As It Is: Pond Visits, Solitude, and Ecological Understanding

William James - Anthropology Major, University of NorthTexas

My alarm never goes off. I always wake 10 to15 minutes before, silently glide out of bed while my wife snores (yes....she does), and grab the first shirt and jeans that are hanging in the closet because I don't want to turn the lights on and wake her. She says people think I have only one shirt and pair of pants, I tell her she needs to stop sticking them at the front after she does the laundry. I go to the kitchen, put my pot of coffee on, and pet the pups. Buddy is half Lab and half ….something; Chester is a Border Terrier (12 pounds soaking wet).  We found both of them at the pound on different occasions. Buddy was a sweet pup with awkwardly huge feet. Chester was very ugly with a twisted, matted, long coarse overcoat. As he kept licking my wife's face, we were told he was going to be put down soon. She said she would clean him up and he would be her lap dog. So now, four years, later “I” have two dogs.

Mandala, what an apt description of my little circle. I've sat here repeatedly almost every morning over the last two years and contemplated everything from marriage, to my children, to unemployment. My pups have been my companions for most of these walks. I would only leave them behind due to inclement weather, of the kind I fear Frik and Frak couldn't handle, or because I had found something interesting that I wanted to take a look at without being disturbed. In the twilight hours before you hear the Rooster crow, and the spying of the first of the soccer moms in spandex jogging with their iPods and headphones about 300 yards away on the concrete sidewalks, this place is my Fortress Of Solitude (F.O.S, I hate to say mandala, it's been taken). All around the neighborhood sidewalks, there is graffiti, the lack of it on the concrete embankment next to the pond here puzzled me, until I found out there is no cell phone reception, hence, no teenagers venture out this far into the wilderness, they would die in several minutes from lack of social networking. In the last couple of months I've gained a new appreciation for my F.O.S. In August I had my cataracts removed. My wife insisted that I have the operation, after it became apparent I couldn't drive at night anymore. I never realized how blind I had really been for the last several years.

 

October 2, 2013 - I was sitting at the edge of the pond throwing sticks and rocks into the water for Buddy to chase (he loves to swim), when I noticed an odd shell sticking out of the mud at my feet. It wasn't at all like the typical freshwater bivalves you usually see in cow ponds. I brought the shell home and after several hours of research, determined that it was a “Devil's Toenail,” Exogyra ponderosa. I sat there marveling at it as I flipped it over and performed a detailed inspection. Here were the remains of a species that dates to100 million years ago. While it slid across the Cretaceous sea bed, going about its plodding cycle of filtering the salty water for phytoplankton, above it there were Plesiosaurs stalking small sharks. The oysters were fed upon by a huge 30 foot shark with thousands of molars, Ptychodus (it's amazing the things that you do remember from when you're twelve). Perhaps this explains the large amount of what I now recognize as shell fragments scattered across the local fields? It boggles the mind to think that we are now living in an area, which 100 million years ago was a warm shallow sea that separated Western North America from the Northeastern seaboard, tens of millions of years before our first rodent-like ancestors were stealing eggs from dinosaur nests.
 

Later that evening I made my way back to the pond.  During those thirty minutes, I paid close attention to the mudshell I was walking on. By the time I reach the water's edge I had seven different types of bivalves and ammonites in my pockets. After closer inspection, the rock where I frequently stop to scrape the mud off of my boots appears to be a huge mollusk. As I stood there examining my finds I noticed the many opened and crushed mussels on the shore. The water levels have dropped by a huge amount this year in all the local ponds by at least four feet, even though it was much hotter last summer?  The exposed little mussels were ravaged by the cranes. I've always seen mussels in ponds, but I've never stopped to consider, how did they get there?

There is no overspill or flooding from a lake or river in this area, and the mussels were not put there to filter the water to encourage growth. These ponds were dug for aesthetics, for a never developed area of the subdivision. The area around the pond is now very overgrown. The pond was much larger at one time; due to the water level dropping it is now two ponds, the northern one being almost completely dry.  Last year I caught a four pound bass in the northern half, but just like the mussels, I never stopped to ask myself how the fish got there. I was curious enough at one time to ask the developers if the ponds were stocked and was bluntly told no, and that if there were fish in them, I was forbidden to try and catch them because it might disturb the tame ducks, what jerks! Luckily for me the housing implosion forced development to cease in the area where my pond sits.

I sat there tossing shells into the water while studying my surroundings. Could it be that very strong winds had blown the larvae here? I've read stories where it has rained fish, so perhaps somehow the larvae were carried up by a storm and dropped back down, miles away. While I was sitting there a crane landed on the other side of the pond. I froze; it was a Sandhill, a “Ribeye in the sky,” the most delicious animal on the face of the planet! I immediately began making plans to come back during the season in November with my pellet rifle, as it would make the least noise and not alarm any nearby soccer moms. However, soon I started to lose my enthusiasm as I watched the bird slowly make its way along the other bank. When I was younger, I was a very avid hunter, anything I ever killed, I ate. It was a lesson taught to me by my daddy, who made me eat a Mockingbird that I had shot for no reason. Mockingbirds are in no danger of becoming extinct because tastiness. Now days I'm more content to shoot animals with a camera, plus due to the scarcity of Sandhills in this area, this bird deserves its own F.O.S.

As the sun went down behind me I began to reminisce about my many duck hunts, and then it struck me, birds! Although the weather may have deposited larvae and fish eggs in the pond, the most obvious depositor would be birds - this is my hypothesis! I remembered that on many occasions when I was cleaning ducks, their feet and legs would be sticky from paddling through pods of fish eggs. The diver species were coated with them sometimes. Of course ducks probably don't peck at mussels and eat them (although they might?), but cranes definitely do. The cranes and egrets plod along the mud of the shore cracking the shells with their beaks. The mud that clings to their legs is carrying the mussel larvae, which gets deposited at every water hole they come to. The cranes are unknowingly providing for their own future food supply, seeding every nook and cranny of tributaries, lakes, ponds, and rivers for hundreds of miles. Now that the mussels are established in the pond, they are nature's underwater vacuum cleaners, as they filter the water for nutrients. The filtered water is now prime habitat for fingerling, which are eaten by the ducks. The ducks were in turn eaten by coyotes (and me). As I watched with the sun slowly setting behind me, I was jolted by the memory of an incident which happened earlier during the year. Feeling a bit uneasy, I headed home.

October 4, 2013 - It's been raining hard the last two mornings, however this morning there wasn't even a wind.  I filled my travel mug and had the pups follow me to the pond. Earlier during the year, we were walking to the pond when Buddy's hackles raised. Little Chester was a bit ahead and oblivious to the world as he sniffed every rock. I peered into the scrub Oaks which are thick on the northern side of the path, and could see movement in the morning light. It was coyotes, however they weren't interested in Buddy or me, they were trailing Chester.  Two of them broke into the field about twenty yards from Chester. I ran and screamed at them, they merely glanced at me and kept their eyes on Chester, they didn't break and run until I was almost all the way upon them. I looked back for Buddy, he was head down  and  making a deep chest growl as he stared down a big male also about twenty yards away. When I started back to Buddy with Chester at my feet, the male broke for the trees.

This was a  trend that I've noticed over the past two years. The coyotes  were staying out later in the daylight hours, and they were becoming bolder. On another occasion the year before, I was walking up to the pond, without the dogs, and saw a  raft of ducks in the middle. I heard the type of whining and panting that dogs do when they want something, such as waiting for you to throw a stick. I thought it must have been a dog. When I came to a spot in the trail where I could see the southeastern bank of the bank, I saw a small frustrated coyote pawing at the water, yelping at the ducks floating in the middle. He (or she) saw me, stopped for a second sniffed the air, and went back to its yelping. I sat down and watched for thirty minutes as the wild canine did this. It finally lost interest and left for the tree line. Not once did my presence disturb it. I almost wanted to go pet it.

On this particular morning the dogs and I were maybe ten yards from where we normally start down the bank, when two coyotes appeared at the top. One was a small female; I'm guessing that the other was a male, because the female was pregnant, in October?  They slowly ambled back to the trees, in no hurry, and not looking back. Strangely enough Buddy and Chester just sat there looking at them until they disappeared. We made our way to the sitting spot and I discovered a dead Sandhill that had been ripped to pieces. There have always been coyote tracks around the pond, but this was the first time I had ever found a kill.

I am not an authority on coyotes by any means, however I have seen plenty of pregnant ones, and it was always in the early summer. When I researched mating seasons, I found that the season typically runs from January until March. The articles did point out that because of the coyote’s range explosion, cross breeding with domestic dogs was becoming much more common as the mating seasons became confused. Is this why I have been seeing them more during the day, and does it explain why they were not intimidated by me? One article suggested that as much as 75% of cross bred dogs (mutts) in North East Texas contained up to 10% coyote DNA. I am more comforted by the thought of individual, or even packs, of somewhat timid coyotes being around, than I am about the possibility of a cross breed with the aggression of a Pit-bull and absolutely no fear of humans.

But could it be something more? I doubt that these animals are that hybridized? I believe we are simply running out of room.  Coyotes are a very adaptive species and what we are seeing is not unusual behavior, but a new behavior as it adapts  to an increasingly urban environment. And what about global warming? Is the change in temperature also changing the behavior of the coyotes? I read that Texas and Oklahoma have extended mating seasons because of the warm weather. As the weather warms and we have water supplies being concentrated in urban areas, it seems natural (at least in my mind) that this crepuscular behavior should increase as they hunt the animals at night that are forced to use communal water supplies. Put another way, if we see decreasing water supply locations, and we have forced communal sharing between predators and prey, then I would think that all the animals drinking from that location at roughly the same time, is highly improbable.  Someone is going to have to change their schedule. Since coyotes are far less skittish than say, raccoons or ducks, it would seem to me that the coyotes would remain nocturnal hunters, and daybreak drinkers.  However, as I said, I'm not an authority, but I believe that my little secluded pond might be a good place to observe coyote daylight activity, if I can get there early enough and find a better position to view it from downwind. I suppose instead of calling it my pond, I should refer to it as the coyote's pond.

October 7, 2013 - I sprained my ankle a couple of days ago digging fence posts, so I was really itching to get out of the house, the pups wouldn't be with me this morning, it looked like rain. I've finally learned my lesson about taking them out when it's wet in the fields, for some reason it drives Chester to go roll in the newly moistened cow manure. If I don't catch him in time, when we get home, he'll jump up on the furniture and possibly my bed, it has happened before.  Since I was alone that day and not having to worry about the dogs, I was able to take another route, which brought me to the top of a hill. I took out my binoculars and spied in the direction of the pond just when the sun was breaking, amazing, several yards from the north end there was a pig rooting, and I believe I could make out several piglets.

I've often found tracks around the pond, but this was the first time I had actually seen one of the pigs that made them, in the daylight. I have seen them at night with goggles.  I believe I could see coyotes in the brush, but I'm not sure. There were plenty of ducks and egrets also, my own little Serengeti. By the time I reached the west bank the pig had retreated, but her tracks were all around my sitting spot. As I mentioned before, when I was younger, I hunted a lot, however when it comes to accurately identifying tracks, I am a moron, but it appears deer had also used this spot sometimes during the night, as did raccoons. It stands to reason, there aren't that many clear areas around the pond.  Off to one side of the trail leading down to the water, I found scat. Using a stick to dissect it, I found small bones, parts of grasshoppers, and yellow seeds which I couldn't identify. It didn't look like normal coyote droppings, so I wonder if the bobcat is back? In any case, whether it was bobcat or coyote, it's easy to see how this omnivore could fill almost any niche that opens in an ever changing environment.

On several occasions over the last two years I've seen the cat or cats at a distance, once actually walking on the road in our subdivision at night. I find no strange coincidence that the neighborhood started experiencing a rash of missing dogs and cats out of people’s back yards, around the same time I first spotted Lynx rufus. Up went the posters of the missing pets, my neighbor said she believed that people were stealing them, since almost all of the missing dogs were small lap-dogs. I've never felt the need to alarm her to the fact that we have predators coming into our yards. I have found several dogs in many pieces when making my way to the pond in the mornings, and one house cat. It may seem strange but the thought of bobcats back in their original ranges despite the intrusion of humans, excites me. I've spent many mornings trying to get a picture, but it's like Sasquatch, every time you see one, you don't have a camera handy! But once again, why am I seeing animals that have always been primarily active at night?

October 9, 2013 - I find the pigs equally intriguing. No matter how many feral pigs you kill, when you blink your eyes, there are ten more. An omnivorous animal with no breeding season and large litters that experiences almost no natural predation could be a dangerous thing to an environment it's not native to. My brother was floored by the number of swine in Texas herds, I'm wondering why there aren't even more. Several years ago I overheard a rancher complaining about the damage that the pigs were doing to his property. I offered to help by hunting several of them, he said sure, take as many as you want and I'll only charge you $50.00 apiece. I was astounded, this man actually thought that he could recoup or even make more money by charging people to hunt them. So exactly, what was he complaining about?  I wonder if he ever sat down and did a real estimation of the monetary damage the pigs were doing to his ranch, not to mention his neighbors farms? In 2012 feral pigs caused over $65,000,000.00 worth of damage to Texas. The population stood at just under an estimated 3 million last year, with a 20% yearly growth rate.

Although it may sound like I'm anti-pig, I actually have a healthy respect for them. I have a tree hugging neighbor, who wanted me to sign her anti-fracking petition (petitions that I have signed... just not hers)  She drives a Hummer H2 that gets 10 miles to the gallon, which has never seen the mud. I long for the day she steps out the door in the morning and drops her latte upon discovering her immaculate pesticide/chemical saturated lawn, has been rooted by pigs overnight. Yep, it would make me happy to see that as I drive by her in my little, beat up,1992 Civic that gets 42 mpg (yes, I know I'm being smug for the wrong reason.)

This morning I left the pups at home again and was nearly at the pond before the sun was up. I had hoped to catch some pigs rooting. The field and the pond turned up empty of everything, not even a bird or rabbit today. I sat down with my coffee and started looking around when I noticed that the batch of  thistle located behind me, had a large portion of it missing, of course maybe it was always like that and I had just never noticed? I went up to the field where the pigs had been, but could not find any droppings. I was curious as to whether or not the pigs had been eating the thistle.

I've seen pigs eat poison ivy, so, I didn't find it that far-fetched that they might eat thistle. There were lots of holes, but no dung. I went back to my spot to sip coffee and throw rocks. Thistles, in this case Cirsium texanam; I've never really given them much thought. To me they were nothing more than a nuisance that I had to untangle from Chester's fall coat (along with cockleburs).  Then it dawned on me, could that be why they are prickly? They stick to the fur of animals and in this way distribute themselves over the landscape? I do know that if they are entirely dispersed by air, I would see them in my yard, I have every other wild plant and weed in the neighborhood, why not Cirsium texanam?

Texas Thistle may also have found a friend in an invasive species, the pig. Sometimes I tend to romanticize observations I make. When I was growing up on the Amite river, every board I found below the water stuck in the mud, just had to have come from Jean Lafitte's pirate ship, which was believed to have sunk somewhere around Port Vincent. I do the same thing when I see a wild pig, I imagine that they are descendants of the boars release by the Spanish Conquistadors in the 1500s, and they may well be. However I do keep myself in check by remembering that Europeans unleashed almost complete devastation upon Native Americans by exposing them to influenza, and small pox, and the chief agents of delivery were their mobile food stores, the pigs they brought with them. The pigs came into contact with other animals (deer, turkey, etc.) and passed the diseases on to Native Americans. Even the ground where they fed was contaminated.

Will we see the thistle start to change, because it's such an abundant plant that pigs like? Or are the pigs so indiscriminate in their eating habits that they don't take the time to select a plant based on color or taste?  I've also seen an abundance of cockleburs where the pigs have been rooting. I've been told that there's not one wild or domestic animal that's immune to its toxic effects, even blinding cattle. Could cockleburs eventually develop into an edible plant for the pigs? I wonder if pigs could become instinctively aware, perhaps by taste or smell, of the level of toxicity in a patch of cockleburs in a certain location, and choose to feed there. They wouldn't eat the plant intentionally in these locations, but sense that if they were to accidentally ingest the cockleburs, they would survive. The less potent plant is then spread to other locations, through feces or sticking to the bristles, with a lessening of the poisonous effects in each generation. Could it become a viable food source, if it were spread in such a manner?  Oh well, just wondering.

October 12, 2013 - This morning I was a little late getting out the door.  It's Saturday and I celebrated a big eBay sale the night before. I really needed my coffee this morning. Made it to the top of the trail leading down to the water, I stopped cold in my tracks, there was someone at my and the coyotes pond! I didn't want to seem like a snob because I know that he heard me walking up, so I made my way down to the water.  He seemed like a nice enough 12 year old kid, but as my wife has pointed out, “Will, sometimes you just don't like people!”  It's true. I'm not misanthropic, I don't actually dislike people, but here lately, I would rather spend most of my time, not around them.  Trips to the pond are my times to think.

I made a half-hearted introduction as he cast his line out. Fishing with spinners in this pond is useless, I prayed he wouldn't catch anything. I asked if he had seen any coyotes, he gave me one of those “get real old man” looks and said, “Nah, I doubt there are any around here anyway.” I then explained to him that the tracks all over the bank did in fact belong to coyotes and possibly bobcats. He gave me another uncertain look and continued to walk his line down the bank (even though there was no current?) I told him to be careful because the pond had been infested with Water Moccasins, which was not really a lie, I'm sure at one time or another it had been infested with Cottonmouths, I just hadn't seen any. 

I asked him if he was going to fish this particular pond all day, and mentioned how chances of catching something were much better in the maintained ponds (the ones I was told were not allowed to be fished), which were very far from this pond.  He said he was waiting for his buddy to call and they were going to Six Flags later. I told him he probably wasn't getting any bars out here (I think it has something to do with a nearby radio tower?). He checked his iPhone, and sure enough, two weak fluctuating bars. He packed his gear, said “take it easy” (not a single “Sir” included) and walked up the trail. A few seconds later I heard a dirt bike start. I knew he wouldn't have walked this far. Thank goodness for terrible reception.

The cool weather had finally done it, it had actually encouraged a teenager to get outside and do something moderately physical. I sat and sipped my coffee as I contemplated the fact that the integrity of the F.O.S had been compromised. It wasn't perfect but it had been mine. My boots were caked with at least three inches of smelly black mud with hundreds of pieces of shell clinging to it. Why smelly black mud? Why not the brick hard clay of the ridge a little more to the west (looks like the cliffs of Dover)? I walked to the top of the trail and performed a 360 scrutinization of the area. 

I don't know how I ever missed it before, but my pond is near the low point of what appears to be a huge bowl formed by low hills and ridges (well, huge to a boy from southern Louisiana). The Black thick mud shell would lead my untrained mind to think that perhaps at one time, this may have been a small lake, or perhaps a tributary? All along the banks of the pond there are wildflowers, it amazes me how much the area had changed after one good rain. Purple lilacs, Vitex agnus-castus, circle the pond willows on the pasture side, it really is pretty. I wonder how many ancient oysters that once covered this area, are responsible for the rich soil. I believe there are high levels of calcium in the shells. But how long would it take for it to be depleted? I know that my tomatoes grow like wildfire here, and I've not had to add any calcium to prevent bottom browning.

Understanding - Nancy Turner and Fikret Berkes (2006) use the term ecological understanding to refer to a set of attributes embodied within traditional ecological knowledge systems. The first of these attributes involves an incremental learning of environmental knowledge through detailed observation. In my observations of the pond and the local area, I can only speculate due to being a complete novice, on the role each species (plant and animal) plays in maintaining or even modifying local natural resources.       As an example, I knew that pigs were an invasive species, however through observation and prolonged deduction, I was able to able to build a picture, not only of the destruction caused by their feeding, but also the role they may play in spreading cockleburs, another invasive species. Pigs feeding in the same pastures as cattle, spread this poisonous plant, which might be ingested by domestic grazers. The pigs have only one other predator in this region besides humans, which is the coyote.

In my understanding, large numbers of piglets would probably mean large numbers of coyotes. This leads to the next attribute, the development of a belief system which averts serious resource depletion and encourages conservation. The local resource in the instance of the pigs would be grazing land. The ecological understanding is that the pigs do not need to be controlled, they need to be eradicated. They are not part of the natural balance of the area, they serve no purpose. They encourage growth of coyote populations and possibly distribute invasive plants. Pigs that establish a population in proximity to urban areas, will in all probability, also have coyotes establish populations in the same area.

When the developers dug the pond I doubt they gave much thought to what would happen should they abandon it. Now we have an over grown area with a pond that is a water source a stone throw away from a heavy traveled recreational area adjacent to the subdivision.  This pond lures ducks, cranes, raccoons, deer and pigs, which in turn lures coyotes and bobcats. So a question comes to mind, if the residents start to complain about animals intruding on their property, or brushes with them as they jog or picnic, who is responsible for the wildlife management? Is it the county's responsibility or should it be the developers who caused the problem in the first place? Would anyone take the time to understand how the problem developed, so that it could be avoided in the future? If there wasn't extended observation, would anyone really know who was responsible?

Understanding the environment could lead to laws that would prevent ranchers charging people to kill an invasive species. Do the ranchers, or anyone for that matter, reserve the right to harbor animals or plants on their property, which may cause physical or economic damage to their neighbors, because they'd rather make a greenback rather than help? Understanding each link in the chain through detailed observation, is the only way to better understand the future possible impact of events that happen today, such as a pond being dug and abandoned. The passing of any new laws based on these observations demonstrates another attribute of ecological understanding as defined by Turner and Berkes, the development of rules by members of a society to deal with their environment and resources.

Along with this understanding there has to be a way to preserve and communicate it, which is the last of Turner and Berkes's attributes assigned to ecological understanding. Without this communication, the observations become useless. Do I actually believe any of my observations will be communicated to my neighbors?  No, it would take someone far more knowledgeable than I am to make any type of impact. I realize that my observations of the area were silly and amateurish, however observation of the pond has given me insight to the importance of a traditional understanding of the local environment by the folks who live there, and the preservation and communication of that understanding. 

Reference - Turner, Nancy J. and Fikret Berkes. 2006. Coming to Understanding: Developing Conservation through Incremental Learning in the Pacific Northwest. Human Ecology 34:495-513.

Flora and Fauna: Forgotten Friends

Allyn Neal
Anthropology Major - University of North Texas

Nature hidden in plain sight, Eureka Park is a popular outing for many people in and around Denton, TX. Although these people are taking the time to be outside, one has to ponder if they are really enjoying nature for what it is or enjoying the manmade playscape and running path. I frequent the running path, and there I sought an area with which I feel a strong connection to establish my mandala. My first day began on October 5th, 2013 around 11 am and I chose a mandala that lies over the hill adjacent to the finish line at the end of my runs, a place that I am in tune with where I continue to improve my physical and mental health. It was extremely important to select a location that was home to a wide variety of species, plant and animals alike. Nature, as a whole, is about the mixing and mingling of species and their relationships whether those are symbiotic, commensal, parasitic, competitive, predatory, etc. To further this focus, my mandala also includes the edge of a pond as a window into the relationship between species of the flight, land, and water. The land meets with the pond, where many people come to fish, in a gradual slope, and large reeds extending from beneath the surface stand proud with enough give for the wind to sway the tall, grasslike plant to and fro. My selection of the mandala was not random, every aspect of the prospective vicinity required a large variety of species, experiences, and visuals to create an analysis that truly encompassed what ethnobiology inspires.

 

October 6, 2013 -- 5pm: Little touches of humankind interwoven in nature are apparent all around this mandala; the groomed grass has the beginnings of unkempt charm due to rain showers the day before, and small white flowers, freshly bloomed, patiently wait to be joined by the surrounding buds prepared to blossom. Through extensive research through wildflower databases and on amateur flower photography, the conclusive species of the flowers appear to be Aphanostephus ramosissimus – plains dozedaisy. These little flowers sprinkle the growing grass in the America Southwest year round, and in Eureka Park the plains dozedaisies soak in the sun for as long as possible before the lawnmowers come to cut them down. After the first day, I never saw those little white flowers again during my other visits. The dozedaisies had barely begun to develop before their time was, literally, cut short and an inner struggle emerged within me. Nature is relished when it is convenient, I recall the itchy fifteen minutes as I sat in my mandala's scraggly grass and flowers. The second time I returned, the recently cut grass was smooth on my skin and my comfort level increased; the flowers were gone, but it is easy to dismiss the loss to value the new, soft ground. Very few people when asked will state that they dislike nature, but most people will attempt to eradicate a bug or rat infestation in their home; such “pests” are inconvenient. One then must argue if that truly is denying nature. Very similar to David George Haskell's assertion in The Forest Unseen, people cannot deny humanity's place in nature; our propensity for creating comfortable living situations can be traced back to our archaic ancestors. Humankind's survival depends on its cultural adaptation, we do not have claws, sharp teeth, fur, or tough skin; we use culture and tradition to complete these necessities. Cannot one argue that all of what humankind has developed was stemmed from our earliest ancestors and the beginning of cultural adaptation? Through our greed we seek to control and subdue nature, how much is left after the leveling, mowing, cutting, building, and maintaining? I mourn my white flowers and hope to meet again after the next big rain.

 

Similar to humans other parts of nature adapt, whether it be on the scale of evolution or of day to day events. The University of North Texas campus is heavily populated by squirrels, but these critters possess different day to day lives and habits than most scurrying, skittish squirrels. Hundreds of students across the campus feed the squirrels, which has created a population that comes in contact with humans frequently and have little fear―coming close for food. Eureka Park's population of creatures have similar experiences. The constant connection with humans at public parks has created a relationship between our species and the animals, which is expressed by the close distance and placid demeanor the animals portray around what used to be typical predators, humans. Although far less abundant than the North Texas squirrels, the ducks at Eureka Park are immensely friendly to the park visitors. I have been adopted by a flock of ducks and greeted in hopes of food whenever I return to the mandala. On October 9, 2013, the visit from the ducks was cut short at the beginning of my third trip to the mandala thanks to some friendly puppies. Public school had recently released, and Eureka Park was teeming with people, a large portion of the horde was families, children, and pets. The closest people to my location were there with a puppy, and although they attempted to remain a fair distance due to my obvious studious manner, the little pup wanted nothing more than to play with the ducks that swam a few yards from the edge. The ducks, of course, paddled away from the audacious puppy; there was nothing to gain or benefit from the dog, they knew the little guy did not have food. Urban ecological relationships date back thousands of years, it is believed humans' relationship with birds began in the Middle East perhaps ten thousand years ago and some species are “hypothesized to have become… obligate commensal species with humans because of year-round access to stored grain, and has also changed from a migratory to a sedentary lifestyle” (Niemelä 2011). Other animals often encountered by urban people, such as squirrels and sometimes deer, must have similar historical ecological mingling. Obtaining food and other necessities becomes much easier when it is provided readily by other species, whether through feeders, from yard plants, or even from domestic relationships. Relationships between humans and other species are beneficial; we co-inhabit urban and rural areas and share, on many occasions, symbiotic or commensal relationships.

 

The large positive impact other species have on humans is often unrecognized, even in parks. Aforementioned, upkeep of the park is managed to support its appeal at a healthy, populated basis, but nature also conducts maintenance within its own biota. Every visit, including October 12 and 13—my final days to my mandala, was filled with dragonfly-like creatures that zoomed about, completely disregarding my presence. Further investigation pointed me towards damselflies, more specifically the familiar bluet – Enallagma civile. These fascinating creatures are electric blue and look convincingly like dragonflies. Unlike dragonflies, whose eyes meet at the top of their head, damselflies are much smaller, their eyes are separated, and their wings are held together on their back when they land. Although slightly unknown, damselflies prove extremely beneficial to most people's sentiments towards certain bugs. Their diet is largely gnats and mosquitos, something most people would be grateful for if they were knowledgeable of the impact damselflies make on our comfortable lives. The mandala contained a swarm of hundreds of damselflies and one can only appreciate the park maintenance these creatures provide for our comfort by controlling mosquitos and gnats. It's obvious that this is a small example within thousands of beneficial services creatures, small and large offer, which coincidentally provide a more desired living situation for humans. Efforts towards sustainability and preservation of creatures should be infused into the social systems of humankind. Turner and Berkes (2006) assert an emphasis on cultural and social practices defining the importance of conservation in humanity, instead of the widely believed notion that conservation stems from a reaction against “catastrophic consequences.” The depth of conservation versus the depletion of resources can also be traced back to belief systems and “establishing a competency over a period of time.” Potential of traditional ecological knowledge regarding resource management and conservation is important to recognize and incorporate into Western society. Looking at the world from a holistic approach would create an opportunity to witness the importance of these factors. Flora and fauna contribute many positive functions for that are not being properly sustained for the benefit of both humans and other species in large areas of the world. Ecological understanding, as explained by Turner and Berkes, offers theories and notions that would spread “attributes embodied within traditional ecological knowledge” for the betterment of sustainability and conservation. These ideas run parallel with Haskell's approach in The Forest Unseen, Haskell seeks to create a relationship between nature and humankind rather than to reinforce our habit of living outside of and extracting from nature. Spreading these ideas into the households of Western societies would encourage everyday people to consider these goals, which are relevant within their daily lives.

 

The natural world is a well-functioning, self-sufficient system that adapts and develops to preserve itself, while humankind pushes the boundaries and tests the earth's own sustainability. Many argue humans' greed is pushing too hard and that sooner rather than later the damage will prove irreversible. The focus of conservation and sustainability should be on incorporating traditional societies' resource management and share the progress with other species in a symbiotically beneficial process. Embodying these practices and goals has the potential to kick start a new order and allow species to flourish in their ecosystem, supporting the natural benefits flora and fauna provide. The damselflies in the mandala offer an important example in which our species can appreciate their biological function of eating undesirable insects. On the other hand, a damselfly sneaking its way into a home of a person, for shelter, food, etc., would probably end up killed by the homeowner; nature is well-liked until it closes its distance to us. Animals are adapting to our modification of the world, for instance the ducks and squirrels utilizing urban areas; it is important for humans to consider adapting to the other species' needs as well. It would behoove members of western societies to take a step back and examine the potential of traditional societal practices and to accept other species as cohabitants on this planet rather than resources or disturbances.

 

References:
"Aphanostephus Ramosissimus DC." USDA PLANTS. N.p., n.d. Web. 13 Oct. 2013.

Drees, Bastiaan M., and John A. Jt. Jackman. "Damselfly." A Field Guide to Texas Insects. Houston, TX: Gulf, 1998. N. pag. Web. 11 Oct. 2013. https://insects.tamu.edu.

Haskell, David George. The Forest Unseen: A Year's Watch in Nature. New York: Viking, 2012. 158-59. Print.

Niemelä, Jari. "Coupled Relationships between Humans and Other Organisms in Urban Areas." Urban Ecology: Patterns, Processes, and Applications. Oxford [England: Oxford UP, 2011. N. pag. Books.google.com. 3 Feb. 2011. Web. 11 Oct. 2013.

Turner, Nancy J., and Fikret Berkes. "Coming to Understanding: Developing Conservation through Incremental Learning in the Pacific Northwest." Human Ecology 34.4 (2006):495-513. Web. 11 Oct. 2013.

Patches of Moss & Serpentine Bravery

Erin King

Master's in Applied Geography Student - University of North Texas

Location and Description:
The location I have chosen is on a steep bank of an unnamed tributary of White Rock Creek that runs through North Dallas, just south of Addison. The tributary runs between two condo complexes that have been built up steeply along the banks of the drainage. The creek is lined with oak trees that produce a thick cover of shade. I have selected a spot along this creek, approximately 20 feet up the bank behind my condo apartment's pool area. The spot is about 10 feet outside of where the landscapers prune and manicure our park. The lawn in front of my condo apartment abruptly stops beneath the reaches of the tree canopy. The ground is mostly bare beneath the trees, and it is noticeably damper than the sun-beaten and landscaped lawn. The ground is compact sandy clay, mottled with many stones and has evidence of disturbance from previous development. Although landscaping is not maintained this far away from the main lawn, a single exposed sprinkler head sticks out like a sore thumb across the bare surface of the ground.

 

Observations:
On my first visit I looked around and saw a few patches of moss growing on the otherwise bare earth. The soft feathery moss patches were the only swatches of green across the ground, with the exception of the occasional scrawny weed that managed to push through the compact dirt. Looking below me toward the bank, a litter of oak leaves and acorns have begun to accumulate from the season change. The creek is at its usual slow, quiet pace and the water appears clear. The quiet trickle of the creek is occasionally interrupted by the sound of road noise along the nearby residential street crossing over the river farther south. I was pleasantly surprised to find a ladybug crawling on some fresh leaf litter a few feet below me. I leaned in for a closer look of the bug's body shape and color. My husband will tell you that I get unusually excited when I see ladybugs. I am from Southern Ontario, Canada, and during my adolescence there was a catastrophic change in our native ladybug population. An invasive species of ladybug from Asia has almost completely replaced the native ladybug. These invaders are orange, oval instead of round, have little-to-no spots, they bite, they stink, and they can infest houses while trying to keep warm over the winter. These invasive pests effectively ruined my adolescent memories of ladybugs. However, since moving to Texas, I've noticed that ladybugs here appear to still be dominantly native populations. The ladybug crawling through my designated mandala greenspace was bright red with many spots and shaped like a perfect half-sphere. This was the ladybug of my childhood! I curiously watched it crawl around for a while. Their color is so much more vibrant than their invasive Asian counterparts. I watched it wander across the leaves before it spread out its wings, took flight, and buzzed off.

 

I stopped by one evening while walking my dog Whiskey, an Australian shepherd. A cold front had come in the day before, so it was a damp cool night. The mosquitoes were starting to come out – I was glad to be wearing a hoodie. I expected the creek to be running a little higher from the recent rain, but it was still trickling at its usual slow and steady pace. I noticed a few fresh disturbances in the leaf litter; animal footprints perhaps? Unfortunately it was too dark to identify them, and I did not bring a flashlight. The area sounded unusually still. I can usually hear ambient bird chirps and rustling leaves from light breezes. This time it was past dusk and rather quiet. Although my vision was impaired by the dark, my dog's senses were on high alert. I noticed him looking attentively across the creek bank. We were both seated quietly in the greenspace when his stare began to develop into a low growl. His thick collar of hair began to stand straight on end, giving the illusion that he's much larger than he really is. I looked across the creek to try to identify what he saw. Whiskey lets out a few defensive barks, and all of a sudden I can see a gray cat slowly slinking backwards up the creek bank towards the condos on the other side. At first I regretted bringing my dog along for a visit to my greenspace. I felt that his disruption of the peaceful quiet was a mistake. However, given how dark it was outside, I likely would have been unaware of the cat's existence if Whiskey had not come along. Even within the man-made urban jungle, my canine companion's natural senses still had the advantage over mine. I also got to witness what is probably a pretty typical altercation between domesticated animals in an urban environment – a lot of noise and not a lot of actual contact or violence between the subjects.

 

As I approached my greenspace one morning, about 30 feet from my destination just before the grass begins to fade away, I came across a small snake. I was in flip flops, so my instant reaction was to take a few steps back until I could identify it. Since moving south, I've had to learn to be much more careful about where I step. Snakes were never a scary animal to me, in fact I've kept snakes as pets before. However, regardless of my personal serpentine bravery, I must still respect that Texas has a lot of venomous creatures underfoot that I have never had to worry about before. Snakes, spiders, and fire ants are a few examples. After closer inspection I was able to identify the serpent as a small racer. I remembered to take my camera with me today, so I took a quick snapshot and left him on his way. However, encountering the snake on the mowed lawn was a quick reminder that even in what appear to be controlled, manicured environments, nature is still lurking and you need to keep your eye out. When I arrived at my spot, I noticed an unusual amount of chatter in the trees. A couple of brown squirrels had decided that they did not like my presence and wanted to have a big conversation about it. They were chattering loudly at each other, staring at me, flicking their tail, and hopping from one branch to the other, clearly agitated. I sat still and quiet for a few minutes watching them. Eventually, they decided I wasn't interesting enough and went on their way. They are very active right now because of the acorns all over the ground, and I suppose when they realized I wasn't a threat to their food gathering they went back to their own business. Apart from mosquitoes in the dusk, this area does not appear to host a lot of insects during the day. There is the occasional dragonfly that buzzes by, but they seem to prefer being out in the sun closer to the lawn. I also do not see any ants, perhaps because the disturbed clay ground is too compact to be a preferable hill site.

 

On my last visit, I noticed that there had been some disturbances in the area. About 15 feet down towards the creek was a small area that had been deliberately cleared of leaves and acorns down to the dirt. The spot looked too big to have been disturbed by an urban animal, so I assume it was cleared by people. I also noticed there was some litter trapped in the creek below the same spot. Did the visitors leave it there? It had rained two days before, so it was possible that the creek washed the debris in from somewhere else. There was no garbage around the clearing itself, so it was difficult to discern if the increased litter and the recent disturbances were related.

 

My greenspace had another visitor that day. A familiar squawk from a nearby bluejay caught my attention, and I managed to catch a few glimpses of him as he made his way down the creek. Sadly he was too quick to get a picture of. Blue jays are a very familiar sight to me. They are quite common in southern parts of Canada and widespread across the US. My husband from deep east Texas simply calls them “blue birds”, and similarly calls cardinals “red birds”. It always felt funny to see a familiar bird that I can identify, and still hear it called by a name I've never used before. To me, it will always be a blue jay. I sat quietly for a while hoping that the blue jay, or perhaps other birds might fly by my greenspace. I decided to call it quits when a low flying airplane disturbed the quiet day as the vessel made its way towards the nearby airport. It is a strange illusion in this location. Visually, it is easy to forget that I am in a tightly enclosed greenspace within downtown urban Dallas. However, in terms of sound, it is very hard to forget the city. Brief nature sounds are regularly interrupted by fast moving cars, horns, sirens, planes, and neighbors yelling at their pets.

 

Ecological Understanding:

Turner and Berkes (2006) describe ecological understanding as the knowledge obtained by observing, interacting with, and communicating about the environment and its many dynamics. This matrix of natural knowledge is something that every individual is constantly building upon, and can help shape how individuals make future decisions about resource management. As my own personal example from this exercise, I learned that the invasive Asian ladybug that has obliterated native species in southern Ontario has not impacted the Texas populations the same way (at least not yet). Similarly, the small scale observations described by Haskell (2013) help paint a broader picture as to how closely intertwined ecological processes can be. These types of observations are often lost on individuals in our modern age because our survival does not immediately and directly depend on them. However, no matter how superficially removed we have come from nature, it is impossible to deny that we are still dependent on the natural environment, and will likely always be. Paying close attention to the environment you rely on is crucial to knowing your own place within it, and how your role can help sustain equilibrium with all participants.

 

References:
Haskell, David George. 2013. A Forest Unseen: A Year's Watch in Nature. Penguin Books.

Turner, Nancy J. and Fikret Berkes. 2006. Coming to Understanding: Developing Conservation through Incremental Learning in the Pacific Northwest. In Human Ecology, 34(4):495-513.

The Benefits of Backyard Exploration

Katrina Williams

Anthropology Major - University of North Texas

David Haskell, in The Forest Unseen, explains that a mandala is a lens through which ecological stories are revealed. Haskell describes his mandala as a “small contemplative window of leaves, rocks, and water” where the truth of the forest may be revealed (pg.12). My mandala occupies a small area in my mom’s backyard, which encompasses clusters of leafy plants, a large woody shrub, three towering mature trees, two large bird baths, and a large pile of firewood. Soft, loamy soil at the base of one of the trees is covered by leaf litter and wood chips. I had a very good view of my neighbor’s yard to the right of my house, and with a little climbing I could see the yards of my neighbors to the left and behind me. While my own mandala is not as grand as Haskell’s and has less historical significance, it is important to the animals, plants, and people that use it. The bit of green space is perhaps not as botanically diverse as Haskell’s section of Tennessee forest, nor does it have many of the animal species he describes, but it is a reflection, in miniature, of the ecosystem that I live in. In this post I describe my experiences with and observations of the mandala, some of the human-nature interactions that occurred, and ways in which my own and Haskell’s mandala observations, within the framework of ecological understanding, are beneficial. 
 

On my first visit to my mandala I tried to familiarize myself with my surroundings. I took pictures of ant hills, rocks, tree trunks, tree limbs, leaves and berries and everything else. A few things became apparent after that first visit: 1) I could not identify any of the plants I was seeing, 2) the weather was ideal for mosquitos, gnats and midges, and 3) it is difficult to make detailed observations when there are dogs demanding attention. While kneeling down to look at the base of a tree both of my dogs would rush over, upsetting the dirt, stepping on ants, beetles, and snail shells, and generally making nuisances of themselves. My intention on my first visit was to take pictures of the many different types of leafy plants, note any evidence of insects on leaves and on the ground, and write about any animals seen and their behaviors. My first visit occurred around 6:30 pm, just before sunset. A cloud of gnats swarmed around my porch light and I had to wave off a few persistent mosquitos. Of interest were a number of snail shells that lay in almost pristine condition at the edge of the mandala and right underneath a dense web of tree limbs. I also noted a few fallen leaves that appeared to have abnormal growths on them that I initially thought might be a peculiar looking fungus or even evidence of disease. 

 

On my second visit, and armed with a little more knowledge than before, I recognized the strange growths for what they were: galls. Galls are defined on the University of Minnesota’s website as “abnormal plant growths caused by various organisms (insects, mites, nematodes, fungi, bacteria, and viruses).” These particular galls were identified as nipple galls, which are often caused by psyllids and are found on the surface of leaves. I also noticed a brown papery ball very close to these leaves and almost completely obscured by the leaf litter. Warily, I approached it and took a picture. I noticed a rather large opening and, after finding a small twig, decided to tip it to get a look inside. Inside was a dried mass of what looked like hair or spider webs. This too was a type of gall, an oak apple gall caused by wasps as they feed and lay their eggs. Having seen a few wasps on more than one occasion on previous visits this was not surprising. The snail shells I had observed before were still there and none of them had been cracked or smashed, which is what I would expect if birds had gotten hold of them. 

 

My third and fourth visits were very similar in that they both occurred on a slightly chilly, cloudy day. The trees, though it is fall, were still green and full, even though the ground was covered with brown leaves. There were fewer mosquitos and gnats to bother me and I noticed that I was not the only one happy about this. Though my yard is surrounded by trees and bushes that obscure my view of my neighbor’s yards, it also lies on a gentle incline which means the closer I go to my backdoor the more visible the back and sides of my house become. My neighbor to the right of me, an older man in his early 70s was doing work in his garage on my third visit and my mom came out of the house to appreciate the cool weather and smoke. People walked their dogs up and down the street on my fourth visit to the mandala and I can hear owners clicking their tongues and whistling to call their dogs. From my position just outside of my mandala and close to my backdoor, there was a small bench where I usually sat during my visits. From this vantage I could see well-attended lawns, buckets, workbenches, and various miscellaneous items that indicated outside activity. In my neighbor’s yard to the right I saw that he had cut down a tree recently and was, on my fourth visit to my mandala, sawing off thick branches and sorting them into piles to use as kindling. I noticed on my final visit that my neighbor had added still more wood to his wood pile in preparation for winter. On my fourth visit to the mandala I heard my neighbor to the back of me talking loudly with a few friends while his dog, a large husky, barked and ran animatedly from tree to tree, chasing squirrels and birds no doubt. My mom came out every now and again to observe me observing and to call out helpful hints for finding what she called bugs and weeds. My mom told me how she once saw a rabbit near her shrub roses and how, back in August, hummingbirds and woodpeckers would fly around the largest tree in the yard, the center of my mandala. Perhaps it was the weather, but all I saw during my visits (the fifth and last visit) was one dragonfly zooming back and forth along the upper branches. Maybe this winter I will note more drastic changes, as mild fall weather becomes colder and more severe. 

Nancy Turner and Fikret Berkes state in their article “Coming to Understanding: Developing Conservation through Incremental Learning in the Pacific Northwest” that ecological understanding is a term used to refer to a set of attributes “embodied within traditional ecological knowledge systems” that include 1) the process of learning about an environment by individuals and groups through experience and observation which leads to a deep and detailed understanding of an ecosystem; 2) the development of a belief system that supports resource conservation strategies; 3) the creation of ways to communicate and transmit knowledge associated with the environment and the belief systems and ideologies that are associated with it; 4) regulation and rules that govern how individuals within a society manage their environment and resources (Turner and Berkes, pg. 497). The significance of all of these attributes of traditional knowledge systems is that all societies, and the individuals within them, can adopt them and use them, not only to conserve resources, but to gain a deeper understanding of their own role in the ecosystem in which they live.

Haskell’s mandala observations share many of the attributes of traditional ecological knowledge systems. In order to gain ecological understanding Haskell learns about his environment through observation and experience, explains how different people have developed belief systems that support resource conservation, communicates through his writings “practical aspects of incremental learning and adaptive response” (Turner and Berke, pg. 497). Together all of these things have the potential to inform the development of institutions and of laws that govern how people use their environment and resources. Haskell’s observations are more than the ramblings of a bored biologist, he strives to connect the world we live in with our technology and media preoccupations with the “natural” world that exists outside of our neighborhoods and cities. Haskell reminds people that this perceived dichotomy between humans and nature is a false one that leads to misunderstandings and misconceptions about the roles we play in the larger ecosystem. 

People that read Haskell’s book will have gained a measure of ecological understanding simply from reading about the different plants and animals that he describes. This is part of the process of learning about an environment. After reading The Forest Unseen it is very likely that someone might develop an interest in their own backyard, park, or some other green space or perhaps only an interest in learning about a specific plant or animal that might live nearby. This is beneficial for a number of reasons. One reason is that learning about the plants and animals that you live with can change the way you see them. I know that when I first ventured out into my backyard that I was impressed by how many plants I saw, but I never really stopped to look at them or note any differences among them. Observing plants, taking pictures of them, learning to identify them and sharing that knowledge, while common features in TEK systems, are not common in our own. Before this project I felt that information on plants was specialized knowledge that only gardeners, botanists and the like had or needed. And so another reason that Haskell’s observations are so important is because they (his observations) move this knowledge into the public realm where it can be used and useful to everyone. 

The interrelationships of animals, plants, and people are often overlooked and understated in our technology-and popular-culture-dominated world, but in reality humans are always acting within an ecosystem, whether they are aware of it or not, and it can only be advantageous to be aware of these interactions, especially within the context of conservation where knowledge can lead to the expansion and preservation of endangered biota and increased biodiversity. Knowing what animal and plant species you live with can lead to the application of that knowledge through conservation or it can even lead to the reduction of invasive and destructive species. Understanding the interrelationships between plants, insects and other animals, and the environment, along with a myriad of other actors, including pesticides, herbicides, and the small, seemingly inconsequential actions of people, have effects that radiate outward like ripples in a pond. This is vital for the long-term sustainability of our planet, and by extension, our species and culture.

 

References

Haskell, D. G. 2012. The Forest Unseen. Penguin Books, New York.

"Insect and Mite Galls." Insects. Regents of the University of Minnesota, n.d. Web. 10 Oct. 2013. <http://www1.extension.umn.edu/garden/insects/find/insect-and-mite-galls/#leaf>.

Turner, N. J. & F. Berkes . 2006. Coming to Understanding: Developing Conservation through Incremental Learning in the Pacific Northwest. Human Ecology 34:495-513.

24 Hours of Front Yard Ethnobiology

Kristyn Crossley
Integrative Studies Major – University of North Texas

October 12 – 8:30 am
For this midterm assignment, I decided to create a mandala in my front yard in North Richland Hills, Texas. My yard has a beautiful flower bed beneath the front windows of a red brick home. This flower bed contains two Rose of Sharon bushes, one rosemary herb bush, and many other plants including rosebushes, zinnias, daylilies, oregano, Katie Ruellia, and Mexican petunias. The soil of the flower bed is a mixture of topsoil containing nutritious minerals for flowers and a bottom soil of red, dry Texas clay. The defining feature of the flower bed is the large flowering rosemary herb bush. This plant is about 10 years old, which means that the central stem is thick and sturdy. The large bush has numerous branches that extend in many directions.

These branches include many small purple flowers, which attract multiple different kinds of insects including bees, flies, and grasshoppers. I first notice a small bee buzzing around the outside of the rosemary bush, moving from purple flower to purple flower. This bee had two wings and a yellow abdomen with a black tip. After researching different types of bees, I decided this bee belonged to the honeybee family. The bee hovered around the edges of the rosemary branches. Sometimes to look closer, the bee would venture into the folds of numerous branches. While in flight, the bee went from flower to flower in search of pollen. When the bee found a flower he liked, he landed and stayed for about 3 seconds and then left to begin the search again. Finding an appealing flower, the bee landed on the rosemary branch and reached his head inside the flower, searching for pollen. After a few minutes of exploring, the bee began to collect two small balls of pollen on his hind legs or pollen basket. Fascinated by this first bee, I soon noticed another bee that entered into the search for pollen. This bee looked very similar in size and color to the first one. I can only guess that the second bee also belonged to the honeybee family. As I watched the two bees carefully, I waited to see if there would be any interaction between the two. The two bees went about their buzzing without flight paths, staying on opposite sides of the rosemary bush. There was no competition to reach certain flowers first because there were plenty of flowers to share. In the center of the rosemary bush, a large green striped grasshopper clung to the central stem. This grasshopper was around 3 inches long and had a brilliant green color on his hind legs and dark brown abdomen. The body colors gave the grasshopper great camouflage in the rosemary bush. Even as the entire bush swayed with the wind, the grasshopper stayed completely still on the stem. I was beginning to think the grasshopper was taking a morning nap in the safe confinement of the bush. No movement disturbed it, even as my mother picked weeds from the flower bed. As I observed the branches of the rosemary herb, I began to take notice of other creatures that resided and interacted there. Mosquitos flew around the bottom of the bush, while craneflies and dragonflies flew around the top of the bush. A small green lizard ventured out of the center to find the sun on a swaying branch. Each species of insect or reptile maintained a certain place in the social hierarchy of the rosemary ecosystem, whether in the center of the bush, flying above the bush, or moving about the bottom branches. The rosemary bush symbolizes a miniature version of the entire flower bed ecosystem.

October 12 – 1:45 pm
I returned to the flower bed in the afternoon to make some more observations. I looked closely at the rosemary bush to see if there were any changes since this morning. The temperature outside was the familiar warmth of a Texas afternoon. The sun periodically flashed its rays between the scattered clouds. Two bees were still hovering around the outside of the rosemary bush. I could not tell if these bees were the same ones that I saw this morning, but I did determine by color and size that they belonged to the same honeybee family. They continued to search for pollen, while avoiding each other as I took a closer peak into the bush. The small green lizard I found in the rosemary bush this morning was gone from sight. However, I caught a glimpse of a green tail between the rosemary branches, located near the center of the bush and away from danger. Another missing rosemary resident was the large green grasshopper that had been resting in the center of the bush. This large grasshopper was gone, but in its place I found a smaller and leaner yellow grasshopper. This grasshopper had yellow hind legs with dark bands and a dark brown abdomen. The grasshopper perched on a rosemary branch that had access to the sunlight. Slowly, the grasshopper would angle its body to gain more access to the sun. Though searching for sunlight and heat, the grasshopper stayed observant of outside dangers, including birds and other enemies, myself included. Speaking of birds, I did not see any fly near the flower bed mandala. With my mother and myself moving about the front yard, I suspect that our rustlings dissuaded birds from visiting. Without these flying terrors, insects had more freedom of movement with no fear of being eaten.

October 12 – 5:30 pm
In the evening, rain clouds positioned themselves above the flower bed mandala. Soon, the clouds opened up and started pouring large drops. Following the movement of the rain clouds, the temperature outside dropped to a cool 60 degrees. I waited for the rain to lighten before I headed outside with my umbrella. The grasshoppers and bees who had previously been active this afternoon were now absent. The presence of rain must have pressured these insects to find shelter and higher ground. Mosquitos, on the other hand, seemed undisturbed by the rain. The mosquitos stayed low to the ground, swarming in search of a blood donator. At the time, this blood donor would be me. Even as the rain was sprinkling, I could hear the familiar whiny buzzing around my ears. Though my umbrella provided me shelter from the rain, it also invited some hungry and unwanted guests. Trying to ignore the mosquitoes, I spot a small green grasshopper sitting in the Rose of Sharon bush near the brick house. This grasshopper appeared to belong to a species that frequents the flower bed often. With the familiar green striped hind legs and brown abdomen, the grasshopper quietly inched up a long branch to get away from the sprinkling rain. The lizards in the bushes located on the side of the flower bed seem to be enjoying the rain. One small green lizard peeks out of the bush, hidden underneath the multiple small oval leaves. The lizard watches me closely as I come near to take a closer look. When I appear too close, the lizard scurries underneath a new leaf and watches me upside down. Another small gray lizard curiously looks for the source of the commotion. The lizard slowly moves out of the protective mass of leaves. Perched on a single leaf, the lizard does not mind the rain.

 
October 13 – 9:00 am
After the rain came and went in the night, I strolled outside the next morning to observe any more changes. Immediately, I could hear numerous birds chirping in the neighborhood. There were even two small birds in the front yard tree hopping from branch to branch and nibbling on leaves. As they moved, small yellow leaves fell from the tree. I believe the presence of the birds meant that they had come out after the rain in search of food. Though the bees were still absent from the rosemary bush, my mosquito friends, from the night before, were still buzzing around the low ground in search of more blood. Yesterday, I had received many unwelcome gifts from these mosquitoes in the form of bites, so I was in no hurry to appear welcoming. The aftermath of the rain had created a new and fresh mandala for my observations. The plants and leaves were clean and crisp after a long night of water. Even the atmosphere was cooler. The after-rain smell of the plants and herbs, however, intrigued me the most. The rosemary and oregano herbs in the flower bed had a stronger and more concentrated smell. Perhaps this contributed to the lack of insect activity around the rosemary bush, along with the presence of many birds. As I moved around the mandala, I made an interesting discovery. Two small snails clung to the front windows of my home. I wondered how they traveled to the window. I can only guess that they had made their way up to the front window to find safety from the rain.

October 13 – 10:30 am
When the sun came out from behind the scattering rain clouds, the leaves of the mandala began to dry. I returned to the flower bed to make some final observations. The disappearance of the rain gave the insects a green light for activity to begin anew. I heard a flutter of noises as a green grasshopper flew past me and landed on the Rose of Sharon tree. The familiar colorings of the grasshopper signified that it belonged to the same family as the previous grasshoppers. The snails I had seen this morning were still present on the front window. They had not moved from the comfortable and safe spot. I saw multiple lizards near the bush on the side of the flower bed. One small green lizard clung to a nearby plant. This plant had a long brown stem and several branching green leaves. The lizard was situated on the stem of the plant above an even smaller brown lizard, which was located several inches further down the plant stem. When I tried to take a picture of the brown lizard, it moved around the stem out of my view. With another look at the bush, I found another small green lizard peering out from the leaves. As I moved in closer, the lizard quickly retreated back into the bush and hid beneath the multiple layers of leaves. In my final observations, I noticed the return of a bee to the rosemary bush. Smaller in size and less furry, this bee was part of a different species than the ones I had seen yesterday. The bee had two small lacy wings and bright yellow and black stripes on its abdomen. Along with a different exterior, the small bee also acted differently than the others. The bee was faster and spent a smaller amount of time on each purple flower. It was very difficult to catch this bee in a photograph. When it finally landed on a purple flower, I was able to observe it using its mandibles to move the flower. As the bee peeled the outer petals of the flower, it rapidly reached for the inside pollen.

Afterward - Benefits
Turner and Berkes (2006:497) state, “ecological understanding is the term we use to refer to a suite of attributes embodied within traditional ecological knowledge systems… elaboration of environmental knowledge as a result of detailed observation and experience of variations in nature… [leads] to a sophisticated understanding of the ecosystem.” This “ecological understanding” defined above helps people learn more about their environmental surroundings and local ecosystems. In this way, Haskell made observations of a mandala for over a year in his book entitled The Forest Unseen. Haskell describes different species of animals, insects, and plants and how they interact with each other and him. I took Haskell’s book as an example when I approached this midterm assignment on making observations of my own. I believe the readings of Haskell and Turner and Berkes helped me to be more observant and understanding of my own local ecosystem. One of the many benefits of making my own observations and reading Haskell’s book is that I made more detailed observations of how the insects and animals interacted in the miniature ecosystem of my mandala. I think this idea can be applied to humans around the world. It is important to observe and interact with local natural environments. These relationships with the environment can reveal crucial information about animals, insects, and the multiple species of biota, which could have beneficial effects and qualities for human life and culture.

References
Haskell, D. G. 2012. The Forest Unseen. Penguin Books, New York.

Turner, N. J. & F. Berkes . 2006. Coming to Understanding: Developing Conservation through Incremental Learning in the Pacific Northwest. Human Ecology 34:495-513.

Mean Green Mandala: The Ethnobiology of Us

Steve Wolverton

Department of Geography

University of North Texas

 

The Mean Green Mandala blog is an outcome of an unconventional midterm exam that I gave to my undergraduate ethnobiology students in October of 2013 at the University of North Texas. The exam was a free-writing experiment based loosely on the book The Forest Unseen by David Haskell. I had never taught ethnobiology before, but I have been actively involved in the Society of Ethnobiology for several years, and I was interested in teaching this class because I think it is good for people to be ethnobiologists (at whatever scale possible). So, what is ethnobiology? Academics define it as "the "study of dynamic relationships humans, biota and environments." However, scholars also recognize an emic ethnobiology embedded in each person; that is, there are individuated human-environmental interactions that consitute the ethnobiology of individuals (based on their own perceptions and knowledge). 

I assigned Haskell's book not because he identifies himself as an ethnobiologist; rather, his book records a year's worth of visits to a patch of forest that he calls his mandala, which refers to a Hindu spiritual symbol (often circular patterns) of the universe. These symbols are used to help train minds during meditation. The photo to the left is from the Wikipedia page about mandalas, and there is no doubt that Haskell's experiences were symbolic and meditative. 

 

For the purposes of my class, however, it is also important that Haskell journaled visits to his forest mandala that were ethnobiological. He holds a PhD in Biology, and thus his window to the world of the forest, its ecology, and the biology of its inhabitats is specialized and informed, perhaps etic. However, what is genuine and interesting about his book is its refreshing subjectivity. 

Some ethnobiologists and environmental philosophers who are concerned with global environmental crises, such as the impacts of global warming on biodiversity and cultural diversity, assert that what need to change in Western society are environmental values (ethics). Nancy Turner, Fikret Berkes, Eugene Anderson, Robert Figueroa, and Ricardo Rozzi represent some scholars who hold that ethics change when experiences change. Thus, one way to influence environmental values is to become ethnobiological, to spend time in the outdoors like Haskell did, offering natural places the attention deserved of a mandala. The midterm exam for my class was to choose a mandala (an outdoor place), to visit it regularly, to observe the soil, plants, and animals, to note changes between visits, and to write about the experience.

Here is the exam question:

Create a mandala in a green space that you can regularly access. This could be your yard, a small area in a park near where you live, or another accessible area. It could be a place on campus, for example. Leading up to the exam, visit the mandala five times for fifteen minutes each; observe and experience the place. First, describe the mandala in general: where it is, what types of biota are there; what the soil is like, and anything else you observe. Second, make sure you note any changes in your mandala over the five visits; make sure you describe any types of insects, plants, birds, litter, and so forth that occur on each visit (you should record notes during each visit). Third, make sure you highlight any human-nature interactions that appear; from litter to other human visitors to noises, you will be interacting with other people, so record it. For steps one through three, it may be helpful to photo-document some parts of your mandala (use your phone camera); it may also be advantageous to target a few interesting species and learn their biology and/or ethnobiology. Finally, use the definition of “Ecological Understanding” provided by Turner and Berkes (2006) to discuss what you think the benefits are of the mandala observations you have made and the mandala observations you have read about from Haskell’s book.

I am hesitant to give writing assignments these days because I have found that students regularly copy from the internet, cannot write well, or simply will not do the work. I do not wish to police behavior; I want to engage in a partnership with my students where learning is paramount. I was surprised at how well written these exams were and at how much effort students put into their work. These students can write! I have begun to question my assumption that students (on average) are not good writers; rather, perhaps they are not interested in those things we would like them to write about. My own experience as a writer has been that I cannot write about a topic that I have no ownership in; the difference may simply be ownership. Perhaps the primary literature in ethnobiology (or other subjects) is more interesting when students can more readily contextualize it in their own experience (duh! say my colleagues in education and those who are simply better teachers than I am!).

So, the students have agreed to publish their mandala narratives on the blog. Their final exam will be a similar assigment, but the observations will take place over a longer period. It is my hope that students will continue to provide new posts beyond the scope of the class. Certainly, I hope to add to this blog during future ethnobiology classes that I teach. For reference, I have listed books and papers by some of the ethnobiologists, philosophers, and other scholars who inspired me to teach ethnobiology.

Relevant Literature
Anderson, E. N. 2010. The Pursuit of Ecotopia: Lessons from Indigenous and Traditional Societies for the Human Ecology of Our Modern World. Praeger Press, Santa Barbara, CA.

Davidson-Hunt, I. J., K. L. Turner, A. T. Pareake Mead, J. Cabrera-Lopez, R. Bolton, C. J. Idrobo, I. Miretski, A. Morrison, & J. Robson. 2012 Biocultural Design: A New Conceptual Framework for Sustainable Development in Rural Indigenous and Local Communities. SAPI EN. S. Surveys and Perspectives Integrating Environment and Society 5.2.

Dunnell, R. C. 1982. Science, Social Science, and Common Sense: The Agonizing Dilemma of Modern Archaeology. Journal of Anthropological Research 38:1-25.

Figueroa, R. M. & G. Waitt. 2008. Cracks in the Mirror: (Un)covering the Moral Terrains of Environmental Justice at Uluru-Kata Tjuta National Park. Ethics, Place, and Environment 11: 327-348.

Figueroa, R. M. & G. Waitt. 2010. Climb: Restorative Justice, Environmental Heritage, and the Moral Terrains of Uluru-Kata Tjuta National Park. Environmental Philosophy 7:135-163.

Hunn, E. 2007. Ethnobiology in Four Phases. Journal of Ethnobiology 27:1-10.

Lepofsky, D. 2009. The Past, Present, and Future of Traditional Resource and Environmental Management. Journal of Ethnobiology 29:161-166.

Lertzman, K. 2009. The Paradigm of Management, Management Systems, and Resource Stewardship. Journal of Ethnobiology 29:339-358.

Nabhan, G. P. 2004. Cross-Pollinations: The Marriage of Science and Poetry. Milkweed Editions, Minneapolis, MN.

Nabhan, G. P. 2013. Ethnobiology for a Diverse World: Autobiology? The Traditional Ecological, Agricultural and Culinary Knowledge of Us! Journal of Ethnobiology 33:2-6.

Nabhan, G. P., K. Chambers, D. Tecklin, E. Perramond, & T. E. Sheridan. 2011a. Ethnobiology for a Diverse World – Defining New Disciplinary Trajectories: Mixing Political Ecology with Ethnobiology. Journal of Ethnobiology 31:1-3

Nolan, J. M. 2007. Wild Harvest in the Heartland: Ethnobotany in Missouri’ s Little Dixie. Rowman and Littlefield, Lanham, MD.

Rolston, H. III. 1988. Environmental Ethics: Duties to and Values in the Natural World. Temple University Press, Philadelphia, PA.

Rozzi, R. 1999. The Reciprocal Links between Evolutionary-Ecological Sciences and Environmental Ethics. Bioscience 49:911-921.

Rozzi, R., Massardo, F., Anderson, C. B., Heidinger, K. & J. A. Silander, Jr. 2006. Ten Principles of Biocultural Conservationat the Southern Tip of the Americas: the Approach of the Omora Ethnobotanical Park. Ecology and Society 11(1): article 43.

Taylor, J. David. 2013. The Log from the Sea of Cortez: A Poem Series. Wings Press, San Antonio, TX.

Turner, N. J. & F. Berkes . 2006. Coming to Understanding: Developing Conservation through Incremental Learning in the Pacific Northwest. Human Ecology 34:495-513.