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4 CA lichens receive somelong-overdue attention

6 Bee behavior reveals thedrawbacks of cooking uphabitat from scratch

9 Fish stocking becomes frogstalking in the High Sierra

12 Millennium falcons get alift from NRS reserves

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University of California

In T

his

Issu

e

A message from thedirector of the NRS

From drudgery to discovery:The real life of field researchers

B eing a researcher is wanting to have a eureka moment, even when youknow it’s not happening,” says Susan Harrison, a UC Davis associateprofessor and faculty manager of several UCD-administered NRS sites.

The prospect of making new discoveries about nature can be invigorating, evenromantic. But field research can also be a dirty business, with countless hoursworking on the ground, getting your fingers grimy and your feet wet.

The life of a field researcher has its drawbacks — yet most such scientists wouldnever trade working in the wild for a desk job. Dan Costa, a UC Santa Cruzprofessor and faculty manager of the NRS’s Año Nuevo Island Reserve, expressesthe sentiment with these words: “When I’m out with my students on Año NuevoIsland, and we’re wrestling a giant elephant seal in the mud, I just take a deepbreath and say to them, ‘You know, some people get to do this for a living!’”

From mountaintops to ocean floors, the highs and lows of field research range asdramatically as the possible topics of study. All researchers have their own stories

T he University of CaliforniaNatural Reserve System wasformally established in 1965

largely through the efforts of a few vi-sionary and altruistic professors. Theirlegacy is now a system of thirty-threesites that encompass much of the state’secological diversity. No other univer-sity in the world can boast of such aresource for research and education inthe field sciences.

The world has changed in many waysin the short time since 1965. In manyareas, these changes have contributeddramatically to the health, technologi-cal capabilities, and wealth of human-ity. With respect to the environment,however, the anthropogenic changeshave been negative and have taken

Researcher Roland Knapp on the job. Photo by Eric Knapp

The real life offield researchers

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to tell about why they chose their particular paths and whatthey like and dislike most about their work. But whetherfield research was a lifelong ambition or a lifestyle they fellinto after completing their undergraduate degrees, most ofthese researchers say they are driven by three passions: un-relenting curiosity, love of the natural world, and commit-ment to the scientific method.

“Curiosity may have killed the cat, but rarely the field ecolo-gist,” says Peter Bowler, a UC Irvine professor and memberof the NRS’s Universitywide Advisory Committee. “We’relucky to be paid to have so much fun getting the answers— or trying to — to the things that puzzle us.” This nag-ging curiosity jumpstarts field researchers, enticing them toventure out into nature and begin the process of discovery.

Applying scientific method to the madness

In a sense, the roots of environmental field science reachback to the beginning of humanity. As long as people havewalked the earth, they have been taking in information abouttheir environment and forging a relationship with it.Although this environmental “science” is very old, environ-mental field study as a formal academic discipline is rela-tively new, gaining popularity and depth with the increas-ing prevalence of environmental awareness and concern.

Researchers explain that the difference between simple na-ture appreciation and actual research is application of thescientific method of observing, asking questions, collectingand analyzing data, and drawing conclusions. One formerNRS reserve manager, Claudia Luke, calls the method “atool for biting off a small piece of an infinitely vast problemwhich gives us a glimpse into a mysterious world.”

The science method does help researchers grasp some ofnature’s mysteries, but it also demands weeks, even years offieldwork. And the process of data collection is rarely glam-orous. More often, it is tedious and repetitive — a test ofone’s patience, stamina, and nerves. It may require stayingup all night radio-tracking coyotes or painstakingly siftingthrough huge mounds of dirt in hopes of finding a fewarchaeological fragments.

Some researchers resort to guerilla tactics to collect data.Roland Knapp, a researcher at the NRS’s Sierra NevadaAquatic Research Laboratory (SNARL), plunged into his

data-quest by snorkeling in half-frozen lakes — which gavehim a mammoth ice-cream headache with his whole headas the epicenter. Over two summers he also hiked 800 milesin the thin air of the far back country of the high SierraNevada (9,500 to 12,000 feet) to survey declining nativefrogs and other fauna in a whopping 2,200 lakes and ponds.What he sacrificed in oxygen, he made up for in baggage,oftentimes lugging up to 80 pounds of field equipment.“We have little choice but to push the limits to do the re-search that needs to be done,” says Knapp. “I like the ad-venture; it keeps us on our toes.” (See article page 9: “Na-tive frogs are ‘sitting ducks’ for introduced predators.”)

Despite the challenges, Lisa Levin, a UC San Diego profes-sor, whose research takes her by submarine onto the oceanfloor, says her thrills run deep. “I love having the chance tosee environments and animals for the first time,” she says.“Often it is the first time anyone has seen them.” For in-stance, in the Arabian Sea, she discovered large numbers ofnever-seen-before protozoans the size of golf balls. New toscience, these single-cell animals, which she nicknamed“jellyballs,” turned out to be an unusual group of gromid.

Discoveries, no matter how small, excite researchers andmake them feel their efforts were worth the toil and pa-tience. Says Luke: “There’s usually a moment as you work

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Scientist Walt Koenig, after a quarter of acentury of studying acorn woodpeckers atHastings Natural History Reservation, still getshigh on his research. Photo by Galen Rowell

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with your data when all the numbers have been run and —wha-bam! You suddenly know something no one else hasever known before, an infinitely small piece of the hugecomplex puzzle. It’s small, but it’s new and shiny andwondrous.”

Joining science to see the world

For itchy-footed thinkers, fieldwork offers an opportunity(we might even say an excuse) to study elements of naturevirtually anywhere in the world. Some scientists, for ex-ample, may investigate exotic species that live exclusively inthe paradisiacal environment of lush tropical islands — atough break! On the other hand, fieldwork can present cer-tain hazards unimaginable to those who hold down officejobs: from mountain lions and great white sharks to morepesky nuisances, like poison oak, stinging nettle, and angrybees, and even such anthropogenic hazards as zealous cus-toms agents and travel in politically dangerous countries.Field equipment failures also pose certain risks. Levin recallsthe time her research submarine lost power on the ocean floorand slid down a seamount (underwater volcano) in the dark.

Getting grounded in fieldwork

Simply establishing and maintaining a secure field researchsite can present an enormous challenge, especially in a de-veloped area. Private lands pose a problem. Harrison says:“Every so often I am nervously knocking on someone’s door,

ready to put on my most harmless and winning smile andask permission to work on their land.” But public lands area problem, too. Many are grazed, and, in some areas, re-searchers have returned to their field sites, only to find themnewly paved over. Such frustrations originally led UC fac-ulty to press for the formation of the NRS in 1965.

Holding down the 24-hour-a-day job

For some researchers, where they choose to work becomesthe greatest influence upon their lifestyle. This is especiallytrue if they reside in remote settings and/or extreme envi-ronments. For example, some NRS reserve managers (andtheir families, too) who reside on site — conducting re-search and the business of running a research site — live offthe power grid, rely on solar power and well water, andendure extreme temperatures and high elevations. Most fieldresearchers have put in their time sleeping on the groundand eating out of ice chests. Many eventually feel the needto balance their fieldwork with other aspects of their lives.

Field researchers are generally free from punching a timeclock or submitting to the supervisory scrutiny of The Boss.Their schedules tend more to be governed by personalmotivation and (predictably) the demands of nature. Costagave this example: “One time our house visitors were sur-prised when I went out to Año Nuevo Island on Christmas.But the elephant seals didn’t know it was a holiday!” Heemphasized that a researcher really needs to be self-moti-vated. The good news is: a field scientist gets to do a lot ofthe work on his or her own, without constant supervisionor prodding. The bad news (for the unmotivated) is … thesame. And Knapp adds this insight: “It can be beautiful ormiserable. Sometimes you’ll wake up to a beautiful clearsunny day. And some days, you’ll wake up in the rain, eatbreakfast in the rain, hike in the rain, take samples in therain, and sleep out in the rain.”

Tracking on paper trails

Although field research is based outdoors, it neverthelessinvolves more deskwork than might be expected: data analy-sis, write-ups and reports, lab work, library work, substan-tiating and checking results. Levin explains that in just afew hours or days in a submarine, she can collect enoughsamples to generate months or even years of processing inthe laboratory.

The endless grant proposal writing, another dirty desk job,is a major complaint of researchers. Bill Thomas, a retiredscientist who still conducts investigations based at the NRS’s

Continued on page 14Researcher Bill Thomas (left) digs deep in hisstudy of snow algae. Photo by Topper Thomas

N o one knows how many li-chens grow in California.Also, no one knows how

many lichens no longer grow here. Tocompensate for the scarcity of detailedstudies on lichens found in the Cali-fornia desert, members of the Califor-nia Lichen Society (CALS) visited theNRS’s Sweeney Granite MountainsDesert Research Center in the EastMojave to survey that site’s species.*

“The reserve has never had an inven-tory of its lichens,” saysClaudia Luke, former co-manager of this reserve.“CALS collected and iden-tified lichens and plans toestablish a long-termmonitoring plot. Becauselichens are sensitive tochanges in air quality, theplot may reflect thosechanges over decades.”

Lichens come in a varietyof colors and grow on soil,rocks, tree bark, and otherplants. They are describedin three categories: foliose(leaflike), fruticose (hairlikeor shrubby), and crustose(crustlike). About 1,000species have been identi-fied in the state, with20,000 species estimated worldwide.Although several researchers have con-ducted extensive studies, no compre-hensive catalog of California lichenflora has been published since 1978.(A comprehensive Catalog of Califor-nian Lichens was published in 1978.

Shirley Tucker, its first author and a co-principal investigator of the GraniteMountains study, is working on a revi-sion with co-author Bruce Ryan.)

This oversight troubles lichen lovers,because it appears that vast numbersof lichen species are disappearing. Theirdramatic decline since the early part ofthis century has been attributed to ur-ban sprawl, agriculture, and pollution.Lichens are not true plants; rather, theyare one part fungus, one part alga. The

fungal partner (mycobiont) is most of-ten a member of the class Ascomycetes.It is the dominant as well as larger ofthe two partners, protecting and hy-drating the other in a symbiotic rela-tionship that nevertheless tends to fa-vor the fungus. The single-celled algalpartner (photobiont), usually of thegenus Trebouxia or Pseudotrebouxia,synthesizes carbohydrates throughphotosynthesis, which feeds themycobiont. (Some lichens actuallypartner not with an alga, but with a

cyanobacterium. These lichens are ca-pable of fixing atmospheric nitrogen,just as legumes do.)

This symbiotic relationship enduressome of the harshest environmentalextremes on our planet, from frigidhigh latitudes to heat-parched deserts.Lichens can withstand nearly total des-iccation — then spring to life when re-hydrated. Ironically, their remarkablehardiness contributes to their undoing:they readily absorb toxic substances (in-

cluding pesticidesand such heavy met-als as lead), but haveno way to excretethem. Lichens, there-fore, turn out to besensitive indicators ofpollution. Founderand past president ofthe Lichen SocietyJanet Doell explains:“They are very long-lived, so we canwatch them over timeand see whetherchanges in the envi-ronment have im-pacted them.”

Lichens also retain ra-dioactive cesium.“Lichens of the genus

Cladonia are the main winter food ofcaribou and reindeer,” Doell says.“During and following atmosphericnuclear testing, people of the far northwho ate reindeer meat were often ex-posed to excessive amounts of radioac-tivity. This was also true following theChernobyl accident.” Yet Doell empha-sizes that the reappearance of lichensin older cities, such as Paris, and insome cities on the U.S. East Coast is aheartening indication that atmosphericpollutants, such as sulphur dioxide, arebeing reduced.

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Granite Mountains lichens no longer overlooked

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* The report on this survey of the lichensof the Sweeney Granite Mountains DesertResearch Center was published in theBulletin of the California Lichen Soci-ety (Volume 6, No. 1) in the summer of1999. Reprints are available.

Umbilicaria phae Tuck, a small (about a centimeter in diameter),dark brown, foliose lichen, shown here growing on granite.This common lichen found at the Granite Mountains inSouthern California is used for dyes. Photo by Richard Doell

I f you have ever been hiking duringspring or summer high in the backcountry of the Sierra Nevada and

encountered a patch of pinkish-redsnow, then you have probably seensnow algae. What you might not knowis that red snow, or “watermelon snow,”serves an important role in a micro-scopic ecosystem in the snowbank.

“Think of it like your lawn,” says BillThomas, retired staff researcher fromthe Scripps Institution of Oceanogra-phy. “Snow algae make up the meadowof the snow fields.” He has been usingthe NRS’s high-elevation Sierra NevadaAquatic Research Laboratory (SNARL)near Mammoth Lakes as a base forstudy since 1978. However, his inves-tigations into red snow began severalyears earlier, in 1969, when he wasjoined by 200 enthusiastic hikers, ski-ers, and rangers to survey red snow inthe Sierras.

Although Thomas has worked for 44years at an oceanographic institutionand has a long history of research onalgae in oceans, he feels most at homeon mountaintops. He takes samplesfrom 10,000-foot elevations at TiogaPass, the eastern entry to YosemiteNational Park, and analyzes them atSNARL.

Most of his work focuses on the spe-cies Chlamydomonas nivalis, the mostcommon of more than 350 species ofsnow algae. Each C. nivalis plant (or“alga”) is just a tiny single cell (as op-posed to one of its cousins, kelp, amacroalga), and 2.5 million of themcan live in just one teaspoon of snow-melt. Snow algae can be found on ev-ery continent, including Antarctica,where snow persists until summer. (Infact, Thomas has trekked as far as NewZealand in search of it.) And, althoughC. nivalis turns red when it “blooms”

above timberline, it is still considereda green algal species. In forested, shadylocations, other snow algal species colorthe snow green, golden, even colorless.

Adept at surviving in both extreme coldand high ultraviolet light, C. nivalis hasa two-color annual cycle. As snowmelts, the red spores from a patch ofwatermelon snow wash down into thesoil, where they rest all winter. Even-tually, they are covered by new dry win-ter snow and subjected to subfreezingtemperatures.

The red spores wait until spring andsummer, when the snow becomes wa-terlogged and light penetrable. In re-sponse to sunlight, red spores germi-nate and send out green gametes (maleor female sex cells containing one-halfthe genetic material of a somatic cell).Each green gamete cell has a tail-likeflagellum, half as long as the cell, whichenables it to “swim” through the wa-tery snow to near the surface. (Theyonly swim 95 percent of the way up,since too much solar radiation at thesurface bleaches and kills the greencells.) The green cells reproduce sexu-ally by fusing in pairs to form zygotespores (or “zygospores”). In response tohigh sunlight and nutrient deficiency,the spores turn red, or “bloom,” andthe cycle starts all over again.

Thomas and others have discoveredthat red cells of snow algae have pro-tective “accessory” pigments, like anatural sunscreen, which he comparesto autumn leaves. He found these pig-ment molecules, called mycosporin-amino acids and astaxanthin esters, insolvent extracts from red spores. Thisprotection is important for the survivalof red spores, because high-elevationsnow fields receive 30 percent more ul-traviolet radiation than that at sea level.

Red blooms of snow algae ringin the spring high above SNARL

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Lichen SourcesCALS publishes the biannualBulletin of the California LichenSociety. It is also developing a da-tabase of lichen density and dis-tribution throughout the state.CALS offers workshops at SanFrancisco State University andconducts local field trips.

A valuable reference book on li-chens is Lichens of California, byMason E. Hale, Jr., andMariette Cole (University ofCalifornia Press, 1988).

A useful website on lichens(with references to many otherinternet sources) has been cre-ated by the AmericanBryological and LichenologicalSociety (ABLS) at the Univer-sity of Nebraska:<http://www.unomaha.edu/~abls>.

In addition to functioning as pollutionmonitors, lichens are used in fields asdiverse as medicine and glaciology.Birds and small mammals harvestlichens for nest building; and the sur-face of lichens offers habitat to micro-scopic animals that are capable of sur-viving desiccation. The ecologicalsignificance of lichens in the soil crustcommunity in colonizing rocks, bind-ing soil particles, and decomposingrock faces is just beginning to be bet-ter understood. — PP

For more information, contact:Janet DoellCalifornia Lichen Society (CALS)1200 Brickyard Way #302Point Richmond, CA 94801E-mail: doell@slip.net

I f you build it, will they come? If you bulldoze vernal pools for development,highway construction, and agriculture, then mitigate elsewhere withhumanmade vernal pools, will all the species return? Probably not, accord-

ing to Robbin Thorp, professor emeritus of entomology at UC Davis.

Thorp emphasizes that the vernal pool habitat is both a community and anecosystem. But, all over California, 90 percent of vernal pool habitats havealready been sacrificed, and mitigation attempts have often replaced once-thrivingecosystems with relatively incomplete ones.

“We’re trying to point out to developers that the (vernal) pools are more thanjust the pools themselves,” says Thorp, who has studied the habitat for thirtyyears, recently with a former doctoral student, Joan Leong. A vernal pool ischaracterized by a clay hardpan with a perched water table forming pools indepressions in the topsoil during winter rains. Specialized seeds are adapted toinundation. As the pools evaporate in the spring, the seeds germinate and forma bathtub-ring effect of showy blooming flowers. Some of the plants’ commonnames — meadowfoam, goldfields, and yellow carpets — reflect their vibrancy.

The plants are dependent for pollination on native bees from upland areas. Thisfact is often overlooked by developers, Thorp says. In his studies of ground-nesting solitary bees, Thorp found that some specialize exclusively on the pollenof the showy vernal pool flowers. “Their whole lifecycle is tuned and keyed tothese plants,” he explains. As solitary bees, the females have no contact withtheir developing young, and they produce only one generation per year. This

Field of dreams fails?Native bees find no home sweethome at manmade vernal pools

Found in very high concentrations,these red accessory pigments absorbblue and ultraviolet light and transferthis energy to chlorophyll, which canincrease the photosynthetic rate ofsnow algae by up to 25 percent. Themore red spores present in snow, thegreater the absorption of both visibleand ultraviolet radiation. In general,fresh snow is very reflective and onlyabsorbs approximately 15 to 20 per-cent of incoming solar radiation (asopposed to a meadow, which absorbs75 to 80 percent, or an ocean, whichabsorbs 60 to 95 percent.) However,red snow can absorb considerably moreradiation than white snow.

Red snow also contains higher concen-trations of bacteria than does whitesnow. When C. nivalis photosynthesize,they excrete 25 percent of the carbo-hydrates they create. This feeds numer-ous bacteria. So, although red snowreally does look and smell (and report-edly tastes) like watermelon, it shouldnot be eaten.

Bacteria are just the beginning of a foodchain based on snow algae. In someparts of the world, red snow also sup-ports insects, spiders, and nematodes,including seething colonies of slimblack snowworms one inch long. Evenbirds can be seen pecking at particlesin the snow. Continually fascinated bythe ability of tiny plants and animalsto survive, even flourish, in such a harshenvironment, Thomas says, “I cannotimagine stopping my work on snowalgae. It’s what I do for fun.“ — EMB

For more information, contact:Bill ThomasScripps Institution of OceanographyUniversity of California, San Diego9500 Gilman DriveLa Jolla, CA 92093-0218E-mail: whthomas@ucsd.edu

Snow algaeContinued from previous page

This bee is a female of a species of the genus Panurginus(family Andrenidae). The females of this species ofsolitary bee specialize in collecting pollen from flowersof Downingia (family Campanulaceae), as shown here.Photo by D. L. Briggs

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Beesites

For more buzz on bees, checkout the following websites:

• The world viewed through ahoneybee’s eyes —<http://cvs.anu.edu.au/andy/beye/beyehome.html>

• The Apitherapy Society, includ-ing bee-sting therapies —<http://www.apitherapy.org/aas>

• “The Wonderful World of Bugs”(consult site index for files contain-ing bee information) —<http://www.insect-world.com/main/six.html>

• USDA Carl Hayden Bee Re-search Center at Tucson, AZ (withinformation on bee diversity, beegardens, Africanized honey bees,and online access to the classicUSDA publication, PollinationHandbook) —<http://gears.tucson.ars.ag.gov>

• USDA Bee Biology and System-atics Laboratory —<http://www.loganbeelab.usu.edu/>

• The University of Florida’sCooperative Extension apiculturenewsletter, APIS —<http://www.ifas.ufl.edu/~mts/apishtm/apis.htm>

• Beekeeping (English only) —<http://www.beekeeping.com/index_us.htm>

• Beekeeping (English, French,Spanish, and German) —<http://www.apiservices.com>

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makes them very vulnerable to habitat loss and also dooms the plants that de-pend on them for pollination. Thorp believes this close association of the flow-ering plants and their host bees has had a long evolutionary history. And whilesome plants have received protection as listed species, the specialist solitary bees,which keep the plants reproducing year after year, tend to be overlooked byconservation efforts.

Developers who mitigate usually do so by constructing a new pool in anotherlocation. Attempting to recreate natural hydrological conditions usually con-sists of building the hardpan, covering it with soil, and inoculating the newenvironment with topsoil taken from the original pool and containing shrimpeggs and cysts, and plant seeds. The new pool fills with water from winter rains.“An instant vernal pool,” comments Thorp. But he concludes, “It’s notsatisfactory.”

Thorp describes one mitigation located at the interchange of I-80 and Highway113 at Davis, CA: “A series of pools is full of water in the spring. When thewater recedes, you see mostly grasses and some goldfields blooming. But we’venever found any specialist bees there.” Thorp says that in order for the bees torecolonize, natural vernal pools must be close by. He points out that the nearestviable habitat is 20 miles away at the NRS’s Jepson Prairie Reserve. This is toofar for the specialist bees to travel in order to colonize the new site.

“Developers are obliged to monitor the new pools for five years before they arewritten off as successful or not,” explains Thorp. “But five years is too short,considering vacillations in the environment.” He estimates that at least fifteenyears of observation are needed to determine whether essential ecological pro-cesses, including pollination, are occurring.

Another mitigation method involves adding pools to an existing vernal poolecosystem in exchange for destroying them elsewhere. “This way, flora and faunacan easily move into the expanded area from a short distance away,” explainsThorp. But he warns that this method is not ideal, either. “For every vernal poolyou create, you’re removing upland area — the habitat for the bees and otherorganisms, like salamanders, that move out of the pools during the dry season.”

Thorp and Leong urge preservation of the entire physical and biological vernalpool ecosystem and its associated upland areas, rather than simply those fewplants that are legally protected.

Their work on vernal pools has been funded by the Department of Entomology,the Institute of Ecology, and the Public Service Research Program at UC Davis;by an NRS Mildred E. Mathias Graduate Student Research Grant; and by theCalifornia Department of Transportation. — PP

For more information, contact:Robbin W. ThorpProfessor EmeritusDepartment of Entomology, UC DavisPhone: 530-752-0482E-mail: rwthorp@ucdavis.edu

W hen scientists speculateupon the ongoing, wide-spread disappearance of

amphibians, they seem to agree thereis probably more than one reason forthe decline. Blame has been assignedto pollution, habitat loss, nonnativespecies that eat or compete with am-phibians, disease, culinary uses, globalclimate change, and increasing ultra-violet (UVB) radiation through thethinning ozone layer. It isthis last possibility that in-terests UC Davis-trainedecologist Lara Hansen.

Hansen investigated howUVB radiation affects theembryos and immune sys-tems of Hyla regilla, thePacific tree frog. “All am-phibians have vascularizedskin through which theyhave varying amounts ofgas exchange,” she ex-plains. “Theoretically, thismakes them more vulner-able to toxins in the envi-ronment.” Hansen choseH. regilla because of itsbroad ecological range: it can be foundas far south as the southern tip of BajaCalifornia and as far north as BritishColumbia, at elevations that rangefrom sea level to more than 3,000 feet.

Hansen conducted field work at threeNRS reserves — Younger Lagoon,Quail Ridge, and the Hastings Natu-ral History Reservation — and at high-altitude sites in the Sierra Nevada.Then, shifting from field to lab, shetook H. regilla eggs, of both high-elevation and low-elevation popula-tions, to a solar simulator to measurethe effects of radiation on the embry-onic development. She replicated fivelevels of UVB: no UVB, subambientUVB, two ambient UVB levels that

bracketed the UVB range existing dur-ing a noon-time high, and an extremelyhigh UVB level, which Hansen be-lieved would quickly kill the eggs, thusproviding her with a positive control.

To her surprise, she “discovered thateven with the really high level of UVB,twice what you’d get at ambient, Icouldn’t kill the embryos.” She did findthat if she continued the experiment

with that same high-level UVB, thetadpoles would die within the next fiveto ten days following hatching. “But,”she said, “I never got significant mor-tality with the ambient doses.”

She did, however, uncover sublethal ef-fects of UVB exposure, including dis-turbed growth rate and relative size.Her decision to compare low- andhigh-elevation populations had beenbased on the theory that high-elevationpopulations are going extinct becauseof enhanced UVB due to stratosphericozone depletion. What she found wasonly the low-altitude tadpoles werenegatively affected by UVB exposure(in both stage and weight); high-alti-tude embryos remained unaffected.

One ecologist sheds some light on worldwide declineof frogs by investigating the UVB connection

It may be that high-altitude amphib-ians are already adapted to high UVBlevels.

Next, Hansen examined the egg-massjellies of H. regilla and Bufo canorus(the Yosemite toad). She has read pre-vious studies regarding other frog spe-cies in which the jelly itself offeredphotoprotection against UVB radia-tion. But the jelly absorbed no UVB.

“At different levels of UVBexposure, the eggs stillhatched, indicating there’ssomething else going on.”She suggests they mayhave adaptive mechanismslike protective pigmenta-tion, a photoprotectivecompound, or DNA re-pair mechanisms. Hansenrealized that for both H.regilla and B. canorus,UVB does not seem to beplaying a role in the popu-lations’ decline — unless,perhaps, it is interactingwith contaminants in theenvironment.

So Hansen returned to the sites whereshe had captured the frogs to see if shecould characterize toxins — for ex-ample, as metals or pesticides — in thefield. “We know that most petroleumby-products, such as polycyclic aro-matic hydrocarbons, are photoactive:they become activated and more toxicwhen exposed to UV light. But there’sstill a bunch of other environmentalpollutants we haven’t tested. Whenpeople do run tests in the lab, they findthat more and more compounds are ac-tivated by UV radiation.” But shewarns: “If you do just single-contami-nant testing, you may never find outwhat’s causing amphibian decline. Itprobably isn’t just one thing. The land-scape, locally and globally, is so full of

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Pacific tree frog (Hyla regilla).Photo by Lara Hansen

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A nonnative threat is swimming in high Sierra lakes. “No one everspent the time or money to study the effects of introduced trout priorto stocking,” says Roland Knapp, research scientist from UC Santa

Barbara’s Marine Science Institute. “So, in effect, fish were put into a ‘blackhole.’” Unfortunately, the “black hole” turned out to be an aquatic hunting groundrich with the mountain yellow-legged frog (Rana muscosa), a California endemicspecies particularly vulnerable to the predatory trout.

Since 1996, Knapp has used the NRS’s Sierra Nevada Aquatic Research Labora-tory (SNARL) as a nearby base for studying declining populations of the moun-tain yellow-legged frog. He teamed up with U.S. Forest Service biologist KathleenMatthews to complete the most extensive survey of frog habitat: fully 2,200(!)lakes and ponds at elevations of 9,500 to 12,000 feet. The air was thin, but nottheir data. For each and every body of water, they collected detailed informationon frogs, fish, invertebrates, and physical lake characteristics.

The Knapp and Matthews study area comprised one-tenth of the entire high-elevation portion of the Sierra Nevada and overlapped two backcountry areas:the John Muir Wilderness (U.S. Forest Service) and King’s Canyon NationalPark (National Park Service). They found that in King’s Canyon, where fishstocking was phased out during the 1970s, frogs still remained in 35 percent oflakes. However, in the John Muir Wilderness, where fish stocking had alwaysbeen more intensive and continues regularly today, frogs remained in only 5percent of lakes.

“Many researchers are looking at pollution, UV radiation, and other factors incausing the disappearance of amphibians around the world,” says Knapp. “Butin this study area, we found that the pattern of decline shown by the mountainyellow-legged frog points strongly to introduced fish as a primary cause.”

More evidence that fish stocking has turned into frog stalking is that frogs gen-erally survive only in trout-free lakes. Says Knapp, “When trout enter a lake,they mow through all the easy-to-eat stuff first, namely the frogs.” And becauseso many lakes have been stocked, few safe frog habitats remain. The researchersfound that 80 percent of the total water surface area, from large lakes to smallponds — primary frog habitat — has been stocked with brook, brown, rainbow,and California golden trout (not the federally threatened Little Kern golden trout).

“If ever a species were vulnerable to trout, it would be the mountain yellow-legged frog,” says Knapp. As an adaptation to the cold, the frog spends two tofour years as a tadpole before metamorphosing into an adult. When shallowwaters freeze during winter, tadpoles are forced into deeper water, where hungrytrout lie in waiting. By contrast, another native amphibian, the Pacific tree frog(Hyla regilla), has managed to survive the introduction of trout. Tree frog tad-poles stay in the fishless shallows and become adults in one summer. In addition,adult tree frogs spend most of their lives away from water. Mountain yellow-legged frogs, on the other hand, are rarely found more than a few hops from a

Native frogs are “sitting ducks”for introduced predators

Continued on page 10

“And why … should anyone careabout the plight of the lowly frog?Because frogs are sentinel speciesthat serve as a window onbiodiversity and ecosystems. Whenfrogs show signs of distress thereis an implicit warning that what isstressing them may well have bear-ing on humans.”

— David B. WakeProfessor of Integrative Biology /

Curator at Museum of VertebrateZoology, UC Berkeley, and

Chair of the UniversitywideNRS Advisory Committee

— Andrew R. BlausteinProfessor of Zoology

Oregon State University

contaminants that it could be a com-bination of them and have nothing todo with UVB.”

Hansen has joined the U.S. Environ-mental Protection Agency in GulfBreeze, Florida, where she is studyingthe effects of UVB on coral. However,she plans to eventually resume her re-search on the adverse effects of UVBon amphibians. Her amphibian workwas funded by the UC Toxic Sub-stances Research and Teaching Pro-gram, the World Conservation Union’sDeclining Amphibian PopulationsTask Force (DAPTF), the SwitzerFoundation (which awarded Hansen itsenvironmental fellowship), the Centerfor Ecological Health Research at UCDavis, and the Association of Womenin Science. — PP

For more information, contact:Lara HansenU.S. Environmental Protection AgencyGulf Ecology DivisionOne Sabine Island DriveGulf Breeze, FL 32561Phone: 850-934-9200E-mail: hansen.lara@epa.gov

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lake — behavior that makes even adult frogs easy targets for trout and hinderstheir ability to colonize other lakes, even at relatively short distances. In a studywhere Knapp eradicated trout from four frogless lakes, frogs reappeared in onlythe one lake that had a healthy population nearby.

Frogs evolved in the high Sierras in the absence of any fish, so it is not surprisingthey appear defenseless against the introduced trout. Fish were unable to colonizemost lakes higher than about 4,000 feet, the same elevation as Yosemite Valley,because they were unable to swim up the waterfalls taller than 6.5 feet typicallyfound at higher elevations.

Fish stocking in the Sierra Nevada began in the middle 1800s, when settlerstransported the fish to easily accessible lakes using milk cans and mules. Stockingintensified and was expanded to the remote backcountry (inaccessible to mules)in the 1950s, when the California Department of Fish and Game starteddropping hatchery-raised fingerlings 200 feet out of airplanes. (Fingerlings aresmall enough to survive the fall.) Even now, each year one million trout arejettisoned into Sierran lakes to support the recreational fishing industry. Accord-ing to Knapp, trout are reproducing well on their own, and regular stocking ofthese nutrient-poor lakes frequently results in an overpopulation of trout that arestunted in their growth.

It is not known exactly how many mountain yellow-legged frogs lived in theSierras prior to stocking. However, in a 1915 study, Joseph Grinnell, renownedco-founder of the UC Berkeley Museum of Vertebrate Zoology, determined thatthe mountain yellow-legged frog was the most common of all amphibians in theSierra range. Now, in 1999, the species is likely to be petitioned for listing asfederally endangered.

Knapp believes the mountain yellow-legged frog can be saved. He does not ad-vocate the end of all stocking, but rather the establishment of a series of frogrefuges by eradicating trout and translocating frogs. He contends that settingaside just 10 percent of lakes, particularly in the backcountry where fishing useis low, could allow the frogs to stage a significant comeback. “It’s not just fishversus frogs,” says Knapp. “For the first time, we have detailed information onthe interactions between frog and fish populations, and this information sug-gests we can make the habitat much better for mountain yellow-legged frogs byremoving fish from some lakes while improving the fishery in other lakes.”

Funding for Knapp’s work has been provided by the U.S. Forest Service and theNational Science Foundation. — EMB

For more information, contact:Roland A. KnappSierra Nevada Aquatic Research Laboratory (SNARL)University of California, Star Route 1, Box 198Mammoth Lakes, CA 93546Phone: 760-647-0034E-mail: knapp@lifesci.ucsb.edu

Continued from previous page

Sitting ducks

Investigating whether the imperiledmountain yellow-legged frog (Ranamuscosa) can defend itself against

hungry trout, UC Berkeley doctoralstudent Vance Vredenburg used thecontrolled artificial environment avail-able at the NRS’s Sierra NevadaAquatic Research Laboratory (SNARL)to monitor tadpole behavior. He washoping to determine if they are able touse their sense of smell to detect thepresence of introduced fish predators.

No one can forget the smell of deadfish. But many do not realize that livefish also leave scent in the water. Odorsare released when fish breathe, flush-ing water in and out of their gills. Inaddition, they constantly produce aslimy, odoriferous coating on their skin,which continually washes away into thewater. Excretions of urine and feces aswell leave behind a scent.

Frogs breathe through their skin andsmell through their skin. By picking upthe predator’s scent, the tadpoles ofmany frog species, including some closecousins of the mountain yellow-leggedfrog, employ defense mechanisms toincrease their chances of survival. Somereact by burrowing into the mud,

Can frogs smelltrouble coming?

Researcher Vance Vredenburgconfronts the subject of his study.Photo by Mary Power

N a t u r a l R e s e r v e S y s t e m11

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swimming to a safe area, freezing inplace, or even excreting toxins.

Studies in Oregon of the native red-legged frog (Rana aurora) revealed thattadpoles exposed to predatory bullfrogs(Rana catesbeiana), a nonnative speciesthat invaded parts of the region justfifty years ago, quickly evolved an abil-ity to detect their scent. Bullfrogs stillmanage to eat many native frogs, butthe frogs’ evolved olfactory abilitieshave improved their survival rates. Red-legged frogs that live separately frombullfrogs still seem to lack the abilityto smell them.

To test whether the mountain yellow-legged frog has evolved similar olfac-tory abilities as its red-legged cousin,Vredenburg devised two sets of “flow-through” tanks at SNARL. Each sethad a small upper tank that drainedthrough a narrow hose to a large lowertank. Tadpoles, some previously ex-posed to trout, were placed in bothlarge lower tanks. One small upper tankcontained fish; the other did not. Allday, every day, Vredenburg pursued thetedious task of monitoring the tadpoles’behaviors. He found that tadpoles intanks receiving “fish water” (carryingthe predator’s scent) acted no differ-ently than the tadpoles receiving“clean” water. In similar experimentswhere tadpoles were placed in the sametanks as trout, they still showed no signsof detecting the fish.

“It’s unfortunate, but not surprising,that the mountain yellow-legged froghas not developed an olfactory sensefor detecting predators as did the red-legged frog,” says Vredenburg. “Themain difference is that fish are muchmore aggressive aquatic predators thanthe bullfrogs, and bullfrogs have a morevaried diet than the fish. The fish eatall the frogs until there are none left.There are no survivors to pass downthis defensive trait.”

To double-check his findings,Vredenburg repeated the experimentsusing the frog’s primary native aquaticpredator, the terrestrial garter snake(Thamnophis elegans elegans), instead offish. Since trout had eaten all the frogsin nearby lakes, Vredenburg had to hike25 miles from SNARL into thebackcountry to find a large populationof frogs coexisting with garter snakesfor the experiment. Upon repeating thetest, he found that tadpoles receiving“snake water” reacted by freezing inplace. This behavior tricks the snakes,which are visual predators attracted tomovement. Says Vredenburg, “A snakecould actually swim right over a tad-pole and not go for it until it movesaround.” Hence the frogs that stayedstill are the ones that survived, passingalong this defensive trait. Frogs andsnakes have coexisted in the high Sier-ras for several thousand years (since theend of the Pleistocene glacial epoch).

(Tadpoles have also learned to avoidnative terrestrial predators that stalkthem from above, such as Clark’s nut-cracker. When these birds and otherthreatening species — including hu-mans — hover over the water, the tad-poles swim away. Consequently, dur-ing his studies, Vredenburg had to becareful not to lean over the tanks.)

“The take-home message of my studywas that the frogs had evolved mecha-nisms to deal with native predators, butnot these introduced fish,” saysVredenburg. “This provides more evi-dence that yes, indeed, frogs are veryvulnerable.” — EMB

For more information, contact:Vance T. VredenburgMuseum of Vertebrate Zoology andDepartment of Integrative BiologyUC BerkeleyPhone: 510-642-7960E-mail: vancev@socrates.berkeley.edu

Frogsites

For more ribbiting info on frogsand other amphibians, check outthe following “webbed” sites:

• The homepages of the DecliningAmphibian Populations Task Force(DAPTF), which operates underthe umbrella of the World Conser-vation Union (IUCN), with linksto many other amphibian sites, in-cluding current and back issues ofFROGLOG, IUCN’s Species Sur-vival Commission —<http://www.open.ac.uk/OU/Academic/Biology/J_Baker/JBtxt.htm>

• The North American AmphibianMonitoring Program (NAAMP),encompassing the U.S., Canada,and Mexico —<http://www.im.nbs.gov/amphibs.html>

• Frogwatch USA, a program ofthe USGS’s Patuxent WildlifeResearch Center, “monitoringfrogs for fun and science” —<http://www.mp2-pwrc.usgs.gov/frogwatch/>

• The Society for the Study of Am-phibians and Reptiles —<http://www.ukans.edu/~ssar/SSAR.html>

One less Rana muscosa. Photo byVance Vredenburg

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The American peregrine falconswooped off the endangered liston August 20, 1999. Thirty

years ago only two breeding pairs wereknown to nest in California. But by theyear 2000, at least 200 breeding pairswill circle the skies above California,says Brian Walton, coordinator of theUC Santa Cruz Predatory Bird Re-search Group (SCPBRG) at Long Ma-rine Laboratory.

Populations of the world’s fastest birdnosedived throughout North Americain the fifties and sixties due to wide-spread environmental contaminationby the pesticide DDT. Peregrines ab-sorb DDT from the air, water, and in-gested prey and can accumulate highconcentrations in their fatty tissues.The stored toxin causes females to laythin-shelled eggs that dry out or crackbeneath the incubating adults.

The Channel Islands, including theNRS’s Santa Cruz Island Reserve, stillhave among the highest levels of thetoxin, because a Long Beach DDTmanufacturing plant dumped its wasteoffshore along the Southern Californiacoast. Although the U.S. banned DDTin 1972, residues persist in the envi-ronment, so some egg mortality still oc-curs and the peregrines have not fullyrepopulated their historic range. Yetsuccessful techniques developed by theSCPBRG for restoring peregrine popu-lations have enabled the raptor to re-cover sufficiently to be removed fromthe endangered species list.

“Two NRS reserves — Big Creek andSanta Cruz Island — are both regionalcenters to the recovery,” says Walton.“That’s where we figured out abouteggshell thinning and the ways popu-

lations expand and disperse. All thebasic research techniques were devel-oped there, which allowed us to man-age the birds everywhere else.”

The SCPBRG has successfully bredperegrines in captivity and releasedthem to the wild from “hackboxes”placed on high cliffs.* Open on oneside, these protective wooden boxes aremodeled after training wagons (or“hack carts”) used by falconers in Eliza-bethan times. Researchers surrepti-tiously place food in them while six-week-old released falcons use them asbases for learning to fly and hunt.

The research group also performedhundreds of switcheroos by rescuingfragile eggs from wild nests, hatchingthem in incubators, and reintroducingthem to wild foster parents — eitherperegrine pairs or more common prai-rie falcons — which raised the chicks

Millennium falcons:Peregrine recoveryresearch takes wingat NRS sites

as their own. Mountain climbing theirway to eyries (cliff-ledge falcon nests),researchers temporarily replaced thereal eggs with fake plasterlike eggs un-til chicks were slipped back in. The fakeeggs looked, felt, weighed, and con-ducted heat the same as real eggs. “Oth-erwise,” says Walton, “the peregrineswould know.”

Walton’s interest in peregrines fledgedwhen he was assigned to write a termpaper on the raptors. He was then aninth-grader attending L.A.’s (aptlynamed) Aviation High School, whichhad a falcon mascot. That was whenhe made his first-ever long-distancephone call: it was to a peregrine expertin Idaho.

“After that call, something clicked inme,” he recalls. “I became obsessed.”Hunting for even more information,he took his first falcon trip: a nerve-

*A wonderful book on SCPBRG — intended for children, enjoyable by all — isCarol Arnold’s Saving the Peregrine Falcon (Minneapolis: Carolrhoda Books, 1985).Glorious photos by Richard R. Hewett. See also SCPBRG’s award-winning website,FalcoNet: <www2.ucsc.edu/~scpbrg>.

Peregrine falcon. Art by Hans Peeters. Courtesy of SCPBRG

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N a t u r a l R e s e r v e S y s t e m13

wracking, six-hour bike ride to theUCLA library alongside the wind tun-nel of speeding cars on Sepulveda Bou-levard. Later peregrine trips includedhis honeymoon in 1974, when he andhis wife surveyed the coast from SanFrancisco to the Oregon border. Butthey found not a single peregrine.

In fact, by the time Walton graduatedfrom high school, only one pair of per-egrines was known to nest in Califor-nia. The nest was on Morro Rock. “SoI moved there and enrolled in the local

college,” he recalls. “I guess that wasan odd way for planning my future. ButI practically lived at Morro Rock.”

Years later, Walton and his familynested for 15 years in the lower quarryof UC Santa Cruz’s campus where theSCPBRG built its original bird-breed-ing facility. This was the next-best thingto his childhood fantasy: “to sit in ahigh, cliffside eyrie and get the feelingfor what a territory was as it lay stretch-ing out beneath and in front of you.”

Walton deeply appreciates the dedica-tion of the hundreds of researchers andvolunteers who helped raise over 800chicks in 25 years. “I’m not exactly surewhat united us in our passion for per-egrines,” he says. “You can admire theirsimple beauty and their dive speeds of200 miles per hour. That is part of thelure of falcons.” — EMB

Editor’s note: The SCPBRG has also bredand released bald eagles, aplomado fal-cons, Harris hawks, and state-endangered

C ities are peregrine habitat, too. The formerheadquarters of the NRS systemwide office inOakland — the Kaiser Building — provides

year-round digs for one breeding pair: they conduct theirhunting forays from the giant blue lettering of the “Kai-ser” logo twenty-eight stories up. This “Oakland Re-serve” offers a bird’s eye view of Lake Merritt, a tidalgathering place for prey of every feather — its five tiny“Duck Islands” being not only the first U.S. bird sanc-tuary, but in fact the nation’s oldest wildlife refuge, es-tablished 1870.

Since the late 1980s, the Kaiser couple has nested in-side a steel member under the eastern span of SanFrancisco’s Bay Bridge. Another peregrine pair nestsunder the western span and dines in San Francisco. Eachbreeding season, the Santa Cruz Predatory Bird ResearchGroup (SCPBRG) rescues chicks hatched on the bridgeto prevent them from fledging into the bay waters. The

SCPBRG also collects eggshells, which are graduallythickening, suggesting that the health of the motherbirds is improving.

Every weekday for seven years, Beverly McIntosh, aCalTrans field biologist and long-time bird-bander atthe NRS’s James San Jacinto Mountains Reserve, hasclosely observed the Kaiser peregrines from her nearbyoffice window on the fourteenth floor, compiling hun-dreds of pages of daily notes. Meanwhile, before hemoved to UC’s new Oakland headquarters on FranklinStreet, John Smail, a data coordinator for UC andformer director of the Point Reyes Bird Observatory,watched the pair from the other side of the KaiserBuilding.

Awed by these once-endangered raptors swoopingamong skyscrapers, McIntosh named the 14-year-oldfemale (now on her third mate): “Her Majesty OurLady Queen of the Sky.” — EMB

Peregrine pair prefers to perchon panoramic print

elf owls. Walton is currently working ona plan to delist the bald eagle, anotherspecies that has suffered the effects ofDDT. He’s also starting a new oiled-birdfacility at SCPBRG at Long Marine Lab.

For more information, contact:Brian WaltonSanta Cruz Predatory Bird ResearchGroup (SCPBRG)UCSC Long Marine LaboratoryPhone: 831-459-2466E-mail: walton@cats.ucsc.edu

Surrogate parent and chicks.Photo courtesy of SCPBRG

Peregrine chick. Photo by Brian C.Latta. courtesy of SCPBRG

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U n i v e r s i t y o f C a l i f o r n i a14

The real life offield researchersContinued from page 3

Sierra Nevada Aquatic Research Lab, addressed this aspectof “field” research: “You more or less bounce around de-pending on funding opportunities. But since I retired in1988, I’ve been on hard money for the first time — mypension. Now they call me ‘Hard-Money Bill.’” (See articlepage 5: “Red blooms of snow algae ring in the spring highabove SNARL.”)

Knowing (and respecting) your limits

No wonder field research is not for everybody. In fact, theresearch life can really take its toll. One tired and disgruntledresearcher, when asked for an interview for this story, re-plied that his answers would not be appropriate for a posi-tive story on researchers. But he wished me luck in findingothers who had a more upbeat view on what he called “thebusiness.”

Making friends while “playing the field”

Oftentimes, the social and intellectual context of the peoplethemselves proves to be one of the greatest rewards of acareer in field science. At NRS sites, for example, research-ers from all disciplines have a chance to get together, shareinformation, and socialize, gaining a broader, interdiscipli-nary understanding of the reserves and their own research.Levin appreciates the close friends she has made during longsea voyages in cozy submarines — especially when the air-lines lose her luggage and her field companions loan herclothing for three weeks. Another researcher quipped thathis friendship with his research partner has outlasted any ofhis marriages!

Living up to higher technological expectations

A variety of advanced technologies — used for DNA analy-sis, data recording, species tracking, computing, digitalgraphics, remote sensing, and more — have changed thelandscape of environmental research in this century.Dataloggers, once the size of a steamer trunk, now fit inyour hand. In many cases, the compass and spiral note-book have been replaced by GPS and GIS. But advancedtechnologies also create higher expectations. Field research-ers can no longer rely exclusively on the knowledge theyhave acquired in such specialized fields as, say, geology orbotany or entomology. In this computer age, researchersmust also possess the skills of a mechanical and electricaltechnician, computer specialist, and data manager.

Asking the right questions

Like on the TV game show Jeopardy, the answers in natureare provided before the questions are asked. And when re-searchers ask the right questions, then understanding fol-lows. Although researchers want their work to make a sig-nificant difference for science and the environment, theyquickly learn they must maintain a realistic sense of scope,by narrowing down the possibilities and asking focusedquestions. Mark Stromberg, reserve manager of the NRS’sHastings Natural History Reservation, is working to restorenative perennial grassland in Carmel Valley. When he firstcame to the area, he was dismayed by the patchwork ofwhat he calls “barnyard weeds from Spain” supplanting therolling hills of native California grassland. “It’s like findinga jigsaw puzzle in pieces and no one else notices,” he says.“I’d love to figure out how the pieces go together, but maybeI’ll settle for just figuring out what the pieces are!”

“It can take years to gain an insight, even into a single spe-cies,” adds UC Berkeley researcher Walter Koenig. For over25 years, he has lived at the Hastings Reserve, studying theacorn woodpecker. More often found in the treetops thanon the ground, Koenig believes that nature itself often picksresearch projects for you. “In many cases, you simply stumbleupon things you didn’t have time to see when you werebusy focusing on the questions you thought you were in-terested in at the start,” he says. “I often wonder how manypeople do their two- or three-year projects taking data on aparticular aspect, thereby missing everything really inter-esting that their species is doing behind their backs!”

Some researchers seem to locate their topics by followingpheromones, and later they simply cannot explain the al-most chemical-like attraction that drew them to these re-search subjects. “I don’t know exactly why my researchturned out to be lizards and not, say, ungulates or someother type of animal,” says Allan Muth, reserve manager ofthe NRS’s Boyd Deep Canyon Desert Research Center. “Iguess it’s like you just somehow know when you’ve foundthe right one.”

With the limitless complexities in environmental fieldwork,the researcher’s job is never done. Bowler explains: “Onecould spend many lifetimes studying natural habitats, be-cause the more we think we know, the more we realize thatthere is much more to be learned.” And Knapp adds: “Forsome, realizing that we can never learn everything is part ofthe attraction. It reminds us there are forces greater thanourselves. Nature puts us in our place.”

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N a t u r a l R e s e r v e S y s t e m15

Who’s where in the NRS?

In a change in NRS administrative structure at UC SantaBarbara, David Coon, director of UCSB’s Envi-ronmental Health and Safety Office, will serve as ad-

ministrative advisor for the UCSB NRS. He will also serveas an ex-officio member of the UCSB NRS Advisory Com-mittee, advising that group on environmental health andsafety, administrative services, and community outreach.To contact Coon, phone: 805-893-4127; e-mail:dave.coon@ehs.ucsb.edu.

Cristina Sandoval and Kevin Lafferty, long-time stewardsof Coal Oil Point Reserve, were recently designated resi-dent reserve directors for that site. To contact them, phone:805-893-8249 (Sandoval), 805-893-8778 (Lafferty); e-mail:sandoval@lifesci.ucsb.edu, lafferty@lifesci.ucsb.edu.

Virginia (“Shorty”) Boucher was selected this summer tobecome NRS reserve manager at UC Davis. Formerly co-manager of UC Berkeley’s Sagehen Creek Field Station nearTruckee (1989-1994) and the NRS’s Sedgwick Reserve inthe Santa Ynez Valley (1994-1999), Boucher is now work-ing with reserve steward Dan Tolson to oversee and de-velop four UC Davis-administered NRS sites: Jepson Prai-rie, McLaughlin, Quail Ridge, and Stebbins Cold Canyon.To contact Boucher, phone: 530-752-6949; e-mail:vlboucher@ucdavis.edu.

New to the NRS is Michael Williams, who this Septembertook up the position of resident reserve manager for theNRS’s Sedgwick Reserve, a UC Santa Barbara-administeredsite. Williams has been district botanist for the U.S. Bureauof Land Management in Nevada (1979-1981), manager ofUC’s Sagehen Creek Field Station (1981-1985), and headof Michael P. Williams Consulting, an environmental con-sulting firm formed in 1988. To contact Williams, phone:805-686-1941; e-mail: wyethia@earthlink.net.

Finally, this past spring, two men dedicated to the NRS atUC Santa Barbara were commended for outstanding con-tributions to both the NRS and UC: Dan Dawson, resi-dent director, Valentine Eastern Sierra Reserve (comprisedof the Sierra Nevada Aquatic Research Laboratory and Val-entine Camp), for 20 years of extensive service in every con-ceivable aspect of site management and development; andWayne Ferren, director of Carpinteria Salt Marsh Reserveand associate director of the UCSB NRS, for managerialexcellence, including creation of an award-winning man-agement plan for his site. To contact them, phone: 760-935-4334 (Dawson), 805-893-2506 (Ferren); e-mail:dawson@icess.ucsb.edu, ferren@lifesci.lscf.ucsb.edu.

Answering the call of the wild— and making a life of it

Some scientists seem to have been born with a research gene— or, at least, were called to their work at a very early age.Thomas, who would eventually spend over 40 years as aresearch scientist at UC’s Scripps Institution of Oceanogra-phy, began his career on his own while he was still in hisearly teens. Some people his age had their own garage bands— with his father’s permission, young Bill had his own ga-rage laboratory. And on the garage roof, he grew experi-mental bean plants, adding different nutrient solutions tosee what would happen. Now in his seventies, Thomas con-tinues to plow through snow algae studies at SNARL.

Other researchers seem to have heard their calling almostby accident. While passing time working a summer job be-fore medical school, Harrison discovered her passion forfield research while crawling on her belly on the grassy bluffof the NRS’s Bodega Marine Reserve. She was assistingformer reserve steward John Maron by counting inverte-brates and identifying exotic weeds. “Suddenly I had a bigrevelation,” she says. “The two halves of my brain cametogether — the half that loves nature, thinks it’s wonderful,and wants to protect it, and the half that likes to learn,analyze, and discover. That’s when I discovered: this is me.”

Ultimately, most field researchers do what they do simplybecause they enjoy the life it brings them. Some are moti-vated by the discoveries they make; others draw their great-est pleasure from the process. “We’re just boys who nevergrew up,” says Muth. “There’s the occasional eureka, but,you know, we just love lizards. My field research partner,Mark Fisher, and I will be out there in the desert, and it willbe a really hot day, and we just look at each other and say,‘You know, we could be in an office right now.’ But some-one has to do this work, and we love it.” — EMB

Coachella Valley fringe-toed lizard (Uma inornata),looking smug after receiving a couple of decades ofresearch attention from field scientist Allan Muth.Photo by Jim Cornett. Courtesy of The NatureConservancy (TNC)

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place on an alarmingly large scale —most notably, climate change, ozonedepletion, widespread irreversible lossesin biodiversity, and fragmentation ofecosystems. These changes pose dan-gers to the health, the economic wel-fare, and, indeed, the long-term sur-vival of human civilization.

Approaches to solving environmentalproblems encounter a tangle of poorlyunderstood scientific, sociological, andeconomic issues. Concern is growingboth within the scientific communityand among the general public. TheSustainable Biosphere Initiative (SBI)of the Ecological Society of America(ESA)* states that “among the mostcritical challenges facing humanity arethe conservation, restoration, and wisemanagement of the Earth.” There isconsensus that we understand far toolittle of the functioning of the bio-sphere, but, paradoxically, that the suc-cessful management of the biospheremust be science-based.

In this context, the NRS is a treasure.Its diverse reserves offer researchersunique opportunities for manipulativeresearch, with secure sites for long-termmonitoring of environmental change.The reserves are also the field laborato-ries for the training of many graduateand undergraduate students — the fu-ture stewards of the biosphere.

Yet this treasure — the NRS — remainspoorly equipped for the challenges ofits increasingly important, multiplemissions. Its physical facilities, staffing,and graduate-student support arebareboned. The vision for the imme-diate future of the system is constrainedby these realities. The NRS mustrapidly garner support for the construc-tion of adequate research and instruc-tional facilities at a number of sites,increase the budget for staff andresident researchers, and significantlyincrease fellowship support for fieldstudies by graduate students.

The investment required is modest rela-tive to that currently contributed bysociety to other research and educa-tional endeavors. The rewards are likelyto be appreciably greater.

* The ESA was founded in 1915; the SBIoffice was established in 1992.