Field Book Project

Andrew Caudell and His Insects

By Lesley Parilla, Field Book Project

Andrew Nelson Caudell (1872-1936), taken 1927. Acc. 90-105 - Science Service, Records, 1920s-1970s, Smithsonian Institution Archives. SIA2008-0643.

 

There are many collectors documented in the registry who worked long in the field and had successful careers, but whose life details seem lost to history. We have several for whom we only have a name and a place of work because their name is on the field book documenting department collections.

Andrew Nelson Caudell is not quite this little known, but after cataloging his field notes, I feel the same level of curiosity and frustration at not being able to easily find more information on his life. Caudell was an orthopterist who worked for the USDA’s Division of Insects, 1898-1936. His interest in entomology began at an early age. The first field book in his collection Record Unit 7162 documents his collecting at age 17. He spent most of his childhood on his family’s farm in Oklahoma.

If you peruse digital sources for information on him, there is little beyond what I listed above, except that he may have been the first person to marry over the telegraph according to Wikipedia. So why my frustration?

Caudell’s collection contains only 10 items, yet his meticulous recording as well as terse but descriptive style left quite an impression on me. The first field book in his collection includes entomological observations and a portion of a personal diary from when he was 17. He is painstaking in his recording of details; it is obvious and fascinating to see how he strives to provide accurate descriptions of insects. His grammar and spelling may be lacking, but his entomological terminology is strong. In the second half of the notebook is a short personal diary where he gives short but descriptive narratives of his daily work on the farm and interactions with family, like the one below.

[November 8, 1889] “Mother and John give me a little rakeing [sic] this evening because I am not educated and John give me a going over for pestering with Entomology. Jess sticks up for me and says I am all right.”

This and many other entries somehow seem to clearly show a young man with a true passion. His delivery and attitudes may not always show it with alacrity, but his simple writing style make his sincere enjoyment of his lifelong career evident. Below are two other quotes from his notebooks. These are just a sampling.

[May 28, 1922] A wife that loves is worth all the bugs or anything else in the world but one can’t do any collecting to amount to much when with them, especially if one has to go up trees, on rocks or near water.

[February 14, 1920] On my desk in the museum I found crawling a small beetle, Sitodrepa panacea Linn [sic]. This little critter is called the Drug Store Beetle as it eats drugs, also eats biscuits and now and then museum specimens. I put him in my collection.

Other scientists may include more anecdotes, collect in more exotic destinations, have more prestigious careers. Yet I am struck again and again by his obvious honest enjoyment of collecting and studying insects. We encourage you to check out his collection on Smithsonian’s Collection Search Center.

Page scans for hundreds of Smithsonian field books now online!

By Carolyn Sheffield, Project Manager

The Field Book Project is pleased to announce that page scans for over 200 of the cataloged Smithsonian field books are now available online through the Smithsonian’s Collection Search Center: http://collections.si.edu/search/results.htm?tag.cstype=all&q=unit_code%3AFBR&fq=online_media_type:%22Electronic+resource%22.  Additionally, over 300 new records have been added since the field book records were launched in December. 

Although the project started out as a cataloging initiative in 2010, we recognized early on the need for not just remote access to the catalog records but also to the rich and varied content found in field books.  Starting with a grant from the Smithsonian Women’s Committee, and continuing with the ongoing efforts of the Smithsonian Institution Archives’ Digital Services, we are thrilled to begin seeing this goal realized.

Cover of the Albatross logbook, Hawaiian exploration #1, Mch 14-31, 1902, dr 3791 - dr 3819, hy 4035 - hy 4052. SIA RU 7184.	Page from the Albatross logbook, Hawaiian exploration #1, Mch 14-31, 1902, dr 3791 - dr 3819, hy 4035 - hy 4052. SIA RU 7184.

The page scans that are now online provide great representation of the variety of topics and formats that field books can take.  For starters, there are numerous ship logs from the Albatross documenting voyages in the 19^th and 20^th centuries.   Built in 1882, the Albatross was one of the first large vessels designed specifically for marine research. The Albatross logbooks contain a wealth of information, not just about species, but about weather and other environmental conditions at the time.  As demonstrated by projects like OldWeather, ship log data can be extremely useful for understanding historic climate patterns and helping scientists model projections.  If you dig old ships and marine biodiversity, check out our earlier post on the Albatross collection: http://nmnh.typepad.com/fieldbooks/2012/10/new-uses-for-old-books.html.

Some of the other field books now online provide a look into terrestrial research.  From herpetologist James A. Peters, you can get a sense of what it was like to conduct field work in Mexico in 1949 and read detailed descriptions of some of the specimens he saw.  Peters' Field Notes: Mexico, 1949  also includes a bit of an unexpected treat--a sketch of a horse and buggy can be found inserted between his pages of notes.

Sketch of a horse and cart, insert in James A. Peters' Field Notes: Mexico, 1949. SIA RU 7175.

Page from James A. Peters' Field Notes: Mexico, 1949. SIA RU 7175.

Harrison G. Dyar’s field books, or “blue books”, are some of my personal favorites and several of these are also now available.  These include detailed notes on his daily observations and frequently include sketches.  Dyar was a renowned entomologist whose personal life is perhaps as well remembered as his professional life.  He served as honorary curator of Lepidoptera at the Smithsonian and as a mosquito specialist for the USDA.  He is perhaps best known for his peculiar habit of digging elaborate tunnels under his two homes in Washington D.C. 

Page from Harrison G. Dyar's Bluebook 532-574. SIA Acc. 12-447.

To view all of these and more, visit http://collections.si.edu/search/results.htm?tag.cstype=all&q=unit_code%3AFBR&fq=online_media_type:%22Electronic+resource%22.   To repeat our search strategy, you can also start from http://collections.si.edu, type unit_code:FBR in the search box and then use the Online Media facet to limit your search to records with electronic resources.  Enjoy!

Letters from Amateur Collectors

By Lesley Parilla, Field Book Project

I recently cataloged a type of collection well outside the norm for me: the correspondence between a scientist, Oscar L. Cartwright (SIA RU007338), and a wide range of collectors who provided specimens for his department. These collectors were scientists and enthusiasts. I was excited when I realized a substantial portion of field work documentation was from amateur collectors. Citizen scientists have made important contributions to Smithsonian research over the decades, but the documentation has not appeared in high concentrations in the collections we’ve cataloged.

Cartwright was an entomologist at the US National Museum who specialized in Scarabidae. The portion of Cartwright’s collection that I cataloged is comprised of correspondence, organized alphabetically with individually designated folders for major correspondents.

Over the last two years, while cataloging field notes, I have come to recognize that often people who study natural sciences come to it through a relationship (e.g. spouse or sibling) or a love of the topic. It doesn’t seem to be a line of work that attracts people just interested in a pay check. Scientists whose work we document usually conduct research because it is a lifelong interest that often extends well past their retirement from paid employment. The correspondence in this collection is intriguing because it demonstrates how the study of natural sciences can be of such personal value to a wide range of people, not just those who pursue it as a career.

The correspondence includes letters from Margay Bos who accompanied her husband when he went to work in Casabe, Colombia. She initially collected butterflies and later looked to collect beetles at Cartwright’s request. She wrote to Cartwright about her field work.

[February 10, 1957] When the company cuts a path into the jungles in search of oil, we butterfly girls go in just as soon as the company is through and with knives, we keep these lanes clear for our hobby. Most of the people here (well, really all of them except we three) would be afraid for their lives to go even outside of the camp, much less, in the jungles! For me I dread to see the day come when I have to leave here!

Additionally, correspondence also documents mentoring of enthusiasts. Charles Griffin corresponded with Cartwright about his collecting in Texas. Over the course of Cartwright’s correspondence with the man, he shares about various aspects and methods for collecting insects including recording standards, field work dangers, and reference texts. Cartwright also offers a sounding board for the young man who not only seems increasingly fascinated with collecting but struggles with a job that leaves him unfulfilled. Below Griffin asks Cartwright about how to deal with rattlesnakes.

Would like to ask your opinion concerning an eternal and disturbing problem. In all of the areas where the neotoma are found, rattlesnakes abound. I almost stepped on one Sunday. It was on the other side of a limb across the path traveled, which I was about to step over. Had it not rattled, or done so a moment later, it would surely have had me. Have you collected in rattlesnake infested brush? If so, what precautions did you take?

Cartwright’s answer:

The only thing I can tell you about rattlesnakes is to be extremely careful and to always carry a snake kit with you. In all of my collecting, I have seen probably no more than half a dozen live rattlesnakes. Same for the other poisonous snakes. In South Carolina, I once saw Professor Sherman step within six inches of a rattlesnake’s head and the snake didn’t move or rattle. But when I tried to catch it with a forked stick, moved to within 3 inches of its neck, it easily avoided the sudden thrust and began to rattle, ready to strike. I am not familiar with the habits of the diamondback, but would suspect them to be fast and quick to strike.

  These letters document the collecting by housewives, businessmen, and career scientists. They demonstrate the dedication, challenges, and joys experienced by not just the people who pursue science as a career but also by those that do it for personal enjoyment. Additionally the letters show the time and energy scientists expend to encourage and mentor these individuals. This collection helps demonstrate the range of people and events that have contributed to the amazing natural history collections at the Smithsonian—from the expeditions to the individual collector.

Field Notes from a Termite Lady

By Emily Hunter, Field Book Project

I’m not a scientist. I appreciate nature, but I’m not someone who has dedicated my life to studying it. Maybe it is because I’m an outsider to the discipline that I’m absolutely fascinated by the range of topics that the fervent scientist pursues. Whatever you can think of… someone out there probably has a near-fanatical devotion to understanding it. And I mean really, think about it! What’s the most boring, uninteresting animal, plant, or rock you can imagine? I am willing to bet that someone somewhere finds it riveting. And thank goodness for that! If I were a scientist, I’d probably study something cute and furry, but I sure am glad that there are good people out there studying the worms and the not-so-cute things.

Photograph panorama showing collectors on the beach where termite infested driftwood was found. Little Cayman, Cayman Islands, February 17, 1995. SIA Acc. 01-038, Box 1, Folder 13. No negative number.

I just couldn’t fathom the motivation for entomologist Margaret Collins’s passion for termites. Margaret Collins was so enthralled with termites that she observed them, wrote about them, collected them, even ate them. I just so happened to read all about it in her field notes, part of the collection “National Museum of Natural History (U.S.) Dept. of Entomology, Curatorial Records, 1959-1996” (SIA Acc. 01-038).

Why was I surprised that Margaret Collins was obsessed with termites? Maybe part of it was that what I learned about Margaret Collins herself made me see quickly that she was a fascinating woman! Logically it would follow…fascinating person, must be studying fascinating things. And so, with an open mind, I read her field notes.

Dr. Margaret Collins

Image of Dr. Collins, printed in “National Trust for the Cayman Islands 1992 Annual Report”. SIA Acc. 01-038, Box 1, Folder 13. No negative number.

First, some background on Collins. Margaret Collins, affectionately known as “the termite lady” to friends and colleagues, was declared the first African-American female entomologist by the Entomological Society of America (Peters, 2010, p. 654). She was born in 1922 in Institute, West Virginia, where she grew up in a well-educated family. Collins was interested in nature from a young age, observing and collecting small animals in the creek near her house. She was extraordinarily gifted and graduated from high school early in 1937. Margaret Collins was just 14 years old when she enrolled in college.

Collins studied zoology at West Virginia State University and went on to earn her PhD in 1949 from the University of Chicago. Her accomplishments are many, including discovering Neotermes Luykxi. She held professorships of zoology at Howard University, Florida A&M, and Federal City College. In the late 1970’s Collins came to the National Museum of Natural History as a Research Associate where she worked to organize the termite collection.

I can only imagine what Collins faced as an African-American and a woman scientist through the decades, including the struggle for civil rights and equality during the 1950s-1970s. In an interview with Black Women Scientists in the United States author Wini Warren, Collins said, “Because of my family and our community I had a unique childhood. I never learned what I couldn’t do—as a child, as a woman, or as a Black person.” (p. 52).

Collins felt most at home in the field. She traveled to Belize, Dominica, Guyana, Cayman Islands, Suriname, Bahamas, and British Virgin Islands collecting and studying termites. She did not allow age to slow her down, continuing to work in the field into her 70s. In 1996, on a field trip to the Cayman Islands, Margaret Collins passed away.

The Fascinating Termite

Photographs taped together to show termite-infested driftwood, Little Cayman, Cayman Islands, February 17, 1995. SIA Acc. 01-038, Box 1, Folder 13. No negative number.

In her field book, Collins wrote with admiration about the termite’s ability to digest wood. I decided to investigate termites a little more.

It turns out that despite their bad rap as destructive pests, termites are ecologically beneficial in some ways: they recycle nutrients, clear up organic debris (rotting limbs and leaves), and create hollowed spaces that other animals might call home. They also have pretty interesting social structures. Termites are eusocial animals that, like ants, have societies with various roles like soldiers, workers, and queens. Termites build complex nests using a mixture mud, feces, and saliva. Have you seen a termite cathedral mound? Just take a look at the sophisticated engineering of this structure.

Cathedral Termite Mound, home to a colony of grass eating termites, Nasutitermes triodiae. Litchfield National Park, Northern Territory, Australia. Photo by J Brew, via Wikimedia Commons.	Eastern subterranean termite soldiers (Reticulitermes flavipes KOLLAR). Photograph is in the public domain. Via United States Department of Agriculture on Wikimedia Commons.

Maybe Margaret Collins was right about termites! By the end of the collection, I have to admit, I was starting to think termites were pretty cool. Fortunately, Margaret Collins studied these creatures, learned about them, wrote about them, and most importantly, paved the way for others to do the same. Thank you, Termite Lady!

--

References:

Peters, J. G. (2010). Bill Peters and Entomology at Florida A&M University. Florida Entomologist, 93(4), 654. Available online at: http://journals.fcla.edu/flaent/article/view/76176/73834

Termite Expert Margaret Collins Dies During Trip. (1996, May 5). The Washington Post, p. B9.

Warren, W. (1999). Black Women Scientists in the United States. Bloomington: Indiana University Press.

Learn more about termites!

The Incredible Termite Mound (PBS)

Faster than a Speeding Bullet (Smithsonian Magazine)

Termite Bellies and Biofuels (Smithsonian Magazine)

Older Termites Blow Themselves Up to Protect Their Colony (Smithsonian Magazine)

The Darker Side of Biodiversity: Disease Vectors

By Lesley Parilla, Field Book Project

Larry Huber photographs Noddy tern on East Island, French Frigate Shoals, as part of the Pacific Ocean Biological Survey Program, August 9, 1965. Smithsonian Institution Archives RU 000245. SIA2011-1438.

Documenting biodiversity is an important part of the Field Book Project. I recently came across a more visceral side of biodiversity while cataloging. It demonstrates the “interconnectedness” of nature in a practical sense -- ectoparasites as disease vectors. Ectoparasites are really annoying insects and other arthropods like fleas, mites, ticks, lice that spread diseases…you don’t get more connected than that.

This topic is perhaps more relevant to current events than the typical Field Book Project blog post topic. West Nile virus, N1H1 virus, and Lyme disease are all examples of diseases spread through disease vectors.

The field books that we have cataloged relating to this subject represent one facet of the Smithsonian’s research on disease vectors. The Department of Entomology has had an ongoing relationship with the US Army, Walter Reed Biosystematics Unit (WRBU) since 1961. The two organizations work together to manage and develop the NMNH Mosquito Collection, which has become the largest of its kind at 1.5 million specimens. The collection relates to the Army’s efforts to plan for possible disease vectors at new locations where military are deployed.

Since the beginning of the Field Book Project we have cataloged notes from several collecting efforts that studied disease vectors. In the Division of Birds and Division of Mammals, we came across four Smithsonian projects and field books from the US Army Hemorrhagic Fever Team as well as Naval Medical Research Units (NAMRU). These spanned 1950’s to 1970’s and encompassed impressive amounts of geography. The four projects are: the Pacific Ocean Biological Survey Program (POBSP), U.S. Palearctic Migratory Bird Survey, Venezuela Project, and Smithsonian African Mammal Project.

I cataloged a portion of the POBSP collection in the Division of Birds; it was the first time I came across detailed notes on not only wildlife (in this case birds), but also transects of vegetation in habitat, and ectoparasites found on the birds, all in the same journals. This project was one of several that received a portion of its funding from the Department of Defense. I was intrigued by the projects’ similarities in timing, size, and funding; I wondered if the similarities were coincidence or if there was something in common influencing the structure and timing of all the projects.

Survey data sheet from the Smithsonian Venezuela Project.  Housed at the Division of Mammals, National Museum of Natural History. Photographed by Lesley Parilla.

But first I’d like to talk a little more about the type of information recorded in field notes for these projects. The study of ectoparasites constituted a significant portion of the African Mammal Project’s field books I recently cataloged, and unlike POBSP, notes on host animals and ectoparasites were recorded in separate catalogs. Often entitled “bug books,” collectors would record the presence of ectoparasites collected from the mammal specimens, and note the presence of fleas, mites, ticks, lice; as well as genus of host. The Smithsonian Venezuelan project yielded even more detailed information per mammal host. These included survey data sheets that recorded per mammal specimen recording:

• type of ectoparasite
• time of day
• weather
• phase of moon
• wind
• specific site #
• temperature (maximum and minimum)
• humidity (maximum and minimum)
• elevation, latitude and longitude
• topography

These also included an additional 18 other pieces of information about the mammal host. When I started cataloging in entomology, I spoke with one of the scientists who informed me that some of the collected ectoparasites are in the Smithsonian entomology collection.

I had a chance to speak to Pam Henson, Director of the Institutional History Division at the Smithsonian Institution, about these projects. It turns out these projects came at an interesting time in the history of the Smithsonian and federally funded research. The Smithsonian houses and cares for national collections of the United States; the institution maintains long term relationships with the agencies that contributed to these collections. Scientists who work for the Smithsonian historically conduct pure science research. When we find field books relating to applied science research (usually of economic or medical importance), the work was typically completed by federal agency like US Department of Agriculture, US Geological Survey, and US Biological Survey; specimens from the organizations were transferred to the Smithsonian who became caretaker of the collections. This is how NMNH came to include the NAMRU and Hemorrhagic Fever Team field books. The military team field books are from conflict zones during the 1950’s and 1960’s and document collecting of mammals and insects to study sites of disease outbreaks among troops, like work completed by the US Army Hemorrhagic Fever Team. The resulting mammal specimens were given to the Smithsonian along with the field books as documentation.

The four Smithsonian projects mentioned earlier were major undertakings involving applied research conducted by Smithsonian staff. It seems that all of these projects garnered significant funding from DOD, partly because of growing concerns about disease vectors affecting troops in new locations. By the beginning of the 1970’s, the Smithsonian decided for several reasons that this type of research was outside its scope. Smithsonian staff returned their focus to pure science research, whose results could be shared without restriction.

These studies offer an amazingly clear example of interconnectedness of nature at work. The resulting documents can delineate relationships across types of flora and fauna to a specimen and its collecting site. Additionally these projects offer a unique glimpse into the history of scientific collecting approaches and our Institution history.

Transportation in the Field: Planes and a Change of Perspective

By Lesley Parilla, Field Book Project

Image from P. A. Glick’s publication Collecting Insects by Airplane in Southern Texas in 1957.  Image is Public Domain from Google eBooks.

Aviation has had significant effects on the nature of field work. It has changed not only how the collectors get to a site, but also how they see and collected, resulting in wide-ranging consequences.

By the mid-twentieth century, commercial aviation was dramatically changing the speed of travel; collectors, up to that time, would commonly travel long distances via train or boat. With commercial aviation, a weeklong boat trip to Africa became a multi-hour long flight. During the 1960’s when commercial air travel became more widespread, there was an influx of major surveys by Smithsonian departments involving large numbers of staff that would have proven far more logistically complicated prior to commercial aviation. The speed and ease of commercial air travel meant collectors could spend significantly less time getting to their sites and more time on-site. With the time they saved, collectors could spend longer at one location or visit additional ones.

The advent of planes also affected collecting by changing collectors’ perspectives. Collectors could see the environments they studied from an entirely new vantage, hundreds or thousands of feet in the air. Some scientists even took it a step further and used aviation as a way to collect the specimens. Perry A. Glick, an entomologist with the US Department of Agriculture’s Agricultural Research Service, used nets that attached to planes, enabling insect collecting in air to study the altitudinal distribution of insects. He produced several publications about this during the 1950’s and 1960’s.

By the 1940’s, there are examples of scientists attempting to integrate the aviation into their field work observations and collecting. Some of these attempts proved less than successful, while others helped demonstrate aviation’s value to field work. I found a reference to an unsuccessful attempt with a helicopter in a journal of C. O. Handley, Jr. Judging from the results, I am assuming they did not try it again.

[Thule, Greenland, 1948] The way it turned out he flew in the helicopter instead and spent the afternoon trying to fish from that. On the water, with its rotors off, the plane blows about like a kite even in a small breeze. Thus no matter where they would land, they would soon drift in to the beach. Another disadvantage was that when the helicopter starts on the water after its rotor has been dead, the whole thing spins with the rotor until the latter attains sufficient speed to stabilize the plane.

Though the helicopter proved less than useful over water, it yielded results over land. The journal includes hand drawn maps that indicate that survey results were successful, as seen in recorded observation taken via helicopter and on foot.

 

Example of F. Raymond Fosberg’s observations from an airplane. Photographed by Emily Hunter.

A more successful example of aerial observations is the work of F. Raymond Fosberg, (discussed in the February 24, 2012 article by Emily Hunter), who recognized the benefits of aerial observations alongside ground observations for his field of botany. Several of his field books include extended aerial observations of sites where he collected botanical specimens. Fosberg even published articles promoting the use of aerial photographs for surveying and studying botanical distribution. He proposed using military aerial photographs (that were taken during World War II) for this purpose. I have not been able to determine whether his hopes for these photographs came to fruition, but there are now a considerable number of examples of aerial photography being used for this type of botanical study.

  Botany was not the only other field to make use of aviation. Harry S. Ladd used aerial observations in his field of paleontology and geology. Field notes document his observations via helicopter, noting the shape and character of reefs in Fiji, as seen below in a journal excerpt.

May 7, 1968 Tues - By Hill helicopter from Heron Id to Gladstone [Fiji]. Flying over reefs confirms impressions obtained on ground – i.e. if lee reefs and lagoons. Reefs appear to be more saw-toothed on lee than on windward. No suggestion of lithothamnion(?) ridge to windward – only what looks like a low marinol bulge (of debris?). Lagoon of Wistari(?) appears to have small ring-like structure-comparable to that seen yesterday in Heron lagoon plus irregular.

Since the 1960’s, the use of aviation and aerial photographs has spun off in a myriad of directions. Aircraft and aerial photographs are now used for monitoring and management wildlife habitat, locating and analyzing archaeological sites, and studying plant ecology. Scientists and even the National Park Service are beginning to utilize unmanned aerial vehicles.

All of the forms of transportation discussed in our transportation series have helped shape the research recorded by the field notes we document. Sometimes they present challenges to the collectors, sometimes a new advantage or perspective. For me, it demonstrates the flexibility and ingenuity of our collectors to see and to use opportunities as they present themselves. Field work often seems to be journey of the unexpected; I can’t wait to see what comes next.

Trial and Error: Experiments in the Field and at Home

By Sonoe Nakasone, Field Book Project

Recipe for a pesticide containing kerosene, water, and condensed milk. This page was in between the entries dated October 21 and 22, 1881. Smithsonian Institution Archives, RU007107, box 1, folder 10.  SIA2012-2212.

As a child, I spent years developing my own cheesecake recipe.  I experimented with multiple baking methods, varying amounts and types of ingredients, and other details until I finally had several perfect recipes.  This years-long trial and error process was none other than a (less rigorous) form of the Scientific Method, which required me to

 

1) hypothesize (cakes become denser when more dense ingredients are added),

2) predict (if I add more cheese, which is dense, the cake will become denser),

3) experiment, and finally

4) evaluate (slight improvement; add more cheese? subtract lighter ingredients? use denser cheese?).

I usually associate the scientific method with lab (or kitchen) work, but science experiments can and often do also occur in the field.  When they do, the notes from those experiments are field notes—see where this is going?

Over a year ago, I cataloged field notes by Henry Guernsey Hubbard, horticulturist, botanist, and entomologist for the U.S. Geological Survey (Smithsonian Institution Archives RU7107).  Perhaps Hubbard’s blend of professional knowledge specially equipped him to perform his series of field experiments in the 1880s to develop a pesticide for parasitic insects damaging orange trees.  He tested several pesticides, emulsions concocted from varying amounts of kerosene and condensed milk.  The recipes, included in his field notes, are accompanied by observations on the effectiveness of each emulsion. 

Observations of orange trees infested with lepidoptera larvae, spiders, and scales, September 27, 1881.  Smithsonian Institution Archives, RU007107, box 1, folder 10.  SIA2012-2210.	Examination of orange trees infested with scales and other insect pests and results of experiment no. 10, October 21, 1881.  Smithsonian Institution Archives, RU007107, box 1, folder 10.  SIA2012-2211.	Results of experiment from emulsion no. 3, November 17, 1881.  Smithsonian Institution Archives, RU007107, box 1, folder 10.  SIA2012-2214.

Hubbard’s recipes spoke to me.  The thought of Hubbard mixing up a strange concoction of kerosene and condensed milk, like some mystical apothecary, made me want to test his pesticide recipes.   Beyond the childish desire to mix up odd potions, I was curious to know how effective his solution would be on pests I’ve encountered. 

DON’T WORRY!  Spraying kerosene on plants in the 1880s might have been acceptable, but in the 21^st century, the use of such a pesticide seems environmentally irresponsible and ecologically cruel.  Instead, I looked for a mild and environmentally sound alternative to test on my basil.  Last summer, my basil was nibbled to pieces.  This summer, I took a note from Hubbard and experimented with the effectiveness of a simple pepper spray pesticide.  Unlike Hubbard, I only had the time and attention span to test one solution.  My hypothesis and prediction: insects would find very spicy substances repelling, so by creating a strong pepper spray, I could prevent them from eating or even being around my basil.  My recipe was basic:

Boil 1 jalapeño, sliced and retaining seeds, with 2-4 cups of water for 20 minutes or more.

The water boiled down to a spicy 8oz, which I poured into a spray bottle.  I bought two basil plants, drenching the leaves of one plant with my new pesticide and leaving the other unsprayed.  Both were planted. 

Basil plant without pesticide before experiment, Summer 2012.  By Sonoe Nakasone with Ipod camera.	Basil plant with pesticide before experiment, Summer 2012.  By Sonoe Nakasone with Ipod camera.

Unfortunately for me and for my readers, I didn’t do a great job at two key elements of the scientific process: the experiment and the evaluation.  I was inconsistent about spraying the test plant each day and inconsistent in observing and note taking.  I did, however, take before and after pictures.  Although these grainy photos show very little, I hope you’re able to see that the recipe seemed successful.  The plant with the pesticide received less damage than the one without.  My evaluation and conclusion: this stuff works, but would probably produce better results if implemented more consistently. 

Basil plant without pesticide after experiment, Summer 2012.  By Sonoe Nakasone with Ipod camera.	Basil plant with pesticide after experiment, Summer 2012.  By Sonoe Nakasone with Ipod camera.

Hubbard’s field notes are an excellent example of scientific experimentation.  The ingredients in Hubbard’s recipes sparked my imagination as readily as the witches’ potion in Macbeth and ignited my desire to conduct my own field experiment.  So, from Hubbard to me, from me to you: try a field experiment, and see how you do.  And as always, please share your experiences with us.

Butterfly Vision: Robert E. Silberglied’s Photographic Explorations

By Emily Hunter, Field Book Project

Portrait of Silberglied with a camera, photographer unknown, July 1971. SIA RU7316, Box 17, Folder 11. SIA2012-7948.

In a recent blog post on entomologist Robert E. Silberglied, I touched on the creativity evident in Silberglied’s mixed-media field books. In addition to all of the graphs, sketches, maps, and textual entries, were a plethora of photographic prints and negatives. Some of the images were clearly intended as quick documentation. Others, like the photograph of the butterfly below, are quite beautiful. Was there anything Silberglied couldn’t do?

Photograph of Anartia jatrophae (Nymphalidae) in the midst of expanding its wings after exiting the pupa, the remains of which can be seen next to the butterfly. Robert E. Silberglied, undated (circa 1970s). SIA RU7316, Box 17, Folder 5. SIA2012-7947.

Photography and cinematography were integral to Silberglied’s scientific investigations for two main reasons:

1. Photography allowed Silberglied to document his field work and experiments with butterflies. Still photographs taken in quick succession could freeze butterflies mid-flight (or mid-courtship). Silberglied could then study those fleeting moments.

2. Photography (and cinematography) allowed Silberglied to capture ultraviolet (UV) information otherwise invisible to the human eye. In other words, he attempted to see what a butterfly sees.

A major part of Silberglied’s work with butterflies, was on UV reflectance. I felt completely lost on this topic, until coming across a small field book (Costa Rica, 1972) with what looks like a handwritten presentation that Silberglied gave on “UV Colors in Butterflies.” The draft (written in pen with many cross-outs and corrections) is eloquent and interesting, and most importantly, understandable! Somehow, Silberglied was able to communicate to me (a total novice) an extremely complex concept. In it, Silberglied describes the differences between human and insect vision. UV patterns that are invisible to the human eye assist butterflies with camouflage, finding nectar in a flower, communicating, and attracting a mate. Silberglied became fascinated with translating the invisible UV patterns to human visible images—via photography and cinematography.

On March 2, 1972, Silberglied wrote a letter to the Eastman Kodak Company, asking for recommendations for ultraviolet films. He explains,

I am presently designing a device for simultaneous color, and 300-400nm ultraviolet, 16mm cinematography of living subjects (mostly flying butterflies, closeup) under natural light…

Silberglied goes on to describe his invention that includes two 35mm lenses that have been attached to 16mm motion picture cameras (one recording color film, the other recording UV).

In a letter dated April 24, 1972, Martin L. Scott of the Eastman Kodak Company replied to Silberglied’s interesting question. He praised Silberglied’s inventiveness stating, “Your project seems well-planned, and your equipment seems well-thought out.” He goes on, “I think perhaps some practical experience is needed next.”

The book is full of things a bit out of my range of expertise including a graph of “diachronic beamsplitter transmission curves” (say what?). Also included are carefully recorded UV exposure data, recording focus, exposure, sequence, fps (frames per second), f-stop, and distances of the color and UV lenses.

Photograph depicting a magnified butterfly wing, undated, by Robert Silberglied. SIA RU7316, Box 16, Folder 15. SIA2012-7946.

Silberglied made fascinating use of photography in his field work, and who knows what he would have accomplished today with the abundance of new imaging technologies, as well as advances in sound recording, molecular techniques, and sophisticated methods of tracking individual butterflies. Of course, we don’t have the capacity to really experience the world as a butterfly does, but Silberglied’s work takes us a step closer.

---

The author would like to thank Annette Aiello for sharing her knowledge and expertise. Annette worked closely with Bob Silbeglied at the Smithsonian Tropical Research Institute before his tragic death and continues to work on Lepidoptera at STRI. Thanks also to David Furth and Robert Robbins in the National Museum of Natural History, Department of Entomology.

More information on butterflies, UV reflectance, and photography, can be found in the following resources:

Folsom, W. (2000). Art and Science of Butterfly Photography. Google Books.

Silberglied, R. Communication in the Ultraviolet. Annual Review of Ecology and Systematics , Vol. 10, (1979), pp. 373-398. http://www.jstor.org/stable/2096797

Transportation in the Field: Collectors and Their Cars

By Lesley Parilla, Field Book Project

Fiat with collecting net in place, taken by Edward A Chapin while collecting at Hope Gardens, Jamaica, 1937. SIA Acc. 12-446, box 1, envelope 51. SIA2012-9625. Department of Entomology, National Museum of Natural History.	Reverse side of photograph, “Jamaica: automobile with collecting net in place. With this net we took more than 25,000 specimens.” SIA2012-9626.

Most people have strong opinions about their cars. Deciding factors are often fuel efficiency or comfort since most of us drive paved roads like Interstate 495. Like commuters, collectors in the field depend on their mode of transportation to get them where they need to go. Unlike a typical driver in the US, collectors face difficult and often unknown terrain. A dependable car is indispensible. The right car can even become a collecting tool, as seen in the photograph above. The field journals we catalog frequently describe travel details, notes on arrangements, and challenges in the field – including information about the vehicles driven.

Geologist and paleontologist G. Arthur Cooper named some of his cars. Above is the "Scarlet Harlot" in 1973 [86-498]. Smithsonian Institution Archives.	Above is G. A. Cooper's “Emerald Queen” in 1961 [85-16956]. Smithsonian Institution Archives.

Sometimes these references are short; they may only state that the collector rented a car from the airport. However, some collectors develop strong preferences and even a noted affection for the cars they use. One of the first references like this I found was in the field notes of Alexander Wetmore. He collected in Panama nearly every year during the 1940’s and 1950’s. When he would visit, he utilized staff and equipment at US military bases like Albrook Air Force base. He routinely used the same jeep in the Air Force car pool. In honor of this, the Air Force staff stenciled a Smithsonian designation on the jeep, which can be seen in the photograph below. Wetmore took several photographs of himself with the jeep.

A. Wetmore and F. Arosamena, La Honda, Panama, March 15, 1948. Alexander Wetmore papers, Smithsonian Institution Archives, SIA RU007006. SIA2008-3201.

Numerous references to cars can also be found in the journals of the Smithsonian African Mammal Project, housed in the Division of Mammals, Natural Museum of Natural History. Within these journals were frequent lists of needed repairs for various Land Rovers and other cars used. Below is an example of some of the issues that transpired during the Project. Entries are from the field book of D. E. Harvey in Mauritania.

8 December 1966: “…Wired Washington for parts and sent letter to Hank explaining that Ford was not built for this country and that we need another vehicle (Landrover [sic]). There are parts for Landrovers here and with lighter load Ford might be okay…I talked with mechanic today and he said that although the road to Fort Gouraud is bad, roads to the E. are worse. He had had no trouble with Landrovers on these roads. Internationals are ok also but you can’t get parts. Dodge Powerwagon [sic] engine no good.”

21 January 1967: “Did get about 40 km from Fort Gouraud this day. Truck got stuck in sand 15 times. Slept in truck tonight.”

22 January 1967: “Left for Nouakchott but didn’t get past Atar, driver had to sleep and sell his load of salt…”

23 January 1967: “Driver didn’t sell his load of salt yet so I took another truck to Nouakchott. Truck with axel will arrive 25 January…”

25 January 1967: “No parts had arrived. Tie-rod had arrived but customs officers had lost exoneration paper… [mechanic] will have to make a new stud axel & axel shaft…”

Over a month later…

27 February 1967: “Embassy got the axel for truck released from Customs today…”

These types of entries can be found throughout field books, especially in challenging terrain of Africa. The ability to get to a location affects how well and how often it can be a collecting site. Luckily for us, collectors are often willing to deal with a myriad of difficulties to get to their sites. They adapt and make do with what is available.

So you might be asking yourself, how do collectors get to locations that are not accessible by car? What about locations only accessible by air or water? Watch for upcoming blog posts discussing collectors and other modes of transportation.

The Mixed-Media Field Books of Robert E. Silberglied

By Emily Hunter, Field Book Project

Portrait of Robert E. Silberglied, circa 1975. RU 007316, Box 16, folder 7. SIA2012-7932.

After cataloging field books from the Department of Botany for the past 7 months, it was both exciting and daunting to tackle the Robert E. Silberglied Papers collection (RU007316) in the Smithsonian Institution Archives. Silberglied was an entomologist, with a passion for Lepidoptera (butterflies). He collected butterflies and other insects in the United States and abroad from about 1960 to 1984 and had a particular interest in UV reflectivity of butterfly wings, insect vision, and insect behavior. While working as a professor at Harvard University, Silberglied spent summers at the Smithsonian Tropical Research Institute (STRI) in Panama, making collections and conducting experiments.

I found out early in my research that Robert E. Silberglied died quite young—a mere 36 years old--in the tragic Air Florida plane crash of 1982. I wonder what more he could have contributed if he had not been taken at such a young age.

Robert E. Silberglied field notes, showing maps of Galápagos Islands, circa 1967-1971. RU 007316, Box 13, folder 27. SIA2012-9757.

Silberglied’s field books span 10 years (1965-1975), from when he was just 19 years old until he was 29. The notes seem to incorporate the variety of media that fall into our definition of field books—journals, field data, hand-drawn maps, sketches, photographs, charts. Some of his field books cross the fine line between personal diaries and scientific data books, with entries on parties he attended and opinions of people he met residing alongside tables of data on insects that he observed or collected in the field.

It’s hard to relate just how interesting Silberglied’s books are with a few photos. None of the pages are extraordinary on their own, but together they feel like a scrapbook of an entire collecting trip. Narrative, visual diagrams, renderings, and collected objects (including postcards and a few Mexican beer labels) are all compiled in a single volume.

Robert E. Silberglied field notes with sketches of insect nests, Galápagos Islands, 1970. RU 007316, Box 13, Folder 27. SIA2012-9949.	Robert E. Silberglied field notes with drawings of boat, Galápagos Islands, 1970. RU 007316, Box 13, Folder 28. SIA2012-9801.

I have a notion that Silberglied was a bit of an artist, though I can’t find any evidence of formal artistic training in his past. Besides utilizing color in his field books in a variety of ways, he also sketches to document his field observations and lab experiments. In looking through the materials in the collection (both field book and other materials) I found something that seemed to confirm my belief—a folder of tiny stamps depicting a butterfly, a beetle, and other insects. Silberglied carved these stamps out of regular (think Pink Pearl) erasers, with impressive detail and technique. The largest stamp is only about 1 inch square. I’m unsure of what Silberglied used these stamps for, or if he made them simply for fun.

Silberglied was also a talented and inventive photographer. Silberglied’s relationship to photography is so fascinating, in fact, that I will have to promise another blog post dedicated entirely to that topic.

Photograph of Colias on plant by Robert E. Silberglied, 1971. RU 007316, Box 16, folder 14. SIA2012-7945.	Weather data chart from Robert E. Silberglied field notes, Galápagos Islands, 1970. RU 007316, Box 13, Folder 28. SIA2012-9972.

I can’t help but admire Silberglied’s seamless integration of science and creativity. He was obviously a visual soul and an avid observer and documenter. Certainly, the blend makes for an interesting person, an accomplished scientist, and some very cool field notes.

Scientific Observations in a Grocery Log: The Field Books of Harrison Dyar

Typical Blue Book Page, Book 5 pg 225. 1890-1896. Department of Entomology, National Museum of Natural History. SIA Acc. 12-447. Photo by Blair Bailey.

As a summer pre-program conservation intern with the Smithsonian Center for Archives Conservation, I’ve had the opportunity to work with a variety of book and paper objects. The Center for Archives Conservation is a treatment laboratory located at the Smithsonian Institution Archives (SIA) that provides conservation services for SIA’s permanent collections, as well as for sister archives and special collections within the Smithsonian community. Primarily I have worked on field books, paper objects from the National Museum of Natural History (NMNH).  As my time here is ending, I thought I’d share with you all some of the work I’ve been doing: the field books of Harrison G. Dyar.

Harrison Gray Dyar (1826-1929) was a leading early 20^th century entomologist who greatly refined the description of moths and mosquitoes and our understanding of their life cycles. Well known and deeply opinionated, Dyar was able to devise calculations on how to measure the growth of insects, while also discovering new species.

Though to some Dyar’s scientific focus could seem dry, no one could say that of his personal life. Dyar married his first wife, Zella Peabody in 1889, and they had two children, Dorothy and Otis Dyar. By 1914, many suspected Dyar of having two families in Washington, D.C.—one with Zella and one with Wellesca Pollack Allen. Dyar obtained a divorce from his wife Zella in 1916 and married Allen in 1921, adopting Allen’s 3 sons,  Wilfred P., Harrison G., and Wallace P. (thought to be his) upon their marriage. Additionally, Dyar dug tunnels beneath his two homes in D.C. These tunnels extended as deep as 32 feet and were multi-level with concrete walls. Discovered in 1924, the press hypothesized their creation by German spies. Dyar publicly claimed them as his pastime. His intriguing personal life, however, did not disrupt his work for the USDA and the National Museum (now the Smithsonian’s National Museum of Natural History) as the Custodian of the National Lepidoptera Collections from 1897 until his death in 1929.

Mrs. Dyar Sr. Household Ledger, Book 22 pg 900. Department of Entomology, NMNH. SIA Acc.12-447. Photo by Blair Bailey.

 Dyar was a prolific researcher and created 29 “Blue Books” with notes on the numerous specimens he collected and observed. Dyar was thrifty despite being independently wealthy.  Some of these books were new and meant specifically for note taking, whereas others were originally designed for different purposes.  The latter included a day planner, numerous grocery store receipt books (where Zella wrote their grocery transactions–Dyar  wrote between her script), as well as his mother’s household ledger.

These varied types of books have necessitated a range of treatment types to ensure their readiness for digitization. Some books required simple mends to tears with Japanese paper (thin, long fibered paper known for flexible strength) and wheat starch paste, while making sure all of his inserted notes (such as on the backs of checks) are in their own safe little envelopes. Some inserts even contained beautiful watercolors of the specimens! During this process, I have grown to understand Dyar’s working method. He does not number his pages, but places them in chronological order of his numbered specimens and records his observations. It took working on a few books before both the cataloger and I  figured this out!

Female Nude Cutout Insert, Book 22. Department of Entomology, NMNH. SIA Acc.12-447 Photo by Kirsten Tyree.	Specimen Watercolors, Book 18 insert at pg 555. Department of Entomology, NMNH. SIA Acc.12-447. Photo by Blair Bailey.

Blair Repairing a Torn Page, 8/14/2012.  Photo by Janelle Batkin

This knowledge was extremely helpful when working with other books that necessitate more extensive care, for example, those with pages that have ripped free from the binding, are out of order, and are in danger of being lost. These books required more time as I needed to disbind the book into its individual pamphlets and then resew it. (For further details on this process, check out an awesome earlier Field Book Project blog post by conservator Anna Friedman!). This process is particularly satisfying as I know I have improved the longevity of the object, while also aiding in the researcher’s understanding of the object.

As my time here winds down and I finish the Dyar collection, it has reminded me of the many shapes, sizes, and ways field notebooks are created by different scientists. I thought I’d share some of the variety with you all that I have been so fortunate to work with this summer. I hope you enjoy seeing them as much as I have enjoyed working on them!

 

Resources

Epstein, Marc E. and Pam Henson. (1992). Digging for dyar: The man behind the myth. The American Entomologist, 38(3), 148-169.

The Art in Field Books

By Lesley Parilla, Field Book Project

Cover page of Sir John Kirk’s Butterflies collected in the Shire Valley, East Africa, part of the Russell E. Train Africana Collection at the Joseph F. Cullman 3rd Library of Natural History, Smithsonian Institution.

I recently had the opportunity to spend a week cataloging items from the Russell E. Train Africana collection housed at the Joseph F. Cullman 3rd Library in the National Museum of Natural History. The collection, which became part of the Library holdings in 2004 (see Smithsonian Library’s blog from 2010), is a unique combination of books, objects, and archival material documenting expeditions and people of note that worked in Africa during the nineteenth and twentieth century.  Several of the diaries, maps, photographs, and sketches document the work of big game hunters whose specimen collections were later accessioned by collecting institutions across the United Kingdom. These were the types of materials I cataloged. Among these was a rare find for me: a field book that contains entomological specimens. The book in question was assembled by Sir John Kirk.

Page from Sir John Kirk’s text. Each butterfly specimen has a protective layer of material between it and the adjacent page. Specimen caption: “Cleopatra very rapid in flight. Caterpillars green, 4 spikes on head like coronet.”

Detail of butterfly in page above. Identified as “Charaxes Pollusc [sic]."

Sir John Kirk, born 1832, explored and worked in East Africa during the latter half of the nineteenth century in a number of capacities. He was trained in the field of medicine, but gained prominence for his work in diplomacy in East Africa and for his work with David Livingstone. He had strong interests in botany and zoology, a fact that is documented in his notes throughout his time on the continent.

His book is unique for a number of reasons. Most of us working on the Field Book Project have come across specimens in field books. These are usually dried, pressed plants, though I have found a molted snake skin. The specimens are sometimes pinned but often left loose in the notebooks. Kirk took extreme care when organizing and adhering these specimens.

Sir John Kirk’s work is also an amalgam of illustration and specimen. He collected butterflies, then removed the wings, pasted them to the book, and drew in the missing anatomy with ink, ameliorating any specimen color loss with paint. This combination of drawing and specimen may seem odd, until you see the result: a book that is far more art book than field book, and yet meets the definitions of both.

As seen below, his specimens look like hand painted illustrations.

Page of Sir John Kirk’s field book. Text on page states “A large family of these. Exceedingly beautiful. The colour [sic] on the tips should be mauve but no blue will pint(?) so only one of the colours that compose it is represented__blue added wd[sic] make mauve.”

Detail images of butterflies from text above.

The book includes varying levels of information, including binomial and genus names of identified butterflies, as well as descriptions explaining where they were found, population abundance, and information about appearance.

Interested in seeing the book yourself? The Joseph F. Cullman 3rd Library of Natural History is located at the National Museum of Natural History in Washington, DC. For information on hours and access, check out their website at: http://www.sil.si.edu/libraries/cullman/using.cfm.

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

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.

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.