The message
Invasive species introduced by human actions are a threat to biodiversity.
The experience
Visitors pass through a woven, sculptural gate made from buckthorn—there is a feeling of a jail cell or cage. Inside they come face to face with an arapaima skull the size of a basketball, its gapping jaws lined with rows of tiny razor-sharp teeth. Visitors compare their height to an outline of this freshwater giant, more than 6-feet at full length.
A massive, barnacle-encrusted Pacific clam is perched nearby, along with an oddly familiar specimen—a massive goldfish, once someone’s pet, pulled from Lake Michigan. Peering through a magnifying lens reveals an ash bore beetle. Accompanying graphics might mimic “Wanted” signs or mugshots.
An updateable area examines a current “Public Enemy #1”—an invasive currently in Chicagoland headlines. This might be the Asian carp, zebra mussels, longhorn beetles, or others.
The story
Invasive species are some of the “villains” of conservation, engaged in an epic struggle with native species. But the reality is that invasives are the result of human actions: planted for their out-of-season green beauty, carelessly brought through channels on boats, and released into ecosystems when the became cumbersome to keep.
The arapaima is one invasive species about which we don’t know the whole story. Several escaped from Peruvian fish farms during intense floods and ended up in Bolivian lakes. The long-term effect of these non-native predators is not yet known, but the human response is already problematic. Local communities have enthusiastically harvested this tasty new fish, tangling caiman and other large aquatic life in their drag nets.
Phil Willink is collaborating with these local communities and Bolivian scientists to determine the arapaima’s impact. His longitudinal study tracks three lakes: One with arapaima for several years, one where arapaima were more recently introduced, and one without arapaima. His team also works with fishermen to find alternatives to drag nets.
Showing posts with label object based. Show all posts
Showing posts with label object based. Show all posts
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Module 11: Effects on species over time
The message
Conservation requires an understanding of how changes to ecosystems affect species over time. Museum collections provide this data.
The experience
A peregrine falcon grasps a rock with its curved talons, a delicate plastic band clasped to its leg. Nearby, a live webcam provides a peek into a peregrine nest perched on the roof of Chicago’s Metropolitan Correctional Center. Mounds of newspaper clippings, articles, and copies of Silent Spring surround a delicate cluster of peregrine eggshells.
The story
The peregrine falcon is a local conservation success story. The story begins in the Museum’s collections, where historic samples of peregrine eggs helped demonstrate the damaging effects of DDT. Today, falcons are making a Chicago comeback and Museum researchers, such as Mary Hennen, continue to monitor their progress through banding programs. Citizens play a special role, too: When fledglings fall from the nest, the research team gets hundreds of calls from people watching the nest cam.
Conservation requires an understanding of how changes to ecosystems affect species over time. Museum collections provide this data.
The experience
A peregrine falcon grasps a rock with its curved talons, a delicate plastic band clasped to its leg. Nearby, a live webcam provides a peek into a peregrine nest perched on the roof of Chicago’s Metropolitan Correctional Center. Mounds of newspaper clippings, articles, and copies of Silent Spring surround a delicate cluster of peregrine eggshells.
The story
The peregrine falcon is a local conservation success story. The story begins in the Museum’s collections, where historic samples of peregrine eggs helped demonstrate the damaging effects of DDT. Today, falcons are making a Chicago comeback and Museum researchers, such as Mary Hennen, continue to monitor their progress through banding programs. Citizens play a special role, too: When fledglings fall from the nest, the research team gets hundreds of calls from people watching the nest cam.
Module 10: Changes over time in ecosystems
The message
Conservation requires an understanding of changes over time in ecosystems and habitat loss. Museum collections provide this data.
The experience
Visitors approach an aerial map of Chicagoland. A series of small doors creates a grid over this cityscape. When each door is opened, a specimen collected in that area of Chicago is revealed. The original curatorial label is included—in some cases, these will date back to the late 1800’s. A contemporary photo of the coordinates where the specimen was collected might also be included.
Nearby a long, narrow row of specimen jars is accompanied by a timeline. The series of specimens was collected at Wolf Lake from 1898 to the present. They demonstrate the shift from sensitive native species, such as black chin shiners, to generalist species, such as largemouth bass and blue gills, to a lake dominated by invasive species, such as the round gobis first spotted in 1993.
The story
The Museum’s collections are an important record of lost biodiversity in the Chicago area, as well as an inspiration for restoration work like that done at Wolf Lake. While many marshes are now concrete lots, there are sections of Chicago’s natural landscape that is making a comeback. The Clean Water Act in particular has shown positive results, and native species thought to be extinct are being spotted again in regional lakes. Wolf Lake was also one of the Calumet BioBlitz sites, a citizen science version of rapid inventories.
Conservation requires an understanding of changes over time in ecosystems and habitat loss. Museum collections provide this data.
The experience
Visitors approach an aerial map of Chicagoland. A series of small doors creates a grid over this cityscape. When each door is opened, a specimen collected in that area of Chicago is revealed. The original curatorial label is included—in some cases, these will date back to the late 1800’s. A contemporary photo of the coordinates where the specimen was collected might also be included.
Nearby a long, narrow row of specimen jars is accompanied by a timeline. The series of specimens was collected at Wolf Lake from 1898 to the present. They demonstrate the shift from sensitive native species, such as black chin shiners, to generalist species, such as largemouth bass and blue gills, to a lake dominated by invasive species, such as the round gobis first spotted in 1993.
The story
The Museum’s collections are an important record of lost biodiversity in the Chicago area, as well as an inspiration for restoration work like that done at Wolf Lake. While many marshes are now concrete lots, there are sections of Chicago’s natural landscape that is making a comeback. The Clean Water Act in particular has shown positive results, and native species thought to be extinct are being spotted again in regional lakes. Wolf Lake was also one of the Calumet BioBlitz sites, a citizen science version of rapid inventories.
Module 9: Human stewardship & biodiversity
The message
Human stewardship has shaped biodiversity for millennia and continues to do so.
The experience
A backlit case contains a geometric mosaic of colors and textures. On closer examination, the mosaic is composed of seeds from Chicago area prairies. Handheld magnifying glasses let visitors explore the wide range of forms, including dense spikes, delicate fluff, slender gold grains, and blood-red pearls.
Opposite this display is an unlikely set of conservation tools: A drip-can, lighter, flame-retardant jumpsuit, face shield, and heavy, insulated gloves. The installation might permit visitors to try on a piece of burn gear. Dramatic footage of a prairie burn accompanies these objects.
The display illustrates the aspects of prairie plants that make them so well-suited to fire—unlike their invasive neighbors. This includes a low growth point, deep root systems, dry leaves that act as accelerant, and seedpods that respond to fire.
The story
The native people of what is today Chicago originally burned prairies to create more robust ecosystems. There is a complex relationship between the shaping of this landscape by both lightening and man-made fires, and the evolution of prairie plants. Their contemporary structure is suited to and in some cases dependent on fire. Ongoing human stewardship helps these species maintain their habitat against encroaching invasive plants and fragmentation.
Few Chicagoans realize their region includes rare ecosystems. Seed processing efforts include a strong citizen science component, providing an opportunity for local visitors to move from awareness to action.
Human stewardship has shaped biodiversity for millennia and continues to do so.
The experience
A backlit case contains a geometric mosaic of colors and textures. On closer examination, the mosaic is composed of seeds from Chicago area prairies. Handheld magnifying glasses let visitors explore the wide range of forms, including dense spikes, delicate fluff, slender gold grains, and blood-red pearls.
Opposite this display is an unlikely set of conservation tools: A drip-can, lighter, flame-retardant jumpsuit, face shield, and heavy, insulated gloves. The installation might permit visitors to try on a piece of burn gear. Dramatic footage of a prairie burn accompanies these objects.
The display illustrates the aspects of prairie plants that make them so well-suited to fire—unlike their invasive neighbors. This includes a low growth point, deep root systems, dry leaves that act as accelerant, and seedpods that respond to fire.
The story
The native people of what is today Chicago originally burned prairies to create more robust ecosystems. There is a complex relationship between the shaping of this landscape by both lightening and man-made fires, and the evolution of prairie plants. Their contemporary structure is suited to and in some cases dependent on fire. Ongoing human stewardship helps these species maintain their habitat against encroaching invasive plants and fragmentation.
Few Chicagoans realize their region includes rare ecosystems. Seed processing efforts include a strong citizen science component, providing an opportunity for local visitors to move from awareness to action.
Module 8: Knowledge of our environment
The message
Conservation begins with knowledge of our environment and its resources.
The experience
Visitors encounter an array of maps: the hand-drawn territory map created by the Maijuna, “memory maps” created with other indigenous groups, social asset maps from the Chicagoland area, and perhaps swell maps from the South Pacific and early surveyor maps of Chicago. At individual touch screen kiosks or a multi-user touchtable, visitors can explore Google Earth to find out where Field Museum scientists are involved in conservation efforts around the world. They can also view rapid color guides, identification keys, and other field materials created for a specific region. Visitors might also have the opportunity to contribute to this or other maps.
The story
This section would help convey very basic concepts that underscore the work of our scientists:
From the perspective of the anthropology staff, something all human communities share is knowledge of their environment and its natural resources for survival. As John Terrell points out, when urbanites shop at Trader Joe’s they’re really foraging for food in a location they know to be successful for finding sustenance. It’s just a matter of how we make choices with this knowledge—that’s conservation.
For biological scientists, it’s important to convey that we can’t protect something if we don’t know what’s there. The Museum has a long-standing relationship with regions around the world to help answer this question. Museum scientists work with local officials and train the next generation of scientists in these countries to share knowledge of the environment and the foundations for conservation. This can be demonstrated in part through the guides we produce, making knowledge of place more accessible.
Conservation begins with knowledge of our environment and its resources.
The experience
Visitors encounter an array of maps: the hand-drawn territory map created by the Maijuna, “memory maps” created with other indigenous groups, social asset maps from the Chicagoland area, and perhaps swell maps from the South Pacific and early surveyor maps of Chicago. At individual touch screen kiosks or a multi-user touchtable, visitors can explore Google Earth to find out where Field Museum scientists are involved in conservation efforts around the world. They can also view rapid color guides, identification keys, and other field materials created for a specific region. Visitors might also have the opportunity to contribute to this or other maps.
The story
This section would help convey very basic concepts that underscore the work of our scientists:
From the perspective of the anthropology staff, something all human communities share is knowledge of their environment and its natural resources for survival. As John Terrell points out, when urbanites shop at Trader Joe’s they’re really foraging for food in a location they know to be successful for finding sustenance. It’s just a matter of how we make choices with this knowledge—that’s conservation.
For biological scientists, it’s important to convey that we can’t protect something if we don’t know what’s there. The Museum has a long-standing relationship with regions around the world to help answer this question. Museum scientists work with local officials and train the next generation of scientists in these countries to share knowledge of the environment and the foundations for conservation. This can be demonstrated in part through the guides we produce, making knowledge of place more accessible.
Module 7: Culture shapes nature/Nature shapes culture
The message
Cultures have shaped nature—and nature has shaped cultures—for millennia.
The experience
Pottery in rich earth tones is clustered in two groups. Stylized nuts, sprouting beans, and schools of anchovies circle pots in the first group. In the second group, a fierce figure—likely a war deity—dominates the pots. Dramatic lighting heightens the contrasting styles.
The story
The Nazca of Peru produced all of the pottery, reflecting a major shift in the culture’s relationship with nature. The first group of earlier pottery reflects a time of plenty, when the Nazca managed abundant natural resources. The second set shows the aftermath of drought, El Niño effects, and increasing conflict with the Wari—successful invaders, in large part due to their highly efficient use of water.
These objects are linked to Ryan Williams’ research on ancient irrigation systems. His findings inform efforts by Peruvian agriculture officials to reconstruct the highly efficient Wari terrace canal systems.
Cultures have shaped nature—and nature has shaped cultures—for millennia.
The experience
Pottery in rich earth tones is clustered in two groups. Stylized nuts, sprouting beans, and schools of anchovies circle pots in the first group. In the second group, a fierce figure—likely a war deity—dominates the pots. Dramatic lighting heightens the contrasting styles.
The story
The Nazca of Peru produced all of the pottery, reflecting a major shift in the culture’s relationship with nature. The first group of earlier pottery reflects a time of plenty, when the Nazca managed abundant natural resources. The second set shows the aftermath of drought, El Niño effects, and increasing conflict with the Wari—successful invaders, in large part due to their highly efficient use of water.
These objects are linked to Ryan Williams’ research on ancient irrigation systems. His findings inform efforts by Peruvian agriculture officials to reconstruct the highly efficient Wari terrace canal systems.
Module 6: Cultural identity & local landscapes
The message
Cultural identity is often rooted in the local landscape. A community’s ability to continue making choices about that landscape is essential to preserving quality of life.
The experience
Visitors enter an intimate, enclosed space. At first, the space is filled with the bright, geometric patterns of Shipibo embroidery. The lights dim and a projected image wraps around the interior, creating the illusion of standing inside a forest clearing in the Shipibo territory in Cordillera Azul National Park. Within the 360° scene, a group of Shipibo teens pose on one wall while water laps at a canoe at the edge of a river on the opposite wall. A Shipbo narrator begins to describe the decision to form Cordillera Azul and the community’s hopes for the land.
As this vignette fades, close-up images of flowers from gardens in Pullman and Calumet region prairies fill the space. A new scene wraps around the interior, this time showing Hazel and Cheryl Johnson in a green lot in Pullman. Narration from the mother and daughter describes their efforts to mobilize the community and reclaim the health of their neighborhood after the collapse of heavy industry.
The story
Alaka Wali and her team identify the intertwined nature of place, culture, and identity as a major asset towards conservation. ECCo examines the choices communities make as they balance concerns about meeting basic needs and desires to have more with the value they place on maintaining the natural landscape. For the Shipibo, this may mean balancing the desire to make money from cattle ranching against the fear of losing local forests. In the Calumet region, this might be rejecting a new factory that could mean jobs in favor of more sustainable development to ensure clean air and clean water. By alternating between stories from Cordillera Azul and Calumet, the common concerns of communities can be highlighted.
To further illustrate this theme, a display could features objects from these communities (and perhaps others) that demonstrate material links to the land: Shipibo embroidery, Cofan headdresses made from feathers, or sculptures made from industrial scrap metal from the Calumet region.
Cultural identity is often rooted in the local landscape. A community’s ability to continue making choices about that landscape is essential to preserving quality of life.
The experience
Visitors enter an intimate, enclosed space. At first, the space is filled with the bright, geometric patterns of Shipibo embroidery. The lights dim and a projected image wraps around the interior, creating the illusion of standing inside a forest clearing in the Shipibo territory in Cordillera Azul National Park. Within the 360° scene, a group of Shipibo teens pose on one wall while water laps at a canoe at the edge of a river on the opposite wall. A Shipbo narrator begins to describe the decision to form Cordillera Azul and the community’s hopes for the land.
As this vignette fades, close-up images of flowers from gardens in Pullman and Calumet region prairies fill the space. A new scene wraps around the interior, this time showing Hazel and Cheryl Johnson in a green lot in Pullman. Narration from the mother and daughter describes their efforts to mobilize the community and reclaim the health of their neighborhood after the collapse of heavy industry.
The story
Alaka Wali and her team identify the intertwined nature of place, culture, and identity as a major asset towards conservation. ECCo examines the choices communities make as they balance concerns about meeting basic needs and desires to have more with the value they place on maintaining the natural landscape. For the Shipibo, this may mean balancing the desire to make money from cattle ranching against the fear of losing local forests. In the Calumet region, this might be rejecting a new factory that could mean jobs in favor of more sustainable development to ensure clean air and clean water. By alternating between stories from Cordillera Azul and Calumet, the common concerns of communities can be highlighted.
To further illustrate this theme, a display could features objects from these communities (and perhaps others) that demonstrate material links to the land: Shipibo embroidery, Cofan headdresses made from feathers, or sculptures made from industrial scrap metal from the Calumet region.
Module 4: Interconnectedness of living things
The message
Communities of living things are interconnected and interdependent—including humans.
The experience
A sculptural representation of an aguajé palm, perhaps made from recycled materials, extends the full height of the gallery. It is both a symbolic and literal “Tree of Life.” Suspended among its branches and nestled among its roots are taxidermy mounts or video monitors showing the diverse creatures whose lives revolve around the aguajé—from large mammals like tapirs and peccaries and brilliant scarlet macaws, to tiny insect pollinators and bats. Clues of human presence are also included—such as a foot band for climbing, packaging for the many products made from aguajé fruit, or video monitors of people climbing and cutting aguajés. Graphics reveal the aguaje fruits’ scaly texture and nearly iridescent sheen.
The story
The aguajé (Mauritia flexuosa) beautifully demonstrates the interconnectedness of species in a community—including humans. The “Tree of Life,” as the first European visitors dubbed it, is an essential food source for large mammals, primates, fish, rodents, and birds. It is a primary nesting site for macaws and provides a home for countless other species, including its tiny insects pollinators. Aguajé is also an important resource for humans. Many rural communities depend on urban sales of products made from the fruit.
Bil Alverson and Robin Foster follow the increasing demand for aguajé in Peru with concern. Its 100-foot height and slippery trunk make cutting down trees the easiest method for harvesting fruit. The Maijuna’s decision to harvest by climbing, instead of cutting trees, points to the importance of local stewardship.
Communities of living things are interconnected and interdependent—including humans.
The experience
A sculptural representation of an aguajé palm, perhaps made from recycled materials, extends the full height of the gallery. It is both a symbolic and literal “Tree of Life.” Suspended among its branches and nestled among its roots are taxidermy mounts or video monitors showing the diverse creatures whose lives revolve around the aguajé—from large mammals like tapirs and peccaries and brilliant scarlet macaws, to tiny insect pollinators and bats. Clues of human presence are also included—such as a foot band for climbing, packaging for the many products made from aguajé fruit, or video monitors of people climbing and cutting aguajés. Graphics reveal the aguaje fruits’ scaly texture and nearly iridescent sheen.
The story
The aguajé (Mauritia flexuosa) beautifully demonstrates the interconnectedness of species in a community—including humans. The “Tree of Life,” as the first European visitors dubbed it, is an essential food source for large mammals, primates, fish, rodents, and birds. It is a primary nesting site for macaws and provides a home for countless other species, including its tiny insects pollinators. Aguajé is also an important resource for humans. Many rural communities depend on urban sales of products made from the fruit.
Bil Alverson and Robin Foster follow the increasing demand for aguajé in Peru with concern. Its 100-foot height and slippery trunk make cutting down trees the easiest method for harvesting fruit. The Maijuna’s decision to harvest by climbing, instead of cutting trees, points to the importance of local stewardship.
Module 3: Understanding a location's biodiversity
The message
Understanding a location’s biodiversity is essential to understanding how best to conserve it.
The experience
Hundreds of shells are clustered together. The largest measure several inches across, while the smallest appears as just a tiny brown dot when viewed through a magnifying lens. The core grouping includes specimens from 627 species—the biodiversity in mollusks initially expected for the Florida Key’s Marine Sanctuary. Through lighting changes or an interactive element, a hidden set of species is revealed. These additional specimens create the full 1,300 species—and counting!—actually identified in the Keys.
The story
When the Florida Keys project began in the mid-1980s, the best data on the region estimated biodiversity at 627 species. Rüdiger Bieler and his team began a longitudinal study to provide better information about this region, for which no systematic data existed. To do this, they started by reviewing collections at number of American museums to piece together what had been found where in the past. For example, the Carnegie Museum had a woman’s seashell collection from the 1930s. While her species identification for the shells weren’t always accurate, her locality information about where and when they were collected was wonderfully detailed and provided important background data on what had lived in the Keys decades ago.
With a picture of the Keys’ past biodiversity, the team could begin diving and documenting. By comparing new finds to the collections information, an understanding of species loss and newly introduced species began to emerge. This directly informs conservation management: Without this research, 627 species would have been the benchmark for “successful” conservation—and 673 species might have gone extinct with no record.
Rüdiger’s colleagues have also been able to track how changes in water quality over several years effects different bivalve populations. Their research on mollusk families and efforts to clarifying taxonomy helped protect a range of threatened file clams from a loop hole in Florida’s fishing laws.
Understanding a location’s biodiversity is essential to understanding how best to conserve it.
The experience
Hundreds of shells are clustered together. The largest measure several inches across, while the smallest appears as just a tiny brown dot when viewed through a magnifying lens. The core grouping includes specimens from 627 species—the biodiversity in mollusks initially expected for the Florida Key’s Marine Sanctuary. Through lighting changes or an interactive element, a hidden set of species is revealed. These additional specimens create the full 1,300 species—and counting!—actually identified in the Keys.
The story
When the Florida Keys project began in the mid-1980s, the best data on the region estimated biodiversity at 627 species. Rüdiger Bieler and his team began a longitudinal study to provide better information about this region, for which no systematic data existed. To do this, they started by reviewing collections at number of American museums to piece together what had been found where in the past. For example, the Carnegie Museum had a woman’s seashell collection from the 1930s. While her species identification for the shells weren’t always accurate, her locality information about where and when they were collected was wonderfully detailed and provided important background data on what had lived in the Keys decades ago.
With a picture of the Keys’ past biodiversity, the team could begin diving and documenting. By comparing new finds to the collections information, an understanding of species loss and newly introduced species began to emerge. This directly informs conservation management: Without this research, 627 species would have been the benchmark for “successful” conservation—and 673 species might have gone extinct with no record.
Rüdiger’s colleagues have also been able to track how changes in water quality over several years effects different bivalve populations. Their research on mollusk families and efforts to clarifying taxonomy helped protect a range of threatened file clams from a loop hole in Florida’s fishing laws.
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