Category: academia

Vibrant Matter reading group

I found and have been following fellow Faculty of Environmental Studies grad Adrian J. Ivakhiv’s blog immanence since early this year. Lots of smart stuff being discussed there, especially the conversations surrounding nature, relational objects and the possibility of enacting different ways of knowing the world. From there, I discovered other  engaging conversations and people thinking through some of the same things that I outlined above, including perspectives I had yet to come across (and I’m still figuring out). Rich all ’round.

Ivakhiv announced a few weeks ago that a loose configuration were going to come together in a virtual reading group to read Vibrant Matter. I knew nothing of the book by Jane Bennett but popped over to amazon and was intrigued. Earlier today, one of those people I discovered posted on his blog that he was going to participate.  So I decided what the hell, why not get the book and join in the fun.

With that in mind, I’ll post a copy of Ivakhiv’s original call here, just in case anyone in the ether want to join in too:

41NsaZn0rkL._SL160_.jpg

The previously announced ‘Vibrant Matter’ reading group will take place across five blogs over five weeks, beginning May 23 and ending June 26. Vibrant Matter: A Political Ecology of Things is the latest book by Johns Hopkins University political theorist Jane Bennett. Philosophy in a Time of Error has posted a very useful overview of the book, along with an interview with its author. Anyone interested in participating is invited to read these, and to order your copy of the book in time for the first session. (I’ve asked Duke University Press about a possible discount for participants, but not heard back from them. Here in the States, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Overstock.com offer the best deals at the moment.)

The reading schedule will be as follows:

May 23-29
Host blog: Philosophy in a Time of Error (Peter Gratton)
Under discussion: Preface & Chapter 1, “The Force of Things” (and overview/interview).

May 30-June 5
Host blog: Critical Animal (James Stanescu)
Under discussion: Chapters 2 and 3, “The Agency of Assemblages” and “Edible Matter.”

June 6-12
Host blog: Naught Thought (Ben Woodard)
Under discussion: Chapters 4 and 5, “A Life of Matter” and “Neither Vitalism nor Mechanism.”

June 13-19
Host blog: An und für sich (Anthony Paul Smith)
Under discussion: Chapters 6 and 7, “Stem Cells and the Culture of Life” and “Political Ecologies”

June 20-26
Host blog: Immanence (Adrian Ivakhiv)
Under discussion: Chapter 8, “Vitality and Self-interest,” and the book as a whole (final overview).

All welcome!

Finding, seeing, identifying, recording, sharing

This post is the conclusion to one of my draft PhD dissertation chapters. It doesn’t represent a final thought or particular endpoint: these are ideas in progress. It also explains why the post just sort of starts without any introductory context. I’m always interested in hearing your opinion of my ideas, too.

Birding 5
Creative Commons License photo credit: Explore The Bruce

Knowing individuals is the exception and not the rule for birders’ relationships with birds, largely because the motivations behind these interactions are not mutual enjoyment. Rather, as I have described, because birding is centred on the detection and identification of individual birds to species, collecting these observations is often the underlying motivation. This notion of collection is not as simple as it sounds. Based on the acts practised by the birders I interviewed, birding at its core is an activity of watching. This watching of birds is an emotional experience – leading to all kinds of feelings – but reinforced through the emotional catharsis, I theorize, of getting to see a bird. While watching birds implicitly foregrounds the visual nature of the activity, as you are drawn into watching birds, the activity expands beyond the visual to include the auditory and even the tactile. Knowing (or wanting to know) what you are seeing, hearing or touching still hold the practices together.

If this watching birds can transition into the act of birding, then it is steeped in first-hand experience, with sightings occurring when bird and birder at found in the same place at the same time. Human sensory limitations coupled with a Euclidean understanding of time and space frame what counts as bird sightings, in turn limiting acts of birding to these experiential moments.

With a birder and a bird together, a sighting is made and the process of identification can take place. These acts of identification rely on a birder’s sensory abilities to pick out important aspects of a bird’s identity, but also take into account the larger ecological context – the relationship between the components of the bird and birder’s surroundings – of the bird sighting. In this sense, identification occurs in a larger context and is, in fact, a hybrid act. Identification blends a clinical, reductionist approach to breaking birds into a set of field markings (e.g. “has complete eye ring”) and a more holistic, even phenomenological approach leading to the gestalt of a bird (e.g. “that bird just looked like a great-blue heron”). I have personally experienced and found with some birders that the emergence of a phenomenological approach to birding is coupled to an expanded awareness of bird life around them. This sensory attunement to the presence of birds is developed through the overt act of birding. It, in turn, leads to moments outside planned birding excursions where present birds can unexpectedly enter the consciousness and draw attention. I have described these moment as the chance encounter in birding.

If a species of birds holds one or a combination of perceived characteristics (beauty, rarity or transience) they then are ascribed more power by birders. These birds are subsequently sought out or attracted in more often than birds that do not hold these characteristics. Birders also work to predict when and where these kinds of birds can be seen. This act of prediction expands beyond sought-after species and expands into the whole practice: birders work to improve their ability to predict the highest concentration of birds and species. In order to increase their success birding, and in part a reaction to the unpredictable nature of birds, birders share their sightings with others. Sightings are perishable objects and birders work to share the information before the sightings start to decay. They also work to accrue or reinforce the reputation of a birder – being the first to see a valued bird is something valued in the birding world.

The walk, the White-throat and the chance encounter in birding

While out with the dogs and Heather this morning, I heard a bird song that was different than the “regular” bird noises I hear while I’m out and about. I had a similar experience of hearing an unusual call last month. Upon hearing that call, off I went traipsing across a park with a dog in tow, scanning bare limbs for movement. I found the bird at the top of a tree and, not surprisingly, it wasn’t some vagrant or rarity, rather it was a European Starling (Sturnus vulgaris) obviously trying out a song from its repertoire.

The same kind of experience happened again this morning: out with the dogs, chatting with Heather, paying attention to what Griff was doing at the end of his leash and out of the periphery of my consciousness, my mind flips into action: there is something out of the ordinary calling “out there”. Now, having had the Starling experience in the last month, and having people and dogs to draw my attention, I made a mental note of its auditory presence but then moved on.

Off our mixed Canid and Hominid foraging flock moved to get a cup shade-grown of coffee and a teabiscuit (I say foraging flock because Ollie and Griff managed to convince us that we should offer them some crumbs). We returned home following our same path and in the same spot on our out-bound leg, the song snapped into consciousness. And it was something out of the ordinary. Just like my gut told at the time that the bird I heard last month was a Starling, my gut told me that this wasn’t.

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Birding Rondeau Provincial Park, April 28-May 7, 2008

While in the field conducting interviews at Rondeau Provincial Park over two weeks in spring 2008, I collected ten consecutive days worth of travels on my trusty GPS. The data consisted of two things: a track (a continuous line where I had travelled) and ‘exact’ points, recorded every 30 seconds, of my location. Now, I’m no GIS master, but I am using this data in my analysis for my dissertation. Here’s one map that I generated today:

Rondeau Tracks—April 28-May 7, 2008

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Reflections on my first use of Twitter in the classroom

@torontonature

Inspired by others’ use of Twitter in higher ed, I decided to try and integrate Twitter into the course that I’ve developed and instructed while a PhD student in the Faculty of Environmental Studies at York University.

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Birding: sport or conservation?

This post is one part of a two-parter that I’m writing in response to a paper on the sport of birding that was published in the Journal of Sport and Social Issues.

Feb. 15, 2010
Creative Commons License photo credit: auburnxc

Instead of protest, culture jamming, confrontation, and direct action the environmental sporting practices of traveling the state by automobile and competitively searching for vast numbers of birds is what the World Series of Birding constructs as environmentalist. Driving in search of birds in polluted New Jersey is, in this formulation, a great way to protect birds. (p.214)

This is how author Spencer Schaffner, writing in the Journal of Sport and Social Issues, condemns the World Series of Birding as more sport than a form of environmental conservation. In this paper, Schaffner links birding to toxic waste writing that “birders often seek out polluted environmental niches” (p. 212) and rather than confronting the tension of our culture’s creation of the waste, the sport acts to hide or ignore it. Given my research, I don’t agree outright that birders actively seek out polluted areas and this is where I’m less impressed with the paper.

Birding and bird conservation

Returning, however, to this idea that birding is not the same as bird conservation, Schaffner writes:

The brand of environmentalism promoted by mainstream environmental organizations is made in ways palatable, conservative, and legitimate through a relationship with the accepted sport practice of birding. Unlike the growing environmental movement to end global warming, for instance, which threatens to radically change entrenched aspects of industrial capitalism, protecting wild birds has only involved relatively undisruptive changes such as the establishment of trade and hunting laws, small-scale nature preserves, and pesticide regulation. (p. 212)

And this is what I want to discuss in this post: I have yet to see a cogent reply from the birding community to address this critique. In fact, its an argument that could be made from my own work: when asking birders what kind of rules they follow when out watching birds, I was amazed at the human-centred (avoid trespassing on private property, follow the rules of the road when birding in a car) or instrumental (don’t drop trash) nature of the responses. True, there were thoughtful multicentric-centred responses, but when birds were mentioned in most birder’s ethical approach to birding, it is often along the lines of this participant’s response:

I don’t want to try and get too close, but I will approach one quietly and sort of let the bird – their instinct for self-preservation, you know, rule that. If you make too much noise, it’s just going to fly away.  But I don’t want to disturb the bird.  I want to get a good look at it but beyond that some move away.

Getting that good look is still at the heart of the activity with little self-regulation or questioning about what might be in the best interest for the bird. In this case, the birder is leaving it to the bird to make the decision that he’s too close—by flying away. While this may not be the practice of everyone, I have seen enough similar behaviour to this (which I call “birders behaving badly”) that I know its not an isolated practice.

Birding as sport or birding as conservation

Which returns us to the larger question that Schaffner raises: is birding an act of leisure (sport) or is it an act of conservation? And if it is more than leisure, how does the birding community address critiques that birding is an activity that does little more than promoting the status quo—appearances as an activity that appears to be doing little to address larger environmental concerns or, as I suggest, the personal well-being of birds watched?

I know that birders feel when they participate in citizen science programs (such as the Christmas Bird Count) that they are participating in the monitoring and conservation of bird populations. I know that birders feel that when they join a group (such as Field Naturalists) that purchases and protects habitat for birds that they are participating in habitat conservation. What is enough?

It is clear that people don’t like to hear that what they are currently doing isn’t enough—we all like to feel like we’re competent and illuminated. It is also clear that bird populations are continuing to decrease. We know this, ironically, through bird population monitoring. What I think articles like Schaffner’s raise is that uncomfortable feeling, an inner psychological state of angst, that what we do in the name of birds, on the whole, isn’t enough. There are at least two responses: dismiss these claims outright (as I heard from birders as the paper was published) or reflect on the larger claims of the paper and make an effort to do a bit more.

And in my research, I’ve heard from birders who are starting to make connections between their larger lives and the act of birding. Take this conversation, for example:

Gavan: Would you say that, or do you have any examples of times where you have made – whether you have made behavioural changes or even purchasing changes based on the lives of birds?

Male: Absolutely.

Gavan: Can you explain to me maybe some of those things?

Male: I read Bridget Stuchbury’s book [Silence Of The Songbirds].

Female: It’s a book at our Nature Club.

Male: Also, we are much more conscious of where a product comes from now. For example, we’re a little more sensitive about buying products in the winter that comes from South Americas. We worry about the practices.

I have even thought – I mean I haven’t acted on this, but I have thought of going up to the produce manager of the local supermarket and say “I’m not going to buy these asparagus from Peru because I don’t know what’s on it, for one, and I don’t know if there’s something on it, what impact that has had on something that I care about, birds.” So I have not done that, but it has crossed my mind, I should. I probably don’t do it because I’m generally not a confrontational and I just figure he’s going to look at me and say “what’s this jerk talking about anyway”.

It’s not a question of knowledge, it’s a question of action. And the risk of looking like a jerk.

Birding and the sewage lagoon

This post is one part of a two-parter that I’m writing in response to a paper on the sport of birding that was published in the Journal of Sport and Social Issues.

a swim anyone?
Creative Commons License photo credit: iBjorn

Earlier this year, Spencer Schaffner1, writing in the Journal of Sport and Social Issues, published a paper titled “Environmental Sporting: Birding at Superfund Sites, Landfills, and Sewage Ponds”. On the whole, its an interesting read with points that I and my own research certainly agree with.

Schaffner’s overall argument in the paper focuses on the link between birding in polluted spaces and birding’s complicity with masking these toxic spaces. I find this argument challenging to agree wholeheartedly with.

My reasoning: birders look for birds in significant concentrations. Sewage lagoons (which, of the three polluted areas described in the paper, I have experience with) act to concentrate birds, hence their appearance as a place for birding. They’re sought out in spite of their shitty origins because they offer an opportunity to see many birds in one place. Are birder’s ignoring the risk to birds by visiting such sites?

These lagoons, with their increased nutrients from the effluent are a source of food for invertebrates, attract avian predators. What is worth questioning is if there are compounds that birds, attracted to the lagoons, could ingest and impact their ability to thrive. Research on this question conducted in sites around Ontario suggests that the answer is that it depends: yes, these places are sources of pollution but the birds appear not to ingest enough compounds to impact their overall health.

Significantly elevated concentrations of eight contaminants were determined in domestically raised mallards released at Hamilton Harbour CDF, Winona  SL, and  Big Creek Marsh. However, most of these concentrations, with the exception of PCBs and DDE, were  lower than concentrations found in other studies. All concentrations were below levels believed to have harmful effects on birds. (p.241)

Significant, however, in this paper was the finding the Big Creek Marsh was a source of contaminants as the study area would typically not be seen as a waste facility: it is part of a National Wildlife Area surrounded by a large cattail marsh complex. The results indicate that it is not just classically constructed “waste spaces” that pose health risks to avian populations. Culturally, and this is damning, we have impacted the whole environment in such a way that we can’t judge the health or toxicity of a location by its ecological role or appearance as natural—marshes and sewage lagoons can both be sinks of organic contaminants.

So, to critique the act of birding at sewage lagoons as ignorance to pollution which renders toxicity invisible is an argument made more difficult given the diffuse nature of pollution. I’m not sure that birders would identify a sewage lagoon as inherently “healthy” now that they visit and find birds there. The argument could be made that any outdoor activity that does not actively interrogate the source and persistence of environmental pollution is complicit with creation—and perhaps that is true. To single out birding, though, because in its practice birders visit sources, such as sewage lagoons, seems like a bit of a low blow.

I’m left wondering where the argument will get us (us being those that are interested in birds, the people that watch them, impacts of Western culture and the larger more-than-human world). I do agree that birders have a unique opportunity to engage with the conservation of bird species, populations and individuals and that, for the most part, these kinds of interventions are left for others to do on birders’ behalf. But that’s the subject of the second post.

  1. Hi Spencer! I know you have a Google Alert set up and I want you to know, independent of my critique here that I appreciate your scholarship in the birding sphere. I would love to chat sometime. []

Mapping the locations mentioned by Ontario birders

This post includes ruminations and ideas emerging as I analyze the data collected for my PhD dissertation focusing on the act of birding. It doesn’t represent a final thought or particular endpoint: these are ideas in progress. I would be interested in hearing your opinion of my ideas, too.

During my analysis, I kept track of all the places mentioned by birders during interviews. With the exception of ‘sewage lagoons’1 I’ve mapped the locations and the results are interesting2. Immediately apparent: with two exceptions (The highlighted locations of Fisherville and the Carden Alvar) all these places are on or within short distance of a Great Lake.

So what does this tell us of the practice of birding in Ontario? Well, it tells us that birds are found where there is habitat as most of these locations are marshes, woodlots or other (relatively) undisturbed or protected natural areas and birders go to look for them in these places. That’s to be expected, isn’t it? It falls within conventional wisdom, certainly.


View Locations mentioned by Ontario birders in a larger map

There are, however, protected habitats that birds could be found throughout the province. So why such a focus on these near-lake habitats? Clearly, the Great Lakes are playing a role in the kind of birding that takes place in Ontario: they act as a concentrator. In the spring, migratory songbirds “fallout” in these remnant habitats (Point Pelee as a spring hotspot for songbirds, Beamer Point for raptor migration) and the lakes act as a barrier against which birds fly during fall migration (Cranberry Marsh, High Park, Hawk Cliff).

Interestingly, it really emphasizes that conventional birding practice focuses on migratory birds. And more specifically for Ontario, migratory birds as they move to and from the shore of a Great Lake, in part, because these places are most reliable for finding birds.

Two notable outliers: First, Fisherville. This region has hosted a winter population of Long-eared Owls. And people love Owls. Second, Carden Alvar. A unique habitat, with many rare or unusual bird species that cannot be found elsewhere in Ontario found here (the Loggerhead Shrike, for example). So this points out two allied practices: birders travel to find unusual birds (hence, the Carden Alvar’s emergence as a location) and birding practice changes in the winter (thus appears Fisherville).

Some thoughts about that. In winter, time is more diffuse and the birds are less predictable–irruptions occur in a (sort-of) pattern over years rather than in a regular seasonal pattern like spring and fall migration. Birds that appear in the winter are here primarily looking for food rather than being on the move to nesting / wintering grounds. In my experience, you know that Snowy Owls will be, say, near Arthur, but they’re diffuse enough that they can be hard to find.

So, the places that concentrate these winter birds (Fisherville, Amhurst Island) emerge as birding locations.

  1. Because I collected them as a generic category and don’t have location information []
  2. Oh and the yellow thumbtacks indicate where I conducted the majority of interviews []

The Technology & Ethics of Reporting Bird Sightings

The following post includes ruminations and ideas emerging as I analyze the data collected for my PhD dissertation focusing on the act of birding. It doesn’t represent a final thought or particular endpoint: these are ideas in progress. I would be interested in hearing your opinion of my ideas, too.

SOMETHING I'VE ALWAYS LOVED TO DO
Creative Commons License photo credit: Peppysis

Sharing sightings

Birders, according my research, have embraced the Internet for information about birds. This includes general information about birds (websites such as Cornell’s All About Birds were mentioned by birders) but it would seem that the Internet is seen most importantly as a conduit of bird sightings. I conducted my research in Ontario, speaking with Ontario birders. When I would ask how birders decided where to go on a particular day, birders would often cite the Ontario Field Ornithologist’s (or OFO, for short) ONTBIRDS listserv as a source of information (often the primary source) for sightings.

Sharing bird sightings isn’t a new practise in birding. When I was a child visiting my grandparents, I remember the phone ringing, my grandparents answering and getting the latest news that species X had been seen at location Y. As members of the local field naturalist club, they were part of a telephone tree that spread news about rare bird sightings. After they collected the information, they would then call the two people “below” them in the tree. I imagine that in short order, the information about the birds was disseminated.

So the practise hasn’t changed. But the technology has. Before I talk about the implications of this, I want to bring in another thread into this conversation.

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One week, two confrence-esques

look up
Creative Commons License photo credit: jnthnhys

I’m in la belle provence for the next seven days attending & presenting at the 5th World Environmental Education Congress and participating in the 10th Seminar in Health and Environmental Education Research (you can read more about the outcomes of the 9th seminar). The congress is during the latter half of the seven days in Montreal and the seminar happens from Thursday May 7th to Sunday May 10th in beautiful Montebello, Quebec (seeing as I’ve never been there, I should reserve the beautiful adjective until after I return).

For the seminar on Environmental Education (EE) research, I’ll be spending time in conversation and thought wondering why, for example, the above photo “screams” environmental education. More than just that, and perhaps more importantly for EE research, if the experience depicted above screams EE, what other kinds of experiences might we be missing as researchers? The theme of the seminar is “Making a Difference” and looks to be focusing on just how we can make the kind of research that gets done under the name of EE make a difference–for the environment, obviously, but also for different populations, including humans as well as non-humans. Think of EE research done in the name of social and environmental justice in addition to strict education about the environment. At least, that’s going to be my M.O. going into it ;) I’ll be pushing the non-human agenda, as is my want; so much so that I’m pleased to be co-facilitating a session titled “How can we move beyond the human?” with Leesa Fawcett, Sue Hamel, Gail Kuhl, Jan Oakley and Traci Warkentin. The whole event should be great food for the brain.

While I wasn’t initially enthused about presenting my research at WEEC via a poster, I’ve come around and I’ve enjoyed the challenge of turning some of my preliminary findings into a poster. Part of the fun is getting to be a bit controversial with the poster–I can put forward some of the more challenging findings, and see how the masses react. It will be interesting to see what kind of reactions, if any, I get from my poster. I do have a provocotive title (Am I being a tease? The poster is titled “Birding ≠ Bird Conservation”) so I’ll see if that gets me in trouble from any birding environmental educators.

I’ll be tweeting the WEEC confrence using the #weec5 hastag. Follow along and add your own voice if you’re going to be in Montreal. Tweeting confrences seems to be de rigeur for tech confrences. We’ll see if anyone in EE is into twittering too.