America’s got a cigarette butt problem. A big one.

We’re talking about cigarette butts — the shriveled little bits of flicked cigs that are creating a not-so-little problem for our environment. “World No Tobacco” day, which was on May 31, prompted us to examine smoking’s environmental impact.

What’s that? You just saw a cigarette butt sail from a car window? Lodged in a sidewalk crack? Chances are you’re not alone; cigarette butts are far and away the most littered item in the world, with roughly 4.5 trillion being tossed each year. The lobbying group American for Nonsmokers’ Rights (ANR) reported that 1.69 billion pounds of butts ended up as toxic waste last year. That’s like the weight of 177,895 endangered African elephants, or 555,555 Toyota Prius automobiles, or. . . well, you get the idea. That’s a lot of junk in our collective trunk.

But cigarette butts aren’t just a punch line for bad puns — they present a serious hazard to our natural world.

The butt itself is comprised of two parts: A plastic filter and the remnants of the used tobacco. While the leftover tobacco is by definition biodegradable, the filters are made from a plastic called cellulose acetate, a compound that eventually breaks down but never disappears. Ever. Combine that with the roughly 4,000 chemicals found in cigarettes, and you’ve got the recipe for a pretty awful eco-aftertaste.

This doesn’t stop our wildlife from sampling the local cuisine. Birds and dogs often pick at the bite-sized waste, and marine animals like fish can ingest cigarette butts that wash into nearby lakes, rivers, and oceans. If the poisons don’t claim their lives first, a predator or a commercial fishery might, setting into motion a complexly destructive cycle in our food chain.

Toxins: They’re what’s for dinner.

This waste tears at the people-planet relationship in other ways, too; fires caused by cigarettes take the lives of more than 900 people in the U.S. every year. These fires amount to nearly $6 billion in annual human and property costs. Needless to say, it’s costly to have large (numbers of) butts.

So what’s a concerned derrière dissenter to do? Fortunately, there are many nonprofit organizations designed to raise public awareness of cigarette butt waste. You can find a local Sierra Club volunteer chapter that’s committed to keeping our streets, beaches, and oceans clean.

The easiest way to make a difference? Don’t litter in the first place — find a designated waste bin for your cigarette. Even better, don a pair of work gloves and organize a trash pick-up day with your friends. Discarded cigarettes might be small, but only our individual efforts will keep the issue from getting any bigger.

And, trust us: That’s a big but. – Davis Jones

This article appears courtesy of Sierra Magazine

Image: waferboard

The post Litter’s Little Big Problem: Cigarette Butts appeared first on EcoSalon.

QuoteDaily quotes at EcoSalon.

Increasingly, the world around us looks as if we hated it. – Alan Watts
Image: Lucente Designs

The post This Old Thing? appeared first on EcoSalon.

I just returned from a seaside vacation, where the leisure-time activities included swimming, hiking, and being environmentally incorrect.

On the very first day at our rented seashore home, I unpacked the cooler we had brought to the beach – and without even thinking about it I began to toss empty Diet Coke cans into the trash. In my real life I am a fairly rabid recycler and would never dream of doing this, but on that day, I did it casually and instinctively, egged on by a small voice in my head that whined, “You’re on vacation – give yourself a break.” As small voices go, this one was relatively benign – it’s not like it was telling me to hold up a convenience store, or wear white after Labor Day. But I was shocked at how quickly and easily I could put my values aside just because I was temporarily away from home. Are my beliefs really that lightly held, that disposable? Apparently so.

In my defense, this was my first real vacation in two years. It’s been kind of a difficult time, what with career changes, mid-life crises, and hauling my daughter cross-country to look at colleges. Faced with a cooler full of sandy cans, a childish and petulant part of my character took over, stomping its feet and insisting that I shouldn’t have to do anything that resembled drudgery – even something as non-taxing as recycling some beverage containers.

Feeling a slight but lingering shame, I went on with my vacation and returned to the beach the next day. My family always looks for seals near the shore line – most times without success – but they were out in record numbers that day, coming closer to the beach than we’d ever seen them. Clownish, whiskered and incredibly sweet-looking, they dove in and out of the water, doing the sidestroke and goofing around. One in particular came right up to the shore and looked me straight in the face for an eerily long time. We bonded. We made crazy cross-species eye contact and in that moment I felt mystically (some would say obsessively) connected to that seal. I named him Frank.

Clearly he was not just a seal – he was nature’s perfect lobbyist and he quickly had me rethinking my lazy, selfish ways. As I stood at the shore, I vaguely remembered reading that ocean litter was largely made up of beverage containers. I cringed then, thinking about the cans I hadn’t recycled, and made a fierce and somewhat crackpot vow to improve my eco efforts.

I spent the rest of the day guarding the shore, giving dirty looks to anyone who looked like they might be on the verge of littering. “Don’t even think about it,” I hissed to a little boy who had the glazed, anxious look of a child who’s about to pee in the ocean. For me, there would be no more throwing out soda cans; I was newly committed to a pristine planet. I was making the world a better place”¦for Frank.

My daughter seemed surprised (and a little annoyed) that neither she nor her brother had ever inspired me with that kind of environmental zeal. This was an excellent point, and one that I deftly sidestepped but could not ultimately explain.

Except to say that Frank was one hell of a cute seal.

Image: nhoulihan

The post Sealing the Deal appeared first on EcoSalon.

The name of this litter – World’s Best Cat Litter – implies that they are, well, the best. Let’s take a look and see if it comes out on top and lives up to its name.

The litter is made with whole-kernel corn and other natural ingredients, which means it isn’t mined, drilled, or artificially produced. It’s a clumping formula, though the product doesn’t use synthetic chemicals, clays, or perfumes. And, according to the manufacturer, the World’s Best Cat Litter is biodegradable, flushable, and septic-safe.

As for the cons, they claim that because the kernel’s naturally microporous structure traps odors, the World’s Best Cat Litter starts to smell faster than other clumping litters. Most likely, you’ll need to change this litter more frequently.

However, what you trade in odor control, you make up for in health benefits. Unlike other cat litters, this is free from silica dust, which is harmful for your or your cat to breathe.

The bottom line? This litter is safe, non-toxic, and planet-friendly. While you may have to change it more frequently, the pros definitely outweigh the cons.

Image: wolfsavard

The post World’s Best Cat Litter – Really? appeared first on EcoSalon.