Guest post by Deb Davidson, a resident of Bozeman, Montana. Deb escapes with her family to their cabin on the Smith River as often as possible.

Twenty years ago, my parents bought a remote section of land perched above the Smith River, roughly 10 miles downstream from the Camp Baker put-in. The property is one of the highest points around, and from its towering limestone cliffs you can see the winding Smith River canyon, forests of old-growth ponderosa pine, and a variety of raptors soaring gracefully on hidden thermals.

The property did not have any buildings, so we decided to build a log cabin to serve as a family gathering place – and since my family likes to do things themselves and work hard, we built it ourselves.

For more summers than I can count, we met up at “the land” to live out of a wall tent and build this cabin. We hand dug foundation holes, peeled lodgepole pine logs, placed the logs, my husband built a timber frame, and we put a roof on. After many years of work we now have a beautiful cabin.

During those two weeks of work each summer we didn’t take much time off to play. But when we did, our reward was the mile-long hike down to the Smith River to fish, swim, and just relax.

Our place is not far from the Rock Creek campsite, so we would use that as a place to hang out, play, and catch some big trout in the deep hole along the cliff wall.

Rewarding ourselves on the Smith was a perfect way to relax and share friendship and love. ‬

‬As we face a massive proposed copper mine at the headwaters of the Smith River, I encourage our decision makers to think about the importance of the Smith to Montanans like me, and have the courage to protect this special place.

I hope that we can look back on this period and say that our reward for denying the proposed mine is a cool, clean, free-flowing river that our families will be able to hike down to, float, swim, and fish for generations to come. ‬‬‬

What you can do

Today, you can take action to help save the Smith River in Montana! Please urge Montana’s Governor Steve Bullock to protect this special place by directing his state agencies not to issue any permits for mining unless it can be developed in a manner that eliminates any possibility of degrading the river’s water quality and wild trout fishery.

“Flint” produced by Modoc Stories, celebrates the beauty and mysteries of Georgia’s Flint River.

It features three people – Robin McInvale, Jimmy Miller, and Paul DeLoach– and their special connections to the river. And, “Flint” continues our effort at American Rivers to use creative storytelling to inspire river conservation.

Their stories

Robin’s husband used to take her to the Upper Flint on fishing dates.

Four decades later the couple retreats to their riverside cabin most weekends to canoe and fish the waters they know as well as they know each other, introducing their grandchildren to their love of the Flint.

Jimmy Miller grew up fishing the lower Flint’s shoals and diving its freshwater springs. He has traveled the world and currently works stints on a schooner in the Atlantic and Caribbean, spending his off-time in a simple riverside cabin, and on the river, south of Albany’s Radium Springs.

Paul DeLoach is a pioneer among cave divers worldwide.  He knows and loves the waters of the Flint River basin well, both above and below the surface, mapping the underground intricacies of the springs in most portions of the Floridan Aquifer in Georgia and Florida. One of the founders of Flint Riverkeeper, for decades he has been a leader in exploring and conserving the Flint’s waters.

Their river

Georgia’s Flint River provides water for over one million people, 10,000 farms, unique wildlife, and 300 miles of exceptional fishing and paddling. Despite being in a historically wet area of the country, in recent years many Flint River tributaries have dried up completely and the river’s flows have dropped dramatically.

American Rivers and Flint Riverkeeper are working in collaboration with diverse partners to restore the flows and health of the Flint.

Slow-moving blackwater. Untouched cypress vistas. Swallowtail kites and ospreys soaring overhead. Our new film features the many treasures of South Carolina’s Waccamaw River Blue Trail.

Come explore the Waccamaw with its extensive unique wetlands and wildlife habitat, rich history, and endless recreation opportunities. American Rivers helped launch the Waccamaw River Blue Trail in 2009 to improve recreation, increase community involvement, support conservation, and help citizens and decision makers embrace the river as a community asset.

Considered one of the finest blackwater rivers in the Southeast, the Waccamaw River is  ideal for canoeing and kayaking and provides a memorable experience for all. Families enjoy paddling and watching otters and other wildlife. Anglers enjoy the year-round fishing. Birders visit to spot the red cockaded woodpecker, along with an abundance of herons and egrets.

Come explore, learn more, and plan your trip to the Waccamaw River Blue Trail!

The amount of impervious surface—those surfaces covered in concrete, buildings, etc.—in our communities can turn even an average rain event into cause for concern.

However, it is often more catastrophic events that serve as a wakeup call and spur change. In the wake of the flooding damage caused to the northeast by Hurricane Sandy, the federal government made funds available to help vulnerable coastal communities bolster their first line of natural defense – rivers and wetlands.

Healthy rivers and wetlands are like natural sponges. Wetland soils and plants can quickly trap and absorb rapidly increasing volumes of water. In fact, one acre of healthy wetlands can store 1 million gallons of water. Additionally, healthy floodplains often contain native vegetation and woody material that provide plenty of friction to slow storm surge and help alleviate the effects of flash flooding.

This summer and fall, American Rivers and several of our partners are working with the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, National Fish and Wildlife Foundation and others to increase natural resiliency in vulnerable areas by removing dams and restoring wetlands throughout the northeast.

Tidmarsh Creek, MA

In Massachusetts, American Rivers is pleased to be a part of the Tidmarsh Farms Restoration Project, which is the largest freshwater wetlands restoration project in the state. The area was once modified and flooded to create cranberry bogs. The project, which is being spearheaded by the Massachusetts Division of Ecological Restoration, will remove three dams, including Beaver Dam, and recreate a more natural floodplain in the headwaters areas. Specifically, the project team will reconstruct the stream channel, seed the area with extensive planting, and restore fish passage to a coastal pond and 3.5 miles of stream. Once complete, the area will boast 250 acres of healthy coastal wetlands, unobstructed stream miles for fish traveling from the ocean to spawning grounds in the headwaters, and diverse habitat for wildlife throughout the project site.

Centreville, MD

Despite its diminutive size, the Centreville Dam exacerbates upstream flooding on Gravel Run, threatening local businesses and the police station that is located along its impoundment. With climate change expected to increase the incidents of flooding in the area, American Rivers, the Town of Centreville and others are partnering to improve local flood resiliency by removing the dam and restoring the natural stream channel and surrounding habitat. In addition to alleviating some upstream flooding, removal of the dam will provide access to additional upstream habitat for river herring and other native fish.

Musconetcong River, NJ

The Musconetcong River has been an important resource in the Delaware River Basin since at least the 1600s. American Rivers has partnered with the Musconetcong Watershed Association for several dam removals along its length in prior years, and we’re excited to continue the work this fall. The goal of this project is to remove the Hughesville Dam and revitalize 6.95 miles of habitat just upstream of the Musconetcong’s confluence with the Delaware River. The second, forthcoming phase of this project will remove the next upstream dam, the Warren Glen Dam, in order to add five additional free-flowing river miles. Once complete, the Musconetcong will have a total of 30 river miles under the Wild and Scenic designation.

West River, CT

Originally built in 1794, the Pond Lily Dam currently presents a flood hazard two ways. Not only is it an impediment to natural stream flows and healthy habitat, but the dam is in disrepair and at high risk of failure. The Pond Lily Dam is also a barrier for migratory fish in the West River. Removing it will allow the Connecticut Fund for the Environment to help restore access to 2.6 miles of habitat on the West River as well as 76 acres of Konold’s Pond habitat for native species like alewife and blueback herring, as well as peace of mind to its neighbors.

I was standing along my local river the other day, under a blue sky with a gentle breeze slipping by. Soft sunlight from above reflected off the nearby cliffs and a muted silence surrounded my thoughts – rare for a beautiful Sunday morning in August. Normally there would be kayakers surfing the wave at Smelter, and kids hopping around chasing striders by the water’s edge, and cyclists zipping by on the bike path behind me. But it was silent. Eerie.

By now you have certainly seen the news about the tremendously tragic, toxic release of abandoned mine waste into the Animas River near Silverton, Colorado.

More than 3 million gallons of toxic sludge were blown into Cement Creek, a key headwaters stream to the Animas, turning the river bright orange and sparking a loud outcry of rage, blame, and sorrow.

But unfortunately, this accident has been waiting to happen for decades, as this particular mine was closed in 1923, left abandoned by the mining operators for the public to clean up generations later. This is exactly what the EPA was beginning to do when the release was triggered. Much blame has been laid at the feet of the EPA, and they have expressed their apologies and commitment to address the immediate mess as urgently as possible. But it is really the toxic legacy of abandoned mines, and just within the area surrounding Silverton in San Juan County, there are over 1,100 of these sitting idle, that is the real story.

How much longer will these abandoned mines continue to leach their poisonous legacy into our streams? How much longer will they impact fisheries, agriculture, and the communities that depend on these rivers for their core viability?

In fairness, it’s not like there are floor plans available for the more than 4,000 abandoned mines in Colorado alone. Much work must be done to reduce or eliminate the toxic legacy of mining effluents running into our streams every day, and we hope that this effort will take on an even greater degree of urgency after this tragic event.

It also signals a need for even greater vigilance in protecting our rivers – especially the last remaining pristine rivers across the country, like the Smith River in Montana. Named as one of America’s Most Endangered Rivers® of 2015, the Smith is cherished by Montana residents and river runners and anglers from across the country, as one of the last, best places to experience a true escape from the pressures and pace of a fast-moving world. It also is a sustainable economic engine, generating over $4.5 million per year in tourism and jobs in central Montana.

Half of the rivers we named in this year’s Most Endangered list are threatened by mining: the Colorado River in the Grand Canyon, Montana’s Smith River, Alaska’s Chuitna River, Oregon’s Rogue River, and Minnesota’s St. Louis River. Industrial scale mining can have devastating and permanent impacts and we must mobilize public action to protect clean water and river health.

American Rivers is actively working to protect places where mining is proposed, and we will remain dedicated to the idea that it is unacceptable to put our river economies, river heritage, river recreation, and clean water for people and natural communities at risk.

I don’t want to see another river somewhere else in Colorado, or anywhere else in the country, suffer the same fate as the Animas. Let’s get to work.

The Washington Post featured an interesting article about how gazing upon awe-inspiring vistas makes people more generous, more thoughtful, and a bit more giving with themselves and those around them. Being in the presence of something so grand, and so much bigger than any one individual, changes how people think and act towards one another.

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In the article, the Grand Canyon was one of the prime examples of this phenomenon, and anyone who has stood atop the canyon’s mighty walls, or craned their neck from the serpentine waters in the bottom of the canyon can attest that this is true. The canyon, and so many other expansive landscapes like it, has the power to change a person, simply by being.

But threats to places like these are constantly swirling, and with the Grand Canyon in particular, these kind of unwise development efforts are very real.

Between an unwise construction project that could plunge up to 10,000 people per day into the depths of the canyon, to a (now on the shelf) groundwater development scheme on the South Rim, to mining for uranium just outside the gates of one of our country’s most iconic National Parks, the Grand Canyon is surrounded by threats that could change, and diminish, the very character that is revered by so many from around the world.

Aside from simply the physical monuments in the canyon, the river inspires an emotional response as well. In 2015 we released a film by Forest Woodward and Gnarly Bay productions, The Important Places, that beautifully captured the relationship between a father and son over the course of a Grand Canyon journey. While these two men, young and old, were the obvious characters of the film, it was the Grand Canyon itself that forged the bond that brought them together.

Check out the film

[su_youtube_advanced url=”https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ffNPOnbTkmo” width=”1000″ height=”520″ rel=”no” https=”yes”]https://youtu.be/mbpmAJq4XWw[/su_youtube_advanced]

The Grand Canyon continues to need our vigilance, and requires our protection and honor, to remain as one of our nations most revered, irreplaceable national treasures. These places of awe are central to who we are as people, and how we relate to each other in the presence of such beauty, and sublimity. It is a treasure that we should cherish on every level, even those we may not fully understand.

Now It’s Your Turn

So tell us: Have you been inspired by something truly grand, like the Grand Canyon? Let us know in the comments below.

With the U.S. population becoming ever more diverse, environmental groups are faced with the challenge of engaging people of color whose understandings of the natural environment often diverge from those of traditional environmentalists.

Throughout my experience working with environmental groups and researching perceptions of the environment among communities of color, I’ve learned that diverse communities and traditional environmentalists often support similar initiatives, but for different reasons. Therefore, one way to work with diverse groups is to understand and engage their unique environmental values and needs while working toward a common goal.

Targeted Universalism

This path to engagement, called Targeted Universalism, was developed by Dr. John Powell, a Professor of Law, African American Studies and Ethnic Studies and Director of the Haas Institute for a Fair and Inclusive Society at the University of California Berkeley Law School. Over the years, he has used Targeted Universalism to help organizations across the U.S. foster meaningful and equitable relationships with diverse communities.

In June, he shared his insights with American Rivers and other grantees of the Z. Smith Reynolds Foundation at its Racial Equity Lab in Raleigh, NC. At the workshop, Powell explained that programs targeting specific racial groups often stir resentment among white people who perceive some people of color as “rule-breakers” and undeserving of special attention. On the other hand, universal programs that apply the same interventions to all groups tend to disproportionately benefit white people.

Targeted Universalism is kind of a hybrid of these two approaches. Powell described it as a method where universal goals are met through targeted strategies based on how people are situated in their environment. He suggested that we think about how our programs can benefit all groups while placing special emphasis on marginalized populations. Applying Targeted Universalism involves answering three questions:

1. What is the universal goal?
2. How are people situated differently within their social and physical environments?
3. How do we invest in a particular group to place them on the path towards the universal goal?

American Rivers staff members have begun brainstorming about how the organization might use Targeted Universalism to engage diverse communities.

Using Targeted Universalism in the Rivers of the Southern Appalachia and Carolinas Basin

In July, we used Targeted Universalism to understand how we can work with underserved groups in Raleigh-Durham, Asheville, Greenville-Spartanburg and Charleston priority communities. During our meetings with community leaders, we established universal goals and sought to understand how populations in their communities were positioned differently.

Race, income, age, immigration status and cultural values appear to be some of the major factors influencing how people are situated in their social and physical environments. These traits also seem to affect their access to rivers, clean water and green infrastructure. With this knowledge, we will begin working with community leaders to understand what resources we can use or develop to connect residents to their local rivers.

We still have much work ahead as we seek to become more diverse in our representation and outreach, but we’re off to a great start! We look forward to broadening our approach to conservation in this river basin by working with communities of color.

My little boys are growing up. My older one starts kindergarten next month. My little one is charging out of toddlerhood, becoming more independent by the day. Life moves so fast, and the best way I know to slow things down and treasure the moments is to get out on a river.

So I took the boys to Oaks Bottom Wildlife Refuge. It’s in the heart of Portland, not far from our house.

A little piece of wildness on the Willamette River. An easy urban escape. It was cloudy, a welcome break from the record heat and drought we’ve had this summer. The alders and cottonwoods smelled so good as we walked the shady trails.

Walking down to the river, we talked, free of distractions. At home I feel as if I’m always trying to do five things at once and conversations are constantly interrupted. But here, it’s just us. No chores or emails, just walking and chatting. Just being, together. My five year old reaches out to hold my hand, and my heart melts. How much longer until he’s too old, too cool, for this?

As we walk, I’m thinking about a recent New York Times article, How Walking in Nature Changes the Brain. The story looks at how spending time in natural spaces reduces anxiety, worry and stress.

For me, rivers are medicine. I know when I need a break, when I need to get out for a float, swim, paddle, or streamside hike. If walking in nature changes our brains, then spending time on rivers must deliver an even bigger bang for the buck, right? I’m thinking of multi-day river trips. I’m thinking of finding peace and connection, of open hearts and strengthened spirits. Healing waters. I’m remembering floating on my back down the Salmon, nights in the Grand Canyon, early morning kayaking on the Potomac…

My boys, racing for the river’s steep bank, bring me back to earth. I snap out of my reverie and take their hands. Together, we carefully approach the eroded edge. A sailboat is anchored here, and kayaks paddle by. We wave, and they wave back.

My five year old asks if he can get a kayak for his birthday.

I think that’s his best birthday present request yet. And I’m game. Any excuse to get us out here more often. For fun, of course. But also to test our own mini science experiment that nature, that rivers, really are fundamental to our health, well-being, and relationships. That they are essential to our happiness, to who we are.

On a recent fishing trip to Montana, I saw another reason why the state’s nickname is the Treasure State.

I was in the southwest corner of the state with my son, brother, and cousin trying to get a few of Montana’s big trout to eat a fly.

We were on one of the state’s more popular trout streams, the Madison, at one of its most popular sections, $3 Bridge, with Rainbow trout being the main fish we were after.

It’s a real success story that this is such a popular stretch of river, since several years ago there was a proposed diversion that would have pulled a significant amount of water from the river for a proposed and unneeded hydroelectric plant. Thankfully, American Rivers and our partner organizations opposed the project and it hasn’t happened, leaving the river in good shape and the trout plentiful.

Though the parking lot was pretty full, we had no problem walking downstream far enough to find some open water.

My son is 15 and had done well earlier in the week in Wyoming, and he was excited by the prospect of a bigger fish here.

Thankfully, the river cooperated, giving up several, including a beautiful 17” Rainbow that was his biggest fish to date.

Not long after, the weather changed as it seems to do a lot in Big Sky Country. After a brief, heavy rainstorm, we were welcomed back onto the river by a full rainbow overhead, with colors that inspired the name of the trout we were after. This bright rainbow seemed to be saying that there were more fish to be had, so we continued fishing and catching till dark.

We have enough Irish in our family that when we think of Rainbows, we naturally think of pots of gold. So at the end of the day, having seen both kinds of rainbows, we were greeted by a golden sunset over the river that one of the locals said was spectacular even by Montana standards.

Appreciating what the day had given us, we thanked the Madison, the state of Montana, and the conservation efforts of American Rivers and local partners for sharing Montana’s treasure once again.

Today’s blog was originally published by Charlton Bonham and Steve Rothert as an op-ed on The Sacramento Bee.

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For the first time in 100 years, spring-run Chinook salmon could return to their historical spawning habitat in the Sierra Nevada’s North Yuba River under a framework agreement recently announced by the California Department of Fish and Wildlife, National Marine Fisheries Service, Yuba County Water Agency, American Rivers, Trout Unlimited and the California Sportfishing Protection Alliance.

If the Yuba Salmon Partnership Initiative agreement is concluded, it would create the first “collect-and-transport” program for salmon in California, like those used at numerous dams in Oregon and Washington. Salmon need access to their habitat above dams in the Sierra Nevada now, not later.

After years of study, we have learned that the choice in the Yuba River is not whether to remove the Corps of Engineers’ Englebright Dam, as suggested by Yvon Chouinard and Matt Stoecker (“The wrong way to save salmon on the Yuba,” Viewpoints, July 23).

Rather, it is a choice between re-connecting salmon to 30 miles of prime habitat soon, or doing nothing for decades while attempts are made to address the environmental, financial and public safety challenges of removing the dam.

At 260 feet high, Englebright is too tall for fish ladders.

It holds 28 million cubic yards of debris, some of it contaminated with arsenic, mercury and other toxic substances. That material would have to be removed prior to breaching the dam, or it would pose a potentially serious risk to downstream communities.

Removing the dam could cost as much as $3 billion, but would not give salmon access to the best habitat in the North Yuba River.

We agree that transporting fish around dams in trucks is not ideal. Fish agencies will need a strategy for bringing salmon back in each unique watershed. Sometimes dam removal will be the best choice, other times not.

We must make progress wherever and however we reasonably can to recover California’s salmon and steelhead runs. We choose to act now. We invite advocates of removing Englebright Dam to work with us to ensure our effort is successful, until other strategies become viable.

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Charlton Bonham is director of the California Department of Fish and Wildlife. Steve Rothert is California Regional Director of American Rivers.

This past week, our family took our yearly trip to visit the Feather River region of Northern California. Even in what are considered wet years, this is a dry and arid place. The tall grasses are crisp and easy to break as you walk through the meadows, and the air feels like it is drawing moisture right from your skin. It’s a nice break from the humidity of North Carolina that we always look forward to. But this year, we have been hearing from the news and our friends how tough the four-year drought has been on California and its rivers, and we were concerned what we might find.

As a microcosm of our concern, there’s one little fish that I had been worried about. Several years ago while exploring the area, I found a small Rainbow trout that lived in a very small pool within a very small stream (“stream” is too big of a word for this trickle of water) that drains a meadow and finds its way to the Middle Fork of the Feather River. The pool is only about 18 inches deep and no more than three feet wide. It is well protected by overhanging bushes and grass pods, and it looked like a place that a little trout might live. As a devoted fisherman, I wanted to see what might be there, so I crouched down, safely back from the pool. After quietly waiting for several minutes, I saw a small trout, only about 5 inches long, swimming on the edges of the shadows. It seemed perfectly happy and seemed to have all of its needs being met. The water runs clear through this little pool, and there must be enough bugs there to keep it going. It was a great little scene with nature’s cycle condensed down in this little pool on the edge of a California meadow. (Click here to learn more about our work to restore Sierra meadows.)

Each year since finding it, I have gone back to see how the little fish is doing. I sneak up on the pool, being careful to not spook the fish with my shadow or to make any noise that might cause it to swim for cover. When I find the fish there, I feel that all must be right with the world for this little trout to have survived another year. It has always been a little bigger than the year before and last year was right around 7 inches long – tiny by trout standards, but plenty big for this stream.

Being worried about what might have happened during these last few months, a few days ago I crept up to the pool and was thrilled to see that there was still some water there. I had envisioned that it would be completely dry and that the little trout would have lost its fight against the drought. But there the pool was, with its water level lower than normal by almost a foot, but still there. It wasn’t a lot of water, but perhaps enough for the trout to still be there, too. And as I crouched down, peering into the clear water, I saw what I had been hoping to see. The little trout was there on the edge of the shadows and seemed to be doing fine. Looking a little closer, I noticed another trout farther back in the pool and a few one-inch-long progeny that were holding their own, as well.

During Bill Clinton’s first campaign for the White House, he would wrap up his speeches by saying, “I still believe in a place called Hope.” With that in mind, I decided to name this little fish Hope. I was so pleased to see that she had made it thus far through one of the toughest droughts in memory, and though the water was way down, she and her family were holding on.

As I stepped back from this little stream with a smile on my face, I thought to myself that I still believe in a fish called Hope.

Often at sites of complicated dam removal projects, we conduct monitoring to assess the impact that the project has had on the surrounding environment and examine overall stream health. On the Patapsco River in Maryland, we have removed two dams (Union and Simkins dams) and are preparing to remove a third (Bloede Dam) in Patapsco Valley State Park. As a result, we have partnered with various agencies and contractors to conduct monitoring of both physical characteristics, such as water flow rate and sediment movement, and biological characteristics, such as the presence of fish and macroinvertebrates at different sites along the river.

Recently, I had the opportunity to go out for a day in the field to check out one of the studies being conducted by the Maryland Biological Stream Survey on American eel presence in the Patapsco River both downstream and upstream of Bloede Dam. Not only do I always welcome a day out on the river, but I got to reconnect with my eel friends! I studied American eel (they’re awesome and they are not snakes, so don’t hate on them) in graduate school for my thesis research project. The life history of this species is just fascinating! But I digress…

I donned some waders, threw on my camera backpack, put my biologist hat on, and climbed through the brush to our first sampling site. My research companions explained that they would be using a backpack electroshock device to briefly stun the eels and other fish. They then scooped the eels up into a net and put them in a water-filled bucket. Other species encountered along the way were noted on a data sheet.

After 10 minutes of electrofishing, it was time to measure and weigh the eels. William Harbold, who works for the Maryland Biological Stream Survey, has devised this fantastic measuring contraption for their eel research. If you have never tried to hold an eel, they are very slippery little critters. This measuring device helps keep their wiggling bodies contained a bit while you get a quick measurement of their length. Very cool.

Once we had them all weighed and measured, the now very awake eels were released back into the river. There are ten sampling sites for American eel in the Patapsco as part of this monitoring effort. We had to keep moving, so we packed up our gear and traipsed upstream to the next site. Due to a complication involving my short legs, I ended up separated from the group and in a heavy thicket of vines. Given my historically poor reaction to poison ivy, I decided to head back out to the road and wait for the team.

At the subsequent sites, I donned a net and attempted to catch any stray eels. I helped record the eel length and weight data at one of the sites. Then, it was time for some eel wrangling! You might think that the eels would have been more subdued, having just been shocked, but no. Those slippery little fish tried very hard to jump out of my measuring device. At least I wasn’t afraid to scramble after them to get the numbers recorded.

As we worked on our last site of the day, I felt so grateful to be out on the river. On American Rivers’ Restoration Team, we are fighting every day (mostly from our desk chairs) to open up rivers for fish, wildlife, and people. When I have time to reconnect with nature, I always appreciate the work that I do. I strive to preserve that sense of calm that rivers provide, and the knowledge that we’re doing right by Mother Nature, one river at a time.