Directions in conservation biology

Towards the end of the evening reception on Friday Richard Griffiths gleefully accosted me brandishing a thick sheaf of papers. “Sheema! Homework!” and I swear there was something vaguely wicked about his smile. I took it, thanked him for it and promptly ignored it, resolving to ‘have a look at it’ sometime over the weekend. It looked a bit threatening and I really didn’t feel like dealing with it right then, especially if it would make me do something horrible like write an essay or something, or go look for books.

As it turns out, it’s a bit of weekend reading, I suppose to prepare us for our first class Monday morning. It’s an extremely thick paper (26 pages to be precise, not including references) someone called Graeme Caughley wrote in the Journal of Animal Ecology 1994, and it’s called ‘Directions in conservation biology’. I’m convinced now that Richard did this on purpose, specifically out of a sadistic delight at terrifying the living daylights out of new Conservation Biology students. He must do this every single year. Here’s a little extract from the paper, and you tell me if you can make head or tails of what it’s talking about:-

“The variance in rate of increase of a population of size N is simply Vd = Vd√N. Table 1 shows that a population, which would increase at r = 0.3 if it had a stable age distribution appropriate to fixed schedules of age-specific fecundity and survival, needs to be moderately large before the rate of increase stabilizes. It shows further that a small population, although ‘trying’ to increase at r = 0.3, is likely to suffer erratic swings of growth and decline that might knock it out before it escaped from the pit of low numbers.”

And, as an extra treat:-

“It is an established result that, under demographic stochasticity alone, mean time to extinction increases with intrinsic rate of increase rm and, if the population is bounded above as in the logistic or truncated exponential model, persistence time exhibits an upwardly concave trend (nearly exponential) when regressed on that upper bound K (Fig. 2: dashed line).”

I gave up after page 3, which is about the same time I discovered that I’ve bought some very horrible coffee.

Now I really wish I’d attended the DICE induction talk earlier, 2-4pm Friday. I was too busy being frantic and stressed out that I never even remembered. Someone, please remind me that I need to get a timetable (when are my classes??) and a reading list (what books am I supposed to be reading??).

Have kitchenware, will cook!

And so I desert my academic reading for yet another excursion into town. It’s not aimless wandering, honest really, since I’ve got plenty more things on my shopping list to procure. Besides, the sun is out, and in the UK that means it really would be a sin to stay indoors.

My state of being potless and panless means that I nip into 'Poppins' for a jacket potato lunch. Ooh English jacket potatoes – I’ve been dreaming about them for years. People can say what they want about English food (and I frequently do), but boy do they know how to make a good potato. I’d originally promised myself one with cheese, but one look at the menu brought memories of prawn & mayonnaise flooding back, and from that moment I was lost. And the taste, why, the taste was even better than I’d remembered it – all soft and buttery and melt-in-your-mouth. I underestimated English portions though, and overestimated my eating capabilities (polishing off an entire dish of three-cheese & broccoli pasta bake with a pile of chips yesterday had made me cocky). It was a monster of a jacket potato, and, after soldiering on heroically through three-quarters of it, I finally conceded defeat. I know those poor little prawns will come back to haunt my sleep tonight.


And, speaking of English food, let it be known that the person who invented flapjacks deserves to be given an award.

Mission…somewhat accomplished, for today. I struggled back to Tyler with a bag full of cooking implements and extra bedlinen. I’m still mystified though that finding a winter duvet for a single bed appears to be an impossible quest. None of the shops seem to have any, and Argos, the student’s godsend, is too far out of town to reach on foot (I’m sure that was done on purpose). On the other hand I now know where Sainsbury’s is, if I ever feel like struggling uphill for an hour weighed down by groceries. I do believe I’ve done my calf in, or at least I’m certainly not imagining this sharp pain that seems to have now migrated down to my ankle.

I don’t mind too much, today has been quite fruitful in more ways than one. The weather has been smiling down on us, sunny enough for t-shirts, yet coolly pleasant…why, it’s so warm today that I’ve even got my window open to let the breeze in! Ah, if only English weather were like this all the time…

Curses, I can hear conversation and laughter in the corridor outside my door. That means more people are moving in…oh no! Neighbours! More people to share the kitchen with! It’s not as bad as sharing the bathroom, but anyone who has experience of student kitchens will tell you that the dishes never get washed, the rubbish is always overflowing, and your stuff is forever getting nicked. Dare I take out my shiny new pots and pans and expose them to certain desecration?? More importantly, will I work up enough motivation to start cooking my own meals?

Oh yes and there’s the business of that paper I’m supposed to finish reading…