This has been the most fun hashtag on Twitter for a while! #UnScienceAnAnimal
Here’s my take on it for the NZ giraffe weevil (tuwhaipapa):
Some other invert favourites:
This has been the most fun hashtag on Twitter for a while! #UnScienceAnAnimal
Here’s my take on it for the NZ giraffe weevil (tuwhaipapa):
Some other invert favourites:
In October 2017 my dream of becoming a mum became a reality with the birth of my son. A year or so on, I’ve been reflecting a lot about life as a mother and scientist, and the challenges of combining these two rewarding jobs. I’ve been writing this blog in my head for a while and wondering what or how much to say. So much of becoming a parent is personal, confronting, raw and beautiful. It’s hard to know what to share that might help other academic mums and mums-to-be. What follows is my story, even the bits I’m a little embarrassed to share. Also, I offer some reflections on what I think worked for me, how my colleagues, department, and family enabled me to have a fairly smooth transition back to work after my son was born, and some of the things I struggle with.
Pregnancy was tough – anxiety around losing another baby (following miscarriage) mixed with a long period of morning sickness meant a pretty unproductive period at work. I worried about living up to the supermum status that seems prevalent among field biologists while simultaneously congratulating myself if I made it from bed to couch without spewing. I did field work very early on before I got sick, but after that I spent a lot of time lying on my office floor inspecting the carpet (ew) and catching up on lab work.
There was a relatively good period somewhere in the middle where I could keep a meal down and energy levels went up. Foolishly, it was during this bit that I said yes to way too many things and overloaded my plate so that when third trimester exhaustion hit I had to go around apologizing for everything I couldn’t deliver on. Nobody seemed surprised or offended though, all my colleagues apparently being a lot wiser than I.
I was very glad I took 3 weeks of leave to relax and nest before baby was due. I remember this as a glorious time of Netflix binging, reading stacks of second-hand novels by wāhine toa, short waddles and lots of yoga. If I think harder I remember nights roaming the house with insomnia, complaining A LOT about being uncomfortable and intense anxiety about the unknowns of parenthood.
Baby arrived after several days of labour during a straightforward birth one day after his due date. He was small, hairy and perfect. What followed was a pretty dark period of postnatal depression that manifested in not being able to fall asleep for days on end, panic attacks and swelling anxiety that started mid-afternoon and would be out of control by evening. With support from my whānau and amazing midwife I was started on medication that eventually turned things around. The fog slowly cleared and I started enjoying being a mum.
The next few months were a rollercoaster that I’m sure any parent can relate to. I spent an inordinate amount of time on the couch prone while my son slept on me or pounding the pavement with him in the front pack in an attempt to get him to sleep longer than 20 minutes. I felt so guilty about ‘wasting’ time but I look back and wish I could have embraced that special time of cuddles and healing.
When my son was about 4 months old and my depression was under control, I started thinking about work. We had some small semblance of routine that meant on Sundays I would arm my husband with a bottle of expressed milk and head off to our local library for a couple of hours of writing. I LOVED those few hours in the library. This strangely turned out to be one of the most creative and exciting times in my career, as I plotted ideas and wrote grants. In hindsight I think having very few expectations on me while on leave gave me headspace to think. During this time I re-prioritised my research plans for the next few years, coming up with things I could work on close to home now that doing field work in remote places at night was not possible while my son was young.
After 7 months of leave I returned to work part-time, leaving my son in daycare. All things considered it was a smooth transition, but if I’m honest I spent the first few weeks feeling very lost. I guarded my 2 days in the office closely and didn’t really socialise, spending my lunch break pumping milk and cramming as much in as I could so that I could escape home to bubs. My colleagues were wonderfully supportive, helping me to protect my time and focus on what was important with the limited time I had in the office/lab. A couple of months in I travelled to Brisbane with my husband and baby to present at the ASSAB conference. It was expensive to bring them both with me but worked well having them close for breastfeeding, and we made the most of the trip with our first family holiday afterward.
When my son turned one I increased my workload to 4 days a week, which really helped to feel more productive. I love my Fridays at home with him. We always do something special together and I spend a happy guilt-free day focused solely on my son. Around this time I took a research trip to Perth to visit a collaborator, making the most of one of the grants I had written and won while on maternity leave. With generous support from my HoD I was able to take my mum with me to care for my son while I was in the lab, allowing me to spend a fantastic week planning new projects and learning techniques.
So, a year on being a working mum is becoming my new normal. When I’m in the office/lab/field I focus on my work, and when I’m at home my family takes up all my time. It’s not an easy balance and I’m still struggling with a few hurdles. While my son still breastfeeds and my husband works shifts I’m finding it next to impossible to do the field work required for my current postdoc (which researches nocturnal harvestmen found in remote parts of NZ). That frustrates me to no end but I try to remind myself it won’t last forever and I’m trying to find future projects that I can work around my family a little easier. It’s taken a while to learn what working part-time means in terms of what can be done during a working week. I’m learning to say no, even though sometimes I would actually really like to say yes. Since having a child I’ve become hyper-aware of how many work activities happen after 4pm. Although these are usually not essential events to attend, I miss going to networking events and seminars. I’m sure this gets easier as baby gets older.
Lastly, one of the biggest challenges has been overcoming guilt. I’m sure everyone feels it to some degree when becoming a parent but boy oh boy does it pop up often. I feel guilty about my low level of productivity at work over the last couple of years, guilty about not enjoying parenthood in the first few months, and guilty about being happy about going back to work. I’m learning to shrug that off now and it feels so much better.
For what it’s worth, acknowledging that this ‘advice’ is only coming from my own experience, here are some suggestions for new academic mamas:
I’m very excited to be moving to the University of Waikato in Hamilton mid-2019 to start my own lab! From Semester 2 I’ll be teaching the third year undergraduate and postgraduate Animal Behaviour courses so looking forward to putting together an engaging curriculum. Also, I’ll be seeking postgrad students to join my lab, so if you are interested in the behavioural ecology of New Zealand arthropods, please get in touch! I have several projects in mind but also welcome new ideas from prospective students too, especially those that might use behavioural approaches applied to conservation challenges. I aim to build a welcoming, collaborative, and fun lab to work in so if that sounds like you then get in touch and tell me about your interests.
Our little family is in Hamilton this weekend looking at real estate and getting excited about the big move. We’ve lived in several cities over the years, but this is the first time we feel like we can put down roots and so it is really fun looking around different suburbs and thinking about where our 1 year old will call home.
It’s been over 8 months since my last post but I’ve got a fairly good excuse! My first baby was born in October last year and has been keeping me very busy as I learn to be a mum to this very busy little boy. I started back at work part-time in May and have quickly gained a new perspective about the difficulty of balancing life as a mum and keeping up with my research. I’ve got lots of thoughts to share with you about this, but so little time to write at the moment that I’ll save that for a future blog post.
Happy #arachtober everyone! A whole month to celebrate the wonderful world of spiders and other arachnids. Arachnid lovers on Twitter are busy posting photos of their favourite beasties, spreading their passion for these often-feared animals.
Given this, it seemed auspicious timing for the publication of our natural history note on the bizarre feeding behaviour by the jumping spider, Orsima ichnueumon.
My favourite part of being a biologist are the exploratory trips to new places to find creatures you’ve never worked on before. There’s always an element of self-doubt that you’ll not find what you’re looking for, but the effort can be rewarded with a rush of euphoria when you first spot your animal. During these first observations in the wild you start to build a mental picture of the animal’s subtle habitat requirements and the way they behave. Often it’s during these first observations that you realise several of the ideas that you came up with while sitting at your desk are total rubbish, but it’s an exciting time to start formulating new questions based on what you see happening in front of you.
The story we just published in Frontiers in Ecology & Enviroment is based on one of these exciting first observations of a species doing something unexpected.
I became fascinated by O. ichnuemon during my postdoc in Singapore, where I was working on the evolution of colour in jumping spiders. This mesmerizing little species is closely related to several South East Asian jumping spiders that have been the focus of Daiqin Li’s behavioural ecology group. Much of the work has been done on Cosmophasis umbratica, the males of which use elaborate dances to display to potential mates and foes, flashing their iridescent and ultra-violet colours.
Unlike their sister species C. umbratica, O. ichnuemon is rarely observed and almost nothing is known about its natural history. Not only does O. ichnuemon display an impressive array of colours, but they also look rather ant-like in their movement and body shape. Elongated spinnerets (silk-laying structures) extending from their abdomen look like antennae and mouthparts, and the deep constriction in the male’s abdomen gives the appearance of an extra body part to look like an ant with head, thorax and abdomen. These adaptations, in combination with the way they move their body while walking, fool the observer (of the human-kind at least) into thinking they are watching an ant move backwards.
While many invertebrates make easy pickings for predators, ants are often avoided because of their nasty tempers and ability to inflict damage when under attack. For this reason hundreds of insects and spiders mimic ants using an impressive spectrum of ant-like body shapes, structures and behaviour. However, unlike O. ichnuemon, most ant mimics are typically dark brown, red or black, matching the colour of most ants (although there are colourful ants!).
So began my obsession with this little spider!
I began plotting experiments and got excited about working on a relatively unknown species. I was interested in trying to figure out whether Orsima are really fooling potential predators into perceiving them to be dangerous ant prey and what elements of their mimicry were helping them avoid being eaten. At the same time, I also wanted to figure out the role of the complex colours displayed by Orsima, and whether the colours help them to attract mates or repel male competitors, ward off predators as warning colours, or perhaps some combination of both.
Of course, the first challenge to kicking off a project like this is to find your species in the wild. Fortunately a student in the Li lab had spotted them before in the hills above Kuala Lumpur in Malaysia, and so I was able to use his locations to begin my search.
With luck, on the first trip to the University of Malaya Gombak Field Station we were able to find a surprising abundance of Orsima wandering around on forest-edge shrubs. From this my very productive Honour’s student, Renee, was able to do a series of experiments and observations to start teasing apart the possible reasons why Orsima are so colourful.
In the lab Renee staged interactions between either two males or a male and a female to observe the types of behaviours they perform. Jumping spiders have incredible visual acuity, so they tend to be highly responsive to the presence of another spider.
Renee was able to record 28 major elements of behaviour that Orsima perform during courtship or male-male fighting interactions. She found that males had a more complex repertoire of dance and fight moves than females, and that during these displays males would show off their colourful patches by waving their abdomen, palps and legs. Her work has just been published in a really nice paper that painstakingly describes each behavioural element, coupled with lovely photos. Renee went on to do some neat experiments manipulating the colour of the male’s abdomen to test if this changed the response of female spiders and predators. More on that in coming months!
While Renee was busy in the lab, Caleb and I headed off on a second trip to the Gombak Field Station to find more Orsima, with plans for further observations and experiments. We picked up our hire car from KL airport and attempted to navigate our way up the winding roads leading up to the field station on the route to the Genting Highlands.
Unfortunately we managed to time our visit during a very rainy November, and on the night before our arrival several landslips had blocked off the road into the field station. We scratched our heads at the roadblock above the field station trying to decide what to do. As any field biologist knows, a lot of money and time is spent planning these trips, and we didn’t want to have to go back to Singapore without seeing our spiders.
Luckily we had found other locations nearby with very similar vegetation in our previous trip, so we headed over in hope of finding Orsima there. In the tropics, ants are the most dominant insect seen foraging on trees, so it is quite tricky to spot Orsima spiders among them, despite their bright colours. It wasn’t long, however, before we found several Orsima scurrying around on the leaves of a common roadside shrub.
It was here that we spotted the behaviour that we wrote about in our short note for Frontiers in Ecology & Environment. We watched a female Orsima patrolling around on a single tree leaf, where she appeared to be walking between a bunch of little raised discs scattered over the leaf surface, and dipping her head down to feed. At the time, I didn’t know that we were looking at extra-floral nectaries (EFN’s), tiny nectar-filled structures produced by the plant to attract ants. EFN’s are considered a mutualism between the plant and ants, because the plant receives the benefit of reduced herbivory by insect pests (like munching grasshoppers), while the ants receive a reliable source of food.
Not only did we notice that Orsima were feeding on these nectaries, we also watched as they performed a little ceremonial dance after each feeding bout. The spider would walk over the depleted nectary and then waggle it’s abdomen from side to side, leaving behind a patch of silk next to the nectary.
Over the next few hours, we watched several Orsima doing the same behaviour. The spider would remain on the same leaf surface, appearing to be guarding that particular patch of nectaries. The many ants also found on the same tree were also feeding on the nectaries, but they wandered from leaf to leaf, sampling from each nectary on their path. We noticed that the Orsima would sometimes chase away an ant competitor that arrived onto their leaf, and once we even spotted an ant trip over in the little silk patch that the spider had laid around the nectary. We started to wonder if these silk fences were acting as mini barricades to repel ants from foraging on the nectaries.
We thought we’d witnessed something unusual, but it wasn’t until we were back in the lab chatting to our colleagues that we started to figure out how unique the guarding behaviour was. We don’t know of any other spiders that do this strange silk-laying dance after foraging on a nectary.
It’s special because spiders are almost always considered to be carnivores that may occasionally supplement their diet with plant nectar. We’ve seen Orsima hunting small insects in the wild so we know they aren’t strict vegetarians, but it was still hard for us to explain why they would spend time and energy guarding the nectaries and using up silk if this was a small part of their diet.
To be successful mimics Orsima may need to hang out in close vicinity to the ants they resemble so that they can fool potential predators and go under the radar. However, a large number of ants foraging on these trees are also likely to reduce the numbers of potential insect prey for Orsima, meaning less food availability. Although speculation at this stage, we propose that Orsima may offset the costs of fewer prey by guarding the energy-rich nectaries from ant competitors.
We’re looking forward to working further on Orsima to keep teasing apart their fascinating natural history.
To get the full run down of our work on Orsima so far, check out these free to access publications:
Painting, C. J., C. C. Nicholson, M. W. Bulbert, Y. Norma-Rashid, D. Li (2017) Nectary feeding and guarding behaviour by a tropical jumping spider. Frontiers in Ecology & Environment 15: 469-470. Link
Huixin, R. W.*, Y. Norma-Rashid, D. Li, C. J. Painting (2017) Courtship and male-male interaction behaviour of Orsima ichneumon, an ant-mimicking jumper spider (Arachnida: Salticidae). Raffles Bulletin of Zoology 65: 426-439. Link
Last week I attended the Association for Women in the Sciences conference. The triennial meeting happened to be in Auckland this year, so I thought it was a great opportunity to head along and hear from a wide range of women in science. Here are a few things that stood out, as well as some thoughts that came to mind during the meeting.
My favourite talk of the meeting was from Alexia Hilbertidou, founder of GirlBoss New Zealand. Alexia was the second speaker (following the wonderful Jean Fleming) in a session reflecting on change over time in the role of women in science in New Zealand. I’ve rarely seen speakers with such commanding stage presence and passion, and it was hard to believe that 18 year old Alexia has not long finished high school. Feeling isolated as the only girl in her Digital Tech and Physics classes, Alexia was motivated to form a network of young women connected through their love of science and tech. Now with over 8000 members nationwide, Alexia and her team organise leadership workshops and other initiatives aimed at empowering young women to succeed in STEM.
Alexia has a vision for New Zealand to become the first to close the gender gap in science. In another talk at AWIS we heard from Natasha Lewis from the Ministry for Women, who reported a recent study into the 12% pay gap between women and men in the science sector. Alexia’s appeal to close the gap might sound like a lofty idea, but seriously, this inspiring woman has already achieved so much at 18. There’s hope!
It’s sometimes hard to know how we can affect change to improve diversity in science and promote kindness in our workplaces. One way you can help out is to put your name forward to volunteer, mentor and sponsor for future GirlBoss events. There are lots of women doing great science in New Zealand but we need to be visible to young women coming up the ranks so that they know they have a place among us.
I was really interested to hear from Kate Hannah and Siouxsie Wiles of Te Punaha Matatini, outline their policy for sponsoring events. Before agreeing to sponsor an event they have clear guidelines for how they expect events to be organised. These include ensuring conferences are both gender and culturally diverse among keynote speakers and clear advertisement of an anti-harassment policy on the event website. Their website links to a very helpful resource which offers lots of fantastic examples of how conference organisers can make their meetings more diverse. All conference organisers in NZ should check this out!
Here are some of my favourite suggestions for organising great meetings:
Lately I’ve been thinking about how we can get male allies to support us in calling out sexism (and racism, transphobia etc). A column in the New York Times last week by the fabulous Lindy West made a call to male allies to loudly call out sexism when they hear it, and not meekly stand by while women deal with further abuse when standing up for themselves. It’s not easy to stand up against sexism and risk being ostracized by friends, but it’s not enough to just not take part in the conservation or ignore it.
Ways to tackle discrimination and microaggressions in the workplace were discussed at the AWIS meeting. For younger women, particularly in situations where there is a power issue at play, it might be a good idea to find a trusted senior person to talk to. Building a support network to be able to vent after a buildup of daily microaggressions can also be useful for sharing stories and building strength. A great suggestion for responding to offensive comments immediately was to say ‘I can’t believe you just said that out loud’. This calls attention to the comment without directly telling them they’re being inappropriate, but (hopefully) making them think about what they said.
We talked a bit at AWIS about the leaky pipeline (or perhaps more accurately described as broken plumbing) and issues with retaining women in science. Given my precarious position as a postdoc on a fixed term contract, this discussion resonated with me a lot.
I think one of the many factors affecting the leaky pipeline is the expectation for postdocs to head abroad (and often move multiple times to different countries) to have a successful career in academia. Of course going abroad for a postdoc is hugely beneficial in terms of increased collaboration opportunities and learning new skills, as well as being personally beneficial by increasing cultural awareness. However, although issues with mobility can affect anyone, the expectation to move abroad can be particularly limiting to women. This is especially so for women who are starting postdocs at the same time as considering having kids.
Although I did go overseas for one year to do a postdoc in Singapore, I made the decision to end my contract at least one year earlier than intended to return to the same lab that I did my PhD in. My former supervisor had just won a big grant that we’d been working on for years, on which I was the named postdoc. Moving home to NZ seemed sensible for several reasons, including that my partner didn’t find work in Singapore, therefore putting strain on us financially and him personally (being my unpaid lab slave eventually wore thin). We also wanted to return home to start a family close to our support network. I’m quite certain this has been frowned upon by colleagues, but we made the decision that worked best for us as a unit, and I don’t think my research output will be negatively affected by this choice (and I’m lucky that I had that choice anyway!). Surely the experiences picked up from doing longer term postdocs could be almost equally acquired from doing short term lab visits, training workshops and attending international conferences?
A recent article in eLIFE that discusses issues with mobility during postdoc years can be accessed freely here.
Thanks to the organisers of AWIS for a thought provoking and inspiring meeting!
Towards the end of 2016 the Holwell lab had a special visitor, Dr James O’Hanlon from Macquarie University, a behavioural ecologist who’s most well-known for his work on deception in the elusive orchid mantis, as well as his uncanny ability to make a study species just disappear when you go into the field with him. Magic!
Anyway, while James was here he was roped in to giving a workshop on Science Communication for the department, and Lizzy Lowe and I jumped on-board to give him a hand.
As part of this, I did a presentation about why I think it is important, particularly for early career researchers (ECR’s), to have a strong web presence. I also gave some suggestions about ways you can build up your web presence, through a personal website as well as social media.
My main suggestion was that all ECR’s should have their own personal website that is hosted away from their current institute. Many of us have university profile pages which have some contact details and maybe a list of our recent publications, but these are often difficult to update yourself and you have little control over the content that is included. Perhaps most importantly, as ECR’s we tend to change institutes in between our degrees, postdocs and periods of unemployment, so we need a site that we can carry with us.
Luckily, it is super easy to set up your own website without any background in programming, and often for free. There are lots of platforms out there and it is worth asking around to get opinions on the best one, but options like WordPress, Weebly and Wix are all popular choices among scientists. Squarespace also has excellent options, but does charge monthly to use.I started off with a GoogleSites page, but after a while found it a bit clunky and didn’t really like the style of my page there. Most of the above platforms have a bunch of free templates that you can use to build your site from. When you sign up for an account you will be invited to browse the templates until you find one you like, and then you can customise it by adding and naming your pages, and filling in some text and photos. I found WordPress largely intuitive to follow, and when I couldn’t work it out I would google for help.
Alex Bond has some more detailed tips about deciding on a web platform, including making the decision where to host your site. I didn’t really think about this before I built my website and wish I had of done a little bit of reading first! I chose the easy option of doing it through WordPress.com which means I lack some flexibility, but on the flipside it is very easy to quickly whip up a blog post or add my latest paper.
The benefits of having your own website
For me, the most important reason to have your own website (and to engage in a few other web platforms too) is to be easily contactable. As a postdoc I’m still building my connections and raising my research profile, so I want people to be able to find me easily. Potential employers and collaborators may google you to get more information and you want to make it easy for them to find out all the good stuff about you. Having a website also allows you to be accessible to a wide range of other people including journalists (e.g. your local radio station might be looking for scientists to comment on issues or do interviews about general science topics), the public (outreach opportunities), and conference organisers (people looking for contributors to symposia). Another common reason I would need to visit the webpage of an ECR is to get their contact details for nominating them to review manuscripts (I always suggest at least one ECR when I submit an MS for review). If you haven’t already, try googling yourself and see what pops up on the first page!
The essential components of your website
The best part about having your own page is that you can do with it whatever you like. I love browsing through fellow scientists websites and seeing the various ways they make their personality come through onto the screen.
Regardless of the flexibility there are few things that make for a great website:
That’s it, those are the essentials. If you are really new to research you could have all of that one a single page and then add more later once your career advances.
Other good stuff to include on your website
Some tips when putting your site together
It’s a good idea to keep in mind who your audience is when you make a website, especially if you decide to include a blog. If you do decide to blog realise that you have to post pieces fairly regularly to make it worth your time and gain a following.
In general make sure your site is simple and clean, easy to navigate, and up to date. If you treat it like your online CV then you’ll make sure to always update your website when you get a new paper or your work gets covered in the media. Keep your themes and fonts the same throughout so it is nice for your reader to look at.
Once you have your site together you’ll need to make sure people actually visit it. Include links to your site on everything! Your email signature, CV, conference talks, Twitter page and your GoogleScholar profile (see below).
Other platforms to promote yourself on
As well as building your own website, you may find it useful to engage with people across a range of other platforms. Get to know the most common platforms in your field and sign up for an account. I usually try to entice people back to my webpage anyway (e.g. from LinkedIn, Twitter etc.) because I keep that most up to date.
GoogleScholar: Of all of the platforms, I think it is most important to have a GoogleScholar profile. They are really easy to set up, and are so useful as a point of reference for finding publications by a particular researcher. If you are not already familiar with GoogleScholar, it is a list of all your publications with links to the articles themselves, the number of times each work is cited, your H-index, and a list of your co-authors. The profiles aren’t without a few issues (like when they include articles from 1950 that you most definitely didn’t write given you weren’t born yet), but overall, they are pretty useful. You can also set up alerts to keep track of when your own papers are cited, or when your favourite authors publish a new paper.
Twitter: There is already loads of information online about the pros of engaging with your science community online via Twitter. One point I will mention is that Twitter is a great way of raising your profile, especially when you are actively engaging in conversations. Last year I had around 1000 hits on my website that were directed from Twitter, which means that I must have said enough weird stuff online that people were curious enough to click through to my website. Another 1000 hits were from Facebook, which is probably because I also promote my blog to my friends and family there. I find this really neat as it means that I am connecting with people about science beyond my immediate academic community.
Look for inspiration
When I was putting together my website I looked around to see what other scientists were including on their sites. One day I would like to update my site further and add some more cool stuff, but for now I aim to keep it fairly clean and simple. Look around at your colleagues sites and see what you like and what you would rather not include. I particularly like Mike Kasumovic lab website because it is so creative and visually appealing, but I also really love the more simple approach by Megan Friesen. On both of those sites it is really obvious what their research interests are.
You can have a look at the slides from my presentation below:
This morning on my bus ride to work I was kicking back admiring the view of Auckland city and as I always do, was listening to a podcast. Being the start of yet another month in a year that is flying by I had that familiar feeling of panic that I haven’t completed even a quarter of the tasks I had hoped to by this time*. So it was a happy coincidence that I tuned into this TED radio hour podcast, which addressed the things we can learn from slowing down and procrastinating (yes, that’s right, procrastinating!).
Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about how much time I spend doing productive/active tasks like field work, analysing data, or writing a manuscript. Most of my days are made up of these tasks in addition to all the other little things that make up an academic’s life, like replying to emails, reviewing manuscripts and sitting on committees (and let’s face it, extended tea breaks). While one day is never the same by the end of the week I feel like I’ve been going from one task to another, always in a bit of a hurry and never really taking the time to step back and think about where my research is going. Most weeks could be considered productive because I am usually moving projects forward (even just a little), but I’m not really allowing myself to think about the bigger picture and make longer term plans for new projects. The largest part of my anxiety at work comes from the fear of not having the biggest and best ideas to develop into large-scale projects. It could be that I’m just not a very creative person, but perhaps (hopefully) this could be greatly improved by setting aside time to develop those little inklings into big ideas.
What I’ve slowly started to recognise, and what was driven home in the TED podcast, was that we can’t always be moving forward all the time. Although this problem applies across the board in academia, not allowing time to think and plan can be particularly costly for early career researchers. For those of us without permanent positions there is a lot of pressure to come up with a real zinger of an idea that we can write-up into the next big winning grant application. This hopefully gives us a couple more years of salary, and may even give leverage towards getting the elusive permanent position. We are also under a lot of pressure to publish profusely and I can’t help but think that if I’m not producing my peers will be, and I don’t want to fall behind when it comes to being competitive for jobs.
For the really good ideas to come, the ones that aren’t immediately obvious, we need time to reflect and think deeply. Although it’s quite possible that these big ideas may show themselves through fortuitous discovery while working on a current project, or through a stroke of genius, we still need lots of time to fully develop these ideas. It’s pretty much impossible to do this if you are always in a rush to get the next job done.
So how does procrastination fit into all of this? In Adam Grant’s TED talk and in a New York Times column he discusses the attributes of original thinkers and why a moderate amount of procrastination can be helpful. He argues that very organised people, the ‘pre-crastinators‘, tend to rush in to new tasks and want to finish them quickly to reduce their anxiety for an impending deadline. These people tend to be highly productive but not necessarily creative, because they often grasp the first and most obvious idea that comes to mind and run with it. Pre-crastinators are less likely to sit back and think about alternatives or new ways to approach a problem.
I think I could be classified to be a pre-crastinator. I like to reply to emails immediately to get them out of my mind, I always pay bills as soon as they come in rather than waiting for the due date, and I finished my Honours dissertation 3 weeks before the due date while my friends were pulling all-nighters. Little did I realise that I shouldn’t feel quite so smug about being organised because this may be coming at the cost of creativity.
On the other hand, it may not pay to be a chronic procrastinator either, because completing a task in a last minute rush may also lead to you grabbing hold of the most simple and not very well thought out idea. Grant argues that finding a happy medium between rushing in head first and putting things off until you have to pull an all-nighter may be a useful way to become more creative.
Start something but then put it back down. Don’t finish it straight away.
Instead, if you keep the idea mulling over in the back of your mind you may find that you come up with creative insights about how to make it better. People who are quick to start but slow to finish a project may have the creative edge over the rest of us.
I would also argue that as well as letting things bubble away in the background, it is also important to actively put aside time to think. By this I mean turn off the computer, put down the pipette, and move into another mental (and maybe physical) space altogether. I’m sure everyone finds that they have a lot of good ideas when lying in bed just before sleep, probably because this is the first time in the day when we’ve slowed down. I think it is therefore important to find the right setting to allow deep thought and creativity.
A student in Rutherford’s lab was very hard-working. Rutherford had noticed it and asked one evening – “Do you work in the mornings too?”. “Yes” proudly answered the student sure he would be commended. “But when do you think”? amazed Rutherford.
Instead of feeling the pressure to always be doing something with instant, recognisable outputs, I’m trying to put aside more time to think. In the same podcast, Lakshimi Pratury talks about the art of hand writing letters and how they can give you time to consider a deeper response than may be achieved in a quickly fired-off email. This got me thinking about when I have my best ideas. I feel like I’m able to think clearer when I’m cozied up with a good pot of tea and a notebook, rather than staring at my laptop.
Although I usually write papers directly into Word now (I was still doing this by hand until my Honours year!), I still plan out critical ideas and manuscript structures in my notebook first. I also like to print off a few recent papers and read these away from my computer so that I can absorb them slowly and jot down ideas that may spring to mind as I go along. These ideas are then transferred into a word document later on so that I have current and future project ideas in one place, meaning I can shelve them and stew on them to return to at a later point. I often find that once I’ve made these ideas ‘live’ (i.e. made a rough plan or jotted it down in my notebook) they stay in the back of my mind and sometimes listening to a colleague give or talk or reading a new paper can trigger a new direction for that idea. It can be useful to skim over that list of ideas occasionally too and remind yourself of what’s there – I’m sometimes surprised that with time I will be able to add new thoughts to an idea and have a better understanding of how to move it forward.
So, instead of thinking that procrastination is the same as laziness, I’m trying to be ok with being less productive in the hope that it may bring some creativity. I’ve also started knitting and hoping that, once I can do it without having to ferociously concentrate, this hobby might be a nice way to actively relax and have some good thinking time.
*In a classic twist on a post on procrastination, you’ll notice that I started writing this on the first of the month and it is now almost October!
This week I received the great news that Madeleine Thom will be joining me this summer to work on sperm competition in giraffe weevils. Madeleine has been awarded an UoA summer studentship which gives her a couple of months of paid fun to come and hang out with me in the lab and field. Madeleine will be kicking off the first work on sperm competition in the giraffe weevil, in particular addressing how males of different sizes allocate sperm, and whether there are any differences in their sperm morphology. I’m really curious to see what Madeleine finds out.
While Madeleine has things under control on the giraffe weevil front, I’ll be heading off across the country in search of harvestmen. This is the beginning of our project on weapon variation in this group, and one of my main aims this season will be to find good spots to observe the behaviour of a whole bunch of different species. I’ll also be doing several collecting missions to bring back harvestmen to the lab where I can look more closely at chelicerae (jaw) shape and size variation, so that we can start to piece together patterns of weapon evolution among the NZ long-legged harvestmen.
I’m particularly excited about going here:
Should be an above average summer I reckon. Oh and if you’ve ever wondered where the term ‘field work’ (which you’ve probably heard many ecologists use to contrast data collection outdoors vs experimentation in the lab) came from, check out this fun blog.
Have a productive and fun field season ahead southern hemispherites!
I recently spent a week in the Otago Museum arthropod collection in Dunedin where I had a wonderful time picking through the myriad of harvestmen. The sheer abundance and diversity of harvestmen in the collection, and the joy I get from being among all this history made me think – not for the first time – just how important biological collections are.
In my short career I have made use of numerous natural history collections around the world, from my academic roots at the impressive Lincoln University Entomology Research Collection, the secret corridors and quirky displays at the Museo di Storia Naturale in Florence, to the great halls of the British Natural History Museum.
While taking a break to look through the public displays is great fun, the main point of these missions is to delve into the arthropod collections kept behind the scenes. Phenomenal amounts of information are stored in never-ending stacks of drawers, filled with insects, bird skins, jars of pickled snakes…pretty much anything you can imagine! If you want to get an idea of the immense amount of objects stored in a museum’s collection, check out this amazing photo essay from the National Museum of Natural History in Washington DC.
One highlight for me was coming across some of Alfred Wallace’s 19th century collection when I was sorting through some brentine weevils in the British Natural History Museum. I’ll never forget that feeling of wonder that I was (carefully) holding the very specimens that Wallace mentions in his famous book The Malay Archipelago:
“I once saw two males fighting together; each had a fore-leg laid across the neck of the other, and the rostrum bent quite in an attitude of defiance, and looking most ridiculous” (p276-277)
These collections represent a snapshot in time and can tell a story about the community of organisms that were present at the place they were found. The possible contributions that collections can make to society are countless. This paper by Andrew Suarez and Neil Tsutsui describes some of the scientific applications from biological collections housed in museums. Museum collections have been used to understand the spread of Argentine ants across the USA, track the effect of climate change on species distributions, and even learn about the transmission of infectious diseases like influenza. What’s apparent from my own experience using collections, and those studies mentioned in the Suarez and Tsutsui paper, is that being able to use museums saves researchers an enormous amount of time and money. Imagine the cost involved in personally travelling to all of the places around the world to try to find the specimens you are interested in, and this would be impossible anyway if you want to look at historic patterns.
Visiting the natural history museums where the best collections are kept can also allow you to get to know the experts who also work on your study organisms. Natural history museums often hire scientists who as well as maintaining the collections usually have their own research specialty. These are the people who painstakingly describe new species and who build our understanding of the relationships between groups of species. Given the importance of describing the diversity of species we have in the world, taxonomists are an incredibly valuable group of scientists. If you are lucky, your new taxonomist friends might even invite you to stay at their Tuscan villa where you spend your evenings entertaining puppies and watching the sunset over the olive orchards.
During my latest visit at the Otago Museum I had a couple of goals. Firstly I wanted to get my head around the taxonomy of the long-legged harvestmen (Opiliones: Neopilionidae) in New Zealand. Otago Museum was a perfect place to do this because it houses an enormous number of harvestmen that were largely collected by the Dunedin-based arachnologist Raymond Forster, who was director of the museum from 1957 to 1987. Forster and others deposited specimens into the Otago Museum from all over New Zealand, with a particular focus on the South Island. The collection is therefore very useful when trying to figure out what species are where, and at what time of the year I should be looking. This will help me plan subsequent field trips around New Zealand to observe the mating and fighting behaviour of various long-legged harvestmen species, with the larger goal to try to figure out why males have such varying jaw shape and size.
While I was there I also started collecting data on the morphology of as many specimens as I could get through (which was probably 0.0001% of the available collection). As I’m interested in jaw shape and size and how this relates to body size and the sex of the harvestmen, I took lots of photos that I will later use to take various measurements.
So once again I’ve been thankful that natural history museums exist and hope that we can continue funding these valuable institutions. Scientific progress would be greatly hindered if we lost museums and the experts who continue the tradition of describing and understanding our natural world.
If you are interested you can listen to this Our Changing World podcast by Alison Ballance which was made after the recent Royal Society report on National Taxonomic Collections in New Zealand. You can also learn more about the importance of taxonomy and biological collections in New Zealand here.
A drawer of brentid weevils at the Museum national d’Histoire naturelle in Paris