Plainly Speaking: Life on India's Grasslands

PIED: Ah, road trips. Are you a frequent road-tripper like me? If so, you'll recognise three quintessential elements of each road trip: a bag of snacks in the car boot, a playlist of road trip tunes, and grasslands. 

*record scratch* 

Wait: grasslands? 

Yes, grasslands. Grasses cover the vast majority of India's interior, from Kutch to Kaziranga. And it's not just India: North America, Africa (mostly south of the Sahara), Australia, and southern South America also have vast grasslands. 

Unfortunately, these grasslands are at risk. North Americans drive through what's left of the prairies. Here in India, new roads cut through the plains. This tragedy makes grasslands a quintessential element of a long road trip: go far enough inside a continent, and you'll be in a grassland or desert. 

How did grasses get this successful? What's it like out on a grassland? And how are these liminal plains threatened by human activity? I'll attempt to answer these and more in today's podcast episode. I'm Pied Survogel, and with my co-hosts, I'll show you what it's like on a grassland. 

INTRO: 

P: I'm Pied, a pied urvogel! 

NEWMOON: I'm Newmoon the Large-billed Crow! 

MR BLOOMSIP: I'm Mr Bloomsip! 

HIBISCUS: I'm Hibiscus! 

B&H: We're the sunbirds on the show! 

ACANTHA: I'm Acantha! 

DAWN: And I'm Dawn! 

D&Ac: We're the garden lizards here! 

ALL: We're the hosts of this show: 

Survogel Asks the Biosphere! 

P: Hello, Mr Bloomsip! Hi, Hibiscus! 

B: Hi, Pied! 

H: Is today about grass? 

P: Close: we're talking about grasslands. We live near them, don't we? 

B: Yes. They're not good to hide in, though. And they're full of dangers, like cats. 

P: That's just an urban grassland. 

N: What do you mean? I usually stick to the trees and human lawns. 

P: Oh. Hello, Newmoon! Grass comes in many more varieties than just lawn grass. 

N: Hello, listeners! I'm not sticking around for too long. 

P: Okay. Well, I'd like you to meet our two new co-hosts: Dawn and Acantha! 

N, B, & H: Who? 

P: Okay, now please welcome the first lizards on our podcast: Dawn and Acantha, two Oriental Garden Lizards! 

Ac: Hi. 

D: 'Sup. I was basking and this... toothy bird here came up to me with an idea. 

P: And I'm glad you could show up to bask here for the podcast! 

Ac: That's because of the warm lamp Pied set up. 

N: Mmm, liz- 

P&B: Newmoon! 

P: We talked about this! 

D: Darn it, a crow? 

P: Don't worry, he can't eat you. 

Ac: So what do you know about grass? 

P: Not a lot. 

B: Don't worry. This first note says that grasslands are common inside continents. 

P: Oh! That's due to the rainshadow effect. Continents are drier on the inside because of this effect and air generally drying the further it gets from the sea. The rainshadow effect basically means that it's drier on the side of a mountain that faces away from the wind. That means that the further inland you are, the less likely you are to find a forest. 

H: So there are grasslands instead? 

P: Yes! Grasslands and deserts, actually. 

B: Why? 

P: There isn't enough water inside a continent - usually - to start and sustain a forest. The Amazon's kind of its own thing; it's been a rainforest since the Eocene, and the forest kept the rain coming. Unfortunately, this self-sustaining system might become a regular aridland soon if deforestation continues. 

N: CAW! I like trees! 

P: Hopefully, there are things being done to stop it. It's easy: just remove the cattle-grass, curb ALL development in the area, and let the jungle return while it can. 

H and N: Yay! 

P: Anyways, onto grasslands. They weren't really a thing for most of geologic history. If the Earth's history was a day, from noon yesterday to noon today, right now, grasslands only appeared a few minutes ago. 

B: Ooh, tell us more! 

P: They appeared in the Miocene. Or was it the Pliocene? I don't know that much about grasses. 

...but I know someone who does. I'm off to talk to her. She's an old friend of mine, a botany and chemistry nerd, and a part-time Compsognathus: Ash Mackenzie, aka Scarb! 

B: Will Ash come to our studio? 

P: Not for the first segment. We'll talk a lot about how grasses turn something in the air into the fiber in their blades. 

H: What? You have to explain after this! 

N: I'll also dip out now; I've got a rat to wash. Bye! 

P: I'll see you later, then! 

As: Hey, Pied! 

P: Hi, Ash! What do you have for us about grasses? 

As: They're the coolest angiosperms (flowering plants), objectively speaking. They have so many adaptations to dry climates that- it's just beautiful. Some of them have independently evolved many times in a group. They've specialised down to their PHOTOSYNTHESIS! Some grasses turn air into sugar differently!  

P: I'm not really a plant nerd like you, so could you please tell us more? 

As: So basically, there's this thing called the Calvin cycle. It sequesters and stores carbon (specifically, CO2) from the air by combining it with a sugar. The enzyme behind this is Ribulosebisphosphatecarboxylase, AKA RuBisCO. It's what converts carbon dioxide to sugars, like in nectar. Unfortunately, it doesn't always have access to CO2. 

P: Why? 

As: If it gets too hot, too dry, or too dark, like at night or during the peak of your summer, their stomata close. Stomata are wee mouths that breathe air in and let water out. Have any of you had dry mouths after a night sleeping with them open? 

P: Just me, as a human. 

As: To avoid losing the water that holds them up, plants close their stomata. If it's too dry for too long, there isn't enough CO2 for RuBisCO to act on, so it starts photorespiration, which uses up energy, creates carbon dioxide, and could kill the plant. 

P: Gah! So how are there plants in dry places that photosynthesise? 

As: They have two methods: make it harder for water to leave their stomata, or change their photosynthetic pathways. 

P: Like? 

As: Marram grass is an example of the former. It traps moisture. Each blade's kinda curled like a... tailorbird's nest. 

P: So how does that keep it moist? 

As: Its stomata are all inside the 'nest hollow'. The side facing outwards is covered in a waxy cuticle. This means the only water that the plant loses is in the blade's hollow. 

P: Clever! But how do other grasses stay alive when it's dry? 

As: Not all grasses are aridland plants. Rice and reeds are wet grasses. And Posidonia and other seagrasses ARE monocots, but not grass. The trick grasses have up their sleeves (which is a human saying; grasses don't wear shirts with sleeves) is that they grow from the BASE, not the TIP. 

P: Hm. Why's that special? 

As: Most plants rely on healthy tips to grow. Bite off a sapling's top and it stops growing. Bite a grass blade's tip and it's unaffected. 

P: So when something cuts the grass, it survives and grows back? 

As: Yes. Although it releases distress chemicals. And growing from the base, which is half-buried in soil, is better in a dry place than growing from a leaf tip that could easily dry out. And grasses can go dormant for the worst months and reawaken when the rain returns. Just like my namesake and other deciduous trees! But that's not all. 

P: They evolved new photosynthetic pathways! So, what are they and how do they differ? 

As: They're different routes plants take to turn carbon dioxide into organic compounds, like sugars. First of all, there's C3. It's the pathway with the RuBisCO acting directly; the one with photorespiration, you know. 

P: How is it changed? 

As: The way to prevent photorespiration when it's hot and dry is to separate carbon fixation, the initial intake of CO2, from the Calvin cycle, where RuBisCO acts! 

P: Whoa! 

As: You can separate them with either space or time. CAM separates them in time, and C4 by space. 

P: But since CO2 is a gas, how do these plants store them? 

As: They convert it into organic acids. It's a variation on what regular RuBisCO does; C3 is named C3 because the first step, with RuBisCO's direct action, creates a three-carbon molecule. We're not talking about CAM plants today, because there are no CAM grasses. 

P: But all C4 plants are grasses, aren't they? 

As: Well... *typing* No. A bunch of different monocots, AND over a thousand species of eudicot!² And India's grasslands are C3! 

P: HUH. 

As: So now let's get into the vegetable of how C4 works! (it's 'the meat of it' but for plants, get it?) 

It starts in the mesophyll, the spongy middle layer in a regular leaf. In regular leaves, carbon dioxide enters the air spaces in the mesophyll and the carbon cycle acts there. But when it's depleted... 

P: Photorespiration occurs. 

As: Yeah. But in C4 plants, like grasses, the mesophyll doesn't directly RuBisCO it. The mesophyll converts it into an organic acid, THEN sends it to ANOTHER layer; the bundle-sheath cells! 

P: Dang, I kind of want to cut up a grass blade to see this under a microscope. How does this new layer of bundle cells help? 

As: Bundle-sheath cells are where the organic acid is converted BACK into CO2, making sure there's enough CO2 to make photorespiration a weird footnote! 

P: Oh! So when the stomata close in the heat... the bundle-sheath cells convert the organic acid store BACK to CO2... which prevents photorespiration! 

As: Yeah! With a supply of organic acid, stomata or no stomata, grasses keep photosynthesisin'! Coupled with the power of dormancy and growth from the base, grasses took over the world! 

P: Thank you for your time, Ash! 

P: Before we continue, I'll answer some FAQs about grasslands. These are common misconceptions. 

The first is "Aren't they useless wastelands?" NO. That is so far from the truth that ecologists cry when they read it. A healthy grassland bursts with life; bushes full of tiny seed-eaters, insectivorous birds swooping overhead to grab insects, big hunters lurking in the tall grass... 

The iconic African savannah, portrayed in countless movies, like The Lion King and Madagascar II, is a grassland ecosystem. I'll bet that in spite of the fame places like Tsavo, Maasai Mara, and the Serengeti reserve brought to their countries, there are still bureaucrats obsessed with GDP looking to chip away at the vast plains. 

Now you might be asking "How much life can a grassland support?" *sighs in urvogel* A lot. You know the great African plains? Giant herds of wildebeest? They're bursting with birds. Pales in comparison to a rainforest, but nothing to scoff at. Heck, here in India, some of the most popular birding destinations are grasslands! For example, Bhigwan, in the state of Maharashtra. It's well-known amongst birders here in India. As of November 13, 2025, 134 species have been listed for the Bhigwan grasslands on eBird, a platform where citizen scientists (and professional ornithologists) log their bird sightings. The Rann of Kutch, both Greater and Lesser, is a home to migratory birds from as far as Siberia. And Kaziranga, thanks to the action of elephants and rhinos, is a grassland, and it's TEEMING with life. 

The next is "Isn't a grassland just grass, grass, and more grass?" Well, it depends. In the driest grasslands, like the Central Asian Steppe, there's basically no rain. Grasses, as Ash told you before, are the best-adapted aridland plants, apart from true xerophytes like cacti. So in places like Mongolia and Uzbekistan, you've got endless grassy hills like it's the Windows Vista wallpaper. At least, after the rain. However, a lot of grasslands get more rain than that. Not enough for a forest, but still. Remember the African savannah I told you about? Trees dot the landscape between the grasses. These trees, like acacias and terminalias, provide cover and food for grassland residents like shrikes. The same happens here, in an Indian grassland. We're going to find out more later in this episode. 

But first, how exactly did grasses take over? Grasses weren't always around; ask any palaeontologist about ground cover during the 'age of the dinosaurs' and they'll have plenty of words regarding grass. To clarify this, I'll be talking to Ash again. As a fellow [REDACTED], Ash has seen the world without grasses. It's also pretty complicated. Ash, back to you. 

As: Hello, everyone! 

B, H, Ac, D, & Pd: Hey! 

B: Pied says 

As: The history of grasses? That's... complicated. 

B: How? Grass seems simple. 

D: Where is it from? 

As: The truth is... 

I don't know. And I'm not sure we have a solid hypothesis about it either. 

H, D, and Ac: Huh?! 

As: It's... complicated. For a while, until... 2005, the earliest grasses we knew were from the Eocene, 55 million years ago. And then we found coprolites. 

P: Fossil poop. 

As: From the end of the Cretaceous, 66 million years ago! From India! 

P: So can you explain to our listeners when grass may have originated? 

As: …I don’t know! There were fossils from the Zhongguo Formation in China, 113-101 million years ago, that are hadrosaur teeth with wear from eating GRASS. 

B: Eh?! 

As: That means that grass spread worldwide in the late Cretaceous! 

N: How do you know? India isn't so far from China. 

As: India was literally on the other side of the world during that time. Attached to AFRICA! Africa, India, South America, Australia, and the not-frozen-back-then Antarctica were a supercontinent called Gondwana, which split up, though not by much, during the Jurassic and Cretaceous. And Europe was an archipelago, a collection of islands separated by stormy sea. Landmasses were closer together, but… so far, we haven’t found any grass fossils from Late Cretaceous Europe and Africa. The mystery remains; did grasses go south from Eurasia to India, or north from Gondwana to Eurasia? 

H: I don't know. Fossils are found in the ground, right? 

P&As: Yes. 

H: So if they find grass remains in old rocks in Africa, we'll know for sure. 

P: I guess we will. However, a lot of nations don’t do much palaeontology, and the grass fossils we’re talking about are tiny and- 

B: Okay, okay. Back to the topic. Grasslands existed in the Cretaceous? 

As: No. For most of their history, up until very recently, around five million years ago, grasses were just another plant family. Bein’ trampled by giant dinosaurs meant that ground cover and thick forests weren’t really a thing until after the end-Cretaceous impact wiped them out. That all changed during the Pliocene epoch. The climate cooled down and dried out, like a post-monsoon winter. Forests weren’t really happy then, except for the rainiest rainforests, which stayed the same. 

P: When the forests died back… the grasslands emerged! 

As: Exactly! And that’s the story of how grasses took over our planet; water went into the ice caps, dryin’ out the interiors of the continents… 

B: And grasses came in because it was too dry for trees! 

As: I guess that’s all I’ve got for today. See you soon, Pied! 

P: Bye, Ash! 

N: I've got a rat to wash. So I'll dip out now. 

P: Bye, Newmoon! 

As: See ya! 

P: Now that we know how these enigmatic plants rose to 'power', it's time to learn what it's actually like out there. For that, I'll be interviewing a flock of Scaly-breasted Munias in an urban grassland to see what life's like for them. According to the Cornell Lab's Birds of the World, the Scaly-breasted Munia is an "attractive [bird] of grasslands, gardens, fields, and [farmlands]". We'll be discussing the seasons out here and a few of the threats they face. 

P: Okay, so now you've figured out that I'm not going to eat you, can you please tell the audience what your name is? 

FLIGHTY: Flighty! 

P: Nice! So my readers and listeners wanted to ask you a few questions. 

F: Why? 

P: We're curious about your life. What's a day out on the grassland like? 

F: Every morning, just before the sun does, I wake up. A bunch of us roost together on the same plant. There aren't a lot of trees or shrubs, but there are enough for everyone to sleep on. I start chatting when the others wake up; if I start too early, a hungry hunter might catch me. Then it's off to do what we do every day: dodge predators, eat seeds, glean the occasional insect... 

P: Mmm! Insects do sound tasty! And I know that humans love their grass seeds! 

F: We can't keep fluttering across the grassland searching for food, though. By midday, it gets hot. Really hot, as the sunbirds seem to think. So it's time to hide for a while. We flock to the nearest bush and catch up on each other's morning trips. Very few hunters dare to grab us as a midday meal, mostly because we sit in thorny bushes. 

Eventually, the sun does sink a little in the afternoon, and though it's still hot, we venture out a little. Still seeds to eat. 

P: Though you still stick together in bushes? 

F: Safety in numbers! You wouldn't get it. 

P: Because I'm a hunter? 

F: ...yes. 

Finally, it's evening and time for our final foraging of the day. By now, we mostly settle down in our night roosts and have one final chat. Who got eaten, who survived... We like to chat about things. 

P: Nice! How old- how many monsoons have you seen? 

F: Let's see: the one I hatched during... then the one after that... the one after that... and this one. 

P: Nice! Flighty, you're three years old! 

F: I am indeed! 

P: So what are the seasons on a grassland like? 

F: Was it your turn to answer or do I have to answer this? 

P: Sorry, but you have to answer. 

F: Okay! There are three seasons. You can stretch it to four if you look at it the right way: the Monsoon, the Drying-Out, and the Dryness. After the Drying-Out, it gets colder at night, and then it gets hotter again until the monsoon. So you can say there's a cold half of Dryness! 

P: Ah! So what do you do during these? 

F: I hatched during a Monsoon. The grass is wet; it's the time to build nests and eat fresh seeds and insects! The Drying-Out is still somewhat nice. The grass is still green, and we're still somewhat well-hidden; plus, we get occasional rain showers, and the clouds are still big and pretty. And then the Dryness: grass can burn at any time, but seeds are everywhere. They're waiting for rain. But we eat them; they're all we have until the rains return. In the cold Dryness, lots of birds come from the North. I don't understand their chirps. When the Dryness gets hotter, though, they leave. But it's been getting hotter; at least, it feels that way. And even though the heat always surprises me each year, the northerners always leave at the same time! How does that work? 

P: I've a whole other episode about it on my podcast. 

F: And here we are today, in a Dryness season! 

P: That's nice! Do you, like, go anywhere? Migrate? 

F: Not really. Why go to weird places like the stonechats when it's weird enough here? 

P: Good reason. Have you seen anything... change in the years you've lived? 

F: *sigh* Now that you mention it, yes. There used to be more grassland around at the bottom of the hill. I could've sworn my friend got within grabbing range of a human! 

P: *giggle* And? 

F: That road was disaster for us. One day, human vehicles came. Diggers, sludgedumpers, transport trucks... they all entered that grassland. They chopped and they plucked and they poured and... there used to be a little pond in that grassland, which the humans removed. Ah well. At least it'd be rainy soon. Except it wasn't. That Dryness was a lot longer. 

P: ...oh wow. 

F: Do you know any humans? 

P: Maybe? Why? 

F: If you can get them to stop the vehicles and save the grassland, I'd be grateful. 

P: ...Ah. Humans have a hive structure, like ants and bees. It'll be hard, but I'll try. 

F: And leave the grass alone. Not all of us shelter in trees, you know. 

P: Thank you for your time! I've got to go now. 

F: Bye! 

P: Sadly, Flighty's plight isn't unique. Similar things have been happening across the drier parts of the Indian subcontinent. Why, you may ask? Isn't the government doing anything against this? 

...the government is partly responsible. 

*Dmin chord on organ* 

Remember how I mentioned earlier that grasslands aren't wastelands? The government doesn't agree; according to the Department of Land Resources, a lot of arid non-forest ecosystems are wastelands.⁴ 

This is catastrophic; classifying a place as a wasteland tells people "It's alright, building here won't disrupt anything, because none of it was useful anyway". It's also a major reason why grasslands are synonymous with road trips in some places, as I mentioned earlier: these habitats are mostly seen as land to build roads on. In the case of grasslands, as Ash told us earlier, they're already doing a splendid job of carbon fixation, better than any monoculture forest would in the same region. Without them, a lot of our emissions, such as those from the cities built on former grasslands, wouldn't be absorbed and would do a lot more damage. And lateritic plateaus, like Maharashtra's famous Kaas, which blooms to life every monsoon, are also wastelands in the eyes of the government. Floral fields. Are wastelands? Because they don't bloom 24/7/365?! 

I'm not sure how much of it is a holdover from British colonisation, but I'm sure a lot of it comes from them. Stupid empire. Those colonialist puppetmasters 

{To maintain this program's PG-12 rating, these words have been translated into pipit chirps. Please stand by.} 

Now, do birds on the grassland agree? Let's find out! 

P: So, dear listeners, this is my friend Thorns the Asian Green Bee-Eater. I've known her for the past few years. Thorns, say hi to them! 

THORNS: Hello, Deerlisteners! Can you speak bee-eater? *loud pecking* 

Pied, why won't Deerlisteners uncurl? 

P: It's not Deerlisteners! It's "Dear! Listeners!" They can't talk to us; I'm sending these words far away for someone else to hear! 

Th: Oh, so it's a human thing. Weird. 

P: Yes. I want to know: do you prefer the forest or the grassland? 

Th: Um...... I'd like to say "forest", but... 

P: Wait, aren't you a swoop-in-the-open kind of bird? 

Th: Oh, that. I guess it's because flying over forests means more bugs, and any perches are high up, but some forests are too dense. Too little room to swoop in. Plus, the cuisine on the grassland can surprise you sometimes! 

P: *gasp* Really? 

Th: Especially the termites! And ants! Grass or not, there's a lot of termites and ants in the ground. 

P: Nice! I had winged termites one monsoon! 

Th: Back to the thing we were talking about. I also like grasslands because I look like grass, don't I? 

P: You do! 

Th: That's why I'm hard to spot, no matter which season it is. 

P: So would you say that grasslands are wastelands? 

Th: ...I don't know what I'd do without these open grassy plains. That counts for something, right? Sure, bulbuls boast that the forest has more bugs, but they're so hard to catch! 

P: Er... 

Th: You know this human thing you told me about? Restaurants, where humans have food given to them by other humans? 

P: Yeah, why? 

Th: You say there are different types! Some serve one thing, some another, right? 

P: Yes! 

Th: The grassland's my favourite type of restaurant! The food's always good, even when it's scorching and dry! I'm the same colour as them, so both my predators and prey rarely see me! Wastelands?! What kinda abomination came up with this insult to grasslands?! 

P: ...the humans who governed India? 

Th: The humans are stupid! Do they even KNOW the value of the grass? How it works as a shade for tasty insects most of the day?! How the termites emerge when it rains?! 

P: So what would you tell the humans who think grasslands matter less than dense forests? 

Th: Wait, that's what they mean? That's why basically every bird I've met who's wandered more than a kilometre from a grassy hill has seen construction happening. The humans think that the scrublands would be improved by construction! Construction of what?! It's pure destruction! 

P: What about when they plant lots of trees on what used to be a grassland? 

Th: I heard down the wires about a drongo who decided to stick around at one of those places. It didn't seem so bad when the saplings were short; plenty of insects attacked them, so he ate well. But as the saplings grew taller and taller, the open insects were fewer and the plantation became thicker. Eventually, he could barely move in the artificial thicket. He starved almost to death. 

P: Then what? 

Th: He somehow managed to pull himself out of the thick bushes and stay at the periphery. By then, he was too hungry to care. 

P: ...oh god. When did this happen? 

Th: Not too long ago. I heard about this a little after dawn on the wires over the mandir way down there. You see it? 

P: Hmm... is it over there, beneath the teak tree? 

Th: No, the neem one. 

P: Ah, there! 

Th: So the humans already know so much about grasslands and the animals on them. Then why would they create something as horrible as that thicket? 

P: Why do you think? 

Th: *groans in bee-eater* The drongo saw many water trucks in his stay, all of which stopped near the thicket. 

P: It's a dryness! They need those to keep their plants alive! Also, I think I know what it was the drongo got trapped in. It's a Miyawaki forest. Humans plant those to restore ecological diversity and rewild the city. 

Th: Re-wild-- re-wild?! RE-WILD?! First they pour concrete, then they think that they can get away with it by further eating into OUR wilderness! Last time I asked you, "re-wild" meant "restore the wild", NOT "RUIN IT AND SCULPT IT INTO SOMETHING ELSE"! I hope EVERYONE WHO SUPPORTED THESE- 

{To maintain this program's PG rating and relative lack of controversiality, Thorns's yelling has been replaced by the generic sound for her species from eBird. Please stand by.} 

Th: -and let the grass return! 

P: Yeesh, I think I'll edit this bit out. Most of my audience are naive humans. So, if you could say anything that's not too curse-riddled or violent to the leader of the humans who work on changing the cities, what would you say to them? 

Th: Stop calling my home a wasteland first. Then stop watering your fake forests. Let them brave a Dryness on their own. When the trees and bushes from the wet forests die, remove them and let the grass grow back instead. 

P: And if some trees survive, they're scrub-forest trees and do belong after all! Plant endangered grasses if you need to! 

Th: Yea! And stop building roads! It's not like you need any more! 

P: And high-rises! 

Th: It wouldn't kill you to have one fewer force-fielded building, but it might kill us, the birds, if we fly too close! 

P: Thank you for your time, Thorns! It's been a pleasure to meet you again. 

Th: No problem, Pied! Now where did that fly go?... 

P: And this is the end of Episode 1 of our new series "Lands not Wasted", where we explore the rich biodiversity of the so-called "wastelands" of India. 

P, B, H, D, and Ac: See you next time! 

BIBLIOGRAPHY: 

1: https://www.khanacademy.org/science/biology/photosynthesis-in-plants/photorespiration--c3-c4-cam-plants/a/c3-c4-and-cam-plants-agriculture 

2: Rowan F. Sage, A portrait of the C4 photosynthetic family on the 50th anniversary of its discovery: species number, evolutionary lineages, and Hall of Fame, Journal of Experimental Botany, Volume 67, Issue 14, July 2016, Pages 4039–4056, https://doi.org/10.1093/jxb/erw156 

3: http://ebird.org/species/nutman 

4: https://dolr.gov.in/wasteland-atlas-of-india-2019/ (All you need to know.) 

5: https://idronline.org/article/climate-emergency/greening-wastelands-is-not-a-sustainable-climate-change-solution/