How we caused ‘aphid apocalypse’

Originally published September 24, 2009.

Like any good apocalypse scenario, our aphid-caused end of the world may really be our own fault.

I know, the idea of an “aphid apocalypse” is a bit melodramatic. But I’m starting to believe that we’ve summoned the annoying swarms of soybean aphids—or at the very least, given them the freedom to multiply into the endless clouds of them we’ve seen in Champaign-Urbana in the last week.

Many have expressed the sentiment that the aphid situation has not been this bad in the last several years. Large numbers of Buffalo gnats have presented more serious complications in Illinois for a couple of summers because they can do more than annoy humans: they bite, and that biting can cause fatal allergic reactions in chickens, drawing the concern of local poultry farmers.

Another irritating pest has been a notable problem in soybean country, coinciding with this period of decreased aphid population. Asian lady beetles, brought into the United States in the seventies and eighties, have drawn the ire of many Midwesterners.

True to their name, the beetles look like the native species of ladybugs we know and love. They vary in color from red to orange and—if you remember anything about ladybugs from fourth-grade science—they love to eat aphids, which explains why they were brought to the U.S.

Though they can establish lodging in many varieties of plants, Asian lady beetles don’t eat any of the ones important to farmers. Grape growers have complained of accidentally mashing them with fruit during the winemaking process, but they don’t seem to cause widespread damage to crops.

Unfortunately, Asian lady beetles tend to swarm houses during autumn in search of places to weather the coming winter. They also release a disgusting-smelling yellow goo if you squash them. Despite the beneficial purpose for their importation by American agriculturists, everyone else seems to hate them.

Part of the reason for their appearance in the U.S. is the decline of the native ladybug population, which has had both entomologists and farmers scratching their heads. The void they left in the aphid-eating chain was quickly filled by the Asian lady beetles, and their proliferation might have further contributed to native ladybugs’ disappearance.

As previously mentioned, news and pest information sources have taken to warning people in advance of Asian lady beetles’ annual residential siege. And when non-human animals get too numerous, we start our usual plotting of ways to obliterate them, our current dilemma being no exception.

So, if we’re killing off Asian lady beetles that we brought in for pest control and which may have contributed to the drastic shrinkage of the native ladybug population, what’s the problem?

Maybe it’s the one we’re dealing with right now.

An article in the News-Gazette on Tuesday covering the soybean aphid migration mentioned that the Asian lady beetle has not been able to rival aphids’ ability to procreate this year, but provided no clues as to why. I wonder…

In the process of spraying for other things and keeping them out of our homes (in which they don’t eat anything, unlike moths, crickets, and carpenter ants), maybe we’ve dealt their population as great a hit as we have our native spotted friends.

No ladybugs and no Asian lady beetles mean many, many more aphids than we’ve seen in the past. My initial aggravation at their presence has been drained away by my impression that, well, we asked for it. The mass migration of the soybean aphids through C-U is a jab of encouragement for us to wonder if it’s really worth it to keep up our current model of pesticide-heavy farming, our tendency toward hermetically-sealed homes, and our vendetta against every other living creature on the planet.

So, as aphids forcibly cause your eyes to water, I ask that you stop and shed a tear for the ladybugs.

Chelsea is a senior in LAS.

Let the farmer’s market convince you to eat your vegetables

Originally published June 29, 2009.

Farmers’ markets boast a wealth of interesting sights and sounds for anyone willing to crawl out of bed by eight in the morning: one-man bands (a surprising number of which tend to include banjos), artfully-shaped bonsais, and lines a mile long waiting not for concert tickets or driver’s license renewal, but for fresh strawberries.

The conjured scent and phantom taste of those berries brings me to the most important aspect of a market comprised primarily, of course, of farmers. The produce from local farms is not only one of the best parts of summer and early autumn, but is also a flavorful epiphany (and celebration) regarding the “growing up” of our tastes.

I can remember countless people new to college who, having secured the freedom to choose their diet by living on campus, ate the same junky comfort food every day.

A la carte dining plans facilitate this much more than the buffet-style dining of UIUC, but it’s always possible to find something to satisfy the desire for something uninventive and unhealthy in dining halls.

Much of this comes from a desire for at least one aspect of the “college experience” to remain static. A hot, tasty meal goes a long way towards making a day or even a whole week in a new place more tolerable, even (or perhaps especially) when it’s bad for you.

In the meantime, either the hesitance to jump on the Try New Things bandwagon or the obliviousness to nutritional knowledge tends to keep vegetables at arm’s length for many students.

We come to campus with established dietary likes and dislikes and stick to them at all costs.

In my case, they took the form of an avowed hatred of broccoli and asparagus and to a lesser extent, bell peppers and tomatoes. I do know people who refuse to eat things they despise no matter how they’re prepared. But I mostly just couldn’t eat these banes of my taste buds’ existence on their own.

And yet, the produce offered at farmer’s markets looked incredibly appealing, perhaps even delicious. Seeing such beautiful, unique goods was completely different than the homogenous, bland “perfection” of the grocery store stuff, imported and out of season.

Of course, learning to like foods has as much to do with preparation as it does growing practices.

Veggies tend not to taste so great when they’ve been cooked to the consistency of mush in mass quantities, as is often the case in dining halls.

Not only does it completely change the taste, it also eliminates most of the nutritional contents that make eating vegetables necessary.

Eating lightly steamed broccoli was completely new for me. The plastic-bag flavor of the frozen variety and camouflage green color were nowhere to be found. The delicate tanginess of ripe local tomatoes replaced the watery smushiness of giant store-bought ones, as with red peppers. I even learned that in addition to tasting better, red bell peppers are actually better for you than their unripe green counterparts.

And, in an unexpected coup of my previous feelings about veggies, I went back for seconds of asparagus grilled briefly with lemon juice and black pepper.

For all of you out there who swear six ways to Sunday that you could never like spinach, radishes, or kohlrabi, do yourselves a favor. Do whatever it takes to get out of bed this Saturday and get to the Urbana farmer’s market.

Buy fresh, buy local, and don’t forget to enjoy the banjo music.

Chelsea is a senior in LAS.

In a market slump, CU needs really, really free markets

Originally published March 19, 2009.

Imagine dumping off that uncomfortable butterfly chair you’ve had in your room since freshman year and picking up a textbook you need for next semester. Give away that tiny microwave you used in your residence hall that took eight minutes to boil a cup of water and get a new rug to cover up that questionable stain on the carpet of your new apartment.

Imagine dumping off that uncomfortable butterfly chair you’ve had in your room since freshman year and picking up a textbook you need for next semester. Give away that tiny microwave you used in your residence hall that took eight minutes to boil a cup of water and get a new rug to cover up that questionable stain on the carpet of your new apartment.

Check out some books from the Urbana Free Library and offer a kids’ reading circle.

If you’re wondering where you can do all these things in Champaign-Urbana, it doesn’t exist — yet.

I’m talking about what many refer to as a Really, Really Free Market. It’s even cheaper than CU’s wide selection of secondhand retailers and more effective than a swap event that involves direct exchanges between attendees.

Really, Really Free Markets (or RRFMs) are based on the idea of an alternative gift economy and have, up to now, been suggested as a means of avoiding direct contribution to an unethical economy.

Advocates of freeganism promote RRFMs as a way for communities to pool resources, offering a greater number and wider variety of secondhand goods to avoid spending money (and thus avoid contributing to capitalist corporate practices and policies with which they disagree).

While this directly opposes the encouragement offered by economists and government officials for Americans to spend more during the recession, many people in Champaign-Urbana now have to face cold, hard facts. University students have parents who have lost their jobs or are at high risk.

Payments on credit card bills and student loans may pose greater difficulties. And people in the community feel their budgets straining equally as much.

So what could be better than an RRFM for the ever-growing number of people with serious financial constraints?

With every other part of college becoming more expensive, students could save themselves a lot of money by organizing a “freemeet,” as it’s also called. In a large, easily accessible venue, attendees bring belongings or services of their own to give away and take home whatever they need.

One of the most important aspects of RRFMs is that they do not involve direct bartering. No one lugs around his own items until he finds someone willing to trade directly with him for something he wants. So, you don’t have to worry that no one will want to trade computer parts for your deck of Pokémon cards or your copy of Shaq Fu.

Plus, Really, Really Free Markets aren’t limited to items — many people offer free groceries, already cooked meals, haircuts and the like. Anything is fair game, and in fact, many games and other recreational events take place within the market.

Jam sessions, performances, and sports games are not at all unusual, and no one has to pay to use the venue or scope out things that interest them. A Really, Really Free Market would work perfectly on the Main or South Quad, and students could offer an endless and eccentric supply of market finds. If an RRFM just needs a venue, some advertising, and a little public momentum, then it’s worth the work.

For a quirky community and large university like Champaign-Urbana boasts, it would be a great resource. Best of all, it provides both economic and social empowerment by encouraging people to take control of their current financial situation and affirming that a few dedicated people can do a lot of good.

So if you’re still imagining that perfect trading spot, this is your chance. Bring some friends, some stuff, and some fliers together in one place, and take home a sense of fulfillment.

Chelsea is a senior in English and creative writing and handled 3 Benadryl at once better than she thought.