What is a Scientist: Publishing

This is the second post in my ‘What is a Scientist?’ series. There seems to be a lot of distrust of scientists by a large section of the population. My hope is that sharing some of my perspectives and experiences as a scientist will help build trust.

To understand anything, or anyone, I think that it helps to think about motivating factors. Why did they just give me that free t-shirt? Perhaps they want me to be a walking advertisement. Why did she smile at me? Maybe she enjoys being friendly, and/or is about to ask me for something. Why did our dog just put his chin on my leg? He is probably hungry, smells that I have salmon on my plate, and knows that with him at least I’m a pushover. Etc.! To better understand what it is to be a research scientist (hereafter: scientist), you might ask yourself: why are they pecking away at their computer so much? Publishing, based on my experience, is often perhaps the biggest motivator for scientists.

Perhaps you’ve heard the term ‘publish or perish’ regarding an author of some kind. It is a daunting statement, but it does succinctly convey a truth for a scientist: a big part of your job is to make your findings available. If you don’t, then you might lose your job or fail to get one. In order do research, a scientist often has to acquire grant money, some of which their employer uses to fund operations (e.g., to ‘keep the lights on’). Many research-intensive institutions decide whether or not to hire or continue employing a scientist based largely on how much grant money that researcher has acquired. There is a lot of competition, between scientists, for grant money. They write research proposals in order to acquire grant money and a part of the decision about who receives that money is based on the ability of researchers to publish their results, which can be demonstrated by past publications, especially those that have been cited many times and/or have been published in prestigious journals. So, publications can lead to grants, which can lead to more publications, and the cycle is able to continue in the absence of disruption.

Scientific publishing can take a long time even after the hard work of designing a study, collecting data, writing about what you found, and submitting the manuscript to a journal. After a manuscript is submitted, an editor must decide if it seems like it could be a good fit for the journal (each journal has different scopes and levels of prestige). If so, then the manuscript is sent to at least 2, often more, ‘peer reviewers.’ These are other scientists with expertise in the research area that the study focuses on who have volunteered to offer their time to help curate discipline-specific knowledge. Ideally, these usually anonymous peer reviewers will fairly and thoroughly consider everything that you, as a researcher, did in the study to ensure that it is valid and useful before the work is published. They may suggest that your manuscript be rejected, accepted (which is rare without revisions), or that it be edited to address their comments before further consideration. Then the ‘ball is back in the court’ of the researcher(s) who submitted the manuscript. If their manuscript hasn’t been totally rejected, then they will likely get to work on addressing the comments by making changes or thoroughly explaining why a change wasn’t made. Another round of peer review may occur or, if the editor so decides, the manuscript could be accepted or rejected without further peer review. There is more nuance to this whole process, and a lot to say just about who pays for publications, though hopefully this level of explanation has helped you to understand why a scientist might be having a bad (or good) day. Rejections, of course, hurt. And it tends to feel good when articles are accepted.

Me putting on a brave (and silly) face for the camera at my workstation.

Especially regarding research results that gain a lot of political attention, I’ve noticed that critics of results will seem to imply that the research team came to this or that conclusion because for some reason that is what they wanted to find. For example, someone on TV might suggest that a study which projected that the average global temperature will be 5 degrees F warmer in 2100 than it is now found that result because of political motivation. The peer review process, though it can be maddening for scientists, is meant to filter out biased and otherwise flawed studies. And, generally, I think this process does a pretty good job at protecting the integrity of science. It is certainly OK to be skeptical of the results of scientific studies, and I think that all good scientists should be until the authors of the study have convinced them via what they wrote not to doubt the results. Rarely (I think) scientific fraud does occur and makes it past peer review, like in this case (story here), but virtually all scientists know that making up data and getting caught will result in the end of their career. I have one other thought about what I’ve noticed people on TV/radio sometimes say. Uninformed and/or compromised commentators often accurately point out that different scientific studies come to different conclusions about the subject of interest (e.g., evolution) and then misleadingly suggest that this proves that the whole scientific process is invalid. In reality, disagreements are a crucial part of science (as for many worthy pursuits) and with time the preponderance of evidence should lead towards the truth, or something near it. Hopefully this provides some reassurance that, though scientific publishing is far from perfect, when done right it can provide valuable information that has been scrutinized and vetted by people very knowledgeable about the topic at hand.  

The scrutiny that is inherent in the scientific process, however, can make talking to scientists frustrating to people who don’t understand why scientists are the way that they are. For example, someone might ask a scientist, ‘so, are the cattails good for marsh birds?’ The answer might begin with something like, ‘well, that depends on what species of cattail and marsh birds you are talking about. It also depends on what you mean by good (for reproduction, concealment, food) and how long the cattails have been there…’ Etc. My point here is that often it seems like a scientist isn’t giving you a straight answer when, probably, they are just trying to be careful not to say something that is wrong because they are used to being harshly criticized if they do so during the peer-review process. Personally, I think that there is a time and a place for simplifying answers and we all need to think hard about when to sacrifice accuracy to achieve a degree of accessibility that might inspire someone to dive deeper into a subject themselves.

Please remember that this is just one scientist’s perspective regarding publishing in science. I think it would be great if people commented to offer thoughts and/or constructive criticism about my explanation and so demonstrate how the idea of peer review works! If that doesn’t happen, then at the very least hopefully this has helped you to better understand that special scientist in your life.

Advertisement

Been

It is fall again! Which probably got me thinking about change and memories. Kind of like watching colorful leaves blow away, friendship can be bittersweet. Anyway, that’s how I was feeling when I wrote and recorded another song that I thought I’d share:

What is a Scientist? Conferences

This is the first post in my ‘What is a Scientist?’ series. There seems to be a lot of distrust of scientists by a large section of the population. My hope is that sharing my perspectives about some of my experiences as a scientist can help build trust.

What is a Scientist? Conferences

I grew up knowing very little about what being a practicing scientist meant. I probably thought that all scientists wore a lab coat, that they had to be really smart, or that I couldn’t understand what they did even if I tried. I imagine that many people probably have similarly misguided thoughts about what it means to be a scientist.

In this post, I’ll reflect on my first attendance at a scientific conference. This experience was about 10 years ago and helped me understand what scientists do. I’ll also reflect on a conference that I attended earlier this year. During that time span, I went from being someone who knew basically nothing about science to someone who actually feels like a scientist. I’ll share how my opinions have evolved from when I was a somewhat blindly rebellious, 20-year-old to whatever I am now (maybe in 10 years I will have an opinion about that).

In the fall of 2012, when I attended my first conference, I was beginning my third year in an undergraduate wildlife science program. My favorite classes up to that point were those which focused on identifying, and memorizing the Latin names of, many different species. I especially enjoyed getting to know the trees of Indiana. Just a couple summers before, I had completed my first field job, which involved documenting bird occurrences throughout the Hoosier National Forest. Camping, hiking, solitude, and birds. Really a great job. In class that semester, I was just beginning to get experience with collecting data and writing about it but I certainly did not understand much about the whole process of creating and sharing scientific knowledge. In other words: I had recently gained some understanding regarding many of the different parts of Nature, which I greatly enjoyed, but I had very little knowledge about how to more deeply understand and create/share knowledge about how those parts interacted.

That year, I was lucky enough to join my university’s student chapter of The Wildlife Society to the annual conference for that society, which happened to be across the continent in Portland, Oregon. Which is a cool city! I remember arriving to the hotel near the conference center and feeling like an explorer in a foreign wilderness, given that I had no idea what to expect regarding conferences. I didn’t have anything to present. I knew few people and wasn’t particularly good friends with anyone I was with. Therefore, it was a great opportunity to meet new people and learn from them. At the time, though, I was for the most part still too shy to try to meet new people. So, as I recall, my first conference experience was largely a solitary one.

To be honest, there aren’t many specific things that I remember about the trip to Portland for that conference. I wish I had taken better notes back then. I remember visiting Multnomah Falls during a field trip, my heart beating startlingly fast as a participant in a wildlife-themed quiz bowl in front of hundreds of people, and unintentionally annoying at least one of my travel-mates by wandering off one day when we were all in the food truck area. I also remember a networking event when I got to meet Purdue alumni and learn about their careers. During my free time, I probably visited Powell’s Books and Voodoo Doughnut, which I’d recommend.

Me near Portland in 2012, at Multnomah Falls

One thing I definitely remember, however, was a feeling I had in the sprawling conference center, where there were many different rooms that were designated for specific wildlife science disciplines. For example, there might have been a room for invasive species management, another for endangered species conservation, etc. And in each of these rooms people met to either present talks or listen to others speak. There were also ‘poster sessions,’ where people stood by posters that described their research and hoped someone would stop by to talk to them. The feeling I remember when I was wandering from room to room, and from poster session to session, was disappointment/disgust. I distinctly remember feeling that presenters tended to care more about advancing their careers than about conserving/managing wildlife. I felt like everyone was focusing so much on their own discipline that they were missing the bigger picture. And it didn’t seem to me that people had the deep personal connection and adoration for Nature that had gotten me interested in wildlife science.  

A view from Portland in 2012. Note Mt. Hood in the distance.

I will be the first to admit that at that point in my life I was too quick to feel strongly and to jump to drastic, unnuanced conclusions. During my first conference experience I had a romanticized view of what it meant to be a wildlife biologist and had a tendency to rebel against just about anything. I think that much of what I felt then was wrong. I’m sure that most people at that conference did very much care about improving our ability to conserve and manage wildlife. Many people there probably had a far greater knowledge of other disciplines than I did. And certainly a large proportion of them had a deeper ‘connection’ with Nature than I could even begin to understand. However, despite my immaturity at the time, I have often thought back on my initial impressions of a scientific conference and have tried to maintain a couple traces of wisdom I had while still ‘outside of the system.’ As I’ve joined the scientific community, by sharing knowledge at conferences and via scientific articles, I’ve tried to remind myself of a couple important things based on what I saw as a somewhat blind, 20-year-old outsider:

  1. There are a lot of important things I should try to understand outside of my narrow area of expertise. I should seek a broad understanding. However, there is nothing wrong with a specific research focus.
  2. While some self-promotion may be necessary to continue doing science, it shouldn’t be the reason for doing science. Personally, I have chosen to do science to help conserve the natural world, not to feed my ego.  

Another thing that I didn’t think much about then, but do now, is the ecological footprint of conferences. It seems striking to me that so many people who think about the effects of climate change seem to travel vast distances by plane without considering their Carbon footprint. For this reason, I actually think that the switch to virtual conferences that happened during the worst of COVID was a good thing that shouldn’t be totally abandoned. But I suppose that should be a discussion for another post!

After attending my first conference, I completed my Bachelor’s in wildlife science, then my Master’s in applied ecology. I held several wildlife-focused positions and am now hopefully in the last year of my PhD in earth and ecosystem science. It has been a long road to understanding how data are collected, analyzed, and presented. This February, I rode along with some students from my university to Des Moines, Iowa for the Midwest Fish and Wildlife Conference, where I presented my research focusing on king rail habitat (which is now rare in the Midwest). It was a long ride in a van, and there was an intense snowstorm, but we made it there and back.

My travel group and I on the way to and from Des Moines.

Though I enjoyed the company of my travel-mates, I consciously chose while there to try to meet new people at the conference. I’ve come to understand that perhaps the biggest value of a conference is simply to make connections. So, during the first breakfast, I joined someone who was sitting alone and as a result learned a bit more about the consulting industry in wildlife. At social events, though I checked in with my travel mates, I tried to be available to people I didn’t know who might be interested in talking about their science and/or other experiences.

I also very much enjoyed learning from a variety of talks and posters. I made a point to go to talks outside of my area of expertise. For example, I was fascinated by a talk about how turtles have moved around a campus in Missouri over many years. I also enjoyed the ‘plenary’ sessions, which were times when everyone from the conference could come together to listen to a speaker or speakers. I found it especially useful to learn more about Neonicotinoids, a type of pesticide used in agriculture that can likely have very negative effects on wildlife.  

And then, toward the end of the conference, it was time for me to present my research. Though I had presented posters at conferences, and talks at my universities, it was my first talk at a conference. I was excited for the opportunity to share with managers and others who could help king rails about what I had found out regarding the needs of this species. In addition to most of my travel-mates, who were kind enough to attend my talk, there were probably twenty or so people in the room when I presented four around 15 minutes. I hope that they enjoyed learning about what habitat king rails use and how much.

A view from Des Moines in 2022.

I wonder if any of the attendees of my talk felt like I had in 2012 when attending the talks of others. Did they think that I was hyper-focused on king rails and didn’t appreciate other topics? Did they think that I was just trying to promote myself? Did they think that I didn’t feel a connection with Nature? Perhaps. As a scientist, I’ve learned that I do need to stick to what I know when presenting. I probably shouldn’t speculate much about the patterns of ocean currents during a talk about king rail habitat in the Great Lakes region. And, regarding self-promotion, it is a fact that my career as a scientist will end if no one knows what I’ve been doing. So, I have to share and this may come across as an ego-driven activity. But in reality, I simply have to share what I’ve done to be able to keep doing what I love: being in and trying to understand/conserve Nature. Perhaps this goal of mine comes across in scientific talks, but the fact is that I’m there to present information and someone, like my former self, could mistakenly conclude that I don’t ‘feel a connection’ to Nature. In reality, becoming an ecologist has helped me to feel more connected to the world and its inhabitants than I ever felt before.

In summary, I’ve come to think that conferences and the knowledge that they help to share are a good thing. In general, I don’t think there is much better than people coming together to share ideas and knowledge that are meant to do good.

Note: I appreciate the support I received from my universities, and the Midwest Association of Fish and Wildlife Agencies, to gain the experiences described in this post.

Virginia Rail in Cattails

My PhD dissertation research focuses on trying to help conserve secretive marsh birds. Specifically, a group of birds that are rarely seen or heard called ‘rails.’ The term ‘thin as a rail’ actually refers to this group! Because many people aren’t familiar with these birds, I thought I’d share a video that I recorded when in the marsh for research. The species in the video is a Virginia Rail, which is just a bit bigger than an American Robin.

I hope you enjoy the video! I like how the bird uses last year’s plant litter to stay safely concealed.

Blue Jay Calls: Hawk Mimicry

On Monday I was leaving campus at the end of another long day. My partner and I were in the library parking lot and I was worn down after a lot of time at the computer working on dissertation research. I decided to study wildlife to be outside, but after data are collected—especially as one’s career progresses—most time tends to be spent inside analyzing data and writing about it. As we were about ready to get into our car, I heard what I was pretty sure was a Blue Jay imitating a Cooper’s Hawk from a row of oaks that bisected the parking lot. I’d seen a Blue Jay in the oak trees in that direction just before I heard the interesting call.

Here is the type of call, uttered by an actual Cooper’s Hawk, that I thought I’d heard:

XC554004 Cooper’s Hawk (Accipiter cooperii) :: xeno-canto

Like I often do, I wandered away toward a bird with little or no explanation. Maybe I said, “there is a Blue Jay over there.” Luckily, my partner is an ecologist, so she understands—or, at least accepts—my strange behavior.

As I approached the tree line, it became clear that indeed a Blue Jay was imitating a Cooper’s Hawk while foraging. Here is the footage:

Foraging Blue Jay Imitates Cooper’s Hawk – YouTube

Blue Jays have been observed on many occasions imitating/mimicking other species. Often, I’ve noticed, they imitate their potential predators. There are several reasons that the jay I saw could have been imitating a Cooper’s Hawk. Given that it appeared to be foraging alone, the bird might have been calling as a way to deter other birds from competing for a valuable food source. Little acorns were just beginning to form on the oaks, but I think the jay was eating something else on the ground. The Blue Jay might have been just showing off a unique call which it had learned that could, when combined with the other calls in its repertoire, impress another jay. It is also possible that the bird was indicating nearby danger, though I don’t think that was the case in this instance. However, when I studied Blue Jay vocalizations for my Master’s research, I frequently observed jays imitating predators (Red-tailed Hawk, American Crow) as I approached Blue Jay nests. It was as if they were indicating danger to their mates by imitating a species that was dangerous to them. Or maybe they had been trying to scare me off by imitating something that scared them.

My favorite memory from my Master’s research is the afternoon when I heard a pair of Blue Jays utter uncannily-convincing American Crow calls as I approached their fledglings. A recording from that day of that call type, as well as other Blue Jay call types that I described in a recently-published study, can be found at the below link. The most convincing American Crow call is at the very end of the file called ‘NamesAndCalls_Row3.’

The vocal repertoire of Blue Jays (Cyanocitta cristata): spectrographic snapshots and suggested nomenclature | Zenodo

Yesterday, when I was leaving campus on my bike, I noticed a Cooper’s Hawk flying high overhead. I was only a few hundred yards to the northwest of where I’d recorded the Blue Jay on Monday. I put down my kickstand and watched as the hawk boldly flew above me, clearing carrying something in its talons. Was it my Blue Jay friend?!? No, I was able to tell, it was some kind of rodent. A little relieved, I pedaled home.

This morning, at around 7:00 am or so, I was sitting in the backyard with my loyal canine companion at my feet. We were both thinking about what we wanted to accomplish today. As I thought, I listened to several Blue Jays calling around the neighborhood. Within the last couple weeks, a pair of Blue Jays successfully hatched young from the sycamore behind our house and ever since I’ve been listening to the calls of hidden fledglings as they beg for and then noisily receive food. But this morning it was just adult calls, mostly the ones that jays utter when they are flying and attempting to stay in contact with allies. The calls suddenly changed to what I call ‘Burry Descending Jay,’ and several American Robins began ‘tutting,’ so I wondered if they were concerned about something.

Then, like a low and straight arrow about 15 feet above the ground, a Cooper’s Hawk flew from east to west across our backyard almost right over me. And the jays kept calling, as if I needed to be convinced more to share about the special birds that we call Blue Jays and one of the many challenges that have shaped them. Gradually the ‘tuts’ of the robins stopped and the Blue Jays resumed calls that generally don’t indicate danger. I carefully listened for what jays and other birds will teach anyone who pays attention. And all, for the moment, again became calm.

4th Of July Songs

This year as I considered beautiful Independence Day songs, the first two that came to mind were Ray Charles’ rendition of America the Beautiful and Woody Guthrie’s This Land is Your Land. The former is special to me because of Ray’s unique emotion and authentic style of singing, whereas the latter I appreciate mainly because of the simple but powerful words. I’d be interested in learning, as a comment, what your favorite 4th of July song is, if you have one.

For the last few years, I’ve also thought about John Prine’s The Great Compromise during 4th of July celebrations. While at first it may seem that he is singing about an estranged woman, to me the song is clearly about John’s country, the U.S.A. The love, uncertainty, outrage, and sadness that he feels when considering his relationship with his country is, I think, truly patriotic. And while it is not the type of song that is likely to be played at family gatherings as fireworks crackle and kids run around with sparklers, I think you might get something out of considering what John was saying in that song.

For me, ‘The Great Compromise’ serves as a reminder that the best way to love something that you are a part of isn’t to pretend that it is, or was, simply and purely great, but rather to identify the good and bad and then to do what you need to do to make things better.

Gaining a Mind

It’s a good morning. I’ve just finished a creative writing session before work and am well on my way to completing my first new book-length work of fiction in almost ten years. Creatively-speaking, nothing fills me with feeling and excitement like letting a story run through me. I anticipate that my novella will be finished within the next couple months, if not sooner, and I hope to be able to share it after that.

At the moment, though, I don’t have much to share regarding creative works. I recently completed a super-busy semester, filled with teaching and trying to move research forward. And I’ve also had a lot of good times with family, which hasn’t left much time for writing.

I did, however, write a poem/song a couple months ago that I’d like to share. It describes the feeling of changing and holding on at the same time, and is very relevant to how I’m feeling right now about maintaining a creative mind. Below is a link to the song. I’ll also share just the words further below, in case you’d (like me, almost) rather it just be a poem. Thanks much for your interest.

Hopefully I’ll have a great story to share soon.

Oh, I’m losing my mind,

one synapse at a time.

But I’m gaining one too,

based on everything that I do.

Yes, I am gaining a mind.

So I’ve got to be careful

about how I spend my time.

Lose the feelings that I love

and I’ll probably lose me too.

And a mind that is lost,

might not look for itself again.

So, keep doing what makes you,

whatever makes you,

feel how you like to,

how you like to.