Sorta-Science

While surfing YouTube videos, I stumbled into a short speech from Jane Goodall. As far back as I can remember nearly, she has been part of the landscape at Gombe, studying her beloved chimpanzees. Fifty-eight years so far of observations and notes and studies and lectures.

So when I mention that last week I saw two eider ducks on the lake after an absence of 2 years—nearly—my report is not much weightier than a passing cloud. Several pairs of eider ducks spent the late winter of ’16 here, along with five or six pairs of mallards, and the nearly ever-present geese. However, last winter, no eider ducks, no mallards.

Of course, my observations come by way of happenstance, not from the disciplined, daily, hours-long effort of a Goodall. No, I catch sight of the comings and goings as I work in the yard, or stand at a window, or walk the dog out beyond the fence.

I do note some of the behavior to share with family or a neighbor. I just don’t write it down. The peculiarities stay with me. In July, four white egrets flew over the lake and after a lap disappeared beyond the trees. The next day, a pair repeated the same flightpath. The next day, again a pair as if sightseeing. The fourth day, a solo bird made the lap.

Then the next afternoon a pair of the white birds settled in the Grandfather Tree. And that same evening they returned—I assume the same pair—and circled the lake multiple times close together before settling for the night on some deadfall across the way.

What all that activity meant, I don’t know. But, to me the show was entertaining and interesting.

The last six months I have been slowly reading through Thoreau’s journals (1837-1861). His reputation as a naturalist, of course, has long been confirmed. He makes little drawings, notes first blooms and last leaves, rain and snow, plantings and harvest, all while making observations about the human condition as well the wildlife.

I could start today with a more careful effort, and onward to 2042. I would be 91.

Coincidentally, the current issue of National Wildlife chronicles the saga of Joseph Grinnell’s mission to produce a complete survey of California’s vertebrates. Begun in 1904 and concluded in 1940, Grinnell and his team from Berkeley assembled 74,000 pages of detailed notes that are so well-constructed the approach is referred to as the Grinnell Method, the standard for field biologists.

That sort of science—the dedication, the perseverance—I am unlikely to duplicate.  No, my sorta-science may be keeping an eye out for the eider ducks, or noting two dozen doves pecking at seeds in a small area of my garden without any attendant feuding. And, maybe, some babies to report come next spring.