Well, earlier this year I wrote another article about it for the September/October issue of the Canadian Museums Association magazine, MUSE, which came out this month.  The idea was straightforward — as per an informal note from MUSE editor, Rebecca Mackenzie, I was to just share the exhibit team’s “views on how outsiders can help a community achieve their exhibit goals and keep things authentic…”

But the execution proved tricky.

How do you talk about a team of white city folks coming in to help an Indigenous community develop exhibits for their cultural centre without coming off as “white saviour”? We hadn’t acted in that capacity, and I’m confident the community hadn’t perceived us that way, but it was too easy for the telling of the story to sound that way to outsiders. I was stuck in the same dilemma I had been in when writing the exhibits — how do I get myself out of the way?

I took a couple runs at it, but it just wasn’t sitting right. The “how to” approach was wrong because what worked for us in this particular project in this particular community, was not universal. And I couldn’t really speak to the general case because this was our only project like this. I had no other points of reference. And I certainly couldn’t speak to the Inuit experience.

Photo: Blue Rhino Design

So I did what every writer suffering a crisis of faith should do. I called my editor. For those of you who aren’t writers (or maybe even if you are), editors do more than just read and mark up your article. They are there to bring clear-eyed perspective to help guide and shape your piece. I needed that.

I raised my concerns with Rebecca and we talked about ways to approach to the article. But more importantly, we talked about the challenges and successes of project itself and how the exhibit team and the Nunatsiavut staff and community developed a relationship that successfully carried us through a long two-year project. As I talked, she called out details that she thought readers would find interesting. I took notes.

In the end, her advice was solid — simply share our experience as a way to illustrate how museum experts and Indigenous communities can (not should) work together. The idea was to help other communities and museum professionals feel more confident in tackling these kinds of projects.

So I got started and a month or so later, I had a pretty solid draft to send Rebecca. I also ran it by Belinda Webb, our contact in Nunatsiavut, to make sure she was comfortable with what I wrote, and the Blue Rhino Design team for fact-checking. Belinda had no comments but the design team brought up some points that I needed to address. I rewrote a couple of paragraphs, sent it off to Rebecca, and that was that. Done!

To read the story (pdf), click here: Muse Magazine – Illusuak

Article provided courtesy of the Canadian Museums Association.

“This year, we counted over 1,750,000 adult birds compared to 760,000 last year, which is an increase of 130%. The number of chicks increased by over 600% from 120,000 in 2018 to 995,000 in 2019,” says Emmanuel Mgimwa, BirdLife’s Manager of the Lake Natron Ecotourism Project*. — BirdLife.org

Why am I suddenly reporting on Lake Natron? Because this is an important update to a post about Lake Natron that I wrote back in 2013. Here’s a short recap of that post —

Lake Natron is a shallow saline body of water that burns with alkalinity born of the Ol Doinyo Lengai volcano’s unique soda ash that has rained into its waters over the last 350,000 years. Almost as alkaline as ammonia, and as scalding as a cup of coffee, the waters of Lake Natron will blister skin, burn nostrils, blind eyes, and poison nearly any animal tempted to drink its water.

Lake Natron offers two things of interest. First, it is the source soda ash, a key component in glass manufacturing —

A soda ash mining plant (File photo, The East African)

Soda ash is cheaper to mine than to make, so any country finding itself sitting on a deposit stands to have a viable market for the resource. And that’s what happened in Tanzania where a deposit of some 460 billion cubic litres of soda ash was discovered in the Lake Natron Basin. Growing at a rate of 4 million cubic litres per year, it’s a seemingly endless supply.

Second, because it is a rich source of the cyanobacteria, Arthrospira fusiformis, at type of Spirulina, Lake Natron is the breeding ground for three quarters of Africa’s 2.5 million lesser flamingos (Phoenicopterus minor).

Lesser Flamingos. Photo: Flickr User: Steve Garvie (cc 2.0)

Impervious to the burning water, they come en masse to Lake Natron to eat the rich Spirulina. The birds swish their “upside down” beaks back and forth through the water, siphoning it through special filters that allow them to capture the algae. An adult lesser flamingo consumes up to about 72 grams dry weight (DW) of cyanobacteria per day and in return, the bacteria pass along their rosy pigment to the birds’ feathers.

Back when I wrote that piece, a battle was raging between the government of Tanzania, who wanted to build a soda ash plant in the basin and conservation officials and environmentalists who were rightfully concerned about the well-being of the flamingos and the other species that count on Lake Natron for their survival.

At the same time, Masai residents were developing a budding tourism industry offering eco-tourists dramatic scenery, spectacular waterfalls, wildlife safaris, and fishing and hunting, all under the mandatory watchful eyes of paid local guides.

“We do not want any project which will interfere with tourism. Our area is dry so we can’t farm. Tourism is our farm; it is puts food on our tables. It helps us educate our children. Why is the Government insisting on building a soda ash plant?” –Mary Saiguray of Ngare Sero Women’s Cultural Boma (BirdLife.org, Sept. 2012)

The issue went unresolved until 2018, when the Government of Tanzania abandoned its plans to construct a soda ash factory on the site. Meanwhile, because of the ongoing collaboration among local communities, organizations, and government, the Lake Natron basin has become a thriving ecological region and a boon to the local economy.

“Over 152 women, 29 men and 71 youth have been trained in ecotourism management and how to run small businesses. The project will soon roll out a revolving fund to support small-scale entrepreneurs.” — BirdLife.org

And the flamingos, for now, are thriving.

** Header photo Richard Mortel, CC 2.0.

During the winter, the main visitors were the red-bellied woodpecker (above), downy, and hairy woodpeckers, chickadees, blue jays, and white-breasted nuthatches. They were particular about what they liked in the seed feeder and threw a lot of the seeds and corn on the ground. As well, the woodpeckers were messy, dropping chunks of suet.

This spillage brought a regular flock of mourning doves, northern juncos, and a pair of cardinals — not to mention, grey squirrels — to forage on the ground underneath the feeders.

How many mourning doves can you see here?

The birds all tended to feed at around the same time, so we’d cycle between no birds and all the birds, but even when traffic was high, it was orderly. Some birds would feed, others would wait and except for some mild bickering, things went smoothly.

As the weather warmed and days got longer, new birds began to arrive. We were happy when our first pair of rose-breasted grosbeaks appeared, and later another pair. Soon the goldfinches, various warblers, brown-headed cowbirds and others showed up. Then, to our absolute delight, a pair of Baltimore orioles!

It was truly thrilling to see this blazing orange bird we’d only ever glimpsed in the woods. Sometimes the male would sit on the feeder support bar and sing. I don’t think the female ever landed on the feeder, but I’d usually spot her nearby. Later a second male oriole began showing up.

At the same time, beneath the feeder, joining the ground-feeding doves, sparrows, and cardinals, the chipmunks and red squirrels arrived. We see few red squirrels at the feeder in winter; they seem to stick to the trees. And chipmunks spend their winters underground, so we don’t see those. But now here they were, all at once.

It is not normal for red squirrels and chipmunks to gather in such numbers. Red squirrels, particularly, are fiercely territorial, so seldom cross paths while foraging. Chipmunks are less territorial, but they do stick to confined home ranges that only overlap slightly. Now I was seeing two or three red squirrels and up to five chipmunks, all scrapping over fallen food. They’d eat, chase each other, and sometimes come into physical contact.

The same was true for many of the birds we were seeing at the feeder. While not strictly territorial, male orioles will defend areas around their nests and their mates against intruders. Male rose-breasted grosbeaks and male cardinals chase off other males of their species. The female grosbeak, I observed, was quick to chase other birds off the suet feeder. And woodpeckers, who had been feeding in relative peace all winter, were now  regularly fighting over the feeder.

All of this was recipe for disaster.

First of all, fights were breaking out that never would have occurred in a natural setting because these animals never would have overlapped. This increases injury and stress to the animals, which can make them vulnerable to illness.

Second, because of the fighting, we were experiencing more window strikes. Fortunately, to my knowledge, only one bird died hitting the window — a male bay-breasted warbler. But there were an uncomfortable number of cases where birds glanced heavily off the glass and had to perch on a branch or rest on the ground before taking flight again.

As well, male birds who were attracted to the feeder — especially the cardinals, orioles, and grosbeaks — would see their reflections in the window and fly down to the sill to do battle with the intruder. Usually these were low-level attacks, lots of fluttering and pecking on the glass, but I worried about an angry bird flying in too quickly and striking the glass.

And finally, in scattered populations, birds with infectious diseases would not normally come into contact with many other birds, so diseases spread slowly. But the abnormal density of animals at and under the feeder increases the risk of disease spreading among them.

The four diseases that most frequently affect birds that use feeders are: salmonella, trichomoniasis, aspergillosis, and avian pox. All of these diseases are transmitted from one bird to another at feeding stations, especially when overcrowding occurs. — Massachusetts Audubon Society

As well, once the weather warms, the feeder itself can be a source of infection. For instance, trichomoniasis a parasite that infects finches, flourishes in moist bird seed.

Usually transmitted at backyard feeders, finch trichomoniasis has not yet been detected in the United States. It has, however, been found in Canada’s Atlantic Provinces, where it has killed purple finches and American goldfinches.  — National Wildlife Foundation (Feb 2019)

So on that note, I’m shutting down the bird restaurant until fall. I’ll miss the variety of birds outside my window, but it’s good to be reminded that bird feeders are for us, not the birds. Except in extreme circumstances birds don’t need our help finding food, and in fact, may be better off without us.

I don’t know why, but they feel like one of those mythical animals you never get to see. Like most of my first encounters, I remember my first porcupine sighting. I was driving along Route 11 in northern New York when I noticed an unusual shape in a tree off the side of the road. I pulled over and backed up along the shoulder, and sure enough — porcupine! These were pre-cellphone and pre-digital camera days, so I didn’t get pictures, but I remember being excited to see, in person, an animal I had only ever read about.

The North American porcupine (Erethizon dorsatum) is the second largest rodent in North America after beavers. It’s known for its 30,000 barbed quills, which, despite popular belief, it cannot throw. It is one of eighteen species of New World porcupines and is the only one that can withstand northern temperatures.

porcupine (n.)

c. 1400, porke despyne, from Old French porc-espin (early 13c., Modern French porc-épic), literally “spiny pig,” from Latin porcus “hog” (from PIE root *porko- “young pig”) + spina “thorn, spine”.   — Etymology Online

Despite the fact that porcupines are common in the region, it would be another 20 years before I’d see one again. Not long after we moved to this house, I looked out my bedroom window and again noticed an unusual shape in a tree. I grabbed the binoculars and sure enough — porcupine! And while it was high in the tree, the tree was low, so I was able to get close and take some very cute photos.

I followed the tracks of that first porcupine through the snow and discovered that it lived in the cave behind our house. Since then we’ve seen porcupines on our property and in the surrounding acres — maybe a half dozen individuals.

This shows the porcupine cave (the larger dark hole) in relation to our house ( the grey blur just left of centre behind the trees). This cave has since been abandoned, but the porcupine must still live nearby. We see it often.

You can identify porcupine caves because the porcupine deposits all its poop outside the cave door. This one is in the cliff behind the beaver pond.

Porcupines are solitary creatures, so I was surprised to catch these two on the trail cam last year. Listen to them! They come on screen at about the :20 mark.

So what the heck is going on?

It turns out that female porcupines are receptive to mating for only eight to twelve hours a year. So for three or four days leading up to her receptive period, the male has to guard her from other males. He does this by following her around and serenading her, hoping to convince her that he’s the one she’s been waiting for.

And persistent he was! Here they are crossing driveway …he’s still talking …

And the front yard  …still talking …

As you might imagine, mating is a delicate affair for porcupines, but not as prickly as you might expect.

When she is ready to mate, she indulges in a kind of dance with the chosen male, where they both rise on their hind feet to embrace, all the while whining and grunting. Sometimes they place their paws on each other’s shoulders and rub their noses together; then they may cuff each other affectionately on the head and finally push one another to the ground. — Hinterland Who’s Who

Then the female flattens her quills and moves her tail so the male can mount her, sometimes using a no-hands approach. If all goes well, after about 30 weeks — around May in our region — she gives birth to a single young. The baby is born with eyes open, emerged teeth, and soft quills that harden within hours. By fall it will be independent and left to survive the winter on its own.

During the winter, porcupines eat the inner bark of trees and evergreen needles, preferring those from white pines and hemlocks, both of which are plentiful here. Last year this porcupine spent the better part of November and December in our front yard. We’d see it cross the yard each morning and evening, both on the cams and in person. It had a handful of trees it would climb and feed on. Eventually it moved on, presumably to forage in a new area.

In the spring porcupines prefer sugar maple buds, a rich source of protein. But when the leaves mature, they move on to the inner bark of basswood, aspen, and beech saplings. Along with this, they will eat more herbaceous foods such as grass, dandelions, violets, and raspberry canes and leaves. In the fall they also turn to apples if there are orchards nearby.

These foods affect the porcupine’s sodium balance and cause the animal to crave salt. In remote areas they find salt in pond lilies, water plants, mud flats, and even animal carcasses and bones. But near humans, their craving results in their infamous behaviour of chewing wooden structures, tool handles, and many other surprising items. But road salt is the most dangerous to porcupines, increasing their risk of being hit by a car when they consume road salt over-spray and runoff. This craving also puts people at risk —

[The porcupines] had nibbled through a brake hose… a problem I discovered on the way to work the next morning, when my foot went to the floor without slowing my pickup at all. I was grateful for a long driveway and a hand brake. The truck—our only vehicle at the time—was out of commission for three days while a replacement hose was located.  —Tovar Cerulli 

So porcupines get a bad rap for all that chewing, especially when it comes to human structures, automobiles, and forest management. In the past, people over-hunted porcupines to reduce their damage. But, in areas where porcupines are over-abundant and do the most damage, this is often because of the decline in one of their main predators — fishers.

As I mentioned in my earlier post, fishers are the most effective and specialized porcupine predators in North America. They attack by biting the porcupine’s head or by flipping it over to expose its unprotected belly. Wildlife experts have found that re-introducing fishers to areas where porcupines are a nuisance is an effective way to control porcupine populations.

Since we and our neighbours have seen fishers on our cams, I figure one was probably responsible for these porcupine remains we found by the trail last October.

These remains were from last October. Not much left but the tail, bones, and quills. There was a whole pile of quills next to a nearby log that would have been treacherous to step in!

This is what’s left as of this week — just bright clean bones. I have searched all over for the skull but no luck. It must have been dragged away early on.

Sad for that porcupine but good for the fisher.  And meanwhile, the photo in the header was taken in the same area as these bones just this week, so the balance of nature continues.

Overall, North American porcupines are doing well. They are considered a Species of Least Concern by the IUCN and in most places they are thriving. However, in Mexico they are considered to be in danger of extinction due to low densities, poaching, and habitat loss. Because of this, parts of their range now fall within protected areas.

So let’s take care of porcupines Watch out for them on roadways and be patient in the spring and fall when their diet causes them to chew your cottage, decking, or sweaty wooden hand tools and canoe paddles. You can put out a mineral lick which may draw their attention away from your home and belongings. But at the same time, still put small items out of their reach and, where you can, cover lower sections of wooden structures with wire or metal.  And finally, if your car is kept outdoors make sure to check your brake hoses and other critical components that might be covered in tempting road salt.

Done right, we can safely share our space with our prickly little friends.

(I was going to include skunks in that description, but I just learned that skunks have been reclassified to their own family. A good reminder to never rely on info you memorized decades ago.)

Today I want to introduce you to another member of that family: the American mink (Neovison vison).  

Mink are a medium-size mustelid — about .6 to 1 kilogram — bigger than many weasels, but not as large as otters. They have semi-webbed feet and non-retractable claws which make them excellent swimmers and climbers. With those skills, these semi-aquatic carnivores can prey on fish, crayfish, frogs, small mammals, birds, and eggs. They don’t stray far from water and often follow streams or gullies when traveling.

American mink are the source of that rich silky pelt we think of when we talk about mink coats and stoles. Unfortunately for them, their dense underfur and dark glossy coats are not only warm and waterproof, but also beautiful to humans. While Indigenous peoples have long trapped and used mink for clothing and accessories, the commercial demand for pelts eventually outpaced the wild mink population and led to an entire industry of mink farming, a practice which has raised the ire of animal activists.

Aside: No matter how opposed you might be to mink farming (or any other captive wildlife), please DO NOT encourage organizations that free the animals. Not only do most of the animals die terrible deaths, but letting loose hundreds or thousands of carnivores all at once, wreaks havoc on the local environment and nearby farms. Longtime readers might remember, I wrote a very angry rant to animal liberationists who freed (thus destroyed) a pack of captive wild wolves.

We’ve spotted the mink a handful of times on our property and have seen signs of its feeding near the lake. But our first video capture surprised us! We have a pipe that runs under our house. It starts under the front porch and comes out under our back screen porch about a foot above the ground.

The front porch end is at grade. At some point we noticed that every time we pushed the gravel up against the hole, we’d come out a day or so later and it would be dug out. Since we already had a security cam over the porch, we re-positioned it to point to the hole and then waited …..

We’ve never seen the mink there again, but the hole continues to be dug out almost every night by another animal, which makes us laugh every time because we have no idea why it’s doing that. In fact, that animal showed up minutes after this video was taken. I’ll just leave that as a teaser and post more video later.

Our second video encounter was more predictable. We had captured a short video of the mink exploring around our small deck near the dock. So when we found a dead fish washed up on the shore, so we put it on the deck to see if we could entice it back. Sure enough, that night ….

What surprised us about that shot was that the mink carried the fish away. We expected to catch it (or maybe an otter or raccoon) eating it on the spot. I mean, look at the size of that fish compared to the mink!

So far, that’s it for cam captures of the mink. But we have found footprints in the snow and other signs, so know it’s in the area, hopefully breeding and thriving here in our little slice of wilderness.

** Header photo taken by me in our side yard on a very foggy morning. It’s the first time we ever saw it and remains one of my favourite shots.

Your main character is an investigative journalist. In this scene she has to talk to a scientist in order to solve a mystery. So she hops in her car and drives to …where? And talks to …whom?

Well, if it’s up to stock photo companies, she drives to a lab and talks to a white dude looking at (or drinking from?) beakers of coloured water (don’t ask me what’s happening in that first photo):

A Google image search adds a little more diversity. We now have people of colour, women, and microscopes mixed in with our white dudes with beakers. Still, everyone is in a lab taking questionable enough actions that they have been mocked widely.

But why, you ask, the focus on stock photos and Google images? Because stock photos are no worse than stock characters in fiction. How we think about scientists (or any career for that matter) is formed by what we see in the world. If your readers’ only exposure to science is through media, they may not know what real scientists look like or do …and where they do it. So it’s up to you to help them.

On that note, today I want to introduce you to some people and hashtags to help you model your characters after actual living scientists. I urge you to click the hashtags to see more of these great people and the work they do. My hope is that when you’re done, you’ll see that your novel’s scientists can be literally anyone!

Hashtag: Twitter: #ActualLivingScientist,; Instagram: #actuallivingscientist

Pinned tweet needed an update:
Hi, I'm Kari. I study environmental and genetic influences on early life history in fishes, and wild-hatchery fish interactions. Used to work with sculpin and sturgeon; now I work with Columbia River salmon. #ActualLivingScientist #DressLikeAWoman pic.twitter.com/QBjZCtHIVM

— Kari J. Dammerman (@KDFishBiologist) August 7, 2018

Women

Hashtag: Twitter #WOCinSTEM #WomenInSTEM #WomenInScience, #LatinasInSTEM

https://twitter.com/GeoLatinas/status/1116796380259942400

Instagram #womeninstem

 

View this post on Instagram

 

@travelling_with_science is a doctoral student in physics working on a joint PhD between KU Leuven in Belgium and Catholic University in Brescia, Italy. Previously, she completed a masters degree in condensed matter physics from La Sapienza University in Rome. Her research focuses on modifying the electronic properties of graphene using diazonium (N2+) molecules.

Beyond the Binary

Hashtags Twitter #LGBTQInSTEM, #QueerInSTEM,  #LGBTScience

Hi, I’m Steph, and this is my first #PrideMonth being out as a bisexual aerospace engineer. It took 28 years, but I’m glad to celebrate this year as a member of the LGBTQ+ community.

Feels good, kids. #WomenInSTEM #LGBTQinSTEM pic.twitter.com/Na6pN3Vq4Y

— Steph Evz (@StephEvz43) June 4, 2018

Instagram: 500 Queer Scientists, (also see the 500 Queer Scientists website) #QueerinSTEM

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by 500 Queer Scientists (@500queerscientists)

BIPOC (Black, Indigenous, People of Colour)

Twitter: #IndigenousSTEM,  #NativeSTEM, #NativeinSTEM, #BlackinSTEM

Looking forward to reading about all the @STEMsuperheros! I’m honored to be included in the review process (see back cover). My favorite STEMSuperhero is the amazing Sandra Begay, #Navajo #NativeinSTEM civil engineer pic.twitter.com/a7vXZN131R

— Suzanne Singer (@SuzSinger) April 19, 2019

This Friday afternoon, we are excited to host our 2019 Bromery Scholar, Dr. Ludmilla Aristilde (@Cornell) for a lecture on Molecular Connections in the Cycling of Water and Carbon in Terrestrial Ecosystems: https://t.co/3B8U2tH46B#womeninstem #blackinstem #geosciences #umass pic.twitter.com/cS1v4xLE69

— UMass Geosciences (@UMassGeo) April 15, 2019

Disabled, Differently-abled

#DisabledInSTEM

This was a great adventure for many reasons, not the least of which being my first field work with my service dog, Wallace. Being #DisabledInSTEM is hard on many levels, incl literal accessibility issues with field work. It was challenging, but we made it work for both of us 7/ pic.twitter.com/ZXc0Hb6ItS

— Dr. Juniper L. Simonis (@JuniperLSimonis) April 6, 2019

I’m Keirsten and I’m an Anthropologist! I’m an #ActualLivingScientist and I #DressLikeAWoman when I do fieldwork. I’m also #DisabledinSTEM! pic.twitter.com/MkX15vHfN0

— Space Anthro (@SpaceAnthro) February 4, 2017

And finally, if the scientist in your story has more than a cameo, remember, scientists have interesting lives outside of science. Go ahead and click that link and scroll the nearly 700 photos of more actual living scientists. Open a few of them to see how those people really live — what they do in their lives. You’ll quickly see it’s not all about lab benches and beakers.

** Header images, L-R (CC 2.0):

• Tameka Dandridge built in LEGO by Courtney Celley/USFWS.
• Carey Edwards of Iron River National Fish Hatchery built in LEGO by Courtney Celley/USFWS.
• Aleshia Kenney built in LEGO by Courtney Celley/USFWS.

Or not.

Screen capture from the video.

I’d ask you to take a closer look at that video, but I don’t want it to get any more hits, so you’ll just have to trust me when I point out that the chimp is in a room… in a house. And that house belongs to a guy who keeps, breeds, and exploits wild animals for publicity and profit.

“Bhagavan “Doc” Antle is the owner and operator of T.I.G.E.R.S. (The Institute of Greatly Endangered and Rare Species), also known as Myrtle Beach Safari, a wild animal attraction in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina.” — Motherboard

I’m not going to go into all the reasons that Mr. Antle’s antics with wildlife are wrong or bad. He’s been covered a number of times in the media and if you’re interested, you can read more about him here. This paragraph from that article sums up one of the issues well —

“Zoo experts and animal welfare activists, in turn, accuse Antle of causing “the suffering of hundreds of tigers in the U.S” that “end up living miserable lives in conditions compassionate people who care about animals would consider inhumane.” All in the name of something the public largely cannot resist – adorable animal encounters.”

I’ve already blogged on the problem of roadside zoos, the laws (and lack thereof) surrounding captive wildlife, and why keeping such animals is dangerous to people and animals alike.

Instead, today I want to talk about those irresistible “adorable animal encounters” and try to make clear why clicking “like” and sharing these videos and images does a disservice to animals.

We live in a world where anyone can become an online sensation or “influencer” simply by posting content that regularly goes viral. In a never-ending social media feedback loop, the more viral the posts, the more followers a person gets, and so the more viral their posts go. Pretty soon, every post they make travels across social media platforms accumulating likes and re-posts by the thousands and even millions.

And, by definition, that means the influencer is shaping how millions of followers think about beauty, fitness, food, parenting, and other lifestyle choices. It should come as no surprise that even pets can become influencers.

So when people like Mr. Antle start creating viral videos of chimpanzees watching Planet of the Apes in a movie theatre and photos of people hugging lions and tigers and ligers and bears (many of which, by the way, are drugged for photo shoots), that sends a message that these animals are friendly and safe (they are not) and are thriving in their unnatural environments.

A healthy red-eyed tree frog in a normal position. Photo: Wikimedia Commons public domain, by Careyjamesbalboa (Carey James Balboa)

This true for many of the “cute” wildlife photos and videos we see shared across the internet. Remember those happy little tree frogs holding leaves as umbrellas? And the ones where the frogs are apparently dancing and, in one case, supposedly giving the photographer the finger? And frogs with snails on their heads? So funny, right?

And entirely staged–and often cruel. Those dancing frogs’ arms and legs were manipulated with wire or string and posed. In some cases, their hands and feet may have been forcibly fastened to the objects they appear to be holding.

Plus, frogs need water to stay naturally moist—the thought of shielding themselves from a light rain likely wouldn’t ever even cross their mind. But the heart-breaking part comes in the final assertion; the frog already doesn’t look to be in great condition, but the red bruises on its legs are pretty definite signs of potential injury. — Gizmodo

Did you like and share that “inspirational” video (intentionally not linked here) of a baby grizzly bear struggling up a steep snowy embankment to its mama? Or did you stop and think about how that film was made? Why that mother left the cub behind? What she was trying to avoid?

“For instance, at just over one minute into the video, the camera zooms extremely close to the bears. At the same time, the mother appears to look directly at the remote-controlled helicopter, and even appears to swat at the device—which then seems to cause the cub to fall back down the slope..” — Jason Bittel, National Geographic

Drone photographers have become a huge issue in wildlife protection. Where physical proximity or a zoom lens used to be necessary to get dramatic wildlife footage, now anyone with a drone can harass and endanger wildlife from above. And every time we get dewy-eyed over one of those videos and share it, we exacerbate the problem. Even after criticism, that grizzly video was popular enough that it is earning money for ad clicks on Youtube.

Mama bears do not like to be far from their cubs. Photo Credit: Frank van Manen / USGS (CC by 2.0)

Not only are the animals (and possibly the people) in those kinds of videos at risk, but the danger to other animals increases as well. In some cases they encourage the illegal pet trade. For instance, in the case of a viral video of children playing with lemur —

“What shocked the researchers was the fact that as the video began getting traction online, the volume of tweets of folks saying things such as “I want a pet lemur” and “where can I find one?” doubled exponentially.” — Mashable 

Of course, there will always be legit photos and videos of wildlife wandering onto people’s properties. And there are always going to be images of wildlife professionals handling and filming animals — veterinarians, zookeepers, biologists and the like, all of whom have training in safe wildlife handling and ethics.

But I’m asking you to be cautious about photos and videos of regular people treating wildlife as pets and of ordinary animals doing unnatural things. To help you out, here are some tips for spotting fake or exploitative photos and videos.

• Wild animals being approached or handled by non-professionals
• Drone footage of wildlife taken by non-professionals
• Normally dangerous animals being depicted as harmless pets
• Photos and selfies of people posing with wild animals, especially dangerous ones
• Wild animals in unnatural positions or exhibiting unnatural behavior
• Photos of different wildlife species posed together or stacked on top of each other
• Wild animals living in people’s homes, riding in cars, walking on leashes, or being treated or dressed as children.

And don’t worry if you’ve already made the mistake of sharing a fake or exploitative image. Even professionals have been fooled. While the Smithsonian photo contest judges liked this ant photo enough to declare it a finalist in their photo contest, it took a sharp-eyed entomologist to point out that those kinds of ants don’t do that. When confronted, the photographer explained that “he fed seeds from different plants to the ants and lifted, placed, and stacked the ants on the branch himself. Once the ants were in these positions, he took the photograph.”

So just do your best to take a minute to think about the photo or film, resist the “like” button, and don’t share things that might be exploitative.

Aside from a dozen or so clips simply titled, “Raccoon”, I have clips with names like, “Two raccoons on the porch”, “Fat raccoon”, “Raccoon family on the dock”, “Raccoons at the BBQ”, and “Raccoon on bird feeder.” Such is life with raccoons.

And really, I’m fine with that. We live in the woods. They are part of the package. And they aren’t really a nuisance for us. We store garbage safely in the garage and take it a kilometre up the road to a metal bin once a week. A slight adjustment of the bird feeder keeps them (but not squirrels) off of that. And my vegetable garden? Well everyone raids that making gardening untenable here anyway.

I was only ever concerned once. In the spring of 2017, this young raccoon showed up at the bird feeder.

As you can see, there is something terribly wrong with it. It eventually staggered off into the woods, presumably to die.  I promptly emailed my neighbours with kids or dogs and warned them about it, letting them know that it would not be able to outrun dogs or avoid kids who might try to approach it.

As sad as those videos are, it’s always advised to leave sick animals alone. Raccoons in particular carry several diseases which are dangerous to humans.

One is a roundworm called Baylisascaris procyonis that infects about 40% of Ontario raccoons. The adult worms do not cause illness in raccoons, but their eggs are shed in raccoon feces where they can infect other animals, including (but rarely) humans. About a dozen people have have died as a result of this parasite — mainly children.

Also, of course, is raccoon rabies which can spread to humans through the raccoon’s saliva via bite wounds or on contact with open wounds, eyes, or mouth. Raccoon rabies has been largely controlled in Ontario, but with outbreaks still occurring in Quebec, it’s something to be aware of. Again, incidences of human infection are rare but that’s partially due to public education and safe practices.

So, rural raccoons are a fact of life — something we can live with as long as we maintain safe wildlife practices. Meanwhile, city raccoons, as anyone familiar with Toronto knows, are an ongoing nuisance — creatures who have defied all efforts to prevent them from taking over the city. In fact, the “Raccoon capital of the world” had to learn the hard (and expensive way) that trickier green bins just made for smarter raccoons.

The $31-million contract gave us roughly half a million bins, a decade of maintenance and a promise: that raccoons would have great difficulty penetrating the clever new receptacles. City politicians called the bins “raccoon-proof.”  — Toronto Star

Or not —

I think my favourite parts of that video (besides the safe-cracking) are the happy noises the younger raccoons make when they see the door open.

But I want to leave you with one last human-raccoon dynamic that I haven’t covered here. This story completely blew me away. On the Caribbean islands of Guadeloupe, raccoons are revered and protected. They are actively fed and are allowed to steal what they want from yards, homes, and outdoor establishments. Raccoon images emblazon flags, restaurant signs, and government offices. And while it’s illegal to keep raccoons as pets, many folks secretly do.

The reason for the raccoon’s special place in Guadeloupe culture is an intriguing tale that stretches back to 1911, when a box with a dead raccoon in it showed up in Washington D.C. To hear the story of the Guadalupe raccoons, check out this RadioLab podcast. I promise, you won’t be disappointed.

Header Image: Canada Wildlife Federation; licensed for non-commercial use

This week I want to talk about how fiction writers depict nature.  Way back, when we all learned about describing scenes, we were taught to identify certain items with extra precision to give the reader a sense of time, place, and character.

In its simplest form, this means you don’t tell readers that Jasmine is watching TV. You tell them that Jasmine is watching Kill Bill. And as you describe Jasmine’s home, you identify specific items that tell readers more about Jasmine and her life — the rough-hewn oak floor, a pair of muddy Sorrels by the door, a double-barreled shotgun she calls Chekhov…

Good writers do this beautifully, striking a careful balance between painting a rich scene and delivering long-winded descriptions. But even the best writers sometimes lose that attention to specifics the minute the scene shifts outdoors. Suddenly Jasmine is in a place where birds sing, trees line the road, flowers bloom, and ducks swim on a pond.

What kinds of birds, trees, flowers, or ducks, we will never know. The same way we would never know anything about Jasmine’s family if they sit down to dinner and eat food, sip drinks, and enjoy dessert.

The undescribed landscape. Image by Peter Heeling via Skitterphoto CC0; filtering, mine.

Some characters, like Jamie in this excerpt from The Girl in the Burning Boat, by Gregg Dunnett, don’t experience nature at all, even when they are in the middle of it — no cries of gulls, loud scattering of mallards, buzz of dragonflies, or splash of fish.

“I didn’t have anyone left to tell me [that buying a boat] was a stupid idea. So I bought her — could you untie us?” Jamie interrupted himself… Alice unwound the bowline and pulled the rope back into the boat. Jamie pushed off with one hand and steered expertly through the maze of moored boats and mooring buoys.

I read on to see if Jamie and Alice encountered any nature along the way, but in three pages of boating up the river, they observed only “thick woods” and experienced “a beautiful day.”

Why does describing nature matter?

Because if we, as writers, are to take some responsibility for helping people appreciate nature and all that we have to lose as  a result of climate change and human encroachment, we need to show readers that real animals and real plants with names exist in everyday life. This is on us.

Language does not just name our society. It shapes it. If plants and animals are never named, they never form in our minds as something concrete.  When readers can’t picture a mallard duck, hear the joyful song of a song sparrow, or smell pine needles crushed underfoot it’s easier for them to discount those bits of nature as unimportant and expendable.

Fiction is a wonderful places to slip those names, those words, into readers’ consciousness. Look at the difference just a few details makes in this description by Mary Lawson in Crow Lake—

The lake was the town’s only asset, in Ian’s opinion. It was large–fifty miles long, north to south, and almost twenty miles across–and deep, and very clear, surrounded on all sides by low granite hills studded with spruce and wind-blasted pines. Its shore was so ragged with bays and inlets that you could spend your life exploring…

Or this very simple addition of a bird from Ransom Riggs’ YA novel, A Map of Days —

Rich people’s houses fronted the Gulf; the rest of us looked out on Lemon Bay, which on quiet mornings was really very nice, with sailboats drifting by and herons fishing for their breakfasts along the bank.

How much nature you introduce by name will depend on your characters and their location, of course. You aren’t going to describe a red-bellied woodpecker if Jasmine has no idea what that is. But you can certainly give your characters the benefit of a doubt when it comes to plants and animals that are common where they live.

Red-bellied woodpecker, for the record. Photo mine.

For instance, I’ve lived in northern New York and southern Ontario for my whole adult life. And everywhere I’ve lived, most adults and children I knew were able identify a good selection of everyday animals common to our region — Canada geese, robins, grey squirrels, pigeons, rabbits, blue jays, opossums, cardinals, gulls, chipmunks, crows, raccoons, and skunks — to name a few.

Add to this, general groupings like hawks, turtles, snakes, sparrows, bats, frogs, fish and woodpeckers and you have full slate of creatures you could safely use to bring a scene to life.

I think people are a little less knowledgeable about plants and their relations, but still, many can identify general groups — oak trees, acorns, pine trees, pine cones, maple leaves, mushrooms, moss, clover, roses, cactus, palm trees, and so forth.

Sugar maple leaf, blue jay feather, and an eastern red cedar (juniper) branch. Photo mine.

Also remember, Jasmine doesn’t have to know the name of a plant or animal in order to experience it. Look at what Emma Donohue did here in The Wonder–

A lane led towards a clump of woodland. She noticed leaves lobed like oak but on straighter branches than English oaks. The hedges were spiky with furze, and she breathed the bouquet of the tiny yellow blooms. There were drooping pink flowers that no doubt Anna O’Donnell could have named. Lib tried to identify some of the birds twittering in the bushes, but the low boom of the bittern was the only one she knew for sure– the foghorn of some unseen ship.

A few years ago, a writing colleague pitched the idea of writing a romance novel with an environmental or nature theme. How many people are reading nature essays?, she asked. How many more are reading romance? Could this be a way to bring nature to more readers?

It’s a good thought. One book. Thousands of readers. But another approach is for thousands of writers to slip bits of nature here and there into thousands of novels. Maybe, by working together, we can add to our readers’s collective appreciation for the nature around us.

** Header photo: mine.

Check this out. It’s a fisher!

I wasn’t sure, when I reviewed the video, what I was seeing. I could tell it was a mustelid, a member of the “weasel family”. So I mentally ran through the list of common species nearby — minks, least weasels, and otters — all those long, slinky animals.

My first instinct was to look at that long body and thick dragging tail and think otter. But otters don’t traipse around at 2:00 in the morning. And it didn’t move like an otter. Size-wise, it couldn’t be a mink and weasel. They are are much smaller.

That left me with one remaining suspect — the fisher.

Now I have never seen a fisher here and, until a few months ago, didn’t even think they were in this area. But earlier this winter my neighbour up the hill caught a still shot of one on his trail cam. I couldn’t believe it when I saw it. We have fishers here! What are the chances I’d ever see one?

I went to Science Twitter for confirmation.

Alright #TeamMustelid, who did I catch on my cam last night? If this is a fisher cat in my yard, then omg! Other known locals include otter (at 2am?) and smaller mustelids..mink, various weasels. This feels many stoats large. #2019MMM pic.twitter.com/pyHQml5N2F

— Kimberly Moynahan 🇺🇸🇨🇦 (@Kim_Moynahan) March 21, 2019

I included screen captures and photos of the animal’s footprints to help with the ID.

L: Hindfoot print  R: Forefoot print. Fishers have five toes on each foot, with unsheathed, retractable claws. Their feet are large, making it easier for them to move on top of snow packs. In addition to the toes, four central pads are on each foot. On the hind paws are coarse hairs that grow between the pads and the toes, giving them added traction when walking on slippery surfaces. Wikipedia https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fisher_(animal)

And the replies were unanimous —

Our vote is fisher too!

— Fieldworkblog (@fieldworkblog) March 24, 2019

Looks like a fisher to me?

— John Clare (@John_D_Clare) March 21, 2019

Most fishers I’ve seen have been a bit stockier than that, but the tail seems pretty spot on. I’d go for fisher

— Matt Wilson (@mattymuffffins) March 21, 2019

So, what do we know about fishers?  First, they are about the size of a very large house cat, which may have led to their misleading, but common name, fisher cat. Second, if you have any hope of seeing one, you need to be out in the woods at dawn or dusk and you may have to look up, not down. But the fact is, they are elusive and solitary, so few people ever get to see one in the wild.

 

Fisher climbing up a tree. While they spend most of their time on the ground, they are skilled tree-climbers.  Like squirrels, their rear ankle joints can rotate almost 180° allowing them to run down trees headfirst.  Credit: New York State Education Department – Public Domain

Fisher etymology: Despite its name, the fisher is not known to eat fish. The name derives from “fitch”, a word for the European polecat (Mustela putorius) due their similarities. In colonial Dutch it is fisse or visse and in French, the pelt of a polecat is also called fiche or fichet. Credit info: Wikipedia. Photo by http://www.ForestWander.com, CC BY-SA 3.0

“He was on my head spinning in circles, trying to get a grip, biting and clawing … I couldn’t get him off.” — Roberto Giugovaz (Kingston Whig Standard)