III. FIELD STUDY
“Is not the biological laboratory which leaves out the ocean and the mountains and meadows a monstrous absurdity? Was not the greatest scientific generalization of your times reached independently by two men who were eminent in their familiarity with living things in their homes?”—Brooks, 1899, p. 41.
In taking up field work, or any other kind of complex study, a definite working plan is of much value. For this reason this subject deserves more than a mere mention. Such a plan greatly aids in keeping in mind the general aim of the study, and particularly the lesser aims which develop with the analysis of the subject. It further aids in the proper orientation and subordination of allied subjects which crowd in from all directions.
For many students it is a good plan to make out a general outline of any proposed study as soon as possible after the work has been started. In the beginning it is difficult to realize the radiating relations of a subject, and the attempt at such plans aids in the perception of these relationships and becomes an important guide. Such an outline will need several revisions, but these changes will come with a broadening and deepening grasp of the subject. Perhaps the greatest value of such a plan is that it facilitates the conscious effort to seek a definite goal by maintaining a standard of measurement.
In addition to a comprehensive analytical plan others are useful. Particularly is this true when several lines of work are being done simultaneously or when the work must be interrupted frequently. Under such circumstances even a daily program may aid in utilizing many of the fragments of time which are so easily lost. In this way incomplete observations, verifications, and similar small items which are time-consuming may be made. These plans apply with particular force to field study when several lines of observation are being driven abreast. I have found it profitable to keep memoranda on note slips which will recall items needing further attention, at certain places in the field or on certain subjects. Thus, for example, if plans are suddenly changed and another locality is visited, the proper note slips indicating the points for special study at such a place are quickly secured, and one can hasten to the field prepared for the work of the day. Of course, similar plans are applicable to many kinds of work.
To learn how to study in the field, and not simply to collect, is one of the most important habits which a field naturalist and the ecologist has to acquire. This is one which he must, to a large degree, master alone, without the ready access to assistance, as is usually the case in the laboratory study. It is also a subject about which it is difficult to give useful suggestions, other than those of the most general nature. Directions for collecting are, on the other hand, simpler and more accessible in the form of numerous manuals filled with practical suggestions.
Field study is not confined to observations alone, but to the securing of all kinds of evidence from the field which will aid in the interpretation of the field relations of animals. Thorough intimacy with the animals can only be acquired through repeated and prolonged excursions in the field. This may mean excursions at any hour of the day or night. Part of this familiarity is best acquired by an intensive study of some limited area or association, and by thus establishing a unit for comparison so that the differences in other places are more readily perceived and described.
Before selecting a limited area for study one should make a general examination of a much larger tract, so that one may be sure that the area selected is a fair sample and worthy of the special study. There are also many advantages in selecting areas little modified by man. Such modified areas may, to better advantage, be considered later; just as pathology should be studied after one is grounded in normal histology. Undoubtedly the normal, or its approximation, is the best foundation upon which to build, and here we have the educational argument for natural preserves for animals and their superiority over highly modified “parks” for the same purpose.
Having selected a locality, repeated and prolonged visits, careful observation, and description of the place and animals will enable one to acquire the desired familiarity. For the study of the behavior of the animals concerned many observations can be made by remaining quiet, carefully concealed, and recording all observations. This method is particularly applicable to animals which live in exposed places, such as many insects, birds, and mammals. For other kinds, only indirect methods of observation are possible, or only when under controlled conditions. For the indirect methods of observation many forms of traps have been devised, traps not intended merely to receive the dead animal, but those also which will secure the animal and reveal something of its behavior. For the study of the habits and behavior of such animals as live in the soil or under bark, etc., both extensive collecting and examination of the animals in vivaria will also be necessary.
Fortunately for the student of mammals, birds, and fishes we have excellent guides for the technique of study and photographing of individual and associated kinds in the works of Kearton (1907), Chapman (1900), Herrick (1905), and Reighard (1908). It is very desirable that these methods be applied to the interrelations among the animals of an association. The student of behavior in nature has much to learn from many excellent studies of animal behavior which have been carried on in recent years by laboratory students. Fortunately the line between these two methods of study is breaking down to the mutual advantage of each. The border line between these two methods will give excellent returns to any student well prepared in each line of work.
Another essential for good field work is a clear understanding of what ecological studies attempt to do. This implies some general conception of what is worth while ecologically; it assumes a point of view or other criterion which may be applied to test the trueness of one’s aim. The ecologist will meet with much more than ecological facts, but it is to these that he should give primary attention. These accessory facts, no matter how interesting in themselves, should not divert him from the main course. The ecologist must select from this mass of experience those facts, inferences, and conclusions which help in the interpretation of the responses of animals to their complete environment. It is thus evident why the ecologist must have a clearly defined aim, with criteria for estimating values, or he will be at the risk of dissipating his energies. This phase of our problem as applied to the studies of a geologist, but applying with equal force to the ecologist, has been concisely expressed by Van Hise (1904, pp. 611-612) as follows: “I have heard a man say: ‘I observe the facts as I find them, unprejudiced by any theory.’ I regard this statement as not only condemning the work of the man, but the position is an impossible one. No man has ever stated more than a small part of the facts with reference to any area. The geologist must select the facts which he regards of sufficient note to record and describe. But such selection implies theories of their importance and significance. In a given case the problem is therefore reduced to selecting the facts for record, with a broad and deep comprehension of the principles involved, a definite understanding of the rules of the game, an appreciation of what is probable and what is not probable; or else making mere random observations. All agree that the latter alternative is worse than useless, and therefore the only training which can make a geologist safe, even in his observations, is to equip him with such a knowledge of the principles concerned as will make his observations of value.”
Early in field work one should learn that the collection of specimens is not the primary aim of excursions, that specimens are only one kind of facts, but that field study should be devoted to the accumulation of specimens, and to observations on the habits, activities, interrelations, and responses of animals, as well as to all facts, inferences, and suggestions which are likely to be of use in the interpretation of the problems studied.
We sometimes hear that reflections upon the work should be reserved for the return to the laboratory or study. This advice seems to be based upon the assumption that study in the field is not particularly stimulating and suggestive. On the other hand deliberating interpretatively in the midst of the problems under consideration is one of the most favorable conditions possible for the improvement of the quality and quantity of one’s work. It should be recalled in this connection that Darwin and Wallace’s evolutionary theory did not originate in the laboratory, but while in the field in the midst of their studies, while working reflectively upon their observations and collections, as Brooks indicates in the quotation at the beginning of this chapter. The classic case of Bates discovering mimicry in his London study instead of in the forests of Brazil is to some minds not an argument for laboratory study, but one for field study. There are but few subjects which have suffered more from the preponderating influence of the laboratory.
To be sure, it may require more time to study in the field than if one collects specimens only, but it is economical in the long run. There are, of course, certain phases of more indirect observation which can be done best in the study or laboratory, but at present, field study, as contrasted with collecting, is a phase of effort urgently needing emphasis.
The processes of observation and field study and note taking are so intimately related that taking notes becomes one of the essential parts of careful observation. This is also one of the most difficult habits to acquire. The beginner is inclined to write them up, especially field notes, in the evening after his return from the field. Such notes are generally brief, lack details, and are usually of little value. Therefore the safest course to pursue is to describe fully whatever seems of value, then to go over these facts again and by further observations increase the number of items noted several times. These observations should be recorded as soon as made, for generally the lack of notes means a lack of detailed observation. Some observations can be made only at long intervals, even of many years, others only with the return of another cycle of behavior, or of another season, and still others cannot be repeated. It is such considerations as these which emphasize the need of pursuing the safest course and recording instantly and fully all observations when made. An excess of notes is of very rare occurrence. In the effort to write carefully worded notes one has a very important check upon the tendency toward hasty observation, because such a description requires one to think over the observation before it can be expressed. This deliberation is thus made at the time when reobservation can be made to the best advantage, and calls attention to the weak points to which special consideration may perhaps be given a moment later, and thus affords a chance to complete the observation. Comstock (Insect Life, 1897, p. 323) has well summed up the taking of notes as follows: “Fill your notebook with descriptions, but digest them carefully, sifting out for publication only those that exhaustive study and repeated observation prove to be valuable. In making observations be sure you are right and then look again.” And again as Van Hise (Science, N. S., Vol. XVI, p. 326) has said, “The difference between bad observation and good observation is that the former is erroneous; the latter is incomplete.”
Notes are generally taken in one of two forms, in a book or on loose slips of paper or cards (Hopkins, 1893; Sanderson, 1904). It seems to be very generally agreed that if a book is used it should be of small size, of about 4 × 6 inches, so that it may be conveniently carried in the pocket. For a permanent record such books are a great convenience when once indexed. But when using such notes, while preparing a report, they are not so convenient as the note slips, unless one limits such a report to the form of a narrative. About ten years ago the writer began using a form of notebook in which an aluminum cover held the loose note slips. Thus while in the field one has the advantage of a book with a firm writing surface, and also that of the loose-leaf plan. This form of cover is now used by a number of field naturalists. The disadvantage of the slips not being bound might be remedied in part by using some form of punched slips which are convenient for binding.
Each one must decide for himself which form of recording notes answers his needs most satisfactorily. There are advantages in uniformity, but with the variable nature of work, it is sometimes very convenient to use both methods of recording.
Some students have no method of recording their observations or reflections upon their lines of interest. This seems to be unwise and suggests a method of business without bookkeeping. The efficiency of some students is greater than that of others, not so much because they possess superior mental ability, but because they have superior methods of preserving whatever useful ideas occur to them, while the others, from their lack of records, have no cumulative store upon which to draw. This is an important form of capital. Note keeping is readily seen to consist not only of observations, but also of suggestions, inferences, conclusions, and reflections of any kind which will facilitate methods of work and the interpretation of the facts.
In describing environments, it is desirable to use the same general method for different localities so that the descriptions may be comparable and show some degree of standardization. This method has been found very useful in taxonomic studies and has similar advantages here. A brief general statement of the most conspicuous features may precede, and be followed by detailed descriptions. The order may well vary with individual workers, but a uniform method is desirable throughout any single piece of work and has obvious advantages. Thus one practical plan applied to a forest habitat is, to describe the substratum, the soil, rock, etc., then the forest litter of organic débris, then the boles of the trees and the forest crown and its character, and finally the operation of those agencies which are causing changes in the forest and which will perpetuate or change it in the future. No practical forester would be content to shut his eyes to the future crop of wood, and in the study of animal habitats we must not be content to rest below such a commercial standard. To some this seems very theoretical, and yet a farmer who counts upon a crop in five months, or a forester, in fifty years, is not so branded, and the ecologist need have no fear in using such practical methods. In other words, we should consider the future stages of the developing habitat and learn to perceive the evidences which show in which direction development or change is taking place; or to determine the “orderly sequence of external nature.” Not only should the future be considered, but we should strive also to read the record backward and interpret the past in terms of processes now in operation. In this respect the point of view of the geologist who interprets the past in terms of present processes may well merit our attention. To understand our habitats they must be studied not only in their length and breadth, but also in depth—past and future—as they have all three dimensions.
The preceding remarks bear equally well upon observations of the activities of animals in nature, on account of the absence of controlled conditions, for these methods have almost as much significance as the study of the environments themselves; and equally careful observations and descriptions are essential, if the detailed processes of animal activities and their transformations are to be recorded.
An experienced naturalist finds that from year to year the amount of notes which he takes increases rapidly, and in a very direct ratio to the progress which he makes in his study. Good note taking is not a passive process, but one which calls for an alert mind. The prolonged interest which is necessary to secure detailed observations implies such a frame of mind. Every one soon tires of any subject unless new features are constantly being discovered.
In the description of the associations in any given habitat, the problem is much simplified if one has a clear idea of dominance, knows how to recognize it, and understands some of its main implications. The dominant forms are the most common and powerful individuals in the association. They may or may not be the most conspicuous, from a superficial view. Conspicuousness may depend upon size, but dominance refers to large absolute numbers and to influence exerted. We may profitably compare an association of animals in a given habitat to a play upon the stage. The environment corresponds to the stage. The dominant members of the association correspond to the leading characters, the secondary species, always present, to the essential but subordinate characters. The individual animals adjust themselves to one another, especially to the dominant forms, and to the environment, as the personalities in the play adjust themselves to the dominant characters, to one another, and to the environment. In both groups some individuals are dominant, some used and useful, some are tolerated, others pick up the crumbs, still others are predatory or parasitic, and all must be mutually adjusted to one another and to the environment.
The number of dominant species within an association is relatively limited, a fact which holds for both plants and animals. A knowledge of perhaps 200 or 300 species of animals (and 150 plants) will enable one to work advantageously in many localities (as in the state of Illinois). Of this number perhaps not more than about one half or one third can be considered dominant. Every one who has tried to make extensive local lists of species knows that it requires many years of collecting to secure a large number of species. These rare species are generally of quite minor importance ecologically. Considerations of this character should be encouraging to those who may be intimidated by the idea of large numbers of species. Then, of course, it should be remembered that there are many aspects of ecological work which do not meet with this variety of animals.