Uncategorized

A Drought By Any Other Name

What is a drought? I know I don’t know — I live in the temperate northeastern United States and my field site is frequently wrapped in fog — but I get the feeling that I am not alone. According to a paper born from a Colorado State University graduate student seminar on ecology and drought, we should all be asking ourselves this question.

Drought seems to have lost its meaning for ecologists, and not in the semantic satiation way, where if you say a word over and over again it become aural nonsense. Ingrid J. Slette and her co-authors published ‘How ecologists define drought, and why we should do better’ in Global Change Biology this summer. As Slette tells it, “This project grew out of discussions during a grad student seminar course about ecology and drought. Everyone in the class approached drought from a different perspective, and when we looked to the literature to find a definition of drought that we could all agree on as a starting point for the class, we couldn't find one.” The class decided they needed to take a step back, and they shifted from synthesizing the impacts of drought to simply defining it. This might seem like a trivial point of semantics, but as they write in their paper, “Failure to define or characterize drought conditions in the published literature challenges out ability to advance ecological understanding.” You can’t compare studies, or compile a meta-analysis without understanding the idiosyncratic environmental conditions hidden under the catch-all term ‘drought.’

Perhaps we should not be surprised that ecologists can’t agree on drought; as I discovered while reading Slette’s paper, meteorologists and climatologists also struggle to define drought. But, the sticking point is not that we don’t have a clear definition of drought, it’s that ecologists use the term ‘drought’ in the literature as if we do. When Slette and her team surveyed 564 publications from the last fifty years of drought research, less than a third of the papers explicitly defined drought or cited a definition of drought. In addition, they report: “ecologists most often use the term drought as a synonym for generally dry conditions (~30% of papers). In other words, authors state they are studying drought without quantifying and/or contextualizing how dry conditions are relative to normal (e.g., by reporting stardardized index values, or some measure of deviation from average conditions).”

But wait, it gets even juicer — it turns out that hand-waving about drought may be distracting ecologists from noticing the actual climatic conditions at their study sites.Slette and her coauthors selected a subset of studies from their review that were (a) bad at defining drought, but (b) good at providing details about their geographic location. They pulled the location coordinates and timeframes of these studies to calculate Standardized Precipitation Evapotranspiration Index (SPEI) values using the Global SPEI database. Only half of the droughts in this subset were characterized by especially dry SPEI values, outside the range of normal climate variability for their ecosystem. They found that 87% of the drought studies took place during times that were drier than average for the study site, but 13% of these “drought” studies were from periods that were slightly wetter than average based on estimated SPEI values. And while there may have been extremely local conditions that were truly dry at some of these "wet-droughts", we don't know because the authors did not report on them or place them within the context of the local long-term climate records. 

I asked Slette about the review process for this paper. I had seen on twitter that it was her first publication as a lead author, and I wondered if journal editors had recognized the importance of this topic. I assumed that Slette may have faced the same challenges as authors of ‘advice papers’ who struggled to find the right home for their work. Both this paper and Dyson et al’s advice for urban ecologists working on private property had origin stories in graduate students creating the resources that they were searching for early in their careers. Slette and her seminar wanted a straightforward ecological definition on drought and couldn’t find it. Slette wrote, “I anticipated that it would be quite difficult to get this paper published, but I was actually pleasantly surprised by how well the editors and reviewers received it. Choosing to submit this paper as an Opinion was an important decision in terms of finding a good home for it, I think that turned out to be a better fit for it than as a primary research article.” Then, I asked her about her own research, aside from writing sharp reviews of ecological literature. I wanted to know what definition of drought she used and how it had changed since writing her definition paper. Slette is a PhD candidate at CSU, and she answered, “I study how changing precipitation amounts and variability affect plant production. Specifically, I have been studying how experimentally-imposed extreme droughts affect plant root production and aboveground vs. belowground resource allocation in Central U.S. grasslands. For these experiments, drought was defined as a reduction in precipitation similar to what this area experienced during the Dust Bowl, about a 2/3 reduction from average. After writing this review paper, I am much more cognizant of all drought definitions, including my own. In every paper that I write from now on, I am definitely going to include more detail about the conditions of the drought itself, not just about its impacts.

Finally, I asked her if the process of mining hundreds of papers for definitions of drought has made her a tougher reviewer or raised her standards for precise language from other ecologists. “I will definitely become a tougher reviewer now! I'm going to evaluate for precise wording and ask for lots of information about study design and justification.” I think that anyone who reads Slette’s paper will walk away with similar raised standards. And those of use who work in wet ecosystems should think about this too — we need to evaluate how we define our own work and what assumptions are hidden in our terms and jargon. As Slette notes, “I hope that the positive feedback and acceptance of this paper signals increased interest in (re)evaluating how ecologists define their work.”   

References:

Slette, I.J., Post, A.K., Awad, M., Even, T., Punzalan, A., Williams, S., Smith, M.D. and Knapp, A.K., 2019. How ecologists define drought, and why we should do better. Global Change Biology. 25(10), pp.3193-3200.

Top 12 Highly Anticipated Contributed Talks at ESA 2019

Grab your reusable coffee mugs and your best pair of Chacos; pack your vintage tote bag and your most ecologically-on-point knitting project. The Ecological Society of America meeting is next week! 

ESA is an overwhelming, exhausting, inspiring, coffee-fueled rush; your closest colleagues, mentors, and friends are all in one city, and yet you can’t find anyone who is free for lunch on the same day.

I’ve had extraordinary luck stumbling — literally wandering the hallways — into wonderful people and incredible talks at ESA over the years. As a newly-minted master’s student at ESA 2010, I found a mentor who became my academic sibling* and suggested I consider pursuing research in Acadia National Park (spoiler alert: I still work in Acadia, it’s become my research home). I serendipitously saw Robin Wall Kimmerer in an organized oral session** at ESA 2012; two years later she published the instant conservation classic Braiding Sweetgrass. (This year, you should catch Kimmerer’s Recent Advances plenary). 

I began writing for the PLoS Ecology Community as an ESA Reporting Fellow in 2016, and I wanted to mark the occasion of ESA this year with another kind of report. While my schedule is too packed for pure wandering this year, I love the feeling of finding those hidden gems when the sprawling community of ecologists comes together like this — a talk in another subdiscipline, a potential collaborator, a nugget of advice that you didn’t realize you really needed. So, I did my wandering ahead of time; I paused my #365papers reading last week to pore over the ESA 2019 Program. Here, I compiled a top twelve list of highly anticipated Contributed Talks. The talks are wide-ranging, covering topics in marine, terrestrial, temperate, and tropical ecology, spanning forests and grasslands, arthropods and humans, but ultimately the list reflects my personal preferences. As I write in my coverletter, “I’m a broadly trained ecologist.” I chose these talks because they are a little bit out of my wheelhouse, but — to stretch this baseball metaphor to the limit — I can hold my own, foul off a few balls, and raise the pitch count before popping an infield fly. This is a terrible metaphor; science is not baseball. If ESA is a buffet of endless dishes, I love to pile my plate with a bite of everything. So while I think these talks all sound fascinating, your mileage may vary. 

The criteria for this list were: 1) I couldn’t know the authors. This had to be the analog of wandering into a room because the title posted outside sounded interesting. 2) Contributed talks only, no Organized Oral Sessions, Symposia, or Inspire talks. Inspire talks are my favorite format as an audience member but when I attend them I intentionally choose an Inspire Session, arrive early for a good seat, and stay. Usually I follow the same pattern with Organized Oral Sessions and Symposia. 3) Ignore the rules of time. Some of my top 12 are scheduled concurrently; I’m going to channel Hermione Granger circa Prisoner of Azkaban and invest in a time-turner

In order of appearance, the Top 12 Highly Anticipated Contributed Talks at ESA 2019:

  1. Marine soundscapes indicate kelp forest condition (COS7-1), presented by Benjamin L. Gottesman. Monday, August 12, 2019 01:30 PM - 01:50 PM Kentucky International Convention Center - L011/012

  2. Soil health, agriculture and climate in New England: Scientific findings, farming practices and policies (COS1-8), presented by Josephine Watson. Monday, August 12, 2019 04:00 PM - 04:20 PM Kentucky International Convention Center - M101/102

  3. No lake left behind: Do protected areas facilitate biological connectivity among lakes? (COS14-1), presented by Ian M. McCullough. Tuesday, August 13, 2019 08:00 AM - 08:20 AM Kentucky International Convention Center - M101/102

  4. A survey on the interpretation and application of the terms 'trait' and 'functional trait' among ecologists (COS18-6), presented by Alexander Duthie. Tuesday, August 13, 2019 09:50 AM - 10:10 AM Kentucky International Convention Center - M111

  5. If you plant it, they won't come immediately (COS25-8), presented by Natalie R. Harris. Tuesday, August 13, 2019 10:30 AM - 10:50 AM Kentucky International Convention Center - L015/019 (side note: I really hope Natalie Harris and the authors of COS49-8, “If we build it, will they come? Arthropod communities as indicators of restoration in an urban prairie network” get a chance to talk to each other in Louisville)

  6. Do you have a better idea? Conceptual framework of programs focusing on multiple species conservation (COS21-8), presented by William Stewart. Tuesday, August 13, 2019 10:30 AM - 10:50 AM Kentucky International Convention Center - L013

  7. Bringing the ecology back: Transformation of a landscape from a one hundred year old golf course into a nature preserve (COS39-5), presented by Suzanne R Hoehne. Tuesday, August 13, 2019 02:50 PM - 03:10 PM Kentucky International Convention Center - L015/019

  8. Gender-responsive labor policy in protected areas: Lessons from boosting women’s roles in the management of the World Heritage Site Serra da Capivara National Park, Brazil (COS35-5), presented by Diele Lobo. Tuesday, August 13, 2019 02:50 PM - 03:10 PM Kentucky International Convention Center - M101/102

  9. Things that go bump in the light: Introduction of artificial light at night increases abundance of predators, detritivores, and parasites in arthropod communities (COS42-2), presented by Jeffrey A Brown. Wednesday, August 14, 2019 08:20 AM - 08:40 AM Kentucky International Convention Center - L010/014

  10. Phenology as a process rather than an event (COS68-7), presented by Brian D. Inouye. Wednesday, August 14, 2019 03:40 PM - 04:00 PM Kentucky International Convention Center - L010/014

  11. A pulse of petals: Impacts of coffee (Coffea arabica) flower petals on leaf litter community and leaf litter decomposition rates (COS57-7), presented by Lauren Schmitt. Wednesday, August 14, 2019 04:00 PM - 04:20 PM Kentucky International Convention Center - M111

  12. Using circuit theory to map connectivity of the U.S. Great Lakes coastline (COS98-3), presented by Lindsay E. F. Hunt. Friday, August 16, 2019 08:40 AM - 09:00 AM Kentucky International Convention Center - L007/008

Some observations from the experience of reading through contributed talk titles: We, as ecologists, can be kind of boring and vague in our talk titles. We like Hamlet (“to ___ or not to ____”), Game of Thrones (“winter is coming”), and hot takes on whether or not to befriend the enemy of our enemies. I have to tip my hat to Jamie Harrison (current Templer student), Pam Templer (my former committee member), and Andrew Reinmann (fomer Templer student): they basically created their own organized oral session in COS30 by submitting three nearly-identical talk titles: “Effects of climate change across seasons on ______ in a northern hardwood forest.” I imagine sitting in this session will be like watching a lab synchronized swimming routine (since it’s the Templer lab, would it be a synchronized snow shoveling routine?).

Finally, the ESA 2019 program is overflowing with talks that sound amazing and this list is by no means exhaustive. After my first pass through the program, I had 67 talks starred***! This conference promises to be another overwhelming, exhausting, inspiring, coffee-fueled rush of amazing ideas and stand out speakers. Hope to see you there!  

*Academic sibling = I joined the lab where he completed his PhD

**This was before I instituted my personal pick-a-session-and-stay-in-that-room rule for Organized Oral Sessions. I remember on that particular day, I was feeling a little burnt out from long phenology sessions and so I just started aimlessly walking around the conference center and I literally stumbled into the room right as Kimmerer began speaking.

***And that's just total strangers! How am I going to see my friends? Where do I get a time turner? 

Australian Students Grapple with Citizen Science

Tis the season for student projects! 

As a postdoc I’m not teaching this year and I’m not pining for a pile of grading, but this is a bit of the academia-phenology that I miss. I’ve found myself idly re-listening to my favorite student-created podcast on alpine heath snowbank communities from a final project last spring. But while I mire in the nostalgia of the ghosts of student projects past, a recent PLoS ONE paper presents an innovative partnership of student projects and citizen science in Australia. Here, Nicola Mitchell and her colleagues showcase the Journal Project — a semester-long project for first year students in large (266-586 students) introductory biology classes that incorporates natural history, data analysis, and writing peer-reviewed papers. Mitchell, a senior lecturer at the University of Western Australia, has led the Journal Project since its inception in 2011.

After reading this paper, I’m torn between two equally strong urges. Should I pose as a freshman Never-Been-Kissed-style and join Mitchell’s class or wholesale borrow this project design and teach a Journal Project with an American citizen science program? Citizen science describes programs that involve non-scientists (ie the citizens, though recently organizations like The Audubon Society have moved toward the term ‘community science’) in some (or all) aspect(s) of study design, data collection or data analysis. The most common model of citizen science draws on volunteer-collect data to expand the spatial or temporal scale of observations, while scientists determine the questions, analysis, and interpretation of the data. 

Earlier this month Ferris Jabr published a wonderful essay in New York Times Magazine on the citizen science app iNaturalist. With iNaturalist, you can snap a photo of an organism and receive identification help almost immediately, placing a name in the palm of your hand. Jabr writes: “Learning the names of wild things changes the way we look at nature and the way we think about it… [It] is an exercise in perspective and empathy, transforming the outdoors from a pastoral backdrop into a world of parallel societies inhabited by diverse creatures, each with its own character and career.” This sentiment so beautifully matches the advice of one of my favorite botanical heroes: “never be content with the common name only. Search, inquire, study, until you have discovered the title by which science recognizes your favorite. There are dozens of swamp pinks; there is only one Arethusa bulbosa; there are scores of Mayflowers, but only one Epigaea repens.” This is from Annie Sawyer Downs, and though she was a 19th century botanist, I believe she would have enjoyed iNaturalist for the same reasons that Jabr does. Just last weekend iNaturalist recorded its 7 millionth observation; the app has become a repository, archiving our human encounters (smartphone in hand) with the natural world over the last nine years. 

The Journal Project is linked to the Australian phenology citizen science program ClimateWatch. ClimateWatch, like iNaturalist, depends on volunteer-collected data. It is specifically focused on documenting changes in seasonal events (budding, leafing, flowering) and behavior (nesting, breeding, migration) for a suite of common species — the phenologies of these species are tracked as indicators of climate change. The Journal Project first requires students to collect data for ClimateWatch, and then assess the program’s volunteer-collected data. I genuinely love the requirement to collect data — in her paper Mitchell includes this quote from a student about their experience collecting ClimateWatch data: “it creat[ed] awareness of the different kinds of plants and birds. They are not just trees, they are now jacarandas and banksia and birds are not black-tail bird or crows they are willie wagtails and magpie lark etc.” This naming is the Jabr & Saywer Downs effect, and I’m so impressed that a large intro bio class was able to facilitate this kind of natural history engagement through citizen science. But, the data collection is just the beginning: early in the semester students are divided into teams and given a raw dataset — all of the records (i.e. no data quality checks) for a given species that have been submitted to ClimateWatch since the launch of its website in 2009.

Assessing the quality of volunteer-collected data can be thorny: were the volunteers where they say they were? Did they actually see what they said they saw? I emailed with Emily Bennett, a recent student who participated in the Journal Project, and asked which part of the experienced was more challenging, making her own observations or assessing the quality of others’ observations. Bennett writes: 

Contrary to my initial expectations before undertaking the Journal Project, I found that assessing the quality of others' observations was one of the most challenging components of the Journal Project; the quantity of observations provided by ClimateWatch Citizen Scientists and combined with the need to generate extensive and yet efficient criteria posed a significant challenge to my group, especially when we realised that the majority of the observations provided did not meet our specified criteria needed to be deemed reliable…After considering criteria for evaluating research from other scientists, I found that making my own observations was a much easier task, and that I was actively seeking ways to improve my observations in both detail and accuracy to ensure that it would meet the criteria for data quality and be of use to other scientists.

 (I am beyond impressed by Bennett and her fellow students here: I assessed the quality of volunteer-collected phenology data in New Hampshire as a M.S. student, and if you want to know more, you should definitely cite McDonough MacKenzie et al. 2017). 

The Journal Project presents students with real data and asks them to engage in two big real-world questions: Does their data provide evidence of phenological or distributional shifts? Does citizen science produce reliable data? Each Journal Project group writes a paper that grapples with one or both of these questions, and then submits this paper to the peer-review process. Peers (other student) review the papers, but so ‘Subject Editors’ (PhD students and postdocs). Revisions are re-submitted and the best articles are published in an online student journal Cygnus on the final day of semester. 

I emailed with two Subject Editors because I wanted to hear more about their role in the class and how closely the Journal Project mirrored the reality of writing a peer-reviewed paper. Mavra Grimonprez explained: “Subject editing…is a very interesting process: we do not have contact with the students [aside from] email and reading their articles, exactly as peer-reviewers do. So we are not biased in any way while marking as we can just assess the quality of the work submitted to us...though we still get a good picture of the writers' personality through reading. It is a thrilling adventure to watch the students improve, see who is responsive to feedback, who is not, watch the groups' dynamics unfold, etc.” When I asked what the Subject Editors received from the experience, Grimonprez said, “I was writing my own article when I applied to be a subject editor: all the guidance and advice I had received from my supervisor, I could in turn provide it to the students and a lot of it made suddenly even more sense as I was in the reviewer's shoes!” She also said that serving as a Subject Editor improved her own writing, a sentiment echoed by Jamie Tedeschi, who wrote “Serving as Subject Editor has not only improved my own manuscript writing, but [gave] me confidence as a manuscript reviewer…I have become a better critic of scientific writing, and have learned how to give valuable and constructive feedback to my peers of all stages in their careers, whether they be undergraduate students, colleagues or supervisors.” 

Another side beneficiary of the Journal Project is ClimateWatch. Mitchell and her coauthors report that by November 2014, 41% of the ClimateWatch records were from University of Western Australia students. Citizen science programs are generally inundated with retirees volunteering to collect data, but often struggle to engage younger audiences. The Journal Project exposes students to citizen science, but it also flips the script as the participants analyze their own data and grapple with data quality in a volunteer-based program. As Mitchell told me, “I guess, like the students, I was pretty shocked to discover how many errors are in the data (some datasets more so than others) – basically the citizen scientists frequently record the wrong species. That said, there IS a lot of good data in each species dataset, and now that ClimateWatch has matured to seven years old, the largest datasets would be valuable for phenological research once erroneous data are removed.” Mitchell’s students are engaged in natural history, data assessment and data analysis, paper writing, peer review, and publishing — an ambitious, broad, and inquiry-based experience that produces both incredible projects and well-trained scientists. Mitchell shared some recent student reflections with me, including these two heart-warmers: 

“Participating in ClimateWatch and the Journal Project have change[d] my perspective of science and affirmed to me that I am on the right path regarding careers…The Journal project was very intimidating, but the experience was rewarding and taught so much more than just learning from a syllabus.” — Emma Kuzminski

“We would like to thank you for the submission of our paper to the Cygnus journal. This has made our day. Being in a scientific peer reviewed journal, where people can see our paper and use it for further research is an amazing start to all of our careers… For a team that was petrified at the start of the year, this has filled us with confidence.” —Sean Davey (and team)

 I encourage you to cuddle up with a copy of Mitchell’s PLOS One paper this winter. You’ll drift off to sleep with visions of student engagement dancing in your heads… Happy holidays!

Ada Lovelace Day

In honor of Ada Lovelace Day, I’m reflecting on the power of naming women in STEM. Ada Lovelace Day aims to “increase the profile of women in STEM and, in doing so, create new role models who will encourage more girls into STEM careers.” There are many biases, systemic and unconscious, that hamper the success of women in STEM or gatekeep against their entry all together. This can make it easy to be cynical of efforts like Ada Lovelace Day — knowing Ada’s name does not impart a force field against rampant sexism in tech; knowing of Rosalind Franklin doesn’t shield one from sexual harassment in the lab or field. And yet, throughout September I kept bumping against examples of the power of naming women in STEM. Reading scientific literature, scrolling through twitter, participating in a TEDx event*: I continued to find myself engaged in conversations about institutions and individuals honoring specific women, and the next generation of women in STEM identifying their own role models.

For example… 

NASA’s Katherine G. Johnson Computational Research Facility officially opened last month. The mathematician, whose story was made famous in the book and film Hidden Figures was one of the human computers whose calculations made early spaceflight possible. I thought about this as I navigated a new campus in my first weeks as a postdoc. I have studied science in many buildings and while not all of them were named for men in STEM, I can’t think of a single building in my career that’s been named to honor a woman in STEM. 

At TEDx Piscataqua in early September, seventeen-year-old Lidia Balanovich shared her perspective as an early-early-career woman in STEM. She spoke of her experience as the lone woman in an AP Physics class — instead of despairing when her personal research on careers revealed examples of STEM’s leaky pipeline, Lidia began a science club for elementary aged kids with the goal of engaging young girls in STEM. Her science activities at local libraries are open to boys and girls, but intentionally highlight the contributions of women in STEM. I was impressed that Lidia’s reaction to the data on the challenges facing women pursuing careers in STEM was to open the path to the generation behind her. She immediately recognized the power of naming women in STEM — both for herself and for the kids with whom she engaged. 

On twitter, @JacquelynGill recognized Phyllis Draper, the first scientist to reconstruct past vegetation from pollen in North America. Jacquelyn, Assistant Professor of Paleoecology and Plant Ecology at University of Maine and an established palynologist in her own right, wrote of her general recognition that historically many women contributed to the field, their names now lost to history. That such an eminent scientist and feminist could not know about a foundational figure in her own field is astounding. For women in STEM, our historic role models are there — analyzing pollen in 1929 — but we have to excavate their stories and bring their names to light. This is work for the whole STEM community — to bring recognition to the history of our fields, to highlight the work that our research and theory is built on, and to reflect on the progress of our efforts to create equity and inclusion and the challenges that still remain embedded in our labs and field sites.

Finally, eight-year-old Sophia Spencer co-authored a paper in the Annals of the Entomological Society of America. She writes with Dr. Morgan Jackson about the power of the #BugsR4Girls hashtag. Sophia’s mom reached out to the Entomological Society of Canada when Sophia, an avid bug enthusiast, was teased for liking bugs. This letter inspired #BugsR4Girls, and suddenly twitter was full of entomologists exclaiming that of course bugs are for girls! Sophia expresses her reaction to this outpouring in her paper: “After my mom sent the message and showed me all the responses, I was happy. I felt like I was famous. Because I was! It felt good to have so many people support me, and it was cool to see other girls and grown-ups studying bugs. It made me feel like I could do it too, and I definitely, definitely, definitely want to study bugs when I grow up, probably grasshoppers.” 

Happy Ada Lovelace Day! Here’s to women in STEM — may we be them, may we raise them, may we recognize their contributions both historical and modern, and may we name more buildings after them! 

*After reflection, I realized that in my own TEDx talk, I was also naming a woman in STEM. I shared the story of Annie Sawyer Downs, a 19th century botanist, mostly forgotten, who mentored the young Edward L Rand as her compiled the Flora of Mount Desert Island, Maine. A part of my inspiration for this talk: Rand’s data and field notes made it into my dissertation, but despite years of searching I’ve never found Annie’s journals or raw botanical records. I uncovered the pieces of a fascinating life — she grew up botanizing with Thoreau, she was a school teacher who published natural history essays in magazines, she founded a library on Mount Desert Island — but none of this story made it into my PhD defense talk.

Flying Foxes and Lilford’s Wall Lizards: At Your (Seed Dispersal) Service

I'm Dr. Caitlin McDonough MacKenzie, a new PLOS Ecology Community Editor. Last summer I was a PLOS Ecology Reporting Fellow at the 2016 Ecological Society of America meeting and I'm excited to join the team year-round! My first post as a Community Editor has me reflecting on my field site in the "off season", #poopscience, and the under-appreciated role of seed dispersers in ecology and conservation. Two papers dig into the seed dispersal services provided by charismatic megafauna in island ecosystems, and in both cases it's not much of an exaggeration to say: 'Save the Seed Disperser, Save the World.' 

I study plant phenology, specifically leaf out and flowering, on an island in Maine. I leave my field site just as flowers are senescing and unripe fruits are developing, and return again in early spring to catch the last patches of snow before the first green shoots emerge. I hardly ever think about what my plants are doing from July through April, but of course the ecological processes in these months — fruiting, seed dispersal, germination — underlie a fundamental assumption of my fieldwork: that there will be new plants each year when I return. I depart Maine and the seeds are just developing in green fruits, I arrive and new green stems are popping out of the soil, but in between seed dispersal was quietly a crucial, and perhaps overlooked, part of this circle of life. 

Two recentpapers in PLOS One highlight the seed dispersal services of charismatic megafauna in different study systems with implications for island conservation and habitat restoration. Both studies focused on the relationship between an animal seed disperser and a plant that prefers to grow in open, sunny environments. In Sa Dragonera Natural Park, on an islet in the Mediterranean off the coast of Mallorca, Dr. Constanza Neghme and her coauthors studied Ephedra fragilis, an evergreen shrub that produces pseudo-flowers and pseudo cones. E. fragilis is an early successional shrub, colonizing new areas and establishing in open ground without a “nurse” (for example, another plant) to provide shade and minimize water loss. So, E. fragilis seeds need to get to these open areas, away from the shade of their parents. In fact, seeds that were not dispersed, and landed below the parent plant, did not survive in Neghme’s study.

Dr. Ryszard Oleksy and collaborators worked in three forests in varying states of fragmentation and degradation across Madagascar, with a focus on fig trees: Ficus polita, F. grevei and F. lutea. These are all pioneer species, able to survive in degraded areas, and as their root systems penetrate hard substrates, they can improve aeration and drainage of the soil, facilitating the establishment of other plants. Fruiting fig trees depend on frugivores (fruit-eating animals) for seed dispersal, but rapid deforestation in Madagascar has decimated native wildlife populations, dramatically reducing animal-mediated seed dispersal. Dr. Neghme’s E. fragilis and Dr. Oleksy Ficus have particularly charismatic seed dispersers: wall lizards and flying foxes. The Lilford’s wall lizards (Podarcis lilfordi) are “superabundant” on Dragonera islet; they are endemic to the Balearic islands, but now extinct on nearby Mallorca and Menorca. Neghme reports that they are the only known seed dispersers of E. fragilis on the islet. In Oleksy’s research, the Madagascan flying fox (Pteropus rufus) is studied as a potential long-distance fig seed disperser. Madagascan flying foxes are the largest bat species on Madagascar. These frugivores crush fruit in their mouths to devour the fruit juice and soft parts (often including seeds), then spit out the fibrous fruit coating, not unlike my two-year-old eating blackberries. I’m sure she would love to eat figs with flying foxes if given the chance.

Both of these studies depend heavily on #poopscience. The #poopscience hashtag is popular among a certain segment of ecologists on twitter, and though the authors were unfamiliar with this term when I contacted them, they were universally enthusiastic to talk about their experiences in #poopscience. Neghme told me: “ My first time with poop science was when I was doing my bachelor thesis with lizard in high mountain ecosystems, I was helping a post doc and he encourage me to do questions by my own, then I saw the lizard poops carrying seed, and after reading an article from lizards as pollinators and seed dispersers in island ecosystems I started the journey in to poop.” Dr. Gareth Jones, the corresponding author on Oleksy’s paper, said that he’s “been into #poopscience for ages, initially using microscopic analyses to analyse prey of insectivorous bats, more recently using DNA barcoding to identify insects in poop to species level.”

To know what a seed disperser is eating, and to test the germination success of what Oleksy euphemistically calls “bat-processed seeds”, scientists collect and pick through lizard and bat faeces. Both studies planted “undispersed” (read: collected from parent plant) and dispersed (read: found in poop) seeds and tracked seedling emergence and seedling survival in a range of microhabitats. For both E. fragilis and the Ficus species, the “processed” seeds won. Lizard-dispersed and bat-dispersed seeds were much more likely to germinate, emerge, and survive as seedlings than the undispersed (non-faecal) seeds. Logically, the next question is where are the lizards and bats taking these seeds? We know you proverbially should not poop where you eat, but how far apart are the eating and pooping places of these lizards and bats? Neghme estimated how much time the lizards spent in different microhabitats on the islet, assuming that the proportion of time spent in each place would determine the probability of seed dispersal to those microhabitats. She and her colleagues walked transects and recorded if the lizards they spotted were in open areas, under Ephedra, or under other plants. The lizards spent most of their time in open habitats, and, unsurprisingly, this is where Neghme found the most lizard poop.

In Madagascar, 11 bats were outfitted with GPS devices, which tracked their movements overnight. These GPS tracks were combined with information about the bats’ gut retention time from a captive bat experiment. Basically, captured bats were fed a known quantity of fig seeds on banana slices and then researchers recorded the length of time between feeding and pooping, while counting the fig seeds present in each pooping event. (Ecology research can be especially glamorous.) Oleksy’s team then modeled the “seed shadow” of the bats’ flights — which is a nice way of saying they created a map showing where the bats were most likely to have pooped on the landscape. These “probable poop maps” confirm that Madagascan flying foxes are important long distance seed dispersers, and they frequently disperse seeds in degraded habitats as they fly between forest fragments. I love that both Neghme and Oleksy created sophisticated stochastic models of seed dispersal, and then ground-truthed them by walking through their field sites* and saying, “Yes. This is where the poop is.”

The ecosystem services provided by the E. fragilis shrubs on Dragonera and the Ficus fig trees on Madagascar are so important to habitat restoration and conservation. These early-successional species colonize open and degraded areas, and facilitate the growth and success of other, less-hardy plant species. But without their seed dispersers, they cannot access these open habitats and their seeds languish in the shade of parent plants. The Madagascan flying fox is listed as ‘Vulnerable’ in the IUCN Red List; Lilford’s wall lizard is ‘Endangered’. These seed-dispersing animals can act as super-conservationists: naturally maintaining and regenerating habitat through their poop. Neghme explained to me that the lizards are threatened by introduced predators and habitat loss, both “usual[ly] happen in island ecosystems to build tourist resorts.” In Madagascar flying foxes are legally hunted, and Oleksy notes that the “best protection would be to ensure that no one is allowed to hunt between August and December. Also no hunting at the roosting trees…Education would be a key to ensure local communit[ies] understand the role and importan[ce] of the bats.” The parallels between the lizards and the bats, the open-grown shrubs on Dragonera and pioneering fig trees in degraded Madagascan forests, run through these papers from study design to conservation implications. These strong relationships between plants and their animal seed dispersers highlight the importance of conserving species interactions for biodiversity maintenance and ecosystem functioning. Or as twitter might say: #poopscience can inform conservation! 

References:

Neghme C, Santamar ́ıa L, Calviño-Cancela M (2017) Strong dependence of a pioneer shrub on seed dispersal services provided by an endemic endangered lizard in a Mediterranean island ecosystem. PLoS ONE 12(8): e0183072. https:// doi.org/10.1371/journal.pone.0183072

Oleksy R, Giuggioli L, McKetterick TJ, Racey PA, Jones G (2017) Flying foxes create extensive seed shadows and enhance germination success of pioneer plant species in deforested Madagascan landscapes. PLoS ONE 12(9): e0184023. https://doi.org/10.1371/journal. pone.0184023 

*Note that ground truthing was limited by violence in Oleksy’s study. He explains: “at the time of the study south of Madagascar was at war with local rebels. I was based at Berenty Reserve which was rather safe, however due to the war we were not allowed to leave the reserve. We would still capture bats beyond its boundaries accompanied by a guard and ground truth in nearby areas. However, the more distant places to which bats flew were too dangerous to visit…Fortunately, we got enough data to analyse the GPS.”