The question of how organisms communicate with and locate one another has been a cornerstone of ecology for hundreds of years. Communication involves the exchange of information among individuals of the same or different species. It is obvious that communication plays an integral role in human society, where a miscommunication can lead to confusion, distrust, or disdain.  This same concept is thought to be relevant among non-human animal societies. Animal communication mediates social relations, fosters interactions between and among species, and also facilitates fundamental behaviors such as mate choice, predator avoidance, foraging, among others. Communication is therefore crucial for animal survival and reproduction. As a consequence, several species of animals have developed novel ways of conveying vital information to each other. Animals can do so via sounds (e.g. dogs bark, lions roar, birds sing, but what does the fox say?), through visual displays (think peacocks), color change (e.g., in octopuses, chameleons, and cuttlefish), and others. Interestingly, when it comes to the communication of giraffes – one of the most fascinating species of African wildlife – we know precious little. No one can really say, for instance, how giraffes exchange information among each other. We do not even know how one giraffe finds another!

How can this possibly be the case? How can we not know fundamental ecological facts about one of the world’s most interesting mammals? Well, giraffes have not, until recently, garnered much scientific attention at all. In fact, it was not until the 1970’s that it was observed that giraffes actually vocalize. Until that point, it was popular belief that giraffes were mute. Giraffe vocalizations, though quiet, have now been described as hums, snorts, growls, hisses, and bursts. Of course, in addition to vocalizations, giraffes might communicate with one another in via their senses of small or sight. Scientific research to date has only been successful at describing signals and sensory organs that are thought to be useful in giraffe communication. Current work has focused on describing the anatomy of giraffe eyes and visual capabilities, scent organs and chemical signals, and vocal range. Hardly any research however, has examined the intent, cause, and context of these communications. Given the marginal research on this topic, several outstanding questions relating to giraffe communication remain. For instance, giraffes maintain a fission-fusion social system. This is merely a complex way of saying that they variably live in large groups and small groups throughout a day and over time. Given that, we still do not know how giraffes maintain social cohesion, what inspires them to live in groups, and how they speak to each other. 

These questions came at an opportune time for me given that they coincided with the start of my PhD in the Research on the Ecology of Carnivores and their Prey (RECaP) Laboratory at Michigan State University. To get a better understanding of what is known about how giraffes communicate, my advisor Dr. Robert Montgomery and I were inspired to conduct a review of existing literature on giraffe communication. In August of 2017, we conducted a thorough search of published literature (using the Web of Science, Scopus, Wildlife Studies Worldwide, and the Michigan State University library search engines) looking for studies referencing giraffe communication across visual, auditory, and olfactory dimensions. To our surprise, the initial search returned a meagre 10 studies. From these we could hardly extract comprehensive information on how giraffes exchange information among themselves.

We did not despair! We conducted another round of searches and doubled our total. Unbelievably, there have only been 21 studies published between 1958 and 2018 on the topic of giraffe communication. Furthermore, only five of these studies examined giraffe vocalizations. These found that giraffes produce infrasonic and audible vocalizations (i.e., hums, snorts, growls, hisses, bursts). The studies that focused on giraffe chemical and visual communication tended to investigate form and structure of the organs responsible for the production of these signals. These found substantive evidence that giraffes have acute visual and chemical senses. For example, giraffe eyes are the largest among land mammals and next to diurnal primates in visual acuity.
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We have just published this review, entitled “How do giraffes locate one another? A review of visual, auditory, and olfactory communication among giraffes” in the Journal of Zoology. In this publication, we synthesize the published information on giraffe communication across visual, auditory and olfactory dimensions. We describe what is currently known of these dimensions and codify potential avenues for further giraffe communication research. Hopefully, this article will demonstrate to the scientific community how little we know of giraffe communication in the hopes that we can renew our efforts to learn more about the ecology of this majestic species. 

In three months of evaluating human perceptions of large carnivores, only one person walked out of an interview and refused to speak with us. Initially, I chalked this experience up to just an uncomfortable outlier. In reality however, this incident provided me with a necessary and valuable lesson in conducting international research – one that can only be learned the hard way. 

I have spent the summer in the Maasai steppe region of Northern Tanzania for the first field season of my PhD here in the Research on the Ecology of Carnivores and their Prey (RECaP) Lab. I’ve been working with fellow RECaP student Rose Kaihula to conduct interviews with local livestock-owners about human-carnivore conflict. As part of my research I am interested in evaluating patterns in carnivore attacks of livestock at the boma – the traditional thornbush corral that is used to protect livestock at night. My interviews have centered on the perceptions held by local people relating to the frequency and intensity of livestock depredation at the boma, with questions about the number of livestock they’ve lost and the carnivores responsible for those attacks.
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Although I know the basics of Swahili, I’m far from fluent, so Rose takes the lead in our interviews. While my Swahili comprehension has increased exponentially throughout the past few months, as soon as the conversation breaks away from the general pattern we’ve established in our interviews, I get lost pretty quickly. To compensate, I have begun to pay close attention to body language, tone of voice, and any other hints that might help me keep up and respond appropriately.

These were the signs that tipped me off that one of our interviews was not going as anticipated. As the conversation went on, both Rose and Jackson (our Tanzanian research assistant) began to slowly hunch their shoulders and sink into their chairs as if bowed down by the weight of the conversation. The mzee (elder) we were speaking to, who was the head of the boma and a wiry Maasai man of about 60 years old, echoed their posture. Rose and Jackson both murmured “pole sana” (“so sorry”) every few words in response and I knew that the conversation had quickly transitioned into one of intense personal hardship. It was at that moment that an unexpected voice from behind shattered the quiet conversation.

Rose, Jackson, and I stiffened with shock as the mzee’s wife interrupted, speaking over her husband. She didn’t yell, but the harshness and pain in her tone made her emotions very clear, even if I couldn’t follow her quickly spoken words. After this very brief interjection, she turned and departed. The rest of us remained sitting in painful silence. Eventually, the mzee stood up, sighing, and beckoned us toward the boma entrance. The three of us followed behind him and Rose quickly filled me in under her breath as we walked toward the farm behind the boma.

The story is tragic and all too common in this region. The family’s eldest son had been killed by an elephant in 2013 while trying to chase a herd of the animals out of their farm - he was 22 years old. The family reported their loss to the authorities who came and conducted multiple rounds of interviews, gathering all the details of the incident and taking hundreds of photos. All apparently for nothing. The family had been forced to relive their catastrophic loss over and over and over again, and they’d never received anything from the government. No compensation. No assistance. Not a word. The family lost their son and their farm, which was destroyed by the same herd of elephants. Thus, they had no choice but to pick themselves up and keep going to make sure they didn’t lose their other two sons to starvation. I finally understood the emotions that I was seeing during the interview, and I could feel the weight of them on me as well, along with a slight discomfort in my chest as the meaning of the mother’s words become obvious.  As I tentatively asked Rose, “And what did she say?” my suspicions were confirmed.

“Why are you here? To make us relive his death again? To remind me of my dead son? We have told our story more times that I can count, and no one has ever helped us. Just leave us to mourn him in peace.“
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Her words echoed in my head as her husband and second son led us to their farm and showed a swath of ruined crops from another elephant visit just a few days before. After walking us around, the mzee turned and met my eyes squarely, asking a question in Swahili that I understood because I’d heard it at the end of every single interview up until that point. However, this was the first time that I really felt the words, truly understood the meaning and the pain behind them. “What is the point of your research? What help can you give us?” In response, we repeated the answer that we’ve used consistently up until this point: “We’re just in our first year, we’re using our conversations this summer to develop a better idea of what would really be useful and valuable here. Next year, we’ll be back to do something more tangible, but we won’t know what that is until we’ve had a chance to analyze our data from this summer.” He nodded, with a look in his eye that said he didn’t really believe us. Even so, as we walked away, he pulled a few ears of maize off of the plants that were still standing and handed them to us as a gift.

Rose and I both spent the rest of the day lost in our own thoughts, rallying to conduct a few more interviews, but eventually calling the day early and driving home in silence. My research intends to address human-carnivore conflict. But the people that live in this landscape are agro-pastoral. This means that in addition to raising livestock, they also maintain small-scale farms. Their livestock herds primarily function as a form of savings account. The animals will be sold when necessary and occasionally slaughtered for important events, but do not serve as an everyday source of food. This is where the farms come in. The small-scale farms are primarily used to grow maize and beans – the staples of the local diet – and are relied upon to feed families throughout the year. Elephants are notorious crop-raiders and even a small herd is more than capable of destroying an entire year’s worth of food in a single night. Thus, the people living in this area fear elephants just as much as carnivores and I’d finally seen for myself why this is the case. My thoughts were swirling around an idea that I’d briefly touched on throughout the field season, but had lodged itself firmly into my mind as we were standing in the ruined farm: what if my research can’t provide the knowledge that they need?  
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My doctoral research is centered on a specific aspect of human-carnivore conflict – optimization of conflict mitigation efforts from advance pattern-recognition approaches. In other words, analyzing long-term patterns in human-carnivore conflict to make sure that we’re using our limited resources and time effectively and efficiently. To do so, we first need to know the details of what is happening at a fine scale. Approximately 80% of all livestock that are killed in this region are taken at night from the boma, so I have decided to collect my data at that household level. My eventual goal is to determine which carnivore species visit bomas in different parts of the study area (staking out potential meals, if you will), which ones actually attack livestock at those bomas, and how often these two interactions occur. The resulting patterns can provide insights into what types of deterrents might be most effective to protect livestock against different carnivores. Less buck, more bang. The bang here being a reduction in the effects of living with large carnivores, especially in terms of loss of livestock. This summer, my interviews have honed in on one particular aspect of that issue, and I’ve been asking each family how often their boma is attacked by carnivores (specifically lions, leopards, hyenas, and jackals) as well as which carnivore species people think poses the greatest threat to their livestock and livelihood. 

I came to Tanzania with very clear expectations of what people might say, something we’re always warned in science is a bad idea but is also almost impossible to avoid. Selfishly, I hoped that people would say that lions aren’t the primary threat in that area, as that would set me up well for the next step in my research. I fully expected to be told instead that hyenas are the biggest problem, taking the most livestock and threatening livestock most often. To a certain extent, my predictions were correct. Lions don’t have the most impact. But neither, as it turns out, do hyenas. Independently, almost every one of our 100+ interviewees brought up the hardships caused by tembo – elephants. They all asked for help protecting their farms from elephants, not protecting their livestock from carnivores.
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In some ways it is reassuring to see my academic predictions come true, but I also seem to have fallen into a careful what you wish for trap. For example, the mzee whose son was killed almost laughed when Rose asked how often lions attack his boma. They hadn’t seen lions at their boma in years, and have never lost livestock to them. But the rest of the story derails the perfect academic narrative I had anticipated. He doesn’t rant about the effect hyenas have on his livelihood. Although hyenas attack his boma on a regular basis, he almost shrugs it off. They know how to deal with that problem, they have dogs and flashlights that are effective at chasing the animals away. In the past few years he hasn’t lost any livestock to hyenas either. His life was torn apart by the largest herbivore in the land instead. The one that had developed a taste for maize.
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As a girl who has dreamed of studying African carnivores since my pre-teen days, and has finally been given the chance to do it, these experiences have shaken my foundation. In a circular fashion, I find myself again asking the big question: what if my research can’t provide the knowledge that local people need to sustainably interact with wildlife? 

I have spent my entire career learning about carnivores, their ecology, behavior, and interactions with humans. In comparison, I know next to nothing about elephants. I have no preparation to provide help or advice for that brand of conflict. While I will continue to focus my research on carnivores, this experience has taught me a very important lesson. As a scientist studying the intersection between humans and wildlife, I have to pay as much attention to the human stories as the ecological ones. Those voices haven’t been telling me to become an elephant expert, they’ve just been telling me to listen and not take people’s time for granted.

In many ways, the language barrier this summer has been a gift because it has forced me to spend a season doing just that - listening. I’ve begun to truly understand that I can’t insert myself into the personal experience of other people and tell them what they need or what will make their lives better. The people who share their landscapes with fierce carnivores and gigantic herbivores are the only ones who can truly know that, and it is my responsibility to take those lessons and use my platform and privilege to help as best I can. Instead of using local people to help me get a PhD, I need to use the resources I’ve been granted during my degree to take the actions that will directly benefit these people. What those actions are and how I can best adapt my project to make a positive impact, I’m not yet sure (after all, I do actually have to analyze this summer’s data first). But I know that the way I see the data has irrevocably changed. Every number is a story, a hardship, a loved one lost, and must be treated with the gratitude and respect it deserves. Maybe I can’t personally solve the elephant problem here, but I can take the time to make sure that my carnivore research makes a positive impact on the lives of local people and that I carry it out in a way that is primarily informed by their experience, not mine.

There is one other interview that has been permanently fixed in my mind, this time with a young Maasai man who answered every question with incredible thoughtfulness. When given the chance to ask questions or make comments at the end of the session, he looked at us with absolute sincerity and said “There are three types of research: the kind that makes a positive difference, the kind that hurts us, and the kind that just takes information and leaves. Which one are you doing?”  

Flashback to high school age
I looked outside, but I couldn’t see anything; it was all dark. I couldn’t sleep anymore. While lying in my bed struggling with jet lag, I was thinking about a series of events and I smiled, realizing where I was. I was home!   

After two years of classes in a new country, experiencing a new culture, new weather, new food, a new academic system, new everything—I finally made it! I had succeeded in acquiring my Master’s degree from Michigan State University (MSU) and now I was back in my home country of Tanzania. But this was just the beginning of a new journey, the journey that I had dreamt of for more than ten years, the journey towards my Ph.D. I remember sharing this dream with a friend in secondary school and he brought to my attention the many difficulties and barriers that I would encounter, such as the financial struggles, the competitive nature of American graduate schools, making professional connections, time commitments, and many others. The take home message was, “Rose – what makes you think that a girl from Dar es Salaam could ever get a Ph.D. from an American university?” I knew that these challenges wouldn’t hinder me. I would turn the challenges into opportunities. But there was one very pragmatic concern that could seriously ground me. How could I possibly cover the costs of a Ph.D.? 

You see, I do not come from money. When I was 12 years old I lost my older brother. Five years after, both of my parents passed as well. These harsh realities left me as the primary care-giver of my younger sister when I was just 17 years old. With a renewed determination, I recognized that I couldn’t lose my parents, a brother, and my DREAM as well. So, I set off with the support of my uncle, other family members, and my friends, to undertake the biggest challenge of my life. In 2015, I won a prestigious MasterCard Fellowship to study for a Masters degree in social work at MSU. That opportunity opened many doors for me. And before I graduated from my Masters, I received acceptance and funding to pursue a Ph.D. in the School of Social Work at MSU. 

Beginning of summer
Lying in my familiar bed I felt proud of what I had achieved and happy to be home. But mostly I felt ready to take on the next challenge. Now too excited to sleep, I got out of bed and started getting ready for the day. Today I would be meeting two of my colleagues from the Research on the Ecology of Carnivores and their Prey (RECaP) Laboratory who would be joining me in research efforts here in Tanzania. Although I am a social worker, my research interests involve understanding the social dimension of human-wildlife conflict. That is the reason I decided to collaborate with a student laboratory that conducts cutting-edge research on ecological aspects of wildlife conservation. When I found RECaP I knew that it was the right place for me to pursue my doctoral work. My preparations were simple. I grabbed my MSU t-shirt and I was ready. Spartans Will!

Just a few hours later Susanna, Jackie, and I were on our way to Monduli district in the northern part of Tanzania where we would be staying for three months studying the community-level consequences of human-carnivore conflict. We were all quiet, lost in our own thoughts. Personally, I was trying to figure out how my summer would be; I was ready for the adventure, for challenges, and for supportive colleagues and friends. 

Summer field work
I spent most of this past summer conducting interviews among the Maasai community living along the Maasai Steppe of Northern Tanzania, a 22,000 km2 landscape occurring in and around Tarangire National Park, in collaboration with MSU’s Tanzania Partnership Program. The interviews aimed to understand the lived experiences of the Maasai people as they share their landscapes with lions, leopards, and spotted hyenas. These three carnivore species will hunt and kill people’s cattle, goats, sheep, and donkeys with some regularity. Affected people, in an interest to protect their families and livestock, will lash out and injure or kill these carnivores. Consequently, this is a region of the world that experiences some of the highest levels of human-carnivore conflict anywhere on earth. Via these interviews, I heard about success stories, where people effectively coexisted with carnivores, but I also heard about the challenges that are being faced by the Maasai communities. More specifically, I understood that certain villages had much higher rates of carnivore attack then similar villages just a few kilometers away. The reasons behind this variation remain elusive, but seemed to be attributable to distance from the village to national parks or number of interventions that have been placed in the area to minimize the conflicts. These dynamics will form the subject of my dissertation research. My interests are to work with communities to find better ways of engaging and solving human-carnivore conflict.  I am also interested in the social aspects of environmental justice. In other words, I am planning to devote my career to finding ways to help communities conserve their environment and at the same time ensure access to basic human rights.
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I had a variety of opportunities to learn about the local people and their customs while in the Maasai Steppe and I gained more experience than I ever expected. Those memories keep me focused on how to increase and invest my research efforts in the region and across Africa. As a social worker I want to bring my expertise into the RECaP Laboratory and find answers to those tough questions that involve people and their environment. 

Within our daily lives over the summer, Susanna and I were hitting the road, moving from one boma (a fenced enclosure where the local people protect their livestock from carnivore attack) to another, learning from the communities about human-wildlife conflict, and documenting what is working and what could be improved to ensure that both people and animals are benefiting from natural resources. While Susanna was doing those interviews as part of her Masters degree, I was taking copious notes that would inform Ph.D.  

Conducting interviews at bomas with Susanna was not the only opportunity I had to experience what life is like for people in rural Tanzanian villages. One day I was able to follow Jackie in her Ph.D. work observing livestock behavior in the grazing lands. I never thought that one day I would herd cows, but it happened! After walking for hours without knowing exactly when we were going to rest, we finally reached a shallow river where the cows got to drink water. I was tired, ready to go home, but the day was not over. I still remember that day as one of the greatest experiences I ever had. It was so tiring and yet, so much fun!

Jackie was measuring the cows’ behavior in villages with high and low attacks of lions. Walking with Jackie, her research assistant Nancy, and the young Maasai herders through the forest for the first time we exchanged ideas about life and other cultural issues. It was a fun and unique experience for me. It reminded me that as a social worker, it is important to understand tiny details while intervening with individuals, families, and communities, and that is exactly what she was doing.
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“Hey, Rose! We have ten minutes for lunch,” Jackie said. “Only ten?” I asked. “Yes! Probably less,” she replied. We had lunch while talking and laughing. Ten minutes later, the walking continued. We walked and noted measurements and made observations. As the sun went down we, along with the cows, reached the same place where we had started our journey. When I got home, I went straight to bed as I was tired but also tremendously gratified at the experience that I shared with Jackie. 

​Flashback of past research
Another scenario that I still remember was the day we went to the field and I saw kids walking in a small group of three, with white shirts and blue shorts and realized that they were primary school students. I tried to remember if I had seen a school. Yes, there had been a school, but we passed it a long time ago. I felt sad realizing that these kids were walking all the way to that school! By the time they’d get to school they would be very tired, and I was not sure if they would be able to focus and learn. I thought back to one of the projects that I had been involved in during my time as a Masters student. My role was to encourage communities to build pre- and primary schools near their homes, especially in those hard to reach communities. Maybe that could help here, I said to myself. I kept thinking about the lives of Maasai boys herding cows everyday with no obvious options for education. Given the way I value education, sometimes it is difficult for me to see children that do not have comparable opportunities to pursue formal education. All of these memories and experiences reminded me of the importance of appreciation. Since I have started my social work career, I have been thinking about how to create more opportunities in order to change the lives of individuals, families and whole communities for the better. I know it is time for me to be part of these changes and to help figure out the solutions to problems like these. As I watched the three children disappear into the dust behind me, I silently made a promise!

That was just one day among the many I spent with the Maasai communities. Spending time in that community was very crucial for the Ph.D. program that I have started. I am planning to spend the next five years in this community since my interests are to understand the social dimensions of human-carnivore conflict. Also, I am interested in learning community understanding about these problems. Discussions with the indigenous communities will not only provide the information that I need but also help me to network and build relationships.
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When I was there in the summer, the kindness of the people in these communities warmed my heart. I did not leave a home without having a snack, milk or tea. In Maasai culture, having guests in your home is a blessing. Despite the struggles and challenges of everyday life in this agro-pastoral families, I could still see their hope. As a social worker, I spent most of my time figuring out what was working and what was not. I learned new things every day from the community and how they interacted with the government. I still need more time to learn about human-carnivore conflict and that is one of the reasons I am planning to spend five years in the area so I can work towards a solution.
 
I had a good and productive summer.  Working with Susanna and Jackie was a tremendous experience. We learned so much from each other and supported one another in so many different ways. I believe that our collaborations will not end here as students, but that we will continue working together throughout our lives to continue to bring positive changes to our communities.
 
End of summer
I closed my eyes. When I opened them again, my uncle, who is like a father to me, entered my room. “Hey, ‘Dr. Kaihula,’ are you ready?” We both laughed, the smile stuck on my face and I replied, “Yes, Dad, I am.”  He prayed for me and looked into my eyes and said, “Go and do what you have to do, Rose.” He gave me a hug and helped me with my suitcase. Time for the airport, back to Michigan State University!
To be continued……!

There are many sayings I could borrow from my mother tongue (Luganda), but there is one phrase that really stands out in mind and perfectly fits with my current situation – “bwoba tonafa, tewevumanga nsi!” In English, this literally means “while you are still alive, never hate the world.”
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It occurs to me that this saying is apt for describing my journey towards conservation. A combination of perseverance and a series of fortunate events have led me to the exact spot where I sit and write this note: in my brand new office on the campus of Michigan State University (MSU) where I am now starting my Ph.D. in the Research on the Ecology of Carnivores and their Prey (RECaP) Laboratory. My journey is an improbable one and the spot where I sit now is a far cry from the spot where my journey began.

Where it all began
I was born and raised in central Uganda, in a large extended family. In the early days, my family mostly practiced peasant agriculture. Small scale farming was the primary source of income that supported my family. We lived in a village surrounded by natural places. When I was nine years old, my father moved us to Kampala, the capital city of Uganda. The backdrop of my home changed considerably, but I learned how to adjust to my more urban surroundings. However, we still made frequent trips to the gardens in my birth village to continue to farm so as to supplement my father’s income as a truck driver. My father drove tipper trucks, ferrying sand to construction sites around Kampala. My mother had an even more important job: she had to raise me and my siblings. I have three brothers and three sisters. One of the lessons that I have learned from my upbringing is to have a good sense of my roots, live within my limits, and be content with what life offers at given points in time. A lot of my self-confidence I owe to my mother who always encouraged me to work hard so that I could pursue higher education.

Growing up, I did not always want to be a conservation ecologist. Indeed, right up until the end of high school, there had been little opportunity for me to appreciate what conservation even meant or what careers might be available in that sector. That being said, I always had a passion for nature and natural places. During high school I fell in love with science. With relish, I studied all that science had to offer including Physics, Chemistry, Biology, and Mathematics. Initially, I believed that my dream was to be a laboratory-based scientist specialising in pharmaceuticals. In applications for joining university after my high school finals, I had Pharmacy beautifully set up at the top of my list of preferred courses for consideration for a government scholarship. In addition to your first choice, there were two additional spaces for second and third choice options. Without much thought, I filled in the spaces with Medical Radiography and, for good measure, Conservation Biology.

After filing the application in November 2008, I heard nothing for months. Presuming that my application had been unsuccessful, I resigned myself to considering other options to make a livelihood. This was a necessary consideration because without assistance, there would be no way for me to attend university. My father took me on, and started teaching me how to drive large cross-country cargo trucks. I would venture out with him between Uganda, Kenya, South Sudan, and the Congo.

Then in May 2009, the sun smiled on what would prove to be a very fateful morning. I receive an unexpected call from my friend Kenneth. “Kasozi” he called my name excitedly. “Ki ekiriwo (what’s up?),” I replied with intrigue. “Did you read the newspaper this morning?” “No” I responded rather anxiously, at this point my adrenaline started rising.  “Well, on page 3 it says that you – Herbert Kasozi - have been admitted to Makerere University on a full government scholarship!” I had a stunned moment of silence as I was comprehending what Kenneth had said. “Kasozi……Kasozi…Okyaliyo (“are you still there?”), he asked. Without replying I dropped the phone and ran out of the house. Sprinting, I headed straight to the news agents. Without even paying first, I grabbed the paper and thumbed to page 3. Kenneth was right, there was my name next to the phrase – “admitted to Makerere University on national merit with full Uganda government scholarship.”  This moment of incredible elation and pride was tinged with a deep sense of disappointment. The heading above my name was Conservation Biology. The ramifications hit me like a punch. I was not admitted to study Pharmacy. There was no way for me to change my area of subject and stay on the scholarship. I either accepted the scholarship, or attended Makerere University as a privately paid student. The twists and turns of life can be dizzying if you break them down in detail. But I can tell you this, had I not been rejected for the Pharmacy course I would have missed my passion in life.  

​Life at Makerere
At university in Uganda, many students from humble backgrounds like mine with no financial assistance are unable to maintain the payments for tuition, board, field trips, and other scholastic necessities. Thus, it is these students that commonly miss out on key activities, and lack the necessary resources to properly pursue their degrees. These realities diminish their productivity. It is always a tough experience, which translates into higher involuntary dropout rates from university. With a government scholarship, I was very lucky. I was able to immerse myself into all classes, field practicums, and lab sessions with no financial impediments. The Conservation Biology programme at Makerere included a couple of field research trips and internship opportunities where students had a chance to do fieldwork in places such as Kibale National Park (KNP) and Murchison Falls National Park (MFNP). These initiatives provided everything traditional classes in university buildings could never offer. The vastness and uniqueness of these places is something to behold. Growing up in a city, they were not like anything I had seen before, from the enormous trees in the rainforests of KNP to the beautiful rolling Borassus savannahs of MFNP, and the wildlife with in, it is only in such places that one can truly appreciate nature! For my case, working in KNP and MFNP in my first days not only captured my imagination but also drew my attention and life to conservation forever. Since those days, my love for understanding nature has always expanded rapidly. 

Into the Museum
During my undergraduate career, I was very fortunate to have been surrounded by mentors. One such individual is Dr. Robert Kityo. Dr. Kityo is a professor and curator of the Zoology Museum at Makerere University. All the time in his classes I never suspected that he would be integral to lighting my path towards advanced conservation biology experience nor that he would expand my field research potential for many years to come.
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Dr. Kityo provided me some of the toughest challenges in my academic career so far. Soon after I completed my undergraduate studies in May 2012, he took me out into the remote southern part of MFNP to start work on one of his projects. I had to quickly learn as we worked. On just my first day of work I learned how to set camera traps, retrieve the SD cards and reset the batteries, and use a GPS unit to navigate to camera trap locations. We would have a minimum of 6 cameras per array with a maximum general spacing of 1.5 km between them to be navigated by foot in the scorching sun, with tsetse flies biting constantly and very tall grass concealing buffalos, elephants, and potentially – lions, leopards, or spotted hyenas. After the training period, Dr. Kityo told me that I was on my own. I would now have to deploy and check camera traps independently. On my first day out alone, I almost shed a few tears and wanted to go home. The anxiety of what might be out there was crippling. But recognizing the importance of this opportunity for my personal growth, I resolved to continue. And I grew stronger by the day. Elephants and hippos became my neighbours, rather than my enemies. I learned that you always had to be vigilant, but a healthy respect of large mammal ecology was invaluable to keeping myself out of harm’s way. This opportunity well and truly introduced me to field work, to the life of a bush scientist, and gave me the stamina that I will forever benefit from in my career as an ecologist. During this time, I apparently proved myself to Dr. Kityo because subsequent opportunities to work on a diversity of projects were then presented to me. These exposed me to several people, and I got to acquire more field research skills such as small mammal, bird, vegetation, and fossil survey techniques as well as specimen preparation. Ultimately, it was my performance during these experiences that let to Dr. Kityo offering me a M.S. position in the Zoology Museum at Makerere in mid-2014.

Connecting with RECaP
Two years ago, I could not have imagined I would be starting a PhD in the USA right now. Connecting with the RECaP lab was yet another fortunate chance event in my life. I again realise the value of maintaining friendships with the incredible people I have been lucky to meet in my journey in conservation. Tutilo Mudumba, a current PhD student in the RECaP lab, and a long-time friend whom I first worked with in Murchison Falls NP in 2011, introduced me to Dr. Robert Montgomery in February 2016.
An email correspondence, initiated by Tutilo started it all:
​
“Herbert, I am introducing you to my mentor and Ph.D. Advisor, Dr. Robert Montgomery of Michigan State University. I have briefly talked to him about your potential to excel and how you came to start working with me. I am sure when we next come to Kampala in May, Dr. will get to meet you in person and get introduced to Dr. Robert Kityo, your major advisor.”

And what a pleasing response:

“Hello Herbert,
 
   And thank you Tutilo for making this connection. Tutilo has shared with me much about your research program and how you got your start. I am excited to hear more. As Tutilo outlines, it would be excellent to make the acquaintance of yourself and your supervisor Dr. Kityo. when I am in Uganda in May. In the meantime, don't hesitate to let me know if you need anything.
 
   Siiba bulungi,
 
     Bob”

Come May 2016, I got to meet Dr. Montgomery! We had an excellent meeting with him, Tutilo, Dr. Kityo, Dr. Sande (Head of Zoology at Makerere) and Sophia. I must admit, before the meeting, I spent the entire night reading about giraffes, modelling, and large mammal ecology – I was anxious to make an impression at what would be the stage for my next move!

After the meeting we set out for MFNP the following day, and I had my first one on one interview with Dr. Montgomery at the Paraa lodge. It was a moment of good exchanges and we got to know each other better.   

Since that meeting, Dr. Montgomery has been instrumental in establishing funding and a position for me to work and study as a PhD student in the RECaP lab at Michigan State University (MSU).  My position in RECaP would not be possible without the generosity of Mr. Gerald Kutchey and Ms. Kathryn Synder. Jerry and Kathryn are two individuals that have taken an interest in me and have put me in a position to achieve my ultimate dream: to become a professor of wildlife ecology. It is their support that has made this possible. They are the reason why I boarded a plane in Entebbe, Uganda – the first time that I had ever stepped foot onto a 747 – bound for the prestigious Michigan State University. I am indebted to Jerry and Kathryn and live every day honouring their generosity with my hard work.    

Reviewing my journey into conservation, I cannot say that the last 10 years have been easy. I have faced very many challenges to be standing here today, but my early passion for science and my ever-expanding love for conservation has provided me with more than enough fuel to persevere in adversity, and to take each opportunity as it has arisen. I am now excited and eager to begin a new chapter of my life through starting my PhD at RECaP.

Starting a new chapter
I am coming to RECaP with wide ranging interests. I have been lucky to have been exposed to quite a lot of field research in different areas and sites in East Africa. From mammals, birds, amphibians, plants, and fossils, I feel set to conduct research on anything. I feel I have allowed myself enough time to explore and I am more than convinced that giraffe ecology and conservation is where I will be happiest for the next phase of my academic and research life. My time in RECaP will be spent investigating different aspects on the ecology and conservation Rothschild giraffe in Uganda. The giraffe has always fascinated me! From its strange and odd shape, agility, demeanour, tranquillity, and unbelievable strength I find the giraffe to be one of the most beautiful animals. Motivated by this passion, and the fact that not much work has been conducted on this majestic creature, the time is now for me to join the pioneers of the giraffe research world.   

​In the summer of 2017, I officially started my tenure as a Ph.D. student in the RECaP lab. I was involved in a range of RECaP’s research activities in MFNP with an excellent team of researchers. I was introduced to new field research techniques in the large mammal arena and got chance to hone and complement my research skill set to be ready for my own project. Over the next academic year, I am tasked with a grand challenge of developing and framing my own research questions into something relevant to biodiversity conservation in Uganda and over the world. As Dr. Montgomery always asks me to, I embrace the challenge and am ready to move.

Going international
Bold and braced, I made the big move! On the day of my flight from Entebbe, Uganda to Detroit, Michigan via Amsterdam, I had my last lunch with my mum and my siblings. Everyone was simultaneously saddened by my departure and very excited to see me leaving for America. As the eldest in my family, I play an integral role in the functioning of my household. I look after my siblings, make sure that my mum is secure, and work hard to ensure that everyone is taken care of. Before leaving, I wondered how I would be able to do this from the States. It is however, reassuring that in the end I will return to my life at home as it is my dream to be a professor of wildlife ecology at Makerere University. My life-long dream has always been to make a contribution to Uganda. It seems cruel that in order to achieve this dream of being a difference-maker in Uganda, I have to leave my home. But that is what it takes given that, at this moment, there is no Ph.D.-level training in wildlife conservation in my country or even the East African region, more broadly. Thus, I have to leave my home to join RECaP at MSU so that in 5 years-time I will be in a position to become a professor at Makerere. It is my hope that my family will get used to my absence, but most of all I am happy to have departed with their blessings.
​
Boarding that plane to come to the states at Entebbe International Airport, I was intimidated by the journey. I was wondering and scared of what my experience was going to be like. The nine months I will spend in East Lansing (before I return to Uganda for summer field work) is going to be the longest time I will spend away from home, and in itself one of the biggest challenges to undertaking the PhD. I always have to tell (and remind) myself what working with RECaP entails - lots of hard and tough work requiring many days away from home, either in the bush in MFNP or on the plane to East Lansing and other international destinations around the world.

Getting into life in East Lansing
Landing into Detroit Wayne International Airport, I was already intimidated about the idea of landing on US soil. All my time in the queue for the last interview with the immigration officers was spent in anticipation, with nothing to expect as anything could happen. I managed to pass that as well! Reality set in directly thereafter. I would be leaving for the states with an understanding of the place that was only informed by TV and movies. With everything different from home, my whole system had to adjust. Dr. Montgomery’s family and my roommate Jorem (a Ugandan Ph.D. student that has been at MSU for three years) have greatly helped my transition, I commend them for a tremendous job helping me settle in. As much as I am anxious to see how well I will take to an American life style, I embrace the challenge and ready to go! 

​When I became a PhD student last fall in the RECaP Laboratory at Michigan State University, I anticipated that I would soon be filling many roles – writer, statistician, apprentice, philosopher. Little did I know, I would also be learning the skills to become a cow herder.
 
But this past summer in rural Tanzania, that’s exactly what I did. 

​Every day my assistant Nancy Felix and I would get incredulous looks from the villagers on the Maasai Steppe and the repeated demanding question: “YOU herd cows?”
 
“Well, actually, ninautafiti ng’ombe,” I’d reply in my broken, basic Swahili – “I am studying the cows.” Nancy, who is a native Tanzanian, helped me to communicate more complicated sentences as we explained our research efforts in the region to every surprised cattle owner we met.
 
Learning about cattle and the local herding strategies was a fundamental component of the first field season of my Ph.D. research. I spent the summer investigating whether cows have retained any anti-predator behaviors from their wild relatives. Cows on the Maasai Steppe are regularly killed by hyenas, leopards, and lions. They are hunted at night when they are organized in bomas (traditional thornbush livestock corrals) or during the day when they are being grazed in the fields. It is those grazing landscapes that I am most interested in. Thanks to our collaboration with Dr. Bernard Kissui of the Tarangire Lion Project, we have records of depredation (the act of carnivores killing livestock) that date back to 2004. From that research I can tell you which villages have a high depredation risk and which villages have a low depredation risk. Thus, I have been studying the anti-predator behavior of cows from villages across these high and low risk classifications. If cows are responding to depredation risk by being more vigilant, then it means that they spend less time eating and their value to the local people declines. On the other hand, if cows do not exhibit any anti-predator behavior, then they may be sitting ducks for opportunistic carnivores. I would like to know if spatial depredation risk causes cows to change their behaviors. So I spent my days following Maasai herdsmen across the community grazing lands, observing cattle, and collecting data that will help us to better understand carnivore-livestock interactions and mitigate conflict. The applied dimensions of my research are instrumental given that conflict between people and carnivores is extremely high in this region. All of that being said: to most people my research looked just like I was herding cows. And although for three straight months I could be found alongside the herds from sunup to sundown, I have only just begun to learn what it actually means to be a herdsman in rural Tanzania.
 
First, the title of herdsman is a bit of a misnomer. Typically, those entrusted with the protection of the herds are actually young boys, ages six to 15 or so, and sometimes even younger. Armed with a stick and dressed in lengths of cloth called shukas and sandles made out of old tires, these boys lead their families’ most precious possessions to pasture. In search of nutritious grasses and fresh water, they may travel 20 km a day or more without any food or drink for themselves. Despite their young age and these extreme conditions, it’s exceptionally unusual to hear a herdsman complain. Herding isn’t just a job; it’s their entire way of life. 

​During one very hot day in the field, Nancy and I sat for a moment in the shade of a thorn bush with a young herdsman we were following. Nancy asked him if he went to school and when his answer was no, she inquired as to why.
 
“Because,” he replied, matter-of-factly. “I have to herd these cows until I die.”
 
The boy was about ten years old.
 
Although this may seem like a cruel existence to those accustomed to life in the ‘West,’ the Maasai and other pastoralist tribes have been passing down this tradition to their children for thousands of years. And it doesn’t seem to stop these kids from being kids.
 
On that same day, I watched our herdsman catch butterflies with a shuka, practice hopping on one foot and jumping over thorn bushes, and crouch in the tall grass pretending to be a hyena. Later, when I was sweaty and exhausted from the long day, he was attempting to chase down a lone impala. Where he got the energy, I can’t say. But his imagination and verve had both Nancy and I laughing which helped to keep our spirits high despite the extreme heat and dust.
 
Although my experimental design focuses on studying the behavior of cows, some of the most interesting behavioral observations that Nancy and I made were not of the cows, but of the kids. Sometimes these observations were amusing like the playful games of our little “hyena” or the time I watched a herdsman find a piece of bent metal which he proceeded to wear on his head for the rest of the day. Other times these observations weighed heavier on my mind and were at once sobering and humbling. I will not quickly forget the day I saw a herder laying on his belly in the dirt of a dry river bed, his lower half sticking out of a hole that had been dug in the ground. Nearly upside down, he was slurping muddy water from the bottom. Knowing they will receive little milk and no water at home, these boys’ creativity manifests itself more as resourcefulness than imagination. Their strength and resilience was something I had never seen before.
 
At times like these I was glad when our presence could offer a small distraction from the hardships the herders experience daily. As much as we were captivated by them, they too loved watching us. Having never experienced much beyond their own grazing lands, their curiosity was amplified by many of our unfamiliar behaviors and belongings. They enjoyed watching us record data on our field tablet and I could easily bring a smile to their faces by letting them test out our stopwatch. A few cellphone “selfies” could make any rough day brighter. And above all else, the boys loved Nancy’s rangefinder. We used the rangefinder to calculate distance from our focal cow to the nearest vegetation that had enough structure (i.e., height and density) to potentially conceal the presence of an attacking carnivore. The herdsmen would shout and crowd around for a chance to look through the lens to determine the distance of objects.

​On one occasion we met a particularly inquisitive young herder of about 13. He watched intensely as we used each piece of equipment and had many thoughtful questions. We learned that he had gone to school through sixth grade before his father pulled him out to tend the cows instead. In his short stint as a student he even learned a bit of English and showed off to us by pronouncing “elephant” and “lion.” As we worked, he followed us and we taught each other more animal names in each of our first languages.
 
“Calf.”
 
“Ndama.”
 
“Loho.”
 
Then there were times when we couldn’t converse with the herdsmen at all. If a child spoke Swahili we knew he had received some education. However, we met many young people who only spoke the Maasai language, Maa. This meant that they had never gone to school and likely never will.
 
It may seem strange, but I came to enjoy the silence of those particular days. My Swahili is very limited and although I usually could understand the subject of conversations, I wasn’t able keep up fast enough to participate much. But on days when there could be no spoken words between researchers and herders, we had to rely on other means of communication.  
 
One chilly morning we met with a cattle owner, explained the purpose of our study, and asked for permission to follow his herd for the day. He agreed and sent us off with the herders, his son and nephew, who were probably eight and ten years old, and about 120 cows.
 
As we headed away from the boma we tried to get to know the boys we would be spending the next ten hours with.
 
“Jina lako ni nani? –What is your name?”
 
…
 
“Unaitwa nani? –What are you called?”
 
…
 
It was going to be a quiet day.
 
In the life of a herder however, quiet does not mean boring. Nancy and I came to think of each day as a new adventure. And that day was no exception. The further we got from the boma, the higher the elevation became, until we realized we were heading right up a mountain. The vegetation was incredibly thick and thorny, the ground littered with rough stones that threatened our footing with every step. It became almost impossible to keep our eyes on the cow we were observing and we were forced to concentrate on simply climbing safely to the top. The boys were adept at this—their tiny bodies darting nimbly under shrubs, their bare legs already hardened from years in the bush. We, however, seemed to snag ourselves on every thorn we encountered, sliding and falling on loose rocks. When the younger boy noticed my struggles, he came silently to my side and started to lead me through the brambles. He held branches back for me to pass through and if I chose a poor path, he took my hand and guided me on a safer course.
 
Although I was making far better progress under the direction of my new field guide, I still managed to snag my finger on a sharp plant. As he saw the blood drip from my finger, he gently took it in both of his hands and blew softly on the cut to sooth the pain.
 
I stood in awe of this young boy who understood nothing of my strange manners or my purpose for being there that day. Without any hesitation he had taken me under his little wing and attempted to assist and nurture me. He spoke compassion without any words at all. 

​I first went to Tanzania with a simple list of objectives and specific information to collect about behaviors and interactions on the grazing lands. However, I have since discovered that there is much more to this story than can be recorded on a data sheet. In my first field season as a PhD student I have learned more than I ever expected. This past summer, the student became the herder, and the herder the teacher. 

​I sit on the floor of my apartment in Lansing, Michigan, looking over my packed bags. Two full suitcases, a carry-on, and a backpack. Surely I must be ready now. I scan my closet then check and recheck a few important items.
 
GPS, maps, field guides... Journal. I’ll be bringing the same journal I took to East Africa when I studied abroad seven years ago. There are still many blank pages and it just feels right to pick up where I left off. I open it to the first page.
 
7 September 2010 – Day 1
“My first night in Tanzania… wow. It’s been such a long journey… There is joy in my heart – a pounding, soaring, screaming joy – and at the same time a calm, centered, serene kind of joy… It was like coming home to a family I had never met, to a place where I belonged yet had never been.”
 
I close my eyes and remember that feeling. I remember driving into our camp at the edge of the small Tanzanian village of Rhotia. The other students and I were the inaugural group of American students lucky enough to be selected to participate in the School for Field Studies’ (SFS) first year of wildlife management training in Tanzania. I can see the faces of our neighbors, their smiles seeming to glow with warmth. These neighbors were the first to welcome us, they shook our hands, took us into their arms in traditional East African embraces. They made us feel as though we were not strangers, but rather relatives returning home after a long stay abroad. I vividly remember feeling as though the joy would literally burst from my body. I could have cried then but I didn’t. Just two weeks later however, I could no longer hold back those tears of joy.
 
On that day I had spent hours driving around Tarangire National Park. Along with my field mates, I was conducting habitat assessments and wildlife counts in the region. I visited the research station of the Tarangire Lion Project, saw the radio collars waiting to be attached to lions in the prides that we studied, and learned about all of the research that was being conducted in the park by my professor and his team. At mid-day I sat at an overlook, taking in the vast, open landscape of Tarangire, thinking that it seemed extraordinary somehow, prehistoric, like an illusion in time. The land was dry and golden, with green and brown trees poking up everywhere. To one side, a river zigzagged into the distance. There were elephants walking between the trees, babies staying close at the heels of their mothers. I was truly overwhelmed by the infinite beauty of Tanzania, its history and wisdom, and the juxtaposition of richness and harshness. I was finally seeing it with my own eyes the way I dreamed I would. For me, this wasn’t a holiday or a trip I had taken on a whim. It wasn’t a typical study abroad experience, the cost of which I simply charged to my parents. No, this was the realization of a dream that began when I was young, one that I had worked to achieve for years, and that I finally had the opportunity to engineer as an undergraduate at the Pennsylvania State University (PSU).
 
I first found out about this study abroad program as a sophomore at PSU. Centered on the instruction of practical field studies for wildlife management, conservation, and community engagement, I recognized immediately that this opportunity was perfectly suited for me. I had dreamed of studying wildlife in Africa since I was a little girl and that dream had developed into the clear career goal I realized as a young adult. Then located at an SFS center in Kenya, this program would give me the chance to really experience life in Africa, from tent camping out in the bush, to presenting my own research findings to local wildlife managers and stakeholders. I put together the strongest application I could and applied as quickly as possible. Elation set in when I received an email that I had been accepted into the program. The feeling was only temporary though, because a barrier had been put directly in my path by the University’s Financial Aid Office. I was informed that my financial aid package could not be attributed to the SFS program and instead I, and any other PSU student interested in attending, would need to pay out of pocket for the expenses. There was no chance of this, however, as my pockets were completely empty. Growing up in a poor family, it had always been clear to me that if I wanted to attend college I would be paying for the privilege on my own. And when the news from the Financial Aid Office came through I was already struggling to make ends meet irrespective of the tuition, program fees, and plane ticket costs associated with a study abroad. I was scanning pages out of classmates’ textbooks because I couldn’t afford my own, borrowing from my friends just to pay my rent, and spending holidays alone to save on gas money while others were traveling or heading home. The system was willing me to quit, to abandon my ambitious dream and the prospect of international field research experience. I was devastated, but I chose not to give up. For the next year and a half, I negotiated with the Financial Aid and Global Programs offices. I diligently worked to fill in every piece of paperwork and to address every question that they asked of me. I struck negotiations between PSU and SFS and finally, finally I was successful! Not only did I secure enough money for myself but I also convinced PSU to amend their polices, opening the door for other qualified, disadvantaged students to enroll in this program. Since that time, dozens of PSU students have benefited from my efforts and been able to apply their financial aid packages to SFS study abroad programs around the world. Additionally, the East African SFS program had evolved during that time to become a multi-country experience. Not only would I study and conduct research in Kenya, but I would also have the honor to be in the first student cohort at the new Tanzanian location as well, establishing the connections  that would lay the groundwork for the success of future groups. This felt like a personal reward for my commitment and I could not have asked for more.
 
I was so proud of that achievement, proud of myself for not giving up on my dream despite how impossible it may have seemed back then. And as I sat looking over the unimaginably brilliant landscape of Tarangire that day, all of it hit me – the hurt and disappointment, the fight, and the accomplishment. I cried because I had finally made it. I cried because it was just so damned beautiful!

​And now, sorting the last of my field gear on the wooden floor of my apartment and thumbing through my old notebook, I can picture that landscape again, and so many others I came to know during my time in Africa. The memories of these beautiful places seem to stack up like snapshots, or the very pages of this journal. I flip back to the last entry, to see where I left off.
 
12 December 2010 – Day 97
“I am sitting in Newark airport. I have no sense of time right now… Yesterday I was looking out at zebras and wildebeests, and today I am eating McDonalds under Christmas lights. I’m not sure how it will feel to be ‘home.' Weird.”
 
I had been right. It was strange to be back in the U.S. after months in Africa. I was disconcerted in the most common of places. I no longer understood why the grocery store stocked a hundred different flavors of yogurt. I felt personally offended when I saw someone wasting water. Reintegrating into my friendship group was also harder than I thought. I was reluctant to share stories of my experience for fear that it would distance me even farther from those I used to be familiar with. I had grown so connected to that world, especially Tanzania and its people, I had no desire to be anywhere else. I had never felt more at home anywhere than I did there and now. With my study abroad credits completing my college degree, I was on my own and had no actual home to return to. I became physically and mentally a nomad. Over the next six years, I would live and work in five different states and two countries, always longing for that far off place that was closest to my heart.
 
Little did I know then that seven years later, I would be returning to that exact location, to initiate my own research efforts studying lion and cattle interactions in the villages surrounding Tarangire National Park. I am now a University Distinguished and National Science Foundation Graduate Research Fellow at Michigan State University. I am a first-year Ph.D. student in the Research on the Ecology of Carnivores and their Prey Laboratory (RECaP). In RECaP, we are a large vibrant community with half of the 16-person team being American and the other half coming to MSU from East Africa. It’s amazing to be surrounded by so many like-minded, passionate people, whom I am lucky to call my friends and colleagues. I’ve definitely found happiness here and a new sense of belonging. I love spending every day studying the things that interest me most and preparing to conduct my field research. This is my place now, the hub from which I will continue to reach for my goals. This is my launch point to return to Tanzania.
 
I try to stop daydreaming and focus on the task at hand. I can’t get to where I’m going if I don’t pack these bags. I shuffle around a few things in my carry-on, making sure to throw in the last essential items.
 
Malaria pills, vaccination forms, research permits... Passport. Unlike the journal, this is not the same one as before. Fresh new pages. New name. Already distracted by my thoughts, I let myself take a look at the first page. There is my face and everything the world is supposed to know about me.
 
Place of birth: PENNSYLVANIA. U.S.A.
 
That was my place once. I’ve left it behind now but it will forever be a part of what defines me. It will always be there in big bold letters on my passport and I will need to recount that fact on every immigration form that I fill out. I think about Pennsylvania, the small run-down part of Pittsburgh where I grew up, and that house on the hill that represented “home.” The one with the holes punched through the walls. The one with the garbage bags full of empty beer cans stacked in the basement. I had struggled even before I was on my own in college. I had been searching for a refuge even before I was inspired by Tanzania.
 
The backdrop of my youth was a sky of smog clouds erupting from the once-successful steel mill that characterized my town. I hung out with my friends on huge piles of coal and rode my bike along the cracked streets, even at night, just to avoid being at home. I had to put several blocks between me and that house before I could no longer hear my father yelling. He was always drunk and always angry, attacking whichever one of us was closest at hand. It didn’t matter that my mom worked full time in addition to taking care of the house and cooking dinner every night. It didn’t matter that both my brother and I somehow managed to stay focused and qualify for the top of our classes. None of that mattered. My father needed to show that he was in control and to ensure that we felt powerless. He needed to tell us over and over again how we couldn’t do anything right, how we didn’t listen, how we were selfish, and how we should be punished. One night when I was 15, my father, fueled by profuse amounts of Genesee, wrapped his hands around my brother’s throat in a fit of rage. Backed into a corner, this indelible memory represents for me the first time that I came to understand that I wasn’t powerless. Trembling I picked up our family phone and dialed 911. Whispering into the phone I communicated the state of my household. Knowing full well the consequences of my actions, I locked myself in the bedroom. Through the window streamed red and blue lights and the sounds of men arguing, car doors opening and slamming. I have not seen nor communicated with my father in the 14 years since. After that night our house became a place I was no longer afraid to return to. Although we were finally a functional family of three, we all shared the same desire to leave that place.

​I can’t keep these memories from flooding my mind as I stare down at the location printed on my passport. I have tried, as much as I can, to put my past in the past. And yet I will always carry this story with me. Pittsburgh is a part of me, my place of birth. However, I truly became myself somewhere else along the way.
 
Surname: BECK. Given names: JACALYN MARA.
 
The people I knew in Pennsylvania, those I met in Africa on my first trip, many friends from my past – all called me by a different name. Until two years ago I was Jacalyn Marie Jeffery. Although my father was out of my life, I still bore his last name. It disgusted me to see it, to spell it out to people on the phone, to think that I would one day be published as a scientist under that label. So it was time for me to take control again, this time for good, to coin my own identity. I was inspired by my mother, her strength and character, and the deep connection she had had with her own mother. I decided to adopt her family name, Beck, and eventually when the change was official it felt so natural for me. The more complex decision related to my middle name. I contemplated who I saw myself to be, and how I wanted to present myself to the world with my new title. I was reminded of when I first returned from Tanzania and how hard it was to share the depth of my experiences with others, to explain how I had changed and yet how I felt more wholly myself. I thought of those landscapes that so moved me – the Serengeti, and Tsavo, Chyulu, Manyara, Tarangire, and the Mara, from which I would ultimately draw my identifying inspiration – and how I wanted to be open and visible, to show the geography of my heart, and to never again fear being known. Thus, with the change of one more syllable, from Marie to Mara, I made my name my own.
 
To see my name in writing now is difficult to describe. It makes me feel proud and capable, satisfied but determined to achieve so much more. Now my name can be found on lists of fellowship awardees and as a coauthor on several publications. I find this new reality both empowering and humbling. I have set my own standard, and I must live up to it. My name represents for me a constant reminder to try always to be my best self, to not be afraid or intimidated, and to never give in or give up. My name is a symbol of my evolution, of not only all I have endured and overcome, but of the joys I have realized and choose to hold close. When I see my name in print, I see a future that is always mine to create, a place of my choosing. I see the beautiful lands where I will continue to chase my wildest dreams.
 
In every single way I have been preparing for this trip. I have made myself for this, and I am ready now.
 
I tuck my passport into a pocket, take one last look around my closet, then finally zip up my last bag. That’s everything. This is what I take with me. Time to go home.  

I have always had a passion for the conservation of natural resources. For me, this passion stems from an intrinsic connection that I feel with the natural world. I have developed this connection via experiences such as hunting, fishing, and hiking. Growing up in Michigan and Wisconsin, public lands were plentiful and so I had many opportunities to enjoy the outdoors. Via my interaction with nature, I began to understand the many complex social and political issues that stand in the way of wildlife conservation goals. This is especially true when examining the role that humans play in urban sprawl, human-carnivore conflict, and un-sustainable resource extraction. These are the challenges, though complicated and demanding, that excite and encourage me, and I could not imagine pursuing a career in any other discipline. Thus, I am devoting my life to the future conservation and preservation of wildlife and natural landscapes. To further my commitment to this field, I decided to pursue my undergraduate education at a university that would provide me with opportunities to conduct research on an international scale. For this reason, as well as so many others, I chose Michigan State University (MSU). As ‘The Pioneer Land-Grant University,’ one of the primary missions of MSU is to derive practical solutions through advances in science and technology. A university with this ethos is an ideal place to study how to formulate feasible conservation initiatives. I chose to couple my major in Fisheries and Wildlife with Public Policy after noticing a troubling trend in the human dimensions of wildlife conservation: there is a major disconnect between policymaking and scientific research. In the future, I aspire to be a force for change in bridging the gap between these two essential components of effective conservation action. Since my arrival at MSU last fall, I have already made progress in my pursuit of effecting change of this type. I have done so by forging connections, establishing diverse collaborations, and assessing the transdisciplinary nature of my undergraduate learning experiences. 

​Spartans Will Connect

​I truly believe that the sheer number of connections that I have made in the first year of my undergraduate experience has provided me with a strong foundation for my future career. The old adage: ‘It is not just what you know, it’s also who you know’ rings true as I watch my professors and mentors utilize their professional networks every day. This leads to numerous accolades and publications, but these are no more important than the personal relationships that are developed along the way.
 
One of the biggest factors that brought me to MSU was the existence of the Social Science Scholars Program, directed by Dr. John Waller. This cohort has been designed to create “dynamic leaders, reasoned thinkers, and proud ambassadors of MSU,” connecting selected topics in the social sciences that are of the utmost importance to our global society. Topics of study range from political theory to sociology, allowing us to become well-rounded scholars in evaluating the ways in which people interact with others and the world around them. Many of the topics we cover are directly relevant to my work and aspirations. As a cohort, we consider why some conservation efforts succeed while others fail; why there are such high rates of climate change denialism despite the unequivocal nature of these scientific findings; and how governments can most effectively combat unsustainable common-pool resource use and environmental pollution, for example.
 
The Social Science Scholars Program also helps its members to connect students with a wide variety of resources around campus and the East Lansing community. In particular, Scholars are provided with three different mentors to serve a variety of roles in their campus lives: (1) academic researchers, (2) community members, and (3) other students. While pursuing the Scholars Program I also work as an undergraduate researcher in the Research on the Ecology of Carnivores and their Prey (RECaP) Laboratory. My work in RECaP is co-sponsored by the Social Science Scholars Program. In this capacity, Dr. Robert Montgomery – Director of RECaP - serves as a link to the professional community in the field of wildlife conservation. The Social Science Scholars Program also connects me to opportunities for engagement in the broader East Lansing community. For instance, Mr. Charles Dobis, a 1971 alumni of MSU and formal mentor of mine, has made himself available for meetings and lunches, which have been a nice way to explore the off-campus community. I also receive advice and support from Scholars in their junior year. My student mentor, Elias Kokaly, has greatly helped me navigate campus life. Each of these connections has played an integral role in my time here at MSU and all three will, I hope, continue to be important friends and mentors. 

Moreover, as a member of the RECaP laboratory, I have been able to take advantage of the large network that Dr. Montgomery and my other collaborators have created over their years of experience. I remember vividly at my very first lab meeting, Dr. Montgomery said, “look around you, and look closely, because the people in this room will be your colleagues for life.” From the production of professional manuscripts to playing soccer on the weekend, many individuals of the RECaP lab have become close friends, as well as colleagues. These connections have been highly beneficial professionally as well; I have been able to co-author a paper in collaboration with researchers from 3 different countries, 2 different states, and 5 colleges here at MSU. To be able to meet and work with these experts from a wide range of fields has been a hallmark of my college experience thus far. Also on the same day that I met Dr. Montgomery, I was appointed to work under Ph. D. candidate Steven Gray, who has been one of my greatest connections here at MSU. Steve’s experience in research and academia have been invaluable to me in my pursuit of my first publications. As an academic purebred (or inbred, depending on who you talk to!), Steve will have earned all three of his professional degrees from Michigan State by the time he finishes his doctorate, thus he also has a great knowledge of the area. He has been a fabulous link to the professional community, to campus, and to my lab mates in RECaP, and he is an integral part of my undergraduate research career. I look forward to continuing my work with Steve and, eventually, Dr. Gray long into the future.
 
In academia, a broad professional network is critical to success. Whether ‘success’ is defined by the number of papers or books you publish or your ability to collaborate effectively with your colleagues, most researchers that I have encountered are willing to accept that building relationships with people is integral to the modern research process. I would argue that this is especially critical for undergraduates, not only as a basis for our professional achievements, but for our personal enjoyment over the four years of our time at a university. While the connections that I have made will be important into the future, their current function is much more important: making MSU feel like home. Most of my life has been spent in mid-Michigan growing up in Mt. Pleasant, so the geography of East Lansing is familiar to me. When I moved back to Michigan for school after seven years living in Wisconsin, the landscape reminded me of the hours and hours that I spent in the woods behind our house in Isabella County. The setting was (and is) perfect, but the people that I have met here have made East Lansing the special place that it is for so many of us.
 
The connections with people that I see daily give me a place in a campus of over 55,000 people. Being restricted to a dorm, without a vehicle or a house nearby can be difficult for incoming freshman and I can no longer do many of the things I took for granted last year when I was a senior in high school. So the connections that I have established with accomplished faculty, staff, and students offer an escape from the hustle and bustle of one of the nation’s largest university campuses. The best example of this is my opportunity to go duck hunting with one of my professors! You could imagine how difficult this could be without a car, decoys, a boat, or land access around East Lansing, but Dr. Hayes, of the Department of Fisheries & Wildlife, was able to help me accomplish this. While we were not successful on the morning we went out, we were able to have detailed conversations on many current events in natural resource conservation. If nothing else, it was an excellent chance to connect with a professor who has been one of my best mentors at MSU, while also doing something that I love to do. These numerous connections have allowed me to be successful professionally in undergraduate research, but it is important to recognize how much they have enabled me to grow personally as well.
 
 
Spartans Will Collaborate
           
Collaboration at MSU takes a variety of forms and includes a breadth of interdisciplinary connections. Since coming to State, I have been able to work with a dynamic and diverse group of people, varying in age, gender, ethnicity, national origin and numerous other demographics. These partnerships have been most prevalent within the RECaP lab and throughout multiple colleges within and outside of MSU.
 
The RECaP lab is designed to collaboratively conduct research on a wide range of carnivores occurring worldwide. Given this primary goal, RECaPivores (the collective name selected by our lab) hail from a wide variety of backgrounds to effectively create blended student cohorts. In this way, RECaP is helping to train the conservation leaders of tomorrow. I have had the chance to work with and become friends with people like Tutilo, Rose, Njambi, and Arthur, all of whom provide a unique perspective on a variety of complex conservation issues. Our lab members are not only diverse in ethnic background, but also in education. The RECaP lab is made up of students of all levels of education. Each undergraduate in the lab is paired with a graduate student to collaboratively produce scientific manuscripts. These pairings are then complemented by professors and graduate researchers around the world, from Tanzania to Montana in the case of my first publication. Working with these professors, much like working alongside my lab mates, provides a variety of new mindsets from which to attack a problem.
 
These examples of collaboration over the course of my time in undergraduate research here at MSU have helped me to strengthen my connections both globally, notably in East Africa, and with a range of departments and colleges on campus. This, in turn, has helped me to become better adapted to the demands of integrating the fields represented by my two respective majors. 

Spartans Will Transcend their Fields
 
Throughout my time at MSU, the research that I have conducted always seems to come back to one key word: interdisciplinary. Everyone I have worked with knows that it is important and many accept that we should be “more interdisciplinary” in our research, but very few seem to define it, let alone pursue it.
 
One of the most critical challenges facing conservation is a dearth of strong and passionate champions who can effectively transcend their field to reach wider audiences; leaders who can effect change in the political arena. I hope to do just that. Conservationists like Theodore Roosevelt have been key, yet it is important to remember that these leaders were not only politicians, but also professors, notably Aldo Leopold, and authors like John Muir. These individuals had a passion for the land, but also a conviction to ensure that it would be protected. Through writings, speeches, and town-hall meetings, such conservationists spread their message to those outside of the field to engage and activate constituencies. While this change is not always seen immediately in budgets or year-end reports, it is found in an altered mindset: one that revokes humanity’s “Abrahamic view” of the landscape, as coined by Leopold. This shift in mindset serves to initiate change at a higher level: funding, education, and outreach through pro-conservation legislation. It is so common to see wildlife ecologists today who are consumed by their work and seem to stay in academia. We have a desperate need for people like Aldo, Teddy, John, and so many others who were prepared to step beyond a cloistered university world in order to engage and ultimately to benefit the public. Champions of both fields are the key to making wildlife management a public priority and therefore a part of my generation’s legacy.
 
My work thus far has involved investigating how effective conservation can be achieved in modern-day East Africa. This study has entailed conducting research on how to develop public policy to promote wildlife conservation. My efforts have a focus on areas experiencing a severe decline in charismatic megafauna (e.g. lions, elephants, etc.), specifically the Massai Steppe, a region of Northern Tanzania and Southern Kenya. I am currently examining and assessing this in what is known as the “Research Implementation Gap:” the separation between robust scientific discovery and policies that are in accordance with that knowledge. Within RECaP, we explore this topic in the context of human-carnivore conflict research, but it can be observed in a variety of contentious issues in history, including the harms of smoking and global warming. For the future conservation and preservation of species endemic to this region of the world, it is critical that researchers develop approaches to overcome this gap.

In the future, I would like to act as a conduit between researchers and policymakers to facilitate discussion and collaboration, possibly as a lobbyist or political advocate. From my experience this year, I have begun to analyze the divides that exist between the research and policy hemispheres. Through the presentation of this scientific research, I hope to effect a change on the fields of Political Science and Fisheries and Wildlife Conservation so that these fields can grow closer to one another. Through my next three years at MSU, and far into the future, I look forward to being someone who transcends both fields to become a more useful and effective conservationist and a better-informed policy maker.
 
None of this would have been possible if it was not for the support of my mentors in the RECaP Laboratory, the Social Science Scholars program, and the generous sponsorship of a Provost Undergraduate Research Initiative Grant. I am very grateful for all of these opportunities. Being involved with undergraduate research has made me more connected to MSU, encouraged me to collaborate across disciplines, and has shown me the true importance of transcending the fields of natural resource conservation and public policy. Who will continue the tradition of a vibrant undergraduate research experience? Spartans Will. 

“Will I really fit in? Will I find a place that I can truly belong, and actually be myself?” These were among my greatest worries when crossing the Atlantic on a Delta aircraft headed for Michigan. All I knew of this great land of the free (America) was what I had picked up on from TV shows and pop culture music videos. “Life can be tough out there, you need to quickly make some friends, because you can’t make it alone!” I silently told myself. With no family in the USA I felt like a pioneer. The first in my clan to venture out of the motherland, in the name of graduate education. Armed with the blessings I carried over from Africa, I was ready to set up shop and get to work at Michigan State University furnished by the prestigious MasterCard Foundation Scholarship that I had earned.

Towards the end of the MasterCard Foundation’s orientation week for new scholars, I met Dr. Robert "Bob" Montgomery, my new advisor and mentor, with whom I had only been in touch with previously via email for several months leading up to this point. We clicked instantly, cementing the foundation of the life-long collaboration we had been working on. True to form, we immediately got to discussing several project ideas for my new career in the Research on the Ecology of Carnivores and their Prey (RECaP) Laboratory. I was elated because I love talking ‘science and conservation,’ and this was the first chat I had with someone as informed on current developments in East African wildlife conservation. Bob later invited me to continue the conversation over coffee with his family.​

Bright and early the next day, a cute little blonde girl ran up and gave me a hug at the parking lot by my house. "Hey there beautiful? How are you, my name is Njambi, what is yours?” “I am Olly, and this is my mum Georgina, and my soon to be sister,” she said pointing at her glowing mom, who was expecting their second child. “Haha, that’s amazing, congratulations!” I said extending a hug out to Georgina just before we got into the car. On our way to the coffee shop, the Montgomery’s took me about the city of Lansing so that I could become oriented to my new surroundings. We drove around on a short sight-seeing expedition, somewhat comparable to a wildlife spotting game safari out on the African plains. “Where are all the skyscrapers and thousands of people walking in the streets?” I thought to myself. “If this is the capital of Michigan, shouldn’t it be a lot bigger?” I asked. “Well it is the capital city, but it isn’t a big city…its gets the job done though.” Bob said. Satisfied with the answer, I sat back and came to appreciate the setting that would make up the background of my new life in the states. 

Over some hot coffee, croissants, and bonding with my ‘surrogate’ family, I presented them with the small care package I got from home. It consisted of a pack of Kenyan medium roast coffee and an assortment of African trinkets that I got hand-made for them. Best of all was the wooden giraffe carving on wheels that I got for Olly. She absolutely loved it and this got us talking about giraffes, our favorite African animals, and all the fun facts we knew about them. For a five-year old, she was exceedingly smart and knowledgeable, she even taught me a few things that I did not know about flamingos!! She expressed her excitement to join us in the field one day. I too had already started imagining all the fun we would have while out on safari in East Africa.  Though miles away from home, I knew I was in the right place, among people with a passion for wildlife similar to mine.
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Settling into the lab was a breeze, I quickly became acclimated to my new lab space and familiar with my new colleagues over our first lab meeting of the semester. During this white board session with Dr. Montgomery, we went over our identity, the expectations for our performance, and the core competencies that we should demonstrate in our daily lives and work. ‘RECaPivores’ – as we are collectively known –are collaborative, we are productive, we are competitive, and yet we are very humble. Researchers within our lab exhibit a strong work ethic and are both driven and hungry to be productive. Our system of developing blended student cohorts, by pairing students from Africa with their peers in USA, is a proven way to ensure information sharing, idea generation and the development of innovative solutions to several conservation challenges across the globe.

Through the semester, I have been lucky to get opportunities to represent the lab at some functions and high level gatherings hosted by Michigan State University. As part of a presentation by the lab’s Snares to Wares Initiative, in Novi, Michigan, I got to interact with alumni old and new. They were mostly interested in knowing more about the project’s impact on the wildlife populations saved from deadly snares in Murchison Falls National Park, Uganda. I was extremely proud to share everything I knew especially the fact that through this work we are able to provide some financial support to many poor families by providing an alternative livelihood and source of income. The Snares to Wares Initiative is working to provide alternative livelihood options for individuals so that as opposed to poaching for bush meat, on can become an artisan selling products that are valued by a growing market in America!

Another great initiative that I am looking forward to implementing is a collaboration between Binder Park Zoo, The African Studies Centre at MSU, and the RECaP lab. With our main goal being the promotion of African cultures in tandem with wildlife conservation, we hope to infuse traditional zoo visits with an invigorating curriculum that displays authentic interaction with African cultures. Like many in our field, the administration of this zoo has come to realize that we cannot effectively conserve African wildlife without recognizing the contribution of communities living with it and the cultures that sought to preserve these populations. It was also the first zoo I had been to while in the USA. I must say, it was very impressive. The scale of it was just enormous and the animals in their care had acres upon acres to freely graze and exhibit their natural behaviors. This zoo also did a great job of their simulation of an African village. Binder Park provides an authentic experience of what it’s like while on a wildlife safari, with a tented camp (for overnight stays) and the naming of different zoo sections in my native language, Swahili. Many people never have the opportunity to experience the beauty that African countries have to offer beyond our wildlife, beaches and other natural features. This collaboration may present me with the chance, no matter how small, to provide education opportunities to Binder Park Zoo visitors on what it means to be African and what it takes to conserve African wildlife. In that venue I am hoping to have the opportunity to share my personal experiences growing up with wildlife in Kenya and provide insight into the types of cultures that have been co-created in tandem with wildlife in these regions. I hope that this, where replicable, will instill a new appreciation for the African continent that has long been regarded as dark for – a derogatory term representative only of a lack of knowledge of the continent’s people and traditions.

For me the best event of all, was the invitation to Cowles House, the esteemed home of University’s president, Lou Anna Simon. On a chilly Saturday morning, before the biggest football game of the year, we got to talk about our lab’s ongoing projects with the President’s guests over brunch. It was a great chance, to mix and mingle with several top figures within the MSU community. Deans, Associate Deans, professors, prospective donors and friends of MSU were all present. This was a big deal, another great opportunity for the lab to display our amazing work of conservation in action. For me, this was also the perfect chance to describe my research (the application of cutting-edge innovative technology to map spatial patterns in human carnivore conflict) in addition to chatting with individuals who might have interest in supporting our work. We also had the chance to chat, though briefly, with the president and receive her endorsement for the work we do, before she headed out to cheer on the Spartans against Ohio State. Feeling fulfilled, Tutilo and I walked back home, in the first snow of the season, and not even the icy cold could bring down our high spirits. 

​​It’s now finals week, and soon after everybody will be on their way to enjoy their winter break. As I reflect back on my progress on settling and fitting in with the lab, I am nothing but content and proud of myself. I have found a family, and made life-long friends among my lab mates. Nothing can stop me now in achieving my dreams of making a difference in conservation and leadership in my field. I am already eager to get on with my second semester, I am so ready for more of that RECaP magic!

​I have always been mesmerized by nature. As a child growing up in Puerto Rico, my attention was captivated not only by vast tropical forests that would consume me while hiking, but also by seemingly insignificant tiny bugs – and everything in between.  Even though Puerto Rico is a small island, the diversity of Puerto Rico is impressive. Most people don’t realize that in just an hour’s drive, you can go from visiting our National Rainforest (El Yunque) with its towering ceiba trees booming with the sounds of a tremendous variety of tropical birds, to a Dry Forest dominated by low hanging shrubs that shade the camouflaged reptiles slithering around in the blistering heat. With these environments, and the enduring support of my parents, Puerto Rico was an absolute playground for the young naturalist in me.  So, quite “naturally,” I grew up loving the outdoors and everything that had to do with it.  

As I matured, so did my interests, and my excursions into nature graduated from mere curiosities to an undying passion for wildlife and wild things. In high school, my interests became more refined as I volunteered with wildlife organizations, talked with wildlife professionals and indulged myself in scientific wildlife literature. After much searching, I found my calling to be a spatial ecologist and now I feel as though I am in the midst of achieving this career objective.  I am fascinated by the ways in which animals move across vast swathes of land over months or years, how they make decisions about where to eat or hunt, and how they settle on productive habitat to make a living. It is questions like these that I would like to devote my professional career to assessing.

With my interests refined, I began searching for a place that would enable me to follow my dreams and provide me with the education that I needed to be successful: a place where I could initiate my wildlife apprenticeships. And that is precisely where Michigan State University (MSU) comes in.  As soon as I saw the university’s vast and diverse programs in Wildlife Management and Conservation Biology, I immediately fell in love with the university and I knew that it was the place I needed to be. As a kid from Puerto Rico the transition into life on a Big Ten campus was certainly an adjustment. But I immediately found a community of like-minded students in the Department of Fisheries and Wildlife. The one challenge that I did find in my first year at MSU was exactly how I could best focus my energies on research. To be honest, there was hardly anything that I learned in my classes that did not interest me.  But as time went on and I was exposed to more fields in conservation biology, I began to fall in love with relatively new field of spatial ecology and how it was in constant development. Knowing this, I searched for a place around campus that I could explore and learn more about my interests in the real life setting of scientific research. The end of this August (2016) will mark one year since I joined the RECaP lab in pursuit of becoming a spatial ecologist. 

My experience in RECaP began by working under the guidance of 2nd-years masters student Arthur Muneza. Arthur’s interests were centered on mapping and quantifying the prevalence of Giraffe Skin Disease in Ruaha and Serengeti National Parks.  Working with him was one of the best experiences of my life because I learned numerous skills essential for an aspiring researcher and future spatial ecologist. Skills that involved things like learning R, a statistical analytics program, and applying photogrammetry analysis techniques to images of giraffes to identify individual giraffes by the unique spot patterns on their coats and to quantify the severity of Giraffe Skin Disease on them. But as our work reached its culmination last winter, I began to wonder what I would be doing next.
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I turned my attention to getting a summer internship that would build my field skills and solidify the ecological concepts I had been learning in the classroom such as predator-prey relationships and human-wildlife interactions. These positions can be hard to come by. Thousands of undergraduates across the US actively compete for a handful of coveted technician internships that are offered, and only a select few get a spot. I applied to countless opportunities all around the United States, all of them being extraordinary opportunities to experience if I had the chance. As summer approached, I sent out more and more applications but had received no response. The pressure was on.  A technician position was exactly what I needed to make me a more competitive applicant for future positions especially due to my interests in continuing my education through graduate school. Just when it seemed I would never land a position, everything fell into place and I was offered an internship that I could never refuse.  Dr. Montgomery and Remington Moll offered me the opportunity to transition into doing research on Remington’s Urban Ecology Project and to work for him during the summer as a technician in the Cleveland Metroparks. The Metroparks are a one of a kind park system, consisting of over 23,000 acres of land divided among 18 different reservations. These reservations, which form a rough semi-circle around downtown Cleveland, are best known to native Clevelanders as the “Emerald Necklace.”

It has been 4 weeks since my position began and I can’t even begin to describe how eye-opening this experience has been. With all my time in Cleveland, I have observed how much the residents of this area appreciate these parks. Every day I see people enjoying the natural beauty that each reservation provides. But I wonder: how much does the average user really know about these parks? People’s opinions are informed by what they see most often. But sometimes things are not always as they seem.  From coyotes to weasels, the parks are teeming with an abundance of wildlife and each species has a different story to tell. But a lot of these stories are not obvious to the naked eye. Everything from a paw print found on the banks of the Chagrin River to claw marks on the bark of a young maple tree…these things tell the unseen story of the animals private lives. And these untold stories are exactly what we hope to capture with our camera-trapping project.  

To do that, my job here is to deploy 103 wildlife cameras throughout the park system in addition to 104 that have been taking pictures since last November. These 207 cameras would then serve as tools to capture the secretive lives of the animals that live in the reservations by discreetly taking pictures of them in their natural habitat.  Alongside the deployment of the new cameras, I will also be measuring the visibility at all 207 cameras in their respective sites to study how biotic and abiotic factors can directly influence how well we can detect species. For example, we don’t know how often an animal is actually in front of the camera but manages to sneak by without triggering its motion detector. If this happens frequently, we need to correct for this error so we don’t underestimate our calculations of animals’ distributions and population sizes in the parks. By doing these visibility tests I will have the opportunity to not only gather extensive data on camera efficiency, but I will be able to experience each and every study site in the different reservations. What makes this such unique opportunity is that our cameras are strategically placed in relation to extensively studied vegetation plots in the different reservations. This means that I will be able to not only see, but experience all of the reservations from a completely new perspective that can only be accomplished by traversing nearly every square inch of these parks. From towering maple forests to waist high grasslands, each reservation has a different story to tell, just waiting for somebody to look close enough to unravel it. And luckily, I get to be that person!

​Before I arrived in Cleveland, I tried to imagine what these reservations would be like. I had seen literally thousands of photos of the parks from camera data collected in the spring, so I thought my mental image would be accurate. But, wow, was I wrong – I dramatically underestimated the sheer beauty of these parks. They are a sight to behold and a wonder to the beholder. They offer such a variety of ecosystems that range from expanses of wetlands full of turtles basking in the sun to towering oak forests full of small mammals scurrying along the forests floor. But not only are the habitats simply breathtaking, but so are the myriad of creatures that inhabit them. The biodiversity that these parks house is astounding and the different stories that each park hold is enough to write dozens of books.  The shadows cast by the forest canopy, the continuous hum of the cicada emerging throughout the park, the smell of a warm summer breeze against my face…all of these things awaken the little kid inside me that would be lost in wonder at the slightest detail that is found in nature. That same sense of awe that led me to follow my dreams of being a spatial ecologist. I know that many challenges lie ahead of me and that a lot of work is yet to be done through the remainder of my position, but as my fellow RECaP lab mates say: “Embrace the Challenge.” 

This month marks my first as a research assistant in the RECaP Laboratory. I am extremely excited about the work that I will doing. As a research assistant I will have two primary responsibilities; 1) studying aspects of lion ecology and 2) contributing to our community-based conservation initiatives (Snares to Wares). In this capacity, I hope to develop solutions to stop the indiscriminant snaring of Uganda’s wildlife. In Murchison Falls National Park, where my current research is based, I am working with Professor Robert Montgomery and Ph.D. student Tutilo Mudumba. We are seeking to understand the proportion of the lion population that has been snared at some time in their life. We believe this number to be surprisingly high, as it is a frequent sight to see a lion with a scar around its neck, a lion that is missing a part of its tail, or even worse, missing a limb. The most famous lion in Murchison named Butcherman was a three-legged lion that somehow managed to maintain his position as alpha male of the Delta Pride for three years after his left hind leg at the knee was taken by a snare. Though Butcherman has now disappeared, the image of his courage and will to survive persists. This animal holds a very special place in my heart.
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I am passionate about wildlife conservation, in large part, because of the place where I come from. I was born and raised inside Queen Elizabeth National Park in South West Uganda. Growing up inside the national park taught me the value of wildlife conservation and the types of conflict that can develop from human-wildlife interaction. There was perhaps no more valuable lesson in these principles than that which my father exposed me to when I was a young girl. My father was a conservationist ahead of his time. He worked as a small-scale agro-pastoralist and kept (as we still do today) a good size herd of cattle. One day when I was just a little girl, my father came home with a Cape buffalo (Syncerus caffer) calf. As the story goes, my father was walking home when he heard the miserable cry of this young calf. The animal’s mother had been poached and my father couldn’t bear to see the young animal suffer. So he rescued the calf and brought it home to be raised among our cattle. The calf grew up thinking that it was a cow, but when it matured, it began to wander. I was devastated when news came that someone had poached our semi-tame buffalo.

Whether rescuing this calf after its mother was killed was the right thing to do, can be debated. “Just let nature take its course” would be a logical counterpoint to the decision that my father made to intervene. But it was the hand of man that killed the animal’s mother, so perhaps it was the hand of man that also needed to intervene to help the calf. Regardless, my father was not capable of walking away from that crying buffalo calf. I learned a great deal from this time in my life. I learned that wildlife conservation can be a brutal business where people are forced to make difficult decisions under short and intense timelines. And I learned the depth of compassion that my father felt for wildlife and wild places. Several years ago my father passed away, but this compassion was the greatest gift that he provided me. I do not intend to walk away from wildlife that need help.
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After receiving the news that I would be hired as a research assistant by RECaP I travelled home to my village (KatweKabatoro) to celebrate the news of my research assistantship with my mother. I travelled by bus from Kampala to Kasese town, which took me 7 hours. Then from Kasese town to Katwe Trading Centre, which took me a further 45 minutes, and then I was home. My mother, along with my siblings, still manage the cattle herd that my father started. A new batch of calves had just been born, one of my favorite times of year. My excitement turned into sorrow however, when my mum told me that one of the calves was knocked over by a speeding vehicle as it was resting close to the road which severed his left hind leg at the knee (just like Butcherman). Despite this tragedy, my family was devoted to nursing this little male back to health. Cows graze 5 to 7 kilometres away from home on communal land each day. To maintain their schedule they must set off to graze by 8am. And the cows don’t get back home until 7pm. My mother has decided to keep him close to home and buys him banana peels, among other things, from the local restaurants so that he can survive. 

Seeing the situation and knowing the importance of helping, I quickly pitched in. I went to the restaurants and carried peels home for the calf. I monitored his movement and health. For now walking is fair because he is 4 months old and I am hoping that in a years time he will confidently be able to walk on his own. This little calf represents the two-halves of my life; that which was informed by my father taking in the orphaned buffalo calf, and that which I have experienced trying to save lions from snares. We have named this little calf Butcherman in the hopes that he too can find a way to survive and inspire all around him with his courage – with a little help from the Jingo family.