The jungles of southern Mexico are a far cry from cattle ranches of the American West. And yet, when biologists head into the forests in search of lizards, they borrow a technique used by cowboys for hundreds of years: They lasso them. While the materials (and animals) are different, the philosophy is the same: Tie a slip knot onto a string, pass the loop over a lizard’s head and give it a soft tug. But until recently, people never called this a “lizard lasso”—it was called a “lizard noose.” But there are issues with this term. Not only is it technically incorrect—no animals are choked in the process—but the word “noose” is usually associated with violence. When Adam Clause (PHD ’18) realized this connection, he says, it was a “lightbulb moment” for him and his work as a lizard biologist. “As a white male from California, for whom lynchings are something that I and my family never had to worry about, I was oblivious to this. Being unaware of this blindspot for so long still embarrasses me,” says Clause (see the story about the new species of lizard Clause helped discover on page 12). To make the field more open and welcoming to biologists of color, he says, scientists need to think carefully about the words they use. In science, as in many things, words matter. University of Arizona doctoral candidate Earyn McGee is largely responsible for popularizing the term “lizard lasso” as a replacement. She has noted how it can discourage Black people from pursuing careers as lizard scientists when established white scientists regularly talk about noosing things when in the field. Furthermore, “lasso” is better in many ways. “Not only does it lack the social baggage, but it’s also way more accurate—we are not strangulating the lizards to death, it’s actually more like a lizard rodeo! Plus, there is alliteration. Who doesn’t love alliteration?” adds Clause. Across all fields of natural resources, new techniques and discoveries are prompted by the influx of new ideas. This happens in a variety of ways: Recruiting students to enter the natural resources, learning from an array of voices and perspectives along that pathway, and then, once in the field, being open to local knowledge from those who live in the area. While there have been efforts in recent decades to increase diversity, there is still ground to cover: For example, more than 78% of conservation scientists and foresters are male, according to U.S. government data collected by Data USA, and more than 95% are white (non-Hispanic). In occupations that support fishing and hunting, almost 92% of the workforce is male and 62% identify as white. Last summer, calls to bring more diversified populations into the fold became more fervent as protests across the country called for racial and social justice. Scientists, biologists and others took a harder look at recruitment and retention among their workforces. And Warnell responded to similar calls from alumni and students by continuing ongoing student recruitment plans, launching a new initiative to increase diversity, equity and inclusion training among staff and faculty, and working with faculty to bring more inclusive lessons into the existing curriculum, among other efforts. The work is not done, but the course is charted. At Warnell, students, faculty and alumni are part of the social shifts taking place in a variety of ways, which includes how research is conducted, how new professionals are recruited and how they interact with the populations they serve. A diverse approach In the 1990s, Warnell professor Sonia Hernandez researched tapirs in Costa Rica. She enjoyed the experience of working with these elusive, nocturnal creatures, but also knew that, as an outsider, there was a limit to the impact her work could make—she wanted a way to embed the research into the local population. “I said, I’ll never work with them again unless I can work with someone local,” she adds. Then, decades later, she received an email from Costa Rica resident Jorge Rojas inquiring about a doctoral program. He, too, was interested in tapirs, and works for the nonprofit Costa Rica Wildlife Foundation and its tapir multidisciplinary conservation project, NAI Conservation. He was accepted into Warnell and chose to participate in the Integrative Conservation PhD program. He is now completing his thesis in the field in Costa Rica. Rojas can now bridge the research and methods learned in the doctorate program with the boots-on-the-ground needs of residents. He’s been studying the animals’ movements across a landscape of small-scale farms. Tapir-based ecotourism emerged in the past five years, but because the animals can eat crops, Rojas and others are working on solutions to balance the agrarian economy with the emerging tourist demands. At Warnell, he’s learned about landscapes, watersheds and management solutions unseen in Central America. The experience also highlighted ways academics can work with indigenous communities or large corporations. By blending this new knowledge with the understanding that comes from living in the region, he says, he’s able to find sustainable solutions that directly benefit the community where he already lives. “In the past, many researchers would come to a community and extract all the knowledge,” he says. “But I think having the trust of the people and establishing networks with people is important. They don’t see me as a researcher but also part of the community. I came here to engage with people and be known as Jorge.” Rojas is part of Hernandez’ lab, where nearly all the students identify as immigrants or of Latin descent. This isn’t a coincidence, she says. She is active in and regularly speaks to Latinx student organizations. When students make a deeper connection with a faculty member, it makes the transition to college that much easier. Diverse students help open the door to novel solutions. For example, students from abroad come with knowledge of their own country’s environmental policies. Students from Costa Rica grow up where hunting is illegal, so their takes on conservation methods differ from those who grew up hunting in North America. Connecting Latinx students with careers in the natural resources comes with its own hurdles, adds Hernandez. Often, parents immigrated from rural areas so the idea of going to college to work in a remote area isn’t a career path they push for their children. But, she says, she is working to understand more about that dynamic and how conservation can play a role. Boots on the ground In the United States, the population is growing increasingly urban—about 83% of the population lives in metropolitan areas, according to the USDA—and also more diverse. Thus, connecting with underserved communities not only opens opportunities to careers in the outdoors, but also helps the natural resources workforce become more representative of the country as a whole. Federal and state agencies have worked to recruit a more diverse workforce for a while now—in a 2015 speech to the Federal Asian Pacific American Council, Leslie Weldon, then the deputy chief of the USDA’s National Forest System, noted that 27% of the agency’s foresters are women and 11% identify as a minority. Private companies, particularly in forestry, also see the value in recruiting a more diverse workforce. Molpus Woodlands Group, for example, recently expanded its annual scholarship program to bring more diversity into the forestry management profession. Warnell is finalizing the details on a new privately funded scholarship geared toward underrepresented students majoring in forestry. This is all good news for alumni like Mary Griffin (BSFR ’04), a stand improvement forester for the Quinault Indian Nations in Taholah, Washington. She spends her days cruising 208,000 acres of lush western hemlocks and red cedars and working with contractors to thin them. She’s grown used to being the only woman in the room, and working on a reservation, she’s also adept at navigating its particular requirements and priorities. She’s charting her own path as a woman in forestry while also learning from those around her. It takes a combination of thick skin and an open mind—and she is embracing its challenges. “I’ve been so lucky. Being a woman in this field, it’s intimidating. You walk into a room and all eyes are on you because you are a woman,” she says. “But being a woman, you can’t go into it like, ‘I know everything.’ You have to be the quiet person in the room and be a sponge. Because when I speak, people listen.” At the same time, Griffin must balance the management needs of the tribe and the needs of the forests. Salmon, and fishing, are historically important and compete with water needs for top priority. And with harvests of some trees 80 to 100 years in the future, Griffin has to closely monitor what’s planted and harvested today. Brad Southern (BSFR ’82, MFR ’84), CEO of engineered wood products company LP Building Solutions, says the company manages a similar balancing act. In Canada, the majority of wood fiber sourced to manufacture LP’s oriented strand board (OSB) and siding products comes from sustainably managed forests on public lands. “For instance, critical wildlife habitat, cultural heritage sites, ceremonial grounds, and recreational trails, just to name a few, are often integrated into the design of individual harvest areas,” he says. LP also works with industry associations and communities to promote and attract new recruits and companies into the logging and trucking profession. LP has recently hired a start-up logging company, called Status Energy, led by indigenous entrepreneurs, to support the annual harvest and wood delivery to the LP Dawson Creek Siding facility in British Columbia. Listening and learning from local populations is key in managing natural resources. Sometimes called local knowledge, it means coming to a situation—whether it’s a tree stand or animal health—with an open mind to learn from those who live in the area. “It’s important to not ignore the public in wildlife health. Often, the first people who notice wildlife disease outbreaks are not professionals,” says Raquel Francisco, a master’s student studying wildlife sciences. For example, conservation work in North America is dependent on hunters or anglers communicating issues they find in the field. “When migratory birds come in, we’ll see large bird die-offs because of a salmonella outbreak. And usually, birdwatchers or homeowners will be the ones to report these large mortalities.” In Costa Rica, Rojas says local knowledge is valuable in understanding the relationship between farmers and tapirs. Griffin agrees, adding that whenever she speaks to a student about to graduate, she encourages them to start with a technician job because it gives them invaluable experience working in the field, with a variety of people and situations. “As a professional, we should have a lay perspective,” adds Francisco. “And that’s why it’s important to have people from all kinds of backgrounds, whether it’s socio-economic or gender identity or culturally—they’re just able to bring in these different perspectives that someone as, for example, a white male who is pretty dominant in our field wouldn’t have.” Griffin says her education at Warnell set her up for success at jobs across the country. Warnell taught her about more than Southern forests and led her to keep exploring. “And because you know where you come from, you know your roots, and you’ll never forget that,” adds Griffin. “When people know you graduated from Warnell, people know you got the best tools available.” In her 20 years at UGA, Hernandez adds, Warnell’s demographics have changed. Today there are students at Warnell from around the world in a variety of majors. Is there room for improvement? Absolutely. But Warnell leadership, faculty and students are welcoming the changes. “I think that Warnell has changed a lot,” Hernandez adds. “And with intentional action it will continue to change a lot in terms of diversity.”
