1701
Green & indigenous News
125 readers
66 users here now
A community for Green & indigenous news!
founded 1 month ago
MODERATORS
1702
1703
3
“Geology with a soul:” New OMSI exhibit highlights Indigenous storytelling and geology
(ictnews.org)
Lyric Aquino
Underscore Native News + Report for America
Indigenous stories are more than myths — they’re lessons informed by traditional knowledge and historical accounts according to research from Roger Amerman and Ellen Morris Bishop, in the newest exhibit at the Oregon Museum of Technology and Industry.
“Heads and Hearts: Seeing the Landscape Through Nez Perce Eyes” invites visitors to view history in the Pacific Northwest through a Nimiipuu, or Nez Perce, lense. Running through Feb. 16, the exhibit uses stories from Nimiipuu to explore ancient geological events, like the eruption of Mount Mazama (leading to the creation of Crater Lake), as well as ice age floods, earthquakes, and landslides.
“You have these stories that are oftentimes sort of morally and ethically important, but they’re also geologically important,” Morris Bishop, a consulting geologist for the exhibit, said.
Ethnogeologist Roger Amerman, Choctaw Nation citizen (left), and geologist Ellen Morris Bishop (right) stand in front of panels from the exhibit they consulted on “Heads & Hearts: Seeing the Landscape through Nez Perce Eyes.” Amerman said he hopes presenting research with Morris Bishop will inspire other to conduct ethnogeology research across the world.
(Photo by Lyric Aquino, Underscore Native News + Report for America)
For nearly two years Amerman, a Choctaw Nation citizen and ethnogeologist, and Morris Bishop, gathered legends from the Nimiipuu storytellers and used them to further understand geological events they’ve studied in Western science.
Traditional geology consists of the study of minerals and rocks and the structure of the Earth’s surface to understand its history and composition. According to Amerman, both geologists practiced ethnogeology, or the Indigenous understanding of landscape for geologic history processes and materials, during their researching process. Meaning, they used historical insights from various tribes, particularly the Nez Perce, to understand the ancient history of geological events.
Including the voices of tribal leaders and storytellers was important to Amerman and Morris Bishop. With permission, they spent time filming traditional stories from the Nez Perce for the exhibit and sharing their research with the tribe.
Nez Perce knowledge holders were taken on a trip up through Snake River and Hell’s Canyon while they shared their stories. According to Morris Bishop, for many of them it was their first time in the heart of their homeland.
“It was important to us to basically tell the story of how these people who lived here for probably 20,000 years understood their landscape, and had witnessed and understood a lot of geologic events, like earthquakes, Ice Age, floods and many landslides, and how those were captured in their stories,” she said.
A petroglyph in the “Heads & Hearts: Seeing the Landscape through Nez Perce Eyes” exhibit. The petroglyph depicts a good productive location to hunt bighorn sheep. (Photo by Lyric Aquino, Underscore Native News + Report for America)
In one of the stories an elder provided anecdotal evidence of historic floods coming through Hell’s Canyon around 16,000 to 14,000 years ago and what the tribe did to seek refuge during the disaster. The legend states the Nez Perce climbed to the top of Steptoe Butte and shared the area with wildlife including cougars, bears, otters and raccoons who were seeking shelter from the flood.
But for Morris-Bishop and Amerman, these details gave them important insight into how far and high floodwaters extended. While these stories, which they call “mythical truths,” incorporate both truthful and fictional elements, Morris Bishop said the stories needed characters to make them memorable to withstand time.
“You need to be able to tell people about these floods, but you need characters in a story,” she said. “So it’s better if you have the mythical old man who climbs to the top of a rock in order to fish when there’s a big flood.”
Petroglyphs sit in front of panels filled with details about the eruption of Mount Mazama, an ancient earthquake and ice age flooding from Ethnogeologist Roger Amerman, Choctaw Nation citizen, and geologist Ellen Bishop in the “Heads & Hearts: Seeing the Landscape through Nez Perce Eyes.” (Photo by Lyric Aquino, Underscore Native News + Report for America)
One legend that stuck with Amerman was about the creation of Crater Lake.
Over 7,700 years ago Mount Mazama erupted and coated the Pacific Northwest in white-hued ash. Indigenous coastal tribes in the area witnessed the eruption and surrounding tribes who didn’t, felt the long-lasting effects.
During their research, Ammerman said a storyteller described the tribe being completely inundated with volcanic ash for days or perhaps months which affected the plants and their day to day lives. The ash from the volcanic winter was then collected and used as decoration in the hair of Nez Perce leaders to signify status and power.
Morris Bishop said details from the Klamath tribe’s recounting of the eruption of Mount Mazama provided details that well-known geologist Charlie Bacon had no evidence of. In the Klamath tribe’s story, there was an earthquake before the eruption. But in original research of Crater Lake there was no evidence of an earthquake before eruption. However, once a LIDAR machine, which uses lasers to create highly accurate 3D maps and models of surfaces, was used, a fault scarp North of Crater Lake was found dating back to around the time of the eruption indicating that an earthquake did take place.
White volcanic ash from the 6,000 year-old eruption of Mt. Mazama in Western Oregon. (Photo by Lyric Aquino, Underscore Native News + Report for America) Credit: Brooke Morgan, curator of anthropology at the Illinois State Museum, sits at her desk at the museum in Springfield, Illinois on Aug. 18, 2023. Illinois officials and Native Americans whose ancestors called the state home hope a new state law will speed the recovery and reburial of their ancestors’ remains that were unearthed over the past two centuries. (Photo by Melissa Winder, AP)
As ethnogeology continues to make its way through the science community, Morris Bishop hopes to take the exhibit to other museums including the Museum of the American Indian.
Amerman said these mythical truths are “geology with a soul” and restore humanity to ancient Indigenous peoples. He encourages current geologists and upcoming ones to look at Indigenous knowledge as science and use ethnogeology to further research.
“It just gives our Native people our humanity. We’re the only ones who were here for over 17,000 years,” he said. “We have something to share and it can help you too.”
“Heads and Hearts: Seeing the Landscape through Nez Perce Eyes” will be open at OMSI through February 16 during regular operating hours, and is included with usual museum admission.
The post “Geology with a soul:” New OMSI exhibit highlights Indigenous storytelling and geology appeared first on ICT.
From ICT via This RSS Feed.
1704
1705
1706
1707
1710
1711
1712
1713
1714
1715
1716
In 1843, Congress gave Samuel Morse $30,000 to try to send a telegram from Washington, D.C., to Baltimore. Rather than bury the transmission wires underground, where technical issues would be hard to identify, the inventor of Morse code strung them along wooden poles and trees. When the system was completed about a year later, the first transmitted message read: “What hath God wrought?”
This was the beginning of the modern electrical grid, and although demand for electricity has increased exponentially since then, the system for distributing electricity remains remarkably similar to its initial, 19th century version, especially the utility poles. Trees have to meet stringent standards to become a utility pole, remaining free of knots, scars, swelling, or contact with the ground, but poles are still vulnerable to extreme weather — prone to electrical fires, wildfires, and frigid temperatures.
As the country grapples with skyrocketing power demand, extreme weather events now spur contentious debates about what kinds of energy work best. Conservatives blamed the California heat wave blackouts in 2020 on renewable energy, and climate advocates blamed the freeze in Texas in 2021 on the state’s reliance on natural gas, with each side claiming that its resources are more reliable. Winter Storm Fern barreled across the country this week, resurrecting concerns over the grid in Texas, where the state has added ample solar batteries, and in New England, which lost access to hydropower from Canada.
So far, power plants across the country have held up just fine, whether running on renewables or fossil fuels. But the storm revealed another vulnerability in the country’s aging power grid — the wires and poles that carry electricity from house to house.
“That last mile of the grid is extremely vulnerable,” said Costa Samaras, the director of the Wilton E. Scott Institute for Energy Innovation and a professor at Carnegie Mellon University. “The equipment’s old, or the poles themselves are old, and they can break under extreme events. Those types of boring infrastructure investments are really critical to ensuring that we have reliability and resilience under extreme events.”
In most of the country, this infrastructure “is becoming one of the main drivers of electricity cost increases,” said Michelle Soloman, a manager in the electricity program at Energy Innovation, a clean energy think tank. The bill has come due on much of the grid, Soloman explained. There’s currently a transformer shortage in the United States, and the Trump administration’s tariffs has made replacing infrastructure significantly more expensive.
“When we think about how to reduce electricity costs for consumers, certainly making sure that we’re finding ways to reduce the cost of those components is really important,” Soloman said.
The biggest damage done by Winter Storm Fern was to a series of power lines owned by the Tennessee Valley Authority, or TVA, a federal power provider established under the New Deal in the 1930s. The storm toppled more than two dozen transmission lines that feed power to smaller utilities across Mississippi, Tennessee, and Louisiana, and iced over some of the TVA’s other infrastructure. That left those smaller utilities without the energy they needed to keep the lights on. As of Wednesday afternoon, at least 300,000 customers in those three states still lacked power, according to the website PowerOutage.us.
Meanwhile, the TVA’s power plants made it through without disruption. The authority weatherized its main coal and gas plants after the catastrophic Winter Storm Elliott in 2022, which caused the first rolling blackouts in the TVA’s history and cost the authority $170 million. This time around, the generation plants all stayed online despite record levels of power demand.
The worst-affected utility during this week’s winter storm has been Entergy, which serves most of Louisiana along with parts of Texas and Mississippi. Winter Storm Fern knocked out power for more than 171,000 customers at its peak, and took out hundreds of pieces of infrastructure — the utility estimates that at least 30 transmission lines, 860 poles, and 60 substations went out of service.
Entergy is used to getting knocked around by extreme weather. After Hurricane Ida struck Louisiana in 2021, Entergy lost more than 30,000 poles. Its main transmission tower carrying power into New Orleans collapsed in 150-mile-per-hour winds, cutting off power deliveries to the Crescent City. Not all this damage was inevitable: Entergy’s critics pointed out that nearby Florida had spent billions to harden its grid against storms with stronger poles and underground power lines. This allowed the Sunshine State to restore power much more quickly after similar hurricanes.
Read Next
Yes, climate change can supercharge a winter storm. Here’s how.
The smaller utilities that cut power during Winter Storm Fern often don’t have the resources to pursue such repairs. Power poles only get replaced every 50 years or so, and replacing a pole network can cost millions of dollars. It’s this repair work, rather than the need to serve new data centers, that explains why power prices have risen over recent years. Researchers at Lawrence Berkeley National Laboratory found that the “primary driver of increased electricity-sector costs in recent years has been distribution and transmission expenditures — often devoted to refurbishment or replacement of existing infrastructure.” By far the greatest cost increase was in California, where utilities have had to spend billions of dollars to harden their grids against wildfires.
Even when utilities do invest in grid resilience, some storms can still break through. More than 30,000 customers of the North East Mississippi Electric Power Association lost power during the peak of the outage brought on by Winter Storm Fern, and the utility had only restored power to 5,000 customers as of Tuesday morning. The electric co-op spends about $2 million a year to remove trees and other vegetation around its power lines, according to a spokesperson, but the storm outpaced those efforts.
“When large trees — some more than 30 feet tall — fall due to extreme ice loading, there is limited ability to prevent damage entirely,” said spokesperson Sarah Brooke Bishop. “We continually evaluate opportunities to strengthen and improve system resilience, but events of this magnitude will still result in significant impacts.”
Changing the material of the poles could help mitigate damage. A standard wood pole is pressure-treated to protect against fungi, humidity, and insects — but in extreme conditions, there’s only so much you can do to prevent wood from rotting. The first fiberglass composite poles were installed in Hawaii in the 1960s, to withstand high humidity and wind speeds. Composite poles installed in Mexico and Grand Bahama have survived hurricane force winds intact, and are an increasingly appealing choice for utility companies, looking to protect customers from the vagaries of extreme weather.
The upfront costs of installing these fiberglass poles are substantial though. Composite poles cost roughly $5,000 before installation costs — compared to roughly $1,000 for a wooden pole — but they require less upkeep and are cheaper in the long run. Repurposing old wind turbine blades could lower the cost, although the wind industry’s expansion under the Trump administration looks uncertain.
The fastest and easiest way to improve reliability, Solomon said, would be by incentivizing local battery storage. “By strategically placing batteries at certain spots on the grid where you might otherwise need to do an upgrade,” she explained, utilities could avoid some of the long-standing outages brought on by downed power lines. Homeowners could be compensated for purchasing their own batteries and allowing some of that energy to flow back to the grid in times of crisis.
Ultimately, there’s no way around the fact that “our distribution system requires generation reinvestment,” Samaras said. Burying lines underground, building smarter controls to identify problems underground, and creating a strong network of distributed energy resources will all be required to deal with the growing threat of extreme weather.
This story was originally published by Grist with the headline The winter storm exposed the grid’s real weakness: Lots of old poles on Jan 28, 2026.
From Grist via This RSS Feed.
1717
1718
1719
1720
1722
1724
In a scene from the film Rising Through the Fray, members of the Indigenous Rising roller derby team cheer from the bench at the Y’Allstars Southern Skate Showdown tournament in ‘Louisiana.’ Image courtesy of Nish Media
A documentary about a multinational all-Indigenous roller derby team is skating into theatres across the country this week.
Rising Through the Fray, by Kanien’kehá:ka (Mohawk) filmmaker Courtney Montour, chronicles the journey of Team Indigenous Rising.
The team, formerly known simply as Team Indigenous, describes itself as “borderless” because it’s rooted in cultural identity, not local geography — its skaters come together from dozens of nations despite colonial boundaries dividing them.
Montour, from the community of Kahnawà:ke, spent several years filming Team Indigenous Rising for her latest project.
In an interview with IndigiNews, she says she’d been following roller derby throughout her life.
But when she heard an all-Indigenous team would attend the Roller Derby World Cup in the United Kingdom, she knew the public had to hear its story.
Founded in 2017, the roller derby team boasts athletes from more than 30 Indigenous nations, according to its website.
“There’s just a real sense of pride,” Montour tells IndigiNews, “and again, something that’s historic and groundbreaking that we need to celebrate.”
Montour’s previous film credits include the 2021 documentary Mary Two-Axe Earley: I Am Indian Again, and a docuseries with journalist Tanya Talaga, The Knowing, for which the pair won a Canadian Screen Award.
A trailer for Courtney Montour’s 88-minute documentary Rising Through the Fray, about the Indigenous Rising roller derby team. The film screens across the country this week
Film much more than a sports documentary
A heavy-hitting, high-speed contact sport, roller derby is played on a flat track by athletes wearing rollerskates.
Montour’s 88-minute film guides viewers through the sport’s unique rules, scoring system, and colourful jargon — making it easy to understand how players with roles such as “jammer” and “blocker” compete during matches, known as “bouts.”
The film features high-energy scenes from competitions, as well as some of the players’ stories behind the scenes, highlighting the passion and athleticism of each teammate.
“Yes, it’s set against the backdrop of roller derby, but it’s not a sports documentary,” Montour says.
“It’s about finding community, belonging and representation.”
Montour first met Indigenous Rising in 2018, and her crew began filming the following year. But COVID-19 soon paused the project.
Three years ago they resumed filming, with filmmakers attending the team’s first reunion in years.
Since restarting, the crew followed players from tournament to tournament, documenting both the competitions and relationships that reveal Indigenous Rising’s strong sense of teamwork.
“Altogether, we brought these perspectives of, ‘How are we going to show the sport for people who might not know it?’” says Montour.
She ensured the film also portrayed Indigenous Rising team members’ home lives, not just their time on the track and tournament spaces.
The result is a heartfelt film encompassing many aspects of what goes into the impactful sport — and an in-depth look into how Team Indigenous Rising has broken the mold of this contact sport.
Indigenous Rising roller derby team members cheer a chant, ‘Strong, Resilient, Indigenous!’ before hitting the track at the Y’Allstars Southern Skate Showdown tournament. Image courtesy of Nish Media
‘The protagonists’ story … lives on’ in film
To tell the story, Montour decided to focus her profile on three players on the team, nicknamed Krispy, Hawaiian Blaze and Sour Cherry, who “all had very different and unique stories of connection from their culture and identity,” she explains.
“But at the same time, it’s very universal. I think wherever you come from, their story resonates with many, many people.”
Her filming crew were able to capture the team’s “intimate moments” thanks to building trust thanks to “long relationship-building.”
“I think that’s something that’s really important in documentary storytelling,” Montour notes.
“In any documentary, it’s the participants — the protagonists’ story — that lives on,” she adds.
“And I always carry that message and thought when I’m working on films.”
For her, following the story of Indigenous Rising revealed the team’s own “evolution.”
Sagkeeng First Nation member Sherry Bontkes — whose chosen roller derby nickname is Sour Cherry — first became interested in roller derby as a child with her sister.
She tells IndigiNews she would sneak downstairs to watch the sport on TV.
In 2005, she decided to start a league of her own. She remembers soon finding more and more people jumping on board to join her.
“Roller derby back then is not what it is now,” she says. “So it was kind of neat being part of the revival.”
The sport traces its origins back roughly 100 years — but its roots lie in 19th century roller-skating race competitions.
Part of the competitive team sport’s more recent surge in popularity is its use of a flat track instead of the banked or angled track — a form which itself still has dedicated leagues.
Using a more common flat surface means roller derby bouts can happen almost anywhere in the world without specialized infrastructure.
Bontkes’ role in Indigenous Rising has changed over the years as injuries off the track have hindered her ability to compete in the tournaments. But she’s remained committed to her team.
She even broke her ankle during filming — but changed team roles to help coach her fellow players, staying tightly involved during what she remembers as an emotional time.
Her journey to recovery is followed in the film as Bontkes has to inform her teammates of her injury and is later shown attending physical therapy to determine her progress and if she can return to the track.
“It was devastating because I wasn’t sure if I’d ever be on skates again,” she says. “It’s always tough coming back out of an injury to play this game.
“But when you’re so passionate about playing, it’s hard not to come back … in some sort of capacity.”
She remains determined, however — and notes she hopes to find a way back onto her skates again.
“I hope I can come back,” she says. “I really want to, but I don’t know.
“I’ll be 55 in a few weeks, and it’s a tough call to make when you’re aging.”
Sagkeeng First Nation member Sherry Bontkes, also known as Sour Cherry, works out to prepare for a roller derby bout in the documentary Rising Through the Fray. Image courtesy of Nish Media
Prayers, smudging and dances: community on the derby track
Montour and Bontkes both comment on the do-it-yourself nature of roller derby and the challenges that it puts on the players.
Bontkes notes that once you’re a part of the league there is a lot more to learn.
“You really do have to commit yourself to not only paying attention to the athletic part of it, but how to run a league,” she says.
She adds that they learn about the production and executive responsibilities as that falls upon people who volunteer to ensure the bouts run smoothly.
For Bontkes, she says the sport enveloped her.
While there were many positives for her, she mentions how taxing it could be on family, her body and her finances since expenses are out of pocket. But her feeling of accomplishment makes it all worthwhile.
“The rewards at the end of the day — at the end of the game, at the end of the practice, at the end of the tournament — that’s what mattered,” she says.
The film captures Team Indigenous Rising advancing its trailblazing journey as it held a tournament in “Colorado,” competing with other fellow teams that transcend international borders — including Black Diaspora, Fuego Latino and Jewish Roller Derby teams.
Through fundraising, Indigenous Rising was able to create this No Borders Derby Tournament for teams to come together and compete with one another and further their community bonds.
Before the event began, a local community member tells the filmmakers about the hostility experienced by Indigenous people there — a context that made such an intersectional sports competition feel even more important to participants and fans alike.
Offering a space for borderless teams to play brought positivity into the community.
Team member Hawaiian Blaze discussed how different the tournament feels as it’s all about representation and inclusivity.
She described being surrounded by players from many other “borderless” communities as a beautiful feeling.
The film captures that tournament’s laughter and joy, as teams cheered each other on — and even held a dance break during technical difficulties with the event’s scoreboard.
Packed with intense plays on the track and moments of togetherness — including prayers and smudging — the tournament demonstrated a beautiful sense of the community being built by teams joining together across both differences and shared experiences.
In one scene from the film, Indigenous Rising players Hawaiian Blaze and Sour Cherry share a moment of connection during a smudging ceremony at the No Borders Derby tournament in ‘Colorado.’ Image courtesy of Nish Media
‘I found family in roller derby’
Montour explains what for her is “the beauty of the film” — as it explores the bonds forming between players, stemming from their similarities both in their love of the sport and from their own cultural backgrounds.
“When you’re surrounded by people who have similar stories and experiences like you, it falls into place, and it feels like family,” she says. “And you can sense that through the entire film.”
She explains that the documentary explores “issues that challenge Indigenous folk to connect and be a part of their culture and communities,” Montour says, “and to see the resiliency and the importance of representation in mainstream spaces to allow that reconnection.”
There’s another layer added to her project as she connected with members of Indigenous Rising, seeing players from many diverse communities come together as a group.
Player Bontkes recalls the self-discovery she uncovered being part of a team sharing similar stories and backgrounds as Indigenous athletes.
She recounts being removed from her birth parents during the Sixties Scoop — but finding herself unable to share that key experience to her local roller derby teammates.
Joining Indigenous Rising opened the door to feeling more comfortable sharing her story. And eventually she even went on to reconnect with her biological family, a life-changing moment she attributes to her time in roller derby.
“I don’t think I would have done that without my roller derby journey and discovering that I’m not the only one,” she says.
“I found family — and it wasn’t just my birth family, I found family in roller derby, I found family with my team.”
‘Finding our space — win, lose, it didn’t matter’
The film’s most emotional moments are at the heart of its story, Montour says. But teammates’ laughter, pride and celebration are also key parts of the documentary.
For Bontkes, the relationships forged with fellow teammates and their sense of community are what matter most.
“It was just about being together, it was about finding our space — win, lose, it didn’t matter,” she explains.
“We just had fun playing as an Indigenous team and being together on the track and, of course, off the track.”
She also commends Montour’s unique storytelling perspective in the film. The team’s audience at competitions see the players in action, but rarely get to see their story or journey off the track.
“I love the human story that this film portrayed,” Bontkes says.
She imagines herself reminiscing on being a member of Indigenous Rising, and being grateful for all that came from her time with the team.
“I think I’ll still look back on this and shine and just glow from everything that’s happened in my derby career,” she says. “And this is the highlight.”
Sherry Bontkes (front left), one of the documentary’s profiled roller derby players — nicknamed Sour Cherry — joins a pre-game strategy meeting in a hotel room before hitting the track with Indigenous Rising teammates. Film still courtesy of Nish Media
Filming process meant to foster safety and trust
At the beginning of the film, one of the team’s coaches, Kristina Glass— nicknamed Krispy — discusses how roller derby has historically been primarily a women’s sport.
Montour ensured her film crew was also composed of women she had worked with before and trusted.
“I intentionally sought out an all-female crew for this film because of the subject matter,” she explains.
“Because of the sport itself being an all-female or female-identified non-binary sport, it was really important to also have that representation within our crew.”
Montour also hails roller derby as a queer-friendly space where community can gather, adding to the warm reception of the sport she hoped to capture on screen.
She sees her documentary as a proud showcase of some of the heart and passion behind the Indigenous Rising team — creating a well-rounded profile of its athletes’ connection and teamwork.
As she profiled the three main protagonists featured in the film, Montour ensured she was in close communication with each of them to portray their lives in a way that worked for each participant.
“One of the most important things for me is communication and relationship building,” she explains of her artistic process.
Indigenous Rising holds its first roller derby practice during the Y’Allstars Southern Skate Showdown tournament in ‘Louisiana’ after the pandemic paused the contact sport. Image courtesy of Nish Media
It was through constant conversations that she ensured stories each participant told were ones they were comfortable sharing, striving for a safe space for all involved.
Montour showed the players versions of her edits to make sure everyone was comfortable with the project.
“It’s their stories, their lives, that are going to live on in this,” she recalls, “and I want them to feel proud of what they shared.”
She also carefully considered cultural sensitivities during filming, too.
For instance, as she documented two of the team’s smudging ceremonies, she only included footage from a few short moments out of respect for the sacredness of the rituals.
“What they’re sharing in that space is for them,” she explains. “It’s for the team.”
Montour believes her film can connect and resonate with the experiences of many Indigenous people who see it.
She also hopes the general public can “see the incredible strength in Indigenous Rising,” she tells IndigiNews, “to connect with those universal stories of belonging and seeing the need for representation in the mainstream.”
Rising Through the Fray is set for cross-country screenings starting this Thursday in “Montreal,” followed by a Q&A with Montour. Subsequent showings are set for Friday in “Edmonton” featuring Bontkes, and on Saturday in “Winnipeg” with Montour.
The film will also have its international debut at the Santa Barbara Film Festival on Feb. 5 and 7.
Tickets and other upcoming screenings can be found on the documentary’s website.
The post Smudging on skates: Indigenous roller derby team slams onto the big screen appeared first on Indiginews.
From Indiginews via This RSS Feed.
1725