Field work’s yin and yang, lessons from China

Following up our “Field preparation” series, Robbie Hart from the Missouri Botanical Garden in St. Louis gives us some extra advice on how to prepare for the unforeseen during your field time. Thanks, Robbie, for this great post!


Robbie Hart is a 7th-year Ph.D. candidate at UMSL. He’s spent about half of his time since coming to St. Louis away at his field site in Himalayan China, monitoring the effects of climate change on Rhododendron flowering time along a gradient 2600-4100 m above sea level. He’s now writing up his dissertation and working at the Missouri Botanical Garden, where he continues to focus on climate change impacts on high-elevation Himalayan plants. There’s more about his work, and some pictures of his field sites at robbie.eugraph.com.


 

Planning is a feedback loop.

Having a set packing list is important when you’re traveling out of the range of Amazon 2-day shipping. Even more vital is a set methodology when you’re trying to collect data while exhilarated, exhausted, exposed to the elements, or all of the above. However, recognize that planning ahead, while essential, is uninformed by the potent realities of how things actually work in practice. Maybe you can’t actually sample 100 trunks without walking across a contested international border. Maybe the idea of a straight-line transect which seemed doable from the perspective of a map doesn’t seem as realistic when you’re staring down a cliff. Ultimately, you’ll never be able to plan perfectly for fieldwork until the project is actually complete, and the final product will always be a compromise between what you did and what you now know you should have done. Don’t fight it, because this is inescapable – just be a little flexible, a little firm, and find the point of compromise that works for your project.
There’s a book by Trevor Legget called ‘Zen and the Ways’, where he talks about two terms one encounters in Japanese martial arts: isshin and zanshin. I’m fairly certain I’m butchering them, but I see isshin (‘one-heart’) as a single-minded focus, an in-the-moment ‘zenning out’ on the task at hand. This is certainly how I get through the taxing or difficult periods of data collection in the field, and I think it’s true of others. There just isn’t another way to sit in a hailstorm for another four hours trying to write with frozen fingers, or to make it up that last mountain pass with a press full of collections on your back. Zanshin(‘remaining heart’) is a wider awareness, meta-level thinking about what you’ve done, why you’ve done it, and what you’re going to do.
Perhaps true samurai, or tenured faculty, can always maintain the right balance of isshin and zanshin. For me, it’s harder – it’s easy to get stuck in just getting the planned work done. Equally, it can also be a trap to constantly be questioning yourself or changing methods, and end up with data that’s not comparable, not efficiently collected, or not collected at all. I think it can be important to plan in times to stop and cultivate zanshin. In the evenings, or those break days that Leticia mentioned (in her previous post to the Naked Darwin), take some time over your well-deserved beer to evaluate and evolve your plans. During the work days, focus on getting things done, and file away those nagging doubts for the appropriate time.

 

Some rules of thumb which probably hold true no matter how your plan evolves
Back up your data. If you can’t get it in the cloud, make two or three digital copies and keep them in physically separated locations (keydrives, camera cards, etc.). If you can’t do that, make physical copies. You’re never going to get that year back if all of the data you collected during it goes up in smoke.

Don’t be afraid to ask questions. It’s a new field site, country, species, discipline, culture, method, or trail. Someone (or maybe almost everyone) knows more than you do. Ask for advice! I’m always scared to do this, and it always, always is worth it.

Don’t just take data, take metadata. Take much more than you think you need. Whether it’s in a fieldbook, or going through and putting tags on your photos, don’t underestimate your power to forget things in a day or a year. You *will* be grateful that you wrote down that person’s full name, detailed your custom designed sampling scheme, drew a map of where that nest is, or took a photo of your altimeter between every photo you took a photo of a species on your alpine transect. Data is your friend. Metadata is your friend with benefits.

Remember your limits, and those of others with you, and communicate about them. These aren’t always the safest conditions. Just because you can’t catch your breath and are feeling dizzy, doesn’t mean that the team member ahead of you knows that you’re getting mountain sickness. Alternately, just because you’re feeling tired but can totally make that last push to collect another sample doesn’t mean that everyone on your team can.

 

View from my rooftop on Yunnan, China

Yulong Mountain, Robbie’s field site

Rhododendron racemosum – 2800 meters above sea level http://robbie.eugraph.com/photos/thesis

Rhododendron racemosum – 2800 meters 
http://robbie.eugraph.com/photos/thesis

Rhododendron impeditum – 3800 meters http://robbie.eugraph.com/photos/thesis

Rhododendron impeditum – 3800 meters
http://robbie.eugraph.com/photos/thesis

Courtesy of Robbie Hart.

 

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