Wholeness

A few more photos from the vernal pool workshop at Jug Bay last Saturday. I mentioned how clear the water is in the pool; this picture of the actual pool, taken in a very shallow area, may give you a better idea of what the bottom looks like, with its layers upon layers of dead leaves.

Vernal pool bottom at Jug Bay. Photo by Jeff Campbell.

Jeff mentioned that this is actually a shot of a marbled salamander larva. Can you spot it? Here’s an inset map:

Inset of above picture. Arrow points to the head of the marbled salamander larva. At least, I think it does.

If you didn’t specifically drag a dip net through the water and then sort gently through the pile of sopping black leaves you brought up in the net, you might see the larvae (at this stage, ~3-4 cm long) wriggling in the shallower parts of the pool. But their movements are not like the constant motion of most fish—amphibian larvae (and salamander larvae perhaps more than tadpoles) spend a lot of time just sitting still, blending into the substrate. Like most attempts at observation in the visual chaos of the woods, it helps to have a search image for the larvae, and, even more, a feeling for the likelihood that they might be found in a certain area of the pool under certain conditions.

The German word Gestalt is used in several fields (e.g., psychology/psychotherapy, computer science). Translated, it means “form” or “shape,” but traditionally it’s used in English to refer to the concept of “wholeness.” I first encountered the word in college in a field ornithology class. Along with teaching us the scientific side of ornithology, my professor was trying to express to us that what she could teach us about bird observation and identification in a semester (actually trimester, at MSU) was very minimal. Only over time, and only if we we had the interest and the dedication, would we develop a Gestalt for seeing birds, and the learning curve in the field would start to flatten. In the case of birds, it might mean recognizing the type of habitat where you might be likely to see, say, bluebirds. Or orioles. Or ruffed grouse. And then, once you get there, being able to recognize from far away, in a few seconds, the movement of a silhouette of a bluebird vs. that of a fox sparrow. This is the intuition that master birders develop over a lifetime of observation and exposure, building their own sensory taxonomies in their heads. You can’t get it from a book, and you can’t download it into your iPod, as much as I love books and iPods. I’ve got a long way to go, not only with birds but with many other creatures, but developing a talent for observation is one of life’s most dependable rewards.

One last picture, of a couple of intrepid friends decked out and ready to not only facilitate scientific inquiry, but also dip into the vernal Gestalt…

Mark and Darcy modeling the latest in Bio Dude and Bio Chick fashions. Photo by Jeff Campbell.