary System created by the National Marine Sanctuaries Act[282] and is managed by the Office of National Marine Sanctuaries within NOAA.[283] The purpose of the act relevant to protection of migrants is “to maintain the natural biological communities in the national marine sanctuaries, and to protect, and, where appropriate, restore and enhance natural habitats, populations, and ecological processes,”[284] by enhancing “public awareness, understanding, appreciation, and wise and sustainable use of the marine environment, and the natural, historical, cultural, and archeological resources of the National Marine Sanctuary System.”[285] The remaining property-like areas of federal jurisdiction encompass a variety of marine protected areas including national parks and national monuments, managed as part of the national park system or the national wildlife refuge system and potentially in partnership with NOAA and relevant states. No single system of rules governs these protected areas, but all the relevant federal management agencies have policies supporting conservation or sustainable use.

In summary, as in terrestrial settings, federal managers of aquatic “properties” have the option to extend support to migratory species, but have no mandate requiring them to do so. The island-like nature of these systems means that they rarely protect entire migratory routes of migratory species, but may provide food and shelter along the way, or breeding or resting grounds where they constitute endpoints for some migrants. As a side note, several of the agencies involved in managing these aquatic settings—Bureau of Reclamation, the Army Corps of Engineers, NOAA—do not include conservation among their primary missions.

b. State Waters

Public trust doctrine reserves the responsibility for the beds and banks of navigable rivers, and all submerged tidal lands (coasts and estuaries) for states to protect for their citizens.[286] The ability to access and use these areas for the traditional three areas of navigation, commerce, and fishing is protected by most states for all citizens, to at least some extent.[287] Some states go considerably further, broadening the definition of “navigable waters”; by defining a public trust responsibility for aquatic biodiversity, water quality, and, in rare cases, for terrestrial wildlife as well.[288] States have broad discretion in defining the public trust, however this mechanism provides only the right to define the public trust; states bear no responsibility to expand the public trust beyond maintaining public ownership and access to the aquatic areas to which they were originally granted title.[289] Thus, public trust doctrine has very patchy impact on migratory species that use aquatic habitats; in worst cases, the responsibility for protecting a public trust in fishing may be interpreted to permit introduction of nonnative fish species in the name of providing access to fishing.[290]

Most states undertake fisheries management of resident species as part of the mission of the relevant state agency. In this context, state management of aquatic species and habitats differs little from management of terrestrial species and habitats. We discuss species management in the following Subpart.

3. Wildlife Management in the Context of Species Management

We distinguish species management—in which managers have authority to manage wildlife species at a larger landscape or ecosystem scale, across property boundaries—from land management, in which managers have authority to manage several aspects of natural resources, including wildlife, within their property boundaries.

FWS has broad authority over harvest and other take of migratory birds, under the MBTA,[291] and over endangered species, under the ESA.[292] In addition, FWS provides assistance to states in managing interjurisdictional fishes.[293] State wildlife agencies have authority to set harvest limits and enforce wildlife laws across their states, including harvest plans for migratory birds.[294]

Species management in coastal waters is divided among state and federal agencies. In coastal waters, states manage estuaries and the first three miles of water, including harvest of marine species in those waters.[295] NOAA manages waters between three miles and two hundred miles off shore—the bulk of the EEZ.[296] NOAA oversees fisheries management under the Magnuson-Stevens Fishery Conservation and Management Act,[297] working jointly with states.[298] NOAA also manages marine mammals jointly with FWS under the Marine Mammal Protection Act (MMPA).[299]

Statutes that protect species rarely provide guidance with respect to desirable population sizes. Although the MBTA was created to protect migratory birds, it provides no clear guidelines to FWS concerning desirable population levels of these species. The Magnuson-Stevens Act directs NOAA to manage its fisheries for anadromous and highly-migratory fishes for optimum yield, but makes no specific statements about population levels that must be protected in the event that maximum-yield management fails to recover and maintain stocks.[300] The MMPA, alone among the broad taxonomic legal protections, makes provision for desirable populations levels; it directs NOAA and FWS to manage for optimum sustainable populations of marine mammals and provides direction for recovering depleted stocks to optimum sustainable levels.[301]

No specific provisions cover other migratory species including inland migratory fishes, migratory mammals, reptiles, amphibians, and invertebrates; these groups find their only protections through state game and non-game programs, land management, and the ESA. Conservation-oriented NGOs, particularly taxonomically specific NGOs such as Trout Unlimited, Ducks Unlimited, the Wild Turkey Federation, and the Rocky Mountain Bighorn Sheep Society work collaboratively to protect some or all species across the range of lands protected by their private, state, and federal partners.

Thus, species-specific management protects migratory species very unevenly, and results are not what a reading of relevant statues might suggest. Even where specific laws protect migratory species, only fish and marine mammals are protected at levels that might result in ecological relevance, and results on the ground indicate these levels are not necessarily easily achieved. Many species are not the focus of any program, and changes in their status might easily go unnoticed.

B. Management Tools for Conserving Migratory Species

Given the popular focus on technological gadgets and solutions of all kinds, the public could be forgiven for assuming that the routes and habits of migratory species are well known and that managers have finely developed strategies and techniques for supporting migratory species. As we suggest in the closing paragraphs of Part II, technology does offer a range of new tools for learning about migratory species, but the very fact of their novelty means they have been in use only a short time, and many are still prohibitively expensive to use on a large scale.[302] However, many more traditional techniques, and less expensive technologies are in use.[303] As in previous Subparts, we distinguish between managers of specific properties—here, called land managers, but encompassing those whose land is underwater—and those who manage wildlife. Within these categories, tools tend to be used by managers of all kinds (if costs permit)—whether working for private landowners, NGOs, or state or federal agencies.

1. Tools for Land Management

Land management encompasses a wide variety of activities that affect migratory species. Habitat management includes manipulation of hydrology and vegetation on terrestrial sites; of flow velocity, substrate, and cover in stream and lake sites; or of substrate and cover in marine sites.[304] Usually these actions are designed to provide food and cover.[305] Provision or protection of nesting or denning sites and other special needs may also require manipulation of hydrology and vegetation, but could also include provision of nesting structures, restricting public access to breeding or other aggregations areas (e.g., roosting sites for colonial birds, haul-out areas for marine mammals, portions of reefs best suited for nursery habitat). Land management to protect migrants may also involve managing disturbance regimes (e.g., fire, flood, grazing, mowing, and tidal influences), and control of invasive plants and animals. Land acquisition by public land agencies can be used to target sites of particular importance to migrants. Within property boundaries, enforcement of hunting, fishing, and other protection laws is also an important form of management. Collaboration among agencies and between agencies and the public can serve to enlarge the effective area available for conservation and improve the landscape properties of the network of managed lands. Several land management agencies have outreach programs that assist private landowners in creating or restoring wildlife habitat are particularly useful in increasing habitat availability for migrants.[306] Public education is also useful in creating public support and for recruiting private landowners to use outreach assistance programs.

2. Tools for Species Management

When linked to specific properties, species management concerns will include the points listed in the previous Part. However, managers responsible for protecting migratory species throughout a jurisdiction—state, region, or nation—must consider the entire landscape of a migration and threats and obstacles that may occur at any point along the route within their area of responsibility. Short-distance migrants, particularly those whose migration is encompassed with the boundaries of a public property (e.g., salamander movement from forest to breeding streams,[307] snake movements to and from hibernacula)[308] can be managed very similarly to non-migratory species with multiple habitat needs. However, longer-distance migrants will pose additional challenges related to their needs during migration.[309]

Species management includes information gathering concerning species’ demographics and species’ ranges and movements. Research and monitoring programs, including citizen-science programs such as the North American Amphibian Monitoring Program, Christmas Bird Count, and Breeding Bird Survey, are some of the methods of learning about wildlife and fisheries demographics. Mark-recapture techniques are particularly useful for studying migration,[310] as are radio and satellite transmitters that can be attached to fish and wildlife in order to track individuals across the landscape.[311] When fragmentation has affected populations, translocations among existing populations may be used to bolster declining populations and enrich depleted gene pools. Creation of new populations with new migration traditions, such as teaching Whooping Cranes migration routes using ultralight aircraft, has been practiced for several years.[312] In other instances, new populations are specifically positioned so that migration will not be necessary, as a hedge for species in which migration mortality is problematical.[313]

Species management also includes a variety of mechanism to affect demographic processes. For harvested species, species management includes setting of hunting and fishing seasons, gear restrictions, and limits on numbers and kinds of animals to be harvested—typically age, gender, and size classes. Enforcement of hunting and protection laws also affects demographic rates. At a larger scale, FWS has committees that issue voluntary guidelines and assists with programs to reduce mortality to migratory birds from tall buildings, communications towers, wind farms, and other collision risks.[314] Finally, as with land management, outreach and public education are important to build public support and recruit private landowners to become part of the solution.

3. Interjurisdictional, Landscape-Scale Management

For longer-distance migrants whose routes cross property, state, and international boundaries, conservation should include an assessment of the ability of the landscape along the entire migration route to support the species in question. Creating such landscapes is largely an exercise in collaboration among conservation organizations and recruitment of private landowners. For migrants that are FWS trust species,[315] FWS leads such efforts, drawing on such non-legislatively-created programs such as Partners in Flight,[316] and NGOs such as the Nature Conservancy and the Audubon Society, in addition to relevant state agencies.[317]

Among the federal lands, only the national wildlife refuges, through the NWRSIA, and the National Parks, through their policies, have a specific mandate to assess the conservation role of their managed properties in the larger landscape. The Forest Service and FWS have outreach programs to private landowners that can contribute to habitat management in the larger landscape that may benefit migrants.

At the state level, State Wildlife Action Plans (SWAPs) often provide a mechanism for collaborative conservation efforts.[318] Congress did not require that SWAPs address migrations; however, the collaborative structures that some states are developing serve as good models for the collaborative efforts needed to build landscape solutions to migration conservation.[319] State agencies can collaborate among themselves to manage species across state lines, but they can also draw on a much larger range of potential collaborators both to secure funding for landscape-scale efforts and to put together networks of properties on the ground to support migration. For species that migrate across international boundaries, or through the high seas, international collaborations provide the only method of conservation over the entire migration route. A variety of treaties already assist in such conservation, as discussed in the Part III of this Article. In addition, a variety of agency and collaborative programs exist to assist with conservation of migrants, but without force of law. Some of the former are listed in Part III; examples of the latter include Partners in Flight, mentioned earlier in this Part.

C. Migration Typology for Managers

In this Part, we develop a typology of migratory species similar to that constructed in Part II of this Article. However, whereas Part II uses the categories and distinctions arising from research results, our typology here arises from the concerns of land and wildlife managers.

Managers concerned with migratory species need to know the importance of managed land to the species in question. Species that complete their entire migratory route on a single property, such as many species of reptiles and amphibians,[320] can be considered resident species with potentially complex habitat needs.[321] Outside threats and the nature of the larger landscape will not affect the individuals on the property.

To migratory species that migrate longer distances along a broad front,[322] a small property along the migratory route may be relatively unimportant. In contrast, such a property may be much more important to a species with a narrow migration route, such as migratory pronghorn antelope (Antilocapra americana) whose migration route leads them through narrow valleys in Wyoming,[323] or shorebirds that rely on uncommon coastal mudflats.[324] Larger properties, by virtue of their size and the increased habitat diversity they typically contain, are likely to be of importance to a larger range of long-distance migrants.

Managers providing stopover or pass-through habitat to long-distance migrants will be concerned with the timing of the migration and the nature of species’ needs along the migratory route. Short-term measures such as road closures or careful hunting guidelines may be all that some migrants—particularly those that do not feed during migration—need to pass safely in sufficient numbers.[325] For species that feed during migration, habitat management along the route may include providing food resources necessary for completing their journey.[326] Food resources are less often provided for migratory species that are predatory, such as hawks and owls.[327]

Connectivity needs of migrants will determine whether a series of “stepping stone” safe havens provides adequate protection, or whether some more continuous corridor or network is needed. Managers need information on the nature of obstacles species may encounter on migration. Migrating fish have been entirely eliminated from rivers due to dams that prevent migration to spawning areas.[328] Large mammal migrations have been frustrated by fences.[329] Migrations may pass through natural or anthropogenic physical bottlenecks, or natural bottlenecks rendered more dangerous by human actions such as habitat fragmentation. Such high-risk areas may be rendered safer through acquisition efforts to bring the land into conservation ownership under a government agency or NGO, or efforts to secure conservation easements on land that otherwise remains in private ownership.

Sources of mortality that are specific to migration, or that are more prevalent along migratory routes must be addressed to ensure conservation of migrants and migrations. For hunted species, information about non-hunting mortality can be used to adjust hunting seasons and take limits. Migratory birds and bats often face increased mortality on migration due to obstructions such as fences, power transmission lines, skyscrapers, and wind power turbines. The latter are particularly likely to be concentrated along flight lines, as migrants often take advantage of favorable winds that are also attractive for wind power.[330] Polluted waters and ponded oil are also threats to these species.[331]

Climate change increasingly affects phenology (timing) and demographics of migrants.[332] Research suggests that species with plastic responses to climate change respond most rapidly to climate change.[333] Thus, managers can benefit from information concerning the plasticity of migration to prioritize efforts and to predict where and when migrants may alter their routes or endpoints.

Finally, managers need information about diseases faced and carried by migrants, both to protect migratory species and to protect human populations. Long-distance migrants can serve as effective vectors of novel diseases. Most of these are diseases that do not jump to humans, but may threaten resident wildlife species, as well as those migrant species that carry the disease. The recent emergence of white-nose syndrome in bats clearly demonstrates the devastating mortality that may result in these instances.[334] Affected populations of the common little brown bat (Myotis lucifugus) have been reduced by over ninety percent, and, in some instances, eliminated altogether.[335] When diseases can jump to humans, wildlife managers and human health workers need to share information quickly to ensure that human populations are protected in a timely fashion. Efforts against avian influenza provide a good model for such work.[336]

V. Discussion

The typologies we have presented here serve different user groups. It would be surprising if they were entirely parallel in their structure and range. However, in order for migrants to be well protected, scientists must address the information needs of policy makers and managers; policy makers must craft laws and policies that incorporate scientific information and management realities, and managers must integrate scientific information into management strategies, guided by the laws and policies that outline their responsibilities. Among scientists, only those scientists employed by or working with land and wildlife management agencies answer to the information needs of the managers and policymakers of the agencies and the publics they serve. All wildlife managers, in contrast, are limited in what they can contemplate by laws and policies that dictate their powers and responsibilities. The boundaries between management and law are thus somewhat fuzzy, and the communication potentially asymmetrical; whereas managers are bound to follow law and policy, policy makers are not required to consult at length with those whose options they affect.

The existence of gaps within and among research, law, and policy disciplines has clear implications for conservation of migratory species. The present plight of eastern migratory bats serves as a harsh reminder of these. This group includes the Indiana bat (Myotis sodalis), an endangered species that migrates up to 500 kilometers from summer habitat in deciduous forest to hibernacula in caves and mines.[337] Despite the endangered status of Indiana bats, and despite U.S. responsibilities under the MBTA, mortality of bats and birds caused by wind turbines was addressed by FWS only through advisory guidelines until an Indiana bat was found dead near a wind turbine in 2009.[338] This finding coincided with the beginning of what seems destined to be a nationwide outbreak of a new epizootic—white-nose syndrome (WNS)—which causes approximately forty percent mortality of Indiana bats in areas that it invades,[339] and greater than ninety percent mortality of the once-abundant little brown bat.[340] At least in the Northeast, little brown bats may in the future be listed under the Endangered Species Act, and the wind turbines that have been known for several years to kill thousands of bats[341] will then be regulated under the ESA over the range of both Indiana bats and little brown bats.

The impact of white-nose syndrome on little brown bats was only discovered during counts initiated for Indiana bats.[342] Had monitoring data been collected for migratory bats more widely before white-nose appeared, we might be able to disentangle the presently confounded effects of turbines and disease, and we might have clearer understandings of the population trends of other once-common bats that may also now be declining rapidly.[343] However, bats are one of the groups of migrants for which no federal oversight exists, and as nongame species generally lacking in charisma, overstretched state programs have not generally tracked them. Thus, present knowledge concerning unendangered migratory species is a result of a patchwork of limited state efforts, and population trend information is largely lacking.

Stricter takings restrictions and more extensive research under the MBTA to protect migratory birds would have limited the number of wind turbines deployed, as turbines are a significant source of mortality;[344] researchers recently projected that each turbine will kill thousands to tens of thousands of bats by 2020 in some locations.[345] Now, with white-nosed syndrome suddenly causing catastrophic mortality in some bat species and significant mortality in others, and with wind turbines as an additional mortality source, wildlife managers have few legal mechanisms to protect previously common bats before they become endangered, and very little data with which to analyze the relative impacts of the various sources of mortality and determine the urgency of the resulting trends.

To date, the ESA is the only statute compelling acquisition of data on species trends and on white-nose syndrome generally, and the only statute with the potential to force regulation on turbines as a source of wildlife mortality, but the ESA only compels regulation for listed endangered taxa. On the science side, significant gaps in demographic information—trends and sources of mortality—hamper efforts to determine relative risks to non-endangered taxa; on the legal side, bats represent a significant gap in legislation protecting migrants; on the management side, managers lack the resources and initiative to track species that fall within their general but not specific responsibilities.

In this Part, we begin by identifying overlaps and synergies in the approaches of science, law, and management described in Parts II, III, and IV. Such overlaps are often incomplete and not surprisingly have different motivating interests. We then identify gaps within science, law, and management that currently hamper effective conservation of migratory species. We conclude by making recommendations where we find potential means of bridging these gaps and indicate the areas we believe represent long-term challenges.

A. Synergies in Migration Research, Policy, and Management

Migratory species and migration hold different interests for scientists, the legal community, and wildlife managers, and the first three Parts of this Article illustrate the variation in the categories of knowledge that arise as a result. Nevertheless, areas of overlap also arise among the three fields. In some cases, as we will see, these are close matches in the mapping of species or behaviors. In other cases, superficial similarities break down upon closer investigation.

Science identifies distinctions among kinds of migrations and migrations without regard to the immediate usefulness of such distinctions for policy makers and managers. However, basic research has always been justified as an important undertaking in its own right,[346] and in a rapidly changing world, it is impossible to predict what research may suddenly become relevant.

The typologies of science include a number of distinctions of importance both to policy and to management. For example, information about the importance of specific sites to migratory species—whether the migration is broad-fronted or narrow-fronted, about migratory paths, and about habitat needs during migration—affects policy decisions to protect certain properties and certain habitats, and informs managers of the relative importance of properties and habitats for species of interest. In contrast, evolutionary information is less immediately obvious in its link to policy. Nevertheless, mechanistic information can be useful in some circumstances; information about the importance of sex hormones in regulating migratory behavior, previously of mostly academic interest, now suggest endocrine-disrupting compounds (EDCs), a class of environmental pollutants, may disrupt normal migration timing.[347] Thus, information about EDCs may become relevant to regulations that protect affected species or taxa and to managers designing monitoring programs to track timing and other aspects of migratory behavior.

Taxonomic distinctions may arise in laws protecting migratory species, such as the MBTA, MMPA, and the Magnuson-Stevens Act, but these statutes borrow the structure of scientific taxonomy for the purposes of responding to a strong public interest and may reflect historical patterns of resources use. Scientific information is needed in order to craft effective law for the taxa of interest, but efficient protection of migrants might suggest different taxonomic groupings in some instances. Thus, fish and marine mammals share many of the same difficulties as migratory species, yet they are protected by separate statutes on commercial grounds and present considerable differences in charisma. If whaling were still a common commercial enterprise, fish and whales might not have separate statutes governing their take and conservation. Similarly, migrating bats and birds presently share many of the same needs and threats. However, the MBTA was a response to historic take of birds for the millinery trade and for market hunting that caused no equivalent mortality for bats,[348] and certainly public interest in bats was not in evidence at the time. Despite the present parallels between the taxa, we are aware of no calls for broadening the reach of the MBTA beyond birds.

Statutes enabling or directing land acquisition for migrants use scientific information about needs of migrants to ensure effective acquisitions. Thus, much of the National Wildlife Refuge system is the result of acquisition of wetlands and riverine habitats to protect migratory birds, particularly waterfowl,[349]using funds from the Duck Stamp Act.[350] Statutes interpreting treaties (and extra legal programs protecting habitat for migrants) such as the Ramsar Convention[351] and the Western Hemisphere Shorebird Reserve Network[352] also work from the science concerning these migrants to determine what parcels best serve needs of target species.

As the examples above concerning broad-fronted migrations and endocrine-disrupting compounds indicate, management, like law, shares some of the typologies of science; however, it by no means shares them all. Information about partial and complete migrations may be less relevant for land managers, who will be more concerned simply to know that a particular species migrates to their properties than to know the specifics of which sexes and age classes will be most common. However, species managers concerned with a particularly vulnerable demographic, or those who set harvest restrictions on the basis of sex and age class will make use of the latter information as well as the former. Specifics such as which species pause on migration will be of use both to policymakers considering mechanisms to protect habitat needed in such locations and to managers who manage species and land. Knowledge of species’ needs during migration pauses will be of use to managers, but also to designers and directors of incentive programs to increase food and cover for migratory species on private lands.

Until fairly recently, information about timing and cues for migration would have been of limited use to managers. The general timeframes of migration for major species were known, and could be considered relatively stable. However, managers can benefit from understanding how climate change may affect migration phenology, and from studies that reveal disconnects between related changes in phenology, such as migration timing that loses synchrony with important resources at the migration endpoint.[353] In this area, managers might benefit from considerably more data than is presently available or likely to become available in the near future. Presently, such fine-scale examples of climate change impacts to migrants have aroused no interest in the legal arena.

The preceding discussion suggests that most scientific information about migration and migratory species may be of at least some use to managers. Policymakers focus more specifically on information that helps them understand what constitutes risk for migratory species and how that risk is best reduced or mitigated. Conservation law, in contrast to regulatory law, generally leaves fine detail to the agencies to incorporate into policy guidelines; these are more easily modified to encompass new information.[354]

The interrelatedness of policy and management leads to similarities in their typologies because policy defines many aspects of management. Managers manage lands acquired to protect migrants, employ, and direct programs designed to assist migratory species, and design and enforce regulations against take and harm. In addition, managers make distinctions related to the tools and approaches available to them.

Overall, the wide-ranging interests of science often produce information of at least some use to managers. However, science is rarely exhaustive in producing parallel information for all migratory species, despite the fact that managers must protect them all. Management typologies draw more from applied than from basic science; many aspects of management typologies are motivated by the constraints and responsibilities created by legal statutes. These, in turn, are more likely to be responsive to political pressures and public interest than to scientific distinctions, some of which may be at odds with policy interests.[355]

B. Gaps in Migration Conservation

In Part I, we stated that effective conservation of migrants requires coordinated work by researchers, policy makers, and managers. Such coordination can be difficult precisely because the three disciplines view migrants differently, as we have illustrated in the previous Parts. Here, we identify places where efforts to conserve migratory species are incompletely coordinated among the three disciplines.

1. Gaps in Scientific Information to Support Conservation of Migratory Species.

The rich typology of migration that arises from scientific research amply demonstrates the wide range of areas of inquiries available for scientists to pursue. However, much of the information needed by managers in order to effectively conserve migratory species breaks little of the new ground of basic science. For example, the details of geographic pathways, migration timing, and behavior are needed for many species, but it is unlikely that simply establishing geographic detail for additional species will be of great interest to academic biologists, despite the fact that this information will be of fundamental importance to wildlife managers and policymakers. Further, from a scientist’s perspective, much routine demographic or behavioral monitoring is not viewed as science, but as data collection in search of a question.[356] Instead, standard practice in science is to first develop research hypotheses that break new ground in explaining the natural world, then to collect the data necessary to assess the hypotheses.

Managers, in contrast, may need similar kinds of data for many species or contexts—at most modest new ground for science, but important for conservation of a diversity of species. Similarly, although year-to-year variation in behavior and demography is important to science from time to time in order to answer certain kinds of questions, it is of ongoing interest to managers in order to assess the status of the species they manage.

Harvestable migratory species attract considerable attention from managers and policy makers, but relatively little from basic science in part because their demographics are so strongly affected by human intervention that much of the science related to these species is, almost by definition, applied rather than basic in its direction. As is often the case, when basic science information does become available, as in studies of the evolutionary impact of harvesting systems on harvested species, the results are of interest to managers.[357] Other areas of human impact (e.g., bottlenecks in migration routes created by development and other land uses, obstacles and fragmenting effects) also create information needs for managers that are more often addressed by applied sciences such as wildlife ecology and management and conservation biology.

Managers can and do undertake to monitor wildlife species. However, most are not trained in the research methods and principles of study design needed for efficient monitoring, or in the more complex forms of analysis that may be needed to untangle the many factors affecting population size or behaviors such as migration timing.[358] In addition, most management agencies lack funds necessary to commit to the kind of consistent effort required to document long-term migration patterns through monitoring.[359] Adding to information needs, climate change and habitat alteration constantly rewrite the details of migrations, requiring that even well-described species be revisited and monitored at least from time to time if their migrations are to remain sufficiently well understood for effective conservation. Citizen scientists can accomplish some of this information gathering,[360] but not all of it. Partnerships of managers with academic scientists (most often, but not always, from applied disciplines) and with agency scientists can improve the quality of both monitoring and analysis, but such collaborations may require additional funds, and open-mindedness on all sides.

To close gaps between research science, the law, and management of migratory species, it will be important for conservation practitioners and scientists to identify ways to form collaborative research agendas aimed at establishing the basic geography of migratory routes and targeting unanswered questions in evolution, ecology, and animal behavior, including questions about the demography, seasonality, sociality, genetics, learning, and physiology of migrations. In addition to geography, these latter topics also represent important information needs for land managers that could enable more precise management strategies. Thus, it is not difficult to imagine future migration research projects that fuse basic and applied agendas. For example, future research examining the demographic and physiological mechanisms underlying the evolution of differential migration could simultaneously establish fine-scale geographic information for the species in question. Data collection protocols and analytic techniques established for such studies could serve as models for broader monitoring and research on additional species.

One method of motivating collaborative research to support policy and management needs of migratory species is by modifying existing funding mechanisms. Funds that support migration research come from a wide range of uncoordinated sources. Funding for migration that originates with national research funds provided by the National Science Foundation (NSF) or by scientific societies with specific taxonomic or disciplinary focus (e.g., the Animal Behavior Society, the American Ornithologists’ Union) typically does not focus specifically on migration, and funding decisions typically receive little input from either policy makers or managers. These funding sources are focused on basic research, although the NSF has recently begun to assess broader impacts of proposals, in addition to the traditional criterion of the intellectual merit of the proposed research.[361] Conservation groups such as Bat Conservation International and Partners in Flight provide limited funding that may specifically focus on applied migration studies.[362]

Some current funding initiatives overlap with needs for migration research, but only narrowly. Presently, climate change research is well supported by basic research funds from both private foundations as well as United States federal government agencies, including, but not limited to, the National Aeronautics and Space Administration, NSF, the Department of Energy, and the Department of Commerce.[363] However it seems that most of this research is focused on atmospheric, physical, and environmental sciences, with less emphasis placed specifically on biological research.[364] Although some methods to predict future habitat and impacts to resources used by migrants are being refined by information generated in climate change research, other aspects of migration are not consistently funded through these sources. Similarly, new Department of Interior research centers focused on climate change (e.g., the National Phenology Network; the National Climate Change and Wildlife Science Center)[365] and the National Institutes of Health in their focus on wildlife disease vectors,[366] will provide useful information for managers but only within the narrow area in which their work intersects with topics in migration.

The Department of the Interior (primarily through the Biological Resources Division of the USGS),[367] the research arm of the Forest Service, the states (e.g., from the SWAPs),[368] and programs designed to support hunting and fishing (Pittman-Robertson and Dingell-Johnson funds[369]) support research that generally seeks to meet wildlife and land management needs of state and federal natural resource agencies. However, migration studies are not broadly identified as a priority for such research.

Overall, migration research could serve conservation needs more consistently and efficiently with additional coordination among funding sources. As outlined in the conclusion to Part I, present research directions include, but are not at all limited to, areas that would benefit conservation of migrants and migration. A collaborative effort among major stakeholders interested in research outcomes could identify both high-value targets and low-value targets, without interfering with autonomy of the funding sources. High-value targets include the poorly known migratory routes of economically, ecologically, and culturally important marine species (e.g., whales and fish stocks), and low-effort information targets, include the arrival and departure dates of easily observed migratory birds (which could be obtained via low-cost citizen-science efforts). Such an effort, perhaps in the form of a regular workshop or conference session, could be facilitated by FWS, the USGS, or by an NGO with relevant expertise.

2. Gaps in Laws and Policies

Migrations occur over an enormous range of geographic scales, from migrations up and down trees by tropical tree frogs that breed on the ground, to hemisphere-spanning migrations of birds and marine species. Laws and policies have a difficult task in protecting long-distance migrants, because these species tend to cross more political and ownership boundaries. They therefore need more or higher-level (e.g., federal or international) protection than shorter-distance migrants. Shorter-distance migrants, as in the case of some reptiles and amphibians, are more easily protected within a single jurisdiction, or even a single property; however, some obvious vulnerabilities remain. Here, we identify threats to migrants that are correlated with geographic scale, such as difficulties of coordination across political boundaries, as well as other threats that exist across many geographic scales, such as habitat fragmentation. We differentiate between obstacles that physically impede animal movements, such as fences and dams, and thus act to fragment landscapes, and obstacles that are sources of mortality that threaten the integrity of populations of migrants, such as legal and illegal take and collisions with wind turbines. We identify gaps in existing policies and laws, and discuss the relative ease with which these gaps can be addressed.

a. Gaps in Addressing Fragmentation and Obstacles

Habitat fragmentation[370] and obstacles can affect migrants at almost any geographic scale. Fragmentation may be caused by changes in land cover—conversion of land to agriculture, expansion of urban areas, impacts of climate change. Obstacles may contribute to fragmentation by impeding movements across and over landscapes or through waterways; alternatively, they may limit the numbers of individuals that successfully complete such movements not by blocking movement but by increasing mortality.[371] The daily migrations of plankton are, perhaps safe from fragmentation for now, as are the brief migrations of tropical tree frogs from the tops of the trees to the puddles at their bases. However, many short, overland migrations are impeded by roads—particularly those of reptiles and amphibians moving among wetland complexes, or between wetlands and uplands.[372] These species are also vulnerable to loss of wetlands, which may increase the distance they must move in order to breed. This increases exposure to roads and to predators, as well as simply reducing habitat availability. The reduction shrinks populations and increases the risks of inbreeding and chance extinction. Fences can be serious obstacles to migrants, but they are often an unavoidable aspect of rangelands. Fences have caused significant mortality by preventing necessary migrations in North America and in Africa.[373] Aquatic migrants face dams that reduce or eliminate their ability to complete migrations.[374]

Roads can be rendered permeable to overland migrants through the use of raised stretches and culverts that permit passage under the roadbed, but raised roads are usually prohibitively expensive, and predators can learn to exploit narrow corridors such as culverts.[375] Fencing can be rendered more permeable[376] or removed entirely, but since fencing often occurs on private lands, such changes may be difficult to achieve over large areas.[377] One fence erected by one landowner can have disastrous consequences for a migrating population.[378] Dams eliminate or curtail normal migratory routes of fish, and the success of mitigations depends on the particular circumstances.[379] In both the terrestrial and aquatic situations, some obstacles can be mitigated, but not all.

Obstacles that do not fragment habitat by impeding movement still imperil migrants and migrations by killing individual migrants, in some cases in large numbers.[380] Aerial migrations of bats and birds are threatened by mortality caused by obstacles such as fences, wind turbines, communications and energy transmission towers, and tall buildings.[381] As these vertical obstacles multiply on the landscape, more and more migration paths are likely to intersect them, particularly because migratory flight paths are often characterized by consistent winds and high ridges that are high-quality sites for wind energy and transmission towers.[382] Sometimes managers know how to reduce the impacts of such obstacles, but the techniques are not systematically applied, particularly when they increase costs, and there is no legal mandate to do so. Sometimes the solution is not apparent.[383] Bird migrations also face considerable legal and illegal harvest mortality, sometimes along the entire migration route, as is the case for migratory waterfowl, and sometimes only at certain bottlenecks or over certain countries where such hunting is acceptable.[384]

Aquatic migrants face obstacles that cause mortality in the form of legal and illegal harvesting by weir, net, and hook. Some aspects of bycatch during legal harvest have been significantly reduced by technology, such as devices that exclude sea turtles from fishing nets or frighten sea birds away from the baited fishing hooks on longlines during deployment,[385] but many migratory species still face substantial legal mortality.[386]

Land-based obstacles such as roads, fences, turbines, and towers are either typically in the legal purview of federal agencies without primary responsibility for wildlife conservation, such as the FCC’s regulation of towers,[387] or are otherwise left for state and local governments to regulate. Federal laws that can significantly influence siting decisions for such obstacles are primarily those that explicitly forbid take—the MBTA[388] and ESA—although section 404 of the Clean Water Act[389] and section 4(f) of the Department of Transportation Act of 1966[390] also have some influence on siting decisions. The ESA and MBTA are limited tools for regulating fragmentation and obstacles. The ESA cannot be used to protect the great many migrations that are declining but not yet on the brink of extinction, although such migrants may in some circumstances benefit from ESA habitat conservation plans and recovery plans for already-listed species. The MBTA’s reach does not require migratory bird populations to be threatened with extinction before sanctions can be imposed, but the MBTA, unlike the ESA, cannot be used to regulate land use directly through permitting of incidental take, although the agency can leverage the MBTA to control siting and design through the exercise of enforcement discretion. Federal laws and policies thus provide few tools, other than perhaps financial incentives, to reduce fragmentation and obstacles to migration and mortality to non-endangered species.

Public lands can be managed, at least in part, in ways that reduce fragmentation, but even national parks can be crossed by power lines when the need is judged to be sufficiently strong.[391] Although individual land managers of agencies can more freely manage migration obstacles on their own properties, they generally cannot affect decisions on private lands that cause obstacles to be constructed, other than through education and other forms of persuasion.[392] Note, however, that the Property Clause of the United States Constitution allows the federal government, to some extent not yet fully delineated, to regulate activities on private and state-owned land if the regulated activities threaten the designated purposes of the public land.[393]

Acquisition of property interests is a powerful tool for reducing fragmentation and preventing the imposition of obstacles on the landscape. Acquisition has limitations as a means to combat fragmentation, however, and we have too few funds and too little public forbearance to acquire our way out of the problems faced by migrants. Considerable participation by the public and particularly by private landowners will be needed to ensure long-term protection at the necessary scale.

The acquisition approach by itself also fails to protect migrants from obstacles such as towers, buildings, or wind turbines—there are simply too many such obstacles to solve the problem by acquisition. States have substantially more authority under their police powers to regulate such obstacles, and local governments generally may regulate siting and construction of obstacles under such powers delegated from the state, provided that the subject area is not already regulated by the state. The problem with state and local regulation of migration obstacles is that this strategy does not answer the need for uniform standards and best management practices on the design and operation of such obstacles.

b. Jurisdictional Gaps

Migrants, particularly those that move over long distances, experience multiple jurisdictions as they cross state or national boundaries, or the boundaries of agency jurisdictions. As an example, species that migrate through water for at least part of their journey can encounter several jurisdictions, even at relatively small geographic scales: when migrants move from water to land they may cross jurisdictions from state-managed waters to privately-managed land. In a move from near-shore coastal waters to outer coastal waters to the high seas they pass from state jurisdiction to federal jurisdiction and then to waters governed only by international treaties.

Inland migratory fishes are largely under state management, but are affected by federal agencies that manage dams. FWS views inland migratory fishes as trust species, but has no current legal authority over them, and instead provides assistance to those agencies that do have authority. Such assistance does not necessarily unify management: the Mississippi River migratory fishes are the subject of at least three voluntary umbrella management organizations, all involving FWS: the Upper Mississippi River Conservation Committee, Lower Mississippi River Conservation Committee, and the Mississippi Interstate Cooperative Resource Association.[394]

Fragmented jurisdiction over migratory populations makes migrations more difficult to protect. Other than consultation provisions such as section 7 of the ESA, a handful of federal executive orders and interagency agreements, and a limited number of regional associations among states, the problem of jurisdictional fragmentation remains an obstacle to providing uniform and coordinated protections for migratory populations as they move through their migration cycle.

c. Taxonomic Gaps

To date, in the United States, birds (MBTA) and marine mammals (MMPA) have the clearest legal protection at the federal level, followed by migratory sport and commercial fish species (Magnuson-Stevens Act). However, migrating terrestrial mammals, including several species of big game and bats (several of the latter migrate internationally), are presently protected only by extralegal mechanisms such as the collaboration supported by the Western Governor’s Association[395] or by collaborative programs such as the Program for the Conservation of Migratory Bats of Mexico and the United States.[396] Migratory insects also lack any overall coordinated protection. Although monarch butterflies are the focus of a host of national and international programs, they still suffer considerable loss of habitat,[397] and no program and little research deals with migrating dragonflies or other insects.

d. Gaps in Spatial Coverage

Just as the legal structures that seek to protect migrants specifically or biodiversity generally leave important taxa unprotected, and protect others at levels that do not fully protect society’s values for migrants, protected lands systems leave important gaps in spatial coverage for many migratory species. Of the federal lands systems, only the National Wildlife Refuge system has been shaped with any emphasis on migrants, and even the refuges have a stronger focus on migratory birds, often with a special emphasis on migratory waterfowl.[398] Some states are collaborating to protect migration corridors,[399] but such efforts are relatively new for state wildlife agencies. Marine protected-area systems have also not been designed with migrants in mind, and the jurisdictional boundaries of the oceans are no more conducive to effective conservation than are international boundaries on land.

e. Limitations on Protection at Ecologically Relevant Levels

Even when statutes and programs exist to protect migratory taxa, they do not protect all the aspects of migration that may have value to the public: economic, social, psychological, ecological, etc. Protecting these public values of migrations may require abundances well over minimum viable populations, possibly even approaching historical levels. Present programs have not consistently protected populations near historical levels except in the case of migratory waterfowl. Indeed, only the MMPA and Magnuson-Stevens Act have specific statutory language describing desirable population sizes; agency discretion is the only other source of such standards. The various laws that deal with migrants tangentially, as a part of larger biodiversity targets, do not close the gap.

f. Summary of Law and Policy Gaps

Overall, existing laws and policies protect migratory species unevenly among taxa, among geographic scales of migrations, and across ownership and political boundaries. Jurisdictional fragmentation, landscape fragmentation, and sources of mortality all create substantial roadblocks to efficient conservation, particularly for long-distance migrants.[400] Migratory species and migration as a phenomenon are no more a strong focus of legal research and activity than they are a strong focus for scientific research. Where laws do provide protection, they rarely do so at abundance levels that protect the ecological roles or social values of the species in question. Existing laws are not entirely without merit however, and in some instances, could be strengthened by amendment, or by modification of the policy guidelines that interpret the statute. For example, as we discuss above, the MMPA and Magnuson-Stevens Act provide better-than-average protection to their respective taxa, and can serve as models for improving other protective statues or for drafting new ones. Wherever changes in laws and policies are undertaken to address the gaps we identify above, policy makers must require development of standards and management practices to ensure efficient and effective conservation, and provide suitable timeframes for their implementation. Without such requirements, agencies cannot be held accountable for meeting legislative goals.

3. Gaps in Management Focus and Needs

Management agencies have the option, through the policies that interpret their respective organic acts, to make explicit provision for migratory species, but no mandate exists to force such consideration. Trust species of FWS or management indicator species for individual national forests receive research attention at least, and legal protection for a few, as do species protected by state and federal ESAs. Otherwise, migration as a phenomenon and migrants as a potentially vulnerable class of species receive no specific attention, as we discuss in more detail in the previous Part on laws and policies.

Even if managers were inclined to extend additional protections to migrants, such as through targeted land management actions, information is often lacking to provide important details for such plans. Managers can assist in conservation of migrants by identifying important information gaps they encounter, and by undertaking monitoring or collaborating in monitoring and by communicating the need for monitoring to address information gaps to their agencies and to the public. Monitoring often lacks excitement and does not attract the kind of public support needed to develop long-term databases needed to detect trends in timing, behavior, and population size of migrants.

C. Improving Conservation of Migrants and Migrations

If we take as our goal the protection of migrations as phenomena of abundance, with their attendant social values and ecological roles intact to the greatest extent possible, then policy and management must seek to protect these species at levels far above minimum viable population sizes, and thus above the levels available to all species through the Endangered Species Act. However, policy targets for abundance are virtually nonexistent in the United States, except in the case of game species or as aspirational targets, rather than targets supported by enforceable standards with accompanying best management practices.

The concept of “keeping common species common” is a useful one as we contemplate conserving migratory species at ecologically meaningful levels and migrations as phenomena of abundance. The phrase was the early motto of the GAP analysis program[401] and more recently is widely used as an explanation of the role of the state wildlife action programs, which seek, as a primary goal, to reduce the need to use the Endangered Species Act, with its attendant impacts on commerce.[402] Apparently, the notion that abundance may need protection is spreading, despite the fact that it would seem to indicate relative invulnerability. However even this apparent sign of progress has weaknesses in the creeping baseline that accompanies our understanding of commonness and abundance. John Terborgh, a noted conservation biologist, writing in Where Have All the Birds Gone, begins by discussing the abundance he experienced as a child of suburbia surrounded by frogs and songbirds and describes how that abundance slowly slipped away, arousing almost no comment in its passing, so that the present generation would be astonished at what was commonplace in his youth.[403]

State-level programs such as the State Wildlife Grant program and the Coastal Zone Management Act[404] provide existing models that may serve as useful starting points for improved conservation of migratory species. Unfortunately, as we earlier discussed, state-level programs are not ideally suited to protect long-distance migrants that cross state and international borders. Nevertheless, the state programs provide a good starting point. State management entails both land management and species management, and federal land management generally includes consultation with state agencies where it affects resident wildlife. A federal coordination program designed to link state, federal, and, where appropriate, international efforts could help to bridge the gaps in existing programs without too cumbersome a bureaucracy. Managers currently have difficulty securing migratory species because they manage lands, not migrations, or they manage species but at too small a scale to manage migrations. A federal overlay would provide the national scale, and, as treaties are handled at the national level, also the international scale needed for conservation of long-distance migrants. As FWS and NOAA currently comanage threatened and endangered species, they make good candidates for a similar parallel effort to provide oversight for migratory species. A program adjunct or parallel to the state wildlife grants would provide incentives for states to extend their efforts on behalf of migrants, similar to existing, relevant incentives for multi-state efforts.[405]

One limitation to working from a basis of the present state wildlife action plans or coastal-zone management plans is that statutory criteria for federal approval of the state plans lack the detail that would be required to mandate consistent standards or practices. For example, although state wildlife action plans are required to identify actions to be taken to conserve species and habitats identified as having the greatest conservation need, states need not actually set forth standards or practices in their actions plans. Strategic rather than operational language is typical in action plans, and as a result the federal government has limited ability to ensure consistent standards and practices across states using the mechanism of the state wildlife action plans. FWS could develop incentives for developing and implementing practices applicable to migration conservation—for example, to work towards consistent standards across states in the design and operation of wind turbines to reduce their impact on migratory bats[406]—as part of the State Wildlife Grants that fund the action plans. Such incentives might be effective where adopted, but the use of an incentive, alone, does not guarantee adoption by all states. Regulations that establish management bottom lines are often critical to the success of cooperative conservation efforts between federal and state entities.[407]

The benefit of an assisted, state-based approach is that it is likely to help many migratory species, so long as funding and assistance is prioritized at a landscape scale. Moreover, this approach may be the type of conservation law most likely to be enacted in the current political climate. One drawback, however, is that it may be used as a default approach even when other legal approaches may be more effective as well as politically possible. Conservation of migrations or parts of migrations contained within United States borders and that cross multiple states and jurisdictions may require a greater degree of federal motivation and guidance than is typically provided in existing assisted state programs.

Thus, a state-based program, as a new program or as an addition to an existing program, with federal assistance and oversight, enforceable standards, and strong collaboration provides a good starting point for conservation of migratory species within the United States. Collaboration, not only among management entities but also among researchers, managers, policy makers, and the public will be needed both to develop the program and to ensure its long-term success. Such a program would, for example, begin to protect migratory bats, by developing monitoring programs to provide baseline information, encouraging research to disentangle effects of mortality from multiple sources, encouraging and, when possible, enforcing, best management practices. Such practices would reduce harm, as through modification of turbines and towers, and increase benefits, as through the protection, on public and private land, of breeding sites, food sites along migration corridors, and hibernacula.[408]

To reduce duplication of effort and support learning among practitioners, an information clearinghouse would be helpful, to link managers, legal scholars and practitioners, researchers, and citizen scientists interested in migrants. A number of potentially useful models for sharing data and case studies are emerging in the field of climate change ecology.[409] Standard data publication through peer-reviewed literature is widely acknowledged to be too limiting for the less formal, less groundbreaking information exchange needed for such management problems.[410]

The recent Western Governor’s Association efforts to safeguard migratory game animals[411] and the plethora of informal programs supporting high-interest migrants together indicate the severity of the existing gaps in formal conservation of migratory species. Had existing expertise and capacity sufficed to solve the problem, informal efforts would not be needed—their existence indicates the level of support that can be brought to bear on behalf of migratory species. Stories about long-distance migrations pique the public’s interest and admiration, even when the subjects are migratory dragonflies. The emotional response to migrations as a phenomenon of abundance is demonstrated by the number of local festivals and other events organized around local migration phenomena. School children track individual migrants in real time, and interact with peers in other countries to help protect migratory species.[412] New efforts to coordinate and improve conservation of migrants and migrations should consider programs that improve social connectivity among people and communities along migration routes of all scales to build on this public support. Such support, in time, might also increase participation in private-lands programs, strengthening the network of lands that support migratory species.

VI. Conclusion

Migratory species are often highly visible and popular, but they also face high risks, and many have already experienced substantial declines. If conservation efforts are to halt declines and recover migratory species and their migrations to numbers that are socially, ecologically, and economically meaningful, scientists, policy makers, and natural resource managers must work together to address current gaps in needed scientific information, legal protections, and management capacity. Information needs are readily identifiable, and present technologies are increasingly adequate to address them, if funding can be made available to support the needed research and monitoring. Many gaps in legal protection from major sources of risk can be remedied by modifications to existing policy guidelines, without need to revisit the relevant statutes. Increased outreach and collaboration by natural resource managers provides opportunities both to address information gaps and to expand the spatial network of protected areas onto private lands. Finally, we suggest that state-level efforts provide a good starting point for a coordinated effort to improve conservation of the full range of migratory species within the United States, acknowledging that international efforts will be needed for the many species that cross international boundaries. Problems will arise due to lacks of funds, difficulties in securing a landscape that will support abundant migrations, lack of adequate standards and best management practices, and an insufficient culture of collaboration among the three main relevant disciplines. However, we view these problems as entirely soluble. Further, we see evidence in society at large of support for conservation of migratory species sufficient to encourage the changes we recommend.

 



* Associate Professor, School of Public and Environmental Affairs (SPEA), and affiliated Associate Professor of Law, Indiana University Maurer School of Law, Indiana University, Bloomington, Indiana. Dr. Meretsky thanks Elizabeth Baldwin for her comments and assistance and Robert L. Fischman for his encouragement and comments.

** Ph.D. Candidate in Evolution, Ecology, and Behavior; Department of Biology and Center for the Integrative Study of Animal Behavior (CISAB), Indiana University, Bloomington, Indiana.

*** Staff Attorney, Conservation Law Center, and Adjunct Professor of Law, Indiana University Maurer School of Law, Bloomington, Indiana.

[1] See Alan Taylor, The Great Change Begins: Settling the Forest of Central New York, 75 N.Y. Hist. 265, 271–74 (1995), available at http://external.oneonta.edu/cooper/articles/
nyhistory/1995nyhistory-taylor.html (summarizing accounts of migrating passenger pigeons with references).

[2] See A. R. E. Sinclair, Serengeti Past and Present, in Serengeti II: Dynamics, Management, and Conservation of an Ecosystem 3–7, 10–11, 14–15 (A. R. E. Sinclair & Peter Arcese eds., 1995) (introducing the Serengeti ecosystem of Africa and the decline of large-mammal migration in the first chapter); David S. Wilcove, No Way Home: The Decline of the World’s Great Animal Migrations 107–13 (2008) (summarizing accounts of bison in North America).

[3] J. B. C. Jackson, Reefs Since Columbus, 16 Coral Reefs at S23, S27 (1997) (quoting from the diary of a seaman sailing with Columbus in 1494).

[4] U.S. Envtl. Prot. Agency, Learn More About Threatened and Endangered Species, http://www.epa.gov/espp/coloring/especies.htm (last visited Apr. 10, 2011).

[5] John Charles Kunich, The Uncertainty of Life and Death: The Precautionary Principle, Gödel, and the Hotspots Wager, 17 Mich. St. U. C. Law J. Int’l L. 1, 4 (2008) (explaining that public outcry led to the passage of environmental laws such as the Endangered Species Act).

[6] Lacey Act Amendments of 1981, 16 U.S.C. §§ 3371–3378 (2006).

[7] Migratory Bird Treaty Act of 1918, 16 U.S.C. §§ 703–712 (2006).

[8] See Larry Martin Corcoran & Elinor Colbourn, Shocked, Crushed, and Poisoned: Criminal Enforcement in Non-Hunting Cases Under the Migratory Bird Treaties, 77 Denv. U. L. Rev. 359, 372–73 (1999) (providing the history of these statutes); Robert S. Anderson, The Lacey Act: America’s Premier Weapon in the Fight Against Unlawful Wildlife Trafficking, 16 Pub. Land L. Rev. 27, 36–37 (1995) (same).

[9] In biology, a taxon (plural: taxa) is any level of biological classification from a single population of a single species up to the level of a kingdom (the plant kingdom, for example). Taxon, Britannica Academic Edition, http://www.britannica.com/EBchecked/topic/584691/
taxon
(last visited Apr. 10, 2011).

[10] See Journey North, A Global Study of Wildlife Migration: Monarch Butterfly, http://www.learner.org/jnorth/ (last visited Apr. 10, 2011).

[11] Duck festivals, goose festivals, waterfowl festivals, sandhill crane festivals, and at least one sandpiper festival are readily found in Google searches, as are monarch butterfly festivals, hummingbird migration festivals, hawk migrations festivals and migration festivals whose names are not linked to any particular species or group of species. See, e.g., Othello Sandhill Crane Festival, Othello Sandhill Crane Festival, http://www.othellosandhillcranefestival.org (last visited Apr. 10, 2011) (annual three-day festival offering many events including tours for crane viewing and specialty wildlife tours); Lodi Sandhill Crane Ass’n, Sandhill Crane Festival of Lodi California, http://www.cranefestival.com/index.html (last visited Apr. 10, 2011) (annual three-day celebration of the return of migrating cranes); Nokomis E. Neighborhood Ass’n, Minneapolis Monarch Festival, http://www.monarchfestival.org (last visited Apr. 10, 2011) (annual festival offering a variety of events highlighting the Minnesota-Mexico migration of monarch butterflies); Delta Chamber of Commerce, Delta Snow Goose Festival, http://deltagoosefestival.info/festival/snow-goose-festival (last visited Apr. 10, 2011) (festival sponsored by the Delta Area Chamber of Commerce promoting “one of the most incredible wildlife experiences available”); City of Lamar, High Plains Snow Goose Festival, http://www.highplainssnowgoose.com/index.html (last visited Apr. 10, 2011) (annual Colorado festival offering tours and now goose viewing, among other events); Nat’l Audubon Soc’y, Inc., Hummingbird Migration Celebration, http://strawberryplains.audubon.org/events/2055 (last visited Apr. 10, 2011) (annual Mississippi festival sponsored by the National Audubon Society that offers tours and educational activities).

[12] See generally Wilcove, supra note 2 (providing a thorough review of the decline in the number of migratory species on a global scale).

[13] See Ben Hoare, Animal Migration: Remarkable Journeys in the Wild 7, 22, 28, 58, 159 (2009); Giraffe Conservation Foundation, Protecting Giraffes, http://www.giraffeconservation.org/
prj_info.php?cid=111&prjid=4&pgid=31 (last visited Apr. 10, 2011).

[14] Hoare, supra note 13, at 10.

[15] Hugh Dingle, Migration: The Biology of Life on the Move 344, 348–51 (1996).

[16] Id. at 20 (citing Thomson’s work entitled Problems of Bird Migration).

[17] Id. at 20–21.

[18] See Dale F. Lott, American Bison: A Natural History 87 (2002) (describing the manner in which bison “wander” in search of areas with optimal grass growth).

[19] U.S. Dep’t of Agric., Monarch Butterfly: North America’s Migrating Insect 6 (2008), available at http://www.fs.fed.us/wildflowers/pollinators/documents/Monarch_Butterfly.pdf; see also Peter P. Marra, David Hunter & Anne M. Perrault, Migratory Connectivity and the Conservation of Migratory Animals, 41 Envtl. L. 317, 321–22 (2011) (describing the monarch butterfly’s migration cycle as repeated through multiple generations).

[20] Hoare, supra note 13, at 22–23.

[21] Dingle, supra note 15, at 22.

[22] See id. at 10 tbl.1-1.

[23] Id. at 54.

[24] Lott, supra note 18, at 87.

[25] M.C. Witmer, D. J. Mountjoy & L. Elliot, Cedar Waxwing, 8 Birds of N. Am., no. 309, 1997, at 1, 1, 5, available at http://bna.birds.cornell.edu/bna/species/309.

[26] John S. Kennedy, Migration, Behavioral and Ecological, in 27 Contributions in Marine Science: Migration: Mechanisms and Adaptive Significance 5, 7–8 (Mary Ann Rankin ed., Supp. 1985); see also Dingle, supra note 15, at 9–19 (referencing Kennedy’s work in discussion of different types of movements).

[27] Robert L. Fischman & Jeffrey B. Hyman, The Legal Challenge of Protecting Animal Migrations as Phenomena of Abundance, 28 Va. Envtl. L.J. 173, 178, 182 (2010).

[28] Gene S. Helfman et al., The Diversity of Fishes: Biology, Evolution, and Ecology 515 (2d ed. 2009).

[29] Id. at 519.

[30] See id.

[31] Dingle, supra note 15, at 256.

[32] Id. at 257.

[33] Int’l Union for Conservation of Nature and Natural Res., Tadorna tadorna, http://www.iucnredlist.org/apps/redlist/details/141471/0 (last visited Apr. 10, 2011).

[34] Int’l Union for Conservation of Nature and Natural Res., Myotis sodalis, http://www.iucnredlist.org/apps/redlist/details/14136/0 (last visited Apr. 10, 2011).

[35] Dingle, supra note 15, at 257.

[36] Dingle, supra note 15, at 273. See generally P.M. Symmons & K. Cressman, Food & Agric. Org., 1 Desert Locust Guidelines (2d ed. 2001), available at http://www.fao.org/ag/locusts/
common/ecg/347_en_DLG1e.pdf (describing the biology and life cycle of desert locusts).

[37] Cagan H. Sekercioglu, Conservation Ecology: Area Trumps Mobility in Fragment Bird Extinctions, 17 Current Biology R283, R284 fig.2 (2007).

[38] Frederick C. Lincoln, Steven R. Peterson & John L. Zimmerman, Migration of Birds (Peter A. Anatasi, ed. 1998), available at http://www.npwrc.usgs.gov/resource/birds/migratio/ (click on “Geographic Patterns of Migration”).

[39] Id.

[40] Brian A. Harrington, Red Knot, 15 Birds of N. Am., no. 563, 2001, at 1, 1, 4, available at http://bna.birds.cornell.edu/bna/species/563.

[41] Lincoln, Peterson & Zimmerman, supra note 38.

[42] U.N. Convention on the Law of the Sea, art. 64, Annex I, Dec. 10, 1982, 1388 U.N.T.S. 31363.

[43] Pac. Fishery Mgmt. Council, Highly Migratory Species: Background, http://www.pcouncil.org/highly-migratory-species/background/ (last visited Apr. 10,  2011).

[44] Id.; U.N. Convention on the Law of the Sea, supra note 42.

[45] Hoare, supra note 13, at 142–43; Dingle, supra note 15, at 40.

[46] Hoare, supra note 13, at 7.

[47] Anthony R. Fiorillo & Roland A. Gangloff, The Caribou Migration Model for Arctic Hadrosaurs (Dinosauria: Ornithischia): A Reassessment, 15 Hist. Biology 323, 329 (2002).

[48] Thomas Alerstam et al., Long-Distance Migration: Evolution and Determinants, 103 Oikos 247, 249 (2003).

[49] Frank B. Gill, Ornithology 306 (2d ed. 1995).

[50] Jutta Schneider & Jürg Lamprecht, The Importance of Biparental Care in a Precocial, Monogamous Bird, the Bar-Headed Goose (Anser indicus), 27 Behavioral Ecology and Sociobiology 415, 416 (1990); Graham R. Scott et al., Molecular Evolution of Cytochrome c Oxidase Underlies High-Altitude Adaptation in the Bar-Headed Goose, 28 Molecular Biology & Evolution 351, 351 (2011).

[51] R. A. A. Noble et al., Assessing the Health of European Rivers Using Functional Ecological Guilds of Fish Communities: Standardizing Species Classification and Approaches to Metric Selection, 14 Fisheries Mgmt. & Ecology 381, 386 (2007) (defining potadromy); Helfman et al., supra note 28, at 521 (defining oceanodromy); id. at 515 (defining diadromy).

[52] Helfman et al., supra note 28, at 519.

[53] Id. at 521.

[54] See Thomas B. Thorson, Movement of Bull Sharks, Carcharhinus leucas, Between Caribbean Sea and Lake Nicaragua Demonstrated by Tagging, 1971 Copeia 336, 336 (1971) (describing movement of bull shark during its lifecycle).

[55] U.S. Geological Survey, Migration of Birds, http://www.npwrc.usgs.gov/resource/birds/
migratio/routes.htm (last visited Feb. 15, 2011).

[56] Id.

[57] See id. (describing certain types of migration routes).

[58] Marra, Hunter & Perrault, supra note 19, at 317–25.

[59] Jonathan W. Atwell, Dawn M. O’Neal & Ellen D. Ketterson, Animal Migration as a Moving Target for Conservation: Intra-Species Variation and Responses to Environmental Change, as Illustrated in a Sometimes Migratory Songbird, 41 Envtl. L. 289, 302–06 (2011).

[60] E.g., Kerry N. Rabenold & Patricia Parker Rabenold, Variation in Altitudinal Migration, Winter Segregation, and Site Tenacity in Two Subspecies of Dark-Eyed Juncos in the Southern Appalachians, 102 Auk 805, 805 (1985).

[61] For a further examination of within-species variation and its potential implications for conservation, see Atwell, O’Neal & Ketterson, supra note 59, at 297–306.

[62] Alex E. Jahn et al., Reflections Across Hemispheres: A System-Wide Approach to New World Bird Migration, 121 Auk 1005, 1010 (2004).

[63] Jeremy J. Hatch, Arctic Tern (Sterna paradisaea), in Birds of N. Am. Online (A. Poole ed.), http://bna.birds.cornell.edu/bna/species/707/articles/introduction (last visited Apr. 10, 2011).

[64] Dingle, supra note 15, at 304.

[65] Id.

[66] Id.

[67] Id. at 307.

[68] Id. at 304.

[69] See id. at 311.

[70] Id. at 304.

[71] Id. at 311.

[72] Fischman & Hyman, supra note 27, at 177.

[73] Susanne Åkesson & Henri Weimerkirsch, Long Solo Migrations Across the Southern Ocean by Juvenile Wandering Albatrosses, 8 Tracker News, Spring 2007, at 3, available at http://www.microwavetelemetry.com/uploads/newsletters/spring_2007Page3.pdf.

[74] Peter Miller, The Genius of Swarms, Nat’l Geographic, June 2007, at 9, available at http://ngm.nationalgeographic.com/2007/07/swarms/miller-text/9.

[75] Lincoln, Peterson & Zimmerman, supra note 38.

[76] Christopher N. Templeton & Erick Greene, Nuthatches Eavesdrop on Variations in Heterospecific Chickadee Mobbing Alarm Calls, 104 Proc. Nat’l Acad. Sci. 5479, 5479, 5481 (2007).

[77] Lincoln, Peterson & Zimmerman, supra note 38.

[78] Id.

[79] See generally Photoperiodism: The Biological Calendar (Randy J. Nelson et al. eds., 2010) (discussing the importance of photoperiodism as a cue throughout this work of collected scientific papers).

[80] Dingle, supra note 15, at 138.

[81] Id. at 139–40.

[82] E.g., George E. Bentley, Photoperiodism and Reproduction in Birds, in Photoperiodism: The Biological Calendar, supra note 79, at 420, 420–36.

[83] Marcel E. Visser et al., Global Climate Change Leads to Mistimed Avian Reproduction, in 35 Advances in Ecological Research: Birds and Climate Change 89, 94, 98 (Anders P. Møller et al. eds., 2004); see also Marra, Hunter & Perrault, supra note 19, at 323–24.

[84] Gary P. Fitt, The Ecology of Heliothis Species in Relation to Agroecosystems, 34 Ann. Rev. Entomology 17, 21–22 (1989).

[85] Ian Newton, Advances in the Study of Irruptive Migration, 94 Ardea 433, 434 (2006).

[86] Sievert Rohwer et al., Migratory Double Breeding in Neotropical Migrant Birds, 106 Proc. Nat’l Acad. Sci. 19,050, 19,050 (2009).

[87] Miyoko Chu & Glenn Walsberg, Phainopepla (Phainopepla nitens), in The Birds of N. Am. Online, supra note 63, http://bna.birds.cornell.edu/bna/species/415/articles/introduction (last visited Apr. 10, 2011).

[88] Rohwer, supra note 86, at 19,050.

[89] U.S. Dep’t of Agric., supra note 19, at 6.

[90] Helfman et al., supra note 28, at 398.

[91] Univ. of Cal. Museum of Paleontology, Chiroptera: Life History and Ecology, http://www.ucmp.berkeley.edu/mammal/eutheria/chirolh.html (last visited Apr. 10, 2011); N.J. Audubon Soc’y, What is Migration?, http://www.njaudubon.org/SectionOases/
Whatismigration.aspx (last visited Apr. 10, 2011).

[92] Columbus Audubon, Day and Night, http://www.columbusaudubon.org/production/index.
php?option=com_content&view=article&id=248:day-and-night&catid=31:columbusbirding&Item
id=90 (last visited Apr. 10, 2011).

[93] Sandy Bauers, Geolocators Show Red Knots’ Flights Extraordinary, Philly.com, Oct. 11, 2010, available at http://articles.philly.com/2010-10-11/news/24981030_1_red-knot-bird-larry-niles; see also Lawrence J. Niles et al., First Results Using Light Level Geolocators to Track Red Knots in the Western Hemisphere Show Rapid and Long Intercontinental Flights and New Details of Migration Pathways, 117 Wader Study Group Bull. 123 (2010) (describing original research findings).

[94] Gill, supra note 49, at 293.

[95] Atwell, O’Neal & Ketterson, supra note 59, at 307 (providing examples in which migration was lost in an urban-dwelling populations); see also Jesko Partecke & Eberhard Gwinner, Increased Sedentariness in European Blackbirds Following Urbanization: A Consequence of Local Adaptation?, 88 Ecology 882, 883, 889 (2007) (describing European Blackbirds adaptation to new, urban environment with a reduction in migration).

[96] See Visser et al., supra note 83, at 106–07 (discussing how global climate change can cause a maladaptive shift in the seasonal timing of breeding in a songbird species).

[97] Dingle, supra note 15, at 217, 354–55.

[98] Id. at 354–56.

[99] Id. at 354–57.

[100] Id. at 353–55.

[101] Gill, supra note 49, ch. 10.

[102] See Dingle, supra note 15, at 364.

[103] Marilyn Ramenofsky, Reneé Agatsuma & Trisha Ramfar, Environmental Conditions Affect the Behavior of Captive, Migratory White-Crowned Sparrows, 110 Condor 658, 659, 665–66 (2008).

[104] Gill, supra note 49, at 287–88.

[105] Robert F. Raleigh, Innate Control of Migrations of Salmon and Trout Fry from Natal Gravels to Rearing Areas, 52 Ecology 291, 293, 295–96 (1971).

[106] Dingle, supra note 15, at 226.

[107] Id. at 226–27.

[108] See Operation Migration, Our Work: Whooping Crane Story, http://www.operationmigration.org/work_wcranes.html (last visited Apr. 10, 2011).

[109] See Gill, supra note 49, ch. 10.

[110] Hoare, supra note 13, at 26–29.

[111] Id. at 22.

[112] Marra, Hunter & Perrault, supra note 19, at 319 (discussing the importance of research to establish “migratory connectivity”).

[113] Id.

[114] W. Douglas Robinson et al., Integrating Concepts and Technologies to Advance the Study of Bird Migration, 2009 Frontiers in Ecology & the Env’t tbl.1 (2010).

[115] Thomas T. Moore, Climate Change and Animal Migration, 41 Envtl. L. 393, 396 (2011).

[116] John Esterbrook, Global Warming Kicks Off a Migration, CBS News, Jan. 2, 2003, http://www.cbsnews.com/stories/2003/01/02/tech/main534993.shtml (last visited April 10, 2011).

[117] Fischman & Hyman, supra note 27, at 196–97, 230–31.

[118] Endangered Species Act of 1973, 16 U.S.C. §§ 1531–1544 (2006).

[119] Although the ESA also is concerned with conserving the ecosystems upon which listed species depend, the species focus dominates implementation of the ESA. See id. § 1531(b); Fischman & Hyman, supra note 27, at 190, 200, 203.

[120] Neotropical Migratory Bird Conservation Act, 16 U.S.C. §§ 6101–6109 (2006).

[121] Marine Mammal Protection Act of 1972, 16 U.S.C. §§ 1361–1423 (2006).

[122] Migratory Bird Conservation Act, 16 U.S.C. §§ 715 (2006).

[123] Migratory Bird Treaty Act, 16 U.S.C. §§ 703–712 (2006).

[124] See Karin P. Sheldon, Wildlife, in Sustainable Environmental Law: Integrating Natural Resource and Pollution Abatement Law from Resources to Recovery 279, 313 (Celia Campbell-Mohn et al. eds., 1993); J.B. Ruhl, Biodiversity Conservation and the Ever-Expanding Web of Federal Laws Regulating Nonfederal Lands: Time for Something Completely Different?, 66 U. Colo. L. Rev. 558, 565 (1995) (discussing three models of laws for federal regulation of nonfederal land use decisions: coercion, coordination, and cooperation).

[125] Identifying gaps in existing U.S. laws, as presented later in this Article, can indicate deficiencies in international agreements with regard to migratory species that spend only a part of the migratory cycle in the United States. For example, if such a species is unprotected or underprotected by federal law, that may indicate a need for an additional international agreement to cover the species, a need for the United States to sign on to or properly implement an existing international agreement covering the species, or a deficiency in an existing agreement that is fully implemented by U.S. law but that leads to inadequate protection for the species. The next steps after identifying needs for U.S. law would be to identify precisely the reflected deficiencies in international agreements as well as the implementation deficiencies in other countries, but we consider these steps as beyond the scope of our purposes here.

[126] Laws that require assessment of environmental impacts fit within the first approach as coordination and information generation and exchange tools. Examples include the National Environmental Policy Act of 1969, 42 U.S.C. §§ 4321–4347 (2006), and the consultation and biological assessment provisions of section 7 of the Endangered Species Act of 1973. 16 U.S.C. § 1536 (2006).

[127] See John D. Echeverria, Regulating Versus Paying Land Owners to Protect the Environment, 26 J. Land Resources & Envtl. L. 1, 11, 20 (2005).

[128] Paul M. Cryan, Wind Turbines as Landscape Impediments to the Migratory Connectivity of Bats, 41 Envtl. L. 355, 368 (2011).

[129] International agreements that call for funding of conservation projects and promote coordination and information exchange include the Inter-American Convention for the Protection and Conservation of Sea Turtles, Dec. 13, 1996, 2164 U.N.T.S. 29, and the Convention on Nature Protection and Wildlife Preservation in the Western Hemisphere, Apr. 7, 1941, 56 Stat. 1354, 161 U.N.T.S. 193.

[130] 16 U.S.C. §§ 6101–6109 (2006).

[131] Id. §§ 6102(2)–(3), 6103(3), 6104(a); Div. of Bird Habitat Conservation, U.S. Fish & Wildlife Serv., Neotropical Migratory Bird Conservation Act, http://www.fws.gov/birdhabitat/
grants/nmbca/ACT.shtm (last visited Feb. 4, 2011) (showing that the Department of the Interior delegated authority to the FWS to manage the grants program).

[132] 16 U.S.C. §§ 6104, 6108 (2006).

[133] Id. § 6104(c); see also Div. of Bird Habitat Conservation, U.S. Fish & Wildlife Serv., 2011 Proposal Application Instructions, http://www.fws.gov/birdhabitat/grants/nmbca/Instructions
ENG.shtm
(last visited Apr. 10, 2011) (listing criteria used in selecting projects).

[134] 16 U.S.C. § 6105(3) (2006).

[135] Id. § 6104(e).

[136] Id. §§ 6102, 6106.

[137] 33 U.S.C. §§ 2901–2909 (2006 & Supp. I 2007).

[138] Id. § 2903(a).

[139] Id. § 2904(b). The Council is constituted of representatives from the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration of the U.S. Department of Commerce, the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service of the Department of the Interior, the Army, the U.S. Department of Agriculture, and the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency. Id. §§ 2902(9), 2904(c).

[140] Id. §§ 2902(8), 2903(b).

[141] See id. § 2903(c)(1)–(2).

[142] Id. § 2903(c)(1).

[143] Id. § 2905; see also Final Estuary Habitat Restoration Strategy Prepared by the Estuary Habitat Restoration Council, 67 Fed. Reg. 71,942, 71,942–43 (Dec. 3, 2002).

[144] 33 U.S.C. § 2903(d)(1) (2006 & Supp. I 2007). However, for the additional incremental cost of demonstrating or testing an “innovative technology,” the government’s share is eighty-five percent. Id. § 2903(d)(2).

[145] 16 U.S.C. §§ 3771–3774 (2006).

[146] Id. § 3771(b).

[147] Id. § 3773.

[148] In some situations, the project funding and assistance approach can be usefully implemented without any requirement of an associated conservation plan, such as where the United States funds projects in other countries or where federal agencies develop an overarching plan into which state or local projects must fit.

[149] See Cryan, supra note 128, at 365; Interim Voluntary Guidelines to Avoid and Minimize Wildlife Impacts from Wind Turbines, 68 Fed. Reg. 41,174, 41,174–75 (July 10, 2003).

[150] 16 U.S.C. §§ 1451–1466 (2006); 15 C.F.R. §§ 923.1, 930.1 (2010).

[151] 16 U.S.C. § 1455(a)–(c) (2006).

[152] Id. § 1456(c)(1)(A).

[153] Id. § 1453(16) (defining the “Secretary” referenced in section 1454 as the “Secretary of Commerce”); id. § 1454 (noting that the state program and plan are submitted to the Secretary).

[154] Id. § 1455(d)(2)(B)–(E), (13)(A)–(B).

[155] Id. § 1456(c)(2) (federal agencies); id. § 1456(c)(3)(A) (applicant for federal license or permit); id. § 1456(c)(3)(B) (any person submitting plan for exploration or development).

[156] 16 U.S.C. §§ 2901–2911 (2006); see also U.S. Fish & Wildlife Serv., Digest of Federal Resource Laws of Interest to the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, http://www.fws.gov/laws/
lawsdigest/fwcon.html (last visited Apr. 13, 2011) (noting that the FWCA provided for comprehensive state wildlife plans). The regulations implementing the FWCA were recently removed from the Code of Federal Regulations because no funds have been or are projected to be made available under the FWCA. Removing Regulations Implementing the Fish and Wildlife Conservation Act, 75 Fed. Reg. 51,420, 51,420 (Aug. 20, 2010).

[157] See 16 U.S.C. § 669c(d)(1) (2006). The Fish and Wildlife Programs Improvement and National Wildlife Refuge System Centennial Act amended the 1937 Pittman-Robertson Wildlife Restoration Act and the 1950 Dingell-Johnson Sport Fish Restoration Act. Fish and Wildlife Programs Improvement and National Wildlife Refuge System Centennial Act of 2000 pmbl., Pub. L. No. 106-408, 114 Stat. 1762, 1762 (2000).

[158] U.S. Fish & Wildlife Serv., State Wildlife Grant Competitive Program: FY 2008 and FY 2009, at 1 (2009), available at http://wsfrprograms.fws.gov/subpages/grantprograms/swg/SWG-NOFA20082009.pdf; see also U.S. Fish & Wildlife Serv., State Wildlife Grant Program – Overview, http://wsfrprograms.fws.gov/subpages/grantprograms/swg/swg.htm (last visited Apr. 13, 2011).

[159] 16 U.S.C. § 669c(d)(1)(D)(iii) (2006) (identifying the problems that may impact the species and habitats); see id. § 669c(d)(1)(D)(iv) (determining actions necessary to preserve those species and habitats, and setting priorities for action); id. § 2903(3)–(6); see also 66 Fed. Reg. 7,657, 7,657–58 (Jan. 24, 2001) (listing the requirements discussed); Ass’n of Fish & Wildlife Agencies, State Wildlife Action Plans, http://www.wildlifeactionplans.org (last visited Apr. 13, 2011).

[160] See U.S. Forest Serv., Dep’t of Agric., Environmental Assessment: Bridger-Teton National Forest Land and Resource Management Plan Amendment: Pronghorn Migration Corridor i (2008) (proposing to designate a Pronghorn Migration Corridor on lands within the Pinedale and Jackson Ranger Districts of the Bridger-Teton National Forests so as to facilitate continued successful migration in that region); U.S. Forest Serv., Decision Notice & Finding of No Significant Impact: Pronghorn Migration Corridor Forest Plan Amendment 1 (2008); see also Wildlife Corridors Conservation Act of 2010, H.R. 5101, 111th Cong. (2d Sess. 2010) (proposing an animal movement corridor).

[161] See, e.g., Joel Berger, The Last Mile: How to Sustain Long-Distance Migration in Mammals, 18 Conservation Biology 320, 326 (2004) (calling for a formally designated national wildlife migration corridor); Kittatinny-Shawangunk Nat’l Raptor Migration Corridor Project, Home, http://www.raptorcorridor.org (last visited Apr. 10, 2011) (calling for a federally designated Kittatinny-Shawangunk National Raptor Migration Corridor). See generally David N. Cherney, Securing the Free Movement of Wildlife: Lessons from the American West’s Longest Land Mammal Migration, 41 Envtl. L. 599, 615 (2011) (noting the combination of public and private land designation in protecting a migration corridor for pronghorn, and the important political attention that has resulted from this process).

[162] For example, a few hundred pronghorn antelope annually migrate from the Green River Basin in Wyoming to Grand Teton National Park along a corridor that physically narrows to less than a few hundred meters wide. See Berger, supra note 161, at 324. American Red Knots spread across a large area of the Canadian Arctic during the breeding season, but for the rest of the year they occur mainly in large flocks at a limited number of key coastal sites. Div. of Fish & Wildlife, Endangered & Nongame Species Program, N.J. Dep’t of Envtl. Prot., Status of the Red Knot (Calidris canatus rufa) in the Western Hemisphere ii–iii (2007), available at http://www.state.nj.us/dep/fgw/ensp/pdf/redknot_status07_body.pdf. While migrating, Red Knot populations depend on a limited number of stopover sites, the Delaware Bay area being the largest known spring migration stopover area. See Coastal Mgmt. Program, N.J. Dep’t of Envtl. Prot., Potential Effects of Wind Turbines on Birds, Bats, and Marine Organisms in New Jersey’s Coastal Zone 1, 5 (2010), available at http://www.state.nj.us/
dep/cmp/sections-3-potential-effects.pdf. Migratory Sandhill Cranes aggregate along a 75-mile stretch of the Platte River in Nebraska during staging for the spring migration northward. Int’l Crane Found., Sandhill Crane, http://www.savingcranes.org/sandhill-crane.html (last visited Apr. 10, 2011).

[163] Acquisition includes fee ownership as well as partial interests in land such as conservation easements. Migratory Bird Conservation Act of 1929, 16 U.S.C. § 715d (2006); U.S. Fish and Wildlife Serv., Dep’t of the Interior, Budget Justifications and Performance Information Fiscal Year 2010, at MBC-2 to -3 (2010), available at http://www.fws.gov/
budget/2010/2010%20Greenbook/FY%202010%20Green%20Book%20final.pdf.

[164] 16 U.S.C. § 715a (2006).

[165] Id. § 715c.

[166] Id. § 715k-5.

[167] Id. § 715i(b).

[168] North American Wetlands Conservation Act of 1989, 16 U.S.C. § 4401(b) (2006).

[169] The Ramsar Convention establishes criteria for designating rivers, marshes, coral reefs, and other areas as a “wetland of international importance.” Any government, group, community, private organization, or landowner can nominate a site for inclusion on the Ramsar List. Convention on Wetlands of International Importance Especially as Waterfowl Habitat art. 2, Feb. 2, 1971, 996 U.N.T.S. 245. Twenty-seven sites have been designated in the United States (including the Everglades). Ira Seligman, Ramsar and the Ugly Duckling of Ecosystems, U.S. Fish & Wildlife Serv. Endangered Species Bulls., Spring 2010, available at http://www.fws.gov/endangered/news/bulletin-spring2010/ramsar-and-the-ugly-duckling.html.

[170] See Convention on Nature Protection and Wildlife Preservation in the Western Hemisphere art. 2, Oct. 12, 1940, 161 U.N.T.S. 193 (stating that the parties agree to “explore at once the possibility of establishing in their territories national parks, national reserves, nature monuments, and strict wilderness reserves,” and where such establishment is feasible, “the creation thereof shall be begun as soon as possible after the effective date of the present Convention”).

[171] 16 U.S.C. § 4401(a) (2006).

[172] Id. §§ 4403–4404.

[173] Id. § 4405(a)(2).

[174] Id. § 4405(a)(3).

[175] Id. § 4405(b).

[176] Incidental take is take that occurs during the exercise of an otherwise legal activity (i.e., where the individual is not targeted for taking). 16 U.S.C. § 1539(a) (2006).

[177] Almost the entire migrating population of American Red Knots congregates at Delaware Bay during their spring migration from wintering grounds in South America to breeding grounds on the Arctic tundra. See, e.g., Lawrence J. Niles et al., Cooper Ornithological Soc’y, Studies in Avian Biology No. 36, Status of the Red Knot (Calidris canutus rufa) in the Western Hemisphere 19 (2008).

[178] Adult grouper live solitary lives, living and feeding in coral reefs, but during the winter months of November to March, just before the full moon, they migrate long distances, sometimes hundreds of miles, to specific locations where they group together in large numbers to breed. Leslie Whaylen et al., 57th Gulf and Caribbean Fisheries Institute Meeting Proceedings, Aggregation Dynamics and Lessons Learned from Five Years of Monitoring at a Nassau Grouper (Epinephelus striatus) Spawning Aggregation in Little Cayman, Cayman Islands, BWI 4–5 (2006).

[179] The eastern North American population of 100–500 million monarch butterflies overwinters in dense clusters on the boughs and trunks of trees at about 30 known high-elevation sites in a small area of central Mexico. Lincoln P. Brower et al., Quantitative Changes in Forest Quality in a Principal Overwintering Area of the Monarch Butterfly in Mexico, 1971–1999, 16 Conservation Biology 346, 347 (2002).

[180] Such aggregations may have been historically adaptive by confusing or deterring natural predators, but they do not deter human predators.

[181] Endangered Species Act of 1973, 16 U.S.C. § 1538 (2006). Section 7 of the ESA also contains a requirement for federal agencies, through consultation, to insure that actions are not likely to jeopardize an endangered or threatened species or result in the destruction or adverse modification of critical habitat. Id. § 1536(a)(2).

[182] Id. § 703(a). In 1939, responsibility for enforcing the statute was shifted to the U.S. Department of the Interior from the U.S. Department of Agriculture. See Reorganization Act Plan No. II, § 4(f), 53 Stat. 1431, 1433–34 (1939). The MBTA implements the four bilateral migratory bird treaties. The first treaty, the Canadian Convention, was concluded and ratified in 1916 and sought to protect birds migrating between the United States and Canada. See Convention Between the United States and Great Britain for the Protection of Migratory Birds, U.S.–Gr. Brit., Aug. 16, 1916, 39 Stat. 1702. Three further conventions followed with Mexico in 1936, Japan in 1972, and the former Soviet Union in 1976. See Convention Between the United States of America and Mexico for the Protection of Migratory Birds and Game Animals, U.S.–Mex., Feb. 7, 1936, 50 Stat. 1311; Convention Between the Government of the United States of America and the Government of Japan for the Protection of Migratory Birds and Birds in Danger of Extinction, and Their Environment, U.S.–Japan, Mar. 4, 1972, 25 U.S.T. 3329; Convention Between the United States of America and the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics Concerning the Conservation of Migratory Birds and Their Environment, U.S.–Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, Nov. 19, 1976, 29 U.S.T. 4647, 1134 U.N.T.S. 37; see also Corcoran & Colbourn, supra note 8, at 361 (providing an overview of the conventions). Multinational agreements also seek to prohibit take. These include the Inter-American Convention for the Protection and Conservation of Sea Turtles, art. IV, Jan. 12, 1996, 2164 U.N.T.S. 29, 32, which prohibits the “intentional capture, retention or killing of, and domestic trade in, sea turtles”; the Convention on Nature Protection and Wild Life Preservation in the Western Hemisphere, art. VIII, opened for signature Oct. 12, 1940, 161 U.N.T.S. 193–200, which states that species mentioned in the Annex to the Convention “shall be protected as completely as possible, and their hunting, killing, capturing, or taking, shall be allowed only with the permission of the appropriate government authorities in the country” and that “[s]uch permission shall be granted only under special circumstances, in order to further scientific purposes, or when essential for the administration of the area in which the animal or plant is found”; and the Convention on the Conservation of Migratory Species of Wild Animals (Bonn Convention), art. III, June 23, 1979, 1651 U.N.T.S. 333, 360–62, which states that parties agree that they “shall prohibit the taking of animals” belonging to endangered species, with exceptions to this prohibition allowed only if the taking is for scientific purposes or for the purpose of enhancing the propagation or survival of the affected species, is needed to accommodate the needs of traditional subsistence users, or is required by extraordinary circumstances.

[183] 16 U.S.C. § 1538 (2006); see also Babbitt v. Sweet Home Chapter of Communities for a Great Or., 515 U.S. 687, 690–91 (1995). By itself, Section 9 does not prohibit the take of “threatened” species. Section 4(d) of the ESA, however, allows agencies to apply section 9 prohibitions to “threatened” species. 16 U.S.C. § 1533(d) (2006); see also 50 C.F.R. § 17.31(a) (2010).

[184] 16 U.S.C. § 1539(a)(1)(B) (2006); 50 C.F.R. § 17.3 (2010).

[185] 50 C.F.R. §§ 17.22, 17.32 (2010).

[186] 16 U.S.C. § 1539(a)(2) (2006); 50 C.F.R. § 17.3 (2010). The HCP must specify 1) the impact which will likely result from such taking; 2) the steps that the applicant will take to minimize and mitigate such impacts, and the funding that will be available to implement such steps; 3) the alternative actions to such taking that the applicant considered and the reasons why such alternatives are not being utilized; and 4) other measures that the Secretary may require as being necessary or appropriate for purposes of the plan. 16 U.S.C. § 1539(a)(2)(A) (2006).

[187] 16 U.S.C. § 1539(a)(2)(B) (2006). Section 7 of the ESA provides for a federal agency to incidentally take a listed species. A federal agency may be granted an “incidental take statement” as part of a biological opinion describing the effect of the proposed activity on the species, the amount or extent of anticipated incidental take, and the “reasonable and prudent measures” to avoid or minimize the take of the species or the impact of the taking. See id. § 1536(b)(4), (o). Takes are illegal if the “reasonable and prudent measures” are not implemented. Id.

[189] 50 C.F.R. § 17.3 (2010); Sweet Home Chapter of Communities for a Great Or., 515 U.S. 687, 708 (1995) (upholding FWS definition).

[190] Endangered and Threatened Wildlife and Plants; Final Redefinition of “Harm,” 46 Fed. Reg. 54,748 (Nov. 4, 1981); Sweet Home Chapter of Communities for a Great Or., 515 U.S. at 708. One district court opined that in the Ninth Circuit the balance of the authority suggests that a population level effect is necessary for harm resulting from habitat modification to be considered a take. Coal. for a Sustainable Delta v. McCamman, 725 F. Supp. 2d 1162, 1169–70 (E.D. Cal. 2010).

[191] Coal. for a Sustainable Delta, 725 F. Supp. 2d at 1166–68, 1168 n.6.

[192] In the Ninth Circuit, plaintiffs must demonstrate “a reasonably certain threat of imminent harm to a protected species” to obtain an injunction under ESA section 9. Defenders of Wildlife v. Bernal, 204 F.3d 920, 925 (9th Cir. 2000); see also Marbled Murrelet v. Babbitt, 83 F.3d 1060, 1065–66 (9th Cir. 1996) (noting that harm through habitat modification can be projected into the future only so long as the habitat modification will cause actual killing or injury of members of a protected species).

[193] 16 U.S.C. § 703(a) (2006); see also 50 C.F.R. § 10.12 (2010) (“Take means to pursue, hunt, shoot, wound, kill, trap, capture, or collect, or attempt to pursue, hunt, shoot, wound, kill, trap, capture, or collect.”). This prohibition is limited to native species. 16 U.S.C. § 703(b) (2006).

[194] 16 U.S.C. § 704(a) (2006).

[195] 50 C.F.R. pts. 20, 92 (2009).

[196] Id. § 21.41 (providing for depredation permits); id. § 13.11(d) (listing permits and associated fees).

[197] Id. § 21.12 (providing general exceptions to permit requirements); id. §§ 21.42–21.51 (providing for depredation orders for migratory birds injuring property interests); see also Fund for Animals v. Kempthorne, 538 F.3d 124, 134 (2d Cir. 2008) (holding that a depredation order to take cormorants did not violate MBTA); 50 C.F.R. §§ 21.60–21.61 (2009) (providing for control of certain migratory bird populations deemed overabundant).

[198] See, e.g., United States v. Moon Lake Electric Ass’n, Inc., 45 F. Supp. 2d 1070, 1071 (D. Colo. 1999) (interpreting the term “take” to prohibit conduct beyond that of hunters and poachers and denying electric association’s motion to dismiss where the company was accused of failing to install inexpensive equipment on power poles, causing the death or injury of birds of prey).

[199] See Collette L. Adkins Giese, Spreading Its Wings: Using the Migratory Bird Treaty Act to Protect Habitat, 36 Wm. Mitchell L. Rev. 1157, 1166 (2010); Meredith Blaydes Lilley & Jeremy Firestone, Wind Power, Wildlife, and the Migratory Bird Treaty Act: A Way Forward, 38 Envtl. L. 1167, 1193–94 (2008) (citing City of Sausalito v. O’Neill, 386 F.3d 1186 (9th Cir. 2004); Seattle Audubon Society v. Evans, 952 F.2d 297 (9th Cir. 1991)); see also Earth Island Inst. v. Carlton, No. S-09-2020 FCD/EFB, slip op. at 56–58 (E.D. Cal. August 20, 2009) (denying plaintiff a preliminary injunction on timber harvest, holding there was no MBTA violation even though unfledged bird chicks could be killed due to removal of occupied nest trees), aff’d, 626 F.3d 462 (9th Cir. 2010). See generally Julie Lurman, Agencies in Limbo: Migratory Birds and Incidental Take by Federal Agencies, 23 J. Land Use & Envtl. L. 39 (2007) (stating the author’s opinion that federal court cases that have found no violation of MBTA during incidental takes were poorly reasoned); Corcoran & Colbourn, supra note 8 (noting cases which reasoned that timber activities do not constitute a taking within the meaning of MBTA and that “take” under the MBTA is defined differently than under the ESA); Shippen Howe, The Intersection of the Migratory Bird Treaty Act and Energy Companies: An Uncertain Crossroad, 41 Trends, May 2010, at 1.

[200] See Moon Lake Electric Ass’n, Inc., 45 F. Supp. 2d at 1076 (stating that under the ESA “the word ‘take’ is defined in a broader way to include ‘harass,’ and ‘harm,’ in addition to the verbs included in the MBTA definition . . . the differences in the proscribed conduct under ESA and the MBTA are ‘distinct and purposeful”).

[201] See Giese, supra note 199, at 1166–67 (citing Sierra Club v. Martin, 933 F. Supp. 1559, 1564–65 (N.D. Ga. 1996)). But see Earth Island Inst. v. Carlton, No. S-09-2020 FCD/EFB (E.D. Cal. August 20, 2009) (order denying preliminary injunction and suggesting that the MBTA does not apply); Mahler v. U.S. Forest Serv., 927 F. Supp. 1559, 1573–74 (E.D. Ind. 1996) (holding that the MBTA does not apply even to direct incidental deaths of migratory birds from habitat destruction during the nesting season).

[202] See generally Lilley & Firestone, supra note 199. The authority of FWS under the MBTA was given a boost with regard to federal agency actions by Executive Order No. 13,186, which notes that the migratory bird conventions “impose substantive obligations on the United States for the conservation of migratory birds and their habitats” and requires each federal agency taking an action likely to have a negative effect on migratory bird populations to develop and implement a memorandum of understanding (MOU) with the FWS (the lead agency) to promote the conservation of such populations. Exec. Order No. 13,186, 66 Fed. Reg. 3853, 3854 (Jan. 17, 2001).

[203] See, e.g., United States v. Apollo Energies, Inc., 611 F.3d 679, 684–85 (10th Cir. 2010) (upholding strict liability for oil drilling operators charged with violating the MBTA after dead migratory birds were discovered lodged in their oil drilling equipment, but concluding that “proximate causation” requirement was satisfied only for those convictions for which the operators had adequate notice that birds could become trapped in the equipment); United States v. Chevron USA, Inc., No. 09-CR-0132, 2009 WL 3645170, at *3–5 (W.D. La. October 30, 2009) (refusing to accept a plea agreement holding Chevron guilty under the MBTA for the death of brown pelicans in a caisson structure where there was no prohibition cited by the government for leaving a caisson uncovered, use of a caisson to protect the wellhead was legal and widely accepted, and Chevron did not have “fair warning” that the uncovered caisson exposed them to federal criminal prosecution). According to Lilley and Firestone, the FWS is much more likely to prosecute under the MBTA “when entities fail to implement measures to prevent reasonably foreseeable, significant, and easily preventable incidental take of migratory birds.” Lilley & Firestone, supra note 199, at 1197.

[204] Private citizens have a limited role in MBTA enforcement. Unlike the ESA, the MBTA does not authorize a private right of action to sue private entities for violating the MBTA, although parties may sue a federal agency for MBTA violations. See Turtle Island Restoration Network v. U.S. Dep’t of Commerce, 438 F.3d 937, 942 (9th Cir. 2006) (stating that MBTA does not authorize a private right of action, unlike ESA); Jaeger v. Cellco P’ship, No. 3:09CV567, 2010 WL 965730, at *10 (D. Conn. March 16, 2010) (stating that private plaintiffs may, via the Administrative Procedure Act, pursue claims against federal agencies for failure to adhere to the MBTA, but cannot bring an MBTA claim against a state entity or private company).

[205] See U.S. v. WCI Steel, Inc., No. 5:04 MJ 5053, 2006 WL 2334719, at *5 (N.D. Ohio August 10, 2006) (concluding that FWS failed to prove criminal violation beyond a reasonable doubt).

[206] Western and Central Pacific Fisheries Convention Implementation Act, 16 U.S.C. §§ 6901–6910 (2006).

[207] Convention on the Conservation and Management of Highly Migratory Fish Stocks in the Western and Central Pacific Ocean, http://sedac.ciesin.org/entri/texts/fish.west.cent.pac.
2000.html
(last visited Apr. 10, 2011); see also W. and Cent. Pacific Fisheries Comm’n, http://www.wcpfc.int/ (last visited Apr. 10, 2011).

[208] 50 C.F.R. § 300.223(a) (2009) (establishing purse seine fishing restrictions and specifically the fishing day limits).

[209] International Fisheries; Western and Central Pacific Fisheries for Highly Migratory Species; Bigeye Tuna Catch Limits in Longline Fisheries in 2009, 2010, and 2011, 74 Fed. Reg. 63,999, 64,010 (Dec. 7, 2009) (to be codified at 50 C.F.R. § 300.224) (discussing yearly quota for years 2009, 2010, and 2011 of “3,763 metric tons of bigeye tuna that may be captured in the Convention Area by longline gear and retained on board by fishing vessels of the United States during the calendar year”).

[210] The WCPFCA applies over the “convention area,” which means all waters of the Pacific Ocean located roughly between the 4th and 60th parallels south latitude and between the 150th meridian east longitude (the east coast of Australia) and the 130th meridian west longitude (just east of French Polynesia). 16 U.S.C. 6901(a)(4) (2006).

[211] Atlantic Tunas Convention Act of 1975, 16 U.S.C. §§ 971–971k (2006).

[212] See id. at § 971(1) (defining “Convention” as the “International Convention for the Conservation of Atlantic Tunas”); see also International Convention for the Conservation of Atlantic Tunas, May 14, 1966, 20 U.S.T. 6767, 673 U.N.T.S. 9587.

[213] See, e.g., 50 C.F.R. § 635.22(b) (2009) (“Billfish. No longbill spearfish from the management unit may be taken, retained, or possessed shoreward of the outer boundary of the EEZ.”). Management unit for Atlantic tunas, longbill spearfish, blue marlin and white marlin, means all fish of these species in the Atlantic Ocean. Id. § 635.2.

[214] Id. § 635.23 (“(a) General category. (1) No person aboard a vessel that has a General category Atlantic Tunas permit may possess, retain, land, or sell a [bluefin tuna (BFT)] in the school, large school, or small medium size class. . . . (3) Regardless of the length of a trip, no more than a single day’s retention limit of large medium or giant BFT may be possessed or retained aboard a vessel that has a General category Atlantic Tunas permit. On days other than [restricted fishing days], when the General category is open, no person aboard such vessel may continue to fish, and the vessel must immediately proceed to port once the applicable limit for large medium or giant BFT is retained. . . . (b) Angling category. BFT may be retained and landed under the daily limits and quotas applicable to the Angling category by persons aboard vessels issued an [highly migratory species] Angling permit as follows: (1) Large medium and giant BFT. (i) No large medium or giant BFT may be retained, possessed, landed, or sold in the Gulf of Mexico, except one per vessel per year may be landed if caught incidentally to fishing for other species. . . . (d) Harpoon category. Persons aboard a vessel permitted in the Atlantic Tunas Harpoon category may retain, possess, or land an unlimited number of giant BFT per day. An incidental catch of only two large medium BFT per vessel per day may be retained, possessed, or landed.”).

[215] See, e.g., 33 U.S.C. § 1314 (2006).

[216] Best management practices under the Clean Water Act, Federal Water Pollution Control Act, 33 U.S.C. §§ 1251–1387 (2006), are developed and implemented to control nonpoint source pollution, and refer to “schedules of activities, prohibitions of practices, maintenance procedures, and other management practices to prevent or reduce the pollution of waters of the United States.” 40 C.F.R. § 122.2 (2010); see also U.S. Envtl. Prot. Agency, The Use of Best Management Practices (BMPs) in Urban Watersheds, at 1-4 to 1-5 (2004), available at http://www.epa.gov/nrmrl/pubs/600r04184/600r04184.pdf (“[With respect to stormwater management,] BMP refers to operational activities, physical controls or educational measures that are applied to reduce the discharge of pollutants and minimize potential impacts upon receiving waters, and accordingly, refers to both structural and nonstructural practices that have direct impacts on the release, transport, or discharge of pollutants.”); U.S. Envtl. Prot. Agency, Guidance Manual for Developing Best Management Practices, at 1-3 to -4 (1993) (with respect to industrial facilities specifically, BMP activities focus on activities associated with or ancillary to industrial manufacturing or treatment processes, identified as plant site runoff, spillage or leaks, sludge or waste disposal, and drainage from raw material storage).

[217] The Department of Interior’s Bureau of Land Management defines best management practices as “state-of-the-art mitigation measures applied on a site-specific basis to reduce, prevent, or avoid adverse environmental or social impacts . . . applied to oil and gas drilling and production . . . .” Bureau of Land Mgmt., U.S. Dep’t of Interior, BMP Frequently Asked Questions, http://www.blm.gov/wo/st/en/prog/energy/oil_and_gas/best_management_practices/
frequently_asked_questions.htm (last visited Apr. 10, 2011). U.S. Forest Service policy (FSM 2532.03) directs that BMPs be the primary tools for controlling nonpoint source pollution for the Forest Service. Pamela Edwards et al., The USDA Forest Service’s National Best Management Practice Program 2 (2010), available at http://www.acwi.gov/monitoring/
conference/2010/manuscripts/E2_2_Edwards.pdf. See generally Julianne Thompson & Jenny Fryxell, Best Management Practices (BMP) Implementation Monitoring Keys to Success and Pitfalls to Avoid (2007), available at http://www.stream.fs.fed.us/afsc/pdfs/Thompson.pdf.

[218] George G. Ice, Erik G. Schilling & Jeff G. Vowell, Trends for Forestry Best Management Practices Implementation, 108 J. Forestry 267, 268–70 (2010); Soc’y of Am. Foresters, Best Management Practices, http://wiki.safnet.org/index.php/Best_Management_Practices (last visited Apr. 10, 2011); see also Ga. Forestry Comm’n, Georgia’s Best Management Practices for Forestry (2009), available at http://www.gfc.state.ga.us/ForestManagement/documents/
BMPManualGA0609.pdf; David B. Kittredge, Jr. & Michael Parker, Massachusetts Forestry Best Management Practices Manual (1999), available at http://www.mass.gov/dep/water/
drinking/forstbmp.pdf
; S.C. Forestry Comm’n, South Carolina’s Best Management Practices for Forestry (2007–2008), available at http://www.state.sc.us/forest/bmp07.pdf.

[219] Federal Water Pollution Control Act, 33 U.S.C. §§ 1251–1387 (2006).

[220] Robert L. Fischman, Predictions and Prescriptions for the Endangered Species Act, 34 Envtl. L. 451, 475–78 (2004); Robert L. Fischman, The Divides of Environmental Law and the Problem of Harm in the Endangered Species Act, 83 Ind. L.J. 661, 691–92 (2008) [hereinafter Fischman, The Divides of Environmental Law and the Problem of Harm in the Endangered Species Act].

[221] See supra text accompanying notes 84–88.

[222] See supra Part III.B (state conservation plans), Part III.C (land use plans for acquired or designated properties), and Part III.D (take prohibition or reduction plans).

[223] See Interim Voluntary Guidelines to Avoid and Minimize Wildlife Impacts from Wind Turbines, 68 Fed. Reg. 41,174, 41,174–75 (July 10, 2003); U.S. Fish & Wildlife Serv., Guidance Regarding Use of the Wind Turbine Guidelines Advisory Committee’s Recommendation, http://www.fws.gov/habitatconservation/windpower/wind_turbine_advisory_committee.html (last visited Feb. 11, 2011); see also Avian Power Line Interaction Comm. (APLIC), Suggested Practices for Avian Protection on Power Lines: The State of the Art in 2006 (2006), available at http://www.aplic.org/SuggestedPractices2006(LR).pdf (suggesting voluntary guidelines developed by the Department of the Interior and a group of electric companies to help the industry protect birds from electrocution on utility poles and power lines); Memorandum from Jamie Rappaport Clark, Dir. of U.S. Fish & Wildlife Serv. to Reg’l Dirs., U.S. Fish & Wildlife Serv. (Sept. 14, 2000), available at http://www.fws.gov/policy/m0084.html (regarding service guidance on the siting, construction, operation, and decommissioning of communications towers).

[224] 50 C.F.R. § 622.31 (2009) (prohibiting gear and methods); id. § 622.41 (specifying specific limitations).

[225] Atlantic Tunas Convention of 1975, 16 U.S.C. §§ 971–971k (2006).

[226] 50 C.F.R. § 635.21(c)(2)(v)(A) (2009).

[227] Id. § 635.21(c)–(d).

[228] Id. § 635.21.

[229] For our purposes in this Part, “wildlife” encompasses all animal taxa, including all vertebrates, as well as a variety of invertebrates, that undertake annual migrations that transit or have an endpoint in U.S. lands or waters.

[230] See generally Stephen R. Palumbi et al., Managing for Ocean Biodiversity to Sustain Marine Ecosystem Services, 7 Frontiers Ecology & Env’t 204, 204–10 (2009) (discussing the meaning and interplay of ecosystem management and adaptive management).

[231] See generally Michael J. Manfredo et al., Human Dimensions of Wildlife Management: Basic Concepts, in Wildlife and Recreationists: Coexistence Through Management and Research 17 (Richard L. Knight & Kevin J. Gutzwiller eds., 1995) (providing a good introduction to human dimensions of wildlife management).

[232] See Magnuson-Stevens Fishery Conservation and Management Act, 16 U.S.C. § 1812(a) (2006); Migratory Bird Conservation Act, 16 U.S.C. § 715d; Marine Mammal Protection Act of 1972, 16 U.S.C. § 1389.

[233] The total number of acres managed by the Bureau of Land Management is 261.5 million. Carol Hardy Vincent, Cong. Research Serv., RL 32393, Federal Land Management Agencies: Background on Land and Resources Management 2 (2004), available at http://www.nationalaglawcenter.org/assets/crs/RL32393.pdf.

[234] The total number of acres managed by the Forest Service is 192.5 million. Id.

[235] The total number of acres managed by the Fish and Wildlife Service is 95.4 million. Id.

[236] The total number of acres managed by the National Park Service is 79.0 million. Id.

[237] Federal Land Policy and Management Act of 1976, 43 U.S.C. §§ 1701–1785 (2006).

[238] Id. § 1702(c).

[239] See, e.g., U.S. Forest Serv., About Us—Mission, http://www.fs.fed.us/aboutus/
mission.shtml (last visited Apr. 10, 2011).

[240] National Forest Management Act of 1976, 16 U.S.C. §§ 1600–1687 (2006).

[241] Id. § 1604(g)(3)(B).

[242] 36 C.F.R. § 219.19 (2010).

[243] See Barry R. Noon et al., Conservation Science, Biodiversity, and the 2005 U.S. Forest Service Regulations, 19 Conservation Biology 1359, 1359–61 (2005) (discussing the biodiversity implications of the 2005 regulations). The 2005 regulations were enjoined in 2007. See Citizens for Better Forestry v. U.S. Dep’t of Agric., 481 F. Supp. 2d 1059, 1100 (N.D. Cal. 2007). In 2008, the Bush administration issued another rule and in 2009, it was struck down. See Citizens for Better Forestry v. U.S. Dep’t of Agric., 632 F. Supp. 2d. 968, 982 (N.D. Cal. 2009). A proposed planning rule that will replace the 1982 rule is undergoing public comment. See National Forest System Land Management Planning, 74 Fed. Reg. 67,165, 67,166 (Dec. 18, 2009).

[244] U.S. Dep’t of Agric., USDA Departmental Regulation No. 9500-4, Fish and Wildlife Policy (1983).

[245] 36 C.F.R. § 219.19(a)(1) (2010) (outlining the purpose of management indicator species and the criteria to be used in identifying them).

[246] U.S. Fish & Wildlife Serv., National Wildlife Refuge System, http://www.fws.gov/refuges/ (last visited Apr. 13, 2011).

[247] U.S. Fish & Wildlife Serv., How Are Lands Classified Within the National Wildlife Refuge System?, http://www.fws.gov/refuges/about/lands.html (last visited Apr. 13, 2011).

[248] See Robert L. Fischman, The National Wildlife Refuges: Coordinating a Conservation System Through Law 90–93 (2003).

[249] See Noon et al., supra note 243, at 1360.

[250] National Wildlife Refuge Improvement Act of 1997, 16 U.S.C. § 668dd (2006).

[251] Id. § 668dd(a)(4)(B).

[252] Final Compatibility Policy Pursuant to the National Wildlife Refuge System Improvement Act of 1997, 65 Fed. Reg. 62,484, 62,486 (Oct. 18, 2000); see 16 U.S.C. § 668dd(a)(3)(A) (2006).

[253] See Fischman, supra note 248, at 91.

[254] 16 U.S.C. §§ 3771–3774 (2006).

[255] Id. § 3772(1). “Interjurisdictional fishery resource” is defined as

(A) a fishery resource for which a fishery occurs in waters under the jurisdiction of one or more States and the exclusive economic zone established by Proclamation Numbered 5030, dated March 10, 1983;

(B) a fishery resource for which there exists an interstate fishery management plan; or

(C) a fishery resource which migrates between the waters under the jurisdiction of two or more States bordering on the Great Lakes.

Id. § 4102(3).

[256] See Robert L. Fischman & Bob Adamcik, Beyond Trust Species: The Conservation Potential of the National Wildlife Refuge System in the Wake of Climate Change, Nat. Resources J. (forthcoming), available at http://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract
_id=1561948.

[257] George Orwell, Animal Farm 118 (Harcourt Brace Jovanovich 1990).

[258] U.S. Fish & Wildlife Serv., Fish and Wildlife Service Manual, Refuge Management 3.20 (2001) available at http://www.fws.gov/policy/601fw3.pdf.

[259] National Park Service Organic Act, 16 U.S.C. § 1 (2006).

[260] Nat’l Park Serv., Management Policies 2006 at 11 (2006), available at www.nps.gov/policy/mp2006.pdf.

[261] Robert L. Fischman, The Problem of Statutory Detail in National Park Establishment Legislation and Its Relationship to Pollution Control Law, 74 Denv. U. L. Rev. 779, 782 (1997).

[262] Nat’l Park Serv., supra note 260, at 10–12.

[263] Id. at 36–37.

[264] Id. at 43.

[265] Id. at 13–14.

[266] The NRWSIA specifies a 15-year rolling planning interval for the Comprehensive Conservation Plans required of each refuge while the NPS management policies provide no time line. 16 U.S.C. § 668dd(e) (2006). The NWRSIA also states that the Secretary of the Interior shall “monitor the status and trends of fish, wildlife, and plants in each refuge.” Id. § 668dd(a)(4)(N). NPS management policy indicates that “natural systems in the national park system, and the human influences upon them, will be monitored to detect change.” Nat’l Park Serv., supra note 260, at 37. Further, the NPS states that “[l]ong-term research or monitoring may also be necessary to correctly understand the effects of management actions on natural resources whose function and significance are not clearly understood.” Id. No further specifics are provided.

[267] John Lemons, Revisiting the Meaning and Purpose of the “National Park Service Organic Act, 46 Envtl. Mgmt. 81, 87 (2010). In addition, a thorough discussion of the issues arising from the conservation–enjoyment tension is presented by Professor Denise E. Antolini. See Denise E. Antolini, National Park Law in the U.S.: Conservation, Conflict, and Centennial Values, 33 Wm. & Mary Envtl. L. & Pol’y Rev. 851, 884–911 (2009).

[268] See supra text accompanying note 251.

[269] See supra text accompanying notes 242–44.

[270] Gordon R. Batcheller et al., Wildlife Soc’y, Technical Review 10-01, Public Trust Doctrine: Implications for Wildlife Management and Conservation in the United States and Canada 9–20, 21 tbl.1 (2010).

[271] See generally Robert L. Fischman & Angela M. King, Savings Clauses and Trends in Natural Resources Federalism, 32 Wm. & Mary Envtl. L. & Pol’y Rev. 129 (2007) (a review of savings clauses—the language that reserves areas of state power in statutory laws that otherwise convey power to the federal government).

[272] See Robert L. Fischman, Cooperative Federalism and Natural Resources Law, 14 N.Y.U. Envtl. L.J. 179, 200 (2005) (reviewing the requirements in the organic legislation for the BLM, U.S. Forest Services, and FWS). The National Park Service has similar language in its Management Policies. See Nat’l Park Serv., supra note 260, at 44.

[273] See Steven M. Davis, Preservation, Resource Extraction, and Recreation on Public Lands: A View from the States, 48 Nat. Resources J. 303, 316–19 (2008).

[274] See supra Part III.A.

[275] See infra Part IV.B.3.

[276] NOAA Office of the Gen. Council, Maritime Zones and Boundaries, http://www.gc.noaa.gov/gcil_maritime.html (last visited Apr. 10, 2011); see infra text accompanying notes 296–97.

[277] 16 U.S.C. §§ 661–667e (2006).

[278] Id. § 662(b).

[279] Id. § 663(b).

[280] Id. § 663(c).

[281] Id. § 665a.

[282] Id. §§ 1431–1445c-1.

[283] See Exec. Order No. 13,158, 3 C.F.R. 273, 275 (2001), reprinted in 16 U.S.C. § 1431 app., at 422–23 (2006).

[284] 16 U.S.C. § 1431(b)(3) (2006).

[285] Id. § 1431(b)(4).

[286] Robin Kundis Craig, A Comparative Guide to the Eastern Public Trust Doctrines: Classification of States, Property Rights, and State Summaries, 16 Penn St. Envtl. L. Rev. 1, 4 (2007). The original 13 colonies obtained title when the United States achieved independence; the remaining states acquired the same rights under the Equal Footing Doctrine. Id. at 6.

[287] Id.; Robin Kundis Craig, A Comparative Guide to the Western States’ Public Trust Doctrines: Public Values, Private Rights and the Evolution Toward an Ecological Public Trust, 37 Ecology L.Q. 53, 69 (2010).

[288] Craig, supra note 287, at 71, 84.

[289] Id. at 71.

[290] See Craig, supra note 286, at 82.

[291] 16 U.S.C. § 1533(d) (2006).

[292] Id. § 704.

[293] See supra note 255 and accompanying text.

[294] Dean Lueck & Jonathan Yoder, Environmental Federalism 101 (Terry Lee Anderson & Peter Jensen Hill eds., 1997) (“[S]tates have the dominant regulatory authority over wildlife control and use, typically vested in a state “fish and game” or “wildlife” agency.”); see also 16 U.S.C. § 708 (2006); 50 C.F.R. § 20.20(e) (2009).

[295] Submerged Lands Act of 1953, 43 U.S.C. § 1311–1312 (2006); Outer Continental Shelf Lands Act of 1953, 43 U.S.C. § 1333 (2006); Magnuson-Stevens Fishery Conservation and Management Act, 16 U.S.C. § 1856 (2006).

[296] Nat’l Oceanographic & Atmospheric Admin., What Is the EEZ?, http://oceanservice.noaa.gov/facts/eez.html (last visited Apr. 10, 2011).

[297] 16 U.S.C. §§ 1801–1884 (2006).

[298] Katrina M. Wyman, The Property Rights Challenge in Marine Fisheries, 50 Ariz. L. Rev. 511, 515–16 (2008) (describing the current governance scheme under the Magnuson-Stevens Fishery Conservation and Management Act, including regional fisheries council membership selected by the Secretary of Commerce often composed of “substantial representation” by state interests).

[299] Jeff Brax, Zoning the Oceans: Using the National Marine Sanctuaries Act and the Antiquities Act to Establish Marine Protection Areas and Marine Reserves in America, 29 Ecology L.Q. 71, 80 (2002).

[300] Andrew A. Rosenberg et al., Rebuilding US Fisheries: Progress and Problems, 4 Frontiers Ecology & Env’t 303, 304–05 (2006) (reporting that 72% of stocks under mandated rebuilding plans were still overfished, although 48% were increasing). Clearly, Magnuson-Stevens has not been a panacea for overfishing.

[301] Dale D. Goble & Eric T. Freyfogle, Wildlife Law 833–37 (2d ed. 2010).

[302] See Marra, Hunter & Perrault, supra note 19, at 323–24.

[303] See id. at 323 (discussing the geolocator, an affordable daylight level data recorder for tracking animals).

[304] See generally, M. Ausden, Habitat management for Conservation: a Handbook of Techniques (Oxford Univ. Press 2007).

[305] See Katherine Simmons Yagerman, Protecting Critical Habitat Under the Federal Endangered Species Act, 20 Envtl. L. 811, 817 (1990).

[306] U.S. Fish & Wildlife Serv., U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service Habitat Restoration Projects, http://recovery.doi.gov/press/bureaus/us-fish-and-wildlife-service/usfws-habitat-restoration-projects-funded-by-the-american-recovery-and-reinvestment-act/ (last visited Feb. 9, 2011).

[307] See, e.g., John G. Palis et al., Breeding Biology of a Florida Population of Ambystoma cingulatum (Flatwoods Salamander) During a Drought, 5 Southeastern Naturalist 1, 1 (2006) (studying how drought affects the migration to breeding pools of one species of salamander).

[308] See, e.g., X. Glaudas et al., Migration Patterns in a Population of Cottonmouths (Agkistrodon piscivorus) Inhabiting an Isolated Wetland, 271 J. Zoology 119, 119, 122–23 (2007) (studying movement patterns of one species of snake from its hibernation dens to its active zones).

[309] See Atwell, O’Neal & Ketterson, supra note 59, at 297–98.

[310] Eric Petit & Nathaniel Valiere, Estimating Population Size with Noninvasive Capture-Mark-Recapture Data, 20 Conservation Biology 1062, 1063 (2006).

[311] See Marra, Hunter & Perrault, supra note 19, at 323–24.

[312] See Operation Migration, Our Work, http://www.operationmigration.org/work
_wcranes.html (last visited Apr. 10, 2011).

[313] See, e.g., John R. Cannon, Whooping Crane Recovery: A Case Study in Public and Private Cooperation in the Conservation of Endangered Species, 10 Conservation Biology 813, 818 (1996) (describing efforts to introduce Whooping Crane populations in locations where migration is unnecessary for species protection).

[314] U.S. Fish & Wildlife Serv., Migratory Bird Mortality: Many Human-Caused Threats Afflict Our Bird Populations (2002), available at http://www.fws.gov/birds/mortality-fact-sheet.pdf.

[315] See supra Part IV.A.1.a.

[316] Partners in Flight, http://www.partnersinflight.org/ (last visited Apr. 10, 2011).

[317] See Partners in Flight, What Is Partners in Flight (PIF)?, http://www.partnersinflight.org/
description.cfm (last visited Apr. 10, 2011).

[318] See N.J. Dep’t of Envtl. Prot., New Jersey Wildlife Action Plan 2 (2008), available at http://www.state.nj.us/dep/fgw/ensp/wap/pdf/wap_draft.pdf; see also Ass’n of Fish & Wildlife Servs., State Wildlife Action Plans: Working Together to Prevent Wildlife from Becoming Endangered, http://www.wildlifeactionplans.org/ (last visited Apr. 10, 2011) (cataloging SWAPS from all fifty states, the District of Columbia, Puerto Rico, and the Virgin Islands).

[319] See Matthew Birnbaum et al., An Evaluation of the State Wildlife Conservation Grant Program, 2004–2008: Building Multi-State Regional Efforts upon State Wildlife Action Plans 4 (2010), available at http://www.nfwf.org/AM/Template.cfm?Section=Home
&TEMPLATE=/CM/ContentDisplay.cfm&CONTENTID=17050.

[320] See supra text accompanying notes 307–08.

[321] See generally Raymond D. Semlitsch and J. Russell Bodie, Biological Criteria for Buffer Zones Around Wetlands and Riparian Habitats for Amphibians and Reptiles, 17 Conservation Biology 1219, 1220 (2003) (identifying local and migratory habitat needs for amphibians and reptiles).

[322] In Part II, we made the distinction between species that migrate along a broad front, such as many songbirds do, and species that migrate along narrow corridors, such as waterfowl do. Because species that migrate along a broad front are spread over a large landscape, no single small property is likely to be of importance to their migration. See supra text accompanying notes 55–57.

[323] David N. Cherney, supra note 161, at 605–609.

[324] U.S. Dep’t of Agric., Migratory Shore Bird Habitat Management app. 1, available at http://www.efotg.sc.egov.usda.gov/references/public/AL/646A.pdf.

[325] Road closures would be particularly helpful for slow-moving terrestrial species with predictable movements over short periods of time. See Richard T. T. Forman & Lauren E. Alexander, Roads and Their Major Ecological Effects, 29 Ann. Rev. Ecology & Systematics 207, 222 (1998). Careful consideration of hunting mortality has protected North American migratory waterfowl since the signing of the Migratory Bird Treaty. Waterfowl Hunting Mgmt. in N. Am., Federal Regulations Background, http://www.flyways.us/regulations-and-harvest/federal-regulations-background (last visited Apr. 10, 2011).

[326] See generally Frank R. Moore et al., Stopover Habitat: Management Implications and Guidelines, in U.S. Dep’t of Agric., Status and Management of Neotropical Migratory Birds General Technical Report RM-229, at 58, 65, 66 tbl.1 (1993) (discussing issues related to conservation and management of stopover habitat).

[327] See, e.g., Sarah R. Dewey & Patricia L. Kennedy, Effects of Supplemental Food on Paternal-Care Strategies and Juvenile Survival of Northern Goshawks, 118 Auk 352, 352–53 (2001) (discussing existing studies of supplemental feeding for birds).

[328] Andrew Goode, The Plight and Outlook for Migratory Fish in the Gulf of Maine, J. Contemp. Water Res. & Educ., July, 2006, at 23, 24.

[329] Danger to migrating pronghorn from fences is well documented. See Arthur W. Allen et al., U.S. Fish & Wildlife Serv., FWS/OBS-82/10.65, Habitat Suitability Index Models: Pronghorn 6 (1984); Wildlife Mgmt. Inst., Big Game of North America: Ecology and Management 354 (John L. Schmidt & Douglas L. Gilbert eds., 1978). Problems faced by migrating large mammals in Africa are also well documented. See Douglas Williamson & Jane Williamson, Botswana’s Fences and the Depletion of Kalahari Wildlife, 18 Oryx 218, 218 (2004); Joseph E. Mbaiwa & Onaletshepho I. Mbaiwa, The Effects of Veterinary Fences on Wildlife Populations in Okavango Delta, Botswana, Int’l J. Wilderness, Dec. 2006, at 17, 22.

[330] Stacey L. Hoover & Michael L. Morrison, Behavior of Red-Tailed Hawks in a Wind Turbine Development, 69 J. Wildlife Mgmt. 150, 157–58 (2005).

[331] See Francis K. Wiese & Gregory J. Robertson, Assessing Seabird Mortality from Chronic Oil Discharges at Sea, 68 J. Wildlife Mgmt. 627, 627 (2004).

[332] Fischman & Hyman, supra note 27, at 185–86.

[333] See Anne Charmantier et al., Adaptive Phenotypic Plasticity in Response to Climate Change in a Wild Bird Population, 320 Science 800, 800 (2008).

[334] U.S. Fish & Wildlife Serv., White-Nose Syndrome in Bats: Frequently Asked Questions ¶10 (2009), available at http://www.fws.gov/northeast/pdf/white-nosefaqs.pdf.

[335] Id.; see also Winifred F. Frick et al., An Emerging Disease Causes Regional Population Collapse of a Common North American Bat Species, 329 Science 679, 680 (2010).

[336] For a discussion of the interplay of ecological and sociological issues in analyzing risk from avian influenza, see Graeme S. Cumming, Risk Mapping for Avian Influenza: A Social–Ecological Problem, 15 Ecology & Soc’y, no. 3, at 32, 33 (2010), available at http://www.ecologyandsociety.org/vol15/iss3/art32/. The editorial in this special feature summarizes the discussion of the role of migratory birds in spreading avian influenza, and the implications for management of the disease. See generally id. Most of the papers associated with the special feature are in previous issues of the same journal. See Joseph P. Dudley, Public Health and Epidemiological Considerations for Avian Influenza Risk Mapping and Risk Assessment, 13 Ecology & Soc’y, no. 2, at 21 (2008), available at http://www.ecologyandsociety.org/vol13/iss2/art21/ES-2008-2548.pdf; Andy C. Stirling & Ian Scoones, From Risk Assessment to Knowledge Mapping: Science, Precaution, and Participation in Disease Ecology, 14 Ecology & Soc’y, no. 2, at 14 (2009), available at http://www.ecologyandsociety.org/vol14/iss2/art14/ES-2009-2980.pdf.

[337] See Allen Kurta & Susan W. Murray, Philopatry and Migration of Banded Indiana Bats (Myotis Sodalis) and Effects of Radio Transmitters, 83 J. Mammalogy 585, 597 (2002).

[338] See Interim Voluntary Guidelines to Avoid and Minimize Wildlife Impacts from Wind Turbines, 68 Fed. Reg. 41,174, 41,174–75 (July 10, 2003). Following discovery of the dead bat, FWS has worked with that specific landowner to minimize mortality and, within the Upper Midwest region (FWS Region 3) in the heart of Indiana bat range, has advised other wind farms to assess their potential risk under the ESA. See News Release, Georgia Parham, U.S. Fish & Wildlife Serv., U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service and Wind Farm Owners Works Together (Feb. 10, 2010), available at http://www.fws.gov/midwest/News/release.cfm?rid=177; Interview with Scott E. Pruitt, Field Supervisor for the FWS Ecological Services office in Bloomington, IN and lead biologist nationally for the Indiana bat (on file with author). For suggestions for improving bird and bat protection from wind turbines, see Lilley & Firestone, supra note 199, at 1205–14.

[339] The observed decline (-38.2%) from 2007 to 2009 in the Northeast recovery Unit (RU) is likely the result of bat mortality associated with the onset and spread of WNS. E-mail from Andrew King, Fish & Wildlife Biologist, Bloomington Field Office, U.S. Fish & Wildlife Serv. (Dec. 7, 2010) (on file with author). The Northeast RU comprises portions of New York, New Hampshire, Massachusetts, Connecticut, New Jersey, Pennsylvania. See U.S. Fish & Wildlife Serv., Indiana Bat (Myotis sodalis) Draft Recovery Plan: First Revision 119 fig.14 (2007), available at http://www.mcrcc.osmre.gov/MCR/Resources/bats/pdf/IN%20BAT%20DRAFT%20
PLAN%20apr07.pdf
.

[340] Frick et al., supra note 335, at 681 figs.3.A–.C.

[341] See Edward B. Arnett et al., Patterns of Bat Fatalities at Wind Energy Facilities in North America, 72 J. Wildlife Mgmt. 61, 61 (2008).

[342] Interview with Al Hicks, N.Y. Dep’t of Envtl. Conservation (on file with author).

[343] See Cryan, supra note 128, at 366–67.

[344] Lilley & Firestone, supra note 199, at 1170–75 (discussing high mortality rates caused by wind turbines in some areas combined with mounting stressors on avian populations resulting in mortality rates from turbines that are becoming a “cause of concern” for scientists).

[345] Kunz and colleagues provide predictions for mortality in 2020 in Thomas H. Kunz et al., Ecological Impacts of Wind Energy Development on Bats: Questions, Research Needs, and Hypotheses, 5 Frontiers Ecology & Env’t 315, 319 (2007). Kunz also provides for estimates for migratory and non-migratory bats in the Maryland, Pennsylvania, Virginia and West Virginia. See id. Web Tbl.2 (providing estimates for both migratory and non-migratory bats in the Mid-Atlantic Highlands); id. at 315 (defining the Mid-Atlantic Highlands as Maryland, Pennsylvania, Virginia, and West Virginia).

[346] C.H. Llewellyn Smith, former Director–General of the European Organization for Nuclear Research (CERN), defines “basic science” simply as science “motivated by curiosity,” and contrasts it with “applied science” which is “designed to answer specific questions.” European Org. for Nuclear Research, Basic Versus Applied Science, http://public.web.cern.ch/
public/en/about/BasicScience2-en.html
(last visited Apr. 10, 2011). The U.S. National Science Foundation’s strategic plan identifies itself as “the premier Federal agency supporting basic research at the frontiers of discovery, across all fields.” U.S. Nat’l Sci. Found., Investing in America’s Future: Strategic Plan 1, available at http://www.nsf.gov/pubs/2006/nsf0648/NSF-06-48.pdf. The vision articulated in the plan “[a]dvancing discovery, innovation and education beyond the frontiers of current knowledge, and empowering future generations in science and engineering” points to the usefulness of science that seeks new information regardless of its immediate applicability. Id. at 5. As a generality, academic ecologists and evolutionary biologists often focus primarily or exclusively on basic science, seeking mechanistic and causative explanations of natural phenomena, not necessarily in the context of an applied question. In contrast, agency and academic scientists in a variety of fields such as applied ecology, natural resources management, and conservation biology, as well as natural resource managers with training in research are more likely to undertake studies to address questions of immediate interest to managers or policy-makers. A blunt and somewhat irreverent discussion of the science/management schism in the freshwater arena was presented by a participant in the fray in Australia, Peter Cullen. See Peter Cullen, The Turbulent Boundary Between Water Science and Water Management, 24 Freshwater Biology 201, 202–03 (1990). Cullen suggested agencies needed to differentiate between scientists hired to undertake research and scientists hired to be information brokers working to ensure science is applied properly in management. Id. at 206. Cullen also provided a deliberate caricature of the different mindsets involved in water management to illuminate the differences among the players:

Engineers don’t care why it works as long as they think it does.

Scientists don’t care if it works or not as long as they understand why.

Economists don’t care either way if the internal rate of return is OK.

Managers don’t know unless someone bothers to tell them.

Planners know how it should have turned out.

Id. at 203.

[347] Bjørn Munro Jenssen, Endocrine-Disrupting Chemicals and Climate Change: A Worst-Case Combination for Arctic Marine Mammals and Seabirds?, 114 Envtl. Health Persp. (Supp. 1) 76, 78 (2006).

[348] See Scott Finet, Habitat Protection and the Migratory Bird Treaty Act, 10 Tul. Envtl. L.J. 6 n.15 (1996).

[349] Fischman, supra note 248, at 36–37.

[350] Migratory Bird Hunting and Conservation Stamp Act, 16 U.S.C. §§ 718a –719c (2006).

[351] Convention on Wetlands of International Importance Especially as Waterfowl Habitat, supra note 169.

[352] See W. Hemisphere Shorebird Reserve Network, About WHSRN, http://www.whsrn.org/
western-hemisphere-shorebird-reserve-network
(last visited Apr. 10, 2011).

[353] See Peter A. Cotton, Avian Migration Phenology and Global Climate Change, 100 Proc. Nat’l Acad. Sci. 12,219, 12,219–21 (2003) (discussing phonological impacts of climate change on migration).

[354] Fischman, The Divides of Environmental Law and the Problem of Harm in the Endangered Species Act, supra note 220, at 678.

[355] An example of such incongruence between scientific versus legal or policy typologies driven by public and political pressures can be found in the status of Mute Swan under the MBTA. Mute swans, which are native to northern Europe and Asia, were introduced into the United States in the late 19th century for their ornamental value. Mute swans have a scientific classification as an exotic (non-native) species, and research demonstrates their invasiveness and detrimental impacts on bird communities and other animals. See, e.g., Charles C. Allin & Thomas P. Husband, Mute Swan (Cygnus olor) Impact on Submerged Aquatic Vegetation and Macroinvertebrates in a Rhode Island Coastal Pond, 10 Ne. Naturalist 305, 305 (2003). Mute Swans were included in the MBTA protections by a court order until 2005 due to the public’s affinity for the swans. Compare Hill v. Norton, 275 F.3d 98, 107 (D.C. Cir. 2001) (invalidating a regulation excluding Mute Swans from coverage under the Migratory Bird Treaty Act), with 16 U.S.C. § 703 (2006) (excluding non-native birds from coverage under the Migratory Bird Treaty Act). In 2005, Mute Swans were officially declared a non-native and unprotected species following the Migratory Bird Treaty Reform Act of 2004. See Final List of Bird Species to Which the Migratory Bird Treaty Act Does Not Apply, 70 Fed. Reg 12,710, 12,714 (Mar. 15, 2005). The policies of some state governments, however, still protect Mute Swans. See, e.g., N.Y. State Dep’t of Envtl. Conservation, Mute Swan, http://www.dec.ny.gov/animals/7076.html (last visited Apr. 10, 2011) (describing mute swan population in New York State and State research activities).

[356] See generally Gary M. Lovett et al., Who Needs Environmental Monitoring?, 5 Frontiers Ecology & Env’t 253 (2007) (discussing the necessity of monitoring not as a science, but as a necessary tool for scientists).

[357] For example, a recent study used modeling to examine impacts of plasticity—the ability of organisms to exhibit different behaviors and morphologies without genetic differences—and evolutionary change on the age and size at which harvested individuals mature. Bruno Ernande et al., Adaptive Change in Harvested Populations: Plasticity and Evolution of Age and Size at Maturation, 271 Proc. Royal Soc’y B 415, 418 (2003). Evolutionary change tends to reduce biomass of harvested individuals, precisely the opposite impact that managers want. Id. at 417–18.

[358] David R. Anderson, The Need to Get the Basics Right in Wildlife Field Studies, 29 Wildlife Soc’y Bull. 1294 (2001); Gary C. White, Why Take Calculus? Rigor in Wildlife Management, 29 Wildlife Soc’y Bull. 380 (2001). The issue has also been raised in conservation biology. See, e.g., Fiona Fidler et al., Impact of Criticism of Null-Hypothesis Significance Testing on Statistical Reporting Practices in Conservation Biology, 20 Conservation Biology 1539 (2006).

[359] A recent study distinguished between focused, or targeted monitoring designed to address specific information needs, and surveillance monitoring, which tracks basic environmental trends as a form of early-warning system and as a means of gathering long-term environmental data that would otherwise not be available. See Brendan A. Wintle et al., Allocating Monitoring Effort in the Face of Unknown Unknowns, 13 Ecology Letters 1325 (2010).

[360] See Jonathan Silvertown, A New Dawn for Citizen Science, 24 Trends Ecology & Evolution 467 (2009) (discussing the growth and contributions of citizen science).

[361] One of NSF’s most important historical and current criteria for making funding decisions is the “Intellectual Merit” of the proposed research activities, which is assessed based on questions like: “How important is the proposed activity to advancing knowledge and understanding within its own field or across different fields?” and “To what extent does the proposed activity suggest and explore creative, original, or potentially transformative concepts?” See generally Nat’l Sci. Found., Grant Proposal Guide at III-1 (2010), available at http://www.nsf.gov/pubs/policydocs/pappguide/nsf11001/gpgprint.pdf. There is also an increasing consideration of the potential “Broader Impacts” of proposed research to more immediately benefit society at large, which includes the relevance for wildlife conservation and is assessed based on questions such as “What may be the benefits of the proposed activity to society?” and “To what extent will it enhance the infrastructure for research and education, such as facilities, instrumentation, networks, and partnerships?” See id.

[362] See Bat Conservation Int’l, North American Bat Conservation Fund, http://www.batcon.org/index.php/what-we-do/grants/n-american-bat-conservation-fund.html (last visited Apr. 10, 2011); Partners in Flight, What Is Partners in Flight?, http://www.partnersinflight.org/description.cfm (last visited Apr. 10, 2011) (describing partnership between Partners in Flight and various agencies including the U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service). Many of Partners in Flight’s partners provide grants to organizations conducting projects focusing on migration. See, e.g., Div. of Bird Habitat Conservation, U.S. Fish & Wildlife Serv., 2010 Neotropical Grants, http://www.fws.gov/birdhabitat/Grants/NMBCA/2010.shtm (last visited Apr. 10, 2011) (describing grants given in 2010 to organizations conducting projects designed to benefit bird habitat).

[363] Jeff Kueter, George C. Marshall Inst., Funding Flows for Climate Change Research and Related Activities 2–3, 7 (2005), available at http://www.marshall.org/pdf/
materials/289.pdf
.

[364] Id. at 6 fig.2 (showing historical percentages of research focused in different scientific fields).

[365] U.S.A. Nat’l Phenology Network, About Us, http://www.usanpn.org/about (last visited February 7, 2011); Nat’l Climate Change & Wildlife Sci. Ctr., U.S. Geological Survey, About NCCWSC, http://nccwsc.usgs.gov/about.shtml (last visited Apr. 10, 2011).

[366] Nat’l Inst. of Allergy & Infectious Diseases, U.S. Dept. of Health & Human Servs., Pub. No. 08-4753, NIAID: Planning for the 21st Century: 2008 Update 19–20 (2008).

[367] U.S. Geological Survey: Biological Resources Division, About Us, http://ecosystems.usgs.gov/about.html (last visited Apr. 10, 2011).

[368] U.S. Forest Serv., Dept. of Agric., About Forest Service Research & Development, http://www.fs.fed.us/research/ (last visited February 8, 2011); Teaming With Wildlife, State Wildlife Action Plans: Defining a Vision for Conservation Success, available at http://www.wildlifeactionplans.org/pdfs/wildlife_action_plan_overview.pdf.

[369] The Pittman-Robertson Act is also called the Federal Aid in Wildlife Restoration Act, and the Dingell-Johnson Act is also called the Federal Aid in Sport Fish Restoration Act. These acts place taxes on hunting and fishing gear in order to provide federal funds to assist states in wildlife and fisheries restoration and management, as well as to provide public access to hunting and fishing, and public education. See Pittman-Robertson Wildlife Restoration Act, 16 U.S.C. §§ 669–669k (2006); Dingell-Johnson Sport Fish Restoration Act, 16 U.S.C. §§ 777–777n (2006).

[370] For an introduction to fragmentation as a topic of concern for biodiversity conservation, see Alan B. Franklin et al., What Is Habitat Fragmentation?, in 25 Studies in Avian Biology, Effects of Habitat Fragmentation on Birds in Western Landscapes: Contrasts with Paradigms from the Eastern United States 20 (T. Luke George & David S. Dobkin eds., 2002).

[371] Id. at 26–27.

[372] David J. Glista et al., Vertebrate Road Mortality Predominantly Impacts Amphibians, 3 Herpetological Conservation & Biology 77, 81–83 (2008).

[373] See U.S. Fish & Wildlife Serv., supra note 329, at 6 (discussing effects of fences on pronghorn in the U.S. Great Basin); see also Mbaiwa & Mbaiwa, supra note 329, at 19–20 (discussing effects of fences on wildlife in Okavango Delta, Botswana).

[374] Michael Larinier, Environmental Issues, Dams, and Fish Migration, in Fisher Res. Div., U.N. Food & Agric. Org., Dams, Technical Paper No. 419, Fish and Fisheries: Opportunities, Challenges and Conflict Resolution 45 (Gerd Mamulla ed., 2001), available at ftp://ftp.fao.org/docrep/fao/004/Y2785E/y2785e.pdf.

[375] Jonathan Thompson, Highways and Habitat: Managing Habitat Connectivity and Landscape Permeability for Wildlife, Pac. Nw. Sci. Findings, Jan. 2006, at 3, 5; see Ky. Dep’t of Fish & Wildlife, Wildlife Corridors, http://fw.ky.gov/wildcorr.asp (last visited Apr. 10, 2011) (stating that “narrow grassland strips may predispose animals that use them to predation”).

[376] See, e.g., Cori Dolan & Bill Mannan, Fencing for Wildlife 1 (2009), available at http://cals.arizona.edu/pubs/natresources/az1481h.pdf (discussing wildlife-friendly fencing); Raymond D. Mapston et al., A Pass for Antelope in Sheep-Tight Fences, 23 J. Range Mgmt. 457, 457–59 (1970) (providing information on pronghorn vulnerability to fences).

[377] Cherney, supra note 161, at 602 (describing a situation in which a conservation group replaced fencing with wildlife-friendly fencing on private land).

[378] Chandra Rosenthal & Kara Gillon, Don’t Fence Me In—Application of the Unlawful Inclosures of Public Lands Act to Benefit Wildlife, 5 Animal L. 1, 8–10 (1999). The fence in question killed approximately 700 antelope during one winter snowstorm in 1983. Dirk Johnson, When Antelope Don’t Roam Free, N.Y. Times, Nov. 18, 1988, at A16.

[379] Larinier, supra note 374, at 47.

[380] Fragmentation and mortality obviously have local impacts on individuals, but their cumulative effects along a migration corridor or migration front affect landscape patterns and have implications at the population and species levels. Where obstacles to movement or levels of mortality are sufficiently severe, species’ ranges can be truncated and migrations halted or curtailed. Id. at 49–53.

[381] U.S. Fish & Wildlife Serv., supra note 258; Arnett et al., supra note 341, at 62.

[382] Allan L. Drewitt & Rowena H. W. Langston, Assessing the Impact of Wind Farms on Birds, 148 Ibis 29, 30 (2006).

[383] Appropriate construction can reduce impacts of fences to some species, notably pronghorn. U.S. Fish & Wildlife Serv., supra note 329, at 6. However, appropriate construction cannot reduce stationary object-induced mortality of large migrating birds such as cranes. James C. Lewis, Whooping Crane (Grus americana), in Birds of N. Am. Online, supra note 63, available at http://bna.birds.cornell.edu/bna/species/153.

[384] Jeff S. Kirby et al., Key Conservation Issues for Migratory Land- and Waterbird Species on the World’s Major Flyways, 18 Bird Conservation Int’l S49, S57. The Mediterranean is one such bottleneck. Id.

[385] See generally Eric Gilman et al., U.N. Food & Agric. Org., FAO Fisheries Circular No. 1025, Review of Measures Taken by Intergovernmental Organizations to Address Sea Turtle and Seabird Interactions in Marine Capture Fisheries (2007), available at ftp://ftp.fao.org/docrep/fao/010/a1426e/a1426e00.pdf (describing bycatch reduction strategies).

[386] The most recent reauthorization of the Magnuson-Stevens Act contains a requirement for a bycatch reduction program, which includes seabird interactions with fishing operations. 16 U.S.C. § 1865 (2006).

[387] See, e.g., Am. Bird Conservancy, Inc. v. Fed. Commc’ns Comm’n, 516 F.3d 1027, 1029 (D.C. Cir. 2008) (remanding order of FCC approving new communications towers in the Gulf Coast region for failure to satisfy requirements of NEPA and ESA). See generally Erwin G. Krasnow & Henry A. Solomon, Communications Towers: Increased Demand Coupled with Increased Regulation, 18 Media L. & Pol’y 45 (2008) (discussing regulation of communications towers).

[388] Executive Order 13,186, which clarifies the responsibilities of federal agencies under the MBTA, requires each federal agency taking an action likely to have a negative effect on migratory bird populations to develop and implement a memorandum of understanding (MOU) with the FWS (the lead agency) to promote the conservation of such populations. Exec. Order 13,186, 66 Fed. Reg. 3853, 3854 (Jan. 10, 2001).

[389] Section 404 of the 1972 Clean Water Act amendments authorize EPA to issue permits for discharge of dredged or fill material into navigable waters of the United States. Federal Water Pollution Control Act, 33 USC § 1344(a) (2006).

[390] See generally 23 C.F.R. pt. 774 (explaining the role of Department of Transportation).

[391] For example, the proposed Energy Policy Act of 2005 provided for new energy corridors that the National Parks Conservation Association warned members could threaten park scenery. Nat’l Parks Conservation Ass’n, Energy Corridors, Power Lines Threaten National Parkland, http://www.npca.org/media_center/fact_sheets/energy_corridors.html (last visited Apr. 10, 2011).

[392] See generally A. Dan Tarlock, Land Use Regulation: The Weak Link in Environmental Protection, 82 Wash. L. Rev. 651 (2007) (history of federal attempts to regulate land use).

[393] The property clause provides: “The Congress shall have Power to dispose of and make all needful Rules and Regulations respecting the Territory or other Property belonging to the United States.” U.S. Const. art. IV, § 3, cl. 2. See generally Minnesota v. Block, 660 F.2d 1240, 1248–49 (8th Cir. 1981), cert. denied, 455 U.S. 1007 (1982) (upholding constitutionality of the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness Act, which restricted private conduct on state-owned lands and waters within the boundaries of the BWCAW, as a valid exercise of Congress’ authority under the Property Clause); Peter A. Appel, The Power of Congress “Without Limitation”: The Property Clause and Federal Regulation of Private Property, 86 Minn. L. Rev. 1 (2001) (discussing the property clause and private property).

[394] See Upper Miss. River Conservation Comm., Upper Mississippi River Conservation Committee, http://www.umrcc.org/River%20Issues.html (last visited Apr. 10, 2011); Lower Miss. River Conservation Comm., Who We Are, http://www.lmrcc.org/who_we_are.htm (last visited Apr. 10, 2011); Miss. Interstate Coop. Res. Ass’n, Operation Framework and Procedures, http://www.micrarivers.org/who-we-are/operation-framework.html (last visited Apr. 10, 2011).

[395] W. Governor’s Ass’n, Initiative on Wildlife Corridors and Crucial Habitat, http://www.westgov.org/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=123&Itemid=68 (last visited Apr. 10, 2011) (explaining that the Western Governor’s Association is an alliance of governors of the 19 western states that possess territory west of the 100th meridian). The Association’s Wildlife Council has an initiative on wildlife corridors and crucial habitat and has committed to coordinating state geographic information systems to address the problem of wildlife corridors by 2013. Id.

[396] On the U.S. side, the program is led by the NGO Bat Conservation International. See Steve Walker, Mexico-U.S. Partnership Makes Gains For Migratory Bats, 13 BATS Mag. 3, 3­–4 (1995), available at http://www.batcon.org/index.php/media-and-info/bats-archives.html?task=view
Article&magArticleID=717.

[397] See Karen Oberhauser et al., Comm’n for Envtl. Cooperation, Monarch Butterfly Monitoring in North America: Overview of Initiatives and Protocols 13 tbl.1 (2009).

[398] Fischman & Adamcik, supra note 256, at 11.

[399] Matthew Birnbaum et al., supra note 319, at 2.

[400] Species that migrate over shorter distances without crossing jurisdictional boundaries, and that encounter few or no anthropogenic obstacles such as roads along their migratory paths, are most likely to be well protected by existing wildlife management strategies in part because they are not greatly different from resident species in their needs.

[401] The Gap Analysis Program, GAP Home, http://www.nbii.gov/portal/server.pt/
community/gap_home/1482 (last visited Apr. 10, 2011); see J. Michael Scott et al., Gap Analysis: A Geographic Approach to Protection of Biological Diversity, Wildlife Monographs, Jan. 1993, at 3, 7–9 (describing the GAP analysis program).

[402] Press Release, Ass’n of Fish & Wildlife Agencies, Teaming with Wildlife Week–September 5–11, 2010 (Sept. 5, 2010), available at http://www.fishwildlife.org/index.php?section=afwa
_press_releases&prrid=109 (quote from Ron Regan, executive director of the Association of Fish and Wildlife Agencies, the umbrella organization for state and federal wildlife agencies: “The program has been an important source of funds to help keep America’s common species common and to conserve wildlife before they become too rare and costly to protect them.”).

[403] John Terborgh, Where Have All the Birds Gone? 3–6 (1989).

[404] Coastal Zone Management Act of 1972, 16 U.S.C. §§ 1451–1466 (2006).

[405] The oversight we suggest here is analogous to the “cooperation model” espoused by Professor Ruhl: “The essence of the Cooperation model is the expression of strong federal goals and policies in the context of a flexible partnership between federal, state, and local interests in seeing to it that the federal policies are implemented in the form of substantive legal requirements.” Ruhl, supra note 124, at 643. “[T]he Cooperation model poses the greatest promise of achieving the goals of a unified federal biodiversity conservation program for nonfederal lands.” Id. at 661.

[406] See, e.g., Cryan, supra note 128, at 360–61 (discussing the significant effects of wind turbines on migratory bat populations and the lack of consistent regulatory protections).

[407] See Steven L. Yaffee, Collaborative Strategies for Managing Animal Migrations: Insights from the History of Ecosystem-Based Management, 41 Envtl. L. 655, 676–78 (2011) (further exploring ways of motivating cooperative conservation between governmental and private entities).

[408] See Jeffrey B. Hyman, Andrea Need & W. William Weeks, Statutory Reform to Protect Migrations as Phenomena of Abundance, 41 Envtl. L. 407, 435–36 (2011) (providing an alternative approach to this problem by addressing the question of improving conservation migration from the perspective of law reform).

[409] See, e.g., Climate Adaptation Knowledge Exch., CAKE: Climate Adaptation Knowledge Exchange, http://www.cakex.org/ (last visited Apr. 10, 2011); Climate Adaptation Case Studies, CASES Database and Adaptation Library, http://cses.washington.edu/cig/cases (last visited Apr. 10, 2011) (providing examples of websites designed to foster information-sharing).

[410] U.S. Fish & Wildlife Serv., Science Excellence, http://www.fws.gov/science/
publicationsys.html
(last visited Apr. 13, 2011) (discussing that in an effort to reduce this problem, FWS recently began publication of the new Journal of Fish and Wildlife Management, which deliberately seeks to provide an outlet for papers that would not pass traditional peer review not because they lack rigor, but because “the topics or presentations are not sufficiently broad to appeal to journal audiences”).

[411] W. Governor’s Wildlife Council, Initiative on Wildlife Corridors and Crucial Habitat, http://www.westgov.org/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=123&Itemid=68 (last visited Apr. 10, 2011).

[412] Oberhauser et al., supra note 397, at 35.

Statutory Reform to Protect Migrations as Phenomena of Abundance

Statutory Reform to Protect Migrations as Phenomena of Abundance

By

Jeffrey B. Hyman,* Andrea Need** & W. William Weeks***

Animal migrations capture the human mind and heart like few other natural phenomena. Migrations provide ecological, psychological (e.g., aesthetic), cultural, and economic benefits. Increasingly, though, migrations are being recognized as threatened phenomena—that is, spectacular aspects of the life history of animal species often involving large numbers of individuals, but which are threatened with impoverishment or demise, even though the species per se may not be in peril. Migration phenomena are themselves worthy of protection, as a category of biodiversity. Yet, conserving migratory populations and their migrations is particularly problematic. Migratory animals are especially vulnerable to a variety of threats because they come into contact with multiple ecosystems and jurisdictions, tend to congregate in large numbers in discrete and often vulnerable areas, and require considerable fuel for their long-distance journeys. In addition, migration is essentially a phenomenon of abundance—the benefits and values of migrations depend on an abundance of animals taking part—and conserving species’ populations before they become rare has always been an uphill battle. This Article presents an idea for a new federal law that reflects the perspective that conserving migratory behaviors and processes as phenomena of value in and of themselves, and not only of value for species persistence, can provide unique and important benefits. Current conservation laws generally serve the species-based conservation perspective and, with a few exceptions, are not designed or implemented to protect benefits of abundant animal migrations. The existing fragmented framework of laws and authorities also is insufficient to protect most migratory populations against a diversity of threats across multiple jurisdictions and broad geographic scales. Our proposed federal law would offer a unified framework, require abundance targets, and authorize a comprehensive set of legal tools, including both carrots and sticks, for conserving a limited set of nationally or regionally “significant” migrations. Such a law would likely improve the current situation for the nation’s most notable migratory populations and generally promote the conservation of all migrations as phenomena of abundance.

I. Introduction

It’s a wonderful thing that the American bison (Bison bison) managed, narrowly, to avoid extinction. We can see bison at Yellowstone, and in zoos, and that is good. We don’t even have to go very far if we want to buy and eat bison meat. But the American bison, as it historically existed in the United States, is in fact gone. It no longer gathers in herds of thousands or moves across hundreds of miles of unbroken prairie, and it no longer shapes the ecological system that sustained it.[1] We have preserved the species, but we can only respond with wonder—we are indeed willing to do no more than wonder—at what the migration must have been.

Even so, there are other migrations that have thus far survived all of the development, borders, barriers, harvest, and habitat alterations we have thrown in their way. It may be that we are willing to make the necessary commitments so that those migrations might make our children, and ourselves, marvel. It may be that we are willing to do more than merely see that the species survives. It is worth hoping that we are willing to conserve the extraordinary natural spectacle, the ecological force, and the natural wonder of some species in full natural context: we may be willing to conserve migrations themselves, and in this article, we hope to enrich the discussion that has begun on that proposition.

We define migration simply as the cyclical, predictable, round-trip movement of the entire population, or any geographically separate part of the population of any species or subspecies of animals.[2] Ranging, dispersal, and certainly foraging are not “migration” for purposes of our discussion.[3] This broad and simplistic definition of migration suits our purpose in this article, which is to focus on the conservation of behaviors and processes related to the migration cycle. Such behaviors and processes may be part of the movement phase—active movement as well as stopover activities—or the stationary phase—e.g., breeding, nesting, and overwintering—of the migration cycle. In fact, we will frequently use the terms “migration” and “migration phenomena” as shorthand for all of the migration-related behaviors and processes exhibited by a particular population.

Our conceptual perspective in this article is that migration-related behaviors and processes are themselves phenomena worthy of protection, as a category of biodiversity. Lincoln Brower has employed the concept of an “endangered phenomenon” as an alternative to the predominant conservation paradigm, which focuses on diminishing species diversity, minimum viable populations, and the demise of habitats and populations that leads species to extinction.[4] Brower defined an endangered phenomenon as “a spectacular aspect of the life history of an animal or plant species involving large numbers of individuals that are threatened with impoverishment or demise; the species per se need not be in peril; rather, the phenomenon it exhibits is at stake,” and he referred to the migration of the monarch butterfly as an example of such an endangered phenomenon.[5] Similarly, the monarch’s winter roosts in Mexico and California were designated as threatened phenomena by the International Union for Conservation of Nature (IUCN) in 1983, reflecting the recognition that a migratory phenomenon can be imperiled even though the species as a whole is not in danger of extinction.[6] Professor David Wilcove’s writings on migrations as “phenomena of abundance,”[7] as well as Professors Fischman and Hyman’s article on the legal components of migration protection, also rely on this theme of biological phenomena worthy of protection.[8] Most recently, David Quammen wrote about animal migration as awe inspiring and “a phenomenon far grander and more patterned than animal movement.”[9] This perspective of migration as a “phenomenon” shines a spotlight on notable behaviors and processes, such as mass movements of animals, movements through ancient pathways, and mass aggregations at wintering, breeding, and stopover sites. Protecting such life-history phenomena adds to the biodiversity conservation agenda.[10]

Migration phenomena can provide ecological, psychological (e.g., aesthetic), cultural, and economic benefits.[11] Ecological benefits include seed dispersal, nutrient transport, and pollination.[12] In some instances, as was true in the case of the bison, migration shapes the landscape and thus, in some respects, the ecology of the areas in which it occurs. Additionally, the opportunity to observe large numbers of animals congregating or moving together has important cultural and psychological value to humans; images of salmon leaping over waterfalls on their way upriver, enormous “Vs” of Sandhill cranes (Grus canadensis) flying south in the fall, and whale pods plying coastal waters, are iconic. Imagine seeing, as some did as late as 1871 in southern Kansas, a herd of bison the main body of which was estimated to be fifty miles deep and twenty-five miles wide.[13] Some migrations in our country are part of our heritage not unlike properties that are protected by the National Historic Preservation Act.[14] Migrations and migratory species also provide economic benefits including harvest and sales of harvesting equipment, nature oriented tourism and recreation, and travel to the locations in which such activities can be pursued.[15] With the loss of migration phenomena comes the loss of values and benefits associated with those phenomena, even if the species itself is not in peril.

The migration-as-phenomenon perspective does not supplant the traditional paradigm of species-based conservation, and the two perspectives are complementary. Ensuring the existence of a species is essential for protecting the migration-related behaviors and processes that constitute the phenomena proclaimed by Brower, Wilcove, and Quammen as worthy of protection. On the flip side, for obligate migrants, ensuring the existence of the migration is essential for protecting the species.[16] In particular, protecting migrations while the species’ populations are still relatively abundant, and the ecological, psychological, cultural, and economic benefits of migration are still forthcoming, is a proactive approach that can keep species from reaching the dire straits that requires emergency room intervention.

Furthermore, conserving any phase of a species’s migration cycle as a phenomenon requires protecting the animals during all phases of the cycle—at the breeding grounds, at locations inhabited and used during other stationary phases, during movement, and at stopovers. For example, identifying and protecting the breeding and wintering grounds of migratory birds is clearly important to ensuring population persistence.[17] Yet migratory birds spend approximately 25%–33% of their annual cycle in transit between breeding and wintering areas, and survival challenges encountered on these journeys, including mortality at stopover sites, may be responsible for a majority of annual adult mortality in land birds.[18] In short, all phases of the migration cycle must be maintained to ensure that any one phase of the cycle persists.

Yet the traditional species-based perspective of conservation, with its focus on declines in abundance, rarity, reactive conservation actions, and minimum viable populations, is limited and will usually produce different priorities for conservation and scientific research than the migration-as-phenomenon perspective.[19] The species-based perspective focuses our attention first and foremost on the persistence of the species. The United States appears to have accepted the notion that the loss of species as compositional elements of biodiversity is a serious problem.[20] The concept of extinction is readily grasped. Certainly, as mentioned above, for those populations that must migrate to survive, conserving migratory behavior and avoiding population extinction are two sides of the same coin. A minimalist approach would seek merely to maintain the smallest number of individuals necessary to accomplish the migratory behavior and avoid extinction—the minimum viable migration or population. But the only benefits of migration maintained by this strategy, other than the survival of the species, are whatever benefits accrue from that minimum number of animals. The benefits of minimal populations may not include many of the ecological, psychological, cultural, and economic benefits associated with migration phenomena, which typically require higher abundances than minimum viable populations. This is why we speak of migration as a “phenomenon of abundance.”[21] Thus, restoring and maintaining relatively high abundances—e.g., historic levels or carrying capacity—are conservation and research priorities for the migration-as-phenomenon perspective, but are not necessarily priorities for the species-based conservation perspective.

This Article presents an idea for a new federal law that reflects the perspective that conservation of migratory behaviors and processes as phenomena of value in and of themselves, and not only of value for species persistence, can provide unique and important benefits. Such a perspective would fill a gap in the existing scheme of conservation laws. Existing conservation policy generally serves the species-based conservation perspective and, with the notable exception of laws targeting North American waterfowl and marine mammals, is not designed and implemented to effectively protect the benefits and values of abundant animal migrations. The Endangered Species Act (ESA),[22] the Migratory Bird Treaty Act (MBTA),[23] and the 1979 Convention on the Conservation of Migratory Species of Wild Animals (Bonn Convention),[24] while offering protections for species that migrate, are not fundamentally concerned with protecting the functional benefits and values derived from the process of migration. Rather, these laws are generally concerned with protecting the benefits that flow from the existence of the species populations, and deal with cross-boundary movements because dealing with the movements is necessary for the species conservation purpose.[25] If migratory populations could be better conserved by reducing or eliminating the migratory behavior, the purposes of these laws, which generally are to prevent scarcity and extinction, would still be served.

Our proposed federal law to protect migrations as phenomena of abundance would authorize a comprehensive set of legal tools, including both carrots and sticks, applied to a limited set of nationally or regionally “significant” or “important” migrations. To be sure, such a comprehensive approach is a worthy long-term goal for all migratory populations—including, for example, populations of songbirds,[26] tree bats,[27] turtles,[28] fishes,[29] and insects[30]—regardless of their national or regional “significance.” Migratory animals are especially vulnerable to a variety of threats because they are exposed to multiple ecosystems and jurisdictions, tend to congregate in large numbers in discrete and often vulnerable areas, and require a large amount of fuel for their long-distance movements.[31] In terms of the benefits of migration mentioned above, many of the migratory populations that currently may lack national or regional significance serve important ecological roles at local geographic scales and are highly valued by one or another subset of the public for scientific or other reasons. By focusing on a limited set of nationally and regionally significant migrations, however, we stand a reasonable chance of having the law introduced into Congress.[32] If such a law were enacted, we could use it to learn about the costs and benefits likely to result from applying various mixtures of legal approaches to migration protection in general.[33]

Part II argues that a new and comprehensive federal law to protect nationally or regionally significant migrations as phenomena of abundance is needed. The existing fragmented framework of laws and authorities is insufficient to protect most migratory populations against a diversity of threats across multiple jurisdictions and broad geographic scales. Part II.A sets out three migration stories—the rufa subspecies of the American Red Knot (Calidris canutus), the Grand Teton population of the pronghorn antelope (Antilocapra americana), and the eastern North American population of the monarch butterfly (Danaus plexippus)—that will be used to explore and illustrate our ideas for law reform geared toward protecting migrations. Part II.B examines why a migration law should authorize and apply a comprehensive set of legal approaches. Part II.C summarizes the shortcomings of existing conservation laws for protecting migrations as phenomena of abundance. In Part II.D, we examine how a migration protection law might have advanced the conservation of the case-study populations over what has occurred to date, and how it might contribute to their conservation in the future. Finally, in Part II.E, we point out, as a caveat, that some migratory populations would not likely benefit from a new law at this time.

Part III then outlines the central elements of our proposal for a federal migration protection law. We first consider the purposes of such a law in Part III.A, and in Part III.B we suggest alternative methods for nominating and listing “nationally or regionally significant” migrations. We also suggest criteria for selecting such migrations. Part III.C reviews the legal approaches most useful for our proposed law as a function of the health of the listed migration. Then, in Part III.D, we briefly outline some first steps toward conserving the many migrations not likely to be deemed “significant” and thus not covered by the comprehensive approach applied to “significant” migrations.

II. The Need for Law Reform to Protect Migrations as
Phenomena of Abundance

Several United States statutes and international agreements have been set in place to conserve species that migrate. For example, statutes include the MBTA and Marine Mammal Protection Act (MMPA),[34] mentioned above, as well as the Migratory Bird Conservation Act,[35] Neotropical Migratory Bird Conservation Act,[36] Marine Turtle Conservation Act,[37] and North Pacific Anadromous Stocks Act.[38] International agreements include the Inter-American Convention for the Protection and Conservation of Sea Turtles,[39] the bilateral Migratory Bird Treaties,[40] and the Convention on the Conservation and Management of Highly Migratory Fish Stocks in the Western and Central Pacific Ocean.[41] These statutes and agreements as well as others have spawned multiple programs and initiatives for migratory species, such as the Migratory Bird Program,[42] North American Waterfowl Management Plan,[43] United States Shorebird Conservation Plan,[44] North American Waterbird Conservation Plan,[45] Partners in Flight,[46] the North American Bird Conservation Initiative,[47] Western Hemisphere Shorebird Reserve Network,[48] Western Hemisphere Migratory Species Initiative,[49] and Wildlife Without Borders.[50]

Several of these laws and management initiatives have at least the potential to protect some migratory populations at relatively high abundances. In particular, an objective of the MMPA is to restore and maintain marine mammals at “optimum sustainable” levels.[51] Unlike the MMPA, the MBTA does not specify any objective for population abundance, but neither does it contain on its face any limit on abundance, so the MBTA could be used to maintain migratory bird populations at historic abundances if that target were politically and ecologically feasible.[52]

Yet, as we point out in this Part, even these laws are inadequate as templates for the kind of law that is needed to conserve migratory populations and the benefits derived from their migrations. Although these laws may address the need to maintain abundances above minimum viable levels, they attempt to achieve the desired results by relying primarily on limited and not very flexible legal approaches. In this Part we examine the need for a new migration protection law that employs a range of legal approaches to address the diversity of threats that migratory populations face. To assist in that task, we reflect upon the stories of three migratory populations that are nationally well known.

A. Three Case Studies of Migration

Throughout this Part we use three case studies to explain and justify the need for law reform to protect migration phenomena: the rufa subspecies of the American Red Knot (Caladris canutus rufa), a shorebird that has been declining due in part to reductions in its food supply, horseshoe crab eggs, at its main stopover site at Delaware Bay; a population of about 200 pronghorn antelope (Antilocapra americana) that summers in Grand Teton National Park and which faces obstacles along its ancient 170-mile migratory corridor between the Tetons and its winter range in the Upper Green River basin in western Wyoming; and the eastern North American population of 100–500 million monarch butterflies (Danaus plexippus), which overwinter in dense clusters on the boughs and trunks of fir trees at a handful of high-elevation sites in a small area of central Mexico. All three populations are currently recipients of varied conservation efforts. The primary threat for the Red Knot, the pronghorn, and the monarch populations occur during the stopover, movement, and overwintering stage, respectively, but impacts at other stages of the migration cycle also threaten these migratory populations.

1. Red Knot

The accounts of the rufa Red Knot frequently begin with a statement of wonder at the 30,000-kilometer annual migration, “one of the longest-distance migrations in the animal kingdom.”[53] Red Knots, which are “jump migrants,” fly thousands of kilometers without stopping: a large part of the population breeds in the Canadian Arctic and winters in South America.[54] Although Red Knots spread across a large area of the Arctic during the breeding season, for the rest of the year they occur mainly in large flocks at a limited number of key coastal sites.[55] The Delaware Bay area (in Delaware and New Jersey) is the final known spring migration stopover on the journey north.[56] The Red Knots concentrate in the Delaware Bay area from the middle of May to early June, corresponding to the spawning season of horseshoe crabs (Limulus polyphemus).[57] The Knots feed on horseshoe crab eggs, rebuilding energy reserves needed to complete the migration to the Arctic and arrive on the breeding grounds in good condition.[58]

The primary threat to the Red Knot is destruction and modification of its habitat, particularly the reduction in food supply resulting from declines in horseshoe crab populations along the Atlantic coast.[59] Horseshoe crabs are harvested primarily for use as bait and secondarily to support the biomedical industry.[60] Commercial harvest of horseshoe crabs increased substantially in the 1990s.[61] Various harvest restrictions imposed during this decade may have stabilized the decline in horseshoe crab abundance,[62] but egg abundance continues to be suppressed,[63] and scientists do not know whether horseshoe crab populations will rebuild or how long a lag time there may be before an increase in availability of eggs.

Other identified threats to the Red Knot at Delaware Bay include habitat destruction due to beach erosion and shoreline projects that are affecting areas used by migrating Knots for foraging; human disturbance, which disrupts the birds’ feeding; and competition with other species for limited food resources.[64] Also, the concentration of Red Knots in Delaware Bay and at a limited number of overwintering areas makes the species vulnerable to potential large-scale events such as oil spills or severe weather. In response to a petition to list the Red Knot under the ESA, the United States Fish and Wildlife Service (FWS), in 2006, found listing the rufa Red Knot was “warranted but precluded by other, higher priority activities.”[65]

2. Pronghorn Antelope

Prior to the 1850s, more than a million pronghorn lived in Wyoming and around fifty million existed in the western United States.[66] By 1900, hunting had nearly driven the pronghorn to extinction, and Wyoming, in 1909, enacted legislation to temporarily ban hunting of pronghorn.[67] Today there are approximately 450,000 pronghorn in Wyoming, many of which migrate.[68] None, however, migrate as far as the few hundred pronghorn that make the roughly 170-mile journey from wintering grounds in the Upper Green River Basin in western Wyoming along the single remaining route to summer habitat in Grand Teton National Park.[69] Because the deep snow in the Tetons during winter forces the pronghorn to leave, this migration prevents local extirpation of pronghorn in the park.[70]

Navigation of the migration corridor by the Grand Teton pronghorn necessitates passage through at least four geographical bottlenecks, two of which are as narrow as about 328 feet.[71] These restricted areas of the migratory route are highly vulnerable to disturbance compared with areas in which animal movements are not so restricted. Of the bottlenecks, the southernmost bottleneck at Trappers Point Historical Monument is considered the most critical from the standpoint of conservation.[72] Historically, Trappers Point was 5250 feet (1.6 km) wide, bounded by rivers, but housing developments and roadways have reduced the effective width—the area available for travel—of this bottleneck by about fifty percent.[73] Obstacles to pronghorn migration in the Green River Basin wintering grounds and along the migratory route include fences that block pronghorn movements and fatally ensnare pronghorns that attempt to pass; highways, with associated road kill and fences; and land development, such as housing subdivisions and oil and gas wells and infrastructure, with attendant human disturbance, as well as direct loss of habitat.[74]

3. Monarch Butterfly

The North American monarch butterfly engages in long-distance, multi-generational round-trip migrations. Current monarch research describes two not entirely distinct populations of butterflies: one that breeds east of the Rocky Mountains and overwinters in the Sierra Madre Mountains in central Mexico, and a smaller population that breeds west of the Rockies and overwinters on the California coast.[75] The eastern population overwinters from October to March in high elevation fir and pine forests in a dozen or so colonies within a relatively small area in central Mexico.[76] The fir-pine forest provides an ideal microclimate for overwintering—sufficiently cool to maintain the insects in a state of slowed metabolism and sufficiently warm to avoid freezing.[77]

During March, the eastern overwintering monarchs mate and begin the journey northward out of Mexico.[78] These monarchs lay their eggs in northern Mexico and the southern United States, and the resulting first generation hatches out as larvae.[79] This first generation, after metamorphosis, migrates further northward and produces a second generation of monarch larvae.[80] This second generation of monarchs then transforms into adults, and along with survivors of the first generation migrates even further northward, fanning out across the monarch’s eastern geographic range as they go.[81] Thus, each successive new generation, along with the relatively few survivors from previous generations, reaches further and further northward—like a relay race, each generation passes the baton to the next generation. It takes three to four successive generations during the year to complete the journey northward to the Midwest and northern United States and southern Canada.[82] The final generation of the year then funnels from its northern breeding range back southward, through Texas, to the forests in central Mexico to overwinter, starting the migration cycle again.[83] The monarchs that travel south to the overwintering sites thus are descendants three or more generations removed from the migrants that initially migrated north from Mexico.

Each successive generation of monarch adults lays its eggs exclusively on milkweed (Asclepias syriaca), and the monarch caterpillars that hatch feed on those milkweeds.[84] Nectar-producing plants also are critical to monarch survival and migration. During the northward migration from Mexico, and before and during the southward migration back to Mexico, adult monarchs feed on a variety of nectar-bearing flowers.[85] Nectar corridors—migratory routes that pollinators follow in order to take advantage of sequential blooming and senescence of flowering plants along a geographic gradient—provide stopover sites for refueling during the spring and fall migrations.[86] The locations of monarch migration pathways and stopover habitats are not well understood and are just beginning to be identified.

The eastern monarchs face multiple threats. Although key overwintering sites in Mexico are included in a designated biosphere reserve and covered by a ban on logging, deforestation of the sites continues and they are far from secure.[87] Climate change may increase rainfall or modify winter temperatures in the fir-pine forests, changing the microclimate and making the existing overwintering sites unsuitable for the monarchs.[88] The loss of milkweeds in the United States and Canada due to agricultural practices, development, and intentional eradication—some milkweed species are considered noxious because they can be poisonous to livestock[89]—is a direct threat, for milkweeds are necessary for reproduction. Agricultural insecticides also are a direct threat to monarch survival.[90] Moreover, agricultural practices and development reduce available nectar resources and have deleterious effects on monarchs’ ability to accumulate energy for migration and overwinter survival.[91]

B. Why Is a Comprehensive Legal Approach Needed?

Existing federal conservation laws employ one or more of five legal approaches discussed by Professor Vicky Meretsky et al.: 1) providing funding and assistance for conservation projects and fostering coordination and information generation and exchange, 2) providing incentives for state-level conservation planning, 3) acquiring, designating, and managing habitat, 4) controlling the “take” of species’ individuals through prohibitions and harvest restrictions, and 5) establishing and implementing standards and management practices to avoid harm to species’ individuals and populations.[92] Each of these approaches by itself has strengths and limitations.[93] It seems to us that a comprehensive strategy authorizing a mixture of these five legal approaches is needed to effectively protect migrations as phenomena of abundance, for four reasons.

First, a mix of legal approaches can be useful when targeted populations differ dramatically in abundance. Depending on the species, the level of threat, and the migration benefits sought to be maintained, the abundance of the protected migratory population may be somewhere between carrying capacity—or possibly historical—levels and minimum viable levels. Applying the same legal approach to every migratory population regardless of its current or desirable abundance may well be both inefficient and ineffective. Regulations such as take prohibitions may be most politically acceptable, and most needed, for populations that are in decline or well below their target abundances. Purely voluntary or incentive-based programs, on the other hand, may be sufficient to sustain those few populations already averaging near their target abundances.

Second, a mix of legal approaches can be useful for conserving populations that cross multiple jurisdictions and use an assortment of resource types. Migrating animals may travel between nations, between states, and between public and private lands. Migrating animals also may have contact with multiple agency jurisdictions with potentially conflicting mandates, either by crossing physically between, say, land and ocean or forest and agriculture, or by feeding on animals or plants that are under a different agency jurisdiction than the migrants. Any given legal approach is not likely to work equally well in each of these different jurisdictional settings. For instance, the will and ability of the federal government to control land uses on private land and in foreign countries is quite limited, and a funding or incentivized planning approach is likely to dominate in those situations. Conversely, federal control is most acceptable on public lands such as wildlife refuges, where acquisition and land management mandates are fitting. Also, each federal agency has different constraints related to its legal mandate and authority, history, and the types of resources managed, and legal approaches must be harmonized with these constraints. Thus, for example, protecting the Red Knot’s food supply of horseshoe crab eggs—under joint National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) and state jurisdiction[94]—primarily requires take restrictions and interstate coordination, whereas protecting the birds’ foraging habitat—under FWS and state jurisdiction[95]—­­­­­­primarily requires project funding, take prohibitions, and habitat acquisition.

Third, a mix of legal approaches can be useful when the migratory population faces a diversity of threats. The application of technical standards and best management practices would be essential for correcting barriers to migratory movement, such as those caused by roads, wind turbines, towers, buildings, oil drilling infrastructure, and dams. Land acquisition and designation, in addition to best management practices, are most useful for ameliorating habitat fragmentation. Take prohibitions and restrictions are an appropriate approach for regulating harvest.

Fourth, there are political reasons for combining regulatory and incentive-based approaches. Professor Steven Yaffee has argued that incentive-based cooperative approaches frequently do not succeed without a regulatory motivation, and thus combining carrots and sticks can be synergistic.[96] Professor John Echeverria has raised a concern that widespread use of voluntary, government-financed approaches to land protection may undermine the viability of regulation when the latter is the most effective approach, making it more difficult to protect the environment, in part by creating entrenched expectations in the public.[97] The same concern might be raised regarding migration protection. Thus, a focus on voluntary and incentive-based approaches to the exclusion of regulation may create a political and legal environment that undermines discovery of solutions to problems. But a focus on regulation is not the answer, either. Professor J.B. Ruhl has opined that a focus on coercive regulatory approaches to biodiversity conservation is no longer politically viable.[98] These analyses taken together suggest that a sensible strategy from a political and pragmatic perspective is to authorize a range of legal approaches for protecting migrations and to tailor their application for different circumstances.

C. Shortcomings of Existing Federal Laws for Protecting Migrations

Existing federal conservation laws have shortcomings that dilute their potential to protect a set of migrations as phenomena of abundance. Foremost, many of these laws are taxon-specific, narrowly focused on charismatic taxa such as endangered sea turtles, marine mammals, and neotropical migratory birds. Adapting the Marine Turtle Conservation Act or the MMPA to protect migratory populations outside of those taxa would not be an effective strategy. The enactment and implementation of these taxon-specific laws reflect and are supported by the scientific, historical, legal, and political context of each targeted taxon. Marine mammal individuals, for instance, possess significance that individuals of other species, such as pronghorn and monarchs, do not share, and the MMPA’s moratorium on take reflects that significance.[99] Cetaceans such as whales also do not cross between public and private property during their migrations, unlike pronghorn and monarchs.[100] If our goal is to protect a whale migration, then using the MMPA as a template might be sensible. If instead a migration protection law is enacted to protect an open-ended set of “significant” migrations,[101] the law must reflect the issues that are common to disparate taxa—whales, butterflies, pronghorn, turtles, and fish—rather than the particulars of each taxon. Existing taxon-specific conservation laws generally are inadequate for that purpose.

Conservation laws that are not taxon-specific, such as the ESA, or not narrowly so, such as the MBTA,[102] are inadequate for protecting migrations as phenomena of abundance because they either cannot conserve abundance or cannot address the suite of threats faced by migratory populations. The ESA can address a diversity of threats to populations, but does not conserve abundance because of its focus on scarcity, reactive measures, and minimum viable populations.[103] The MBTA, in contrast, has the potential to conserve abundance, but relies on a singular take prohibition[104] that does not address the wide array of hazards that block migrants’ movements, reduce and fragment suitable habitat, and compromise the timely availability of resources. FWS can leverage its enforcement discretion under the MBTA to address a variety of hazards to migratory birds,[105] but the success of such an approach is unpredictable. Laws that provide only funding or only acquisition have similar limitations.[106]

One possible strategy for conserving a migratory population is to piece together a package of existing statutes and treaties that, although limited in themselves, can authorize an array of approaches to address multiple threats. In this way, a diversity of tools, such as cross-border project funding, interstate planning and coordination, acquisition of key habitats, prohibitions on take, and implementation of standards and practices, may be applied to a particular migratory population. Unfortunately, with the possible exception of migratory waterfowl and ESA listed species, such a diversity of legal approaches cannot be assembled out of existing authorities for most migratory populations.

D. What Would a New Migration Protection Law Offer?

A fair question to ask of any proposal for law reform is how the proposed law would change the status quo under existing laws. For example, would the outcome for a particular migratory population be different from the one we see today if our proposed migration protection law had been enacted, say, twenty years ago? Moreover, would the proposed law add anything in the future if enacted today? We consider these questions for each of our case studies.

For the rufa Red Knot, enactment of a migration protection law twenty years ago would likely have modified the conservation outcome seen today. The FWS recently observed that “the inadequacy of existing regulatory mechanisms” is a threat to the Red Knot’s persistence.[107] A proactive and comprehensive approach to the Red Knot migration may be precisely what has been missing from the efforts to protect the Knots and their Delaware Bay stopover habitat.

Scientists and managers seem to agree that two primary threats to Red Knot persistence are the decline of horseshoe crab egg densities below levels sufficient to meet shorebird needs in Delaware Bay, and the disturbance of the birds’ habitat by human activities.[108] The harvest of horseshoe crabs along the northeast coast of the United States, and the associated reduced availability of their eggs as food for migrating shorebirds, was identified as a serious threat by the mid-1990s.[109] The population of horseshoe crabs in Delaware Bay fell by about 85% between 1990 and 1998, and while some restrictions were imposed, the intensive harvest of horseshoe crabs continued.[110] The decline in the Red Knot population was certainly identified by the late 1990s.[111] Yet the efforts to put both the Red Knot and horseshoe crabs on an upward trajectory have been unsuccessful to date, and the shortcomings of existing legal mechanisms are at least partly responsible.[112]

At the federal level, rufa Red Knot is currently not listed under the ESA and so does not benefit from take prohibitions or a recovery plan. The MBTA protects the Red Knot against direct take of birds, nests, and eggs, but other than for nesting sites, which are not located in the United States, the MBTA provides no mandate, and arguably no authority, for protection of habitat or food resources. The Delaware Bay is a Western Hemisphere Shorebird Reserve Network site, but this designation does not mandate any conservation actions and provides no legal authority to protect the Red Knots or their food resources.[113] The horseshoe crabs are under the legal jurisdiction of the Atlantic States Marine Fisheries Commission (ASMFC), which is overseen by the NOAA Fisheries Service.[114] Although ASMFC has authority to set quotas for adoption by the states, without an ESA mandate to protect the food resources of the Red Knot, the ASMFC may weigh other demands for the horseshoe crab—for bait, the biomedical industry, and as a food source for the federally listed loggerhead turtle (Caretta caretta)—as higher priorities.

At the state level, a lack of consistency and coordination across states in management efforts to protect the Red Knots at Delaware Bay has hampered conservation. For example, in the early and mid-1990s, New Jersey, Delaware, and Maryland instituted their own harvest restrictions on horseshoe crabs, but did so without coordinating with the other states.[115] This lack of uniformity allowed horseshoe crab fishermen to exploit differences in the restrictions among states, until landings of the crab harvests finally were uniformly regulated coast-wide under an umbrella management plan.[116]

The incrementally increasing protections for both the horseshoe crab and Red Knot populations may yet halt and reverse their declines; it is too soon to tell. A variety of efforts to protect Red Knots have been cobbled together, and as the rufa Red Knot has declined toward an ESA listing, motivation to reverse the decline has increased.[117] The problem with Red Knot conservation is not a simple lack of attention; rather, the problem is better characterized as a lack of proactive conservation objectives, insufficient coordination of conservation efforts once population declines started, a lack of clear federal authority for FWS to implement necessary conservation actions, and a lack of information, particularly about the horseshoe crab fishery. The regulatory response to the Red Knot’s troubles has thus been piecemeal, reactionary, and tentative. Fragmented jurisdiction—among the Atlantic coast states, between the federal government and the states, and between the federal agencies—over the threats to the Red Knot’s habitat and to its primary food supply likely has slowed implementation of effective protections for the birds. The lack of information and uncertainties about the horseshoe crab fishery likely contributed to the tentative and incremental harvest restrictions implemented by the states.[118] And without an ESA listing or some other law to provide regulatory motivation, Red Knot conservation has been slow to rise to a priority position relative to competing demands.

A comprehensive migration protection law could have provided the impetus to raise the priority of Red Knot conservation before, or at least during, the early stages of decline. Such a law could have made a range of legal approaches proactively available to benefit both the Red Knots and horseshoe crabs, including funding for research, federal incentives for uniform state habitat protections, federal habitat designation and acquisition, take prohibitions for vulnerable and important shore areas, and development of standards and best management practices for shoreline projects and coastal development. The law also could have set high-priority objectives with regard to the horseshoe crab as an important food source of the Red Knot or even as a significant migration in itself. Moreover, the law could have required targets for Red Knot abundance, so that FWS would have had a clear understanding of the desired thresholds.

The Grand Teton pronghorn also would likely have benefited had a migration protection law existed for the past several decades. In addition, such a law, if enacted today, might improve the current situation. The pronghorn’s migration is critically limited by movement barriers: fences, subdivision development, and natural gas wells and infrastructure.[119] A large proportion of these threats occur on both government and private lands.[120] To date, any actions intended to relieve the threat posed by these barriers have been voluntary.[121]

We agree with David Cherney that policy solutions that are technically elegant but politically untenable will ultimately be unsuccessful in practice;[122] that there have been some qualified successes for pronghorn conservation recently on national forest land—designation of a pronghorn migration corridor—and private lands—conversion of existing fencing to wildlife-friendly fences;[123] and that early attempts to impose a national migration corridor on the region likely ignored contextual political and social factors necessary for long-term conservation success.[124] We would not agree, however, with a suggestion that lawmaking and scientific management inherently ignores contextual political and social factors. Indeed, the ability to adaptively tailor a response to conservation threats using an array of legal approaches is the primary strength of the migration protection law we propose in this article. A comprehensive law need not stand in contrast to bottom-up collaboration. Rather, a law that authorizes a variety of legal approaches—for example, the five legal approaches discussed above—can support bottom-up actions as part of a multi-pronged strategy.

As Cherney points out, the conservation actions to date are incomplete. The majority of obstacles to the pronghorn migration do not occur within the newly designated national forest corridor,[125] and nothing prevents either further land development or newly erected non-wildlife-friendly fencing on private lands.[126] Designating the entire migratory corridor as a “protected” area would be unlikely to have much impact in itself; the hard work is instituting politically acceptable actions that stand up to competing demands within such a delineated corridor.[127] A federal migration law that funds and leverages private conservation actions, authorizes land acquisition of corridor areas and winter range, directs the land management agencies to protect the migration, and provides incentives for state and local implementation of standards and practices for fencing, roads, and development—and that coordinates these approaches—might have advanced the conservation of the Grand Teton pronghorn faster than the voluntary, “bottom-up” process that has dominated thus far. As Professor Steven Yaffee points out, regulations that establish management bottom lines are often critical to the success of cooperative conservation efforts between governmental and private entities by providing the motivation to develop solutions.[128] We know how to reduce the barriers to pronghorn movement.[129] A new law that respects the utility of multiple and contextual solutions in the complex political landscape, while also providing federal coordination, motivation, and minimum standards for such solutions, could help move pronghorn conservation forward from where it is today.

Monarchs also would likely benefit if the comprehensive law proposed here were enacted today. Most efforts to conserve monarchs have been directed toward attempting to protect their overwintering habitat in Mexico, and as discussed above those attempts have achieved mixed success. Reliance on habitat reserves as a flagship conservation strategy is risky in a time of climate change. Moreover, there is a growing recognition that protection of the overwintering sites is necessary but not sufficient to maintain the monarch migration phenomenon as we now know it. This phenomenon may not persist unless the threats to monarch host plants (milkweeds), fuel sources (in nectar corridors especially), and breeding and stopover habitats—threats that occur largely on United States soil—are reduced.

A large proportion of the United States’ role in monarch conservation consists of efforts by universities, colleges, and private organizations, some with financial and technical assistance from the Department of Agriculture’s Natural Resources Conservation Service.[130] The governments of Canada, Mexico, and the United States also are active in monarch conservation, mostly in a supportive and planning role. The FWS, through its Wildlife Without Borders—Mexico Program, has sponsored and funded initiatives such as reforestation projects at overwintering sites, education projects, and research conferences.[131] Between 1995 and 2006, FWS awarded almost $800,000 in grants for monarch projects—about ninety-four percent of the funds were for projects to develop the capacity of the local communities of the Monarch Butterfly Biosphere Reserve to sustainably manage their natural resources.[132] The Commission for Environmental Cooperation, a treaty organization between the United States, Canada, and Mexico,[133] published the North American Monarch Conservation Plan (Plan) in 2008, which summarizes the decline of monarchs and establishes a plan for their conservation.[134] Specifically, the Plan sets forth prioritized actions to address deforestation on overwintering habitat; threats of habitat loss and degradation in the flyway; threats of loss, fragmentation, and modification of breeding habitat; sustainable livelihoods for local populations in Mexico; and education, outreach, research, and monitoring.[135] These actions call for, among other things, threat assessment, technical assistance, land acquisition, and the development of conservation plans, guidelines, and recommended management practices. An additional governmental player in monarch conservation is the Trilateral Committee for Wildlife and Ecosystem Conservation and Management (Trilateral Committee), established in 1996 and headed by the directors of the Canadian Wildlife Service, FWS, and the Ministry of Environment and Natural Resources of Mexico.[136] Among other actions such as hosting conferences and facilitating coordination, the Trilateral Committee has initiated a project to establish a network of sister protected areas throughout North America.[137] In the United States, the sister areas are national parks and national wildlife refuges.[138]

The monarch clearly is a high profile species that has garnered much attention from the conservation community. Monarch conservation is on the agenda of a multitude of governmental and nongovernmental players, and this multiplicity can be a strength so long as conservation efforts are adequately coordinated and ensured. Yet there is currently no special legal status at the federal level for monarch butterflies or their habitat in the United States.

A federal migration protection law could make several contributions to existing conservation efforts. The law could provide federal incentives for states to include monarch protections in state conservation plans.[139] Incentivized state planning and associated project funding could be an effective approach to monarch protection; the threats to monarchs off of the overwintering sites are geographically widespread and involve a large amount of private land, circumstances that make regulation particularly challenging. In addition, the law could authorize and fund acquisition of key habitats in Texas and other places. Finally, the law could accelerate the development and implementation of uniform land management practices to reverse the loss of overwintering habitat, milkweeds, and nectar-producing plants. The Plan, for example, recommends that parties develop sustainable farming and forestry practices in the overwintering areas of Mexico, develop and disseminate guidelines to conserve and enhance migration habitat and nectar sources, and develop highway and other roadside mowing regimens compatible with monarch breeding.[140] The Plan gives some of these actions indeterminate time frames, and their completion relies on voluntary efforts. Our proposed law could require the agencies, or incentivize the states, to develop these practices and guidelines, and could use federal incentives to encourage the states and private individuals to implement them.

In general, our proposed migration protection law would provide four things that have been missing in past attempts to conserve Red Knots, pronghorn, and monarchs. First, and foremost, the law would send a legislative signal that these migratory populations and their migrations are of high national priority relative to competing demands. This would be an important advance in itself. Second, the law would authorize the lead agencies to bring to bear a diversity of legal approaches to the problems, thus allowing a more effective, efficient, and politically sensitive tailoring of conservation solutions. The alternative is to continue to rely on cobbling together authorities, legal tools, and funding from the fragmented set of existing conservation laws. Third, the law would speed up solutions that may eventually emerge from voluntary, cooperative conservation approaches, but which often do not emerge in time to prevent dramatic declines in population abundance or geographic range. By the time such approaches find their legs and all of the necessary components of conservation solutions, declines in abundance and in geographic range may have advanced to a point where they are difficult or impossible to reverse. Fourth, even where the migration is recognized as significant and important, a migration protection law would clarify the reasons why the phenomenon is worthy of protection.

E. What Migrations Would Benefit Least and Most from Law Reform

In each of our case studies involving migratory animals, the existing legal framework has limited capability to effectively conserve the target populations. We have argued that a new law could help us do better. Although the law we propose would apply only to nationally or regionally significant migrations, the migratory populations likely to be covered would not benefit equally from a new law. Migratory populations that lack existing legal protections would likely receive the largest and most rapid surge of benefit from the passage of a migration protection law. Migratory populations listed under the ESA would likely benefit the least.

The North American monarch, one of our case-study migrations, is not at this time thought to be at any significant risk of extinction, and that status is reflected in the lack of federal law to protect the monarch specifically. Although monarchs face multiple threats, including climate change,[141] there are millions of them still widely distributed across the United States. This is thus the appropriate time to evaluate the benefits of the monarch’s migration phenomena, set abundance targets, and establish state planning incentives and other legal approaches in an effort to ensure that the monarch does not eventually end up like the rufa Red Knot—one step away from an ESA listing.

For the Red Knot, the time window for reaping the main advantages of a migration protection law may be closing as the Knots get closer to an ESA listing, at which time comprehensive regulations will be imposed on the system. A migration protection law, had it been in place twenty years ago, might have prevented the predicament the Red Knot is in today. At this point, a migration protection law will be useful only if the Department of Interior continues to avoid an ESA listing.

In general, once the critical issue is avoiding extinction rather than preserving or restoring abundance, the migratory population would not benefit much from a new conservation law, at least in the short term. For example, we have known that North Atlantic Right Whales (Eubalaena glacialis) have been in trouble for more than eighty years, and the species has been listed as endangered under the ESA since the modern statute’s inception in 1973.[142] Right Whales are the rarest of all large whale species: there are only about 300–400 in the North Atlantic.[143] So few Right Whales now migrate that the migration does not at this time provide any of the benefits of migration.[144] The Right Whale may be a good candidate for a “significant” migration, but unless and until the Right Whale recovers to the point that migration recovers its rightful ecological and aesthetic characteristics, migration will remain a conservation issue for Right Whales only because the animal moves from place to place, thus complicating conservation efforts. Protecting the benefits of the migration phenomenon must take a back seat to saving the species, and a migration protection law would not add substantial protections not already provided by the ESA. Whooping Cranes (Grus americana) also fall into this category of migratory species now on life support.[145] Once a migratory species is viable and extinction risk is reduced below the threshold for ESA listing, or before it becomes so rare, the migration can be the focus of conservation efforts, and a migration conservation law could be helpful.

III. Description of a Proposed Migration Protection Act

This Part outlines some possible structural components of a federal Migration Protection Act (Proposed Act). We suggest “findings and purposes” for the Act, consider the scope and applicability of the law, and then provide some preliminary consideration of the legal approaches to be implemented under the Act. We end with first steps for conserving migrations not covered by the “nationally or regionally significant” category.

A. Findings and Purposes

Our proposed congressional findings reflect the benefits and values of migrations as well as the challenges facing migrations.[146] We expect Congress would find that nationally and regionally significant migrations (NRSMs) are of ecological, cultural, psychological, aesthetic, inspirational, recreational, historic, and economic value to the nation. Such a statement that NRSMs are to receive high priority or coequal status relative to competing demands would itself be a significant advance over the current situation. Congress also would recognize that NRSMs face threats including habitat loss and fragmentation, human-created obstacles, overexploitation, pollution and contamination, and climate change. Additionally, Congress would acknowledge that NRSMs are not well protected by existing environmental and wildlife protection laws because existing laws respond to scarcity, whereas the values and benefits of migration often depend upon abundance. Finally, Congress would find that migrations present special conservation challenges because they often involve long-distance movements that cross large geographic scales and multiple jurisdictional boundaries.

The purposes section of the Act would reflect the key components that make the Act different from other conservation laws: conserving the process of migration as a phenomenon of abundance, maintaining the benefits and values of migrations, and utilizing a range of legal approaches in order to implement a comprehensive protection strategy. The primary purpose would be to identify—initially by Congress, and subsequently through the Departments of Interior and Commerce—and protect those migrations that are NRSMs based on their national or regional ecological, psychological, cultural, or economic significance. Providing financial resources or other incentives for migration conservation initiatives in the United States and internationally is another purpose of the Act.

B. Applicability

One of the key sections of the Act would be the “applicability” section, which would have to specify a procedure for determining what migrations will be designated as NRSMs and thus receive protections under the law. We suggest two processes, not mutually exclusive, for determining coverage under the Act. The first process is for Congress to provide an initial list of NRSMs at the time of enactment. Three possible candidates are the migratory populations discussed as case studies above: the rufa Red Knot, the pronghorn antelope, and the North American monarch.[147]

An advantage to congressional listing is that it supersedes the often contentious step of an agency listing and the associated need to assemble a litigation-proof case that a migration phenomenon meets a particular definition or set of criteria. Congressionally designated migrations—to the extent any survive the battle associated with legislative listing—would not be subject to the type of litigation that has beset FWS under the ESA. If congressional designation were the only path to listing, one might reasonably judge Congress more willing to support migration protection legislation. A serious drawback to congressional listing, however, at least as the sole method of determining NRSMs, is that each new migration to be protected would require an amendment to the Act, which might involve years of congressional debate and rehashing of the value of the Act.

In our judgment, then, the Act ought to establish a second process for identifying and approving migrations to which it is applicable. Two alternatives are possible. The first option is to add NRSMs under the Act via a listing process similar to that used under the ESA.[148] Petitions to list particular migrations would be accepted from the public and also generated within the responsible agencies. If a petition were submitted, the agency would grant or deny it based on criteria in the Act and in associated agency regulations. This path to listing offers the attractive prospect of involving the public in determining the applicability of the Act, but inevitably introduces the prospect of litigation over agency decisions on whether or not to list nominated migrations. A second option is for the Act to commit the listing process to agency discretion by law, and not allow public input into the listing process. While this option would reduce litigation, we consider public input into the listing process as essential to properly evaluate our proposed listing criteria.

We propose that the criteria for approving and listing new NRSMs reflect the benefits of migration discussed above: ecological, psychological, cultural, and economic.[149] The responsible agencies would decide, for migrations nominated internally or through the public petition process, the extent to which these migrations are nationally or regionally significant. This ruling would in turn require an assessment of whether the ecological, psychological, cultural, or economic benefits of the migration are of national or regional significance. Such an assessment will be challenging, no doubt, even in the best of circumstances. If the decision must be justified by quantified scientific or social science data, the decision may be plagued by an overwhelming lack of information. We suggest, therefore, a more qualitative approach to complement any quantitative information that is available. Public input into the listing process would be particularly valuable for assessing psychological and cultural significance, although this assessment would necessarily rely on a variety of scholarly and popular sources. Ecological significance is likely to be highly uncertain for even nationally recognized migrations.[150] Information on economic significance is more likely to be quantified and readily available, at least for broader taxonomic categories, such as birds and mammals. Regardless of the difficulties, however, the Act would need to establish criteria for adding significant and important migration phenomena to the Act’s protections, and the benefits we propose are a reasonable choice.

The limited listing of migrations that have national or regional significance differs from the approach taken by statutes and treaties that apply to a wide array of species, such as the ESA and the Bonn Convention. The Bonn Convention has an inclusive philosophy; it focuses on conserving “migratory species.”[151] Under this coarse screen, any species that is determined to be “migratory” is covered by the Convention.[152] Any species that meets this definition is subject to general, and in some cases aspirational, “fundamental principles.”[153] The Bonn Convention then lists the subset of migratory species that need special attention in two appendices: those species that are endangered[154] and those species that have an “unfavorable conservation status” and therefore require international agreements for their conservation and management.[155] All migrations covered by the Convention and not listed in one of the appendices are considered to be in favorable status. Unlike the Bonn Convention’s approach to initially include all migratory species and then demarcate those species according to threat level, our proposed Act would cover a limited and select group of migrations and aim to durably secure them by directing that a plan to do so be made using a comprehensive set of legal approaches and protection measures.

C. Legal Approaches for Listed Migrations

Once a migration is approved and listed under the Act, the agencies would work to create a conservation plan by evaluating the legal approaches to be applied and the conservation measures to be taken for each migration. As discussed above, an important feature of a migration protection law is that it utilizes a range of legal approaches. Although we work largely with the legal approaches in existing conservation laws, we call for changes in the way these approaches are assembled into law and the purposes and objectives for which they are applied.

At one end of the spectrum, migratory populations that are currently healthy might receive the lightest government touch—for example, incentive programs for state and local planning and regulation, funding programs, and collaborative acquisition programs. Our Act would authorize an incentive program, perhaps modeled on the Coastal Zone Management Act,[156] to encourage states and local governments to conserve and protect migrations that pass through their jurisdictions.[157] In addition, our Act would potentially use existing funding programs such as those authorized by the Partnerships for Wildlife Act,[158] Partners for Fish and Wildlife Act,[159] and Interjurisdictional Fisheries Act.[160] Our Act would also establish a new fund specifically targeting migrations that cross national borders, modeled after existing project funding schemes such as used in the Neotropical Migratory Bird Conservation Act[161] and the Marine Turtle Conservation Act.[162] Our Act would also authorize an acquisition program, perhaps modeled after the Migratory Bird Conservation Act[163] and the Wetland Reserve Program.[164]

At the other end of the spectrum, migratory populations that have already suffered dramatic declines in abundance—the Red Knot, for instance—may require more significant government intervention. Such migratory populations would particularly benefit from regulatory approaches in addition to the funding and incentive-based programs mentioned above. For populations at risk but not listed under the ESA, our Act would authorize a take prohibition for the migratory population. A take prohibition could be modeled after section 9 of the ESA so that habitat destruction and harvesting of food sources could constitute a take,[165] and incidental take permits could be issued.[166] Our Act would also direct the responsible agencies, as part of the conservation plan, to designate key corridors and habitats, to set explicit objectives for acquiring property interests in those delineated areas, and to develop or oversee development of standards and management practices to reduce barriers to migratory movement and to reduce the impacts of land uses.[167]

The details of how these legal approaches would be structured within the statute and regulations, and how these approaches would be specifically implemented by the agencies, is beyond our objectives in this article. But several options for structuring and implementing each legal approach are available. For instance, the Act could use one or more mechanisms of cooperative federalism to inject uniform standards and practices into state, local, and private land use decisions.[168] Choices must be made about appropriate incentives to motivate state and local regulation—two options to be considered are straightforward funding grants and the more complicated incentive of offering states relief from current federal regulation. Several options also are available for land acquisition, including eminent domain, purchases from willing landowners, and tax subsidies.[169] These details are important and will require articulation as the Act is drafted.

Finally, the responsible agencies would develop targets of abundance for all of the migratory populations listed under the Act, regardless of their current health and abundance. These targets would be grounded in a consideration of the benefits sought from each migration. Rough estimates and rules of thumb will prevail due to the lack of information to link population abundance with particular benefits, but the setting of abundance targets is not an empty exercise. Target setting can help clarify and motivate the proactive strategy that is inherent in our proposed Migration Protection Act.

D. First Steps for Non-Listed Migrations

Many species and migrations will fall outside the scope of the statutory reform proposed above for the migrations recognized as nationally or regionally significant. Of those excluded species and migrations, many will be highly valued by one or another community—indeed, many of the bat and bird species considered by authors in this symposium will likely fail to clear the hurdle of the listing criteria we suggest—and many will already be in decline due to human impacts. As we commit to conserving the relatively few great migrations of special importance, we are naturally prompted to inquire about the status of all migrations. What we learn upon such an inquiry is that we have little systematic knowledge about the full range of migrations that touch the United States: the paths migrants take, where they breed and overwinter, their population abundance and dynamics, the specifics of their migratory behavior, and the impacts of humans.[170] In the absence of that systematic knowledge, it would be extraordinary for the nation to make a policy decision to conserve them all at relatively high abundances. But we surely can commit to develop the knowledge we now lack, and to systematically consider the impact of federally funded activities on migrations that may currently be overlooked in planning processes due to the paucity of scientific information. The service of those two relatively modest objectives is the secondary focus of the law reform we recommend.

Thus, we propose that the Act include a provision that directs FWS and NOAA to document the available information on all migrations of mammals, birds, fish, and insects that occur in whole or in part in the United States. This would apply to the nationally and regionally significant migrations as well as those migrations falling outside of that status. The Act would authorize appropriations to fund that documentation as well as needed research on such migrations. The Act would additionally require consideration of the impact of federally funded projects on those documented migrations. This is not to say that consideration of migrations is absent from environmental impact statements now. The National Environmental Policy Act (NEPA)[171] regulations require that, when evaluating the impact of a project, officials must consider the effects of the project on endangered species, park lands, wetlands, wild and scenic rivers, ecologically critical areas, and significant scientific and cultural resources.[172] Impacts of projects on migratory populations and their migrations are clearly within the purview of NEPA evaluations. Such evaluations, however, tend to focus on well-known and highly-visible migrations.[173] NEPA evaluations may overlook impacts to lesser-known and less-visible migrations that have little scientific documentation, such as migrations of tree bats.[174] For those less-visible migrations, then, an express requirement for NEPA evaluation may be especially useful.

A combination of research funding and NEPA consideration can help the agency develop the most critical information on migrations. A requirement for NEPA evaluation alone may not support the longer-term data gathering necessary to document the lesser-known migrations, and funding for migration research alone may not highlight and produce the type of information most important for decision making.[175] Together, they may set the stage for a national strategy to conserve the migration phenomenon across a broad range of species.

IV. Conclusion

Our migration-as-phenomenon perspective and our prescriptions for law reform to conserve migration phenomena share several of the principles embodied in calls for “ecosystem management”: consideration of broad spatial scales, attempts to manage across ownership and administrative boundaries, concern for trophic interconnections and ecosystem functions, use of collaborative decision making, and recognition of human values.[176] One cannot effectively conserve long-distance migrations without considering broad spatial scales, multiple jurisdictions, and landscape components—e.g., patches and corridors—and processes—e.g., fragmentation and source-sink dynamics. Human values and ecosystem functions, key factors in ecosystem management, are integral to our proposed criteria for identifying “significant” migrations. However, our proposed law reform is rooted in the conventional individual natural resource orientation to conservation.[177] Our proposal does not call for or focus explicitly on ecosystem health, integrity, or conservation, or even on biodiversity in general. Like the ESA, our proposed law singles out a few animal populations for special treatment, an approach that might be viewed as the antithesis of ecosystem management.[178]

Our proposal is not necessarily inconsistent with ecosystem management. Ecosystem health would likely benefit from applying the legal approaches we delineate and from protecting the migrations that contact those ecosystems.[179] Additionally, our listed migrations would benefit as a consequence of advancing overall ecosystem health. But because our law reform seeks to maintain the abundance of select animal populations, potential conflicts with other human goals can be expected. Actions for conserving a population and its migration for one set of benefits may at times be inconsistent with human populations and enterprise. Transmission of disease from wild to domestic animals, crop depredation, and competition with fisheries are issues that will surely arise for our significant migrations, as they already have for bison, sea birds, and seals.[180] Moreover, actions to protect migrations may at times conflict with other conservation goals.[181] For example, maintaining some populations at abundances necessary to provide deeply rooted cultural or economic benefits may create unwanted effects on other protected animals—through disease transfer—or on managed ecosystems—through predation on desirable species. Such problems must be resolved during implementation of the law we propose; the solutions may be guided by a strong congressional statement of policy regarding the value of the protected migrations.

Nonetheless, our proposed law reform advances a worthy goal: namely, to contribute to biodiversity conservation by protecting significant migration phenomena and the benefits they provide to humans and ecosystems. Achieving this goal will require a clear and bold commitment and a shift in focus from the piecemeal and reactive approaches common to existing conservation laws. To conserve most of the things we care about that are associated with migrations, particularly in the face of climate and habitat changes, we will have to employ management strategies developed after considering a comprehensive set of available approaches. Our quick look at the conservation status of the rufa Red Knot, pronghorn Antelope, and North American monarch begins to suggest the urgency of a law that mandates the creation of such strategies.

 



* Staff Attorney, Conservation Law Center, and Adjunct Professor of Law, Indiana University Maurer School of Law, Bloomington, Indiana. The author wishes to thank Robert Fischman and the participants of the Fall 2010 Migration Conservation Symposium at the Maurer School of Law for insightful comments on a draft of this article.

** Staff Attorney, Conservation Law Center, and Adjunct Professor of Law, Indiana University Maurer School of Law, and Adjunct Professor, IU School of Public and Environmental Affairs, Bloomington, Indiana.

*** Director, Conservation Law Center, and Adjunct Professor of Law, Indiana University Maurer School of Law, Bloomington, Indiana.

[1] See Eric W. Sanderson et al., The Ecological Future of the North American Bison: Conceiving Long-Term, Large-Scale Conservation of Wildlife, 22 Conservation Biology 252, 253–54 (2008) (discussing the American bison’s effect on ecology and its subsequent near-extinction).

[2] We construct our definition in part from the definition for “migratory species” found in the 1979 Convention on the Conservation of Migratory Species of Wild Animals (Bonn Convention). See Convention on the Conservation of Migratory Species of Wild Animals, art. 1, June 23, 1979, 1651 U.N.T.S. 358, available at http://www.cms.int/documents/convtxt/cms_
convtxt_english.pdf.

[3] For distinctions between these terms, see Hugh Dingle & V. Alistair Drake, What Is Migration?, 57 Bioscience 113, 114 (2007), and Vicky J. Meretsky, Jonathon W. Atwell & Jeffrey B. Hyman, Migration and Conservation: Frameworks, Gaps, and Synergies in Science, Law, and Management, 41 Envtl. L. 447, 456 (2010). Dispersal has been defined as “travel by individuals beyond their home range boundaries when they do not return (at least in the short term) as they would after brief excursions; individual movements out of an area larger than a home range with no predictable return; and one-way movement by a population with no predictable direction.” C. Cormack Gates et al., The Ecology of Bison Movements and Distribution in and Beyond Yellowstone National Park: A Critical Review with Implications for Winter Use and Transboundary Population Management 7 (2005) (citations omitted), available at http://www.nps.gov/yell/parkmgmt/upload/2.pdf.

[4] Lincoln P. Brower & Stephen B. Malcolm, Animal Migrations: Endangered Phenomena, 31 Am. Zoologist 265, 265 (1991).

[5] See id. at 265–66.

[6] See Comm’n for Envtl. Cooperation, North American Monarch Conservation Plan 28 (2008), available at http://www.cec.org/Storage/62/5431_Monarch_en.pdf.

[7] David S. Wilcove, Animal Migration: An Endangered Phenomenon?, 24 Issues Sci. & Tech. (2008), available at http://www.issues.org/24.3/wilcove.html; David S. Wilcove & Martin Wikelski, Going, Going, Gone: Is Animal Migration Disappearing?, 6 PLoS Biology 1361, 1363 (2008), available at http://www.cfr.washington.edu/classes.esrm.150/readings/is_migration_
disappearing.pdf.

[8] David S. Wilcove, No Way Home: The Decline of the World’s Great Animal Migrations 199 (2008); Robert L. Fischman & Jeffrey B. Hyman, The Legal Challenge of Protecting Animal Migrations as Phenomena of Abundance, 28 Va. Envtl. L.J. 173, 178 (2010).

[9] David Quammen, Great Migrations, Nat’l Geographic, Nov. 2010, available at http://ngm.
nationalgeographic.com/2010/11/great-migrations/quammen-text.

[10] See Fischman & Hyman, supra note 8, at 177–78. The phenomenon of migration is threatened in several senses. First, many migratory populations are declining in abundance due to human impacts at all phases of their migratory cycles, and so each of those migrations is individually threatened with demise. Second, if only a small percentage of the migrations that historically existed persist, then the phenomenon itself is threatened even if the few surviving migrations are individually healthy. Third, a diversity of migratory behaviors and taxa exists—bird, mammal, reptile, amphibian, fish, and insect migrations, trans-hemispheric migrations, and multi-generational migrations—and this diversity of the migration phenomenon is threatened. Wilcove, supra note 8, at 1–12, 68, 197–200.

[11] Fischman & Hyman, supra note 8, at 176–77.

[12] Heather L. Reynolds & Keith Clay, Migratory Species and Ecological Processes, 41 Envtl. L. 371, 375 tbl.1 (2011).

[13] S.C. Gwynne, Empire of the Summer Moon: Quanah Parker and the Rise and Fall of the Comanches, the Most Powerful Indian Tribe in American History 5 (2010). Numerous sources speak about the cultural and psychological values of migrations. See Nat’l Park Serv., Dep’t of the Interior, Migration Basics, http://www.nps.gov/akso/ParkWise/Students/
ReferenceLibrary/general/MigrationBasics.htm (last visited Apr. 10, 2011) (teaching students about migration, the U.S. Department of Interior states: “Migration is a fascinating aspect of animal ecology. Migration inspires us . . . .”); see also Wilcove, supra note 8, at 12 (“[A]lmost every aspect of migration inspires awe: the incredible journeys migratory animals undertake and the hardships they face along the way; the complex mechanisms they use to navigate across the land and through the skies and seas . . . .”); D. J. Aidley, Questions About Migration, in Animal Migration 1, 7 (D. J. Aidley ed., 1981) (“But perhaps the main reason for the interest of zoologists in migration is less logical but more pervasive. Migrants are often beautiful, they may journey great distances to faraway places, they act as though they were adventurous, intrepid, free, as though they solved their problems by taking action. They stir the imagination.”); Doug Perrine, South Africa, Sardine Run: Pelagics at Fever Pitch—the Sardine Run, in Diving with Giants: The World’s Best Pelagic Dives 74, 74–75 (Jack Jackson & Rod Baker eds., 2006) (discussing human fascination with and emotional attraction to sardine migrations off the South African coast); Sergio Cristancho & Joanne Vining, Culturally Defined Keystone Species, 11 Hum. Ecology Rev. 153, 153–55 (2004) (discussing conservation priorities based on spiritual or symbolic value); Lawrence St. Leger, Health and Nature—New Challenges for Health Promotion, 18 Health Promotion Int’l 173, 174 (2003) (explaining that exposure to nature and viewing flora and fauna can enhance psychological health); Press Release, Holt Introduces Bill to Protect Wildlife Corridors: Corridors are Vital to Hunting and Wildlife Watching Industries (Apr. 21, 2010), http://www.house.gov/apps/list/press/nj12_holt/0421wildlife.html (last visited Apr. 10, 2011) (quoting U.S. Representative Rush Holt of New Jersey as saying: “The lives of the American people always have been interwoven with the movement of wildlife. Today, wildlife corridors are vital to the outdoor traditions that are a central part of our national character . . . ”). See generally Peter H. Kahn, Jr., The Human Relationship with Nature: Development and Culture 13–17 (1999) (summarizing research demonstrating improvements in psychological well-being resulting from exposure to natural landscapes and affiliation with animals).

[14] National Historic Preservation Act, 16 U.S.C. §§ 470 to 470x-6 (2006 & Supp. III 2010).

[15] For example, almost five million people participated in whale watching in the United States in 2008. Int’l Fund for Animal Welfare, Whale Watching Worldwide: Tourism Numbers, Expenditures and Expanding Economic Benefits, a Special Report from the International Fund for Animal Welfare 5 (2009). This whale watching is largely tied to migration patterns. Id. at 6.

[16] Jonathan W. Atwell, Dawn M. O’Neal & Ellen D. Ketterson, Animal Migration as a Moving Target for Conservation: Intra-Species Variation and Responses to Environmental Change, as Illustrated in a Sometimes Migratory Songbird, 41 Envtl. L. 289, 297 (2011).

[17] See Peter P. Marra, David Hunter & Anne M. Perrault, Migratory Connectivity and the Conservation of Migratory Animals, 41 Envtl. L. 317, 319 (2011).

[18] David N. Bonter et al., Characteristics of Important Stopover Locations for Migrating Birds: Remote Sensing with Radar in the Great Lakes Basin, 23 Conservation Biology 440, 441 (2008).

[19] See infra Part II.

[20] See, e.g., J.B. Ruhl, Biodiversity Conservation and the Ever-Expanding Web of Federal Laws Regulating Nonfederal Lands: Time for Something Completely Different?, 66 U. Colo. L. Rev. 555, 601 (1995) (listing the Endangered Species Act as an example of a species-by-species protection approach the United States has taken toward biodiversity conservation).

[21] See Wilcove, supra note 8, at 10 (“A more fundamental problem may be that migration at its best is essentially a phenomenon of abundance. Just as one swallow does not a summer make, one warbler or one Monarch does not constitute a migration—not, at least, in our hearts.”); Fischman & Hyman, supra note 8, at 177–78; Wilcove & Wikelski, supra note 7, at 1361 (“Protecting the abundance of migrants is the key to protecting the ecological importance of migration. As the number of migrants declines, so too do many of the most important ecological properties and services associated with them.”); see also Reynolds & Clay, supra note 12, at 371 (explaining that animal migrations are clear examples of the phenomena of abundance).

[22] Endangered Species Act of 1973, 16 U.S.C. §§ 1531–1544 (2006).

[23] Migratory Bird Treaty Act, 16 U.S.C. §§ 703–712 (2006).

[24] Convention on the Conservation of Migratory Species of Wild Animals, supra note 2.

[25] To the extent that the purposes of laws such as the ESA extend their concern to ecosystem protection and the role that species play ecologically, this concern overlaps with our concern for the ecological benefits of migration. See 16 U.S.C. § 1531(b) (2006) (stating that the fundamental purpose of the ESA is “to provide a means whereby the ecosystems upon which endangered species and threatened species depend may be conserved”). However, the fact that the ESA is triggered only after a species is reduced to critically low abundance works against any effort to maintain the species’ ecological role, which likely requires substantially higher abundances.

[26] See generally Marra, Hunter & Perrault, supra note 17, at 327 (discussing migratory connectivity of songbirds and the importance of this information for long-term conservation of migratory species).

[27] See generally Paul M. Cryan, Wind Turbines as Landscape Impediments to the Migratory Connectivity of Bats, 41 Envtl. L. 355 (2011) (discussing bat mortality caused by wind turbines and challenges of developing conservation strategies for migratory species that are not well understood or protected by law).

[28] John H. Roe & Arthur Georges, Heterogeneous Wetland Complexes, Buffer Zones, and Travel Corridors: Landscape Management for Freshwater Reptiles, 135 Biological Conservation 67, 71, 73–74 (2007).

[29] See generally Kathleen A. Miller, Conservation of Migratory Species in a Changing Climate: Strategic Behavior and Policy Design, 41 Envtl. L. 573, 590 (2011) (discussing the effects of harvesting on Atlantic bluefin tuna).

[30] See Richard A. Holland, Martin Wikelski & David S. Wilcove, How and Why Do Insects Migrate?, 313 Science 794, 796 (2006) (discussing the importance of insect migrations and the difficulty of tracking them).

[31] Meretsky, Atwell & Hyman, supra note 3, at 525.

[32] Our intent is not to weigh in on which migrations are nationally or regionally significant—whether a particular migration or migratory population is considered nationally or regionally significant is an empirical question that cannot be answered outside of the administrative, judicial, political, and scientific process.

[33] See Hedley S. Grantham et al., Effective Conservation Planning Requires Learning and Adaptation, 8 Frontiers Ecology & Env’t 431, 434 (2010).

[34] Marine Mammal Protection Act of 1972, 16 U.S.C. §§ 1361–1421h (2006).

[35] Migratory Bird Conservation Act, 16 U.S.C. §§ 715–715s (2006).

[36] Neotropical Migratory Bird Conservation Act, 16 U.S.C. §§ 6101–6109 (2006).

[37] Marine Turtle Conservation Act of 2004, 16 U.S.C. §§ 6601–6607 (2006).

[38] North Pacific Anadromous Stocks Act of 1992, 16 U.S.C. §§ 5001–5012 (2006).

[39] Inter-American Convention for the Protection and Conservation of Sea Turtles, art. II, Dec. 13, 1996, S. Treaty Doc. No. 105-48 (1998) (entered into force May 2001).

[40] Convention Between the United States and Great Britain for the Protection of Migratory Birds, U.S.-Gr. Brit., Aug. 16, 1916, Papers Relating to the Foreign Relations of the United States, U.S. State Dept. (1925), 1916 U.S.T. LEXIS 14; Convention Between the United States and the United Mexican States for the Protection of Migratory Birds and Game Mammals, U.S.-Mex., Feb. 7, 1936, 50 Stat. 1311; Convention Between the Government of the United States of America and the Government of Japan for the Protection of Migratory Birds and Birds in Danger of Extinction, and Their Environment, U.S.-Japan, 25 U.S.T. 3329; Convention Between the United States of America and the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics Concerning the Conservation of Migratory Birds and Their Environment, U.S.-U.S.S.R., Nov. 19, 1976, 29 U.S.T. 4647.

[41] Convention on the Conservation and Management of Highly Migratory Fish Stocks in the Western and Central Pacific Ocean, art. 2, Sep. 5, 2000, T.I.A.S. No. 13,115.

[42] See U.S. Fish & Wildlife Serv., Migratory Bird Program: Conserving America’s Birds, http://www.fws.gov/migratorybirds/dmbmdbhc.html (last visited Apr. 10, 2011) (describing program goals); see also Craig Watson et al., The South Atlantic Migratory Bird Initiative—An Integrated Approach to Conservation of “All Birds Across All Habitats” 267 (2004) (describing the goals of the South Atlantic Migratory Bird Initiative).

[43] See U.S. Envtl. Prot. Agency, Bird Conservation Initiatives, http://www.epa.gov/
owow/birds/bird.html (last visited Apr. 10, 2011) (describing initiative goals); U.S. Fish & Wildlife Serv., North American Waterfowl Management Plan, http://www.fws.gov/birdhabitat/
nawmp/index.shtm (last visited Apr. 10, 2011) (describing goals of the management plan).

[44] See U.S. Fish & Wildlife Serv., Overview of the U.S. Shorebird Conservation Plan and Council, http://www.fws.gov/shorebirdplan/USShorebird/Overview.htm (last visited Apr. 10, 2011) (describing the U.S. Shorebird Conservation Plan as a cooperative effort among state and federal agencies and nongovernmental organizations to develop a “scientific framework to determine species, sites and habitats that most urgently need conservation action”); U.S. Envtl. Prot. Agency, supra note 43 (describing the North American Bird Conservation Initiative as a broad “umbrella” organization for many existing conservation initiatives, including the U.S. Shorebird Conservation Plan).

[45] See James A. Kushlan et al., Waterbird Conservation for the Americas: North American Waterbird Conservation Plan, Version 1, at 4 (2002), available at http://www.pwrc.usgs.gov/nacwcp/pdfs/plan_files/complete.pdf (providing a “continental-scale framework for the conservation of 210 species of waterbirds”).

[46] See Partners in Flight–U.S., What Is Partners in Flight (PIF)?, http://www.
partnersinflight.org/description.cfm (last visited Apr. 10, 2011) (“The central premise of Partners in Flight (PIF) has been that the resources of public and private organizations in North and South America must be combined, coordinated, and increased in order to achieve success in conserving bird populations in this hemisphere.”).

[47] See U.S. N. Am. Bird Conservation Initiative Comm., North American Bird Conservation Initiative–U.S., http://www.nabci-us.org/main2.html (last visited Apr. 10, 2011) (“The Committee’s strategy is to foster coordination and collaboration on key issues of concern, including bird monitoring, conservation design, private lands, international collaboration, and state and federal agency support for integrated bird conservation.”); U.S. Envtl. Prot. Agency, supra note 43.

[48] See W. Hemisphere Shorebird Reserve Network, http://www.whsrn.org/western
hemisphere-shorebird-reserve-network (last visited Feb. 20, 2011) (stating the mission of the Western Hemisphere Shorebird Reserve Network “is to conserve shorebirds and their habitats through a network of key sites across the Americas”).

[49] See U.S. Fish & Wildlife Serv., Division of Int’l Conservation, Western Hemisphere Migratory Species Initiative, http://www.fws.gov/international/dic/WHMSI/whmsi_eng.html (last visited Apr. 10, 2011) (“The Western Hemisphere Migratory Species Initiative (WHMSI) seeks to contribute significantly to the conservation of the migratory species of the Western Hemisphere by strengthening communication and cooperation among nations, international conventions and civil society, and by expanding constituencies and political support.”).

[50] See U.S. Fish & Wildlife Serv., Wildlife Without Borders: Multinational Species Conservation Funds (2006), available at http://www.fws.gov/international/dic/pdf/MNSCF
_Brochure_06_reprint.pdf. (“The Service’s Wildlife Without Borders program awards grants to projects aimed at conserving globally-valued endangered species found outside U.S. borders.”)

[51] The Marine Mammal Protection Act of 1972 includes the element of protecting an “optimum sustainable population” that is a “significant functioning element” in the ecosystem of which it is a part, 16 U.S.C. § 1361(2) (2006), and thus introduces an idea that may be useful for conserving migrations containing an abundance of animals. In part, the MMPA congressional findings and declaration of policy state:

(1) certain species and population stocks of marine mammals are, or may be, in danger of extinction or depletion as a result of man’s activities; (2) such species and population stocks should not be permitted to diminish beyond the point at which they cease to be a significant functioning element in the ecosystem of which they are a part, and, consistent with this major objective, they should not be permitted to diminish below their optimum sustainable population. Further measures should be immediately taken to replenish any species or population stock which has already diminished below that population. . . . (6) marine mammals have proven themselves to be resources of great international significance, esthetic and recreational as well as economic, and it is the sense of the Congress that they should be protected and encouraged to develop to the greatest extent feasible commensurate with sound policies of resource management and that the primary objective of their management should be to maintain the health and stability of the marine ecosystem. Whenever consistent with this primary objective, it should be the goal to obtain an optimum sustainable population keeping in mind the carrying capacity of the habitat.

Id. § 1361(1)–(2), (6). “Optimum sustainable population” is defined as “the number of animals which will result in the maximum productivity of the population or the species, keeping in mind the carrying capacity of the habitat and the health of the ecosystem of which they form a constituent element.” Id. § 1362(9).

[52] For example, the U.S. Shorebird Conservation Plan, a cooperative planning effort authorized in part by the MBTA, establishes population targets to meet its national goal to “stabilize populations of all shorebird species known or suspected of being in decline due to limiting factors occurring within the United States, while ensuring that common species are also protected from future threats.” Manomet Ctr. for Conservation Scis., U.S. Shorebird Conservation Plan 5 (2d ed. 2001), available at http://www.fws.gov/shorebirdplan/
USShorebird/downloads/USShorebirdPlan2Ed.pdf. For shorebird populations known or thought to be declining, but not listed under the ESA, the long-term target is to restore the population to the level estimated to have existed in the early 1970s. Id. at 24. For populations not declining, the long-term goal is to maintain the population at current levels, even if that target is thought to be at historic (i.e., pre-1800) levels. Id.

[53] Lawrence J. Niles et al., Cooper Ornithological Soc’y, Studies in Avian Biology No. 36, Status of the Red Knot (Caladris canutus rufa) in the Western Hemisphere 28 (2008); Petition to list Red Knot (Caladris canutus rufa) from Delaware Riverkeeper Network et al., to U.S. Fish & Wildlife Serv. 13 (Aug. 2, 2005).

[54] Niles et al., supra note 53, at 28; Petition to list Red Knot (Caladris canutus rufa), supra note 53, at 12.

[55] Niles et al., supra note 53, at 15–17.

[56] Petition to list Red Knot (Caladris canutus rufa), supra note 53, at 16.

[57] Niles et al., supra note 53, at 33.

[58] Petition to list Red Knot (Caladris canutus rufa), supra note 53, at 14.

[59] Niles et al., supra note 53, at 95.

[60] The horseshoe crab is itself a migratory species that makes a seasonal spawning migration between the continental shelf and breeding beaches. See, e.g., Mark L. Botton & John W. Ropes, Populations of Horseshoe Crabs, Limulus polyphemus, on the Northwestern Atlantic Continental Shelf, 85 Fishery Bull. 805, 805–06, 809 (1987).

[61] Ecological Research & Dev. Grp., The Horseshoe Crab: Conservation, http://www.horseshoecrab.org/info/conservation.html (last visited Apr. 10, 2011).

[62] Robert A. Fisher & Dylan ‘Lee Fisher, VIMS Marine Resource Report No. 2006-10, The Use of Bait Bags to Reduce the Need for Horseshoe Crab as Bait in the Virginia Whelk Fishery 3 (2010); Md. Dep’t of Natural Res., Horseshoe Crabs Conservation, http://www.dnr.state.md.us/
education/horseshoecrab/hscmanagement.html (last visited Apr. 10, 2011).

[63] Brian T. Murray, Birds’ Knotty Trouble: The Decline of Crab Eggs, The Star-Ledger (N.J.), Feb. 10, 2008, http://blog.nj.com/ledgerarchives/2008/02/birds_knotty_trouble_the_
decli.html (last visited Apr. 10, 2011).

[64] Niles et al., supra note 53, at 96.

[65] Press Release, U.S. Fish & Wildlife Serv., Red Knot Named Candidate for Endangered Species Act Protection (Sept. 12, 2006), available at http://www.fws.gov/news/newsreleases/
showNews.cfm?newsId=A26DAA75-DFC1-18FC-1DF52CD3E63D886F; see also Annual Notice of Findings on Resubmitted Petitions, 71 Fed. Reg. 53,756, 53,770 (Sept. 12, 2006) (to be codified at 50 C.F.R. pt. 17) (explaining that the agency “reviewed the current status of and threats to the [Red Knot and other candidate species and] . . . have found listing . . . to be warranted-but-precluded”).

[66] David N. Cherney & Susan G. Clark, The American West’s Longest Large Mammal Migration: Clarifying and Securing the Common Interest, 42 Pol’y Sci. 95, 97 (2009).

[67] Id.

[68] Id.

[69] Id. (“[The] pronghorn that make this migration are considered part of a larger management unit called the Sublette Antelope Herd of approximately 45,000 animals.”). Most of the pronghorn routes were lost because of habitat conversion for agriculture, roads, or reservoirs through canyons. Joel Berger, Steven L. Cain & Kim Murray Berger, Connecting the Dots: An Invariant Migration Corridor Links the Holocene to the Present, 2 Biology Letters 528, 530 (2006).

[70] Cherney & Clark, supra note 66, at 97.

[71] See Joel Berger, The Last Mile: How to Sustain Long-Distance Migration in Mammals, 18 Conservation Biology 320, 324 (2004) (describing the four bottlenecks, two of which can be as narrow as 100 meters, or 328 feet).

[72] David N. Cherney, Securing the Free Movement of Wildlife: Lessons From the American West’s Longest Land Mammal Migration, 41 Envtl. L. 599, 606 (2011) (highlighting the location and importance of this bottleneck to conservationists); Hall Sawyer, Fred Lindzey & Doug McWhirter, Mule Deer and Pronghorn Migration in Western Wyoming, 33 Wildlife Soc’y Bull. 1266, 1271 (2005) (emphasizing that Trapper’s Point is the bottleneck of most critical concern).

[73] Cherney, supra note 72, at 606; Sawyer, Lindzey & McWhirter, supra note 72, at 1271 (noting the natural river and riparian boundaries of the bottleneck).

[74] Cherney, supra note 72, at 606, 609–10 (multiple pages) (noting the housing and commercial development obstacles to migration, as well as the possible fatal consequences that fencing may pose to pronghorn); Cherney & Clark, supra note 66, at 104 (noting that oil and gas drilling may displace pronghorn); see Sawyer, Lindzey & McWhirter, supra note 72, at 1270–72 (emphasizing potential obstacles in the migration route and wintering grounds, including direct habitat loss, and human disturbance associated with fences, road networks and highways, and increased development). Pronghorn are managed as game animals, but such an approach does nothing for the Grand Teton pronghorn migration phenomenon. See generally Abby Mellinger et al., Wyo. Open Spaces Initiative, Improving Big Game Migration Corridors in Southwest Wyoming 1 (2010), available at http://www.uwyo.edu/openspaces/docs/
Ruckelshaus%20Institute%20Open%20Spaces.pdf (listing pronghorn as among “big game” animals in Wyoming, and noting the obstacles that make this migration more difficult); Wyo. Game & Fish Dep’t, Pronghorn Working Group Homepage, http://gf.state.wy.us/
wildlife/pronghorn%20working%20group/index.asp (last visited Apr. 10, 2011) (demonstrating that pronghorn are managed by the Wyoming Game & Fish Department).

[75] U.S. Dep’t of Agric., Monarch Butterfly: North America’s Migrating Insect 4–5 (2008), available at http://www.fs.fed.us/wildflowers/pollinators/documents/Monarch_
Butterfly.pdf; Ctr. for Sonoran Desert Studies, Ariz.-Sonora Desert Museum, Migratory Pollinators Program, http://www.desertmuseum.org/pollination/Monarchs.php (last visited Apr. 10, 2011) (describing the two populations and their respective overwintering sites).

[76] Lincoln P. Brower et al., Quantitative Changes in Forest Quality in a Principal Overwintering Area of the Monarch Butterfly in Mexico, 1971–1999, 16 Conservation Biology 346, 347–48 (2002) (noting that the eastern North America population of Monarch butterflies overwinters for five months on twelve mountains in central Mexico on a small, high-elevation boreal forest area); U.S. Dep’t of Agric., supra note 75, at 4 (noting that the butterflies overwinter in Mexico from October to March).

[77] Brower et al., supra note 76, at 348 (emphasizing the ideal nature of the microclimate in preventing the butterflies from freezing); see U.S. Dep’t of Agric., supra note 75, at 4 (explaining that the cool microclimate is not cold enough to force the butterflies to use their fat reserves); Lincoln P. Brower, Linda S. Fink & Peter Walford, Fueling the Fall Migration of the Monarch Butterfly, 46 Integrative & Compar. Biology 1123, 1124 (2006) (explaining that the butterflies do little feeding while overwintering, and instead rely on metabolizing lipid reserves).

[78] See U.S. Dep’t of Agric., supra note 75, at 4, 6 (noting that the butterflies reproduce and then head north at the end of the overwintering period in March).

[79] Wilcove, supra note 8, at 60–61; R. L. Koch et al., Predicted Impact of an Exotic Generalist Predator on Monarch Butterfly (Lepidoptera: Nymphalidae) Populations: A Quantitative Risk Assessment, 8 Biological Invasions 1179, 1180 (2006).

[80] Wilcove, supra note 8, at 61–63.

[81] Id.

[82] Id.

[83] Id. at 59–60, 63; Brower et al., supra note 76, at 1123–25.

[84] See, e.g., Brower et al., supra note 76, at 1124; Koch et al., supra note 79, at 1180; Jay Withgott, Pollination Migrates to Top of Conservation Agenda: A Collaborative Effort on Migratory Pollinators Aims to Increase Research, Education, and Conservation Efforts, 49 BioScience 857, 859 (1999); Ctr. for Sonoran Desert Studies, supra note 75.

[85] See Brower et al., supra note 76, at 1123; Ctr. for Sonoran Desert Studies, supra note 75.

[86] Many Monarchs are lipid deprived upon reaching their overwintering grounds and subsequently die. Ctr. for Sonoran Desert Studies, supra note 75.

[87] The Monarch Butterfly Special Biosphere Reserve was created in 1986 by national decree to protect overwintering sites for the Monarch. Catherine M. Tucker, Community Institutions and Forest Management in Mexico’s Monarch Butterfly Reserve, 17 Soc’y & Nat. Resources 569, 570 (2004). The reserve imposed boundaries on land belonging predominately to indigenous communities. Id. While these indigenous communities retained formal land titles, they lost most of their rights to use the forests that had long been their common property. Id. Although much progress has been made to further protect the overwintering sites since the reserve’s inception, illegal logging of the reserve’s forests continues to be a serious problem. J. Honey-Rosés, Disentangling the Proximate Factors of Deforestation: The Case of the Monarch Butterfly Biosphere Reserve in Mexico, 20 Land Degradation & Dev. 22, 29 (2009); Wilcove, supra note 8, at 65–67.

[88] Conditions predicted by climate change models suggest that the current overwintering sites will not be suitable for Monarchs in 2055. See Comm’n for Envtl. Cooperation, supra note 6, at 27.

[89] See id. at 23–24.

[90] See id. at 27.

[91] The western population of North American Monarchs faces similar threats. In particular, many of the overwintering sites on the California coast consist of stands of pines and eucalyptus trees on private property subject to real estate development. Wilcove, supra note 8, at 67.

[92] Meretsky, Atwell & Hyman, supra note 3, at 471–72.

[93] Id.

[94] See Petition to list Red Knot (Caladris canutus rufa), supra note 53, at 1, 5, 20, 36–37, 44.

[95] See id.

[96] Steven L. Yaffee, Collaborative Strategies for Managing Animal Migrations: Insights from the History of Ecosystem-Based Management, 41 Envtl. L. 657, 668–69 (2011).

[97] John D. Echeverria, Regulating Versus Paying Land Owners to Protect the Environment, 26 J. Land Resources & Envtl. L. 1, 1–2 (2005).

[98] Ruhl, supra note 20, at 647–54.

[99] Marine Mammal Protection Act of 1972, 16 U.S.C. § 1361 (2006).

[100] U.S. Comm’n on Ocean Policy, Primer on Ocean Jurisdictions: Drawing Lines in the Water 70–73 (2004), available at http://www.oceancommission.gov/documents/full_color_rpt/
000_ocean_full_report.pdf.

[101] Even if new migration protection laws were to be enacted population by population, many or most of the migratory populations that would be covered by the new laws—say, pronghorn, Monarchs, and Red Knots—would not be well served by taxon-specific statutes such as the Marine Turtle Conservation Act and MMPA, and so would require new species-specific legislation.

[102] The MBTA today covers over 1000 bird species. Press Release, U.S. Fish & Wildlife Serv., Official Number of Protected Migratory Bird Species Climbs to More than 1000 (Mar. 1, 2010), http://www.fws.gov/midwest/news/release.cfm?rid=184 (last visited Apr. 10, 2011). At least some of the listed species are not migratory; for example, the Northern Cardinal (Cardinalis cardinalis) is a year-round resident throughout its range. Cornell Lab of Ornithology, All About Birds: Northern Cardinal, http://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/Northern_Cardinal/id (last visited Apr. 10, 2011).

[103] Grant G. Thompson, Nat’l Marine Fisheries Serv., U.S. Dep’t of Commerce, NOAA Technical Memorandum NMFS-F/NWC-198, Determining Minimum Viable Populations Under the Endangered Species Act (1991), available at http://www.nwfsc.noaa.gov/publications/
techmemos/tm198/body.html.

[104] Migratory Bird Treaty Act, 16 U.S.C. § 703(a) (2006). See Meretsky, Atwell & Hyman, supra note 3, at 481–86.

[105] See U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, Draft Land-Based Wind Energy Guidelines 3–4, 13 (2011), available at http://www.fws.gov/habitatconservation/wind.html.

[106] See, e.g., Migratory Bird Hunting and Conservation Stamp Act, 16 U.S.C. §§ 718a–718j (2006) (requiring hunters sixteen years of age or older to purchase Migratory Bird Hunting and Conservation Stamps, which provides money for the Migratory Bird Conservation Fund to acquire migratory bird refuge areas, in addition to funding the engraving, printing, and issuing of stamps).

[107] Annual Notice of Findings on Resubmitted Petitions, 75 Fed. Reg. 69,222, 69,242 (Nov. 10, 2010) (to be codified at 50 C.F.R. pt. 17); Annual Notice of Findings on Resubmitted Petitions, 74 Fed. Reg. 57,804, 57,825 (Nov. 9, 2009) (to be codified at 50 C.F.R. pt. 17).

[108] See Niles et al., supra note 53, at 33–36, 95–96, 105–07; U.S. Fish & Wildlife Serv., Red Knot (Caladris canutus rufa) Spotlight Species Action Plan 1–5­­­ (2010).­­­

[109] Niles et al., supra note 53, at 24.

[110] Id.

[111] Id. at 63–64.

[112] Id. at 102–05, 133–37; Annual Notice of Findings on Resubmitted Petitions, 75 Fed. Reg. at 69,241; Annual Notice of Findings on Resubmitted Petitions, 74 Fed. Reg. at 57,825.

[113] See W. Hemisphere Shorebird Reserve Network, WHSRN List of Sites, http://www.
whsrn.org/sites/list-sites (last visited Apr. 10, 2011) (listing Delaware Bay as one of its sites and highlighting the group’s function to “bring[] attention to sites that are vital for the conservation of the hemisphere’s longest-distance migrants”); see also W. Hemisphere Shorebird Reserve Network, Funding: Hemispheric Red Knot Conservation, WHSRNews, Sept. 10, 2010, http://www.whsrn.org/news/article/funding-hemispheric-red-knot-conservation (last visited Apr. 10, 2011) (describing new funding for projects to be conducted through Manomet’s Shorebird Recovery Project, with the goal to double the Red Knot population from 30,000 to 60,000 individuals within 10 years).

[114] See Atlantic Coastal Fisheries Cooperative Management Act, 16 U.S.C. §§ 5102(3), 5103(a) (2006); Atlantic States Marine Fisheries Comm’n, Horseshoe Crab, http://www.asmfc.org/
horseshoeCrab.htm (last visited Apr. 10, 2011); Nat’l Marine Fisheries Serv., Nat’l Oceanic & Atmospheric Admin., State/Federal Liaison Branch (Grants), http://sero.nmfs.noaa.gov/
grants/grants.htm (last visited Apr. 10, 2011) (demonstrating NOAA’s cooperative link to the Atlantic Coastal Fisheries Cooperative Management Act). The Atlantic States Marine Fisheries Commission was established by the 15 Atlantic coast states (Maine through Florida, including Pennsylvania) in 1942 through an interstate compact consented to and approved by Congress in Public Laws 77–539 and 81–721. 16 U.S.C. § 5102(3) (2006); Atlantic States Marine Fisheries Comm’n, About Us, http://www.asmfc.org/aboutUs.htm (last visited Apr. 10, 2011). Each of the 15 states is represented on the ASMFC by three commissioners, including the director for the state’s marine fisheries management agency, a state legislator, and a state governor appointed individual representing fishery interests. Id. The ASMFC’s Interstate Fisheries Management Program “promote[s] the cooperative management of marine, estuarine, and anadromous fisheries in state waters of the East Coast through interstate fishery management plan[]” development. Atlantic States Marine Fisheries Comm’n, Interstate Fisheries Management, http://www.asmfc.org/interstate.htm (last visited Apr. 10, 2011). The program was first developed in response to passage of the Atlantic Coastal Fisheries Cooperative Management Act (ACFCMA). See Office of Sustainable Fisheries, NOAA Fisheries, State-Federal Fisheries: The Atlantic Coastal Fisheries Management Act, http://www.nmfs.noaa.gov/sfa/state_federal/
State-Federal-WEB/acfcmafs.htm (last visited Apr. 10, 2011) (describing the expansion that the ACFCMA caused in the program’s development). The U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service supports the fishery management efforts of the ASMFC. Id.

[115] Niles et al., supra note 53, at 104–05.

[116] Id.

[117] See Petition to List Red Knot (Caladris canutus rufa), supra note 53, at 22; Renewed Emergency Petition to List the Red Knot (Caladris canutus rufa) from Defenders of Wildlife et al., to U.S. Fish & Wildlife Serv. 3 (Feb. 27, 2008); see also U.S. Fish & Wildlife Serv., supra note 108, at 1.

[118] See Lawrence J. Niles et al., Effects of Horseshoe Crab Harvest in Delaware Bay on Red Knots: Are Harvest Restrictions Working?, 59 BioScience 153, 153–54 (2009).

[119] Cherney, supra note 72, at 601.

[120] Id. at 601.

[121] Id. at 604–10.

[122] Id. at 614–15.

[123] Id. at 608–10. Cherney discusses two successes. The first is the Bridger-Teton National Forest amended forest management plan that requires “[a]ll projects, activities, and infrastructure authorized in the designated Pronghorn Migration Corridor will be designed, timed and/or located to allow continued successful migration of the pronghorn that summer in Jackson Hole and winter in the Green River basin.” Decision Notice & Finding of No Significant Impact: Pronghorn Migration Corridor Forest Plan Amendment, Carole ‘Kniffy’ Hamilton, Forest Supervisor, U.S Forest Serv. 1 (May 31, 2008). The second is the Corridor Conservation Campaign, initiated by the Upper Green River Valley Land Trust in 2008, which converted 80 miles of fence to pronghorn-friendly fencing in 2009 at no cost to landowners. Cherney, supra note 72, at 609–10.

[124] See Cherney, supra note 72, at 608–09.

[125] A significant limitation of the Pronghorn Migration Corridor amendment is that the Forest Plan governs only National Forest System land, whereas the pronghorn’s migration route includes lands under many jurisdictions. U.S. Forest Serv., Decision Notice and Finding of No Significant Impact: Pronghorn Migration Corridor Forest Plan Amendment 1–2 (2008), available at http://wyomingoutdoorcouncil.org/html/what_we_do/
wildlife/pdfs/PronghornMigrationCorr-ROD.pdf. The Forest Plan does not apply to activities on private land, including private land within the forest boundary. Id. For the pronghorn, this means that critical places on their migration route are not covered by any meaningful protection program.

[126] Cherney, supra note 72, at 610.

[127] The concept of designated migration corridors is appropriate for migratory populations like the Grand Teton pronghorn, at least on public land. Corridor designation may not be an effective approach for other migratory taxa, particularly where migration pathways involve a large proportion of private lands and migration fronts are spatially diffuse, as with the eastern population of Monarch butterflies.

[128] Yaffee, supra note 96, at 670.

[129] The standard barbed wire fence is a major impediment to pronghorn movement because pronghorn rarely jump fences and their primary means to cross fences is to move underneath them. Hall Sawyer & Bill Rudd, Pronghorn Roadway Crossings: A Review of Available Information and Potential Options 4 (2005), available at http://www.westinc.com/
reports/pronghorn_report_final.pdf. An antelope-friendly fence has a space on the bottom of the fence. Id. Pronghorn generally require, at minimum, sixteen inches of space between the ground and the bottom wire of the fence to maneuver underneath; however, state wildlife agencies often recommend eighteen inches for pronghorn-friendly fencing. Id. The vast majority of fences constructed on western rangelands have been designed with bottom wires approximately ten inches off the ground. Id. at 5; see also AntelopeGatefreeParadise.org, Home, http://www.antelopegp.org/ (last visited Apr. 10, 2011) (explaining that a “normal fence out west has four horizontal barbed wires.” If the bottom two wires are removed, and the upper one of those wires is replaced with a non-barbed wire, leaving an empty space where the fourth wire was, the fence becomes “antelope friendly.”). Road crossings are another obstacle for pronghorns. According to Sawyer and Rudd, as narrow, single-lane roadways with low to moderate traffic volumes change to wider, multi- or divided-lane roadways with high traffic volumes, the ability for pronghorn to cross at grade-level will decrease or possibly be eliminated, and these changes make it increasingly important to identify structural options to facilitate pronghorn movements across roadways. Sawyer & Rudd, supra, at 5; see also R.E. Autenrieth et al., Pronghorn Management: 2006 (21st Pronghorn Workshop & N.D. Game & Fish Dep’t 2006), available at http://gf.nd.gov/multimedia/pubs/prong-mgmt-guide-pdf-ndx.html. The authors recommend underpasses associated with large open-span bridge structures, approximately twenty-four feet in height, with no or pronghorn-friendly fencing, limited human-related disturbance in the area of the crossing, and for those structures that cross hydrologic features or riparian habitat, lengthened bridges that include a portion of the uplands. Sawyer & Rudd, supra, at 20.

[130] Projects include development of milkweed propagation methods and plans; development of instructions for creating habitat for Monarchs; identification and assessment of western Monarch overwintering sites in California; and research, education, and monitoring. Monarch Joint Venture, Projects, http://Monarchjointventure.org/projects.htm (last visited Apr. 10, 2011). Private landowners also may tap into financial support from the NRCS under 2002 Farm Bill Programs such as the Wildlife Habitat Incentives Program (WHIP) to protect butterfly habitat and to plant wildflower gardens, roadsides, and idle areas with nectar-producing plants. Private Landowner Network, Wildlife Habitat Incentives Program (WHIP), http://www.
privatelandownernetwork.org/yellowpages/resource.aspx?id=1664 (last visited Apr. 10, 2011).

[131] See News Release, U.S. Fish & Wildlife Serv., Wildlife Without Borders—Mexico Program: Summary of Approved Projects, available at http://www.fws.gov/news/NewsReleases/
pdf/WildlifeWithoutBorders08.pdf (summarizing projects that FWS has funded in Mexico to protect Monarch habitats).

[132] Comm’n for Envtl. Cooperation, supra note 6, at 28.

[133] See Comm’n for Envtl. Cooperation, About the Commission, http://www.cec.org/
Page.asp?PageID=1226&SiteNodeID=310&BL_ExpandID=154 (last visited Apr. 10, 2011). The Commission for Environmental Cooperation (CEC) implements the 1993 North American Agreement on Environmental Cooperation. Id. The governments of Canada, Mexico, and the United States are signatories to a number of other treaties and conventions that provide for bilateral, trilateral, or multilateral cooperation related to the conservation of species and ecosystems including the 1916 Convention Between the United States and Great Britain for the Protection of Migratory Birds, the 1936 Treaty for the Protection of Migratory Birds and Game Mammals, between Mexico and the United States, the 1940 Convention on Nature Protection and Wildlife Preservation in the Western Hemisphere, the 1971 Convention of Wetlands of International Importance Especially as Waterfowl Habitat, the 1973 Convention on International Trade of Endangered Species of Wild Fauna and Flora, and the 1992 Convention on Biological Diversity. See U.S. Fish & Wildlife Serv., Digest of Federal Resource Laws, Migratory Bird Treaty Act of 1918, http://www.fws.gov/laws/lawsdigest/MIGTREA.HTML (last visited Apr. 10, 2011); George Cameron Coggins & Anne Fleishel Harris, The Greening of American Law? The Recent Evolution of Federal Law for Preserving Floral Diversity, 27 Nat. Resources J. 247, 266–67 (1987); U.S. Fish and Wildlife Serv., Ramsar Convention on Wetlands of International Importance 1–2, available at www.fws.gov/international/dic/global/pdf/Ramsarfactsheet_
2008.pdf; The Convention on Biological Diversity, Country Profiles, http://www.cbd.int/
countries/ (last visited Apr. 10, 2011).

[134] See Comm’n for Envtl. Cooperation, supra note 6 (summarizing the decline of Monarchs and establishing a prioritized action plan for conservation and recovery).

[135] Id. at 38–42.

[136] See Trilateral Comm. for Wildlife & Ecosystem Conservation & Mgmt., Current Table Co-Chairs, http://www.trilat.org/about-the-trilateral/current-table-co-chairs (last visited Apr. 10, 2011) (listing representatives from FWS, the Canadian Wildlife Service, and the Mexican Ministry of Environment and Natural Resources as forming the executive table of the committee). The Trilateral Committee, which was established by a Memorandum of Understanding among the wildlife agencies of the three nations, facilitates cooperation and coordination among the agencies in conservation projects and programs. Trilateral Comm. for Wildlife & Ecosystem Conservation & Mgmt., Background: About the Trilateral Committee, http://www.trilat.org/about-the-trilateral (last visited Apr. 10, 2011).

[137] See Comm’n for Envtl. Cooperation, supra note 6, at 29.

[138] Id. at 30.

[139] See id. at 31 (“In California, current legal protections involve a patchwork of city ordinances, coastal zone management plans and state law. In 1987, the California legislature passed Assembly Bill #1671, to recognize the Monarch’s migration and winter aggregation as a natural resource and to encourage the protection of its winter habitat. . . . A small number of Californian cities and counties have enacted ordinances that prohibit activities that disturb Monarchs and their winter roost trees. Of the ordinances currently in place, many apply these prohibitions only when Monarchs are present.”).

[140] See id. at 38–39.

[141] Id. at 4, 27.

[142] List of Endangered Foreign Fish and Wildlife, 35 Fed. Reg. 18,319, 18,320 (Dec. 2, 1970) (codified at 50 C.F.R. pt. 17 app. A); see also Endangered Status for North Pacific and North Atlantic Right Whales, 73 Fed. Reg. 12,024 (Mar. 6, 2008) (to be codified at 50 C.F.R. pt. 224) (listing the previously listed “northern right whale” as two separate species—the North Atlantic Right Whale (Eubalaena glacialis) and the North Pacific Right Whale (Eubaleana japonica)); Office of Protected Res., Nat’l Oceanic & Atmospheric Admin., North Atlantic Right Whales (Eubalaena glacialis), http://www.nmfs.noaa.gov/pr/species/mammals/cetaceans/rightwhale_
northatlantic.htm (last visited Apr. 10, 2011) (describing the characteristics, habitat, threats, and recovery plan of the North Atlantic Right Whale, as well as providing a link to relevant federal regulations). The North Atlantic Right Whale is also designated as depleted under the MMPA. Id.

[143] Office of Protected Res., supra note 142.

[144] See, e.g., Mark F. Baumgartner et al., Associations Between North Atlantic Right Whales and Their Prey, Calanus finmarchicus, Over Diel and Tidal Time Scales, 264 Marine Ecological Progress Series, Dec. 15, 2003, at 155, 164 (evaluating predator-prey relationships as one example of the ecological significance of Right Whales).

[145] See U.S. Fish & Wildlife Serv., Species Profile for Whooping Crane (Grus americana), http://ecos.fws.gov/speciesProfile/profile/speciesProfile.action?spcode=B003 (last visited Apr. 10, 2011) (“The total population of wild and captive whooping cranes in July, 2010, was 535.”); Endangered Species, 32 Fed. Reg. 4001, 4001 (Mar. 11, 1967) (listing Whooping Cranes under the Endangered Species Preservation Act of Oct. 15, 1966).

[146] See Wilcove, supra note 8, at 4–5; Fischman & Hyman, supra note 8, at 175 (discussing “the distinguishing attributes of animal migrations, why they are important to biodiversity conservation, and the legal challenges posed by migration conservation”).

[147] See supra Part II.A.

[148] The ESA listing process is contained in section 4 of the Endangered Species Act of 1973, 16 U.S.C. § 1533(c) (2006).

[149] See supra text accompanying note 11.

[150] See generally Reynolds & Clay, supra note 12, at 376–78 (discussing ecological services provided by migrating species).

[151] See Convention on the Conservation of Migratory Species of Wild Animals, supra note 2, at 1–2 (defining “migratory species” as “the entire population or any geographically separate part of the population of any species or lower taxon of wild animals, a significant proportion of whose members cyclically and predictably cross one or more national jurisdictional boundaries”).

[152] Id.; see also Elizabeth A. Baldwin, Twenty-Five Years Under the Convention on Migratory Species: Migration Conservation Lessons from Europe, 41 Envtl. L. 535, 535 (2011).

[153] See Convention on the Conservation of Migratory Species of Wild Animals, supra note 2, at 2.

[154] Id. at 2; see also id. app. 1 at 1–4.

[155] Id. at 2–3; see also id. app. 2 at 5–10.

[156] Coastal Zone Management Act of 1972, 16 U.S.C. §§ 1451–1466 (2006 & Supp. III 2010); 15 C.F.R. pts. 923, 930 (2010).

[157] 16 U.S.C. § 1451(i) (2006).

[158] Partnerships for Wildlife Act, 16 U.S.C. §§ 3741–3744 (2006).

[159] Partners for Fish and Wildlife Act, 16 U.S.C. §§ 3771–3774 (2006).

[160] Interjurisdictional Fisheries Act of 1986, 16 U.S.C. §§ 4101–4107 (2006 & Supp. III 2010).

[161] Neotropical Migratory Bird Conservation Act, 16 U.S.C. §§ 6101(4), 6108(a) (2006).

[162] Marine Turtle Conservation Act of 2004, 16 U.S.C. §§ 6601–6604 (2006 & Supp. III 2010).

[163] Migratory Bird Conservation Act, 16 U.S.C. §§ 715(a)–(f), (k) (2006).

[164] Conservation Program Improvements Act, 16 U.S.C. §§ 3837–3837f (2006).

[165] See, e.g., Babbitt v. Sweet Home Chapter of Cmtys. for a Great Or., 515 U.S. 687, 696, 700–01 (1995) (holding that an action that would cause the destruction of the habitat of an endangered species may constitute a taking prohibited by section 9 of the ESA). Section 9 is at 16 U.S.C. § 1538 (2006).

[166] Endangered Species Act of 1973, 16 U.S.C. § 1539(a)(1)(B) (2006).

[167] Other non-substantive provisions would be needed to strengthen the effectiveness of these regulatory approaches, such as authorization for enforcement (including citizen suit authority), inclusion of migration in NEPA review, and appropriations of funds.

[168] See generally Robert L. Fischman, Cooperative Federalism and Natural Resources Law, 14 N.Y.U. Envtl. L.J. 179 (2005) (discussing the operation of cooperative federalism in environmental and natural resources law).

[169] See generally Echeverria, supra note 97 (discussing various methods of environmental conservation through governmental land acquisition).

[170] See, e.g., John Faaborg et al., Conserving Migratory Land Birds in the New World: Do We Know Enough?, 20 Ecological Applications 398, 411 (2010) (acknowledging challenges in fully understanding migratory behavior); Meretsky, Atwell & Hyman, supra note 3, at 469.

[171] National Environmental Policy Act of 1969, 42 U.S.C. §§ 4321–4347 (2006).

[172] 40 C.F.R. § 1508.27(b) (2010).

[173] For example, in Natural Resources Defense Council, Inc. v. Hodel, 865 F.2d 288 (D.C. Cir. 1988), petitioners claimed that the Environmental Impact Statement (EIS) for the Department of Interior’s offshore oil and gas leasing program failed to consider the cumulative impacts of simultaneous development in the Pacific and Alaskan regions on species, particularly whales and salmon, that migrate through the different planning areas. Id. at 297. The court agreed, concluding that although the EIS devoted a few sentences to the inter-regional effects of the program on migrating species, “these snippets d[id] not constitute real analysis; they merely state (and restate) the obvious . . . .” Id. at 299. The court then suggested that the evaluation could “identify the various migratory species and the full range of their routes of migration, describe the OCS and non-OCS activities along those routes, and state the synergistic effect of those activities on the migratory species. . . . Finally, the Secretary could, consistent with NEPA’s requirement that he consider alternatives to the proposed action, examine alternatives to simultaneous development that would mitigate any synergistic impacts on migratory species, such as staggering development.” Id. at 300.

[174] See Cryan, supra note 27, at 357–58.

[175] Current NEPA regulations require an agency to determine those situations where either relevant information is missing or scientific uncertainty exists. 40 C.F.R. § 1502.22 (2010). Information relevant to adverse impacts must be included in the EIS whenever it is essential to a reasoned choice among alternatives and the cost of obtaining the information is not exorbitant. Id. § 1502.22(a). The unavailability of information typically will not halt the federal action—particularly where the information needed depends on long-term research—but the agency must weigh the cost of proceeding in the absence of sufficient information as one factor in the decision. See, e.g., Alaska v. Andrus, 580 F.2d 465, 473–74 (D.C. Cir. 1978); see also Jicarilla Apache Tribe of Indians v. Morton, 471 F.2d 1275, 1280 (9th Cir. 1973).

[176] See U.S. Gen. Accounting Office, GAO/RCED-94-111, Ecosystem Management: Additional Actions Needed to Adequately Test a Promising Approach 6–7 (1994); Richard Haeuber, Ecosystem Management and Environmental Policy in the United States: Open Window of Closed Door?, 40 Landscape & Urb. Plan. 221, 223 (1998); Robert B. Keiter, Beyond the Boundary Line: Constructing a Law of Ecosystem Management, 65 U. Colo. L. Rev. 293, 295 (1994).

[177] See U.S. Gen. Accounting Office, supra note 176, at 39.

[178] See Keiter, supra note 176, at 309.

[179] Reynolds & Clay, supra note 12, at 387–89.

[180] See id. at 377–78.

[181] See Mark W. Schwartz, Conflicting Goals for Conserving Biodiversity: Issues of Scale and Value, 14 Nat. Areas J. 213, 215 (1994).