Showing posts with label Curator of Zoology. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Curator of Zoology. Show all posts

Monday, 17 September 2012

Some Buggy's Watching Me

One of my favorite photographs is the one of a young chimpanzee reaching out to touch Jane Goodall’s face.  This photograph was taken many months after Jane has started quietly and patiently observing the chimpanzees.  Eventually her patience paid off and the chimps felt safe enough to make contact.  I love the idea of being so close to nature that nature wants to touch you back.

Last month I had a wildlife encounter of the entomological kind.  I was in Spruce Woods Provincial Park to observe the insect pollinators of the rare Hairy Prairie Clover (Dalea villosa) plant.  Like Jane, I found that that the best way to ensure good observations was to simply sit down, keep still and shut up.  Movement, especially sudden ones, and noise frightens the insects away.  Fortunately for me it doesn’t take months for insects to become accustomed to you.  After a few minutes of sitting still all sorts of marvelous insects the like of which I’ve never seen before were swarming over the plants.

As it turns out I wasn’t the only creature interested in observing strange animals.  I was the subject of much curiosity by my backbone-challenged subjects.  A long-legged wasp investigated my camera bag.  Then, a shiny copper bug landed on my hand and probed me with its proboscis.  A grasshopper jumped on my shoe and began delicately nibbling one of my laces.  A large cicada landed on my hip with a loud thump to check me out.  But the most thrilling moment was when a beautiful black butterfly landed on my wrist and started licking me to get the salts in my sweat.  It tickled and I giggled.  Then I sobered and got a bit teary: this lovely creature trusted me enough to make contact so that it could obtain something it needed to survive.

Read any scientific paper and you are presented with cold, hard facts and stoic observations.  Emotions do not belong in scientific journals.  Conclusions are restricted to what the data can tell you.  Scientists are trained to do this but it gives the public a distorted perception of what we are really like.  I don’t know any field biologists that don’t love nature, and haven’t been deeply and profoundly moved by what they’ve seen.  Jane Goodall learned something a long time ago: just as the animals being observed are changed by their experience, so is the observer.  In observing nature, you grow to love it and are compelled to help save it because you see the truth of our reality: we are all connected, and in losing a species we lose a part of ourselves.

The Arizona-Manitoba Connection


For many Manitobans, the only connection we might have with Arizona involves a certain hockey team that left Winnipeg in 1996 for warmer climes. There are, though, other connections that involve organisms from the natural world other than coyotes as mascots!

What possible connection might there be between the Sonoran desert and Manitoba's boreal forest?
I recently returned from a family vacation to southern Arizona where we were hoping to catch up with some of the local bird and lizard specialties, as well as enjoy the truly incredible environment that Sonoran desert has to offer.

Rufous-crowned Sparrow (left) and Chuckwalla (right), special but expected desert denizens.
Although we were a little early because of the mid-March timing forced by the school break, we had several species of hummingbirds, and I finally managed to see roadrunner – a “jinx” bird that I had missed on previous trips.

Southern specialties, a Broad-billed Hummingbird (left) and an Ash-throated Flycatcher (right).
But these were desert species we were expecting. For me, the strangest sight among all our bird observations was finding boreal and subarctic species of sparrows hopping among the cacti! In retrospect, I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised – I know these species overwinter and migrate through the southern United States, including Arizona. And a few of Manitoba’s northern species have populations that breed in the mountainous areas of the south. Still, it came as a bit of a shock while tracking down Arizona desert specialities to instead run across White-crowned and Lincoln’s Sparrows that will be migrating through my backyard in less than a month! I hadn’t travelled all the way to Tucson to see them!

Lincoln's Sparrow (left) and White-crowned Sparrow (right), two species that occur in Manitoba but spend time in the Arizona desert, along with (occasionally) Manitoba Museum zoology curators.
The more I thought about it, though, I began to have a grudging respect for these common Manitoba species that kept showing up under prickly pears and organ pipe cactus. Many of the Arizona specialties basically hang out in desert all the time, whereas “our” migratory sparrows have to be able to deal with a huge range of habitat and conditions, from boreal and subarctic to desert. When we travel from north to south and are scrounging for food, we are relieved to find familiar forage in local produce stores carrying recognizable brands; these little sparrows manage to scratch up a meal whether under a saguaro cactus in a desert or a spruce tree in a bog – no shared seed or insect ‘brands’ between those localities.

A White-crowned Sparrow nest found in July 2008 at Nueltin Lake, Manitoba near the border with Nunavut, a long way and a very different place than the Arizona desert where they spend part of the non-breeding season. An arrow points to the well-concealed nest in subarctic scrub (left), and the nest with four eggs revealed (right).
So the Arizona/Manitoba connection runs deep on many fronts. Much as humans find a way to chase a puck in the frozen north and the Phoenix desert, our sparrows manage to raise a family in the north every summer and eke out a living in the desert in winter.  But unlike the puck chasers, the sparrows haven’t decided to move down to Arizona permanently.

Thursday, 1 March 2012

Anniversary For A Museum Outlaw


The 4th Floor 'Outlaw'

Published by Dr.Mooi, Curator of Zoology
rmooi@manitobamuseum.ca
February 8, 2012

Just outside my office on the 4th floor of the Museum is a big, hairy outlaw that can stare anybody down. It’s the mounted head of one of the original ‘outlaw buffalo’ of the Pablo/Allard herd of Plains Bison (Bison bison bison), the most significant of the private herds purchased by the Canadian government that helped to bring these magnificent animals back from the brink of extinction.

By 1890, it is believed that there were no bison remaining in Canada. Several private herds started from wild stock during the 1870s were obtained by the Canada government beginning in 1897. The Pablo/Allard herd, the origin of the Museum ‘outlaw’, had its beginnings in about 1872 when Walking Coyote, a member of the Pend d’Oreille First Nation, captured a handful of animals south of the Alberta/Montana border.