Tag Archives: Farming

Sustainability Update : Government breaks pledge to keep developers off farmland

 

 

 

Britain‘s best farmland will no longer be shielded from development, proposed new planning rules suggest, reversing a pledge made by the Conservatives before the last election. The Independent reports

Instead, the new National Planning Policy Framework (NPPF), which is generating fierce opposition from countryside and heritage groups, suggests that even “the best and most versatile agricultural land” can be built on in certain circumstances.

The change is evident when comparing the Conservative green paper, Open Source Planning, which was issued in 2010 and foreshadowed how a Tory Government might reform the planning system, and the draft NPPF itself, which was released in July and is now open for consultation.

The earlier document says on page 20: “We will introduce into our national planning framework rules preventing the development of the most fertile farmland, in all but exceptional circumstances.”

However, in the new draft, ministers have backpedalled over protecting such land. The document says, in paragraph 167: “Local authorities should take into account the economic and other benefits of the best and most versatile agricultural land.”

The change is part of a substantial shift in emphasis that the Government is trying to enforce in the planning system, from protecting the countryside and the natural environment to facilitating development.

At the heart of the new guidance, which will replace 1,300 pages of planning rules with fewer than 60, is “a presumption in favour of sustainable development” and the idea that “the default answer to development will be Yes.” This has attracted sharp and sustained criticism from groups such as the National Trust and the Campaign to Protect Rural England (CPRE), which has labelled the new framework a potential “developers’ charter”.

They are alarmed that the pledge to protect the countryside for its intrinsic value, which has been part of the modern planning system since its inception in 1947, has been dropped in the new framework, as has the presumption that brownfield or derelict, former industrial sites, should be built on before greenfield land in the countryside.

The removal of specific protection for the best agricultural land is part of the shift and was criticised by the CPRE yesterday.

“It’s a good example of how the NPPF is all about the short-term economics and not about the longer-term issues like food security or what we want the countryside to be for,” said a CPRE spokesman.

“We think that strong protection for best quality agricultural land should be an absolutely critical part of sustainable development, given that such land is a finite resource and the pressure on food and farming from wider global pressures of climate change and population growth.

“We find it astonishing that the Government appears to be reneging on the Conservative pledge to strengthen such protection.”

Prince Britain’s Charles on soil, sustainability and the unity of all things

Cover of "The Garden at Highgrove"

Cover of The Garden at Highgrove

Fron The Guardian blogs – Some commenters can’t distinguish their understandable contempt of royalty with the commonsense that Charles embodies in his agricultural philosophy concerning sustainability; its refreshing to have a person with so high a profile (even if that is an accident of birth) who is so supremely connected to the fundamentals of life.

By The Observer’s Tim Adams 

There is a sign as you turn into the drive at Highgrove that reads: “Beware. You are entering an old-fashioned establishment”. After the best part of the week following the sign’s owner, Prince Charles, around the country – from Dartmoor to the Yorkshire Dales and back to Gloucestershire, him mostly in a helicopter, me mostly on a train – I have been struggling to work out exactly how old that “old-fashioned” is.

There has been a strong whiff of the early 1930s about a lot of it. At the bunting-festooned Great Yorkshire Show, HRH has been touring pig pens and tasting pork pies carrying a shepherd’s crook and surrounded by red-faced men in bowler hats. You half expected William Brown and the Outlaws to emerge from under a trestle table. At other times, though, as he has mused on the latent spirituality in hedgerows, we could be at the Wordsworthian beginning of the 19th century before steam engines and progress came along to ruin everything. The prince is frankly unapologetic about this. More than once I hear him say: “People think what I’m doing is about going backwards.” The implied subtext is: “And what on earth could be wrong with that?”

The occasion of this particular bout of time travel has been the inaugural National Countryside week, created to coincide with the first anniversary of the Prince’s Countryside Fund. The fund is designed to reweave some of the fabric frayed by urbanisation and industrialised farming; to encourage big agriculture-related business to support the rural communities that supply it and to attempt to reconnect city-dwelling families with farming and food production. Like all of the prince’s work, this is heartfelt, highly ambitious, energetically pursued on many fronts and beset with more than a few contradictions. He seems to feel both inspired and fated to have taken it on: “If I didn’t do it, who would?” he asks me, in passing.

At two events at Highgrove, during Countryside Week, the prince lays out the thinking behind the fund. At the first, a party to celebrate a spirited organisation called Garden Organic, which promotes urban horticulture, he politely declines his vice-president Raymond Blanc‘s invitation to join him in a chorus of the Marseillaise for Bastille Day and goes on instead to talk with some fervour about our role in the grand scheme of things. “Somehow we have been told, because of the entire education system and the current world view, that we can just go on depleting nature and exploiting it as we want to,” he suggests. “We need to reconnect young people with where their food comes from. We need them to grow something and eat it and not just get it from a clingfilm packet…”

The next day, meeting delegates from the Royal Agricultural College conference, he comes face to face with the clingfilm-loving head buyers from Sainsbury’s and Waitrose, as well as a range of farmers and foresters. Working groups are divided into four: “Trees”, “Upland/Lowland”, “Integration”, “Spirituality”. You have the sense they are talking the prince’s language. On a chair an important bit bigger than everyone else’s, he sets out where he is coming from. “As a child I remember very well that we pulled up our hedgerows and knocked down the centre of our towns,” he says. “There was this slash and burn philosophy. It just seemed to me to be insane. You push at nature and nature gives you an equal but opposite push back.”

The prince is almost reflexively self-deprecating – the first words he utters to me, on day two of our grandish tour, are: “I do hope all this isn’t boring you too much” – but he also insists on claiming the slightly martyrish role of the prophet misunderstood in his native land. He has stood firm, and definitely not Canute-like, as the tide of opinion has gone against him. He insisted on organics when all about him were up to the tops of their wellies in chemicals.

“I just,” he tells the Royal Agricultural College meeting, “wanted to be a repository for all the things that were being thrown away.” To this end he became patron of the Rare Breeds Trust, ensuring native animal breeds were not lost; and he has lately bought a fruit trial centre “where we now have 1,000 apple trees of 1,000 different varieties”.

“In the media,” he says, with a slightly withering glance in my direction, “they would no doubt describe this as me jumping from one bleeding subject to another.” He has no choice in this, though, he is a fighter of fires, and if he didn’t do it, who would?

I’m invited to walk with him through the garden at Highgrove where he expands on this thinking. This chat is eavesdropped by a private secretary, a press officer and a couple of minders, making sure he or I do not stray off-message. Still, strolling in his extraordinary garden, he seems relaxed enough, one hand in the pocket of his pale grey suit, a homegrown cornflower in his buttonhole. I wonder why he thinks as a nation we still give so little space to rural issues?

His sense, he says, is that “in the five or six generations that we have departed from the land a divide has grown up”. He characterises that divide not just between urban and rural values, but also within individuals. “We behave one way in our business lives and another in our homes,” he says (not, I’m pretty sure, on this occasion, employing the royal we), “and between our interior and our exterior.”

A large part of the Highgrove garden is a kind of Cotswold-Asian fusion. Some ornately carved gates the prince brought back from India have been set into a little pagoda made of local stone; at another shrine, which I’m told used to display a bust of Ted Hughes, there is now a head of the late Queen Mother emerging from a kind of sunburst. The prince talks animatedly of the unity of all things.

It’s quite Buddhist all this, I suggest. Isn’t it?

By way of an answer the heir to the throne asks: “Have you read my book Harmony?”

Of course not, I don’t say.

In one corner of the garden is the temple-like folly of a hut to which he retreats when he is here – every man needs a shed. He does his thinking there. The idea for the Countryside Fund came, though, he explains, when he was staying with friends in Cumbria. “Everyone has their favourite B&B,” he suggests, “and mine belongs to Joe and Hazel Relph in Borrowdale”. The prince first met the Relphs – upland sheep farmers – when foot and mouth had devastated Cumbria in 2001. He has, he says, been back to visit and sometimes stay every year since. A couple of years ago over supper, Joe Relph was telling him about the issues farmers like him faced. In the previous year British hill farmers had made an average loss of £3,000. The average age of a farmer was 58 and, with no incentive for sons and daughters to take on the work, skills were no longer being passed on. “They had lived that life for hundreds and hundreds of years,” the prince says, “we can’t just get rid of it for ever.” I speak to Relph later by phone: “It’s the way of life as much as the farming that he always wants to know about,” he tells me. “Always the way one thing depends on another…”

To date, the dozen or so major donors to the Prince’s Countryside Fund – one of which is his own Duchy Originals – have contributed around £1.5m in grants to projects devoted to that interdependency, including apprenticeship schemes to train young hill farmers. The Countryside Fund comes with a kind of kitemark, but it appears all you have to do to stamp one on your pasties (if you are Ginsters) or your burger boxes (if you are McDonald’s) is to demonstrate something of a commitment to British farming and put a bit of cash in. The fact that global corporations and the buying habits of some supermarkets may be contributing to the problems of small and sustainable farmers doesn’t seem to register or is accepted as a necessary evil.

There are further ironies – the ecologist helicoptering around arguing the virtues of shire horses – but the prince, as it were, ploughs on in good faith, with his special brand of touring theatre. In the course of my week in his shadow, I watch him discussing the hardships of moorland farming at a Duchy farm in Devon, in the company of a Dartmoor pony with an enormous erection waiting to get back to his mares. I see him stand in the middle of a circle of six men in suits talking earnestly, sir, about the special quality of their biomass and emissions. I see him tap a dutiful foot at an enthusiastic troupe playing on homemade “utterly-butterly ukuleles”. The prince gets through most of this with two dependable expressions, a nudge, nudge conspiratorial look, and a lairy grin that looks as if it might precede a clap on the back or a flick with a wet towel, but never does.

The strongest argument that the prince makes for his methods and philosophy, though, is a tour of Highgrove and Home Farm. Doubters are invited to behold the willow beds into which the royal lavatories empty, and the miraculous clear water that eventually results. David Wilson is the prince’s inspiring representative on earth at Home Farm, a vicar’s son trained in “ICI farming” who has seen the light of organics and sustainability. If you wanted evidence that the prince talks sense on those subjects you would visit the glorious fields of red clover, by which Wilson fixes nitrogen in the soil, as a rotation crop. Or you would look at the Welsh lambs grazing, as fat and white as any sheep I have seen. Or you would visit the orchard of 1,000 apple varieties weighed down with fruit, or the sustainable larch wood that supplies all the timber for farm buildings and the chippings for the boiler.

The prince’s current obsession is with the overuse of antibiotics in cattle. His herd routinely produces milk for six or seven lactations, while in some industrial farms they are lucky to get more than two. The prince, Wilson says, is never happier than when he is laying hedgerows in the traditional way – he takes me to see a stretch of hawthorn made by royal appointment. You imagine the hedge laying is a good metaphor for what the prince hopes his fund might make a start at achieving, the weaving of disparate elements leading to sustainable growth.

He may be concerned with the spiritual connections behind this fabric, but he is also attuned to the politics. In his garden he is keen to emphasise to me the importance of protecting and developing Pillar 2 of the European Common Agricultural Policy, which links subsidy with sustainable rural community.

“The thing is,” he says, summing up an argument at one point, “we need to be examining our souls a little more.” Or at least I think he said that. It might have been “soils”. But in any case, in his eyes, I guess, the two words are pretty much interchangeable.

Badger cull update : ‘Culls don’t stop tuberculosis in cattle – the evidence is clear’

Source : http://www.stopthecull.info/

The government is ignoring scientists’ advice on bovine TB – killing badgers is not the solution. This blog writer agrees… ‘The Guardian’ updates.  

Members of the public who may know little about farming – or wildlife – could be forgiven for thinking that farmers‘ lives are being ruined bybadgers.

It is a message being peddled by the farming press, by some – but not all – farmers, and even by the BBC’s Countryfile programme. They say that thousands of cattle are being slaughtered every year (30,000 in 2010) because of bovine tuberculosis (bTB) – an airborne respiratory disease – at enormous cost to farmers and the taxpayer: £100m last year. This much is true. They also say that bTB is being passed to cattle by badgers. This I dispute, based on evidence from those who know better than me – scientists.

Those of us who want to protect badgers from such bad press are forced on to the defensive. Particularly now, as the government has said it is “minded” to authorise a massive cull of badgers in an effort to control bTB.

It wasn’t always like this. Bovine TB was almost eradicated by 1970, when there were only about 1,000 cases. Eleven years of localised badger culling failed to reduce the toll further. But the end of annual cattle testing in the mid-80s, and the devastating effects of BSE and foot-and-mouth disease, when testing was abandoned altogether, meant that many farms lost thousands of animals, and afterward there was a rush to restock. Regulations were relaxed, so cattle were bought and sold and – crucially – moved all over the country. Bovine tuberculosis was back. These relaxations of the movement and testing regimes – not badgers – were to blame.

So, to the question of whether badgers are responsible for increasing infection rates in cattle. If they are, how have cattle remained free of bTB in Scotland, where no badgers have been killed? Why do they have it in the Isle of Man, where there are no badgers? And why are bTB rates twice as high in Ireland, where so many badgers have been killed that they are extinct in many areas?

Could it be possible that cattle are infecting badgers? After all, cattle far outnumber badgers – 9 million cattle to, at most, a quarter of a million badgers.

George Pearce, a wildlife consultant, used to be a farmer. In his new book, Badger Behaviour, Conservation and Rehabilitation: 70 Years of Getting to Know Badgers, he explains how his family’s farm, which always had badger setts on it, managed to remain free of bTB from 1950 to 2008, when the herd was dispersed.

Since the 1930s, there have been four important measures used to combat bTB: very strict movement controls, thorough cleansing of livestock buildings, good ventilation and double fencing on all boundaries to prevent cattle in adjoining fields from exchanging saliva.

Pearce says that if we want to solve this crisis, we should be talking about cattle, not badgers.

Aside from these measures, he suggests that we look at the bloodlines of our cattle. All bulls, whether used naturally or artificially, should have blood tests to assess their susceptibility to bTB. The reduced gene pool of bulls over the past 60 years could be contributing to the problem.

Cattle that were largely bTB-free in the 60s and 70s, he adds – mostly British breeds – have gradually been replaced by continental breeds. Are they less resistant?

What’s more, cattle are bred much more intensively now, and bTB is known to be a stress-related disease.

What about dietary deficiencies? Dick Roper in Gloucestershire was anxious to find out why one of his farms was hit by bTB when his others were not. On the affected farm, the cattle were fed on maize, which badgers also love. But maize lacks selenium, a mineral that – in humans and livestock – is necessary to maintain a strong immune system. So, Roper introduced selenium mineral licks for his cattle, and for the badgers on his land – to the amusement of his neighbours – and cured his problem, despite all the farms around him becoming infected. Are cattle getting bTB because their immune system is compromised?

In the past two years, improved cattle testing, biosecurity and movement controls in England have led to a 15% reduction in the rates of bTB infection. In Wales, during the same period, the number of cattle slaughtered because of bTB has fallen by 36%, and by 45% in Dyfed. The Welsh Assembly Government had proposed a cull, before being forced to drop the plan.

And this, without a single badger being culled – despite the fact that a few rogue farmers have been swapping the ID tags of cattle so that valuable animals with bTB were, illegally, kept on farms, while healthy, but less valuable, ones were sent to slaughter in their place.

David Williams, the Badger Trust‘s chairman, said in April:

“The effect of these offences is apparent: the guilty parties are harbouring and spreading disease by keeping infected cattle on farms. The cattle-based measures now in place depend absolutely on effective movement controls, honest and accurate record keeping and discipline. They have been producing heartening results without killing a single badger, particularly in Wales. However, if badger culling had been introduced last year, these improvements would have been claimed as ‘proof’ that culling had been necessary.”

Meanwhile, the statistics about the number of cattle slaughtered every year because of bTB, and the amount this costs, have been very visible in the media, but no one mentions the other causes of premature slaughter.

In 2009, 120,000 cattle were slaughtered because they were infertile. In 2008, 75,000 were slaughtered because they were “not in calf”; 50,000 because of mastitis; 25,000 because of lameness; and 7,000 because they were “low yield”. Not to mention the male dairy calves that are killed at birth because they are unprofitable. Compare these figures with the 30,000 with bTB that are slaughtered.

No one mentions these because they are not caused by wildlife. Several factors, including bad luck and bad husbandry, are at play. Farmers receive no compensation for these animals. They accept these losses as an unfortunate part of their livelihood – there is no one to blame.

Last year, the government announced a public consultation on whether we should have a cull. It ended in December, but the results had not been made public. Why not? A request for the information under the Freedom of Information Act was turned down because the Department for Environment, Food and Rural Affairs said releasing the information “would affect their policy”. Isn’t that what a consultation is meant to do? They have, however, now included the results as part of another consultation, which closes on 20 September. Those figures show that, of those who responded, 69% would not want to cull and 31% were in favour of culling but alongside vaccination. Not exactly a resounding endorsement of the government’s proposals.

In other polls, too, the public have made their opposition clear: 97% against in a 2007 poll for the Labour government; 68%, both rural and urban, against in a recent BBC poll90.9% against in a Guardian poll in July. Even a recent poll by Countryfile, which largely has a farming audience, polled more than 60% against a cull.

Would badger culling help? The answer is no. And to support this conclusion, we need only look back at the evidence of the Krebs trial, a massive pilot cull of badgers over 10 years between 1997 and 2007, overseen by the Independent Scientific Group (ISG). It is a well-worn argument, but it bears repeating: the trial showed that bTB in the culling area was reduced only marginally. Outside the culling area, it actually rose, a result of what is called perturbation, where badgers who have survived a cull spread out to escape danger. This behaviour does not occur in any other species. The conclusion of this massive trial was that “culling can make no meaningful contribution to the reduction of bTB”.

In the weeks leading up to the government’s latest announcement, seven former members of the ISG wrote a letter to the Times opposing a proposed cull. They included Lord Krebs, who designed the 10-year trial and is now chairman of the House of Lords science and technology select committee, Professor John Bourne, the ISG’s chairman, and Dr Chris Cheeseman, the principal scientist for many years at Defra’s Woodchester Park study area in Gloucestershire, where farmers themselves were involved in research into badgers, cattle and bTB. They said there was “no empirical data on the cost or effectiveness (or indeed humaneness or safety) of controlling badgers by shooting, which has been illegal for decades”.

In early July, Lord Krebs said: “The trial evidence should be interpreted as an argument against culling. You cull intensively for at least four years, you will have a net benefit of reducing TB in cattle of 12% to 16%. So you leave 85% of the problem still there.”

It seems their arguments have fallen on deaf ears. Make no mistake, this is an argument the government does not want to hear.

If bTB is in decline, why is the government not saying this in public? This lack of openness appears to vindicate those who believe that a decision to cull is a matter of political expediency, to secure the farmers’ vote, and is not based on the available evidence.

But those of us who have an interest in all animals, whether wild or farmed, are tired of badgers being the scapegoat.

Badger Update : Campaigners aim to stop badger cull

A campaign group which helped force the Government into an embarrassing u-turn over plans to sell off forests has set its sights on stopping a planned cull of badgers. The Independent on Sunday reports

The Government announced earlier this month that it would press ahead with issuing licences to shoot the wild animals in a bid to eradicate bovine tuberculosis (BTb) threatening cattle herds and costing farmers millions of pounds in lost sales.

The move has attracted criticism from animal rights groups and others after it was reported that the Government’s own advisors warned that it may not be effective.

Now campaign group 38 Degrees, which got 532,000 people to sign its Save Our Forests petition to derail the coalition’s woodland sell-off earlier this year, has joined those fighting the cull.

The group is not opposing a cull outright but questions whether it is the most effective way of tackling the spread of BTb, with 87% of members polled saying they should oppose it. More than 13,000 people have signed a petition in the last few days.

Writing on the group’s blog, campaigner Marie Campbell wrote: “Some of us believe killing badgers would be wrong under any circumstances. Some of us believe that if the science really proved that shooting badgers could make a real dent in the cow TB problem, it would be a tragic necessity.

“But 87% of us agree on this: the government’s current plans to shoot England‘s badgers simply don’t stack up. The government’s own scientific advisers warn that it won’t solve the problem of TB in cattle, and could even make it worse.”

Environment secretary Caroline Spelman, who shouldered much of the blame for the u-turn over forests, launched the badger cull on July 19, saying BTb would cost farmers in England alone £1 billion over the next decade if action was not taken.

The Department for Environment, Food and Rural Affairs (Defra) claims that nearly 25,000 cattle were slaughtered in England in 2010 because of the disease, costing the country £90 million.

It is especially a problem for farmers in the west and south west of England, with Defra claiming 23% of cattle farms in these areas were unable to move stock off their premises at some point in 2010 due to being affected by the disease.

There is a vaccine that could be used to halt the spread of the disease but Mrs Spelman said there were “serious practical difficulties” with it.

“This terrible disease is getting worse, and we’ve got to deal with the devastating impact it has on farmers and rural communities. There’s also the effect on the farming economy and taxpayers,” she said.

“We cannot go on like this. Many farmers are desperate and feel unable to control the disease in their herds. And we know that unless we tackle the disease in badgers we will never be able to eradicate it in cattle.

“We are working hard to develop a cattle vaccine and an oral badger vaccine, but a usable and approved cattle vaccine and oral badger vaccine are much further away than we thought and we can’t say with any certainty if and when they will be ready. We simply can’t afford to keep waiting.”

An early day motion opposing the cull and asking Mrs Spelman to rethink the plans, tabled by Newport West Labour MP Paul Flynn in March, has so far been signed by 82 MPs. The majority are Labour and Liberal Democrats, with Peter Bottomley (Worthing West) the sole Conservative MP to sign it.

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Greener pastures: How cows could help in the fight against climate change

On the 300 square mile Jornada Experimental Ra...

Image via Wikipedia

Conservation: What goes on in the stomachs and under the hooves of cows might be the key to turning deserts back into grasslands. The Guardian’s Judith D Schwartz explains

In reports of rising CO2 levels, it’s easy to get the impression that the carbon-and-oxygen molecule is a kind of toxin, some alien vapor coughed up by a century-plus of heedless industrialism now coming back to haunt us. But on closer inspection, it seems that the problem isn’t the carbon itself—it’s that there’s too much in the air and not enough in the ground.

When we consider our CO2 predicament, we tend to fault our love affair with the car and the fruits of industry. But the greater culprit has beenagriculture: since about 1850, twice as much atmospheric CO2 has derived from farming practices as from the burning of fossil fuels (the roles crossed around 1970). Over the past 150 years, between 50 and 80 percent of organic carbon in the topsoil has vanished into the air, and seven tons of carbon-banking topsoil have been lost for every ton of grain produced.

So, how do we get that carbon out of the air and back into the soil? Some suggest placing calcium carbonate or charcoal (aka “biochar”) directly into agricultural soil (see “Black Is the New Green,” Conservation, Summer 2010). But a growing number of soil and agricultural scientists are also discussing a low-tech, counterintuitive approach to the problem that depends on a group of unlikely heroes: cows. The catalyst for reducing CO2 and restoring soil function and fertility, they say, is bringing back the roving, grazing animals who used to wander the world’s grasslands. The natural processes that take place in the digestive system and under the hooves of ruminants might be the key to turning deserts back into grasslands and reversing climate change. In other words, a climate-friendly future might look less like a geo-engineered landscape and more like, well, “Home on the Range.”

Perhaps the most steadfast advocate of this future is Allan Savory. A 76-year-old native of Zimbabwe, Savory has the relaxed, weathered look of a lifelong outdoorsman more attuned to the etiquette of the bush than that of the boardroom. In the 1960s, as a young wildlife biologist in what was then called Southern Rhodesia, he noticed that, when livestock were removed from land set aside for future national parks, “almost immediately, these wonderful areas suffered severe loss of both plant and animal species.” Cattle, he began to realize, could play—if properly managed—the crucial role in grassland ecology that used to be occupied by herds of wild herbivores. They could help prevent and even reverse land degradation and the desertification of grasslands, combating in the process both human poverty and the disappearance of wildlife. Over the course of several eventful decades—during which he was elected to the parliament, served as an opposition leader against Rhodesia’s white-minority government, and spent four years in political exile—Savory developed a program to put these ideas into action.

Savory’s singular insight is that grasslands and herbivores evolved in lockstep with one another. This means that to be healthy, grasses need to be grazed. Animals eat plants and stimulate their growth; they cycle dead plants back to the surface, which allows sunlight to reach the low-growing parts; their waste provides fertilizer. When a predator—say, a lion—comes into this bucolic scene, the animals bunch together and flee as a herd, their hooves breaking up and aerating the soil. Then, on a new patch of land, the process starts again. This way all plants get nibbled, but none are overgrazed. And none are overrested, which leads to accumulated dead plant material that blocks sunlight and hinders new growth.

To Savory, the conventional wisdom that grazing degrades the land is an oversimplification; what matters is how livestock are applied. He readily acknowledges that the confined animal feeding operations usually associated with large-scale cattle ranching are problematic, and he opposes cramming cattle into lots on industrial farms. But he contends that this degradation by overgrazing is a matter of time rather than numbers; he’s fond of saying that one cow continually foraging in one spot will do damage where a hundred moving from place to place will not. Where feedlots will harm the land, he claims, herds of well-managed grazing animals, nibbling on native grasses and roaming from spot to spot to elude predators and seek fresh pasture—managed in a way that mimics their behavior in the wild—will restore the land’s natural dynamics.

For years, many in the academic and ranching establishment dismissed Savory as a gadfly, someone outside the agricultural and scholarly mainstream who did his research in the open air and presented his counterintuitive conclusions in unscientific language. Undeterred, Savory continued to refine his framework and expand his training programs, and today his successes have become hard to ignore. Farmers, ranchers, and other land stewards who have attended his training programs have brought land back from the brink across Africa, Australia, New Zealand, and the U.S. In 2010, his Zimbabwe nonprofit, the Africa Centre for Holistic Management, received a $4.8 million grant from the United States Agency for International Development (USAID) to expand its work in Africa. More recently, Savory won the 2010 Buckminster Fuller Challenge prize, a prestigious award that supports a proposal with “significant potential to solve humanity’s most pressing problems.”

The centerpiece of Savory’s work is the 2,630-hectare Dimbangombe Ranch in northwestern Zimbabwe near Victoria Falls, home to his Africa Centre for Holistic Management. In the hot, dry, depleted landscape of this region, “the rains are not what they used to be” is a frequent refrain. But Dimbangombe looks as though it’s been uniquely favored by the rain gods. It has lush, varied grasses, flowing rivers and streams, and thriving livestock—some four times the number of neighboring ranches. Thanks to the renewed flow of the Dimbangombe River, elephant herds no longer have to travel to pools but can water on the river. Women who used to walk as much as five kilometers daily for water now have it available in their communities. Dimbangombe has become productive and vibrant while its neighbors, and similar environments around the globe, are turning to desert. How? “Two things: we brought in increased cattle numbers with holistic planned grazing, and [we] minimized the fires,” says Savory.

The Dimbangombe experiment began in 1992, when Savory donated land he had purchased in the 1970s to develop the ranch as a nonprofit demonstration site. (A larger parcel of land owned by Savory is now the Kazuma Pan National Park, part of the five-nation Transfrontier Conservation Area.) In the early days, when funds were tight, he generally camped on the land. Even now, Savory and his wife, Jody Butterfield, director of development at the Centre, live in a mud-and-thatch hut on the riverbank. Savory says this is “not a hardship, as I have lived much of my life like this and simply enjoy living amongst Africa’s big game and wildlife more than in a house.”

As the ranch grew, Savory and his colleagues ran cattle on the land, beginning with what they could afford. “We also invited farmers in the neighboring community who had run out of feed to add their cattle to the herd,” Butterfield says. “They needed to keep their animals alive, and we needed numbers to restore the land. Sometimes we had 600 cattle, sometimes 300. We kept them constantly on the move.”

The other key intervention, creating firebreaks, put a stop to uncontrolled clearing fires and to fires set by animal poachers, who sometimes torch the grass to obliterate their tracks. These woodland and grassland fires, Butterfield says, can go on for hundreds of miles. “Africa is burning to death, many parts of it,” adds Savory. “809 million hectares of grassland are burned annually. The reason we’re burning them is that there are not enough herbivores to keep the grass alive.” What he means is that fires are used to clear decaying plant material and promote fresh growth—functions that grazing herbivores are uniquely equipped to do better. Savory contends that planned grassland fires cause numerous problems, including leaving exposed soil (which oxidizes and leads to runoff) and promoting fire-dependent plant species over the more diverse and soil-enriching grasses that animals eat. Another result of grassland fires is added atmospheric CO2. In one hour, says Savory, a half-hectare fire pumps as much CO2 and other pollutants into the air as 4,000 car trips.

With these strategies applied in Dimbangombe, “each year things got better and better,” Butterfield recalls. “Gradually over the years, the grass was thickening up and the ground would close in, covered with plants. Then we started noticing, ‘oh, the wetlands are expanding along the upper reaches of the river.’ We started seeing sedges and reeds growing many yards up from the riverbanks and could now see a huge swath that was becoming wetland. In the past few years especially, it’s been quite dramatic.”

Allan Savory, in his laconic way, makes it all sound elementary. “All we’ve done really is make the rainfall more effective.” Parched and unproductive regions throughout the world are not necessarily suffering from less rain, he says. The problem is that the water leaves too quickly, through runoff or evaporation from bare soil. Water needs to infiltrate and remain in the soil, entering the stream and river system, and leave only through plant growth or by entering aquifers. “All of this we’re doing with the livestock,” says Savory. “We keep operating on sound scientific principle, enhancing the organic matter and porosity of the soil, and keeping water in the system.”

The key to improving water conditions lies in the carbon cycle. In Savory’s words, “The fate of carbon and water tend to follow each other.” Carbon in the soil acts as a giant sponge, keeping rain water in the ground rather than allowing it to stream off. “Every one-percent increase in soil carbon holds an additional 60,000 gallons of water per acre,” says Steven Apfelbaum, founder of Applied Ecological Services, Inc., a landscape-restoration company based in Brodhead, Wisconsin. “This means reduced erosion and sedimentation and downstream flooding.”

Desertification—and associated problems such as flooding, wildfires, and water shortages—can be seen as a symptom of the carbon cycle gone awry, says Savory. In the same way that plants need animals, as seen in the relationship between ruminants and grasses, soil needs plants. “For soil to form, it needs to be living, and to be living, soil needs to be covered,” says Australian scientist Christine Jones. Without a cover of plants in various stages of growth and decomposition, much of the carbon oxidizes and enters the atmosphere as CO2.

So soil carbon has huge implications for climate change. Rattan Lal, Distinguished Professor of soil science in the School of Environment and Natural Resources at Ohio State University, estimates that soil-carbon restoration can potentially store about one billion tons of atmospheric carbon per year. This means that the soil could effectively offset around one-third of human-generated emissions annually absorbed in the atmosphere. Building soil carbon would also enhance food production; and, because carbon-rich soil holds significantly more water than its dried-out counterpart, it would help to secure watersheds and protect against flooding and drought.

“I teach my students that the goal [in agriculture] is to produce a positive carbon budget: the amount of carbon returned to the land should be more than the amount that is leaving the land,” says Lal, noting that soil-carbon levels worldwide are dropping wherever extractive farming is practiced. He says much of Africa, Asia, and parts of Central Asia have soils which contain as little as 0.1 percent carbon, whereas the minimum for functionality is 1.5 percent to two percent. Savory’s model, he says, offers valuable insight on how to increase soil-carbon levels and therefore increase fertility.

Despite his evident successes, Savory still occupies an equivocal position in the ranching and agricultural world. His methods have stirred surprising passions not only among farmers and ranchers who have used them with success but also among skeptics and detractors, who have called them “hocus-pocus” and “more religious belief than science.” Savory himself has been likened to “the Wizard of Oz”—big on fanfare, empty of real ideas.

This may be as much about delivery as about science. Part of the resistance stems from the far-reaching nature of Savory’s claims. Some skeptics who might be receptive to his ideas in the realm of animal husbandry balk at proclamations of a total “paradigm shift” with the ambition to rethink agriculture from the ground up. Others associate the language of his programs—”holistic management,” “holistic decision-making”—with a New Age sensibility that seems unscientific. Then there’s the inevitable resistance to new ideas, especially ones that bypass established business and technological systems. Apfelbaum says that most practitioners who balk at holistic management “simply are skeptical of change from their status quo and ‘the way ranching has always been done.’”

Another factor is that Savory’s system is less a recipe than a way of understanding the land. This means that even when his methods work, it can be hard to know exactly what prompts success. George Wuerthner, a photographer and author who has written extensively about western landscapes, says, “One thing Savory’s methodology does is make ranchers pay more attention to what they’re doing on the land. That may help in and of itself, regardless of the ecological assertions, which I don’t buy.”

Some ecologists are also concerned by the impression that Savory promotes “bring in the cows” as a one-size-fits-all panacea. These critics often conflate planned holistic grazing, which involves continual monitoring and adjustment, with more formulaic grazing strategies such as “short intensive grazing” (scheduled on-off grazing cycles) and, the latest craze, “mob grazing” (very large herds moved several times a day). “Grasslands are tremendously diverse,” says Jason Neff, associate professor of geological sciences at the University of Colorado at Boulder. “Some have been grazed for thousands of years, and some not at all. You need to look at the cultural and ecological history of a place. I work in semi-arid lands that are sensitive to grazing. For example, the Colorado plateau—increase grazing out there, and the land will suffer.”

Savory himself does not claim that his methods are equally applicable everywhere. They must take the specific local ecology into account and are best suited to what he calls “brittle environments,” parts of the world that are dry most of the year, with seasonal rainfall. These areas are less forgiving of land management problems than are more temperate regions: “If, say, England had the climate of Israel, it would have desertified,” he says. “The dry periods show up the faults [in how the land is managed].” But given that the grassland, rangeland, and savanna—where holistic management is most successful—cover two-thirds of the world’s landmass, the potential of his ideas is still vast.

The strength of Savory’s ideas may derive from the fact that he brings an outsider’s eye—even a poet’s eye—to environmental cycles. (Nature writer Gretel Ehrlich, who has spent time with Savory in the African bush, calls him “the best observer of wildlife I’ve ever met.”) Seen from a holistic perspective, the secret of Dimbangombe is no secret. It simply required looking back to the land’s prehistory—and learning a management principle from no management at all.

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