Field Book Project

One of the Most Elusive Birds

C21_3411 White-browed shortwing (Brachypteryx montana), 2012, by Naturelly, Retrieved from Flickr (The Commons): http://www.flickr.com/photos/51995830@N02/7062972975/

By Sonoe Nakasone, Field Book Project

Deep within the forests of Luzon, Philippines, lives the Brachypteryx, a bird so wily that even an experienced naturalist like Edgar A. Mearns (1856-1916) named it “one of the most elusive birds that I have met with”.  Although Mearns generally refers to this bird as Brachypteryx in his field book from July-August 1907, he was possibly describing Brachypteryx montana poliogyna, a sub-species noted throughout the volume.  What made this bird so elusive?

Cover, Field notes, September 29, 1906 - August 4, 1907 : volume 6, National Museum of Natural History, Division of Birds, SIA RU007083.

Mearns conducted extensive field work in the Philippines from 1903 to 1907 while serving in the Military.  According to this website, Mearns described two of the 14 species of Brachypteryx montana (malindangensis and mindanensis), which he found in the Philippines.  The Brachypteryx montana poliogyna, however, had already been described by William Robert Ogilvie-Grant (1895). 

Before reading what Mearns had to say about Brachypteryx, I did a quick internet search on “Brachypteryx,” “Brachypteryx montana,” and “Brachypteryx montana poliogyna.”  Most of the initial search results retrieved little information other than taxonomic hierarchy and records of bird sightings.  The best resource I found during my brief search was the Encyclopedia of Life (EOL) page for the Brachypteryx montana. From EOL I learned that the Brachypteryx montana is found in various parts of Asia, inhabiting high elevation montane forests, and often living and traveling on the forest ground.  I also learned what typical Brachypteryx montana poliogyna males and females look like.

When I finally read Mearns’s notes on Brachypteryx, I was delighted by his playful and informative description.  Mearns writes:

One will dart across the trail and alight in one of the tangles of brushwood and fallen timber that it delights to inhabit.  The instant it alights it hops to a lower level where its flitting tail appears for an instant like the parting twitch of a prarrie [sic] dog’s tail as it changes end and salutes as it disappears into its burrow.  One awaits in vain its reappearance; for the chances are in favor of its being far down the hillside inspecting the hollow of some decayed stump.  Most of my specimen have been taken in small traps baited for mammals with a [pinch?] of [?] usually placed in hollows of decayed trees or among cavities of rocks.  It is crepuscular, its sweet high notes shrilling up and down the scale at dusk, when it is much more apt to appear abroad than during the hours of sunshine.  I have never seen one more than a yard above the ground, on which it runs at an amazing pace.

Notes on Brachypterx, 1907, National Museum of Natural History, Division of Birds, SIA RU007083.	Specimen list of birds collected, 1907, National Museum of Natural History, Division of Birds, SIA RU007083.

Although briefer than the description EOL provides, this account contains a more colorful illustration of the Brachypterx’s tendancy to live and travel on the ground, a fact that is further highlighted when Mearns explains the necessity to use small mammal traps to capture specimens.  These notes also told me something I didn’t find in my internet searches:  the Brachypteryx is crepuscular—a creature most active in the twilight hours of dusk and dawn.  Finally, Mearns’s description of the Brachypteryx’s song motivated me to find this example.

Mearns lived another nine years after he granted Brachypterx the honor of being one of the most elusive birds. Did Mearns meet with other birds during his remaining years that presented him with even greater challenges?  Then there is also a question that begs to be asked—if Brachypterx was one of the most elusive birds, which was the most elusive?  Will we ever know which bird holds this highest honor?  If I find the answer, I’ll tell it to you.

A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words

By Lesley Parilla, Field Book Project

Near view of native vegetation on sand-steppe near Heidesheim, Germany, taken by Bohumil Shimek, 1914. Photograph documents geological and botanical observations. The children are not identified. SIA2012-3229.

 

 Anyone reading my blog posts has probably noticed I tend to include more photographs from the field books than images of text. I choose photographs because they often have more visual impact when I give an overview of a collection’s contents. Blogs are so short that I rely on the ability of a photograph to inspire an emotional reaction from the reader.

Photographs commonly straddle the line between the personal and profession side of the scientist. Usually the majority of detailed scientific content comes from the text, and photographs augment. To this end, I try to catalog the images in a collection last, so that I will have in mind locations and circumstances the photographer is documenting. In the case of Bohumil Shimek, I wish I had done the images first.

Shimek is an anomaly for me in several ways. He did not work at the Smithsonian; his specimens and field books came to the Institution after his demise. Also, Shimek recorded everything in his field books. Most scientists I’ve cataloged limited details to scientific documentation and personal observations, since field books were usually being sent back to the departments of Natural History. They would not usually include information about other pursuits. Shimek includes details about his other interests and other jobs in midst of his field work documentation. This meant finding notes about repairs for area elementary schools, land survey notes, and details about meetings relating to immigration rights, between details of observed geological formations and related vegetation. Given Shimek’s background in geology, zoology, and botany, his field notes make for fascinating snapshots of biodiversity, but they scattered among a lot of information that is not within the parameters of the Field Book Project.

Q macrocarpa var. depressa. Prairie border. S.W. corner of Lyon county, Iowa. SIA2012-3228.

His personal and professional focuses became a bit muddled for me. Ironically, his photographs are the most consistently, scientifically focused part of his collection. Most of his photographs are in one of four boxes, in groupings of eight, most with a description of the location, vegetation, and geology. I can’t begin to tell you how clear his work became when I started cataloging these!

[59] Wind gauge and unidentified field equipment on hillside. SIA2012-3232.

There is another reason I love these photographs so much. I grew up where Shimek did much of his field work. During my childhood, my family routinely drove 8 to 12 hours through the Midwest. I spent lot of time staring out the window of the car, looking at the landscape between Iowa and Missouri. My main focus was trying to determine how close we were to our destination, and save my mother from another “are we there yet.” I watched for any variation, including the groves of trees that dot the landscape foretelling of farm complexes, wind breaks, or rivers and creeks, as well as formations like the bluffs along the Missouri river or exposed limestone along the interstate heading to Kansas City. I never really had a good notion of why these changes occurred. Lo and behold many years later, working at the Smithsonian, I cataloged a scientist that studied and documented these very topics. And, in the course of it, I learned the geography of my childhood.

The Art of Describing What You See

By Emily Hunter, Field Book Project

Cover of Edward Palmer's field book from Durango, Mexico, 1906, Edward Palmer field notes from the Department of Botany, SIA Acc. 12-346.

As a field book cataloger, there are two types of field materials that I tend to come across the most: specimen lists and narrative field notes. Specimen lists are just that—lists of specimens collected in the field. I’m currently working on cataloging field books from the Department of Botany, so these include lists of plants collected in the field, usually with collector numbers (numbers assigned in the field by the collector) as well as name (scientific, if known at the time, or common if the specimen is to be identified later). Other information may be included as well, including the habitat the plant was found in, locality, date of collection, altitude, etc. Specimen lists are informative--they are the original source materials for catalog records of specimens.

Narrative field notes, however, are my favorite to catalog. They tend to be descriptive, allowing botany novices (such as myself) to get a visual picture of the collecting trip conditions, the route taken, the landscape and location, and the plants collected. Sometimes they read like diaries or journal entries; they describe daily activities and include reflections, thoughts, and opinions. I’ve found some collectors possess a real power of description. It seems to me, there is an art of using the English language to paint a visual picture and convey information to others or even to oneself (to remember at a later date).

As an undergraduate studying art history, the skill of written description was invaluable for relating the look and feel of a work of art. But this skill translates to the sciences as well. As we mentioned in a recent blog post on John Muir, detailed habitat descriptions can be invaluable for conservation efforts such as habitat reconstruction.

Two entries in Edward Palmer's field book from Durango, Mexico, 1906, Edward Palmer field notes from the Department of Botany, SIA Acc. 12-346.

Edward Palmer was particularly adept at description. Palmer was an ethnobotanist, who collected both plants and anthropological objects in Mexico, circa 1890-1910. While his handwriting was unique and his spelling and grammar a bit, ahem, unusual (punctuation was rare), his real talent was describing what he saw. Take, for example, this entry describing a plant on a trip to Durango, Mexico in 1906:

145. One of the finest blooming plants Grows in dence [sic] shade, base of mountain several long stems hanging about other plants at base some are two or three inches diameter + 25 or more feet long, flowers are cream at first then by age change to a mixture of snuff and orange the inside has bands of purple with light purple shading on each side

Can you picture it? It’s a brief entry, but Palmer hits on size, color, shape, maturity. He even throws in a mention of the plant’s superlative beauty. With a little help from the Smithsonian’s NMNH Department of Botany staff, I was able to read the determination written on the entry as Solandra guttata. I also found an image of the living plant, to compare to Palmer’s description. Check out the picture below!

Solandra guttata (Solanaceae) [Synonym: Swartzia guttata]. Photographer: Howard, R.A. Copyright Department of Botany, NMNH, Smithsonian Institution

Pretty good, huh? I think my old Art History professor would be proud.

For more on Edward Palmer, check out this site hosted by the National Museum of Natural History Department of Botany, and Smithsonian Institution Archives Record Unit 7442.

Who was Mrs. William Owen?

By Emily Hunter, Field Book Project

I recently cataloged a small field book by a “Mrs. William Owen”. I found this book unusual (and very interesting) for several reasons. First of all, the diminutive book contains entries on only 16 collected specimens, but the entries are incredibly rich and descriptive; I can almost hear her thoughts as she wrote them. Secondly, no years are included. No specific localities (beyond Guatemala) are written. And for the life of me, I could not find biographical information on this woman! Thirdly, her entries include a wealth of information on the native names and uses of plants. Uses of plants range from medicinal, to culinary, to bases for useful products and tools.

Title page and entries of field book by Mrs. Wm. Owen, Mrs. William Owen Field Notes from the Department of Botany, undated, SIA Acc. 12-345.

Take, for example, this entry:

Chu-che’ [Indian] This tree has no Spanish name. Its Indian name Chu-Che means bad smelling (Chu) tree (che’), because the branches when broken emit a strong pungent odor. The leaves of this tree after being wilted over embers are burned to the temples to relieve neuralgia. It grows like bamboo or cane putting up shoots from the root until 3 or 4 years old, when it becomes a gnarled and unattractive tree. Of the long straight shoots of the young tree the Indian makes his blow gun (pub-che’).

What a great deal of information Owen has provided in a short paragraph! She gives a detailed physical description of the plant, including how it looks at varying stages. Even more interesting is the information she includes regarding the use of the plants by native Guatemalans. No Latin name is given for this plant, but she has indicated the local language name. I especially love the fact that this tree is used for a blowgun.

Plant specimen entries by Mrs. Wm. Owen, Mrs. William Owen Field Notes from the Department of Botany, undated, SIA Acc. 12-345.

I wish I could find more information on this woman. Was she a botanist? Plant enthusiast? Ethnographer? What years did she work? (Her materials don’t have dates!) What brought her to Guatemala (assuming she emigrated there)?

When searching for biographical information on a “Mrs. William Owen” I found some materials on someone who studied Guatemalan folklore, and was married to Captain William Owen—Mrs. Mary Owen. There isn’t enough evidence to be sure it is the same person, but this is my favorite (unfounded) theory.

So, I will put this out there for all. Do you know who Mrs. William Owen was? Comment below!

Where are Heller's Field Books

By Lesley Parilla, Field Book Project

Taken during the Paul J. Rainey Expedition to British East Africa, 1911. Smithsonian Institution Archives. RU7179_Box6_F3_Heller09.

I recently cataloged the papers of Edmund Heller. He fascinated me from the beginning, partly because his range of travel rivaled my favorite invertebrate zoologist, Waldo Schmitt. When I started to work on his papers, I found characteristics that left me baffled. The contents and locations of his field books are scattered and compiled in places I did not expect. The longer I worked, the more his materials seemed a great example of the inspiration for the Field Book Project.

Who was Edmund Heller?

Heller was a naturalist who worked on expeditions for Stanford University, National Museum of Natural History, American Museum of Natural History, National Geographic Society, Yale University, and the Field Museum of Natural History in Chicago where he worked as a curator in zoology. He was later director of zoos in Milwaukee and San Francisco. He rarely spent more than a few years with any one institution and took part in several well publicized and popular expeditions at beginning of the twentieth century.

Taken during the Lincoln Ellsworth Expedition to Alberta and British Columbia in 1914, for which the Bureau of Biological Survey. Smithsonian Institution Archives. 1665_Image_RU7179_Box7_Hellers-15.

Edmund Heller at the Smithsonian

He first worked with the Smithsonian in 1909 when chosen as a naturalist for large mammals on the Smithsonian African Expedition under the command of Theodore Roosevelt. He went on several other expeditions representing the Smithsonian, including the Rainey African Expedition of 1911-1912 and the Smithsonian Cape-to-Cairo Expedition of 1919-1920.

"Narciso and Tomas," Peruvian guides and helpers packing the mules to go. The photo was taken by Edmund Heller while on the Peruvian Expedition of 1914-15, which was sponsored by Yale University and the National Geographic Society. Smithsonian Institution Archives. 94-12224.

Heller’s field books

Heller collected for a lot of different institutions, but nearly all of his resulting field books appear to be in departments of the Smithsonian. These include Heller’s field books from expeditions in Alaska with the Biological Survey; in Peru with Yale University and the National Geographic Society; in China with the American Museum of Natural History; in Russia with Paul J. Rainey; and possibly in Galapagos with Stanford University.

Heller’s expedition colleagues appear to have commonly given their field books to the institution the funded an expedition. Heller did not follow this pattern. He is a classic example of items-not-going-where-one-would-expect. I decided to do a little research to see where I found his field books compared to where I expected them to be. As you can see in the chart below, in many cases his field books’ homes do not correspond with the institution that houses the specimens collected.

Expedition Osgood Expedition Field Museum's African Expedition   Peru Expedition China Expedition Baja California Expedition

Expected Location Biological Survey    Field Museum Yale or National Geographic AMNH Field Museum

Location of notes UC Berkley Field Museum & SI SI SI & AMNH UC San Diego

As you can see, materials end up in unexpected places. The Field Book Project is creating a registry that will enable related materials in different repositories to, like the field books of Edmund Heller, be united online.

Happy Birthday to John Muir!

By Emily Hunter and Lesley Parilla, Field Book Project

John Muir with cane, by Francis M. Fritz [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

Happy 174th Birthday, John Muir! The Field Book Project team is celebrating a day early; conservationist John Muir was born on April 21, 1838.

Who was John Muir? Muir was perhaps the most influential conservationist in the United States. Muir is credited by the National Park Service, Sierra Club, and many other sources with being the father of the U.S. National Parks. Have you ever enjoyed the natural splendor of Yosemite National Park or Sequoia National Park? If so, you’ve experienced one of the national treasures we have as a direct result of Muir’s efforts. John Muir campaigned tirelessly to establish national parks in order to preserve the pristine beauty of our country. He’s also the founding president of the Sierra Club.

In the spirit of Muir, we would like to take a moment to discuss conservation, and the role that field notes may be able to play in research on conserving and sustaining our natural environment.

Field notes often include an amazing variety of information that does not get reported in resulting publications. Over the last few years, historic field work and field books have been increasingly used by researchers for a number of conservation efforts including tracking changes in climate and bird migrations.

• Richard B. Primack, Professor of Biology at Boston University, is using information from a variety of sources including the journals of Henry David Thoreau, along with current field research, to reflect and predict changes in climate and biodiversity in the northeastern United States.
• The Christmas Bird Count, one of the longest running citizen science programs which collects and records individuals’ observations of wildlife, has been used to predict changes in bird migrations.
• Researchers at the Benthic Ecology Lab at Smithsonian Environmental Research Center (SERC) have used documentation of a biological survey along the coast of Woods Hole, Massachusetts (1911), to create a map showing the geographical distribution of species and habitats.

The Grizzly Giant, Mariposa Grove, Yosemite, California , 1861/printed after 1875, by Carleton E. Watkins, Smithsonian American Art Museum Museum, 1994.91.278

What about the field books that we are cataloging? The potential is there to use them in conservation work. According to Rusty Russell, Field Book Project Co-PI, the value may be in the descriptions and first hand observations that the field notes provide.

John Muir spent significant time documenting the natural wonders of Yosemite, including Mariposa Grove. His published words help the general reader visualize the beloved national park as seen in this quote from Our National Parks.

The more famous and better known Mariposa Grove, belonging to the state, lies near the southwest corner of the park, a few miles above Wawona. The sugar pine (Pinus Lambertiana) is first met in the park in open, sunny, flowery woods, at an elevation of about thirty-five hundred feet above the sea, attains full development at a height between five and six thousand feet, and vanishes at the level of eight thousand feet. In many places, especially on the northern slopes of the main ridges between the rivers, it forms the bulk of the forest, but mostly it is intimately associated with its noble companions, above which it towers in glorious majesty on every hill, ridge, and plateau from one extremity of the range to the other, a distance of five hundred miles, the largest, noblest, and most beautiful of all the seventy or eighty species of pine trees in the world, and of all the conifers second only to King Sequoia (page 109).

A field book of F. Raymond Fosberg documents the same locations but for a specialized audience. Take this entry, for example, which covers the same territory as Muir’s quote above.

Fosberg’s field notes, Yosemite National Park, 1969. From Raymond F. Fosberg field notes from the Department of Botany, SIA Acc. 12-040.

Here Fosberg is documenting what he sees. What looks like a list of plants is actually a source of valuable data. Fosberg is creating associations between specimens, and linking them to a specific date and time. Rusty Russell says, “he’s not just creating a relationship, he’s painting the picture.”

That kind of picture could be invaluable. Russell says that one way that field book information could be used is in planning habitat reconstruction. So, we at the Field Book Project wondered, “How else could this information be used”?

We are actively seeking examples of how field book notes are used in various types of research, including conservation. If you’d like to share how you use field work documentation, please leave a comment below or email Carolyn Sheffield at SheffieldC@si.edu.

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References:

Audubon Society. What are the Birds Telling Us About Global Warming? Retrieved April 9, 2012 from http://chapterservices.audubon.org/what-are-birds-telling-us-about-global-warming

Environmental Research Center. The 1911 Database. Retrieved April 9, 2012 from http://www.serc.si.edu/labs/benthic_ecology/community_ecology/accessdata.aspx

Muir, J. (1901). Our National Parks. Boston, New York : Houghton, Mifflin and Company. Retrieved April 18, 2012 from http://archive.org/details/nationalparksour00muirrich

Primack, R. B., & Miller-Rushing, A. J. (February 2012). Uncovering, Collecting, and Analyzing Records to Investigate the Ecological Impacts of Climate Change: A Template from Thoreau's Concord. BioScience. Vol. 62, No. 2. University of California Press. Retrieved April 9, 2012 from http://www.jstor.org/stable/10.1525/bio.2012.62.2.10

Sierra Club. John Muir: A Brief Biography. Retrieved April 11, 2012 from http://www.sierraclub.org/john_muir_exhibit/life/muir_biography.aspx Smithsonian

 

Fosberg’s field notes, Yosemite National Park, 1969. From Raymond F. Fosberg field notes from the Department of Botany, SIA Acc. 12-040.

He Stands Out

By Sonoe Nakasone, Field Book Project

James A. Peters field notes, Mexico, 1949: notes on Pelamis platurus specimen.  Smithsonian Institution Archives, Record Unit 7175, Box 49, Folder 4, Image SIA2012-6407

 When I talk to others about the rich information within field notes, I am thinking of the field notes of James A. Peters.  As it happens, Peters’s field notes (Smithsonian Institution Archives RU007175) were one of the first collections I cataloged back in 2010.  Why has it taken me so long to write about Peters then?  “Why” indeed. 

Mostly narrative and diary-like, these notebooks contain overflowing accounts of specimen collecting, travel, and landscapes.  If you can get past my silly subheadings, you might begin to understand why these notes are exceptional.

The specimen is the thing

I have seen many examples of field notes with abundant specimen detail, yet Peters’s notes still rank among the most impressive.  For some entries, Peters goes so far as to include traced illustrations of species from cited publications accompanied by descriptions of a specimen collected.  Also typical of Peters are entries like this one from 28 February 1949:

I found three sceloporus under a single piece of bark on a large log about 3 feet above ground [...]. The center of the belly is light orange in 2, greenish in the 3^rd.  This light area is bordered in all 3 by a very bright orange.  The sides are black with greenish spots and strips.  They have more or less defined green dorsocatgal lines.

Above, Peters not only records information about the habitat of the specimens by noting exactly where they were found, he also very precisely notes colors and distinguishing marks.

James A. Peters field notes, Mexico, 1949: notes on Ctenosaura pectinata.  Smithsonian Institution Archives, Record Unit 7175, Box 49, Folder 4, Image SIA2012-6318	James A. Peters field notes, Mexico, 1949: traced illustration with description.  Smithsonian Institution Archives, Record Unit 7175, Box 49, Folder 4, Image SIA2012-6279.

Location, location, location

By including locality information at the head of nearly every journal entry, Peters instilled unrealistic expectations in me; I soon realized many other collectors were not so meticulous.  Further (often more granular) locality information was also available within the journal entry.  His entry for 31 July 1950 is an excellent example of this:  “Coalcoman, Michaocan” is included at the head of the entry; within the body, Peters writes, “shot one [Ctenosaura pectinata] at foot of Sierra de Guzman, about ½ mi SE of Coalcoman.”  Peters must have understood the value of locality information to be so exact.  One of his books even contains a Gazetteer of localities with brief descriptions.

Seeing the forests and the trees

Recording information about the surrounding environment during field work is important for understanding the types of habitats in which specimens live and thrive and can provide future generations with a historic picture of that landscape. Many of Peters’s field notes include such observations. On 27 June 1950, Peters writes:

The thorn scrub begins about 50-75 feet back of the beach line, and continues wherever it has been allowed to survive clear back to the town of Coahuayana, which is quite low.  I walked west of C. as far as the river which is about 4-5 kilometers, […] it is all this same type of scrub.  There are a few fig trees, quite a bit of organ pipe cactus and also a lot of the flat, round cactus, which was in bloom (ocotillo?).

The use of distance measurements and lists of vegetation above paints a vivid image of this locality.  Although Peters was a herpetologist, he even attempts to identify one type of cactus.  This flowing account continues for nearly three pages before any mention of a herpetological specimen.

Adding to his rich descriptions of environment, Peters also often includes information on elevation, weather, air temperatures, and water temperatures, so that an accurate idea of the condition in which specimens were collected is known. 

James A. Peters running notes, Mexico: description, 27 and 28 February 1949.  Smithsonian Institution Archives, Record Unit 7175, Box 49, Folder 4, Image SIA2012-6213

After nearly two years working for this Project, Peters remains one of my favorites to use as an example of field notes.  His patience and diligence in recording so many useful details of his collecting trip are impressive, and I hope that young naturalists can not only benefit from the data Peters recorded, but also learn from his comprehensive style of note taking.

UNLUCKY: Disasters in the Field

By Emily Hunter, Field Book Project

On this Friday the 13th, I would like to bring your attention to some of the very unlucky circumstances that have afflicted scientists collecting in the field.

Field work can be exhilarating for the committed collector, but sometimes a series of unfortunate events can shake even the strongest of wills. Bugs, heat, cold, earthquakes, volcanoes, fires, flood, illness, and (unexpected) animals have all been known to color collecting trips. Field work can range from a bit uncomfortable to downright dangerous.

Ellsworth Paine Killip’s field notes from 1929 in Peru tell of an incident when the house he was boarding in caught on fire. He writes,

“Sun. July 7. While I was working, the arriero watching me, we heard a roar like a blast furnace door being opened. Rushed into the bedroom there where the presses were and found everything in flames, the fire creeping up the bamboo wall. The whole house was of bamboo, it should be said. Fortunately, there was a big bucket of water in the kitchen and this we poured on the fire, children bringing up additional water from a stream some distance away. Soon we had it under control but what a mess our plants were! Straps, ropes, curtains, and press-ends all burnt.”

Fortunately, most of the specimens came out ok, as did Killip himself.

Killip's field notes, July 6-7, 1929, Ellsworth Paine Killip field notes from the Department of Botany, SIA Acc. 12-053.

Alice M. Cornman describes a scene in which flooding rains caused her and fellow scientists and assistants to spend a wet and unprepared night (with no supplies!) in the Panamanian rain forest. They had been so caught up in collecting ferns they didn’t realize how hard it was raining. Once the group reached the river, they found it impassable. Cornman writes, 

"…we tried several times to cross, wading into water above our waists, all holding hands, but the current was too swift, and we were finally convinced that a night in the jungle was a lesser of two evils.”

It gets worse! She continues,  

“The sand-flies and mosquitoes were so numerous that we could not have slept, even if we had been comfortable.”

Edward Palmer had an unfortunate accident in 1906 while attempting to collect a succulent plant in Mexico. The entry for this specimen (Echeveria, collector number 248) reads:

“4 plants from holes in the side of box canon [sic]…broke from plant in the effort to secure it I fell and received several contusions and am injured [+ sprained] with left hand.”

It certainly takes fortitude to scale a canyon in pursuit of a plant (though echeveria are a favorite of mine). Palmer doesn’t add any other details of his injury, though it can be assumed he recovered quickly as he made several other collections soon after.

Edward Palmer's field notes, Mexico, 1906. Edward Palmer field notes from the Department of Botany, SIA Acc. 12-346.

Perhaps, unluckiest of all was William Ashbrook Kellerman, who was infected with Malaria while collecting in Guatemala in 1908. The trip ended up being his last, as he died from the illness upon returning to the United States. The Smithsonian has the last field book Kellerman kept on that fateful trip.

So there you have it. I know that I’m guilty of romanticizing the exotic trips of scientists collecting specimens in the field, but it’s no simple feat. It takes a lot of work, and perhaps, a bit of luck.

High Spirits on the High Seas

By Lesley Parilla, Field Book Project

Cover of J. B. Henderson's book discussing the Tomas Barrera Cuban Expedition, 1914.  The book is available through Biodiversity Heritage Library and Interet Archive.

 

 

I am always happy when I can find a published text about an expedition I am cataloging. These often help clarify spellings and handwriting legibility issues with locations or types of specimens collected. One might wonder why we catalog the field books if there are published texts. The published texts may tell the stories of expeditions and travels, but archives hold the unedited, “behind the scenes” accounts. This usually means a plethora of details that are summarized or glossed over in the published version.  Sometimes this includes discussions of relationships between the expedition participants.

A while back I cataloged the Henderson Family Papers, 1868-1923, (RU 7075) which includes a journal from the Tomas Barrera Cuban Expedition (1914). The expedition was relatively short in duration and focused on collecting birds and marine life including mollusks. The journal was written by J.B. Henderson, Jr., who was an assistant on the voyage. His account vividly describes interactions and disagreements between expedition participants. Field books sometimes touch on personal exchanges, observations of contemporary events; Henderson’s were particularly candid. In the first few pages of the log book he wrote:

 “The ferocious conversations of all, especially of the “fish expert” [Manuel Lesmes], is amusing if one is feeling well, but if not, it is irritating. The most violent conversations and heated arguments are started at once by a reference to sharks or to amphibians or snakes which awaken memories of terrible tragedies in the mind of the fish man. He is an ignorant ass whose knowledge of natural history is based upon the teachings of the newspapers and whose arguments are founded wholly upon the hearsay of the superstitious.”

Henderson published an account the voyage, The cruise of the Tomas Barrera; the narrative of a scientific expedition to western Cuba and the Colorados reefs, with observations on the geology, fauna, and flora of the region (1916). The text provided an interesting juxtaposition of his personal thoughts and public account. His comments are not much different in tone.

“The subject of sharks was one that always could be relied upon to precipitate a discussion on board that assumed as it progressed all the outward signs of an anarchistic rally. Men of the Latin race enter upon arguments with an earnestness and amount of feeling that perplexes the Anglo-Saxon. Is it not likely, he asks aside, that these men will do each other violence?

 Our fish expert (Lesmes) cherished gruesome memories of sharks and he was positive that they are always very dangerous. His eyes gleam with apparent rage; with quick threatening gesture he suddenly approaches his disputant and hurls at him an argument like canister hot from the cannon's mouth. The other staggers, but recovering from the charge and reinforced by others who rush into the wordy affray, he delivers back an argumentative broadside and the battle is on. We of the north glance at each other apprehensively. Something really should be done to quell this riot before our fine crew is destroyed or we ourselves, as innocent bystanders, shall be injured. Then the cook announces that coffee is ready and the dove of peace flutters in and the shark swims out.” (p. 48)

 Throughout each account of the expedition, there is a humorous if frustrated tone. Expeditions, especially at sea, can be intense experiences depending on the combination of personalities. This expedition appears to have been just that, though with some humorous moments.

For those of you looking for some new reading material, Henderson’s published account has been digitized and is available through the Internet Archive.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Fishing without a Net: The Journals of Constantine Samuel Rafinesque

By Tad Bennicoff, Reference Archivist, Smithsonian Institution Archives

Cover of journal kept by Rafinesque on his trip from Philadelphia to Kentucky, 1818. Smithsonian Institution Archives, Record Unit 7250, Box 1, Folder 3, Image SIA2012-6042

When the folks involved with the Field Book Project http://www.mnh.si.edu/rc/fieldbooks/ asked me to contribute to this blog, I was uncertain of how to approach the task.  The study of science and its many disciplines have never been one of my strengths.  My background is in History, which has led me into a much enjoyed career as a Reference Archivist.  Thus, I resolved to focus on the historic significance of the field notes held by the National Museum of Natural History and the Smithsonian Institution Archives. One of the frustrations of a Reference Archivist, especially one who has the good fortune of being surrounded by collections as diverse as those held by the Smithsonian, is that there is little opportunity to really immerse one’s self into a particular collection.  The upside of course is the variety of topics and research I am permitted to pursue.  Such research, however, is almost entirely dictated by the questions we receive from the public.  To this end, I was recently tasked with reviewing Record Unit 7250: C. S. (Constantine Samuel) Rafinesque Papers, 1815-1834 and undated; the finding aid for this collection is available online. 

Constantine Samuel Rafinesque was a Naturalist and Philologist born on October 22, 1783, in Constantinople (a brief biography is available on the University of Evansville faculty webpage).  In the autumn of 1818 Rafinesque undertook a trip from Philadelphia to Kentucky, where he stayed with John James Audubon for eight days.  During his travels south, Rafinesque kept a journal of his plant and animal observations.  This journal is part of Record Unit 7250, and it is remarkable.  Nearly two hundred years old, the journal is composed of notes (in French) and sketches of plants, shells, fish, and mammals. The sketches are not of Audubonian quality, but then again, they presumably were completed in the field and essentially are a snapshot of select specimens. 

Rafinesque’s drawings of tortoises observed along the Ohio River, 1818. Smithsonian Institution Archives, Record Unit 7250, Box 1, Folder 3, Image SIA2012-6075.

Upon applying white cotton gloves to my hands and opening Rafinesque’s leather bound journal, carefully turning each weathered page, I began to contemplate, historically, the nature of Rafinesque’s travels.  There were of course no automobiles, so transportation must have been either by horse, perhaps a horse drawn carriage, or by foot.  Furthermore, there were few roads and presumably even fewer maps.  In fact, Rafinesque drafted his own maps, some of which are noted in the journal. 

Map drawn by Rafinesque during his travels from Philadelphia to Kentucky, 1818. Smithsonian Institution Archives, Record Unit 7250, Box 1, Folder 3, Image SIA2012-6086.

Technology that we so easily take for granted was absent.  There were no cameras to document observations, no laptop or tablet computers to record thoughts, no cell phones, no ballpoint pens, no electric lights, no water resistant rain gear, etc.  I can only image that such scientific research was indeed laborious. 

Rafinesque’s drawings of fish observed during trip from Philadelphia to Kentucky, 1818. Smithsonian Institution Archives, Record Unit 7250, Box 1, Folder 3, Image SIA2012-6107.

Frankly, I find the lack of our modern technology in the Rafinesque journal to be quite appealing, for if there had been digital cameras and iPads, we almost certainly would not have Rafinesque’s hand-written notes and sketches.  Historical documents have a way of transporting the reader to the moment in time in which they were created, and as I studied the journal, I marveled not only at its contents, but also the journey it has traveled from the untamed wilderness of 18^th century America to the custom made archival box and climate controlled facility where it resides today.

Inner cover of journal kept by Rafinesque on his trip from Philadelphia to Kentucky, 1818. Smithsonian Institution Archives, Record Unit 7250, Box 1, Folder 3, Image SIA2012-6043.

The Rafinesque notebooks continue to be consulted by researchers and scholars, a testament to the significance of their contents.  The particular journal described in this post is in the process of being digitized, and may soon be available for researchers to consult through the wonders of technology Rafinesque never could have imagined.  Based upon the time, effort, and care Rafinesque invested in recording his observations, I suspect he would applaud not only that his research continues to be valued by scholars, but also it may soon be available to researchers around the globe.

Other Field Book Project articles on Rafinesque:

http://nmnh.typepad.com/fieldbooks/2011/10/the-hoax.html

http://nmnh.typepad.com/fieldbooks/2011/10/trick-or-treat.html