Thanks, Mark. I'd never heard of anything like that before. My guess is that the frog might have had some kind of injury, which created a closed cavity in the frog's skin--enough for a mushroom to grow. If, in fact, it is actually a mushroom. It makes me wonder why they didn't collect the frog? Maybe they didn't have the permits. Or the desire to kill such a unique thing?
Andrea, reading your post for the second time, this line leapt out at me: "This herpetologist advanced in his career at a different time, when individuals didn’t matter, when people couldn’t possibly have an impact on the environment, because the world is so big, and we are so small.⁷"
Although your essay addresses specific approaches to data collection, it brings up larger issues: can just one person or action make a difference in the world we live in today? I'm thinking of scientists I know and have worked with as a volunteer around here in the Pacific Northwest who devote their lives to specific species and research and to training and mentoring young people, including kids, to revere the environment and perhaps choose careers that will in turn help change the world for the better. Yes, the world is big and we are so small, but people like my friends here and you are making a difference.
Hi Kirie- I'm glad to hear this new perspective on the piece from you. I really meant that mockingly, which I tried to allude to with footnote #7, but I can see how it doesn't come across very clearly. It's a really good question, of course. If one person can't make a difference, then nihilism is right there for the taking, isn't it? And that's a complete waste.
I'm not a scientist and I'm not inclined that way but I do remember that awful event in school when we were forced to dissect a frog. To what end, I can't remember. I do remember that it sickened me and closed me off from whatever they were trying to teach me. I have a problem with violence against anyone or anything for any reason, and I'm glad to see that this is an issue with scientists. Thanks for this Andrea.
Thanks for sharing this, Mark. The frog dissection does seem to be a defining moment for a lot of people. About 15 minutes ago I met a new acquaintance who described how he knew he wanted to be a biologist: he was the only one in his class who wasn’t bothered by the frog dissection. He now owns a restaurant in Ojai. I do actually think dissecting a real frog provides an important lesson for a lot of people, even if it is simply the fact that death is a very real thing.
Most of my experience with field biologists has been with the large mammal kind. I guess I’m glad for that! No one was shooting bighorn sheep to study them. The placement of trackers, which involved tranquilization and helicopter rides, was controversial enough.
That’s an interesting point, Larry—we seem much more comfortable with inflicting pain and suffering on ectotherms than mammals. We care most about what we can see ourselves in. That’s why humans’ time in nature is so important. We can’t relate to something we haven’t spent any time with.
This is a very thoughtful essay, thanks! It really resonates with me as taxonomist and conservationist specializing in herpetology. Museum specimens are crucially important, of course, as the author and Allie Byrne (whom I do not know personally) and I have collected and deposited a great many specimens in my career, early-on in my career more specifically. I have deposited almost none that were found alive (e.g., not including salvaged roadkills, etc.) in many years now. There's a variety of reasons for that and one of them is simply that I don't care to euthanize animals any more. Yet, I feel like the material I deposited earlier represents a solid contribution to science. Anywhere I worked, for example, in the 1990s is documented with a representation of what I encountered there. So, those are historical records and specimens to document a time and place biologically. When I think about really important break-through papers, like the ability to use museum collections for DNA (for systematics or chytrid detection), or to simply use the collections to document that a population did actually exist in some time frame, those collections are invaluable---the very core purpose of natural history collections. So, in that sense, I am very grateful for the diligent collectors of previous generations. My contributions to science and conservation have made abundant use of their efforts. What I fear is that people in future generations will have access to all of the older material that I have also used to answer currently unimaginable interesting questions and using unheard of techniques. But, if their questions involve time series (like the breakthrough work on amphibian chytrid fungus), there may be gaps in, for examples, the 2020s as field biologists A) become fewer, B) and collections become rarer. A question I think about sometimes: Am I robbing future generations of important documentation because I no longer contribute substantially to collections to document this era of my career? I have read all the papers showing that digital images, voice recordings, videos, and non-lethal DNA samples can replace traditional specimens. There is some merit to those arguments, but they still lack some opportunities (not to mention questions and technologies we cannot yet imagine). A great example was a nice piece of work by Hamed (below) that used historical and current salamander collections to show that mercury contamination in a watershed has DECREASED significantly over time. I read it as a testament to the effectiveness and legacy of the Ecology Movement of early 70s (EPA, Clean Water Act, etc.). Just an example, and probably preaching to the choir here.
But my main point is to ponder: "Am I conflicted about my role as a collector?" The answer is "Yes, I am so." Thanks for listening and for creating this interesting site and wonderful posting !
Hamed, M.K., 2014. Impacts of climate change, human land use, and mercury contamination on Southern Appalachian Plethodontid salamanders.
Thanks for this thoughtful comment, Joe. Neither I nor Allie are suggesting that natural history collections and lethal collection should be completely replaced by other technologies, yet this seems to be what some are responding to. My essay was primarily aimed at exploring why, when a lone researcher who uses specimens herself suggests that the natural history collections community might consider a more compassionate orientation to their work, it is met with resistance by an army of 119. This isn't just about how specimens are collected. I'd like to have a much broader-scope conversation about all of it. I noticed your name was conspicuously absent from the 119. Was this choice because of the inner conflict you mention? I know that there have been comments, shares, and engagements with this post that I do not have access to because of privacy settings. I really appreciate your courage to share your thoughts in the open.
You might be interested in this: https://www.nytimes.com/2024/02/12/science/mushroom-frog-growth.html
Thanks, Mark. I'd never heard of anything like that before. My guess is that the frog might have had some kind of injury, which created a closed cavity in the frog's skin--enough for a mushroom to grow. If, in fact, it is actually a mushroom. It makes me wonder why they didn't collect the frog? Maybe they didn't have the permits. Or the desire to kill such a unique thing?
Andrea, reading your post for the second time, this line leapt out at me: "This herpetologist advanced in his career at a different time, when individuals didn’t matter, when people couldn’t possibly have an impact on the environment, because the world is so big, and we are so small.⁷"
Although your essay addresses specific approaches to data collection, it brings up larger issues: can just one person or action make a difference in the world we live in today? I'm thinking of scientists I know and have worked with as a volunteer around here in the Pacific Northwest who devote their lives to specific species and research and to training and mentoring young people, including kids, to revere the environment and perhaps choose careers that will in turn help change the world for the better. Yes, the world is big and we are so small, but people like my friends here and you are making a difference.
Hi Kirie- I'm glad to hear this new perspective on the piece from you. I really meant that mockingly, which I tried to allude to with footnote #7, but I can see how it doesn't come across very clearly. It's a really good question, of course. If one person can't make a difference, then nihilism is right there for the taking, isn't it? And that's a complete waste.
I'm not a scientist and I'm not inclined that way but I do remember that awful event in school when we were forced to dissect a frog. To what end, I can't remember. I do remember that it sickened me and closed me off from whatever they were trying to teach me. I have a problem with violence against anyone or anything for any reason, and I'm glad to see that this is an issue with scientists. Thanks for this Andrea.
Thanks for sharing this, Mark. The frog dissection does seem to be a defining moment for a lot of people. About 15 minutes ago I met a new acquaintance who described how he knew he wanted to be a biologist: he was the only one in his class who wasn’t bothered by the frog dissection. He now owns a restaurant in Ojai. I do actually think dissecting a real frog provides an important lesson for a lot of people, even if it is simply the fact that death is a very real thing.
That frog was definitely dead. We used to go to Coney Island to eat frog legs, but that's another story.
I hope it was dead! Sometimes they are not…and that’s another story too! 😆
Most of my experience with field biologists has been with the large mammal kind. I guess I’m glad for that! No one was shooting bighorn sheep to study them. The placement of trackers, which involved tranquilization and helicopter rides, was controversial enough.
That’s an interesting point, Larry—we seem much more comfortable with inflicting pain and suffering on ectotherms than mammals. We care most about what we can see ourselves in. That’s why humans’ time in nature is so important. We can’t relate to something we haven’t spent any time with.
This is a very thoughtful essay, thanks! It really resonates with me as taxonomist and conservationist specializing in herpetology. Museum specimens are crucially important, of course, as the author and Allie Byrne (whom I do not know personally) and I have collected and deposited a great many specimens in my career, early-on in my career more specifically. I have deposited almost none that were found alive (e.g., not including salvaged roadkills, etc.) in many years now. There's a variety of reasons for that and one of them is simply that I don't care to euthanize animals any more. Yet, I feel like the material I deposited earlier represents a solid contribution to science. Anywhere I worked, for example, in the 1990s is documented with a representation of what I encountered there. So, those are historical records and specimens to document a time and place biologically. When I think about really important break-through papers, like the ability to use museum collections for DNA (for systematics or chytrid detection), or to simply use the collections to document that a population did actually exist in some time frame, those collections are invaluable---the very core purpose of natural history collections. So, in that sense, I am very grateful for the diligent collectors of previous generations. My contributions to science and conservation have made abundant use of their efforts. What I fear is that people in future generations will have access to all of the older material that I have also used to answer currently unimaginable interesting questions and using unheard of techniques. But, if their questions involve time series (like the breakthrough work on amphibian chytrid fungus), there may be gaps in, for examples, the 2020s as field biologists A) become fewer, B) and collections become rarer. A question I think about sometimes: Am I robbing future generations of important documentation because I no longer contribute substantially to collections to document this era of my career? I have read all the papers showing that digital images, voice recordings, videos, and non-lethal DNA samples can replace traditional specimens. There is some merit to those arguments, but they still lack some opportunities (not to mention questions and technologies we cannot yet imagine). A great example was a nice piece of work by Hamed (below) that used historical and current salamander collections to show that mercury contamination in a watershed has DECREASED significantly over time. I read it as a testament to the effectiveness and legacy of the Ecology Movement of early 70s (EPA, Clean Water Act, etc.). Just an example, and probably preaching to the choir here.
But my main point is to ponder: "Am I conflicted about my role as a collector?" The answer is "Yes, I am so." Thanks for listening and for creating this interesting site and wonderful posting !
Hamed, M.K., 2014. Impacts of climate change, human land use, and mercury contamination on Southern Appalachian Plethodontid salamanders.
Thanks for this thoughtful comment, Joe. Neither I nor Allie are suggesting that natural history collections and lethal collection should be completely replaced by other technologies, yet this seems to be what some are responding to. My essay was primarily aimed at exploring why, when a lone researcher who uses specimens herself suggests that the natural history collections community might consider a more compassionate orientation to their work, it is met with resistance by an army of 119. This isn't just about how specimens are collected. I'd like to have a much broader-scope conversation about all of it. I noticed your name was conspicuously absent from the 119. Was this choice because of the inner conflict you mention? I know that there have been comments, shares, and engagements with this post that I do not have access to because of privacy settings. I really appreciate your courage to share your thoughts in the open.