Livestock reverse desertification

There’s something delicious about received wisdom being overturned. For example, you’ll hear it said, categorically, that livestock turn fragile landscapes into desert; they eat the plants binding the soil, and their hooves cut up the surface and promote erosion. But it ain’t necessarily so.

Operation Hope, a Zimbabwean NGO and winners of $100,000 Grand Prize in the Buckminster Fuller Challenge, has

[T]ransformed 6,500 acres of of parched and degraded grasslands in Zimbabwe into lush pastures replete with ponds and flowing streams – even during periods of drought.

The quote is from a write-up in Seed magazine, which gives lots of details of the story. In essence, the key to livestock and grasslands is time, not numbers. If animals are on the land too long, their hooves do indeed powder the soil and they do overgraze. But if they are free to move on, or are moved by herders, moderate trampling allows rain to percolate into the soil, rather than run off and cause erosion. It also improves contact between seeds and soil, promoting germination. And dung and urine return plant matter to the soil to increase fertility and sequester more carbon, without becoming pollutants.

Operation Hope grazes animals in one spot for a maximum of three days, and they do not return for at least nine months, mimicking the natural movements of large herbivores on the savannah. At night they are protected from predators in portable kraals, which are also mobile to prevent a build-up of dung and urine. The effects are impressive. (“Animal-treated” field on the right, conventionally managed field on the left. Image courtesy Buckminster Fuller Institute”)

What’s interesting, and this is explored in much more detail in the Seed article, is that this kind of ecosystem thinking, which requires human knowledge and ingenuity to tackle complex problems, could have applications well beyond range management. Allan Savory, the scientist behind Operation Hope and the Africa Centre for Holistic Management, is hard on the Green Revolution.

“We posit the necessity of a new ‘Brown Revolution’, based on the regeneration of covered, organically rich, biologically thriving soil, and brought to fruition via millions of human beings returning to the land and the production of food.”

Of course, that’s hard work. But it is also surely much more interesting and fulfilling.

How many varieties are there in the world, mom?

Back at the day job, we are often asked by journalists and others how many different types, or varieties, of this or that crop there are in a country, or indeed the world. And, with help from our friendly crop experts, we have tried to provide answers. But it is as well to remind ourselves sometimes how slippery the question is. Because, to paraphrase Bill Clinton, it really does depend on what your definitions of “different” and “variety” are. For example, take rice in a particular part of Thailand, as the authors of a recent paper in GRACE did. 1

They looked at 20 accessions of a single landrace, defined as a “geographically and ecologically distinctive population, identifiable by unique morphologies and well-established local name.” That is, these 20 samples, though collected from different farmers and even villages, all basically looked the same, and were recognized as belonging to the same type by farmers, who gave them all the same name — Muey Nawng.

But the authors found significant, non-random, patterned variation within the material, not only in microsatellite markers, which wouldn’t perhaps be so bad, but also in endosperm starch type, days to heading and, interestingly, gall midge resistance. So how many varieties were there among the 20 samples of Muey Nawng? Answers on a postcard, please.

Great Place of Complete Joy, and landraces

The Gandantegchinlen (meaning Great Place of Complete Joy) Monastery in Ulaan Baatar features a 25 metre tall statue called Migjid Janraisig, “the Lord who looks in every direction.” The original was built in the early 20th century in an effort to restore the sight of Bogd Javzandamba, the eighth Jebtsundamba, spiritual head of Tibetan Buddhism in Mongolia. The statue was dismantled and taken away by the Soviets in 1938, but it was rebuilt in 1996 with donations from the Mongolian people. The statue is gilded solid copper. Well, almost solid. Precious cultural materials are encased within it. Including seeds of dozens of the country’s wheat landraces, according to my friends at the national genebank in Darkhan.