When it comes to sucking carbon dioxide out of the atmosphere, trees and forests are well-known champions. But when it comes to sequestering methane, their role is much more complicated. Forest ecosystems sometimes absorb methane, other times they emit it — creating a complex exchange of gases that scientists are only beginning to understand. Boreal forests across Canada, Alaska, Scandinavia, and Russia can sometimes be methane sinks, but they’re also set to become major emitters as climate change accelerates.
That’s the challenge the Boreal Biosequester project is tackling. By deploying newly developed methane detecting chambers at Howland Research Forest in Maine, Woodwell Climate Associate Scientist Dr. Jennifer Watts and Senior Research Scientist Kathleen Savage, along with collaborators from Arizona State University and University of Maine Orono plan to measure methane flows on a granular level to understand which bacteria consume it and how they function across the ecosystem.
Once they’ve mapped these methane-munching microbes—called methanotrophs—across varying tree species, temperatures, and seasonal shifts, the researchers want to publish their findings so governments, land trusts and foresters can enhance the activity and presence of these climate superstars, transforming ecosystems from methane sources into sinks.
Why methane matters
Methane has been overlooked in climate discussions, which largely focus on carbon dioxide, but it’s 87 times more powerful at trapping heat over a 20 year period. Atmospheric levels of methane are now 2.6 times higher than pre-industrial levels—the highest they’ve been in 800,000 years. Crucially, methane emissions from boreal forests are expected to rise or even double as temperatures rise.
Natural environments, such as wetlands and forests, account for a large portion of global methane emissions, which is why finding nature-based solutions to bring down emissions is such an important area of research. Boreal Biosequester’s approach offers the chance to turn natural sources into sinks, while also providing co-benefits such as enhanced biodiversity, wildlife habitats, flood reduction, erosion prevention, and improved air quality.
“If the methanotrophs are there, why not learn to work with them as effectively as possible?” says Watts. “If we were to work with human technology to reduce methane, you’d have to build something energy-intensive. This is a passive way to work with the forest sustainably. If we leave a forest to grow or regenerate, or if we afforest, we can both draw down CO2 and, we hope, consume methane.”
The genesis of the project
Watts and Savage were initially looking at methane sources and sinks for the US National Science Foundation. At first, they focused on soils, which were at the time considered the primary drivers of whether forests were sources or sinks. Then a groundbreaking paper revealed trees’ crucial role in methane uptake. With microbial ecologist Dr. Hinsby Cadillo-Quiroz from Arizona State University, they decided to study methane fluxes around tree trunks and canopies as well as in the soil, and sought funding from CarbonFix to carry out this study.
“When we looked at the canopy level, we could see net consumption, but soil data were all over the place,” Watts explains. “The data showed something important happening between the soils and treetops.”
The world of methanotrophs on plant surfaces is largely uncharted. The team will isolate and study these bacteria in labs while measuring methane consumption across soils, trunks, and canopies through different seasons and climates.
“We’re really the explorers venturing into this new micro-universe,” says Watts. “We know there are microbes out there, we just need to get to know them.”
Only in the last 15 years could methane gas be measured accurately at this scale. The team is uniquely positioned at Howland Forest, which has rare historical methane flux data from eddy covariance towers (structures measuring the exchange of gases) dating to 2011, plus access to both pristine and harvested forest areas for direct comparison.
The Method
CarbonFix’s grant will be used for the first phase to map methanotroph behavior and measuring fluxes across forest layers across the course of a year. Once they’ve secured additional funding, the team will identify optimal conditions for methane consumption across different tree species and environments. Next, they’ll test hypotheses in greenhouse settings, demonstrating how specific tree species can convert methane-emitting wetlands into methane-consuming ecosystems.
Finally, they’ll share findings through reports and presentations targeting governments, land trusts, foresters, and carbon markets to implement these practices in forest management.
Potential impact
For now, the team will focus on working out how methanotrophs function, and the conditions in which they thrive.
“A tiny creature, like a methanotroph, can influence a tree in many ways: it can fix nitrogen, it can clean metabolites. But the true beauty of this partnership is that a single tree could host methanotrophs in many ways and a thousand trees can host methanotrophs in a million ways. We just need to figure out how to channel this partnership to remove many tons of methane molecules. Achieving that would be a major breakthrough to help gain time against climate change,” says Cadillo-Quiroz.
The findings may extend beyond forests to landfills, agriculture, logging, or fire-damaged areas — countless applications where understanding and influencing methane fluxes through bacteria could prove transformative.
What’s more, if the team’s findings show how methanotrophs can be inoculated into new forests, they could become part of every new reforestation project.
Reforestation is urgently needed: between 2001-2023, Canada, Alaska, and the Northern US lost over 70 million hectares of forest — three times the UK’s landmass — from fire and harvest. Most of these wet soil areas are net methane emitters. Reforesting and inoculating them with methanotrophs could create carbon and methane sequestration superheroes. The team estimates targeted afforestation could remove over 10 million metric tons of methane — reducing 30-40% of high-latitude methane budgets while simultaneously sequestering CO2.
But for now, there’s lots of work to be done. The team of four are rolling up their sleeves for fieldwork and lab analysis.
“At minimum, it will be fascinating data filling knowledge gaps about methane uptake,” says Savage. “If we can remove methane short-term, we have leeway to address more challenging CO2 elements requiring extensive work.”
Watts adds: “Our group is always thinking about how what we do now will impact society later. I’m excited to develop methodologies that we can share worldwide, creating community transformation for people across the planet.”
This week, Director of Government Relations Laura Uttley, Senior Scientist Dr. Sue Natali, and Senior Scientist Dr. Brendan Rogers were appointed to Woodwell Climate’s three endowed chairship positions to honor their leadership in the field of climate research and policy.
These appointments are professional distinctions that honor the living legacy of Sally Shallenberger Brown, Dr. George Woodwell, and Dr. Richard “Skee” Houghton, whose vision and leadership continue to guide work at the Center. The endowed funds provide salary support for a renewable three-year term, annual stipends, and recognition of the appointee’s leadership.
“I’m thrilled to announce the appointment of these remarkable experts to Woodwell’s three endowed chairs,” said Woodwell Climate President and CEO Dr. Max Holmes, who led the selection committee along with Drs. John Holdren and Jennifer Francis. “This public recognition of their extraordinary contributions, along with the support provided by the endowments, will unlock exciting opportunities to advance climate solutions.”
The Sara Shallenberger Brown Chair of Environmental Policy
Laura Uttley, Director of Government Relations
Sara Shallenberger Brown was an influential environmentalist and philanthropist who served on the boards of many environmental and conservation nonprofits throughout her lifetime, including Woodwell Climate (then Woods Hole Research Center).
The Brown chairship recognizes Uttley’s fifteen years of experience bridging science and policy in Washington, D.C. She has developed federal advocacy strategies and facilitated outreach to policymakers, ensuring that Woodwell Climate’s leading research influences policy development and implementation. Prior to joining Woodwell, Uttley worked at Lewis-Burke Associates and served in the offices of Congressman James Langevin, Senator Jack Reed, and the Assistant Secretary of Defense for Legislative Affairs. She is also a Truman National Security Project Political Partner and teaches advocacy at American University. Her expertise and leadership embody the Brown Chair’s mission of connecting science with conservation and policy at the highest levels.
The George M. Woodwell Chair in Conservation
Dr. Sue Natali, Senior Scientist
George Woodwell was not only the founder of the Center, but a pioneer and visionary whose scientific inquiries hit on the biggest environmental issues of the late twentieth century, including DDT, nuclear radiation, and “the carbon dioxide problem.”
Natali is a leading Arctic climate scientist whose pioneering research on permafrost thaw has deepened our understanding of the immense risks it poses. She directs the Permafrost Pathways initiative, funded through the TED Audacious Project, which brings together scientists, policymakers, and Indigenous communities to inform equitable adaptation and mitigation strategies. Natali’s commitment to collaboration, her extensive fieldwork across the Arctic, and her global engagement exemplify the legacy of George Woodwell, our founder, whose vision was to unite science and conservation for lasting impact.
The Richard “Skee” Houghton Chair in Carbon Cycle Science
Dr. Brendan Rogers, Senior Scientist
Since becoming one of the Center’s first employees, Skee Hougton has shaped the organization as its Acting Director & President, and his research field, notably contributing to the reports of the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change, which was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize in 2007.
Rogers’ research focuses on boreal forests and Arctic tundra, with particular emphasis on wildfire, permafrost thaw, and their consequences for the global carbon cycle. He integrates field measurements, satellite observations, and modeling to understand rapidly changing northern ecosystems and to inform resource management and policy. As co-lead of Permafrost Pathways, Rogers has emerged as a global leader in translating science into action, embodying the tenacity, rigor, and collaborative spirit that defined Dr. Houghton’s career.
It is now peak hurricane season: What to expect for storms in the Atlantic
Don’t be fooled by the lack of tropical cyclones in the Atlantic Basin.
The peak of hurricane season is here, and activity could soon ramp up, despite the relative quiet currently occurring in the tropics, according to meteorologists.
What happens when salmon don’t return?
Regional warming in the Arctic is exacerbating the decline of Yukon River Chinook Salmon
By Nicole Pepper and Ellis Goud
To Brooke Woods, fish is everything. Living just outside the Koyukon village of Rampart, Alaska – one of 50 small fishing communities along the Yukon River – her daily childhood routine involved waking up in the log cabin her family built, walking to school every day, and most importantly, going to fish camp right outside of her home.
Fish camp is both a location and a tradition. During the summer, families travel to riverside camps to harvest and process fish for the long winters, as well as connect with community and large extended families. Here on the Yukon River, the camps line the banks of the world’s longest salmon migration. The river and its tributaries pass through countless Alaska Native communities across the region, providing a key location to fish throughout the summer.
“Growing up, salmon, fish camp, and family were such important parts of our livelihoods and kinship,” Woods says. “My mom’s siblings – she was one of eleven – would all come to Rampart from surrounding communities where they lived, including my grandma. And we would all go to fish camp, which is a really important place outside of our homes.”
Today, Woods is the Climate Adaptation Specialist at Woodwell Climate Research Center, where she integrates Indigenous Knowledge to shape equitable and science-backed policy in the Arctic. But now, she can’t fish for salmon in the river she grew up near. And neither can anyone else.
Salmon as subsistence
Last year, the Alaska Department of Fish and Game and Fisheries and Oceans Canada signed an agreement suspending the harvest of Chinook salmon for seven years – the length of their life cycle – in response to declining population numbers. A combination of mortality from bycatch and environmental factors from climate change has exacerbated their decline.
Chinook salmon, also known as king salmon, are one of the main salmon species in the Yukon River. They are the largest, most nutritious, and most valued fish in Alaska Native culture. Over the past few years, their numbers across the state have fallen below the long-term average. Historically, 375,000 salmon passed through the Yukon River Drainage every year. Last year, there were only 65,000.
The ban on Chinook harvesting is devastating for Alaska Native communities because salmon, among other fish, make up a large part of their traditional diet. Rich in protein, omega-3 fatty acids, and essential vitamins, salmon has served as a primary food source for thousands of years.
Subsistence provides food security in rural Alaska and is necessary for community health. Due to remoteness, short growing seasons, and high transportation costs of food, fresh produce is scarce. Without access to salmon, Alaska Native communities often have to replace this crucial protein with expensive commercial foods that are lower in quality and nutrition.
Beyond nutritional and economic benefits, salmon is also a vital part of Alaska Native culture. Knowledge of salmon harvesting is passed down through generations, and the sharing and receiving of salmon is critical to preserving traditional ways of life. It is also a way for communities to connect with the land.
“Salmon is such an important part of who we are as Indigenous people,” Woods explains. “I feel like I’m very strong in my culture because of salmon.”
But as salmon populations decline and harvesting halts, Alaska Native communities lose access to one of the most vital fish species in their diet and culture.
“Our foods, they keep us well in so many different ways,” Woods says. “And when that’s taken away from you, it’s hard to find healthy ways to get through.”
The journey across the Yukon River
Every June, Alaska Native communities wait in anticipation for the salmon to arrive.
Yukon River Chinook salmon begin their lives in freshwater spawning grounds and spend up to a year growing into juveniles, also known as smolts. After going through smoltification, they migrate into the ocean and spend anywhere from one to six years maturing and growing into adults. When they are ready to reproduce, salmon migrate from the Bering Sea back to their spawning grounds across the Yukon River basin.
As adult Chinook salmon make the journey upstream to spawn, some migrate as much as 2,000 miles. Starting in the summer, typically from June to September, the salmon pass through the Yukon in different groups called runs.
To George Yaska, the Indigenous Knowledge Liaison for the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service in Alaska, the summer season passes in phases of fish runs. Yaska grew up in Huslia and lived off of fish on the Koyukuk River, a tributary that flows downstream into the Yukon.
“The very first salmon that show up are the fish that we want to start cutting,” Yaska says. “They’re the freshest, the strongest, the biggest, and the fattest.”
Chinook and chum (dog) salmon migrate through the Yukon first, followed by coho (silver) salmon. While many people travel to the riverside to fish, Yaska says Alaska Native fishers only take what they need.
“If we did well early, we would stop [fishing],” Yaska says. “There were lots of people above us. The fish haven’t got to them yet, and we have to let them fish.”
But year after year, less and less salmon are passing through the Yukon. Growing up, Yaska’s family would take 40 to 50 fish to keep them fed through the winter. In the 90s, it was 10 to 20. And this year, it’s zero.
Warming temperatures are killing salmon
Science indicates that warming water temperatures are a major contributor to low salmon returns, NOAA Fisheries says. As climate change advances, rivers in higher latitudes, like the Yukon River, are warming nearly twice as fast as rivers in temperate areas. In recent years, Alaska has recorded multiple record-breaking heatwaves – including this summer. The state released its first heat advisory ever in June.
In outer regions around Fairbanks, temperatures above 75 degrees trigger a heat advisory. In the interior, it’s 85 degrees. In June, temperatures were expected to reach the mid-80s.
While these temperatures may not appear dangerous, they can cause extreme ecological changes in the Arctic, including increased wildfires, permafrost thaw, soil erosion, and most important for salmon, ocean and stream warming.
Increased water temperatures impact salmon health at every stage in their life, especially during their migration period. They become stressed in warmer water, forcing them to burn energy faster and swim slower. Salmon also become more susceptible to disease.
Daily maximum stream temperatures have risen over 10 degrees above the optimal spawning temperature of 5 degrees Celsius this summer. In July, Yukon River Drainage’s pilot station – the first station in the watershed that all salmon must pass through to migrate upstream – exceeded the critical temperature threshold of 64.4 degrees Fahrenheit (18 degrees Celsius) nine days in a row. Once a stream’s temperature passes this temperature limit, fish can lose their ability to function.
In the Salcha Station, located in the middle of the Yukon River Drainage, daily maximum stream temperatures were higher than the maximum optimal spawning temperature of 55 degrees Fahrenheit (12.8 degrees Celsius) throughout the majority of the summer. The Salcha Station is historically one of the most abundant spawning grounds for Chinook salmon.
The management crisis
Issues around commercial harvesting have also played a role in declining salmon runs in Alaska. In the mid-90s, the majority of Chinook salmon in the Yukon were overharvested by commercial fishermen several years in a row. In 1995, the first 10-mile stretch of the Yukon River after the Bering Sea (also known as Y-1) was the site of a large-scale overharvesting event.
“Eight hundred commercial fishermen fished for 9 and a half or 10 and a half inch fish, which is huge,” Yaska says. “In a 24-hour opening, they caught 147,000 kings.”
Because there were so many taken at once, salmon have not been able to rebound to their initial population numbers.
“Ever since then, the run has been demolished,” Yaska says.
Bycatch at sea also poses a threat to salmon populations. Trawlers catching pollock, a common fish in the Bering Sea, are the main source of salmon bycatch. When salmon are unintentionally caught by large industrial trawlers, the fish often die from stress, injury, or suffocation.
In 2011, the NPFMC implemented a Chinook salmon bycatch limit in response to unusually high bycatch numbers – including a peak of 122,000 caught in 2007. Amendment 91 designed a system to manage Chinook salmon bycatch in the Bering Sea pollock fishery by setting two caps on the number of salmon that could be incidentally caught, with a high limit of 60,000 and a low limit of 47,591 depending on the overall size of the salmon runs that year.
Amendment 110, also called the Three-River Index, was developed shortly after Amendment 91 to further monitor and protect Chinook salmon populations. If the number of salmon returning to the Kuskokwim, Unalakleet, and Upper Yukon River systems is less than 250,000 fish, the cap is reduced to a high limit of 45,000 and a low limit of 33,318.
To measure bycatch, every pollock vessel in the Bering Sea must carry at least one certified observer to monitor, identify, and count salmon. Additionally, every vessel has an Electronic Monitoring system and cameras to record the vessel’s catch.
But even with current management actions, salmon populations are still struggling. As stream temperatures increase, salmon are under possibly lethal conditions during the summer months of migration. Decreasing bycatch numbers in the Bering Sea before salmon migrate through the Yukon River gives the population the best chance of dealing with today’s climate stressors.
“All the other issues that are now in play – temperatures, ocean conditions, ecosystem problems due to trawling out in the Bering Sea – all of those things are now having an impact when they didn’t before,” Yaska says.
Taking community action
When fewer salmon return to the Yukon River, tribes, communities, and families suffer. As climate warming and bycatch decimate salmon populations, Alaska Native communities believe the best course of action towards salmon success is Indigenous-informed management practices, not banning subsistence.
“Shutting down subsistence in rivers – shutting down tribes – is not the solution,” Woods says. “Tribes are not the reason we are seeing the salmon collapse. We have traditional values of only taking what you need.”
Woods has spent almost 10 years in the advocacy sphere, where she and Alaska Native community members have worked to uplift tribal sovereignty in governance and management. Although the work is exhausting, Woods has seen progress and solidarity across the region.
“Tribes and Alaska Native organizations are exhausting all avenues to ensure that our salmon survive and that traditional practices, or subsistence, is provided,” Woods says.
When Alaska Native community members are represented in government bodies like the Alaska Board of Fisheries, management practices can focus on encouraging representative and equitable decision making while protecting both salmon and subsistence.
Yaska, who works with tribes on both the Yukon and Kuskokwim Rivers through the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, ensures the integration of Alaska Native knowledge into conservation efforts. By giving community members a seat at the table, their knowledge and way of life can be preserved. And as Alaska Native culture and tradition is protected, so are the salmon that communities rely on.
“Because salmon have no voice, we have to try to speak for them,” Yaska says.
What keeps Woodwell Climate Director of Government Relations, Laura Uttley going day to day?
Uttley leads the Center’s domestic policy advocacy, and it’s been a hard year for domestic policy. In the past, her work has involved building relationships with members of Congress, tracking climate-relevant legislation, and planning Hill visits and briefings with Center scientists. This year, it’s been all that plus an exhausting gauntlet of crisis response, as climate science falls under attack from an antagonistic presidential administration. It is a federal policy landscape that makes advancing climate research, mitigation policy, and adaptation efforts harder than perhaps at any point in U.S. history.
But waiting for easier times is not an option.
Since the start of the new presidential administration in January, federal funding and support infrastructure for science has been slashed, and many laws, court rulings, and Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) regulations that form the foundation of the U.S.’s climate and environmental policy have been targeted or overturned to make way for an agenda that prioritizes fossil fuels. Protecting as much environmental policy as possible has become an urgent priority for Uttley and the rest of the Government Relations team at Woodwell, but despite the chaos and uncertainty, they aren’t flagging.
“What gets me going on a day to day basis, is that I have a job to do,” says Uttley.
Holding back the floodwaters
At the beginning of the year, Uttley and the Government Relations team were bracing themselves for the new administration to “flood the zone.” The tactic, which involves mounting as many attempts as possible to repeal legislation, cut funding, and stymie regular governmental proceedings in a short timespan, is designed to overwhelm potential opposition and the media.
“It is done very intentionally,” says Uttley. “To distract. To exhaust. To cloud your judgment on things, and get you too focused on one area, so that you’re unaware or unable or too limited in terms of resources to work in a different space.”
And that’s exactly what newly appointed officials did—from pulling the U.S. out of the Paris Agreement, to proposing the sale of public lands, to firing staff from key agencies like the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA), to changing regulation around how the EPA implements signature environmental legislation.
The instinct, Uttley says, for individuals and organizations that care about diversity, the environment, or public funding for science, is to react to everything because every attack feels like a devastating loss. But that is exactly what drains motivation and resources the fastest.
“I don’t have the luxury of outrage right now,” says Uttley.
So she and others have had to stay focused on the most significant policy battles, concentrating resources on the areas most aligned with Woodwell Climate’s mission and expertise.
“You could make the argument that we should be in any number of fights and policy debates,” says Uttley. “But if we go too far afield, the impact of our voice changes in those dialogues that are so core to our mission. Staying focused can be really hard to do when everything feels so deeply important.”
Top Priority: The Endangerment Finding
Among the fights the Center’s Government Relations team has engaged in, protecting the infrastructure of American climate policy has been a chief priority. In July, the administration announced its intent to revoke the Endangerment Finding, which underpins the majority of U.S. climate action. This finding from the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) affirms that the emission of six greenhouse gasses into the atmosphere— including carbon dioxide and methane— represents a threat to human health and wellbeing, giving the agency authority to regulate them. The decision was based on rigorous science, and was re-affirmed in a 2018 study, led by then-president of Woodwell Climate, Dr. Phil Duffy, who wrote that in the intervening years evidence in support of the finding had only accumulated.
The current administration has attempted to call into question the scientific basis of the finding by releasing a report from the Department of Energy (DOE) that challenges consensus on the damaging impacts of carbon emissions. The suggestion that regulating emissions has caused more harm than the effects of climate change, according to Dave McGlinchey, who served as Woodwell Climate’s Chief of Government Relations between 2016 and 2025, is a blatant dismissal of scientific fact.
“We built an operation here at Woodwell that is very non-partisan, but the idea that the Executive Branch of the U.S. federal government just doesn’t engage with evidence, or moves forward despite clearly contravening evidence, is a real challenge,” says McGlinchey.
It also dismisses the fact that the EPA’s ability to regulate things like tailpipe and power plant emissions has improved air quality for millions of Americans. The finding has made our skies clearer, lungs healthier, and contributed meaningfully to reducing the U.S.’s emissions.
Legal challenges to the proposed repeal began to roll in almost immediately after its announcement, and the opportunity for public comment on the rule was extended to September 22. The Woodwell Climate team developed an organizational comment in support of the Finding to throw more scientific weight behind the efforts to keep it in place.
Climate risk spans political divides
While the political landscape around climate mitigation remains contentious, opportunities to advance resilience projects on the local scale remain. Communities across the political spectrum are feeling the acute impacts of climate change and need information to protect themselves.
“Risk is a bipartisan issue,” says McGlinchey. “Unfortunately, in this country, we have repeated, catastrophic reminders of what climate change impacts look like, so people are attuned to that. They want to understand risk and they want to understand how to become more resilient.“
Andrew Condia, External Affairs Manager, leads the Center’s primary climate adaptation project, Just Access. The initiative connects climate scientists with communities both in the U.S. and around the world to provide assessments of current and future climate risks at no cost to the communities. With a better understanding of how variables like flooding, drought, heatwaves, and fires will impact their communities in the coming years, leaders in municipal governments have been able to have climate-informed conversations about planning, infrastructure, and public health. Even in overwhelmingly conservative areas.
“We work with some Democratic mayors, some Republican mayors, and they are lined up and equally as engaged in the process,” says Condia. “They understand the importance of this information and know that it’s a critical tool to help them as their communities grow and change in the future.”
The sweeping nature of cutbacks on the federal level has meant that municipalities are now one of the only places these conversations are able to move forward.
“I think local governments recognize that in the absence of federal leadership, it’s up to them to step up to make progress on these issues. It’s the only climate action in the country that is really making meaningful progress right now,” says Condia.
Bigger picture, longer term
At higher levels of government, McGlinchey says the current top priority is to maintain relationships with policymakers and lay the groundwork for long-term changes while momentum in the short term has been halted.
“We can’t look at how bleak the landscape appears to be and throw our hands up and give up. Because political winds shift frequently in this country, and fairly dramatically, and when they shift again, we don’t want to start at zero,” says McGlinchey.
For the past three years the Government Relations team has organized “fly-ins”, which bring Woodwell Climate scientists to Washington D.C. for meetings with Members of Congress and their staff. The fly-ins are key to how the Center stewards relationships on Capitol Hill and raises issues like permafrost thaw or flood insurance risk to the attention of legislators. Despite this year’s political changes, Uttley was still able to bring 12 scientists, board members, and staff for meetings with 15 congressional offices this September.
Woodwell has also remained active in coalition groups, which combine the power of many organizations to push for common goals.
“We’re engaged in the Adaptation Working Group, Friends of NOAA, the Coalition for National Science Funding, and more,” says Uttley. “From a policy perspective we have really seen the advocacy community rally together this year.”
And while the U.S. regresses on climate action, the rest of the world continues forward. Woodwell Climate is helping to propel important climate policy on the international stage, forming a delegation to the annual UN Conference of Parties (COP) in Belém, Brazil in November. Given its location, tropical forests will feature heavily on the agenda this year, and the Center will be showcasing emerging work on tropical regenerative agriculture, sustainable development in the DRC, and financing for forest protection. The Center is also collaborating with the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change (UNFCCC) to provide technical support for countries submitting biennial transparency reports on their progress towards climate goals.
Momentum on climate means telling climate stories
Still, facing down the urgency and magnitude of climate change, these incremental wins and slowly unfolding plans often don’t feel like enough compared to swift federal actions. Especially for individuals who don’t have their hands on the levers of power. But Uttley says the local level is where most change has always started, and individuals can make a difference.
“While I’m working to make systemic change on the federal level, one of the most powerful things each of us can do to keep up momentum on climate is to tell stories about local impacts,” says Uttley. Whether it’s about soccer practices canceled for heat or commuting lanes flooded, stories that connect climate change to our daily lives help change minds and motivate action.
Working on climate policy in times like these is a careful balance of hope and disappointment, Uttley says, but in order to move forward hope always has to win out. Not wishful thinking, but the kind of hope that springs from facing down the obstacles and getting to work.
“I’ve been in public policy and advocacy for 15 years,” says Uttley. “If I didn’t have a strong sense of optimism and hope, I would not be able to do this job.”
Soil carbon: Crucial ally or potential threat to net-zero commitments?
The daily destruction of nature’s carbon stores is happening right before our eyes, as forests are ravaged by catastrophic wildfires and vast tracts of wildlands are cleared for agriculture. But even greater stores of carbon lie hidden beneath our feet, and they too are under threat.
The world’s soils are a gigantic carbon sink that has so far played a vital, outsized role in mitigating humanity’s excessive carbon emissions. But climate change, industrialized agriculture and other human activities threaten to degrade global soil carbon storage — maybe dangerously so.
Preserving the ecosystem services of this subterranean environment is crucial to meeting global net zero commitments.