Field Book Project

Women & Botany

By Emily Hunter, Field Book Project

Acc. 90-105 - Science Service, Records, 1920s-1970s, Smithsonian Institution Archives. Left to right: Unidentified man, botanist and plant pathologist Johanna Westerdijk (1883-1961), and two other women (unidentified).

For women interested in science in the 19^th and early 20^th centuries, botany was the most accessible field to enter, but by no means was it easy. The waning Victorian period had placed an emphasis on women’s role at the center of the home, precluding most scientific pursuits. As an endeavor related to natural theology, however, the study of plants was viewed as an acceptable hobby for Victorian (and Christian) young women.

Botanical field work was also more open to women because, unlike in zoology, it could be conducted without handling weapons or killing animals (seen as a male domain). Views of the female sex may have limited chances for engaging in robust field work or traveling abroad, but women found opportunities to collect plants in their own backyards.

Many women pursued botany in this way. They started in-home herbariums, educated children on botany, and even joined professional associations.

As botany became more professionalized (about the mid 1800s) though, it became increasingly male-dominated. Because women were less likely to receive a formal education, they had a difficult time gaining professional employment and recognition.

While researching for this post, I was disappointed that I couldn’t find comprehensive (or sometimes any) biographical information for the women in our field book collections. Collecting under a male colleague or husband’s name may be to blame, or it may be that precious little is written about them. Still harder was finding images for many female botanists.

Here is what I did find. The Field Book Project is working to catalog the field notes of at least eight women botanists, including those highlighted below.

Josephine Milligan, collected circa 1889

Josephine M. Milligan’s Catalog of Plants, undated.

Josephine Mason Milligan collected throughout the United States, but particularly in her home state of Illinois. She kept a home herbarium of wildflowers of Central Illinois which she later donated to the Smithsonian Institution after her death in 1911. She was an active member of numerous professional societies, including the Jacksonville Natural History Society and the Microscopical Society. She was a founding member of the Jacksonville Sorosis, a society of women who studied and discussed literature, science, and contemporary issues.

M. Alice Cornman, collected circa 1917-1918

M. Alice Cornman’s work with ferns began with writing descriptions and copying data for botanist Ellsworth P. Killip. Eventually, this led to collecting plants herself in Panama and Guatemala. Modestly discussing her own work, Cornman writes, “…while my descriptions often lacked scientific terms, they were descriptive.”

Reading her (probably unpublished) essay, “Collecting Ferns in Panama,” I was taken by Cornman’s humble account of her own budding appreciation for plants. She begins,

“I want to tell you a little of how I became interested in ferns, scientifically, for of course I had always loved ferns just as ferns, but the little brown spots on the under side of the frons, you have probably noticed them, did not appeal to me, they seemed to detract from the beauty of the ferns.”

Approaching the plants at first with an aesthetic eye, Cornman learned through her assistance to Killip that the “little brown dots” were sori, with complex patterns and functions. Thus was the beginning of her fascination with botany.

Velva Elaine Rudd, collected circa 1949-1999

Velva E. Rudd served as a curator in the Department of Botany, U.S. National Herbarium from 1959 to 1973. A legume specialist, she researched and published extensively on various tropical species of Fabaceae. The Mexican legume genus Ruddia is named for her.

Field notes of Velva E. Rudd.

In addition to these, the Smithsonian also has the field notes of:

• Cleofe Calderon
• Mary Agnes Chase
• Alice Carter Cook
• Mrs. William Owen
• Nina Prey

While I don’t personally know a woman botanist, a few of my closest female friends are scientists. Through listening to their experiences, I have learned that it still requires great fortitude and determination to succeed in a male-dominated discipline. Here’s to women botanists and all women who have fought and continue to fight to do what they love and to contribute to the advancement of knowledge.

This post is part of a series celebrating Women’s History Month. Stay tuned for more, and check out related posts on women in science on The Bigger Picture.

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References:

Bassett, P. D. (1925). The Jacksonville Sorosis organized: Founded November 30th, 1868. Journal of the Illinois State Historical Society (1908-1984), 18(1), 209-212.

Bonta, M. M. (1995). American women afield: Writings by pioneering women naturalists. College Station: Texas A&M University.

Gianquitto, T. (2007). “Good observers of nature”: American women and the scientific study of the natural world, 1820-1885. Athens: University of Georgia Press.

Kohlstedt, S. G. (1978). From the Periphery: American Women in Science, 1830-1880. Signs, 4(1), 81-96.

Brief Notes on the Not So Brief Career of Doris Cochran

By Sonoe Nakasone, Field Book Project

Doris Mable Cochran (1898-1968), measuring a turtle shell.  This image is from the Smithsonian Institution Archives Women in Science set on the flickr Commons.  See more women in science highlighted on The Bigger Picture this month.

Why should Doris Cochran receive only brief notes?  One, others have documented her career better than I can here.  Two, I wanted to highlight Cochran, but unfortunately, the Smithsonian Institution Archives (SIA) does not have many of Cochran’s field notes.  As this blog focuses on field note related topics, the lack of Cochran field notes is problematic; I can only briefly touch on the few materials at SIA regarding Cochran’s field research.

Women have struggled to gain acceptance and equality in the sciences and many other arenas, which is why we celebrate the history of women at least once a year during the month of March.  Doris Cochran was no exception to the number of women at the Smithsonian who fought to advance in their careers.  “The Clutter Museum” author Leslie M-B carefully documents the difficulties Cochran faced in lobbying for her due status and pay at the Smithsonian in this 2006 article.  (Leslie M-B’s article is a must read.)

The SIA collection “Doris Mable Cochran Papers, circa 1891-1968” contains several typescript drafts for publications, correspondence, and notes on specimens that other people collected.  Cochran’s long SI career began in 1919 before she completed her Masters in Zoology.  There is a lot of other people’s “stuff” in Cochran’s collection, probably because she was first hired as the trusted aid to Leonhard Stejneger, who headed the Division of Reptiles and Batrachians, then Assistant Curator in 1927, Associate Curator in 1942, then acting head of the Division after Stejneger’s death in 1943.  I hoped to find field notes from either of her field trips to South America (1935 and 1962-1963) with noted Brazilian herpetologists Adolpho and Bertha (Adolpho’s daughter) Lutz.  Fortunately, SIA has a travelogue from her 1962-1963 trip containing natural history notes and references to herpetological specimens collected.  Also included are frog photographs from her 1962-3 trip, an essay summarizing her earlier South American collecting trip in 1935, and an essay entitled “Collecting Frogs in Brazil” (ca. 1935).

The 1962-3 travelogue documents Cochran’s National Science Foundation funded trip to visit museums in Brazil and Colombia and collect frog specimens, building on the collections she made in 1935.  There’s a slight possibility Cochran did not write the travelogue.  The small, leather bound volume was given to Cochran about a month before her trip, but the entries often refer to “Doris”:  either Cochran liked to refer to herself in the third person, or the travelogue belonged to someone else.  Whether or not the travelogue is Cochran’s, it is invaluable for its itinerary information, event highlights, and descriptions of surrounding flora and fauna.  The photos of frogs from this trip, although not labeled with species names, are also valuable documents of Cochran’s field work.

Cover of Cochran's 1962-1963 travelogue.	Photograph of frog in Colombia, 1962.

Cochran’s essay about her 1935 trip to South America, although not field notes, contains a first-hand account of a collecting event.  The essay provides names of collecting localities, names of accompanying collectors (such as Joaquim Venancio), and notes on the frogs, new genera and species of fish, and other biological specimens collected.   In Cochran’s “Collecting Frogs in Brazil,” she delved deeper into the 1935 trip by including names of specific specimens collected and anecdotes describing the circumstances in which the specimens were collected.

Excerpt from 1962-3 travelogue.  Itinerary.	Excerpt from 1962-3 travelogue.  This page describes Cochran and her colleagues collecting frogs.

As Leslie M-B notes, by the very end of Cochran’s career, she was finally promoted to her desired pay grade, but did not receive the title she lobbied for.  Yet, Cochran didn’t seem to let such persistent prejudice affect her work.  She continued to work until her forced retirement, one month before her death.

Women in Science, in the Field

By Lesley Parilla, Field Book Project

78-10629. Mary Jane Rathbun, carcinologist at the United States National Museum, at left with Katherine J. Bush of Yale University, second from left, Charlotte Bush and Eloise Edwards at the Marine Biological Laboratory and United States Fish Commission Station at Woods Hole, Massachusetts, probably in the 1890s.

In honor of Women’s History Month, we are posting several articles discussing women’s field notes. In this article I wanted to provide an introduction, and share examples of the women we’ve come across while cataloging.

Early in my time at the Smithsonian, I learned that women have long been associated with the sciences at the Smithsonian. Early in the twentieth century, many of these women were not hired as official scientists like their male counterparts. The women often lacked formal education in the field.  Their male counterparts who lacked formal training could compensate for this through field work. However, as historian Pamela Henson discusses in two articles, cited below, upper administrators were sometimes reticent to women participating in field work in an official capacity. These administrators cited concerns about the health or safety of female staff during such ventures. If women did achieve a title of scientist, it was usually after years of work within a department.

Women with an interest in science often came to be a part of natural history departments through pursuits that were more socially acceptable like scientific illustration, working with plants (Invading Arcadia, p. 439), or through their personal relationships. Almost all the women I’ve come across either started as illustrators, worked in the field of botany (as will be discussed later this month), or through marital or blood relationships (as wives, sisters, or daughters) with men in scientific fields.

79-11666. William and Lucile Mann (Record United 7293), in British Guiana on a collecting trip for the National Zoological Park (1931).

Women carved out opportunities where possible. If they were paid employees of the Smithsonian, they most likely worked within the institution walls. Few managed to be paid staff and do field work. Some of the most prolific female researchers at the Smithsonian spent little if any time in the field, and thus have no field notes in our Registry. Mary Jane Rathbun, (zoology) and Doris Blake (entomology), for example, spent decades at the National Museum of Natural History, with voluminous quantities of material documenting their research, but they worked in the offices, identifying and illustrating specimens. These women would make fascinating women’s history research topics, so we encourage you to check these women out.

Women who collected often did it as opportunity and time presented itself; their specimens cover short periods of time or limited geographic range or both. Some of the women whose notes (prior to 1970) we’ve cataloged include:

• Margaret Sordahl (wife of Smithsonian staff member) collected 1930-1931 at Mt. Brukkaros, Africa.
• Thora Stejneger (sister of zoologist Leonhard Stejneger) collected in Norway, 1898-1900.
• Lucille Mann (wife of William Mann, director the National Zoological Park who has been a topic of a one my earlier blogs) was the primary documenter for her husband’s collecting around the world.

Then there is Mary Agnes Chase. Mary Agnes Chase, even among women in science at Smithsonian, is unusual. She is a fascinating figure, well-known at the Institution, having had a long and distinguished career in the Department of Botany well before women in the sciences were common. I wanted to write something about Chase from a new vantage, but am now thinking she can probably speak more eloquently for herself.

Watch for upcoming Field Book Project posts on women in science, including women in botany, and excerpts of Mary Agnes Chase's correspondence while working in the field in Brazil, 1929-1930, and a Flickr set documenting Chases' botanical work.  Also look at The Bigger Picture this month as they feature posts discussing the Smithsonian Institution Archives’ “Women in Science” Flickr set.

For more information about Doris Blake and Mary Jane Rathbun mentioned above, see:

SIA RU007256, Rathbun, Mary Jane 1860-1943, Mary Jane Rathbun Papers, 1886-1938 and undated

SIA Acc. 06-169, Schmitt, Waldo L (Waldo Lasalle) 1887-1977, Waldo L. Schmitt Papers, c. 1970 SIA RU007310,

SIA RU007310 Blake, Doris Holmes 1892-1978, Doris Holmes Blake Papers, 1899-1985

References: 

Henson, Pamela M.(2003). 'What Holds the Earth Together': Agnes Chase and American Agrostology. Journal of the History of Biology. 36(3), 437-460. http://www.jstor.org/stable/4331826

Henson, Pamela M.(2002). Invading Arcadia: Women Scientists in the Field in Latin America, 1900-1950. The Americas. 58(4), 577-600. http://www.jstor.org/stable/1007799

Sharing Culture through Plants

By Sonoe Nakasone, Field Book Project

Entry for Ledum palustre in William J. Fisher's botanical field notes from Kodiak, Alaska, 1899. Department of Botany, National Museum of Natural History.

What would an anthropological view of biodiversity look like?  Perhaps one answer is the botanical field notes of William J. Fisher (1830- 1903) from Kodiak, Alaska, 1899. 

William Fisher worked as a Tidal Recorder in Alaska, but it seems his real interest was collecting biological specimens and ethnographic artifacts.  In 1879, Fisher began collecting specimens for the Smithsonian in his spare time.  Although Fisher collected birds, plants, fish, and other natural history specimens, his ethnographic collections eventually dominated his focus.

Fisher’s botanical field notes from 1899 take an ethnobotanical approach, perhaps reflecting his interest in Kodiak culture.  Fisher examined the relationship between the Alutiiq (Aleut) and their plants by recording medicinal and food uses for 48 specimens.  Additionally, for many of these specimens Fisher includes Russian and Sugpiat/Alutiiq (Aleut) names, distribution information, and a note if the plant is introduced. 

The natural remedies and culinary descriptions Fisher recorded sparked many questions: how accurate were Fisher’s notes; how much more knowledge about our environment can we obtain from other cultures?  For this post, I attempted to answer only the first of these questions.  Conducting light internet research, I compared Fisher’s notes to published sources for some of the known medicinal properties and general or Alutiiq food uses of these plants.  This was challenging as most of the phonetically spelled Russian and Sugpiat/Alutiiq names listed in Fisher’s notes yielded no internet search results.  Luckily, Fisher included scientific names for two of his specimens: Fritillaria camschatcensis and Ledum palustre  Eventually, I also found results on two other specimens using their Russian names “brussnika [sic]” (brusnika) and “kalina”.

Fisher provides medicinal uses for two of the four plants I researched.  For one of these specimens, Ledum palustre (wild rosemary), Fisher makes the following note:

“[U]sed […]: 1) as a tea […for] alleviating the hacking cough of consumptives; 2) as a gargle for sore throat; 3) […] as a tea […for] asthmatic complaints. […]  The leaves are chewed also and give relief in asthmatic complaints.”

Fisher’s notes align with the medical benefits listed for Ledum palustre on Plants for a Future (PFAF). This entry, however, also notes several serious hazards to Ledum palustre that Fisher does not.

Another medicinal plant from Fisher’s notes is “Kalina” (Viburnum edule; Highbush cranberry):

“[R]emedy for sore throats, either the raw berries or boiled with sugar added for same purpose the outside bark of the plant is removed and the inner bark taken and boiled and freely drank.”

The entry for “Kalina” in Plant Lore of An Alaskan Island: Foraging in the Kodiak Archepelago [sic] (Kelso, 2011) contains a similar description of the medical benefits of this plant, but offers more details.

 

Fisher’s notes include information on food, but not medicinal uses for the following two specimens.  According to Fisher’s notes, Fritillaria camschatcensis (Kamchatka fritillary), in the Lily family, was used as a preserve:

“[T]he bulbs are boiled, mashed, and after a liberal supply of seal or whale oil has been thoroughly mixed therewith, it is put away for winter’s use.”
 
Similarly, both the PFAF database entry for Kamchatka fritillary and Kelso's book mention the edible bulbs of the fritillary, descriptions on how to prepare this plant differ greatly from Fisher’s.

Different from the Highbush Cranberry mentioned earlier, Fisher’s notes record another type of cranberry that is used for preserves.  These are referred to as “brussnika [sic]” (brusnika) in Russian.  Fisher’s notes explain how these cranberries are “[M]ixed with seal or whale oil and salmon spawn for winter’s preserves.”  By contrast, the entry for “brusnika” in Kelso's book has no record of seal, whale, or fish parts being used in the making cranberry preserves and also includes medicinal information absent from Fisher’s notes.

From my brief research on the four plants above, I found some overlap between Fisher’s notes and the information found in PFAF and Kelso's book, particularly with the medicinal information Fisher was able to capture.  There were, however, many striking differences.  These differences highlight the importance of the folk knowledge that can be gleaned from various cultures and communities world-wide.

So, where are you from?  Are there plants special to your region?  Does your community or region have unique traditions using those plant materials?  We invite you to share some of your botanical traditions in the comments.  Let us know your story and we may invite you to guest blog.

References

Crowell, A. L. 1992. Postcontact Koniag Ceremonialism on Kodiak Island and the Alaska Peninsula: Evidence from the Fisher Collection. Arctic Anthropology, vol. 29(1), pp. 18-37.

 Kelso, F. (2011). Plant Lore of an Alaskan Island: Foraging in the Kodiak Archepelago. AuthorHouse: Bloomington, Indiana.

Around the World in 60 Years: The Traveling Field Books of F. Raymond Fosberg

By Emily Hunter, Field Book Project

92-1712, F. Raymond Fosberg, (1908-1993), botanist and ecologist, looking at leaves on a tree, was on the staff of the National Museum of Natural History from 1966 to 1993, Smithsonian Archives - History Div

F. Raymond Fosberg was a botanist with a long and remarkable career. He joined the staff of the National Museum of Natural History in 1966, working as Curator of Botany, Senior Botanist, and eventually Emeritus Botanist. Fosberg collected specimens all over the globe, including the Americas, Pacific Islands, Europe, Africa, and Asia. He documented his activities in 129 field books, spanning 62 years, across seven decades (1931-1993).

It’s not just sheer quantity that is so incredible about Fosberg’s field notes. His notes are comprehensively inclusive, descriptive, and meticulously detailed. Rusty Russell, Department of Botany Collections Manager, noted in his blog post that Fosberg encouraged him to record everything he saw. Fosberg himself maintained a zealous yet thoughtful and deliberate record of his activities in the field through his carefully dated and numbered field books. He collected wherever he happened to be, including outside of hotel rooms.

Fosberg always found opportunities for recording in his field books. When I began cataloging them, I often found notes labeled “Germany to Pakistan” or “Washington, D.C. to Miami” and wondered at this very broad style of geographic description. Then I realized that Fosberg was actually writing field notes from the airplane! Indeed, Fosberg recorded even as he traveled from point A to point B, peering from the windows of airplanes, trains, and taxis, and noting everything he saw.

Fosberg was an exceptionally well traveled individual. From the field books, we can see that he collected in 73 countries and 45 U.S. states! Feel free to pause a moment and let that sink in. Amazing, right?!

The map above shows countries visited by Fosberg, and displays the number of field books that include field notes from that country. To interact with the map, hover your mouse over the countries. You will see a small window that displays the country (or dependent state) name and the number of field books held by the Smithsonian (NMNH Department of Botany) that contain field notes from that place.

This map (above) breaks down the field notes of Fosberg by state. As you can see, Fosberg didn’t just collect abroad in exotic environments. He often collected and created field notes very close to home. In fact, 68 field books contain notes from Virginia. Fosberg visited numerous states and countries each year, so nearby locations like Virginia, Maryland, and North Carolina are peppered throughout as he left and returned to his office in Washington, D.C.

Fosberg was active up until his death in 1993. His final field book (March 1992 to May 1993) shows that he traveled to Hawaii, California, Virginia, Maryland, Caroline Islands, and Okinawa, collecting 153 specimens. No decline in the rigor and precision can be observed from these final pages. A final entry is dated 29 May 1993. Fosberg passed away the following September.

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Parícutin, a Personal Account

Anniversary of the eruption, February 20, 1943.

By Lesley Parilla, Field Book Project

  

SIA2009-0861. Cabin engulfed by lava flow, northeast of Parícutin Volcano in Mexico, June 12, 1943. Photograph comes from the William Foshag papers, Smithsonian Institution Archives, Record Unit 7281.

The Field Book Project includes several examples of citizen scientists at work. Often these people later became scientists, others remained longtime amateur enthusiasts. Some were brought to science by circumstance. This is the story of one such man, Caledonio Gutierrez. His papers were cataloged along with the field books of William Foshag, a Curator of Minerals at the U.S. National Museum, while studying Parícutin Volcano in Mexico. Parícutin has at times been a popular topic for writing here at the Smithsonian. The Volcano was a rare geological event, representing the first time a volcano’s birth, life, and death was recorded by scientists. During its period of activity, 1943 - 1952, it garnered significant attention from the scientific and general public. It was born in a corn field, and over its short life span caused the evacuation of two nearby towns, and required the resettlement of San Juan Parangaricutiro.

 

SIA2009-0866. Parícutin crater viewed from helicopter, July 31, 1945.

Foshag’s materials include a wide variety of photographs and entries detailing daily changes. They also include images of New San Juan Parangaricutiro, when the town was resettled. Accounts of the area around the volcano are often dramatic. William Foshag wrote while traversing the sides of Parícutin Volcano in Mexico in 1943:

 “About 15 minutes after our arrival, a spot, about one meter across became more incandescent, changing from the glowing red of the lava cracks to a brilliant orange yellow, and began to work like leavening bread, and then to slowly flow. Slowly the moving area spread, and within five minutes the entire cliff, for the width of five meters had melted into a flow of brilliant orange.”

 

Foshag worked for several years studying the evolution of Parícutin. While there, a local inhabitant of San Juan Parangaricutiro, by the name of Caledonio Gutierrez worked as his assistant. Though not a geologist or mineralogist, Gutierrez kept a diary of the daily activity and effects of the Volcano on his community. The diary covers 1943-1952, describing changes observed in Paricutín, Mesa de los Hornitos, and the surrounding environment, including emanating debris (i.e. ash) and vapor, ongoing eruptions, changes to the crater, and individuals who explored the area. His diary, composed in Spanish, was partially translated into English and is part of Foshag’s Smithsonian Institution Archives collection.

 

SIA2009-0865. Parícutin from the outskirts of Parícutin village. The cross was erected to ward off danger to the village, May 27, 1943.

Below is a quote (translated) from Gutierrez explaining his journal.

“[January 1, 1946] Three years ago my village existed tranquilly, without any warning of the volcano that exists today. Three years ago all parts of this region were beautiful, with fruit trees in the village, green pastures, beautiful fields that demonstrated the riches of the area, with cattle and sheep and droves of horses…now there remains for me only a remembrance and a pride to have known it as it existed three years ago and to note that changes that I observed with the eruption of this volcano as it continues its activity.”

Below Gutierrez’s excerpt, Foshag wrote:

"Although these notes are couched in simple terms, they constitute the only complete record of the volcano's activity and have the advantage of being free of any preconceived notions of what a volcano should do."

 

As Foshag acknowledged in the quote above, the Gutierrez journal is a wonderful example of the care and focus that citizen scientists often give to their work. Though Gutierrez had no formal training, his style and content were consistent and detailed enough to provide valuable information to professionals in the natural sciences.  The journal not only tells the story of a volcano and the communities it affected, but also augments scientific observations in the vicinity, shedding light on field work in habitats affected by the volcanic activity.

 

SIA 2009-0876, Front of the flow of January, February, and March 2, 1944.

 

How Sweet It Is... Love in the Field

By Emily Hunter & Lesley Parilla, Field Book Project

Whoever said that field books aren’t romantic? Accounts of affection can be found among the pages of botanists, ornithologists, and mammalogists alike. Some include accounts of trips for 50th wedding anniversaries (Lawrence Walkinshaw), or honeymoon plans (Pacific Ocean Biological Survey).

Once you begin to look, you may see that signs of love are all around. To observe the mating ritual of the Laysan Albatross one must acknowledge the care and attention that goes into wooing one’s partner. It’s inspiring! Perhaps that is how scientists working for the Pacific Ocean Biological Survey felt, when they encountered this enamored duo on Midway Island:

Laysan albatross, Laysan Island, circa 1961-1973

In fact, someone liked it enough to create a sketch. Sweet, no? And if you would like to see this courtship dance in all of its glory, we encourage you to watch this video.

If you think it’s only the birds feeling the Valentine’s day spirit, look below at some of the other expressions of affection in the field.

SIA2012-3233, RU7293, Primate and tiger cub  photographed during the National Geographic Society-Smithsonian Institution Expedition to the Dutch East Indies, 1937.

SIA2012-3236, RU7293, Unidentified child with tiger cub photographed during the National Geographic Society-Smithsonian Institution Expedition to the Dutch East Indies, 1937.

SIA2012-3234, RU7293, Tiger cub being fed by Lucile Mann, during the National Geographic Society-Smithsonian Institution Expedition to the Dutch East Indies, 1937.

SIA2012-3237, RU7293, Pangolin, photographed during the National Geographic Society-Smithsonian Institution Expedition to the Dutch East Indies, 1937.

 From all of us here at the Field Book Project: Happy Valentine’s Day!

A New Way to Look at a Fish Market

By Lesley Parilla, Field Book Project

Sketch from a page in“Color Notes on Hawaiian Fishes” in Smithsonian Institution Archives (SIA) Record Unit 7184, Box 16 Folder 8, 1901.

While working on this project I have come across a number of items that have taken me by surprise, changed my perception of what is a priority for specimen description, and what counts as field work. Before this project, I had not realized some types of specimens change dramatically in appearance after they are caught and preserved. Birds’ feathers for instance, stay the same, but fish lose much of their original coloring during the preservation process. This affects the types of information collected in field notes.

Scientists use unexpected resources to collect data. Alexander Wetmore, ornithologist and much blogged about former Secretary of the Smithsonian, used entrée listings on regional menus to gauge the migration of birds across South America. In the case of this post, my discovery has to do with the importance of recording the colors and appearance of fish when first collected.

When fish are collected, many invariably lose their coloring shortly after death or during the preservation process. In field notes from the 1800’s, recording color and patterns was a major focus because of how much was lost by the time specimens reached the institution. See the post and activity on the lovely series of sketches and color images of fish created shortly after they were caught during the United State Exploring Expedition (1838-1842).

While cataloging the Bureau of Fisheries Records, 1877-1948 (RU 7184) I found a record book labeled Color Notes on Hawaiian Fishes. In it were detailed descriptions of fish found at the Honolulu fish market, June 6 - August 8, 1901.

Page from “Color Notes on Hawaiian Fishes” from RU 7184, Box 16 Folder 8, 1901.

An employee of the U.S. Bureau of Fisheries went through the market carefully describing fish after fish for sale. Descriptions for a single fish often cover an entire page; some, like the one above, include sketches with notes. These sketches are not so different from ones completed during The U.S Exploring Expedition (seen below).

SIA2011-1231. Sketch of fish collected near Fiji, during the United States Exploring Expedition, 1838-1842.

The similarities between these two emphasize one of the things so fascinating about working with Smithsonian materials. As a research institution and federal entity, the Smithsonian straddles the areas of pure and applied sciences. The Bureau of Fisheries grew out of the work of Spencer Baird (Secretary of the Smithsonian 1878 to 1887) conducted for the federal government in regards to American commercial fishing. This is why the Smithsonian has their early records, before the Bureau morphed and merged with US Department of Fish and Wildlife.

Many of Smithsonian departments work closely with federal agencies applying science – US Department of Agriculture, US Geological Survey, just to name two. They work well together because, though the initial purpose of the science is different, the principles and methods are similar. Their results are comparable and of value to both types of science. The two fish shown above are from between Fiji and the Hawaiian Islands, yet the comparison is intriguing because the field work occurred in such dissimilar places, the Pacific Ocean and a fish market.

A Map Mystery

By Eleonore Dixon-Roche

Figure 1: Map from December 6th 1920. The journal entry describes the river as “winding as ever” which can be seen in the map. (From Joseph Francis Rock, field notes, 1920-1929. Folder 3: Rock, J.F.: Siam, Burma, Assam, 1920-1921.)

I started working on an assignment for the Field Book Project in September 2011 as an intern cataloguing maps for various departments at the Smithsonian National Museum of Natural History.  I looked at one of Botanist Joseph Rock’s (see also http://goo.gl/ay2O1) extensive journeys throughout Asia that he completed during the early 1900s. For a brief portion of those travels in 1921, Rock created hand-drawn maps with corresponding journal entries in a manuscript covering his travels of 1921-1922. We knew from a general collection description that he traveled through Burma, Thailand, and Siam. His maps also provided enough detail to establish the general direction of travel and discern some distinctive geological landmarks. Pinpointing an exact location and specific route, however, was fraught with issues.

Whilst the map did include place names of where Rock and his native guides passed through, each place name was written phonetically, with multiple spellings for the same location being used throughout his journal. Disambiguating these place names was especially difficult because there was no mention of what country they were in, let alone detailed accounts of the location. 

To complicate matters, the majority of these locations were small villages that are not registered in most indexes or Google Earth.  In addition, the place name could be several words, and the point at which the series of letters were split into words seemed arbitrary at times. Some place names were rather commonly used throughout the region for different locations and therefore not a good indicator of a unique location. The river seemed to disappear at certain points, and it did not seem likely that natural events would have caused this. Lastly, due to the high density of rapids in certain areas it was rather difficult to pin point exactly which river he went down. As the rapids were mentioned multiple times as a reference to his location this could have been key to narrowing down his route further (Figure 2). As the scale was not perfect, the maps also could not be used for calculating accurate distances or for actual variations in river width.

Figure 2: An excerpt from page 7 of Rock's journal, one of the many references
to the high density of rapids. (Rock, J.F.: Siam, Burma, Assam, 1920-1921)

Deciphering Rock’s route was daunting at first, but there were in fact some great clues and rather simple solutions to many of the challenges. Though the journal and maps did not correlate exactly, I was able to work backwards from the route described in his journal, to find the general direction he had come from.  The map shown in Figure 1, for example, has the corresponding journal entry for December 6: "The banks of the river are now flat and fringed by trees and Bamboo; and as is as winding as ever."

I was also able to narrow down countries he was passing through whilst disambiguating and the mention of a river’s name in both Thai and Burmese. Discounting some inaccuracies of scale, I focused on the distinctive forks and bends Rock marked along the river on his maps to plot them in Google Earth (Figurea 3a and 3b).

Figure 3a.  Page 5 of Joseph's Rock 1921 hand-drawn map.  From Joseph Francis Rock, field notes, 1920-1929. Folder 3: Rock, J.F.: Siam, Burma, Assam, 1920-1921.	Figure 3b. Bends in Rock’s maps lined up with a contemporary satellite view of a river using Google Earth.

 Along with the sporadic descriptions from the journal of the water’s speed, the river’s width, and the occasional island, it was possible to begin confidently marking some points along my virtual route on Google Earth. In the more ambiguous areas, I used what little information the maps conveyed on the mountain ranges to ascertain the general direction he could have traveled using waterways. After working out the general direction in which he was traveling, I looked at the place names on Google Earth and correlated any that sounded similar. This method only worked for a few locations. Next, I made note of every place name that was mentioned in both the journal and the maps. I then sorted through the lists and made note of those that sounded similar. Using various websites listing all Thai cities and villages, I pinned them all on Google Earth. Some were immediately discounted due to their location, but once all the pins were in place, a path became unequivocally clear.

The remaining ambiguous routes were described as narrow rivers with fast moving water, leading to an assumption that they were rapids. This region was full of rapids in areas less than approximately a square mile. For these sections, it was impossible to be accurate beyond a general area.

Even though Rock’s maps presented serious challenges in trying to line up with contemporary maps, it was interesting to observe how the accuracy of the maps increased along his journey. This may be due to the fact that later locations had more distinctive landmarks, which can be seen in pages 8 and 9.  It is unlikely that his cartography skills would have improved substantially, however his observation skills may have.

Figure 4: View from Google Earth showing a dam constructed after J.F. Rock's hand-drawn maps were created.

The most intriguing part of this project was where Rock's map was almost logically aligned with the features shown on Google Earth, but one section remained where the river in the satellite images seemed to disappear into a rather large lake that was not marked on Rock's map.  The discrepancy took up a significant portion of the route and required closer examination.  Upon looking at it, Rusty Russell, the Collections Manager in the Dept of Botany, immediately knew to zoom in as far as possible on the Google Earth map.  And lo and behold, there was now a dam, which had drastically altered the landscape and waterways since Rock's travels (Figure 4).  

 

 

To view the full course of Rock's journey that was plotted in Google Earth, you can Download JosephRockJourney or click on the map below to view in Google Maps.  Enjoy!

 

View JosephRockJourney.kml in a larger map

 

Sources

The following websites were used to help disambiguate place names:

http://www.fallingrain.com/world/TH/

http://simple.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_cities_in_Thailand

http://gospelgo.com/a/thaiv.htm

National Penmanship Day : And the Award Goes to…

By Sonoe Nakasone, Field Book Project

Both this image and the one below come from Stevan J. Arnold's journal and field notes, April 1963-September 1965.

I apologize to our readers because an important event occurred without comment on our blog. In addition to being the beginning of the Chinese New Year (Gung Hay Fat Choy!), last Monday was also National Penmanship Day. Where was I?

I was hiding in shame, for my handwriting has always suffered in favor of efficiency. The other girls in my school classes obsessed with achieving straight, perfectly formed letters. Me? “Well, I can read it.” In a CBS Sunday Morning story, one expert claimed that judgments about a child’s intelligence are often based on the quality of his or her handwriting which can affect grades. I can at least partially attest to the expert’s claim; teachers and classmates thought I was lazy, apathetic, and inattentive to detail (and I will neither confirm nor deny these accusations). My real motivation (or lack thereof when it came to neat handwriting) was that with all the important things to do writing cute letters seemed a superfluous concern.

Perhaps that is exactly what many of the collectors whose field notes I’ve cataloged think when they write their notes: with all of the important information to capture – localities, names, descriptions, temperatures – who has time to dot all the “i”s, cross all the “t”s, etc.? “So what if a few extra squiggles find their way into my writing,” they might argue, “as long as I can read it.” The question is can anyone else read it? I’ve even looked back at my own notes and struggled to make sense of them. As someone who reads field notes every working day of the year, I will tell you that reading messy handwriting becomes particularly tricky when trying to decipher the name of a location, for example, in a country you know little about. Thank goodness for the Google Search auto correct feature – “Did you mean: Limon, Costa Rica,” Google asks coyly when I search for what I thought was “Linon, Costa Rica”. I know someone else had problems reading the same collection because the archive’s finding aid reads “Cindad Bolivar, Venezuela” several times instead of the correct “Ciudad Bolivar”.

It was in this seemingly endless stream of the scratches and scribble that one man’s field notes appeared as a life raft pulling me towards the safe banks of legibility. This year’s Field Book Project National Penmanship Day Award goes to that man, Steven J. Arnold (Smithsonian Institution Archives Record Unit 7311). Arnold worked with renowned Entomologist Paul D. Hurd, Jr., collecting and researching carpenter bees in Mexico and various Central American countries. Although not the only nicely written field notes in existence, Arnold’s notes are some of the neatest, most intelligible I’ve had the luck to catalog. The quality of Arnold’s handwriting made his notes faster to catalog and allowed me to be more detailed and accurate in my description of the content and list of geographic names. His penmanship isn’t about beauty; I’ve seen more beautiful, loopy script that is a work of art – but I couldn’t read it! It’s about longevity. Arnold didn’t allow his research to get lost within his own chicken scratch.

As we grow older, good penmanship does sort of become superfluous. We are judged more on our ideas, our actions, and end products than our penmanship. In this age of emails and born digital documents, handwritten documents are often kept to ourselves. For those collectors that still keep handwritten notes, however, consider taking a page out of Steven J. Arnold’s book and remember that few will learn from the words you’ve written if they can’t read what you wrote.

Defining Where You Are…

by Lesley Parilla, Field Book Project

 

(1)Map of Michigan, United States Geological Survey.

Geography is an important element for cataloging field books. We are mindful that geographic information needs to be entered accurately and in a predictable manner to assure expected search results in the future. For this reason, I began to wonder about the geographical descriptions of the Lawrence Walkinshaw’s materials (Smithsonian Institution Archive Acc. 93-079). Walkinshaw was an ornithologist who did the majority of his field work in Michigan, in the Upper Peninsula. His manner of indicating locations initially left me at a loss.

Most collectors I’ve cataloged record location with country, state, town, or places like mountain ranges and national parks. In more challenging cases they may refer to territorial boundaries that are no longer used, or list a property owner. Walkinshaw was the first in my experience to consistently refer to county. Initially I considered this to be an idiosyncrasy, something not uncommon in archival materials. I have since learned of several examples of this type of location recording.

Paleontologist G.A. Cooper often listed counties in New York State because he organized his findings by “quadrangles”. Similarly paleontologist Charles Elmer Resser noted locations by county when working in the Rocky Mountain region. This practice, however, is not limited to paleontologists, nor is it limited to a particular region. But as I mentioned earlier, this was my first run in with this occurrence.

Scientists’ recording methods are often unique to them. Field books are usually meant for the creator’s own use, so information can vary in its detail and completeness. Some notes are extremely precise. When cataloging the field notes of Ichthyologist Isaac Ginsberg (SIA RU 7187), he recorded streams and bridges I could identify through our geographical authorities, finding places like Bohemia Bridge in Cecil County, Maryland. In others, we struggle to narrow down what and where a location is. Behaviorist M. Moynihan (SIA Acc. 01-096) worked at Smithsonian Tropical Research Institute (STRI) and throughout South America during his career. He was wonderful about listing locations at the top of each entry. Unfortunately he did not always specify enough for me to determine the location with assurance. He once listed only “Santa Rosa”; a name like this could be a town, province, mountain range, and in one of several countries.

But back to my original thought…

Walkinshaw listed most locations in Michigan by county, and then sometimes specified the corresponding town. This habit had me confused for a while, thinking it was peculiar to him. Eventually I came up with a more likely theory.

Much of his work was completed on the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. This area is similar to locations near where I’ve lived, places like Aroostook County in Maine (known as “the county”) with very low population density and economies built around agriculture or forest management. Towns can be so small that it proves infeasible to manage services at the town level, and thus government services are taken on by the county or state. Because of this, people may find it more useful to identify location by county than would be the habit of individuals from denser population centers. Residents of large cities like New York City may be more likely to refer to their neighborhood than their town.

While cataloging field books, we strive to be consistent in our methods, but still record the information in a way that accurately reflects the type of information in the field book. So if you were taking field notes, how would you define where you are?

Hats off to collectors in the field

By Lesley Parilla, Field Book Project. 

In honor of National Hat Day (January 15)

89-13384[1]. William Mann on a camel, Sinai Peninsula, 1914. 79-11666, William and Lucile Mann in British Guiana on a collecting trip for the National Zoological Park, SIA RU 7293.

While cataloging I’ve come across a lot of pictures of collectors in tropical climates wearing the ubiquitous pith helmet. These enjoyable images seemed to deserve some sort of recognition. Besides being utilitarian and utterly fashionable, pith helmets have actually been used to document field work, as described below.

SIA2011-0232a. Portion of field book page with photograph taken by Edward Chapin of carton nest of Nasutitermes with pith helmet in Jamaica, 1937.

The Field Book Project includes a sizable number of photographs documenting field work. These images include a wide range of content, but one of my favorite themes has been how collectors choose to demonstrate the size of the photographed subjects. One might think that scientists would bring measuring devices with them to put in photographs, but often they use readily available objects placed next to the item photographed to indicate size.

Full page with photograph taken by Edward Chapin of carton nest of Nasutitermes with pith helmet in Jamaica, 1937.

Often scientists utilize colleagues or tools at hand. When William Foshag (Smithsonian Institution Archives Record Unit 7281) was studying the eruption of Paricutín Volcano in the 1940’s, he would place a hammer next to examples of volcanic bombs [fragments of rock sent aloft by an erupting volcano]. Naturalist Edmund Heller (SIA RU 7179), while in Peru in the 1910’s, had a colleague hold a snake specimen to demonstrate its length.

Entomologist Edward Chapin, Curator at the United States National Museum from 1934-1954, used this method of size demonstration several times during field work to the Carribean and South America. He produced some of my favorite examples of this type of photograph, one of which is the pith helmet seen above. Though he worked primarily on insects, his field books include a fair number of images documenting local vegetation.

The photograph above comes from a collection of three note books (SIA Accession 11-085) documenting his work in Cuba and Jamaica in 1937 as well as Colombia in the 1940’s. There are several photographs with object used to demonstrate size in these field books.  I've included some of my favorites below, and hope you enjoy them as much as I have.

SIA2011-0224. Portion of field book page with photograph of Silk wood tree photographed with a colleague by Edward Chapin, 1937.

SIA2011-0403. Portion of field book page with photograph by Edward Chapin, in Guasca, Colombia, 1942.

A behaviorist in Panama

By Lesley Parilla, Field Book Project

SIA2008-2981. Martin Moynihan in the field while studying Gulls (Laridae) in United Kingdom (date unknown).

Martin Moynihan (SIA Acc. 01-096) was a behaviorist that studied behavioral evolutionary biology. He covered a wide range of fauna during his career, including primates, squid, and birds. Moynihan’s collection cataloged by the Field Book Project through his association with the Smithsonian Tropical Research Institute. He worked at the Barro Colorado Island research facility as a Resident Naturalist in 1957, and became the founding Director when the research facilities were consolidated as the Smithsonian Tropical Research Institute in 1966. He played a pivotal role in its growth, 1966-1974.

SIA 2008-2977.  Martin Moynihan in the field while studying Gulls, United Kingdom, (date unknown).

Moynihan appears to have been a dramatic and dynamic person. Articles written after his death by colleagues and major newspapers paint quite a picture, even if only a portion is accurate. The New York Times stated:

“He swam along with the reef squid in the warm waters of Atlantic Panama off the San Blas islands, with a waterproof notebook dangling from his belt.”

Neal Griffith Smith, a colleague of 36 years, wrote:

“When I first met him, he looked like Salvador Dali, for he sported an almost 5-inch waxed mustache, wore a Bond street suit, and carried a proper British umbrella. He remained an elegant though less dandy figure for the rest of his life…He had a reputation for rages and sudden changes of mood. In the early years he was always firing off his resignation because things were not going his way. It was pure theater. Martin was a gentleman in the true sense of the word, and perhaps the most intelligent person I ever met.” (p. 758)

 It should come as no surprise that he created detailed, exuberant, and challenging field notes. Each entry is headed with location, date, often with type of fauna being observed. Most of his notes are carefully indexed by type of animal and behavior. Illustrations of animals are throughout the notes, and often lovely drawings. He took great care to highlight text with colored pencil and varying patterns along the left-hand columns, usually indicating a specific animal or couple being observed. Even the page layouts appear pleasing to the eye. When writing observations, Moynihan used a plethora of exclamation points and questions marks. There is no question, Moynihan loved his work.

SIA 2012-1880, SIA2012-1872. Field notes of Martin H. Moynihan on Cyanerpes (Honeycreepers) observed in Barro Colorado, Panama, 1958.

His notes have been some of the most challenging to catalog for this project, both in content and organization. This is not to say that Moynihan’s notes are not organized. They are very well arranged. The challenge came with balancing the kind of information collected for each record, and what to include.

So what were some of the challenges?

•  What materials are cataloged? As a behaviorist, Moynihan’s collection falls in a gray area for the Field Book Registry. He didn’t explicitly collect, but he recorded extensive observations of flora and fauna in locations where a lot of collecting by Smithsonian has since occurred (STRI). We decided to include the majority of his observations of animals not in captivity, since observations of animals in captivity are akin to lab notes. He reorganized his notes without concern about the status of the animals he was observing. Without careful reading, the type of information he collected does not always make clear whether he was observing animals in captivity or the wild.
• How to deal with reorganized field notes? Moynihan recorded the notes chronologically, but every few years would reorganize by type of animal. He would then renumber the pages. This means that folders cover multiple years (with significant gaps) and locations. Sometimes they are not in chronological order. We strive when possible to note dates and location, but often had to limit chronological specificity to a list years because of gaps and cataloging time constraints.
• Where was Moynihan? was a challenge to determine location, because Moynihan worked throughout Central and South America. Normally one would be able to narrow it down to a region based on the geographic names of other locations around the same time period, but most notes are no longer in chronological order.
• How to balance content versus structure? There is so much structure to the field notes, that it can become difficult to balance the amount of structural description in the catalog record versus content. Each record must be able to stand on its own, so structure must be noted, but this cuts in to time for digging through the details of entries.

Over all these are amazing field notes to see. They include photographs, sketches, spectrograms, correspondence, and last but not least, Moynihan’s undeniable passion.

 

Wolfgang Saxon. (December 15, 1996). “Martin H. Moynihan, 68, an Authority on Animal Behavior.” New York Times access on December 1, 2011 at http://www.nytimes.com/1996/12/15/world/martin-h-moynihan-68-an-authority-on-animal-behavior.html

Neal Griffith Smith. (July 1998). “In Memoriam: Martin Humphrey Moynihan, 1928-1996.” American Ornithologist’s Union. Published by University of California Press. Accessed December 1, 2011 at http://www.jstor.org/stable/4089423

Smithsonian Tropical Research Institute. “Highlights: Important events in the history of Barro Colorado.” Accessed December 1, 2011 at (http://www.stri.si.edu/sites/forest_speaks/english/about_forest_speaks/history/index.html

 

These Collectors are Nuts! Indices

By Sonoe Nakasone, Field Book Project

As a librarian, I have a certain appreciation for indices.  It might surprise (or appall) non-librarian folk out there, but creating indices can actually be a full-time job.  They’re called indexers—those who painstakingly review a document to extract key terms that may be used by readers when searching for topics.  I think indexers must be crazy, yet indices make our lives much easier.  Before the internet became the “just Google it” phenomenon it is today, indices were a researcher’s best friend.

There are many types of indices so to be clear, I’m referring to indices in print, specifically ones appended to a document and used as a guide to search for topics within that document. These are typically found in materials intended for publication.  I mean, who in their right mind would review messy notes to create an index—OH, oh right...that’s what this article is about….

The first time I saw an index in field notes I was impressed, but it seemed excessive.  When I considered the difficulty in skimming (often messy) hand written notes that may or may not clearly label locations or subjects, however, I wondered why more collectors didn’t index their field notes.  Eventually I discovered that it wasn’t rare for collectors to provide some kind of guide to their field notes, although the large majority of field notes I’ve seen do not include indices.  Field notes that did contain indices made it easier to decipher sometimes unintelligible cursive writing and provided a hint into the information the collector considered most important for navigating his/her field notes. 

As you’ll see in the following example of three collector’s field notes from the Smithsonian Institution Archives (SIA), each index has a character and utility of its own.

 

The index in this field book—created by Arthur Wilson Stelfox (SIA RU 7379) while collecting mollusks in Ireland, Scotland, and England—is organized alphabetically by location name.  Such an index is particularly useful here because Stelfox created these notes over multiple years and collecting trips.  Locations, therefore, do not always follow one route, but instead skip around.  Notes on mollusks collected in one particular location maybe located on several pages throughout the book.

Edward Alphonso Goldman’s notebook (from SIA RU 7364) is a journal containing narrative descriptions on collections and observations of mammals, birds, and plants found throughout his trip.  Often, Goldman’s notes indicate which animals or plants are common in the locations he visits.  Using this index, the reader could get snapshot of the flora and fauna of any of the listed location

Indices in Richard Blackwelder’s journals (SIA Acc. 96-099) are perhaps the most impressive I’ve seen and are the inspiration for this article.  Blackwelder’s notes describe every aspect of his collecting trip.  It is fitting, then, that he provides both a general index and index of insects.  The General Index records place names, names of people, and subjects not related to insects (e.g. birds).

 
The main purpose of Blackwelder’s field trips, however, was to collect insects.  A specialized index for insects is therefore also included.  Insects are listed by class, family, or genus.  This provides researchers the option of looking for insects (or other things) collected in one particular location or going directly to references for a specific specimen. 

If there is any point to this article other than showing off some beautiful and practical indices, it might be that more collectors should index their field notes.  It is undoubtedly a time consuming process to index handwritten notes, but the benefits when it comes time to use those notes are enormous.

In the Field for the Holidays

 By Lesley Parilla, Field Book Project

Archival materials are wonderful at imparting the personal nature of field work. The publications from collecting trips offer the results, but the back-stories are in the field books. During collecting trips, life still goes on at home; bills need to get paid, and holidays occur. Some of my favorite moments cataloging have been when collectors mention how they deal with these challenges.

Field accounts can seem to exist without reference to a time period; there may be few references to contemporary events. For some collectors, their remote locations leave little chance to know what is going on in the rest of the world. Newspapers may not be available, work days run long, or collecting becomes too consuming to comment on other aspects of life. Holidays are generally the exception.

Even scientists who rarely record personal information in their notes will invariably acknowledge major holidays. Some impart details about celebrations or thoughts of home. During the United States North Pacific Exploring Expedition (RU 7253) the naturalist William Stimpson recorded details about the holiday celebration aboard ship while in the “Japanese Seas” on Christmas Day, 1854.

“Beating about the Asses Ears. Wind NE. Weather pleasant. Temp 56. We had an entertainment in the Ward Room. All sorts of good things, with wines, champagne and eggnog…to which all the officers were invited from the Commodore to the Master’s Mates. A very jolly time. At 8 pm, I heard the call “ready about” suddenly given, and [came] on deck, found we had got round just in time to clear a dangerous rock not laid down in the charts. The black craggy mass seemed but a stone’s throw from our aft rail.”

When Edmund Heller was on the American Museum of Natural History China Expedition, December 24, 1916 (RU 7179), he recorded specimens collected and the menu for Christmas Eve dinner: “two roasted mallards stuffed with chestnuts, cocktails made of oranges, Chinese gin and magar(?), a chocolate cake and cocoa.”

Some collections reference the holidays in correspondence with home. A folder from early in Waldo Schmitt’s career (RU 7231) includes a letter sent by his daughter while he was participating in the Francis Bacon Scholarship Expedition to South America in 1936.

SIA 2012-1154, SIA 2012-1155. Letter from Waldo Schmitt’s daughter sent to him while in the field during the holidays. [Dear Daddy, I am sending a handkerchief because I have lost most of those you left behind.]

In the December 1962, Waldo was waiting in New Zealand to travel to the locations in Antarctica via military transport. Departure arrangements were delayed, and he was changing plans realizing he would be spending the holidays in New Zealand. Below is a letter to his wife about some of those plans.

“Today I want to send X-Mas cards; it’s finally come to the point where I get them or not. The question is to whom to send and how many. If as the bunch here is doing I would get the US stamps on them which we can do from here out, but here is the thought that folks would expect N.Z. [New Zealand] stamps. That decision I won’t make till I get cards written.”

The most apropos reference may be in the papers of Lawrence Walkinshaw (SIA Acc. 93-097). Walkinshaw was an ornithologist who did most of his field work in Michigan, but during the 1960’s he traveled across southern Africa and India. He spent the holidays in Africa with a colleague who gave him a new notebook as a gift with the following note inside.

“One item which seems quite naturally to be inseparable from you in your work is your notebook. Many years ago, during my Congo wanderings, I was given a ring file pocketbook, which has been a treasured and useful memento of that country for more than three decades. The Vincents hope that this very small seasonal gift may similarly serve you, and perhaps from time to time remind you of Natal, its cranes, and your rather unusual Christmas in 1961. --Jack Vincent”

So where ever you may be spending your holiday season, whether in the field or not, we wish you and yours warmest holiday wishes.

An Ornithological Christmas…

 By Lesley Parilla, Field Book Project

Smithsonian Institution Archive Image 75-16337. Edward F. Rivinus, Acting Director of Smithsonian Institution Press, with the egg of a barn owl he found in the Northwest Tower of the Smithsonian Institution Building (SIB), or "Castle," for the Audubon Society's Christmas bird count.

By now most people know how they will be spending their holidays, but for those still deciding, here is a novel alternative.

While cataloging the work of ornithologist Lawrence Walkinshaw (1904-1993), I came across something that seemed familiar—a list of references to bird counts 1923-1953 from the Christmas Bird Count (CBC). I remembered seeing a reference to the CBC before, but in field notes that were much older.

To give some context, the Christmas Bird Count was started Christmas of 1900 by Frank Chapman, an ornithologist with the American Museum of Natural History and member of the newly forming National Audubon Society. It was in response to concerns about diminishing bird populations. It also offered an alternative to the Christmas "Side Hunt", a holiday tradition during which participants would compete to see who could shoot more birds. The first count occurred across Canada and the United States (click to see the results of the first count). The “side hunt” tradition has died out, but the CBC continues.

The earlier materials I remembered that referred to the CBC were from the childhood of Alexander Wetmore (1886–1978), ornithologist and Secretary of the Smithsonian Institution 1945 to 1952. After doing some checking, I found that as an adolescent, Wetmore participated in the first Count. Below is a picture of Wetmore two years later. Wetmore’s bird observation field notes begin around age eight. Only a few years later, he participated in a brand new venture that took place in a hand full of locations in the United States.

SIA2011-2231. Jim Seely, Alexander Wetmore, Clarence Cook, and Art Rudy in North Freedom, Wisconsin, February 22, 1902.

The CBC, directed by the National Audubon Society, is now entering its 112th year. The count is the result of the international efforts of amateur bird enthusiasts, and is a wonderful example of the power of “citizen science.” Since its inception, it has made contributions to ornithology; there are several examples of its use in Smithsonian collections and on the Audubon website.

The National Audubon Society has made the CBC data available online. See what you can find about the history of birds in your area. Or, for those of you looking for another way to give back this holiday season or enjoy the winter weather, take part. The count begins tomorrow, December 14th.

Where was Waldo...

By Lesley Parilla, Field Book Project


SIA2011-0773.  Waldo Schmitt, 1933, Hancock Pacific-Galapagos Expedition.

The collections we catalog are often the result a lifetime of research and collecting. These scientists go out routinely to collect, and usually take part in one or two expeditions over a career. When I first looked at the finding aid for SIA RU 7231 collection of Waldo LaSalle Schmitt (1887-1977), I was surprised to find more than 15 different expeditions listed. Some of these cover multiple years. I knew there would be plenty of material to include. Several questions came to mind. How did he manage to take part in all of them? Was he invited? Did he organize them? Did he ever spend time at home? Delving into the life of Waldo was going to be interesting.

Waldo Schmitt's Expeditions


Click here to see Waldo Schmitt's expeditions mapped on Google maps.

• 1911 Bureau of Fisheries Expedition to Lower California
• 1911 Bureau of Fisheries Chignik (Alaska) Biological Survey
• 1912 Bureau of Fisheries Survey of San Francisco Bay
• 1914 Bureau of Fisheries Halibut Survey of Washington and Oregon
• 1918 Bureau of Fisheries Spiny Lobster Investigations, La Jolla, California
• 1925-1927 Walter Rathbone Bacon Traveling Scholarship Expedition South America and Falklands
• 1930-1932 Fieldwork at Carnegie Marine Laboratory, Dry Tortugas, Florida
• 1933-1935 Hancock Pacific-Galapagos Expedition
• 1937 Smithsonian-Hartford West Indies Expedition
• 1938 Presidential Cruise 1938 to Galapagos
• 1939 Hancock South America Expedition
• 1940 U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service Alaska King Crab Investigation
• 1941-1942 United States Navy Trip to the Galapagos
• 1955 Smithsonian-Bredin Belgian Congo Expedition
• 1956 Smithsonian-Bredin Caribbean Expedition I
• 1957 Smithsonian-Bredin Society Islands Expedition
• 1958 Smithsonian-Bredin Caribbean Expedition II
• 1959Smithsonian-Bredin Caribbean Expedition III
• 1960 Smithsonian-Bredin Yucatan Expedition
• 1962-1963 Palmer Peninsula Survey, U.S. Antarctic Research Program

Waldo has proven to be a fascinating figure. As you might imagine by my reference to him by his first name, his personality shines through his papers and records and inspires a certain level of affection.

He was a Zoologist whose specialty was decapod crustaceans (the order that includes crabs, lobsters, and shrimp), and held several positions at National Museum of Natural History (NMNH) eventually becoming Curator of Zoology. Waldo conducted a tremendous amount of work in the Caribbean and Galapagos Islands, but additionally collected in places as far flung as Democratic Republic of Congo and Antarctica. He had the enviable position of taking part in multiple expeditions across the globe, and was invited or suggested (as he was for Franklin D. Roosevelt’s Presidential Cruise of 1938) for other expeditions because of his reputation.

It seems clear from his materials that Waldo had a personality made for expedition work. He was personable, had a colorful way with words, and was always ready with a story. Waldo often put particular care into accounts about places he visited, locals met, and interactions with expedition participants. His diaries were being read by colleagues back at the Smithsonian, along with progress reports, and he seemed to make a point to make the accounts good reading. These field books make places and events easy to visualize.

I have found answers for some of my initial questions while cataloging the collection. Waldo formed strong relationships with several individuals who funded multiple expeditions. In other cases, I have found correspondence from colleagues inviting his participation, or, in the case of the Presidential Cruise, a letter from a supervisor suggesting him. I have found only a few expeditions that he seems to have run. Materials in the Smithsonian-Bredin Belgian Congo Expedition, 1955, indicate he preferred to be a participant and focus on collecting. As far as a balance with home-life, most of the expeditions covered portions of the year. During these times, letters to and from his wife impart a strong sense familiarity and affection. I have also found notes sent to him by his children while he was out collecting. But perhaps the title of his biography by Entomologist Richard E. Blackwelder states it best: The Zest for Life, or, Waldo Had a Pretty Good Run: the Life of Waldo LaSalle Schmitt.

Glorious Day! Or A Bird Watcher’s Field Notes

By Sonoe Nakasone, Field Book Project

 

There were few days in James Eike’s life that were not “glorious”, “wonderful”, or “perfect”, according to his own description.  It’s Eike’s apparent enthusiasm for life that first inspired an extraordinary interest in me for his field books.  My curiosity became admiration for so dedicated and constant a lover of birds.

Eike’s field notes record a sampling of the bird population in Northern Virginia over the course of 30+ years through the daily notes on birds he observed at his homes in Falls Church and Fairfax and in surrounding areas.  His collection, Smithsonian Institution Archives Record Unit 7342, consists of more than 80 pocket sized spiral notebooks and hundreds of bird checklists.  Unlike most creators of field notes we catalog, however, Eike was not a professional scientist.  Furthermore, his field notes do not correspond to a collection of specimen.  What, then, makes Eike’s notes so special?

There are several valuable aspects to Eike’s field notes, despite the lack of a specimen collection and professional training of the creator.  One, Eike rarely missed a day in over 30 years of bird watching, even asking neighbors and friends to bird watch if he could not.  Second, Eike’s bird watching focused on a concentrated location—Northern Virginia—mostly at or near his home (although Eike occasionally bird watched in Maryland, DC, North Carolina, and other locations).  Third, in addition to his field notes which contained freehand lists and observations, mostly of birds in his neighborhood, Eike kept preprinted checklists of birds from numerous field trips each year.  Finally, Eike’s notes contain historical weather data because he noted weather conditions, often including temperatures.

                                  

On a more personal level, Eike’s notes are one example of the intrinsic value of field notes because of the integration of these notes into all aspects of his life.  Often above, below, or sometimes just beside the list of birds spotted, Eike would include snippets of the events from his life.  Some of these snippets reflected personal triumphs, some pieces of history, still others (a majority) the love he felt for wife Claire, daughter Sue, and grand-daughter Rachel.  Some examples follow. 

July 2, 1960: Eike spotted the first cicadas of the season and a Box White.  Next to this he prominently writes “pay raise yesterday”!  June 7, 1963: “Sue’s graduation!! Bob white, king bird […]”. 

November 22, 1963: “[…] Pres. Kennedy Killed in Dallas, died 1PM.  Song sps, starlings […] Heartbreak Day!  The kind, humorous, sincere man’s voice stilled”. 

March 20, 1969: “Haze and overcast […] green heron, bob white […] Neil Armstrong and “Buzz” Aldrin landed on moon! […] Red bellies, downys […]”. 

July 29, 1979: “Sun, 70-85 degrees.  Bay Ridge Horse Show—Rachel won two ribbons!! […] Observed at Bay ridge equestrian stables on 7/29 (8:40AM-12:40PM), 1 bob white, 20 killden […]”.


April 6, 1980: “Our 40^th Anniversary!!  […] 1 purple finch [♀] (s), white crowns, juncos, […]”. 

August 9, 1980: “[…] 1 flicker, 1 no. oriole. My brother, Carl Eike, Jr., died this afternoon at his home at Woodbridge, of two heart attacks—would have been 83 on 8/31 […]”.

Eike continued to take notes until just weeks before he died on February 8, 1983 at the age of 82.  On January 17, 1983 he ecstatically wrote “[…] Sue and Rachel arrived! So great! Bluebirds [...]”.  Eike’s final entry was on Jan 21, 1983.  Beneath this entry, Claire writes “fini”, as instructed by Eike.  Claire, herself an avid bird watcher, resumed the notes in June and finished out the notebook believing Eike would have wanted her to.    

Eike’s personality, constancy, dedication and love of bird watching did not go unrewarded.  Shortly after his death, the Virginia Society of Ornithology (VSO), of which James and Claire Eike were long time members, created the James W. Eike Service Award in Eike’s honor.  This honor is still awarded today. 

Scientific field work and food

By Lesley Parilla, Field Book Project

Happy Thanksgiving to all from the Field Book Project

SIA2011-0660. Menu cover from William and Lucile Mann’s expedition to South America, 1940.

When I started in this job, I expected to find a lot of details in field books, but I was surprised by one trend in particular. A lot of collectors write about what they eat. Scientists often collect in remote locations, with few comforts. Things taken for granted at home (like dessert) become high points in a day in the field.

Still, for some, it seems a bit of an obsession. Journal entries sometimes start with date, weather, and food consumed. Botanist, Mary Agnes Chase (Smithsonian Institution Archives Record Unit 229) commented in her correspondence that she did not understand the fascination herself until she was in the field climbing Caparaó in Brazil in 1929, which proved to be an exceedingly wet and exhausting trip, made worse by undercooked beans and rice. In the field, collectors have few luxuries; food, whether good or bad, becomes an important moment in the day. Hitchcock, a botanist specializing in grasses, recounted efforts to defend his bacon while collecting in rural Florida.

 “The third night I was obliged to sleep on the ground. I had kept my piece of bacon in one of the bags along with my hammock. Now Florida ants are intensely fond of bacon. They stung me viciously when I attempted to swing the hammock and could not be shaken off. So I allowed them to sleep in the hammock while I slept on the ground.”

 This attention to food can extend throughout entire collections. Waldo Schmitt (Smithsonian Institution Archives, Record Unit 7231), an Invertebrate Zoologist, would often list each item consumed for each meal. When he was in charge of provisions for expeditions in the Caribbean, his lists of groceries once specified three different kinds of cheese. He was also fond of including cocktail recipes in notes written to his colleagues.

Some entries demonstrate how food allows for connecting with new acquaintances. While in French Polynesia, Waldo Schmitt attended a local dance competition. Subsequently, one group of dancers from Bora Bora came to the expedition vessel to share a meal. Waldo cooked a portion of lobster originally purchased to be specimens.

SIA2012-0656a Lunch aboard the vessel Mureva, with dancers from Bora Bora (in local dance competition) consuming lobster, 1957

In the Mann collection (Smithsonian Institution Archives Record Unit 7293), references to food exemplify how collecting events are also chances to strengthen relationships with official partners and professional contacts. Mann’s scrapbooks contain photographs and menus from official dinners around the world.

SIA2011-0585. Menu from Farewell dinner in New York City before Mann’s expedition in South America, 1940.

SIA2011-0589. The William and Lucile Mann aboard the SS Uruguay, 1940.

Sometimes collectors’ field notes document food in local cultures and ways they prepare ingredients or recipes for local dishes. When Hitchcock traveled to collect in China, for example, he photographed inhabitants processing brine to table salt (as seen below).

SIA2011-0564.  Workman pouring brine for making salt in Hoihow [Haikou], China, 1921.

In another collection, a recipe was found for Monkey a la Mocitana from the Mocitana Indians on the Ribert Bopi in Bolivia.

“Spider Monkeys are preferred. Build a fire under a grid made of green saplings. Place the monkeys whole on top of this. Cook till half burned, half roasted. When the arms stiffen into a protesting attitude, and the long tail is curled like a watch spring, the monkeys should be cleaned and such hairs as have not been burned off, scraped.” (Mann Collection Record Unit 7293)

Specimen collecting and the Department of Defense

By Lesley Parilla

 SIA2008-3196. Alexander Wetmore Standing Next to Jeep at Rio Las Tablas, Panama, 1948. After a number of visits, correspondence in the collection indicates that Wetmore was using the same Jeep during successive visits. Eventually they painted SM-INS in the front bumper marking it for Smithsonian Institution use (see SIA2008-3201).

While working on natural history and institution archive collections here at the Smithsonian, I have come across a lot of projects involving the collaboration between the Smithsonian and other federal agencies. Some of these relationships are short term, lasting months or years. Others extend for decades like that of United States Department of Agriculture (USDA) and National Museum of Natural History (NMNH). In the case of federal agencies working with NMNH, the agencies are often involved in natural resource management. The Bureau of Fisheries (later merged to create the United States Fish and Wildlife Service) contributed material in several collections at Smithsonian Institution Archives. One relationship that surprised me was the recurring collaborations between the Department of Defense (DOD) and the Smithsonian Institution.

 The structure of the work with DOD varies, and is usually based on a shared topic or geographic focus. The Department of Entomology has had an ongoing relationship with the US Army, Walter Reed Biosystematics Unit (WRBU) since 1961. WRBU coordinates with NMNH’s
Department of Entomology, to manage and develop the NMNH Mosquito collection, which has become the largest of its kind at 1.5 million specimens (http://wrbu.si.edu/WhatWeDo.html).

Usually what I find relates to specimen collecting trips in the form of expeditions or surveys. These seem to come about for two reasons—the Smithsonian Institution is, in many cases, the repository for national collections, cultural and biological. The US Military has a myriad of bases, outposts, and equipment around the world. When the US Government decides it is in the national interest to collect, circumstances have brought these two together. This has produced a string of expeditions, surveys, and informal relationships over the last two centuries. Below is an overview of just a few we’ve cataloged thus far.

• 1838-1842 Pre-dating the Institution, the United States Exploring Expedition (Wilkes Expedition) was commanded by Lieutenant Charles Wilkes of the United States Navy. Specimens from this expedition compose a large portion of NMNH’s earliest specimens.

SIA2011-1233, Specimen collected during the Expedition.

• 1853- 1858 As the US territory and commercial interests extended west in the nineteenth century, military personnel and resources worked with Smithsonian staff during expeditions like the United States North Pacific Exploring Expedition (1853-1856) to study of commercial fishing grounds and the Colorado Exploring Expedition (Ives Expedition) (1857 - 1858) to develop transportation options across the southwest US.
• 1923 The Tanager Surveys during the 1920’s were conducted with the US Navy, Bernice Pauahi Bishop Museum in Honolulu (Hawaii), and USDA (with Alexander Wetmore). The Expedition was named after the Naval Minesweeper used for the series of cruises through the Hawaiian Islands. Archives materials from the 1923 collecting trip document mapping efforts by the U.S. Navy, and collecting of botanical and ornithological specimens.

SIA2011-0842 Survey Participants during the Tanager Expedition, 1923.

• 1939 When Franklin D. Roosevelt took the Presidential Cruise of 1939, he invited Smithsonian staff to come along. Waldo Schmitt, Curator of Invertebrate Zoology at NMNH, collected during the voyage on the US Navy vessel. Specimen collecting was done with the assistance of naval personnel.
• 1946 -1953 Alexander Wetmore studied birds in the Panama Canal Zone, with the support of personnel and equipment at the Jaque Auxiliary Airfield and Albrook Field, Panama. His correspondence documents relationships with local US troops, use of aircraft to select possible archaeological dig sites, and vehicles to access sites for ornithological collecting.
• 1962-1963 Waldo Schmitt, Curator of the Invertebrate Zoology Department of the National Museum of Natural History, took part in survey work during the Palmer Peninsula (Antarctica) Survey, at the United States Antarctic Program, which has been an ongoing research location since 1956, supported by National Science Found and supported with DOD equipment and personnel.

SIA2012-0664a Starfish specimen collected off the coast of Palmer Peninsula, Antarctica, c. 1962.

•  1962-1973 The Pacific Ocean Biological Survey Program (POBSP), started in 1962, was a cooperative effort between the Smithsonian Institution and DOD to study pelagic birds of the Pacific.

SIA2011-1366. Blue-faced boobies, November 11, 1968, location unknown. Taken during the Pacific Ocean Biological Survey Program.

It is exciting to find, as I catalog, that what initially appeared to be isolated projects between agencies really demonstrates an understanding of the benefits of working together.  Additionally, information on specimens and when they were collected is often in unexpected places.  Information from the vessel Tanager may be located at a DOD archive, National Archives, the Smithsonian, or the Bishop Museum. The Field Book Project works to make those connections easier to find. 

Trick or Treat Rafinesque Style Part 2

By Sonoe Nakasone, Field Book Project

Today, Halloween 2011, we pay tribute to one of natural sciences most enigmatic and haunting figures. 

     
Left: Constantine Samueul Rafineque.  Image published before 1923,and in the US public domain. 
Right: You may recognize this image from the banner of our blog.  This is an image of a fish from Rafinesque's 1818 field notes taken in Kentucky, Washington, D.C., Pennsylvania, and perhaps other eastern states.  All images in this article are from the same field book.

Constantine Samuel Rafinesque (1788-1840) was the quintessential Renaissance Man. He instructed himself in the various disciplines of the natural sciences—especially Ichthyology, Botany, and Malacology—as well as cultural Anthropology and Linguistics. Many of his forward thinking ideas branded him an eccentric during his lifetime. One of these ideas, his patented Divitial Invention, allowed divided portions of a bank stock of deposit certificates to circulate as currency. He was also an advocate for the use of fireproof materials to build homes. Rafinesque is even attributed with discovering a botanical cure for tuberculosis, although this cannot be verified as there is now no known documentation on the exact ingredients of his remedy.  Medical Flora of the United States (1828), which contained botanical medical cures, was one of Rafinesque’s most successful publications.

     
Rafinesque offended many of his contemporaries in the American natural science community with his unconventional and forward thinking ideas.  Yet, a look at Rafinesque’s collection of notebooks from 1815-1834 reveals meticulous work that should not go unrecognized.  Informative and mesmerizing, Rafinesque’s notes transport readers and researchers to the rich 19th Century, east coast landscape in which he collected many zoological and botanical specimen. 

Perhaps a reflection of his eccentricity, Rafinesque’s field notes do not seem to lie static on the page, but rather jump up to greet the reader’s curiosity of the natural world. Beautiful sketches of ichthyologic, botanical, and other specimens are found throughout the collection. Spectacular details portray the scales of a fish, folds on the underside of a mushroom, and the ridges on a shell. Thorough descriptions and often measurements are included with each sketch.

Rafinesque spent most of his life traveling, according to his autobiography, “A Life of Travels”, and he greatly enjoyed being outdoors. Fittingly, his collection of field books also incorporates a number of bucolic landscape sketches and hand drawn maps. These additional sketches will hopefully guide researchers through the locations in which he collected and allow them to see through his eyes.

Although some of Rafinesque’s inventive schemes were profitable enough to finance his extensive traveling and field research for some time, he fell badly into debt by the time of his death in 1840. Recognized by some as brilliant, he nevertheless died a largely unappreciated man. In the more than one and a half centuries since his death, however, scholars and researchers have come to recognize Rafinesque’s contributions to science. Today, he is credited for having identified a number of new species. Additionally, he has two genre, Rafinesquia (family Asteraceae) and Rafinesquina (family Rafinesquinidae), named after him.  In fact, I was pleased to see one of his namesakes listed as a specimen collected in one of the paleontologist G. Arthur Cooper’s field books.  I am also pleased to think that if Rafinesque had lived to see today, he would find many of his “crazy” ideas validated.

Over 150 years after his death, much about Rafinesque’s life and work remains puzzling.  For one, there’s his successful hoax (see last week’s article)—but was it really a hoax?  It is generally accepted as such but others still subscribe to the validity of his claims.  Add to that his many ideas spanning a variety of disciplines, which were so far ahead of his time that it seems as if he possessed a crystal ball.  Finally, there is his ghost.  Rafinesque died practically penniless and in debt.  His landlord planned to sell his corpse to science but, as the story goes, Rafinesque’s friends stole his body from the window of his apartment and gave it a proper burial.  Years later, his body was exhumed and transported to Transyvlania Univsersity, where he had been a respected professor for seven years.  Today, he is supposedly interred under the steps of Old Morrison, a Transylvania University building that Rafinesque is said to haunt to this day. 

References
1. Flannery, Michael A. The Medicine and Medicinal Plants of C. S. Rafinesque. Economic Botany, Vol. 52, No. 1 (Jan. - Mar., 1998), pp. 27-43.

2. Biography.youdictionary.com. Constantine Samuel Rafinesque Biography. Accessed in 2011 from http://biography.yourdictionary.com/constantine-samuel-rafinesque.

3. Endersby, J. ‘The vagaries of a Rafinesque’: imagining and classifying American nature.  Studies of History and Philosophy of Biology and Biomedical Science, Vol. 40, No. 3 (September 2009), pp. 167-178. http://www.jimendersby.com/PDF/Endersby_Vagaries_2009.pdf

4. Taylor, Raymond L. Reviewed work(s): A Life of Travels, by C. S. Rafinesque: Being a Verbatim and Literatim Reprint of the Original and Only Edition by C. S. Rafinesque; Francis W. Pennell. The William and Mary Quarterly, Third Series, Vol. 2, No. 2 (Apr., 1945), pp. 213-221.

5. Waymarking.com. Rafinesque, The Man and The Myth.  Accessed in 2011 from http://www.waymarking.com/waymarks/WM21F2_Old_Morrison_Transylvania_University_Lexington_KY.

6.Wikipedia.org.  Constantine Samuel Rafinesque.  Accessed from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Constantine_Samuel_Rafinesque, October 2011.

Trick or Treat Rafinesque Style, Part One

The Field Book Project has reserved Halloween for a Collection Highlight on Constantine Samuel Rafinesque, a man whose field notes, life and death are full of treats and quite possibly even a few tricks.  A man such as Rafinesque, however, really can’t be summed up in one article, so here is a sneak peak at the man and his collection.  Be sure to read Part Two on Halloween Day!

 

Published before 1923 and public domain in the US.  Retrieved October 25, 2011 from Wikimedia Commons.

The Hoax that Spanned Two Centuries

It was not until 1995 that Constantine Samuel Rafinesque’s translation of a Lenape or Delaware Indian text called “Walum Olum” (published in The American Nations (1836)) was generally accepted by scholars as a hoax.  Walum Olum, the original of which Rafinesque claimed was lost, supposedly recorded the history of the Lenape crossing the Bering Strait to enter the Americas.  Although subsequent research disproved many of the claims made in Walum Olum, the text was still thought to be legitimate for the rest of the 19^th Century and most of the 20^th Century.  To confuse matters further, there are resources (for example this webpage) that claim some Lenape believe Rafinesque’s translations are based on authentic Lenape mythology.

Rafinesque was a self-taught naturalist who was widely regarded by the established American scientific community as an eccentric and by some as a charlatan.  This rejection must have been frustrating for Rafinesque; as next week’s article will discuss, he was a brilliant man who more contemporary scientists have come to recognize for his field work and avant-garde thinking.  It is ironic that one of his few successes during his lifetime should turn out to be fraudulent.

Why would Rafinesque attempt such a hoax?  According to this article in Archeology: A Publication of the Archeological Institute of America, Rafinesque may have had several motivations: 1) profit from the book’s success (he was often in debt), 2) in response to the popularity of the Book of Mormon, which Rafinesque viewed as a hoax, 3) promotion of his own theories that Native Americans originated from Asia, and 4) in response to what Rafinesque viewed as ridiculous claims in Josiah Priest’s “American Antiquities (1833)”.   

 

Comparitive word lists of an "Eskimo" (Inuit) language and Greenlandic.  SIA RU007250.  Click to see more detail.

To his credit Rafinesque was a talented linguist, and during his tenure as a professor at Transylvania University, taught languages as well as natural history.  There is evidence in Rafinesque’s natural history field notes, too, of his propensity toward linguistics.  One of Rafinesque’s field books includes notes on Native American languages.  It appears his intention was to compare languages or dialects of Native Americans throughout North America by identifying similarities across word lists.  The language table he outlined in his field book is mostly incomplete, but word list comparisons of a few languages were recorded. For example, on the first page of the table there is a list of words in an Eskimo language and in Greenlandic. As far as I know, Walum Olum is the only known Rafinesque hoax.  Although I hold Rafinesque in high regard, I recognize that it can be wise to take anything related to him with a grain of salt.  As you will see on October 31^st, it’s difficult at times to separate the man from the myth.

 

According to Archeology: A Publication of the Archeological Institute of America

Collecting in 3-D

by Lesley Parilla

Collecting in 3-D Smithsonian Institution Archives, 87-2132 (OPPS Neg. No.), The Underwood Travel System, Catalog No. 28 [p. 4 illustration: Man holding stereoscope, pointing to Egypt on a large globe: line drawing, ca. 1907.]

Over the course of cataloging the Waldo Schmitt collection [SIA RU007231], I have been amazed by the array of material formats. Waldo was a prodigious documenter of his work using movies, diaries, notebooks, photographs, and slides. The color slides even reach back to his earlier field work. From what I can gather, Waldo appreciated using innovative methods of recording. For instance, in the 1960’s Waldo worked with a marine photographer Harry Pederson using new methods of photography to document behaviors of marine life of the Bahamas. Knowing this, I was still amazed to come across an unfamiliar format from the Smithsonian-Bredin Expedition to the Belgian Congo, 1955—stereographic slides.


Smithsonian Institution Archives. #SIA2012-0404. Elephants under trees at Gangala-Na-Bodio elephant training station in Congo, 1955

Smithsonian Institution Archives. #SIA2012-0403. Dancers at Paulis-Mangbetu, during Smithsonian-Bredin Belgian Congo Expedition, 1955

Smithsonian Institution Archives. #SIA2012-0405. Egyptian Ruins at Luxor, 1955

Stereographic slides create 3-dimensional images, by projecting two images taken at slightly differently angles. This is achieved by a camera that is capable of taking two pictures simultaneously. The Schmitt collection has several boxes of these, documenting locations and events during the 1955 expedition across Africa. My only experience with this format was with commercially available slides showing tourist sites like the Grand Canyon and Yellowstone National Park.

Having never seen stereographic images outside the souvenir realm, I did some research, and was surprised to find that these images are not uncommon in archival collections. Additionally, I learned that stereographic photography still occurs. There are clubs across the country; some still using traditional film cameras, though digital is becoming more common. There are online instructions for turning these images in to 3-dimensional digital anaglyphs. When I went to Smithsonian’s online catalog SIRIS, I found several stereographic images were digitized. Unfortunately, they require a special viewer to see in their 3-dimensional glory. As 3-D has proven increasingly applicable and popular, I thought I would try combining the images shown above into anaglyphs, so that readers could see a new side to Africa in the 1950’s. If you have 3-D glasses lying around, now is the time to pull them out.

Viewer simulation of stereographic image #SIA2012-0404

Viewer simulation of stereographic image #SIA2012-0403

Viewer simulation of stereographic image #SIA2012-0405

Specimen Collecting with Franklin D. Roosevelt

By Lesley Parilla, Field Book Project 

 

 

Franklin D. Roosevelt aboard the USS Houston, during the Presidential Cruise, 1938

Field notes come in interesting forms – one of the more curious collecting documentation I have found comes from Expeditions with US Navy participation. Naval vessels have daily bulletins or “plans of the day” issued. They include a wide variety of information: uniform of the day, ship-wide schedules, and information about VIP’s or important events. When at sea, they additionally include information about life beyond the ship – current events, sports scores, stock reports. One can imagine that before the internet, this might be the only information sailors received about home beyond letters from family and friends. These bulletins also provided levity for the crew, including stories or jokes. The materials I cataloged from the Tanager Expedition (1923) discussed in the blog “The Dangers of Bunny Rabbits” includes this type of document.

 

 
 
 
 

A Plan of the Day during the Presidential Cruise, 1938.

 

 

 
USS Houston, taken during the Presidential Cruise [USS Houston (CA-30) sunk by gunfire and torpedoes of Japanese warships in Sunda Strait, Netherlands East Indies, 1 March 1942]

The most recent expedition to include these was the Presidential Cruise of 1938 aboard USS Houston. This highly unusual “expedition” was a fishing cruise taken by Franklin D. Roosevelt to the waters off the coast of Central and South America. Roosevelt extended an invitation to the Smithsonian to send scientific staff along with the cruise to collect a variety of specimens, and ended up including fish, crustaceans, sponges, and botanical specimens. Several new species were discovered, including a new type of palm tree from the island pictured below, the palm tree (Siriella roosevelti) named for the President. Some of the specimen cards can be found on SIRIS for several departments of National Museum of Natural History.

        
Participants collecting specimens on Coco Island, Costa Rica, 1938

This cruise is a fascinating mixture of social and scientific efforts. Schmitt saved the ship bulletins as well as the attending press releases given out during the voyage. One can determine not just what time of day and where the president and guests were fishing, but also current political events, and naval social traditions practiced by the crew and guests. While on the cruise, they honored a longtime tradition of the Shellback ceremony, commemorating the crossing of the Equator. This ceremony still goes on in various forms, and provides humor and comradery in ship life that is often highly regimented and routine.

 
The Shellback Ceremony commemorating crew members’ first-time crossing of the Equator, during the Presidential Cruise, 1938

References

Department of the Navy -- Naval History and Heritage Command. (2004). “Casualties: U.S. Navy And Coast Guard Vessels, Sunk Or Damaged Beyond Repair During World War Iist, 7 December 1941-1 October 1945” Accessed on Http://Www.History.Navy.Mil/Faqs/Faq82-1.Htm

 

Last Words from a Botanist

By Sonoe Nakasone, Field Book Project

Handwritten English translation of two pages containing the last entry of Kreutzfeldt's journal, June 18 to October 23, 1853, from Smithsonian Instiution Archives (SIA) Record Unit number 7157.  This journal is the only item in Kreutzfeldt’s collection.   SIA2011-2257 and SIA2011-2258. 

 

Frederick Kreutzfeldt woke the morning of October 24, 1853 shivering with cold to write:

We continue the Captain’s favorite project and reach at noon the Sevier R. [Sevier River] rolling quietly on between deep banks in a pretty wide valley.  Though very good grass, now dry is growing here, some buffalo berries and willow-bushes, yet of trees no trace. […]  Tomorrow P.K. Band escorte have to go down the river to look at the Sevier lake and other curiosities. 

Kreutzfeldt’s sarcasm is hard to detect, but his feelings toward Captain John W. Gunnison’s “favorite project” of exploring the Sevier River were less than favorable.  Kreutzfeldt accompanied the Survey of the Northwest Boundary along the 38th and 39th Parallels, 1853 as a Botanist with previous expedition experience and quickly came to feel that Gunnison was an incompetent leader.  Kruetzfeld’s worries were not unfounded: he would die two days later, October 26, 1853, in the Gunnison Massacre. 

The entry above may have been Kreutzfeldt’s last.  Previous entries further illustrate his concerns regarding the Survey.  Yet despite his misgivings about the journey, Kreutzfeldt manages to create a profile of the flora and fauna of the regions he travelled by sprinkling detailed descriptions of natural life between his criticisms.

 On October 2^nd, Kreutzfeldt scoffs, “Though Sunday, the Captain seems to turn a free-thinker and continues our journey”, but follows this remark with a vivid depiction of the trail:

We follow the Span trail leading through broken mountains, sandy plains, beds of rivulets and square sand-stones until in the evening we find good fresh water running or trickling from out of the sandstones […].  In the low grounds of the creek are now and then found Helianthus, Ruellia, Castelliego and Oenothera, on the sand-hills: Statice, Eriogonum inflatum, Art Lenosyrus and Opuntia.  On the willows, clematis viticella is climbing, also glycyrrhiza. 

The next day he despairs that “it is no easy matter to understand our at random travelling in a unknown desert and misery to all of us appears very probable” [my bolding], yet records the presence of “Juniper, Art. Lenosyrus, Syringa, Patent, fructicos, with a white flower, Oenothera, Heliotrope, Fremontia and Opunt [sic]”.

October 20^th: Gunnison brings three guides to camp.  Their stories foreshadow events that will occur six days later:

They tell of bloody conflicts with the Indians having murdered 6 of their men and 200 cattle carried away. 

The grim account is strangely juxtaposed with this calm, almost peaceful account of the land:

The bottom land of the river is sometimes pretty broad and must give good pasture at the favorable season. The hilly country is also much better and would produce good corn if it could be enlivened by water conducts. Now only cedar, safe, juniper, mixed with Op.  fragilis and cereus coccineus are growing.  Of reptiles only now and then a lizard is to be seen, of birds: rave, field larks, snow birds, sparrows and sometimes a mag pie. 

On October 24^th, second in command Lieutenant Beckwith led the main party northeast, and Gunnison remained with Kreutzfeldt and five others to explore the Sevier River.  On the morning of October 26th, they were killed by gun and arrow fire from the Paiutes.    

Although Kreutzfeldt’s journey was cut short, the journal he left behind is a valuable contribution both as a historic primary resource of the Survey and as a historical snapshot of the flora and fauna of the area he explored.

Resources:

National Park Service. “Pacific Railroad Surveys”. http://www.nps.gov/history/history/online_books/shubert/chap6.htm (accessed August 11, 2011)

 

I want to be an Ornithologist when I Grow Up, Alexander Wetmore's childhood field books

By Lesley Parilla, Field Book Project

 
 
Jim Seely, Alexander Wetmore, Clarence Cook, and Art Rudy in North Freedom, Wisconsin, February 22, 1902

Alexander Wetmore’s collection (Smithsonian Institution Archives Record Unit 7006) was one of the first I cataloged for the Field Book Registry, and by far the largest. His collection is unusual in a number of ways, and from the very beginning I knew it was going to be interesting. You see, Wetmore began keeping field books at age eight.

The first field book is quite simple in structure, and has limited detail. The contents is much what one might expect from an eight year old, including sketches of dogs, squirrels fishing, short plays, and notes about a fishing trip to Florida. However, Wetmore quickly became habitual in recording his observations. The next set of field books document his observations of nature during ages 12-16. These took me by surprise.

In just a few years, his notes start to include detailed counts of sometimes more than 30 types of birds. By age 14, his writing fills the last edge of the last page of the notebooks. Halfway through the field books I had to double-check his age when I discovered the detailed indexes that corresponded with the hand-numbered pages carefully sewn into the front or back of each notebook.

As I surveyed these notebooks, invariably my mind slipped to my friends’ children, many of whom are near the same age. I was amazed at the quick evolution of Wetmore’s work, seeing his personality and his approach to the world become so definite. I have watched my friends’ and family’s children over the years as they discover the world around them and how they want to interact with it. I struggled to imagine working with a child like Wetmore, who at such a young age had such a clear idea of what he wanted to do and how to do it.

This, for me, is why Wetmore’s collection is a great example of why item-level cataloging is such an important part of the Field Book Project. The collection level description in the finding aid lets a researcher know the childhood field books are present. It doesn’t provide details about organization of the material or what kind of data he collected in his observations. 

The Field Book Project captures information that allows researchers to have a clear picture of the item, hopefully even its nuances. By including details about the types of characteristics Wetmore recorded, and how he chose to organize that information, the researcher can see and appreciate the evolving style and work of the child/man-yet-to-be. These types of details are often ones that only people (like our wonderful reference staff) know after working with the collections for years -- details that are now available in the form of item-level abstracts for experienced researchers and the momentarily curious alike.

Coiba Island: Penal Colony to National Park

 

Unidentified individuals and members of A. Wetmore’s scientific expedition with bird specimens at María, Coiba Island, 1956.

By Lesley Parilla, Field Book Project

After cataloging the majority of correspondence and written materials documenting Alexander Wetmore’s collecting efforts, cataloging his photo albums feels a bit like a reunion. I see images of people and places whose names I have read over the weeks. Wetmore was from all appearances a very personable individual; the photo albums reinforce this feeling documenting scientific efforts and friendships with colleagues, staff and acquaintances. Toward the end of Wetmore’s tenure as Secretary of the Smithsonian, he began traveling to Panama to study the native birds. These visits became an annual tradition, continuing after his time as Secretary, when he became a Research Associate. His work culminated in the book The Birds of the Republic of Panamá.



This pasture, where animals can be seen grazing, is in Catival on Coiba Island, Panama. Secretary Alexander Wetmore while on a scientific expedition in Panama to Coiba Island, while completing field work for his four volume work, The Birds of Panama. 

 

A police officer goes ashore pickaback, Coiba Island, 1956

In 1956, Wetmore went to Coiba Island in the gulf of Chiriqui to study native birds.  Coiba Island was the site of a penal colony established in 1919. When Panama’s political climate shifted during the military regimes of 1968-1989, the penal colony earned notoriety as a place of political repression and violence.

 

Guard house and cell-block, la Central, Coiba Island, 1956

 It is striking to see a place documented before such infamy. The photographs conjure a mix of emotions. During the course of Wetmore’s visit, he depicts aspects of daily life -- arrival of new prisoners, immaculately kept grounds, daily role-calls-- as well as vegetation, cultivated land, and the birds that live there. Coiba Island’s isolated nature and limited development made it a good collecting location during Wetmore’s time and in the present. After its closure in 2004, interested parties began to push for the establishment of a national park on the site, which occurred later that year. A year later, United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO) selected Coiba National Park as a World Heritage Site.  

Smithsonian's connection with the area continues to the present.  Smithsonian Troprical Research Institute (STRI) staff have worked with,  UNESCO, the United Nations Foundation and Conservation International and efforts of Smithsonian staff, helping advise outreach and resource management for the national park.

More images? "See Here" and here on The Bigger Picture

References

Smithsonian Newsdesk. (2009). “Putting Smithsonian Science to Work: A New Plan for Panama’s Coiba National Park and World Heritage Site”. Retrieved August 31, 2011 from http://newsdesk.si.edu/releases/putting-smithsonian-science-work-new-plan-panama-s-coiba-national-park-and-world-heritage-s

 Smithsonian Institution, National Museum of Natural History. (2011). Celebrating 100 Years: The Birds of Panama: Alexander Wetmore and Watson Perrygo in Panama, 1940s-1960s”. Retrieved August 31, 2011 from http://www.mnh.si.edu/onehundredyears/expeditions/birdsPanama.html

 United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization .(2011).“Coiba National Park and its Special Zone of Marine Protection”. Retrieved August 31, 2011 from http://whc.unesco.org/en/list/1138

 

Field Notes from a Battle Against Extinction

By Sonoe Nakasone, Field Book Project

 

As a resident of DC since 2003, I’m familiar with this city’s love affair with Giant Pandas. What I didn’t know until recently is that this Panda obsession is largely thanks to revolutionary research on Panda biology and reproduction conducted by Dr. Devra Kleiman, the National Zoological Park (NZP) conservation zoologist who died last year. Embarrassingly, I didn’t recognize the name Devra Kleiman when archivist Jennifer Wright, author of this 2010 article about Kleiman’s personal papers (Smithsonian Institution Archives, Acc. 11-124), alerted me to Kleiman’s field books.

Most of Kleiman’s field notes focus on golden lion tamarins (GLT) and other tamarins, documenting every aspect of their lives, especially reproduction. Kleiman and her colleagues hoped to reverse the tamarins’ spiraling decent towards extinction. It was estimated fewer than 200 GLT existed when she began her mission*.

The major difference between Kleiman’s field notes and most other field notes I’ve cataloged is Kleiman didn’t really “collect specimens”. Rather, her notes document animal behavior, activities, diet, as well as external factors affecting the livelihood of tamarins. Kleiman and her team did collect blood, skin, and fur samples, and they did capture tamarins to breed in captivity before reintroducing them into the wild, yet the fundamental purpose and method of research was distinct from traditional natural history field work.

Devra Kleiman and colleague conducting playback study.

I don’t pretend to understand the techniques used to research Tamarins, but I noticed three common protocols described throughout Kleiman’s field notes: scans, focals, and playbacks. Scans and focals are systematic observations. Scans focus on all member of a group of animals; focals focus on an individual animal. Both adhere to specific lengths of time and seek specific information about behavior and activities. Playbacks involved projecting recordings of various animal vocalizations in the field. During these experiments, animal responses, if any, were documented and differences between male and female responses noted.

Sometimes field notes about tamarin behavior are anecdotal. One entry describes Vera, a GLT who hunts a frog by shaking and tugging at roots until she pulls it out of the ground. Another describes a step-by-step tango between an aggressive GLT, Rita, and a nervous Kleiman as each advances and retreats from the other by turns.

Although our project focuses on biological data, it was impossible to ignore notes about meetings, events, and activities relating to Kleiman’s conservation program that were interspersed between field notes. These notes provided interesting insight into the challenges Kleiman and her colleagues faced—challenges like apathy and politics. On October 25, 1991, Kleiman remembers a particularly difficult visit to a corporation: “the veep [VP] we meet is very obnoxious—suggesting that people are burned out [with] ecology (mentions a t-shirt entitled “I don’t give a s--- about the GLT)”. On March 16, 1990, Kleiman notes the effects of economic instability in Brazil on the project: “they are freezing all interest-bearing overnight accounts [...]. Cecilia [Kleiman’s colleague] had $6000 WWF grant in an overnight account. It increased by $1000 interest, but now she can’t touch it.”

Despite apathy, political instability, and other issues like poaching and deforestation, Kleiman was successful at shedding light on the issue of golden lion tamarins and helping to increase the GLT population by 800%. There are currently an estimated 1,600 wild GLT in Brazil*.

Kleiman’s field books are a refreshing and exhilarating alternative to many of her predecessor’s field books because she was a pioneer in the burgeoning field of conservation biology. Her notes reflect not only the advancement of human knowledge, but also the application of that knowledge to ensure the livelihood of species struggling for survival.

Learn about Kleiman’s electronic records here

* National Zoological Park. http://nationalzoo.si.edu/SCBI/EndangeredSpecies/GLTProgram/default.cfm (accessed August 11, 2011)

Joseph F. Rock, 1884 - 1962

By Katie Fenster, Department of Botany Intern

Photograph of Joseph F. Rock

Joseph Francis Rock was an Austrian-born U.S. citizen who spent most of his career in Asia.  For my summer internship with the Department of Botany at the National Museum of Natural History, I’ve been researching the lives of botanists whose collections are housed at the museum.  For my research I’ve consulted journals, online sources, and other materials to investigate the lives of scientists whose public renown is often meager in comparison with the value of their work.  Luckily enough for me, the original field books of some of these researchers, including Rock, are housed here in the museum’s collections.  These field books provide primary source information about the botanists, so that even though they did not have celebrity-style publicity, I can learn about their lives.

Rock moved to the United States in his early 20s, becoming a professor of botany at the College of Hawaii in 1911 at the age of 27.  Though Rock had a half-decade worth of experience studying Hawaiian flora before this appointment, he did not possess a graduate degree. 

Rock’s largely self-learned expertise on Hawaiian flora served him well.  In1919, he was selected by the USDA to botanize in South East Asia.  He worked for the USDA until 1924, and then for the next twenty-six years, Rock traveled throughout Asia, working for various U.S. institutions including Harvard University and National Geographic.  His research was in the fields of botany and anthropology.  

The Smithsonian National Museum of Natural History now houses Rock’s field books from his time in South East Asia working for the USDA.  These field books reveal Rock’s progression in knowledge as he became more familiar with the local flora.  The notations accompanying plant numbers of his earliest collections begin with vague descriptors including “tree,” and “shrub.”  Despite the lack of specific classification names, as I read Rock’s detailed note on each plant, I could easily imagine the flora.  For example, when describing plant 8755, he notes “alpine plants forming nests [of] tubular flowers [that are] purplish blue to reddish lavender [and are] covering up mossy boulders in [the] alpine region of Lila.” Even as Rock learned to identify genera of his subjects, Rock maintained his meticulous note-taking. Rock used colorful metaphors in his 1920 journal, describing a species of castanopsis as “a leguminous shrub [that is] densely pubescent with seed pods erect on the upper surface of the branches.”

Included with the pages of this journal is a beautiful, detailed map of a river that his crew explored.  This map incorporates camp locations, dates, scenery that Rock photographed and, a local myth about the red cliff at Pa Wing Choo.  The story goes that Princess Rata and her lover were escaping from her disapproving father via horseback when they tumbled to their death off the legendary cliffs.

Page 3 of a 9-page hand-drawn map detailing Joseph Rock's route.	Page 6 of a 9-page hand-drawn map detailing Joseph Rock's route.

I had a blast exploring Rock’s field books, and I think the coolest part about them is that, though they were written almost 100 years ago, the data within them is still relevant today.  For instance, some of Rock’s photographs document indigenous peoples prior to assimilation and provide insight into their cultures at a specific point in time.  Additionally, his plant specimens and plant descriptions can be compared to similar specimens collected today, to research species variation and change over time.  In these ways, Rock’s research and the research of many other botanists and anthropologists remain timeless.

Bibliography

Chock, Alvin K. “Joseph F. Rock 1884-1062.” Taxon 12 (April 1963):89-100.

Hunt Institute for Botanical Documentation. “Joseph Frances Charles Rock (1884-1962).” http://huntbot.andrew.cmu.edu/HIBD/Departments/Archives/Archives-HR/Rock.shtml

Rock, Joseph F. Field Notes, National Herbarium Botany Library (1920-1924).

Wagner, Jeffrey. “The Botanical Legacy of Joseph Rock.” Arnold Arboretum, n.d. http://arnoldia.arboretum.harvard.edu/pdf/articles/860.pdf

 

Life in the Field: a Reflection on Cataloging Field Notes in the Pacific Ocean Biological Survey Program

By Emily Hunter, Cataloging Intern

 

Allen Anderson and Allen Young hold up a Black-footed Albatross.

My introduction to field notes came five short weeks ago, when I started my work as Cataloging Intern for the Field Book Project. I began by cataloging the field notes in the Pacific Ocean Biological Survey Program in the rather large Smithsonian Institution Archives collection Record Unit 245.

The Pacific Ocean Biological Survey Program (or POBSP for short), was a Department of Defense grant-funded project led by the Smithsonian Institution to survey plants and animals in an area of the Pacific Ocean dotted with islands and atolls. Much of the project focused on observing and banding pelagic birds.

Working through the loose manuscripts containing the field notes of Smithsonian Institution staff researchers, I began to imagine what life in the field was like. As a budding librarian and archivist, I allowed the records themselves to begin to build the story for me. As I cataloged each item (“items” ranged from a single field book to a folder of manuscripts or photographs) I skimmed, stopping here or there to read full entries and connect the dots. Reading the field notes of over 40 researchers allowed me a window into the daily lives of the researchers, and a taste of the diversity of personalities of the project staff.

From their narrative journal entries to their to-do lists and poetic observations, the researchers came alive as real people doing similar work, but with different outlooks, experiences, and perspectives. Minor differences of opinion made me laugh now and then, for example, while some researchers captured the elegance of birds in pencil sketches, another declared, “this is the ugliest bird I have ever seen!”

 

Kenneth C. Balcomb banding a young Black-footed albatross on Laysan Island, June 12, 1966.

I began to understand what life in the field in the 1960s was like. Or I like to think so. That’s the beauty of reading primary sources—feeling like you’re in someone else’s shoes.

Surely it isn’t so difficult to relate to these young men—at the time of the survey they were roughly my age, camping on Pacific islands I could only dream of, covered in bird droppings (several field books were plastered with the hard evidence), camping, sweltering in the sun, or spending sleepless, sometimes nauseating, nights at sea. They observed birds at all hours, banded them, collected specimen, and explored burrows looking for eggs, and chicks.

An entry by Patrick Gould, October 1966, was so poetic and descriptive, that I couldn’t help but feel I was on Laysan Island myself:

 

A large donut lying on its side in the Blue Pacific. It’s edge a broad belt of off-white coral sand, its rim a bright Scaevola green, low and lush greeting abruptly to sand and clumps of bunch grass, to bunch grass and narrow dense covering of Spomoea, to a brackish lagoon. Blue sky, pock-marked with out of focus white clouds, dotted with black Great Frigatebirds, white Red-tailed Tropicbirds and black and white Red-footed and Blue-faced Boobies. In the evening the air is filled with the [calls] of Wedge-tailed Shearwater and Bonin Island Petrel. Black and Common Noddy Terns are everywhere.

(Entry in the field book of Patrick J. Gould Leewards Survey 17, Pacific Ocean Biological Survey Program, Laysan Island, October 1966) 

 

Larry Huber photographs Noddy tern on East Island, French Frigate Shoals, as part of the Pacific Ocean Biological Survey Program, August 9, 1965.

Cataloging field notes is challenging and rewarding. I’ve learned a great deal in my attempts to read messy handwriting, decipher cryptic symbols and notations. I’ve experienced several minor “Aha!” moments, one of which was when I realized that “RT” means Ruddy turnstone while “RTTB” means Red-tailed tropicbird. As a non-expert, it was interesting to read observations of bird behaviors, roosting patterns, or nest construction. More than anything though, I liked getting a glimpse of what life was like for these researchers, doing what they love—alternately exciting, boring, hot, serene, difficult, or extremely beautiful—out in the field.

Mammalogy at the Intersection of Mercy and Truth

By Jenny Mathias, Cataloging Intern, Field Book Project

 

One of the first collections I cataloged for the Field Book Project was the notebooks of mammalogist Vernon Orlando Bailey, Smithsonian Institution Archives Record Unit 7267.    At the time I encountered Bailey’s notebooks, field books were new to me as a genre of archival material and it was through the Bailey field books that I first experienced the pleasure of reading someone else’s field notes.  Bailey proved an excellent travel guide and his field books introduced me to just how much fun these guys and gals have while collecting specimens all over the world, and how much contemplation and observation takes place out in the field.   The Bailey field notes introduced me to the concept of Life Zones, popularized in the late 19^th and early 20^th century by Bailey’s mentor, collecting companion, and eventual brother-in-law C. Hart Merriam.   While Bailey’s specimen lists were at first difficult to decipher, his sparse, and insightful narrative passages and poetic ponderings gave me my first clues to what it was he was doing in the field.  

 

 

Dipodops or kangaroo rats, which Bailey refers to in one of his poems and drawings, were a life-long subject of his research for the USDA’s Bureau of Biological Survey, as were coyotes and wolves.  Collecting animal specimens for study and for display often requires trapping them.   In his notes, he points out that this can cause immense and often unnecessary suffering on the part of the animal in question.   He negotiated the tricky position faced by many biodiversity researchers – one where compassion, even love, for the animals studied meets the understanding that these animals are often harmed in the course of our study of them.  Bailey also clearly knew that animals, particularly predators like coyotes and wolves and ‘pests’ like rodents, would inevitably be killed by humans in order to protect livestock and crops. 

 

 

He wrote articles on the subject for scholarly and popular audiences. Manuscripts of some of these articles are also available as a part of Record Unit 7262.  One particular favorite of mine is the annotated manuscript was originally titled “Bobbity and Bitty: The long and solitary lives of two little Pocket Mice”.  In it, Bailey describes the collection and observation of two Perognathus pacificus using humane traps. The little pocket mice he named Bobbity and Bitty were from the coastal sand dunes of southern California and he chronicles their behavior both in their natural habitat and within the human–made world of Bailey’s own family and friends. 

 

 
Bailey devoted himself to the design and manufacture of more humane traps and the education of the public on how to use these traps in order to control and study animal populations.  At his funeral in April  1942, Reverend John Van Schaick quoted from the Eighty-fifth Psalm: “Mercy and truth have met together.” (Zahnsiser, 1942, p. 6).   Bailey strove for both truth in the form of scientific research and mercy in the form of compassion for his wild subjects.  He consistently advocated for the simultaneous rights of humans to study the creatures of the natural world and for the rights of these wild animals to be treated with the dignity they deserve. 

 

Zahniser, H. (January 01, 1942). Vernon Orlando Bailey 1864-1942. Science (New York, N.Y.), 96, 2479, 6-7.

Sailing the Seas with Allan Bé

By Sonoe Nakasone, Field Book Project

Plankton identification chart, Vema cruise 27.

Data sheet with circular time-depth recorder.

What would it be like to sail around the world?  To spend endless days unable to see anything ahead but more ocean before the horizon?  While cataloging the field notes of Allan Bé, a marine biologist, these questions often arose.  Because his collection consisted mostly of data sheets and very few narrative notes, however, I used available information to fill gaps in both the catalog record and my imagination.      

 

Specimen label from Eltanin cruise 26.

Allan Bé spent much of his career at the Lamont-Dougherty Earth Observatory and was a pioneer in the study of environmental factors affecting foraminifera plankton.  Bé’s collection (Smithsonian Institution Archives Acc. 09-008) contains mostly data sheets created by Bé or his colleagues and completed for each haul of plankton samples during their cruises.

Each sheet records several types of information including “surface temperature”, “water salinity”, “weather”, “depth”, and much more.  This rich data not only helps biologists to understand the environment in which the plankton live, but also can inform research into historic weather patterns. 

Each data sheet also contains coordinates, lacking in most other field books I encounter.  This posed a cataloging challenge as did the marine environment in which Bé collected.  For example, 30° n 60° w drops you somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean—but where exactly?  Saying “Atlantic Ocean” is like saying “North America”.  It helps, but it’s too broad to be of great use.  One obvious solution was to specify North or South for the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans. 

 

 

Another solution I eventually adopted was to include a “summary of route”, providing dynamic information about the ship’s positions throughout the cruise without tediously including coordinates.   This approach took little effort.  As coordinates became familiar, I could tell at a glance that 30° s 12° e, for example, was in the South Atlantic near South Africa.  Example of a route summary:  

From the North Pacific Ocean (approximately 41°n 173°w), west into the Gulf of Alaska, then south into the South Pacific Ocean off coast of Ecuador. 

 One exciting aspect of this collection was seeing the exotic waters Bé or his colleagues sailed through, especially near South East Asia.  I was careful with coordinates in this region because just 5° could be the difference between the Banda Sea and the Arafura Sea.  More enjoyable was when photographs of tropical beaches popped up during searches in Google Maps.  Try it yourself.  Search 0° n 129° e in Google Maps.

 

 I would shiver when their research took them to the colder waters of the Southern Ocean near Argentina and Antarctica.  In one field book, the extreme cold of this region is playfully reflected in a drawing on a plotting chart of the area near the Falklands.  The chart depicts their vessel, the Eltanin, mounting a large iceberg and a sea god blowing wind with a frosty breath.

It’s difficult to see at first and relate in a bibliographic record how rich and full of life these log books are.  Looking closely at the data, however, an entire world of scientific research adventures on the high seas was exposed.  By cataloging these items and highlighting aspects of seemingly plain data, users will have greater access to and better understanding of these materials.

 

                                                                      

When Are Drawings Field Notes?

 By Lesley Parilla, Field Book Project

I recently cataloged items from Smithsonian Archives RU 7186, United States Exploring Expedition Collection, 1838-1885, and came across a series of wonderful hand-drawn and hand-colored images.  Collections I cataloged before this were visually documented with photographs or quick sketches in the midst of field notes. The drawings in RU 7186 are a separate series and have dramatically varying amounts of information.  Some are covered in notes and are rough sketches; others are highly detailed and do not even have a signature.  Initially, I was unsure how to conclusively judge:

 

·         Were the drawings created during or after the expedition?

·         Were they illustrations of specific specimens or were these images a combination of several observed fish specimens?  

 

 After studying the images and speaking to Archive staff, I came up with a list of questions and additionally learned what made some of these images so important.

  

 

1.     Is there a date? Location? Specimen number?

 

Some images were easy to judge; this is a drawing of a specimen, created in the field.  The following looks a lot like the sketches found in field notes.  It includes a date, location, specimen number, and signature.  The note at the bottom states that the skin of the fish depicted has been preserved.

 

 

 

2.       How “finished” is the image?   

If a sketch is not highly detailed, it was probably made in the field in preparation for a more detailed illustration after the return home. 

  

 

 

Below is a sketch by John Richard originally for publication.

 

 

 

3.     Can you judge the time period based on the artist?  

 

The first drawings above are signed by Joseph Drayton, who worked during the expedition.  The drawing below might be similar to some that were created during the Expedition, but was created by John Richard who was hired after it returned.   

 

 

4.     What can you learn from the notes? 

The image below confused me at first because of how detailed it is.  However, upon reading the notes, I realized this was created from a recently dead specimen.  I learned that colored drawings were an important tool during an expedition, because it might be the only way a researcher would know what a specimen looked like alive. Shortly after preservation, specimens lose their colors.  

 

Some drawings will include notes about colors comparing them to something most people would know.  Another drawing includes the note “colour exactly like the glorious bloom appearance of the fruit of a plum” [Joseph Drayton, illustrator for the United States Exploring Expedition, 1838-1842].

 

 

Note below “Caught with a hook [in] Columbia River at Vancouver.  The neck streak appears bright only while living.  The dark streaks are not bright or plain seeming life.”

 

 

5.     How much of the image is complete?

There are several of these images in the collection.  A specimen may have the same coloring and pattern throughout the entire body.  To save time on a collecting trip, the entire specimen depicted is outlined, but only a portion is detailed or colored; this allows the artist to record just enough information about the specimen’s appearance to create a detailed illustration later.

 

 

  

 

Until working with these images and talking to staff, I had not realized how much information about a specimen was lost simply through death and preservation.  Colors dim and textures change. We catalog the field books to create a tie to information about a specimen’s environment, behavior, and appearance at the time of collecting.  Just like our textual field books, these images provide important details about specimens, augmenting information about some of the oldest in natural history collections.  Try downloading the Download USEE_7186 of the images above.  What details can you find?

 

 

 

 

 

The Dangers of Bunny Rabbits

By Lesley Parilla, Field Book Project

  
Laysan Island before the introduction of rabbits, 1902

 
Laysan Island (after the introduction of the rabbits), 1923

 

 

I recently cataloged the field notes of Alexander Wetmore, an ornithologist and the sixth Secretary of the Smithsonian Institution.  His field notes are part of Smithsonian Institution Archives collection RU7006.  They are particularly enjoyable because of well documented research efforts, and (thank you Alexander Wetmore) legible handwriting.  The latest find is the Tanager expedition of 1923, a joint project of the U.S. Navy, Bernice Pauahi Bishop Museum, and U.S. Department Agriculture (USDA), Bureau of Biological Survey.  The Naval Vessel USS Tanager provided transport for scientists who studied wildlife and vegetation in the Hawaiian and Wake Islands.  The expedition is documented in more than 10 folders of correspondence, photographs, memoranda, field notes, journals, reports, articles, personnel lists, supply requests and memorabilia. 

The islands visited during this expedition are northwest portion of the Hawaiian island chain.  They are low-slung, often barely above sea-level, and important destinations for birds of the Pacific.  While working my way through the materials I found references to two islands that caught my eye, Laysan and Johnston Island.

The stories of Laysan and Johnston Islands (for the purposes of this blog) begin with the presence of so many birds on such small islands.  The repeated visits meant a substantial concentration of guano, bird excrement, dried and bleached by the sun, leaving behind material high in phosphates and ammonia, that could be used as fertilizer.  In the nineteenth to early twentieth century companies would send out personnel to collect and process the material.

Johnston Island and Laysan Island were both sites where guano was commercially extracted.  Unfortunately both islands suffered for this attention, which left them in sad condition by 1923, as documented in expedition photographs.  Johnston Island became a popular destination for feather poachers, which dramatically decreased the population of birds. Donald Dickey, the expedition photographer, took images of the buildings and equipment poachers left behind. 

 

 

 

 

 

Structures previously used by feather poachers, 1923

Laysan Island’s fate was a bit more extreme.  I found the full extent of the story in an article Wetmore wrote and was partially published by the National Geographic Magazine. In 1902 the foreman of the guano processing center brought a few rabbits to the island for food and as a distraction for his children.  The three rabbits multiplied (as rabbits will), but the population was kept in check until the guano industry left.  Without humans, numbers soared.  By 1913, the population was out of control.  The Biological Survey attempted to eradicate them, killing several thousand, but was unable to complete the work at the time.  As Wetmore stated in the article, a world war and other events prevented monitoring of the island.  By the expedition’s visit in 1923, the island was in terrible condition.  Scant vegetation was left, and the surviving wildlife was struggling.  Donald Dickey’s Journal described how a lack of vegetation allowed any substantial wind to make life unbearable from blowing sand.  The Biological Survey sent staff with the expedition to complete the removal, which took more than a month to complete.

 

 

 
 
Members of the Tanager Expedition, 1923

 

The islands were characteristic of damage documented throughout the expedition; rabbits had been introduced to several of the islands.  Luckily, this story does have a happy ending.  As part of the Tanager expedition, Wetmore was assessing the islands' potential as a possible bird refuge.  Johnston Island gained this status in 1926.  In 2009, both islands became part of the newly established Pacific Remote Islands Marine National Monument.

 

 

Alexander Wetmore Series

By Lesley Parilla, Field Book Project

Members of the Tanager Expedition with Alexander Wetmore in 1923

 
   

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Some of the first materials I cataloged for the Field Book Project were created by Alexander Wetmore (1886-1978) from the Smithsonian Institution Archives collection RU 7006.  He was an ornithologist and sixth Secretary of the Smithsonian – a major figure in the Institution’s history with a collection spanning over a century.  Wetmore’s materials are unusual in that his field books start at age 8 and continue through to his retirement.  Cataloging a person’s life work gave me a strong sense of his personality.  His early field books constantly amazed me with the childlike quality alongside their detail and consistency.  His style of recording observations crystallized quickly, including consistently detailed narratives about collecting sites, terrain, bird songs.  These were followed by lists of specimens and related information, and remained organized and precise throughout his life.  Many of the early books are indexed.

Assistant to Alexander Wetmore, demonstrating "duck bomb" deterant, to prevent migratory birds from eating rice crops in the Southwest United States, c. 1918

His career covered a lot of territory; his best known work was on the birds of Panama, but his collection also covers South America, the Hawaiian Islands, and western United States.  In many cases his correspondence, diaries, and photographs were my introduction to these places as collecting sites.  For this reason, over the next few months, there will be a series of  blogs highlighting excerpts from this extensive collection.  So stay tuned and join us for rampant rabbits, duck bombs, and much more.

 

 

Men Carrying a Cayuco to the Water, María, Coiba Island during Alexander Wetmore's collecting trip to Panama, 1956

  

The continuing saga of the Tonto Basin

By Janelle Winters, NMNH Department of Botany intern

While using J.W. Toumey’s field book to chronicle the botanical impacts of cattle ranching in the turn-of-the twentieth century Tonto Basin (see Toumey and the Tonto Basin), a question percolated in my mind. What happened in the Tonto since Toumey described its ecological devastation in 1892? Toumey’s field book and correspondence became a launching point for primary and secondary research into the long term impacts of ranching on botanical diversity. 

Recall from our earlier post that Toumey had left the Tonto in August of 1892, during the beginning of a long drought that would claim the lives of the majority of the cattle. After these massive die-offs, the federal government intervened. In 1898 President William McKinley began to reserve Basin lands, and President Theodore Roosevelt established the Tonto National Forest in 1905.

Forest Service Officers on an Inspection, Tonto National Forest, date unknown (Photo by U.S. Forest Service)	J.W. Toumey (L) with Gifford Pinchot (M) and Henry Graves (R), Yale School of Forestry, 1926 (Courtesy of the Forest History Society)

Gifford Pinchot – who would later become the first Chief of the Forest Service and a Pennsylvania Governor – visited the Tonto at the turn of the century. He set the stage for what would be a tepid stance on regulating cattle grazing in the west. According to modern scholar Adam Sowards, Pinchot’s effort to “please all Arizona interests – the farmers, the timber industry, and the ranchers” led him to declare that overgrazing – but not grazing itself – was damaging in forest ranges. The crux was that nobody determined what constituted overgrazing. So, cattle and sheep numbers in the Tonto continued to exceed carrying capacity of the land, and nonnative grasses and shrubs continued to replace native grasses.

Sowards explains that, later, when “Forest service policy reflected patriotism, not ecology” by allowing blatant overstocking to supply beef to WWI troops, this was “the final straw for the range.”  It was shortly later that Senior Forest Ranger Fred Croxen declared in a 1926 public speech that,

“White man, the most destructive of animals, brought his herds to a virgin range only fifty short years ago, and abused it in every way he could. We see the result today. Much of it is worthless, ruined beyond recovery, some will come back… but…all the oldtimers I talked with are very glad government supervision came at last, but it came too late -- let us do our part to save and improve what is left.” 

 Renowned ecologist Aldo Leopold, who was responsible for inspecting the Tonto National Forest in 1923, echoed this statement. He wrote simply that, “When the cattle came the grass went, fires diminished, and erosion began… they grazed it to death” (Leopold 1924).

Cattle ranching in the Tonto continues today, albeit on a smaller scale. The Taylor Grazing Act of 1934 officially ended the “open range” in the Tonto and throughout the West (Sowards 1998), but a number of the same homesteaders from the 1870s continue to operate the land (U.S. Forest Service). Many areas of the Tonto and other southern Arizona ranges still have grasslands reduced to dirt, streams eroded to arroyos, and invasive shrubs unchecked by fires (Sayre 1999).

A quick lesson in the ecological effects of ranching is helpful in understanding this prolonged devastation. Conservation biologists explain that overgrazing reduces dense grass root systems, which fosters erosion and lowers the water table. Lowered water tables prevent the roots of plants, like cottonwood, willows, and mesquite, from reaching the water necessary for survival (Witzeman 2002, Fleischner 1994, Leopold 1924).

Junipers (woody plants) encroaching on range land, Tonto National Forest, 1942 (Photo by U.S. Forest Service)	Range near Greenback Creek, close to Tonto Creek in the Tonto Basin, modern day (Photo by U.S. Forest Service, Wildlife/Range Management)

 

This has allowed exotic grasses and more woody plants to establish themselves in southern Arizona – just like Toumey and Leopold observed. As of 1996, lack of native grassland vegetation had been implicated in the fates of 70 of 116 animal species listed as threatened in the state of Arizona (Arizona State Game and Fish Department 1996, Witzeman 2002). Some public interest groups are currently campaigning to allow controlled fires – similar to those of the Apaches – in the Arizona borderlands (Gottfried 2009). They hope to restore the ecological balance that has eluded the Tonto region since settlers arrived with their cattle nearly a century and a half ago. 

 References:

1.    Toumey, J.W. Journal, Catalogs 1-809 Arizona (S.I. Library, 1892)
2.    Toumey, J.W. Correspondence to George Vasey (S.I. Archives, 1891-1892)
3.    Sowards A.M., “Reclamation, Ranching, and Reservation: Environmental, Cultural, and Governmental Rivalries in Transitional Arizona,” Journal of the Southwest Autumn 1998 40(3): 333-361.
4.    Croxen F.W., “History of Grazing on Tonto” Tonto Grazing Conference (Phoenix, Arizona) Nov. 4-5, 1926
5.    Leopold, A. “Forest Service Records: Inspection Records” Tonto National Forest 1923, 480-556. (University of Wisconsin Libraries)
6.  Leopold A, “Grass, brush, timber, and fire in Southern Arizona,” Journal of Forestry 1924 22: 1-10.
7.    Southwestern Regional Office files in Albuquerque, United States Federal Forest Service, Tonto NF Historical Photographs <http://www.fs.fed.us/r3/about/history/ton/index.htm>
8.    United States Department of Agriculture Forest Service, Tonto National Forest Overview (History) <http://www.fs.usda.gov>
9.   Sayre N., “The Cattle Boom in Southern Arizona: Towards a Critical Political Ecology,” Journal of the Southwest Summer 1999 41(2): 239-71.
10.  Witzeman B, “An educational tool about cattle grazing” The Cactus Wren-dition (Newsletter of the Maricopa Audobon Society)  Spring 2002 www.rangenet.org/directory/witzeman/tool/
11.    Fleischner T.L., “Costs of Livestock Grazing in Western North America,” Conservation Biology Sept. 1994 8(3): 629-644.
12.    Arizona Game and Fish Department, “Wildlife of Special Concern in Arizona,” March 16 1996 < http://www.azgfd.gov/pdfs/w_c/heritage/heritage_special_concern.pdf>
13.    Gottfried G.J., Allen L.S., Warren P.L., McDonald B., Bemis R.J., Edminster C.B., “Private-Public collaboration to reintroduce fire into the changing ecosystems of the southwestern borderlands region” Fire Ecology Special Issue 2009 5(1): 85-99.

 

 

Toumey and the Tonto Basin: A Tale of a Field Book, Ranching, and 19th Century Ecological Devastation

By Janelle Winters, NMNH Department of Botany intern

 
“When the cattle were driven in to the Tonto Basin the grass was everywhere…Today, riding through the basin for a distance of 50 miles, scarcely a single culm of grass can be seen. This almost complete annihilation of grasses in this region has occurred in less than half a score years. From these facts it must invariably follow that many of our best grasses will soon be unknown upon our southern ranges.”-J.W. Toumey, 1892

J.W. Toumey, a young graduate student acting as Special Agent for the Department of Agriculture, traversed the Arizona territory in the summer of 1892 with a small wagon team. He intended to survey the botany of different geographic regions of the territory, so he kept a careful expedition journal and plant catalog. His expedition was undoubtedly successful – it led to the deposit of more than 800 specimens in U.S. herbaria.  Perhaps most fascinating, however, is the window it opens onto turn of the 20^th century ranching in Arizona.

Over the last century, the field book containing Toumey’s journal, an original expedition map, correspondence between Toumey and Smithsonian botanists, and about a fifth of the plant specimens that Toumey collected in 1892 have found their way to the Smithsonian Institution. Together, they tell a dramatic story of post-Civil War land seizures, rampant speculation, overzealous faith in the “bounty of nature,” and the lasting botanical legacy that they left in Arizona. During my internship working with field books for the Arizona Project, I have had the unique opportunity to perform original research necessary to telling this exciting story. In doing so, I surprisingly learned a bit about my own family history in the Old West.

The Tonto Basin, a “watered oasis of the semi-desert” (Sowards 1998), lies above the Salt River and under the Mogollon Rim in south-central Arizona. Its mountains support mixed conifer forests, and are surrounded by grasslands. Toumey describes the Tonto landscape in his journal:

“The northern part is a series of small valleys drained by tributaries of the Verde River which break through the mountains to the left. The basin proper is drained by Tonto Creek which flows south to Salt River. This basin is naturally the best watered of any equal area in the Territory. Many springs flow from the mountains at either side and the Tonto creek is never dry. Arising from this abundant flow of water this region has come to be one of the most popular and exclusive ranges in the Territory.”

An original Arizona territory map from Toumey’s expedition, c. 1883. To view a full-size map, visit http://botany.si.edu/references/MapsCatalog/subject.cfm and search “Toumey”	Close-up of the same map, focusing on the Tonto Basin region. The red pen marks are in Toumey’s hand, and show his intended 1892 route.

Just thirty years before Toumey’s expedition the Apaches had thrived in the Tonto, where the ecological balance had been carefully maintained for centuries. Cattle numbers were naturally limited by their direct dependence on cycles of plant reproduction, and plant communities were regulated by semi-frequent fires which help maintain grasses and reduce encroachment of woody vegetation (Sayre 1999, Sowards 1998, Pearce 1981). After the Civil War, however, the Tonto became coveted by larger scale ranchers. By 1872, the U.S. cavalry had forced the last Apaches onto Indian Reservations, and white settlers – especially Mormons – were bringing their herds into the Basin (Sowards 1998, Pearce 1981). These incomers had very little experience with arid ecosystems, and were eager to ensure economic success by buying the most cattle that they could finance (Sayre 1999, Abruzzi 1995).

Cattle in the Tonto Basin, vicinity of Bishop Peak, date unknown. Bishop Peak was named in the 1870s for the author’s relative John F. Sanders Sr.

The resulting 700% increase in cattle over twenty years (1871-1891), which peaked at 1.5 million in the Tonto alone, surpassed the carrying capacity of the land at about exactly the time that Toumey visited the region. In the months after his visit, from late summer of 1892 to 1893, Arizona experienced a significant drought. This was the ecological breaking point for ranching; by the summer of 1893, lack of forage grasses left between one half and three fourths of the cattle dead (Bahre and Shelton 1996, Sowards 1998). 

Toumey predicts this catastrophic ranching future in the Tonto. He writes that,

“From reliable sources I hear that when cattle were driven into Tonto Basin the grass was everywhere… The cattle are now feeding upon bushes and weeds, which year after year must necessarily furnish less and less forage and this of a very poor quality. Under the present conditions, the few grasses, water seeds, perennials are tramped out or fail to survive the long droughts. ..I think that it is safe to say that our mature grasses, at present time, do not furnish one tenth of the range forage…Tonto basin however can no longer support the increasing thousands of horses and cattle.”

Specimen of Centarium calycosum collected by Toumey in the Tonto Basin on July 26, 1892 (From the U.S. National Herbarium, Smithsonian National Museum of Natural History)

He, therefore, gathered very few grass - but numerous shrub - species. Interestingly, many of the plants Toumey collected, including Asclepias subverticillata (whorled milkweed), Centarium calycosum (Arizona centaury), and Oenothera elata (Hooker’s evening primrose), are now known to be unpalatable or toxic to cattle (14-18). Rather than observing the gamma grass and cottonwood stands so prominent in the times of the early settlers (Sayre 1999, Croxen 1926), Toumey notes that the Quercus undulata (woody wayleaf oak) and other shrubs constitute the “few” forms of remaining vegetation.

Toumey’s journal entries, map, and specimens ultimately shed light on the struggling forces of the American Dream and the ecological resources that it required (and sometimes destroyed).   Further research into the lasting impacts of these forces will be the topic of an upcoming blog post -- stay tuned!

My immersion into the world of 19^th century Tonto Basin also led to an intriguing personal discovery; my great, great, great, great grandfather, John F. Sanders Sr., was one of the original Mormon ranchers that entered the Tonto in the 1870s. He had received a “call” from Brigham Young to colonize the area, which led to the establishment of the ranching town of Gisela. Some of my not so distant family members still ranch within its shrubby grasslands today.

The author’s great, great, great, great grandfather, John F. Sanders Sr. who founded Gisela and was a pioneer cattle rancher in the Tonto, before receiving a new Mormon “call” to move to Utah.	The author's great, great, great grandfather, John F. Sanders Jr.  followed in his father's footsteps and began to ranch in the upper Tonto during the 1880s.

 

References:

1. Toumey, J.W. Journal, Catalogs 1-809 Arizona (S.I. Library, 1892)
2. Graves H.S., “Obituary: James William Toumey” Science June 3 1932: 575-577.
3. Toumey, J.W. Correspondence to George Vasey (S.I. Archives, 1891-1892)
4. Toumey J.W. 1892 Expedition Map (S.I. Department of Botany, Map Collections, 1892)
5. Sowards A.M., “Reclamation, Ranching, and Reservation: Environmental, Cultural, and Governmental Rivalries in Transitional Arizona,” Journal of the Southwest Autumn 1998 40(3): 333-361.
6. Sayre N., “The Cattle Boom in Southern Arizona: Towards a Critical Political Ecology,” Journal of the Southwest Summer 1999 41(2): 239-71.
7. Pearce J, History of Gisela, Arizona: Centennial Edition 1881-1981, Jayne Pearce, Payson, 1981.
8. Abruzzi W.S., “The social and ecological consequences of early cattle ranching in the Little Colorado River Basin,” Human Ecology 1995 23: 75-98.
9. Bahre C.J. and Shelton M.L., “Rangeland Destruction: Cattle and Drought in Southeastern Arizona at the Turn of the Century,” Journal of the Southwest Spring 1996 38(1): 1-22.
10. United States Department of Agriculture Natural Resources Conservation Service, Plants Database , <http://www.plants.usda.gov>
11. University of Texas- Austin Lady Bird Johnson Wildflower Center, Native Plant Databse <http://www.wildflower.org/plants>
12. Western New Mexico University, Vascular Plants of the Gila Wilderness <http://www.wnmu.edu/academic/nspages/gilaflora/index.html>
13. AgriLIFE Extension Texas A&M, Toxic Plants of Texas <http://essmextension.tamu.edu/plants/toxics>
14. Croxen F.W., “History of Grazing on Tonto” Tonto Grazing Conference (Phoenix, Arizona) Nov. 4-5, 1926

 

Can I Be Lucile Mann When I Grow Up?

 By Lesley Parilla, Field Book Project

William and Lucile Mann in British Guiana on a collecting trip for the National Zoological Park (1931). RU 7293	Lucile Quarry Mann Feeding Tiger Cub, Babette (1949).  RU 371

When cataloging, I find that I identify with some of the creators of collections more than others.  Sometimes it is due to a similar background or a familiar characteristic, for example, a fascination with travel.  I live a bit vicariously through my spouse and colleagues whose jobs take them to unusual destinations, and I enjoy that many of the people whose work the Smithsonian documents traveled extensively and during dynamic moments in history. 

It is not uncommon in our archival records to find references to work done by a researcher’s spouse (usually a wife), who may have accompanied and assisted during far flung travels.  Few though, have as strong a voice in the collections as Lucile Mann, wife of National Zoo Director William Mann.  William Mann worked for the Smithsonian, becoming the Superintendent of the National Zoological Park in 1925, and served as Superintendent and Director of the Park until his retirement in 1956.  He had a gift for orchestrating expeditions, which were often major collecting events, covering broad geographic areas, and with great publicity.  He was involved with the Smithsonian-Chrysler Expedition to East Africa (1926); to British Guiana (1931); the National Geographic Society-Smithsonian Institution Expedition to the East Indies (1937); to Brazil and Argentina (1939); and the Smithsonian-Firestone Expedition to Liberia (1940).

 

Lucile Mann had a varied career before assisting her husband in his role as Director and collector for the National Zoo.  She worked for a short time in military intelligence, as an assistant editor for the Bureau of Entomology, USDA, and later as editor of the Woman Home Companion in New York.  From 1951-1971, she worked in the administrative offices of the Zoo, and edited Tiger Talk and Spots and Stripes. 

 

During William Mann’s early career, he personally recorded information about his collecting trips.  Eventually, the role of recorder was taken over by Lucille, who often accompanied him on expeditions and helped to care for and feed animals collected for the Zoo.  The Manns documented each of their trips and experiences using a variety of formats, including diaries, scrapbooks, and photo albums.  Detailed, typewritten records throughout provide an incredible depth to understanding what occurred during the trips.  Lucille’s background in editing has a clear and beneficial effect on the careful, and at times witty, captions found throughout.  The myriad details of their personal travel are also captured through restaurant menus, ship’s passenger lists, and photographs of friends.  These personal details are interspersed with photographs and written accounts of indigenous peoples, collecting challenges, and traveling during the oncoming Second World War.

 

 

William Mann inspecting the Buffalo crate on ship to Argentina. (1939).  RU 7293	William Shippen, journalist for Washington Evening Star who covered Mann’s trip through Argentina. (1939). RU 7293

 

Some of the photographs included here are from a scrapbook of Mann’s collecting trip to Argentina in 1939.  This scrapbook documents conditions of zoos across Argentina, visits with zoo officials, and animals collected and exchanged with zoos in South America. 

 

William and Lucile Mann’s expeditions were often well covered in the press.  Journalist William H. Shippen of Washington D.C.'s Evening Star, followed the trip and wrote a series of general interest stories relating to it.  These news clippings are included in Lucile’s scrapbook, and cover a wide variety of stories, from the varying price of beef in Argentina and US, to the story of young Tom Davis, who had a threatening encounter with an escaped 20-foot python while visiting Mann’s collecting camp.

 

Perusing the collection in entirety reveals that Lucile displayed a keen and ongoing passion for including images and details from her unusual travels that spark imagination, display her sense of humor, and keep the material feeling fresh and immediate.  This personal touch allows us to live vicariously through the records and begin to imagine ourselves in her shoes.   Afterall, who doesn’t want to feed a big-eyed baby tiger cub?  

 

William Mann pictured with Tom Davis, Argentina (1939). RU 7293	Part of Shippen’s series of articles covering from Mann’s trip through Argentina (1939). RU 7293

Why the Flowers Bloom

Harry Ardell Allard Fieldbooks, 1930-1952

By Lesley Parilla, Cataloger, Field Book Project

Cover of H.A. Allard Field book in NMNH Dept. of Botany collection	Calystegia sepium subsp. appalachiana.National Herbarium. Allard, H.A. 19748, 04 Aug 1950. USA. West Virginia. Tucker.

Harry Ardell Allard (1880-1963) was a botanist with the United States Department of Agriculture (USDA) for 40 years, working on collections of lichens and flowering plants, tobacco varieties, and interests in ornithology and entomology. When he retired in 1946, he had more than 200 publications to his name. 

Allard was independent from an early age.  Just after graduating high school in 1899, he ran away to join the Boers’ fight against the British in South Africa, taking work on a steamer carrying cattle to England.  He found himself stuck in England, impeded by travel restrictions.  Returning home, he attended University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill graduating in 1905.  To pay his way through college, Allard worked a variety of jobs, including a night watchman in two large cotton mills in Oxford.  Eventually he gained the notice of one his professors, who offered him a position as a botanical assistant.   

In 1906 he joined the USDA, eventually working with the Office of Tobacco Investigations.  While in this office, he became one of the first to identify the effect of aphids on Tobacco plants. In 1920 while working on seed production for Maryland Mammoth Tobacco, Allard worked with Dr. W.W. Garner discovering photoperiodism, the ability of flowering plants to determine the time of the season to bloom and produce seed based on the amount of daily sunlight.  Over the next twenty years, Allard continued to study this phenomenon.  With Garner and others, he produced numerous publications describing its impact on a wide range of cultivated crops and wild plants.

Allard remained an active collector and independent spirit late into his life.  He collected extensively in the mountains around Virginia, including the Alleghenies, Bull Run, and Blue Ridge.  He continued trips on a weekly basis into his later years.  He was known to take along companions, though many did not repeat the experience, due to his love of picking the steepest paths and densest foliage for their first outing.  One recurring companion recalled, “He made it a point to avoid the locations of stills, to carry cigars for men with whom he had become acquainted, and to keep an eye open for awkward meetings on trails (Gurney, p. 155).”

Page from Allard's notes for further collecting in Bull Run Region in NMNH Dept. of Botany collection

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Allard’s field book collection covers more than twenty years of work, and documents specimen collecting across the Dominican Republic and east coast of the United States.  His field books contain primarily specimen lists, organized by specimen number, some with detailed entries, and others with minimal information.   These lists were often carefully kept, sometimes having typed sheets of paper glued to amend entries.  Materials also include summaries of specimen collections as well as notes about collecting trips, and some correspondence relating to the specimens. 

Page from Allard's Field Book 25, Identification List, 9472 – 10861 in NMNH Dept. of Botany collection

 

 

Ashley B. Gurney. “Harry A. Allard, Naturalist: His life and work (1880-1963).” Bulletin of the Torrey Botanical Club, Vol. 91, No. 2 (Mar. - Apr., 1964), pp. 151-164.

Hunt Institute for Botanical Documentation. “Art Collections: Harry Ardell Allard Collection.” Hunt Institute for Botanical Documentation, Carnegie Mellon University. Created 2009. Accessed 4/1/2011. http://huntbot.andrew.cmu.edu/hibd/departments/Art/Allard.shtml

J. E. McMurtrey, Jr. “Harry A. Allard: 1880-1963.” Plant Physiology, Vol. 38, No. 3 (May, 1963), p. 361.

Calystegia sepium subsp. appalachiana. National Herbarium. Allard, H.A. 19748, 04 Aug 1950. USA. West Virginia. Tucker. Canaan Valley, near Dolly Sods. 900 to 1200 m. US SHEET NO.: 02006934   BARCODE: 00111345

Taming the Wild Blueberry

Frederick Vernon Coville Field books, 1896-1907, 1924-1934

By Lesley Parilla, Field Book Project  

"It is clear that while skimmed milk, buttermilk, casein and whey are useful as fertilizers for blueberry plants, cream and sugar are not. These are still best utilized, in accordance with established practice, on the blueberries themselves fresh from the ice box."[1]

[Portrait] Frederick V. Coville (Science Service) Acc. 90-105 - Science Service, Records, 1920s-1970s, Smithsonian Institution Archives	[Plant] Porophyllum leucospermum, Death Valley Exped., United States National Herbarium http://botany.si.edu/types/showImage.cfm?mypic=00124968.jpg

 
 Frederick Vernon Coville (1867-1937), was a botanist and expert in rushes, currants and blueberries.   His association with the USDA and Smithsonian spanned forty-nine years, and he authored more than 170 publications.  During his career, he took part in expeditions to Arkansas (1888); Death Valley (1891), one of the earliest collecting trips for desert vegetation; and Alaska (1899).  He was an important advocate for the creation of the National Arboretum, curator of the United States National Herbarium in 1896 after its transfer from the USDA to the Smithsonian, and honorary curator until his death. 

His professional achievements were extensive, but none can be judged sweeter than his success with the blueberry.  Prior to Coville’s efforts, blueberries had to be gathered from wild bushes, and rarely grew well outside of Canada and New England.  Farmers had determined the plant incapable of being grown commercially. 

[Enroute fieldbook image] Frederick V. Coville Field book (1924) Florida, Georgia, Mississippi, and Louisiana

In 1911, Elizabeth White, daughter of a cranberry farmer in Pine Barrens, New Jersey, read about Coville’s work on blueberries and approached him with an offer to use their farm as a site for his research.  Coville used wild blueberry bushes growing along the cranberry bogs of the property, working to determine optimal growing conditions and develop a strong plant with pleasant fruit.  Coville discovered that blueberries require unusually acidic soil and cool temperatures to thrive, conditions that would kill most crops.  By 1916, they had developed a commercially viable plant.  Areas of the country that were unusable for most crops proved optimal for blueberries.

 

[Fieldbook] Frederick V. Coville Field Book (1898), Oregon

 

Coville’s work extended well beyond the fruit; as a collector he traveled most of the eastern and western United States, including Death Valley.

Many of Coville's trips resulted in major publications, and he was a recipient of the George R. White Gold Medal of Honor for his lifetime of achievements.

Coville’s field notes provide a variety of detail and context to his collecting.  There are several formats from the Death Valley Expedition; basic catalogs of specimens, detailed itinerary, and journal entry style, including descriptions of daily activities, environments of specimen collecting, and detailed lists of plants in surrounding areas.  This variety and can be found throughout his field notes.  These field notes also include work he completed with such distiguished colleagues as John B. Leiberg (1896), Thomas Henry Kearney (1898-1899), and Frederick Funston (1890-1891). 

 

---

 

  [1][Coville's views on alternative forms of fertilizer for blueberry plants.]  National Geographic Society. “Taming’ wild plants wins highest Horticulture award.” Geographic News Bulletin. 2117   

 Bibliography

Coville, Frederick. “Taming the Wild Blueberry.”The National Geographic Magazine, Vol. 22, Issue 1, p. 137-147.

“Frederick Vernon Coville.” Cosmos Club Bulletin.  Vol. 20, No. 1, January 1967.

 Journal of the Washington Academy of Sciences. Vol. 27, No. 2, February 15, 1937.

 National Geographic Society. “Taming’ wild plants wins highest Horticulture award.” Geographic News Bulletin. Issue 2117.   

Noyes, Newbold. “Obituary.” Washington Star. March 19, 1967.

“Obituary.” Science. Vol. 85, No. 2203, p. 280.

Summary of the "Historic Architectural Survey and Preservation Planning project" for the Village of Whitesbog, Burlington and Ocean Counties, NJ, by the Historic Conservation & Interpretation, Inc.  September 1982. http://www.whitesbog.org/whitesboghistory/history1.htm

“U.S. National Arboretum Herbarium.” By Frederick G. Meyer. United State Department of Agriculture. Agricultural Research Service. March 3, 2011. http://www.ars.usda.gov/is/np/systematics/arboretum.htm?pf=1