Author: Loree Burns

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Flotsametrics

FLOTSAMETRICS AND THE FLOATING WORLD
By Curtis Ebbesmeyer and Eric Scigliano
HarperCollins, 2009

Category: Non-fiction for adults and TRACKING TRASH fans!

I first met Curt Ebbesmeyer through an AP article that ran in my local newspaper in the spring of 2003. His story—a scientist whose passion was tracking debris around the world ocean in the name of science—inspired my first book for young people. Between reading that newspaper article and publishing TRACKING TRASH (a period of four years), I got to know Curt fairly well. I interviewed him, learned from him, watched him work the fair circuit, and even beachcombed by his side. He is a smart and generous man, and his passion for all things that float is truly inspirational. Which is why I am excited to tell you that today is Curt’s big day …

FLOTSAMETRICS AND THE FLOATING WORLD, his first book, is officially published! Congratulations, Curt!

You can learn more about this “captivating account of the man who turned beachcombing into a science” at its official website. You can buy a copy, of course, from booksellers everywhere. My own pre-ordered copy is finally on its way, and I am rubbing my hands together in delight.

Oh, it bears repeating: Congratulations, Curt! I am giddy for you!

 

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Frogs!

Spring is springing here in Massachusetts, and for me, at least this year, spring means frogs …


© Loree Griffin Burns

Yep. I’ve got more citizen science to explore, and this time it’s an amphibian monitoring project known as FrogWatch. After tagging butterflies and counting birds, monitoring frogs and toads will be a unique challenge … this work is done in the dark and by ear. We don’t look for the frogs, we listen for them, and the best time to hear them is after dark near a suitable water source when the males begin calling for females. Of course, in order to know who is calling you’ve got to learn the calls of all the frogs and toads in your area. (Are you intrigued yet?)

Surprisingly, learning frog calls is pretty straightforward. The official FrogWatch website has everything you need to get started, including photographs and sound clips for every frog and toad in your part of the country. Here in Massachusetts, we have ten species. Learning their calls is tricky, but not impossible. Anyway, check out this page to find a list of all the frogs and toads that live near you. Go on, give it a try.

As if all this weren’t exciting enough, one of my amphibian mentors is also a vernal pool certifier. She’s agreed to let me tag along as she certifies vernal pools in the coming months … and she’s got an extra set of waders.

I LOVE SPRING!

 

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Me and Stephenie Meyer

I know, I know. At first glance, it seems that Stephenie and I have very little in common. She lives in Arizona and I live in Massachusetts. She writes vampire fiction and I write non-fiction about trash and honey bees. But this week, while enjoying a bit of vampire fiction, I discovered a cool connection. You know, of course, this little book Ms. Meyer wrote?

And you remember where it is set? No? Well, then, I’ll tell you. It is set here:


© Betty Jenewin

That, my friends, is the Forks, Washington home of beachcomber John Anderson. I spent an afternoon perusing John’s extensive collection of beachcombed debris while researching TRACKING TRASH. In fact, this picture, found on page 7 of TRACKING TRASH, was taken in John’s Forks, Washington garage:


© Betty Jenewin

Small world, eh?

Having spent some time in Forks, I can tell you that it is just as overcast and misty as Ms. Meyer describes it in TWILIGHT. I didn’t see any cold ones when I was there, but I did see bone-chilling amounts of plastic debris, all of it collected on Forks beaches by John Anderson:


© Betty Jenewin


© Betty Jenewin


© Betty Jenewin

Anyway, if you know any Stephanie Meyer fans who are pining away for more Forks, Washington stories, be sure to let them know about TRACKING TRASH …

 

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Copyedit Fun

Guess what arrived this week? My new-and-improved, fully-copyedited bee book manuscript. Go on, have a peek:

Did you notice the new title? THE HIVE DETECTIVES is now called COLONY COLLAPSE: CHRONICLE OF A HONEY BEE CATASTROPHE. I am not sold on this change yet; what do you think?

Did you also notice the scads of purple ink on the text pages? (You might have to click the image to enlarge it and see the scads clearly.) The fun begins on page one, with the word honey bee. Houghton Mifflin house style calls for this to be changed to a single word: honeybee. Scientists, however, prefer the more accurate two words: honey bee. My job is to figure out which is most appropriate for this book … and once I have to move on and address hundreds of similar issues on pages two through sixty-seven (plus i through xxxv).

If you are my friend and you are a beekeeper, you will surely be hearing from me this week!

 

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My Friend Stephanie!

Last Friday afternoon I took two of my three kids to the 54th Annual Worcester Regional Science & Engineering Fair. It was held at my almer mater, Worcester Polytechnic Institute, but that is not why we went. No, we went to cheer our friend Stephanie, a bright and sophisticated high school junior who I have known since—oh my, it hardly seems possible!—since she was a bright and sophisticated two-year-old.

It was a thrill to watch Stephanie at work with her peers, sharing her research with fair-goers and judges alike. She was one of only twelve students from her high school invited to participate in this Regional Science Fair, and her project, in my humble but clearly-not-unbiased opinion, is timely, intriguing, and important:

Over the course of a semester, Stephanie designed experiments to explore the antibacterial properties of various honeys and, for comparison, sugar solutions. Her findings are intriguing, and the science fair judges agreed:

That is Stephanie accepting her commendation for her research. She will now compete with hundreds of high school scientists across the state at the Massachusetts State Science Fair at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology later in the spring.

Go, Steph, go!

 

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From My Travel Journal


© Ellen Harasimowicz

Some of you may recall that I spent some quality time in the milkweed meadow last fall, watching children and adults tag monarch butterflies in the name of science. I even tagged some monarchs myself. These adventures were all aimed at learning about the tagging process so that I could write about it faithfully in my forthcoming book on citizen science. Going to Mexico to witness the other end of the tagging story was a natural extension of this research. It was also the only way for me to uncover the small details that lend a book of this sort authenticity. Here are some of the surprising discoveries I recorded in my travel journal …

”Our guide, Arturo, had a friend who had found two tagged butterflies; sadly, the friend wasn’t around. But when we returned to the lot at the base of the mountain (a treacherous ride that deserves more mention!) this friend showed up. He tracked Ellen, Gerardo, and I down on our way to lunch. He was shy about his finds, but he let us hold them and I was shocked that the tags 1) weren’t attached to a butterfly (I assumed tags were turned over to MonarchWatch with tag intact) and 2) had the trademark monarch scale pattern on the backside (when the tag is removed from the butterfly wing, orange and black scales come with it).”

”Chip Taylor funds the buy back of recovered MonarchWatch tags from his own pocket. This is shocking! In response to the huge number of recovered tags turned in at Cerro Pelon, he said, ‘If [El] Rosario is anything like this, we’ll run out of money.’”

Two days later I wrote this:

”By the time I was finished interviewing, Chip and crew had run out of funds. Several locals came into the Visitor Center hoping to sell recovered tags, but they had to be turned away. Two young girls were particularly memorable to me; they asked Chip if he could please buy their 47 recovered tags. He had to say no. I could tell this was hard for Chip; it was hard for me, too. Useful migration data was being turned away, and—worse still—two families in need of cash were disappointed. Will they save the tags and come again next year?”

This last was a real stunner. Daniel is a five-year-old boy who turned in twenty recovered tags with his family:

”I asked Daniel’s family—who between them had turned in twenty recovered tags—why the tags were so important to the American scientists. They had no idea.”

To borrow a calculation:

Cost of my trip: Hefty
Value of perspective gained: Priceless

Now to get that book written …

 

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2008 ICC Results Are In

“Marine debris doesn’t fall from the sky, it falls from human hands—and human hands have the power to stop it.”

This week The Ocean Conservancy published the results of the 2008 International Coastal Cleanup. A RISING TIDE OF OCEAN DEBRIS AND WHAT WE CAN DO ABOUT IT details the hard work of the more than 380,000 volunteers from 104 countries who cleaned beaches and counted trash last fall. It’s sobering stuff: more than 11 million cigarette butts, plastic bags, food wrappers, plastic bottles, balloons, tangled fishing lines, etc were plucked from beaches around the world.

You can read more highlights and download the full report here. (TRACKING TRASH readers may recognize the seal on the cover of the new ICC report; it’s the same seal featured on the cover of my book. Photographers Yva Momatiuk and John Eastcott captured these images of a fur seal entangled in abandoned fishing net on South Georgia Island … and they continue to place them where they will inspire ocean conservation.)

This year’s International Coastal Cleanup will be held on September 19, 2009; mark your calendars now … and sign up here.

 

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FireflyWatch


© 6th Happiness (via Wikimedia Commons)

Last summer I spent a glorious week in Boyds Mills, PA. Among the memories I brought back from that week was this curiousity: firefly activity there was much higher than in my own backyard. Are there more fireflies in Pennsylvania? Are they more active? Did I simply sit and watch for fireflies more there than I normally do at home? Are fireflies in my own backyard on the decline? Happily, I now have an opportunity to examine these questions more carefully …

FireflyWatch is a citizen science project hosted by Boston’s Museum of Science. Its goal is to help scientists “learn about the geographic distribution of fireflies and their activity during the summer season,” and anyone can participate. You’ll find more information at the FireflyWatch website.

As some of you know, I am working on a book about citizen science. The number of organized and easy-to-use citizen science projects I have found over the past year has been staggering; I plan to continue introducing them here, because I will never, ever fit all of them in my book. Please help me spread the word by sending teachers and others who might be interested in these activities here. A click on the citizen science tag will bring up a handy page with all the relative entries.

Happy exploring!

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From My Travel Journal …

I’m still transcribing my journal pages from Mexico. This entry is from our last full day in Mexico, when we visited El Rosario, the most well-known of the monarch sanctuaries. At each sanctuary visitors are required to pay an entrance fee, and this fee includes the services of a local guide. At El Rosario, our guide was a lovely Mexican man named Sylvester, who accompanied us up the mountain and answered our many questions.


© Ellen Harasimowicz

“Up ahead we walked along the roped area and discovered an unusual puddling scene: rivulets of water meandered downhill through the grass and hundreds of monarchs puddled in the sun. It was so unexpected, so peaceful. Just ahead the trail turned uphill; it ended shortly after at a line of rope. Beyond the rope we could see large clusters of monarchs on shaded fir trees. As we looked longingly over the rope at those clusters, hoping Sylvester would take pity and let us closer, we looked up and saw a decent-sized cluster directly over our heads. We settled in to wait for the sun to hit this amazing find.”

When the sun finally reached our cluster, Ellen began shooting madly. After having watched her photograph for several days, I knew she would be a while. I hung around for a bit and watched her work, but eventually I was tempted back down the trail…

“After an hour or more, I set out for the puddle alone to wait for Ellen. There were many more people on the mountain now (too many, actually) … and THOUSANDS of puddling monarchs. Thousands! I had to just sit and watch. These were the most remarkable moments of the trip for me — thousands of monarchs drinking at my feet and thousands more flying over and around me. They were happy, full-up sort of moments, contentment in a whirligig of orange and black. The people around me spoke in whispers and stood in awe of the spectacle; I sat and soaked it all in.”

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