A Bug's Life

Kevin Hernandez - UNT Social Science Major

January 28th is a characteristically warm “winter” day for North Texas. A slight breeze makes it pretty much perfect and there is almost no one outside doing what I am doing or even just being outside for the sake of being outside. I am observing an area around an oak tree when I notice a ladybug at my feet walking across the sidewalk to the wood chips and greenery. She (or he) is a pale orange and has fourteen spots. She flexes her wings but makes no indication of making this moment fleeting. Instead, she walks, at a very leisurely pace and her path meanders through the fallen dead leaves. In the course of the roughly 30 minutes I watched her, she barely makes it to the two paces to the tree. This makes this somewhat of an exercise in patience. It turns out a bug’s life is not so exciting. More specifically, the ladybug, who will now be referred to as Scarlet, is a beetle. And more generally, a ladybug actually refers to a large umbrella of many different kinds of such. Ranging from brown with white spots to yellow with black spots to black with red spots to even no spots, this ladybug is one that many are familiar with. But how familiar? I found myself asking questions that most people who aren’t observing a bug would probably never ask. I noticed, although she flexed her wings, she chose not to fly when the gap between leaves or sticks was greater than what she could stretch to. Is the energy expenditure too great? Can its small wings carry its bulbous body very far? Then I noticed her cross paths with a black ant and, to my disappointment, there was no bug fight. In aquariums, the fish don’t eat each other because they are well fed or are, obviously, not carnivorous. Does the same principle apply here? Additionally, as in the aquarium, acknowledgement of the other is nearly nonexistent even among similar species. As organisms become less complex what is lost on them that we have gained? Now in returning to being well fed, I was aware of the fact that ladybugs are a natural enemy and efficient predator of the aphid. Aphid, is another umbrella term, used for those small usually green pests that destroy crops. Contrary to their appearance and given personas, ladybugs can actually be quite the carnivore, some even eat other beetles and larva. So, in her short journey, where was she going? What was the goal, if not to find one of these sources of food? Perhaps and honestly there wasn’t one but I did learn that it isn’t exactly about that. It’s more about the importance of exploring on your own and being curious about the world around you.

How much do UNT students interact with one another while walking to class?

Arron Cannon - UNT Geography Major

 

At first the experience of observing random UNT students as they walked to and from class was a tad awkward for me. I felt as if I were spying on the unknowing UNT students and judging their behavior on why or why not they interacted with each other but after a few short minutes I realized that this experiment was also for me, to see if I could be observant to the world going on around me. In the beginning of my short social experiment I asked myself whether or not electronic devises played a role in students being antisocial. Almost 7/10 students were preoccupied with some sort of electronic device but even the students that were not using their phones, laptops or headphones were just as antisocial as the ones that were in fact in an electronic trance. So I denounced electronic devise being the reason why hardly any UNT students interacted with each other. One particular student wearing clothing that would be associated with working-out stopped another female UNT student with the same type of athletic wear and I assume asked a question but I cannot confirm whether or not a question was asked since I was too far away to hear the short conversation between the two. I then made a very broad assumption about the experiment I was conducting that students who shared a common interest with one another were more likely to interact with each other. By this time fifteen or so minutes had passed and I found myself searching the area for more students that were interacting but to no avail. I was sitting on a bench right outside the Environmental Science Building at UNT so my position was in plain sight, and the only students that noticed me were a couple of fellow geographers. The two guys I had known from previous classes asked me what I was doing so instead of quickly explaining what was going on in the hopes they would leave me alone in my social experiment I decided to make them involved. I asked if they would like to help me in the name of science, they both smirked and said “ok”. I then instructed them to haphazardly select a UNT student they did not know and start a conversation. Only one was bold enough to take part and after the first awkward failed attempt I concluded that was more than enough evidence I needed for this experiment plus the instructor waved us in. I found that other than the two female students that quickly engaged in conversation no other students had a slight inclination of others around them.

Divots and Thorns

Jacob Korte - UNT History Major

Today was very interesting, being our first real time to view the Mandala each of us had chosen. I spent essentially my whole time looking at the same dead Mexican plum plant, something that I never would have done in the past, spending thirty minutes looking at the same plant and writing all the aspects of the plant is not something I would have called fun. However doing so was quite amusing and I noted much about this plants that I would have overlooked or not even bothered to consider, which has lead me to a yearning to learn more about the Mexican plum species. It can also be noted how alien it felt to dedicate so much time to a plant not even a whole park or what have you but a single plant and it’s immediate area.

My viewing of this particular Mexican plum has given me some questions as to the plant itself, such as if it is native to grow so far north of Mexico, or even if “Mexican plum” is an accurate name as to the origin of the species. Does this species actually grow plums? Does it remain a shrub or will it eventually become a plum tree, which is in my knowledge the only kind of plum bearing plant. Why does it have only a handful of thorny growths, why wouldn’t it have more if they were meant as protection? I was also able to notice the bark and relate it to things besides bark, it was smooth when rubbed in a certain direction, there were notable circular divots within the bark and these ridges could be felt when rubbed the other direction. These circular patterns reminded me for some reason of ancient pottery, the kind made with rope wrapped around the outside, it seemed like a small cord or wire had been carefully wrapped around the branches creating the pattern. The plant was still in winter mode and doesn’t seem to be cold-adapted as there are no leaves to be seen, however it is slowly creeping out of this dead state and new branches are forming, the color is very noticeable being a reddish or rust color perhaps being the reason for being called plum. Outside of my plant I saw some other interesting things occurring in nature around the base of the plant, which like everything else I viewed would probably have never caught my eye otherwise. Such as a tiny green bud only about half the length of my index fingernail, which was so much more vibrant than the ground around it, that it caught my eye pretty quickly. There were also a pair of red ants at the base of the plant, I couldn’t find a nest nearby, it is curious how far they traveled in what I assume is a quest for food.

It never seems to occur to people how interesting the world is around them, always in a rush or with their own thoughts nobody, myself included, has probably noticed details in what surrounds them if they even notice what surrounds them at all. This is a pretty depressing thing, thinking about how disconnected to nature we have become and even from each other as some of my classmates pointed out in their own journals.

Cold Engine Starting

Preston LaFarge - UNT Anthropology Major

Today was the first day our class spent time observing our own Mandalas. Given my busy work week with school and jobs, having time to sit outside on a sunny day is rare treat. When tasked with observing our Mandalas I could not help but feel like a cold engine starting. My observations from the first minuets are lethargic and distracted. But as I began to settle into a pattern of observation the whole Mandala came to life. 

There is a certain pleasure that comes from noticing something new when revisiting an area. When I first looked at two tree species in my mandala, the eastern redbud and the wild plum, I had written down that there is “not much change in the trees.” It was not until I had noticed new growth on adjacent trees that I went back and looked at the first set of trees, and sure enough I noticed similar new growth. The growth pattern of the two trees were interesting. The plum seemed to have new growth coming from the tips of older branches with little bud points whereas the redbud had long, new branch growth coming from the ground in addition to older branches. I can remember redbuds typically flowering the earliest of most native species in the region.   

It makes me wonder how much I have overlooked because I did not give something a second glance. 

I had a similar feeling of pleasure when I observed a community of plants that I thought was only made up of henbit. But upon closer inspection I found 3 or 4 additional species growing between the henbit and other plants. From larger species to smaller species there was an infinite amount of detail that I was not aware of until I acclimated myself to the Mandala.

The first day reminded me how much can actually be seen when one has the intention of observation.

Observing Environmental Observations: Ethnobiology Unseen Post 1

Chris Buchanan - UNT Integrative Studies Major

For my first blog entry, I chose to sit on a cement bench in front of the Environmental Science building and observe the behavior of students as they entered and exited the building. I was particularly interested in observing the amount of attention that they paid to the natural environment around them. My hypothesis before beginning the observations was that the students would not pay much attention to the natural world around them, but instead, focus on each other or their cell phones. To a degree, I was correct in that the majority of the students that passed by stared straight ahead, at the other people passing by, or down at their cell phones. However, I was surprised by the number of students who actually did pay attention to the environment around them. I also noticed that the majority of the people that did were female. Only one person in a thirty minute observation, a female student, looked down at the dead leaves that were constantly blowing in circles around their feet. Two other women were sitting on concrete benches working on their computers. Although most of their attention was focused on their work, I assume that they chose to work outside to experience the openness of the environment, today’s warm weather, or the cool breeze that makes this warm winter day feel like fall. The one male that I noticed paying attention to the environment around him, seemed to be entranced by it. He was leaning on a brick wall to my right, with headphones in his ears, staring directly into a small patch of bushes and trees in front of him. The same patch that was ignored by almost everybody that entered or exited the building. Because he was wearing sunglasses, it was difficult to determine what exactly he was staring at. He did this for at least fifteen minutes before he left.

Coming into this exercise, I honestly did not know what to expect in the behavior of the students that I was observing. I also did not know what to expect in terms of the way that the exercise would affect the way that I view the natural environment around me. While I sat there for half an hour, observing my environment, I was overwhelmed by how much more life existed in the small area that I walk past four days a week. I also realized how easy it is for people, including myself, to ignore the environment around them and focus on their destination, their own personal issues, or their cell phones. I am as likely to do this as any of the people that walked by me this afternoon. However, one thirty minute session of sitting still and observing my environment has undoubtedly had an impact on the amount of attention that I will pay to it in the future. I am excited to see what the impact of a whole semester of observations will be.

Minnows and Yellowjackets: Day 1 Observations

Skip Warren - UNT History Major

It is unseasonably warm in north Texas today. A strong south wind (low pressure west) means the weather will change soon. There are high, overcast stratus clouds. I am standing at the source of a man-made stream designed as a waterfall spilling over local woodbine sandstone. The water forms a depression where silt and dead leaves have settled through the winter. A rock-island creates a less turbulent area behind it where minnows have gathered in the calm. They obviously don’t like turbulent water and stay huddled together swimming in a tight little area. They number about fifteen and range in size from an inch and smaller. They’re very well camouflaged (French word for “to play a joke), light brown silt color. They’re swimming in a completely isolated zone free from predators. I know that pond sliders are part of the stream’s environment but they have been moved for the season. One may think them unable to climb the various water obstacles that normally separate them from the minnow’s area, but in the past I have observed one particularly determined individual that worked for thirty minutes in climbing over this barrier. That could create havoc in the minnow community. But for now they’re safe. I suppose an egret or other waterfowl could make an approach to the water even in this confined space, if they’re qualified enough for short landings. That could pose a problem for the minnows. The place reminds me of a story about certain areas along the Congo River in Africa where water is so swift it has partitioned off fish in a permanent fashion leading to the formation of a unique species over evolutionary time. The only thing flying today is a lone yellow-jacket flying a haphazard route through yucca plants. He finally gained altitude and let the wind assist him north out of the area. No birds today at any altitude. No humans were seen walking by.

Incremental Learning: Initial Exploration of the Campus Unseen

Campus Unseen is a collection of essays written by students in the spring semester, 2015 Ethnobiology class at the University of North Texas. The essays are an inductive experiment concerning what types of observations students make when they spend a reliable period of time each week in the same small area, outdoors, over the course of a semester. The idea for this experiment comes from two major sources, the recognition by ethnobiologists that people in societies that spend much of their time outdoors more easily adopt a conservation ethic (see papers by Eugene Hunn and Nancy Turner and Fikret Berkes on this subject, in particular). The second source of inspiration for this exercise is the book The Forest Unseen: A Year’s Watch Nature by David Haskell. Through regular visits to a small area, which he referred to as a mandala, Haskell was able holistically explore biology, ecology, and ethnobiology. Today was the first day of the exercise, and students were simply charged with finding a place (a mandala) and to spend time there observing and contemplating the outdoors around them. As the professor of this class, I am hoping they will connect their experiences with the contemplations and observations written about by the ethnobiological scholars whose works we will read this semester. Will they contemplate elements of place? Early indications are that the answer is yes; the next series of posts are their initial observations. I look forward to seeing how the places they observe change with the seasons, during a time in which their familiarity with this process grows. I also look forward to hearing about what they learn and to noticing what I learn in the process. Welcome to the Campus Unseen.

Haskell, D. G. (2012). The Forest Unseen: A Year's Watch in Nature. Penguin.
Hunn, E. (2014). To Know Them is to Love Them. Ethnobiology Letters, 5, 146-150.
Turner, N. J., & Berkes, F. (2006). Coming to understanding: developing conservation through incremental learning in the Pacific Northwest. Human Ecology, 34(4), 495-513.