Hi Fellow Mellon Scholars,
As we are reaching the end of our program, I've been thinking about what situated research means and reflecting on my own experiences with it. The focus of this post is to dissect how the situated research approach applies to the research process itself - and to generate your thoughts on this idea.
As described on the Lewis and Clark site, the situated research approach should ideally blend nature, social relations, and meaning. However, research does not simply involve your topic - it is an entity in and of itself where nature, social relations, and meaning interact to inform a unique series of processes and perspectives. As we are asked to report on our research, I am struck by just how important this aspect of a multi-year, interdisciplinary, situated research project is...and how difficult it is to report on. It seems that thinking about results in terms of p-values and charts is a far too narrow conceptual framework to capture what the real results of engaging in situated research are!
I explored this idea by creating a new concept map. Here, you can see the evolution of my research over the course of four years. (In each installment, I grayed out the boxes that are no longer as active so that the shifting focus is highlighted.) My research began as a thin skeleton of interests and tools, where the social relationships and the physical environment in which it was situated had not yet had time to entwine themselves with my life. By the final c-map in the series, you can see the sprawling expansion of the research and how profoundly it has shaped my connection to Cocobolo Nature Reserve, influenced my interests and experiences, and forged new social relationships.
If you look at your research experience through a dynamic temporal lens - what does it look like? Similar?
Reflecting on the c-map series I'd created, I realized that the form that research really takes is somewhere between the two extremes of personal results (depicted in the series) and of more traditionally situated results (as in our 2008 c-maps). Imagine if a 3-dimensional c-map were possible: personal and situated boxes with the same theme would be connected. In my case, the boxes that appear on both map sets would be "Chagas disease" and "Cocobolo Nature Reserve." This seems to be the essence of situated research: the theme and location in which my research were situated bind my personal experiences with my research results. Ask this question from a temporal perspective and you can again see that Cocobolo Nature Reserve is the constant of my experience.
Just as memories' persistence from one day to the next are what shape our sense of identity and self, it is the persistence of place in all of the concept maps that give my research - and my experience of research - its shape.
I'm really curious to know if you all agree with this conceptualization of the situated research experience:
How does thinking about the processes/perspectives/places involved in your research project change the nature of the discussion about our "results"? How did you give your project meaning and how did it give you meaning? How did your research - and your ways of thinking about research - change over time?
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Update from Cocobolo
I have just returned from a week out at Cocobolo Nature Reserve!
While we waited for the elderly Land Cruiser's transmission to get repaired, I worked on building two databases of geographic information about CNR. The first was a database recording the species of birds caught in mist nests at various locations, which have been tied to both a GIS and turned into a file viewable on Google Earth. (I should note that back when I was writing my grant, an Engineers Without Borders project to provide the valley with internet was clicking along with speed and enthusiasm. We thought using Google Earth and other sites would be a good way to share geographic data with community members. Unfortunately, the project was repeatedly derailed by layoffs, budgets, and good ole Panamanian weather. Still no internet available at the site!)
The other - much larger - portion of my time was spent working on a database to measure the amount of carbon "banked" at Cocobolo Nature Reserve. This means the amount that is currently locked up in the trees and the soil there. To calculate this we needed to know the average amount in each different stage of forest. The nature reserve is comprised of land with varied land use histories. Some was pasture two years ago when I first visited, some was cattle pasture up until 7 years ago, another portion was a coffee plantation thirty years ago. In its steepest sections, the reserve is mature, undisturbed forest. Each of the different stands has sequestered different amounts of carbon from the air around them. One of the Panaman
ian researchers I was working with had established 16 plots (4/land use type) and surveyed each plot to determine species, DBH, and height for each tree. While in the office, what I worked on was helpig build a database to connect data on carbon content (each species has its own constant hat needs to be used in addition to DBH/height!) with GIS data on tree and plot location.
Once we were out at CNR we continued to work on collecting geographic data for this project. We placed permanent survey-markers at the corner of each of the plots. If you can imagine hiking through a few miles of rain forest with a machete, a GPS unit, and a pile of posts...in 95 degree heat - then you've got the idea! Establishing permanent markers gives us reference points for any future studies and gives us parcels that the NGO (CREA), can resurvey periodically to determine the rate at which carbon is being sequestered.
Our other task qwhile on site was to define the boundaries between forests of different type. The delineation between different age classes is quite clear and the former coffee plantation still retains (now wild) coffee trees. However, trying to assess the demarcation between lower and higher altitude primary rain forest was a different story. The absolute highlight of the trip was trying to determine the location of this boundary. The trees at the high-elevation cloud forest are much smaller and loaded with epiphytes and moss/lichen communities, so the carbon profile is much different. We had a gorgeous hike through the reserve to reach this section and take GPS points; later we were able to plug this into a GIS to show the demarcation.
It might seem tricky to draw a definite line through an ecotope, so our approach was to search for specimens of a fern that only occurs in the high cloud forest. It's resplendent blue sheen makes it easy to spot.
Once we'd noted the lower limit of the fern's range and checked the altimeter reading, we simply extrapolated a boundary between the forest types at that elevation.
While we waited for the elderly Land Cruiser's transmission to get repaired, I worked on building two databases of geographic information about CNR. The first was a database recording the species of birds caught in mist nests at various locations, which have been tied to both a GIS and turned into a file viewable on Google Earth. (I should note that back when I was writing my grant, an Engineers Without Borders project to provide the valley with internet was clicking along with speed and enthusiasm. We thought using Google Earth and other sites would be a good way to share geographic data with community members. Unfortunately, the project was repeatedly derailed by layoffs, budgets, and good ole Panamanian weather. Still no internet available at the site!)
The other - much larger - portion of my time was spent working on a database to measure the amount of carbon "banked" at Cocobolo Nature Reserve. This means the amount that is currently locked up in the trees and the soil there. To calculate this we needed to know the average amount in each different stage of forest. The nature reserve is comprised of land with varied land use histories. Some was pasture two years ago when I first visited, some was cattle pasture up until 7 years ago, another portion was a coffee plantation thirty years ago. In its steepest sections, the reserve is mature, undisturbed forest. Each of the different stands has sequestered different amounts of carbon from the air around them. One of the Panaman
ian researchers I was working with had established 16 plots (4/land use type) and surveyed each plot to determine species, DBH, and height for each tree. While in the office, what I worked on was helpig build a database to connect data on carbon content (each species has its own constant hat needs to be used in addition to DBH/height!) with GIS data on tree and plot location.Once we were out at CNR we continued to work on collecting geographic data for this project. We placed permanent survey-markers at the corner of each of the plots. If you can imagine hiking through a few miles of rain forest with a machete, a GPS unit, and a pile of posts...in 95 degree heat - then you've got the idea! Establishing permanent markers gives us reference points for any future studies and gives us parcels that the NGO (CREA), can resurvey periodically to determine the rate at which carbon is being sequestered.
Our other task qwhile on site was to define the boundaries between forests of different type. The delineation between different age classes is quite clear and the former coffee plantation still retains (now wild) coffee trees. However, trying to assess the demarcation between lower and higher altitude primary rain forest was a different story. The absolute highlight of the trip was trying to determine the location of this boundary. The trees at the high-elevation cloud forest are much smaller and loaded with epiphytes and moss/lichen communities, so the carbon profile is much different. We had a gorgeous hike through the reserve to reach this section and take GPS points; later we were able to plug this into a GIS to show the demarcation.
It might seem tricky to draw a definite line through an ecotope, so our approach was to search for specimens of a fern that only occurs in the high cloud forest. It's resplendent blue sheen makes it easy to spot.Once we'd noted the lower limit of the fern's range and checked the altimeter reading, we simply extrapolated a boundary between the forest types at that elevation.
Monday, January 4, 2010
January 2010 Visit
Greetings from Panama! I am on my second and final research trip my field site and wanted to update you on all that has happened.
Background
The project's evolution since my first visit has been tremendous. During the initial trip to Cocobolo Nature Reserve (CNR) my interest in applying microclimate mapping to a specific local problem was sparked. Chagas disease, a neglected tropical disease spread by triatomines, immediately came to the forefront. The natural history of triatomines is fascinating and complex. Triatomines can be found in all of South America, Central America, and even the Southern U.S.
In the cooler climates of the Southern Cone triatomines cannot survive without occupying human dwellings, so an eradication campaign against the endemic species, Triatoma infestans, succeeded easily. In regions closer to the the equator, however, eradication is not so simple. Triatomines there can either have sylvatic life cycles (subsisting solely on warm-blooded vertebrates in the forest) or be domiciliary (adapted to inhabiting human dwellings). Given the hot, relatively stable year-round climate of Panama, the two most prevalent triatomine species, Rhodnius pallescens and Triatoma dimidiata, are not strictly tied to sylvatic of domiciliary life cycles. This makes it far more difficult to rid villages of these dangerous disease vectors.
For this reason, I had hoped to study the microhabitat conditions that Panama's triatomines most prefer. By understanding the unique light, temperature, and humidity preferences of the Chagas vectors, I was expecting to be able to describe changes that could be made to decrease the triatomines' preference for infesting human dwellings. In this way, new cases of Chagas disease could be avoided not by spraying insecticide (which is ineffective in the Panamanian context), but by helping local residents manipulate the way they relate to the natural world.
Allow me to contextualize this idea in the specific area of Panama that I have been focusing on. The town nearest Cocobolo Nature Reserve, Las Zahinas, is a small village in an extremely rural setting. Las Zahinas' economy is primarily agrarian, putting people into frequent contact with forests of many different stages of regeneration. I had hoped to look at the interfaces between their daily lives and the lifecycles of triatomines. For example, certain housing types (thatched roofs), spatial relationships (close proximity to palm trees that function as triatomine refugia), and lifestyle elements (peridomestic livestock) are all locally relevant risk factors.
Planned Research
Based on the research question outlined above, my plan for this research trip had been:
1 - Take GPS coordinates of homes in Las Zahinas
2 - Take GPS coordinates of palms in Las Zahinas
3 - Deploy wireless sensors to different housing types to determine microhabitat characteristics of each
4 - Administer household survey to ascertain self-reported triatomine abundance
Once these data were collected, the analysis would have allowed me to determine if proximity to palms was a risk factor, if microclimate differed by housing type, and if triatomine abundance was - consequently - related to housing type.
These data, though based on correlations to self-reported triatomine presence/abundance, would have allowed us to evaluate risk factors and make practical, locally-relevant recommendations based on a mechanistic model. But...
On Use of the "Past Perfect" Tense
You have by now probably noticed that I'm making abundant use of the past perfect verb tense. Here's why:
Two days before leaving for this research trip, ticket already in hand, I found out that our wireless sensors were malfunctioning - badly. To gather the necessary data, we would have had to deploy the sensors as independent, overnight data-loggers. Currently, though, the sensors are unable to log data and report it when reconnected to the base station. It seems only the manufacturer is going to be able to untangle this issue - nothing my colleagues have tried has worked.
From there, it is obvious how my neatly planned research unraveled. Without the crucial element of quantitative data on the microhabitat conditions within different housing types, the proposed study became impossible. Determining a relationship between proximity to palm trees and household triatomine abundance would still be possible, but this variable was only of interest in relationship to the microclimate of housing types. Alone, the correlation has already been established, so such a study would not add to scientific understanding of triatomine ecology.
Upon first hearing this news, I was pretty devastated. To have spent two years exploring the scientific literature on Chagas disease ecology and designing a completely reasonable/practical/useful project around it only to have it crushed by totally unexpected technical difficulties just before departing?! Unbelievable. Still, this has been a great opportunity to truly understand what it means to conduct situated research. Using the past perfect is an indication of having had everything planned, calibrated, ready to go...and then hitting unexpected difficulties and being forced to change course. I had thought I had a perfect research project on my hands until a week ago. Now, though, I am past perfect; I've entered the untidy, frustrating world of applied research. And this - this complex jumble of real and messy events - is what science is all about.
Moving Forward
So - where am I going from here? Well, I will be in Panama through January 10th and there's a lot I hope to accomplish. Currently, my colleagues and I are stranded in Panama City waiting for the transmission on our partner-NGO's truck to get repaired. (Yep - that's how far past perfect we are). We should be out at our research site, Cocobolo Nature Reserve by tomorrow or Wednesday. Once there, I'll be diving into some of the other goals I had initially detailed in my grant, namely strengthening the geographic information system for the nature reserve. Cocobolo Nature Reserve is currently striving for documentation of the carbon they offset through reforestation. To initiate this process, having precise land use maps is even more critical now than when my work began. Thus, I will spend the next few days working with my Panamanian counterpart Emilio to cement and mark the location of 16 permanent monitoring plots that are each 25x40 m and are distributed throughout different land use types. The represented land use types are: primary forest, late secondary forest, early secondary forest, and pasture. Emilio has documented all of the tree species in these plots, giving us detailed data on the amount of carbon sequestered by each forest type. In order to extrapolate this to the entire reserve, we'll be doing a more fine-grain delineation of forest types throughout the whole property. Translation: I'm in for lots of walking around with a GPS unit!
Background
The project's evolution since my first visit has been tremendous. During the initial trip to Cocobolo Nature Reserve (CNR) my interest in applying microclimate mapping to a specific local problem was sparked. Chagas disease, a neglected tropical disease spread by triatomines, immediately came to the forefront. The natural history of triatomines is fascinating and complex. Triatomines can be found in all of South America, Central America, and even the Southern U.S.
In the cooler climates of the Southern Cone triatomines cannot survive without occupying human dwellings, so an eradication campaign against the endemic species, Triatoma infestans, succeeded easily. In regions closer to the the equator, however, eradication is not so simple. Triatomines there can either have sylvatic life cycles (subsisting solely on warm-blooded vertebrates in the forest) or be domiciliary (adapted to inhabiting human dwellings). Given the hot, relatively stable year-round climate of Panama, the two most prevalent triatomine species, Rhodnius pallescens and Triatoma dimidiata, are not strictly tied to sylvatic of domiciliary life cycles. This makes it far more difficult to rid villages of these dangerous disease vectors.
For this reason, I had hoped to study the microhabitat conditions that Panama's triatomines most prefer. By understanding the unique light, temperature, and humidity preferences of the Chagas vectors, I was expecting to be able to describe changes that could be made to decrease the triatomines' preference for infesting human dwellings. In this way, new cases of Chagas disease could be avoided not by spraying insecticide (which is ineffective in the Panamanian context), but by helping local residents manipulate the way they relate to the natural world.
Allow me to contextualize this idea in the specific area of Panama that I have been focusing on. The town nearest Cocobolo Nature Reserve, Las Zahinas, is a small village in an extremely rural setting. Las Zahinas' economy is primarily agrarian, putting people into frequent contact with forests of many different stages of regeneration. I had hoped to look at the interfaces between their daily lives and the lifecycles of triatomines. For example, certain housing types (thatched roofs), spatial relationships (close proximity to palm trees that function as triatomine refugia), and lifestyle elements (peridomestic livestock) are all locally relevant risk factors.
Planned Research
Based on the research question outlined above, my plan for this research trip had been:
1 - Take GPS coordinates of homes in Las Zahinas
2 - Take GPS coordinates of palms in Las Zahinas
3 - Deploy wireless sensors to different housing types to determine microhabitat characteristics of each
4 - Administer household survey to ascertain self-reported triatomine abundance
Once these data were collected, the analysis would have allowed me to determine if proximity to palms was a risk factor, if microclimate differed by housing type, and if triatomine abundance was - consequently - related to housing type.
These data, though based on correlations to self-reported triatomine presence/abundance, would have allowed us to evaluate risk factors and make practical, locally-relevant recommendations based on a mechanistic model. But...
On Use of the "Past Perfect" Tense
You have by now probably noticed that I'm making abundant use of the past perfect verb tense. Here's why:
Two days before leaving for this research trip, ticket already in hand, I found out that our wireless sensors were malfunctioning - badly. To gather the necessary data, we would have had to deploy the sensors as independent, overnight data-loggers. Currently, though, the sensors are unable to log data and report it when reconnected to the base station. It seems only the manufacturer is going to be able to untangle this issue - nothing my colleagues have tried has worked.
From there, it is obvious how my neatly planned research unraveled. Without the crucial element of quantitative data on the microhabitat conditions within different housing types, the proposed study became impossible. Determining a relationship between proximity to palm trees and household triatomine abundance would still be possible, but this variable was only of interest in relationship to the microclimate of housing types. Alone, the correlation has already been established, so such a study would not add to scientific understanding of triatomine ecology.
Upon first hearing this news, I was pretty devastated. To have spent two years exploring the scientific literature on Chagas disease ecology and designing a completely reasonable/practical/useful project around it only to have it crushed by totally unexpected technical difficulties just before departing?! Unbelievable. Still, this has been a great opportunity to truly understand what it means to conduct situated research. Using the past perfect is an indication of having had everything planned, calibrated, ready to go...and then hitting unexpected difficulties and being forced to change course. I had thought I had a perfect research project on my hands until a week ago. Now, though, I am past perfect; I've entered the untidy, frustrating world of applied research. And this - this complex jumble of real and messy events - is what science is all about.
Moving Forward
So - where am I going from here? Well, I will be in Panama through January 10th and there's a lot I hope to accomplish. Currently, my colleagues and I are stranded in Panama City waiting for the transmission on our partner-NGO's truck to get repaired. (Yep - that's how far past perfect we are). We should be out at our research site, Cocobolo Nature Reserve by tomorrow or Wednesday. Once there, I'll be diving into some of the other goals I had initially detailed in my grant, namely strengthening the geographic information system for the nature reserve. Cocobolo Nature Reserve is currently striving for documentation of the carbon they offset through reforestation. To initiate this process, having precise land use maps is even more critical now than when my work began. Thus, I will spend the next few days working with my Panamanian counterpart Emilio to cement and mark the location of 16 permanent monitoring plots that are each 25x40 m and are distributed throughout different land use types. The represented land use types are: primary forest, late secondary forest, early secondary forest, and pasture. Emilio has documented all of the tree species in these plots, giving us detailed data on the amount of carbon sequestered by each forest type. In order to extrapolate this to the entire reserve, we'll be doing a more fine-grain delineation of forest types throughout the whole property. Translation: I'm in for lots of walking around with a GPS unit!
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