Blogs from our Scientific Researchers

Carnegie Museum of Natural History is home to active research and vast scientific collections. Our scientific researchers regularly contribute to the blog at the museum.

January 24, 2024 by Erin Southerland

2023 Rector Christmas Bird Count Results

by Annie Lindsay

*American Woodcock. Photo by Powdermill Avian Research Center.*

For a few hours before dawn on the chilly morning of December 16, several intrepid birders scoured the Rector Christmas Bird Count circle for owls, and with a bit of luck, counted four species. Eastern Screech-Owl is a common, year-round resident and a respectable 14 individuals were heard calling that morning, in addition to one encounter each of Great Horned Owl, Barred Owl, and Northern Saw-whet Owl.

Once the sun rose that morning, the owlers were joined by many other birders to spend the day systematically searching for and tallying all the birds they could see and hear throughout the day. The Christmas Bird Count (CBC) is an annual citizen science tradition that began in 1900 with the goal of counting all the birds that participants encounter within an established 15-mile diameter circle on a selected day between December 14 and January 5. The Rector count, centered just northwest of Powdermill Nature Reserve, covers a variety of habitats and elevations spanning from the Chestnut Ridge to the Laurel Ridge, and has been going strong since 1974. Because of the diversity of habitats and the dedication of participants, Rector CBCers have totaled 132 species within the circle, including a new species added this year.

*Rusty Blackbird. Photo by Powdermill Avian Research Center.*

The Rector count circle is divided into sectors, and this year’s 43 participants fanned out to cover as much territory as they could within their assigned sectors, some opting to hike trails in the state parks and forest, some traveling the roads by car, stopping periodically to listen and watch, and eight birders counted the species they saw visiting their feeders and yards. At the end of the day, everyone gathered at Powdermill for the tally dinner, an evening to chat about the day’s events, share a delicious meal, and to add up the birds each group counted. This year’s total was above average with 6,131 individuals of 76 species tallied, surpassed in recent years only by 2021, a year with unseasonably warm temperatures extending quite late into the fall that garnered several species not normally expected to persist into December. Many species set new high-count records this year, including Canada Goose, Black Vulture, Red-tailed Hawk, American Woodcock, Red-bellied Woodpecker, Yellow-bellied Sapsucker, Hairy Woodpecker, Pileated Woodpecker, Carolina Wren, Eastern Bluebird, Northern Mockingbird, and Red-winged Blackbird. Although some of these high counts likely can be attributed to increased effort and number of participants, almost all of these species seem to be expanding their ranges northward, or are occurring in southwestern Pennsylvania in greater numbers, often year-round, a trend ornithologists have been noticing in recent years.

*Pileated Woodpecker. Photo by Alex Busato.*

Excitement is always high at the tally, and this year was no exception. Highlights of the count were plentiful as participants shared photos and stories about their birds-of-the-day. One group found two Ruby-crowned Kinglets (nearly matching the count’s high total of three set in 2021) and a massive flock of 915 Canada Geese, which was the bulk of the day’s record-setting total. Another group found an Eastern Phoebe, a species recorded only twice before on the Rector CBC, perched in a tree pumping its tail up and down. Three participants photographed a Rough-legged Hawk, a species uncommon enough that they knew they would have to “prove” their identification, soaring over farm fields while driving to get lunch. And another group reported a flock of 150 Red-winged and 20 Rusty Blackbirds, setting a record for Red-wingeds and the highest count of Rusties since the mid-1990s. They also spotted an American Woodcock, a new species for the count, doing its bobbing walk in a wet spot along a road.

*Rough-legged Hawk. Photo by Mark McConaughy.*

One more notable finding of the day was three leucistic Red-tailed Hawks. At least one had been spotted at the edges of fields near Powdermill for much of 2023, but on the day of the count, two different birds, with varying amounts of white, were spotted and photographed in those fields, and a third was spotted many miles to the northwest in a different sector. The word “leucistic” refers to lack of pigment, and these leucistic birds have one or, in the case of these particular hawks, many white feathers. Finding one leucistic bird is uncommon, but three relatively large birds showing this same coloration is quite rare.

*Leucistic Red-tailed Hawk. Photo by Mark McConaughy.*

As we wrap up the 124^th Christmas Bird Count season and submit the Rector count’s data to the National Audubon Society, we thank all participants for their commitment to the birds and look forward to next year’s count!

For more information about the Christmas Bird Count and to see how the data are used, please visit: https://www.audubon.org/conservation/science/christmas-bird-count

Final 2023 Tally:

*Canada Goose – 1009

Mute Swan – 4

Tundra Swan – 1

Wood Duck – 1

American Black Duck – 13

Mallard – 74

Bufflehead – 2

Hooded Merganser – 11

Common Merganser – 3

Ruddy Duck – 6

Ring-necked Pheasant – 7

Wild Turkey – 14

Pied Billed Grebe – 6

*Black Vulture – 55

Turkey Vulture – 80

Northern Harrier – 1

Sharp-shinned Hawk – 1

Cooper’s Hawk – 2

Black Eagle – 2

Red-shouldered Hawk – 9

*Red-tailed Hawk – 66

Rough-legged Hawk – 1

Killdeer – 3

*American Woodcock – 1

Rock Pigeon – 37

Mourning Dove – 90

Eastern Screech-Owl – 14

Great Horned Owl – 1

Barred Owl – 1

Northern Saw-whet Owl – 1

Belted Kingfisher – 8

Red-headed Woodpecker – 6

*Red-bellied Woodpecker – 102

*Yellow-bellied Sapsucker – 16

Downy Woodpecker – 66

*Hairy Woodpecker – 28

Northern Flicker – 17

*Pileated Woodpecker – 38

American Kestrel – 2

Eastern Phoebe – 1

Blue Jay – 287

American Crow – 764

Common Raven – 25

Carolina Chickadee – 1

Black-capped Chickadee – 311

Tufted Titmouse – 212

Red-breasted Nuthatch – 7

White-breasted Nuthatch – 144

Brown Creeper – 8

Winter Wren – 3

*Carolina Wren – 86

Golden-crowned Kinglet – 60

Ruby-crowned Kinglet – 2

*Eastern Bluebird – 191

Hermit Thrush – 5

American Robin – 85

*Northern Mockingbird – 19

European Starling – 794

Cedar Waxwing – 45

Yellow-rumped Warbler – 7

American Tree Sparrow – 7

Field Sparrow – 5

Fox Sparrow – 1

Dark-eyed Junco – 411

White-throated Sparrow – 105

Song Sparrow – 117

Swamp Sparrow – 12

Eastern Towhee – 3

Northern Cardinal – 168

*Red-winged Blackbird – 151

Rusty Blackbird – 20

House Finch – 110

Purple Finch – 1

American Goldfinch – 90

House Sparrow – 61

Total Species: 76

Total Individuals: 6,131

*asterisk indicates high total for count

Annie Lindsay is Banding Program Manager at Powdermill Nature Reserve, Carnegie Museum of Natural History’s environmental research center.

Collected On This Day: Witch Hazel, January 1923

by Mason Heberling

witch hazel branch, buds, and leaf on an herbarium sheet

This specimen of common witch hazel (Hamamelis virginiana) was collected in January 1923 in Beaver County, Pennsylvania “East of Ambridge” by H.W. Graham. Herbert W. Graham (1905-2009) was an “Assistant” in Botany at the Carnegie Museum from 1925-1929 while he was a student at the University of Pittsburgh who later became an oceanographer at the Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution. During his time at the museum, he collected many specimens, often with his brother, Edward H. Graham, who was also an Assistant in Botany, later curator (1931-1937) and later, a well-known conservationist with the US Department of Agriculture. The Graham brothers went on expeditions to the Sonoran Desert in the late 1920s, collecting specimens and information that was used to create the desert diorama that remains in the museum’s Hall of Botany today.

This specimen has a “bits and pieces” feel to it, but shows what the plant looks like in winter, with branches, buds, a leaf, and even including a nice cross section cut out of the stem. The leaf is in great shape, which makes me question whether the leaf was truly was collected in January, when the leaves are usually dry and crumbled from the wrath of winter.

The specimen was simply collected in “January 1923” with no note on the day of year. I feel that coming off a holiday break (what day is it?). But more seriously, it reminds us that many specimens of the past were collected for different purposes with many of their uses today unanticipated. For instance, collectors today would certainly record the calendar date of collection, valued just as much as information on the location it was collected, as scientists routinely use specimens to date information to understand the seasonal timing of leafing, flowering, and fruiting with changing environmental conditions over time.

The leaf is a nice touch, too. It indicates that at least some leaves were still around in the winter of 1923, and it is quite possible they were even still connected to the stem. Though this species is deciduous (drops its leaves seasonally), common witch hazel has been known to sometimes hang onto some dead leaves on branches through winter. This phenomenon is known as “marcescence.” Why this happens isn’t fully known. Read more here.

You can find this specimen and 588 others of the species in the Carnegie Museum herbarium here.

Above: Witch hazel exhibiting marcescence, with last year’s leaves still attached in early spring (photo taken March 23 2021 at Powdermill Nature Reserve)

Below: Witch hazel’s magnificent autumn blooms. Unlike many woody plants in our region that bloom in spring as leaves are emerging, this species blooms in fall, as its leaves are dropping! (Photo taken October 29 2022 in New Kensington, PA.)

Mason Heberling is Associate Curator of Botany at Carnegie Museum of Natural History.

Oysters Swim Towards a Siren Soundscape

by Sabrina Spiher Robinson

illustration of a walrus and a person on a beach looking at oysters with feet — *Illustration by Sir John Tenniel. Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 License.*¹

“’O Oysters, come and walk with us!’

The Walrus did beseech.

‘A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk,

Along the briny beach:

We cannot do with more than four,

To give a hand to each …

Four other Oysters followed them,

And yet another four;

And thick and fast they came at last,

And more, and more, and more—

All hopping through the frothy waves,

And scrambling to the shore …

‘O Oysters,’ said the Carpenter,

‘You’ve had a pleasant run!

Shall we be trotting home again?’

But answer came there none—

And this was scarcely odd, because

They’d eaten every one.”

In 1872, Lewis Carroll included the poem “The Walrus and the Carpenter” in his classic book Through the Looking Glass. The Walrus calls out to the oysters to join him and the Carpenter on a walk along the seashore; the young oysters don’t know any better and come to join him. Eventually, all the oysters are eaten up. But can one really sing a siren song to make an oyster come to them? An informed answer to this question requires some background knowledge information about an underappreciated form of wildlife.

oyster shells on cultch in a box — *The favored subsurface described as “cultch” is depicted in this cluster of oyster shells of the species* Crassostrea virginica.

Oysters live in reefs, submerged ridges or mounds of stable material, and baby oysters prefer to settle on a base — called “cultch” — of old oyster shells. Where conditions are favorable, oysters have plenty of company. When a team of researchers investigated the diversity of oyster reefs in the Gulf of Mexico, they detailed the incredible number of creatures that live on the reefs where oysters form: 115 species of fish and 41 species of crustaceans made the Gulf oyster reefs their homes, at very high densities and in communities containing up to 52 species at a time. Other researchers have documented multiple corals, mollusks, and worms that live primarily on oyster reefs. Unfortunately, erosion from coastal development, wetland destruction, unsustainable harvesting, and pollution have decimated populations of the Atlantic coast’s native oyster, Crassostrea virginica, which is bad news for coastal marine habitats in general.²

The importance of oyster reefs as marine habitats for multiple species is only one reason to preserve and reconstruct them. Oysters, as filter-feeding animals, provide an incredible service to the water quality of the estuaries they inhabit. They are also, of course, an important food source along America’s east coast.

The complications of rebuilding and repopulating oyster reefs are many. Pollution must be reduced, especially the run-off of agricultural fertilizers. Such fertilizers “enrich” underwater environments in a process called eutrophication.

Eutrophication causes massive blooms of algae that set off a chain of events disastrous for bodies of water and their inhabitants: the algae can release toxins on its own, but most commonly it overwhelms host ecosystems by blocking sunlight and killing all of the other plants in the water. Eventually the algae die too, and as all these dead plants decay, eaten away by multiplying bacteria that use up what little oxygen is left, dead zones form that suffocate underwater animals. This decay also lowers the pH of the water, leading to acidification that harms and kills animals (especially mollusks, whose shells dissolve in a very acidic environment). Additionally, if sediment erosion is not reduced, these water-borne materials eventually bury and suffocate oysters.

Oyster bed substrates that have been destroyed by human construction or aggressive commercial dredging can be replaced with cultch that is attractive to baby oysters. However, baby oysters must be recruited to the rebuilt reefs, either from the natural population of oyster larvae, or from hatchery-grown larvae reintroduced to the environment.

So, how to attract a baby oyster to your newly constructed oyster reef? First, let’s consider the life cycle of C. virginica, and the critical importance of age range in young oyster populations. In the first year of their adult lives, oysters are male. At certain times of the year, in response to pheromonal cues from their fellow oysters on the reef, they release clouds of billions of sperms. Older oysters on the reef, creatures transitioned into females after a year or two of life, release millions of eggs into these clouds of sperm. About two days after an egg is fertilized, the oyster larvae have become what are called veligers, and they begin to feed on particles in the water and to seek a place to call home. During this time, they develop a foot, and once they arrive on some promising substrate, they can crawl around, looking for just the right spot. At this point they are called spat. Soon the spat lose their feet and cement themselves to the spot they will call home for the rest of their lives, which can be more than a dozen years in the wild.

small boxes of oyster shells — Crassostrea virginica, from the CMNH collection, multiple shells that look completely different, but represent a single species. Epicures report taste differences according to where exactly each oyster lived.

It was long unknown how much choice an oyster veliger had in determining where it landed. Until the 1990s scientists thought that baby oysters had very little control over their movement in the water. In 2022, Australian scientists studying the Australian flat oyster, Ostrea angasi, proved that oyster veligers could very deliberately move to get to a surface they preferred to make their permanent home on.³

How this discovery occurred is of particular interest. The Australian researchers were testing the effects of soundscapes on oyster larvae, following experiments conducted in America in Pamlico Sound in North Carolina. Soundscapes are the collective sounds of a given environment: all the noises of human and non-human animal activity, along with environmental sounds of wind and water and precipitation. In 2014, researchers in North Carolina were experimenting with ways to attract oyster larvae to their newly built conservation reefs. They discovered that by recording the soundscape of a healthy oyster reef and playing it in the water, they attracted a much higher number of spat on experimental tiles near the recordings. Apparently, the baby oysters heard the sound of a healthy oyster reef and headed towards it to make their homes.⁴

How do oysters hear? Humans and other land animals hear through a system of air compression. Sound waves compress air in certain patterns, and tiny hairs within our ears translate those compressions into electrical signals that are then sent to the brain for further interpretation as sound. Underwater, animals hear through particle vibration: sound waves vibrate from particle to particle in the denser medium of water, where the particles are in direct contact with one another, even the water contained in the bodies of fish and invertebrates. Underwater animals have sensing structures that translate these vibrations into electrical signals that the animal then interprets in some way.⁵

Following up on the work of the North Carolina scientists, the Australian scientists confirmed in lab studies using underwater speakers in a completely currentless body of water, that oyster larvae were deliberately swimming towards the sounds of a healthy reef to settle. When they tried this technique on human-made conservation reefs, oyster recruitment increased on the artificial cultch — an important finding, since if baby oysters don’t find the newly deployed conservation reefs quickly, the reefs become covered in algae, making it very difficult for oyster spat to attach to them.⁶

And so, recording and replaying the soundscape of a healthy oyster reef — populated by snapping shrimp, oyster toadfish, and many other creatures that call a healthy oyster reef home — can help with the recruitment of baby oysters to human-made reefs for the purposes of conserving and growing the endangered population of C. virginica. Not only can oyster larvae “hear,” they can — and will — very deliberately swim toward the sounds of a healthy reef. And truly, who amongst us could deny the siren song of the snapping shrimp and the oyster toadfish?

Listen:

Coastal Conservatory

Center for Marine Sciences and Technology (CMAST)

Sabrina Spiher Robinson is Collection Assistant for the Section of Mollusks at Carnegie Museum of Natural History.

Notes:

Science Museum Group. Magic lantern slide depicting Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, Walrus, Carpenter and Baby Oysters. 1951-316/11Science Museum Group Collection Online. Accessed 9 January 2024. https://collection.sciencemuseumgroup.org.uk/objects/co8362656/magic-lantern-slide-depicting-alices-adventures-in-wonderland-walrus-carpenter-and-baby-oysters-lantern-slide.
La Peyre Megan K., Aguilar Marshall Danielle, Miller Lindsay S., Humphries Austin T. Oyster Reefs in Northern Gulf of Mexico Estuaries Harbor Diverse Fish and Decapod Crustacean Assemblages: A Meta-Synthesis Frontiers in Marine Science, Vol. 6, 2019 https://www.frontiersin.org/articles/10.3389/fmars.2019.00666
Williams, B. R., McAfee, D. & Connell, S. D. Oyster larvae swim along gradients of sound. Journal of Applied Ecology, Vol 59, 2002, pp. 1815–1824 https://besjournals.onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/full/10.1111/1365-2664.14188
Ashlee Lillis, David B. Eggleston, DelWayne R. Bohnenstiehl Oyster Larvae Settle in Response to Habitat-Associated Underwater Sounds PLOS ONE 9(1). October 30, 2013 https://journals.plos.org/plosone/article?id=10.1371/journal.pone.0079337#amendment-0
Nedelec, S.L., Campbell, J., Radford, A.N., Simpson, S.D. and Merchant, N.D. Particle motion: the missing link in underwater acoustic ecology. Methods Ecol Evol vol 7, 2016, pp. 836-842 https://besjournals.onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/full/10.1111/2041-210X.12544
McAfee, D., Williams, B. R., McLeod, L., Reuter, A., Wheaton, Z., & Connell, S. D. Soundscape enrichment enhances recruitment and habitat building on new oyster reef restorations. Journal of Applied Ecology, vol. 60, 2023, pp.111–120 https://besjournals.onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/10.1111/1365-2664.14307

Birds in “Twelve Days of Christmas”: a Museum Search

by Patrick McShea

The Twelve Days of Christmas

When a traditional song about Christmas gifts reaches young ears, the centuries-old lyrics naturally prompt questions. If you’ve been on the receiving end of inquiries such as “What’s a partridge?”, a museum visit can provide identity information for the abundance of birds mentioned in the “Twelve Days of Christmas.”

Although the birds cited below aren’t precise matches for European species of the song, locating these feathered references can renew your own appreciation for what might be an overly familiar tune.

Inspiration and informational reference for the re-interpretation of several exhibits comes from a 2018 American Ornithological Society blog post by Bob Montgomerie, an evolutionary biologist at Queens University in Kingston, Ontario. Dr. Montgomerie’s post is titled “Three French Hens.”

A Partridge in a Pear Tree

*Ruffed Grouse taxidermy mount in Discovery Basecamp.*

In Pennsylvania, the Ruffed Grouse has reigned as state bird since 1931. The species’ collective value to Pennsylvania residents includes the gamebird’s historic importance as a food source and its current role as the focus of much upland sport hunting. The bird referenced in the song might well have been the Red-legged Partridge, a European species known to science as Alectoris rufa, however, the Ruffed Grouse is a decent substitute because the bird, which is known to perch in trees occasionally, is routinely called “partridge” in Maine and other portions of the northeast.

Two Turtle Doves

*Passenger Pigeon taxidermy mount in Bird Hall*

The European Turtle Dove, Streptopelia turtur, is a member of the bird family of doves and pigeons known as Columbidae. Generally, the smaller species in the family are called doves, and the larger species ae called pigeons. The Passenger Pigeon is the most notable family member on display at the museum.

Passenger Pigeons were once so abundant in eastern North America that flocks darkened the skies for hours when the birds migrated to access seasonal feeding areas and nesting sites.

Sustainable use of the birds by humans did not continue into the 19^th Century. By mid-century, Passenger Pigeons became an unregulated commodity in the rapidly expanding American economy, with the country’s growing railroad network and parallel telegraph system providing unprecedented means for sharing word of flock locations, transporting hunters to those sites, and shipping harvested birds to distant markets.

Three French Hens

The song reference is to a specific breed of domestic chicken. There are no domestic chickens on display in the museum, but the species is usually well-represented in the food selections offered within the building’s dining areas. Some scientists have speculated that our current reliance on domestic chickens as a global source of protein for human consumption might someday leave deposits of chicken bones as an identifying mark of the Anthropocene, a proposed name for the current geologic age, viewed as the period during which human activity has been the dominant influence on climate and the environment.

Four Calling Birds

Northern Raven taxidermy mount in a diorama of its habitat

If we use the cited author’s research finding, (The original ‘colly bird’ was the Eurasian Blackbird (Turdus merula) as ‘colly’ meant ‘black’ as in ‘coaly,’ and is why border collies bear that name.) the Northern Ravens in an Art of the Diorama display can fill this slot. Another candidate is the American Crow, a species frequently observed passing over the museum building at dusk during winter evenings, heading to local roosts in scattered flocks that number in the thousands. Ornithologists explain the birds’ collective behavior as taking advantage of a “heat island effect,” a base temperature in a city that is five or more degrees warmer than the surrounding countryside.

Five Golden Rings

Close-up of a bird band on bird taxidermy mount

“Five golden rings” might also have a bird connection. Dr. Montgomerie’s post mentions both Gold Finches and Ring-necked Pheasants as possible references, but the museum’s long history of bird banding at Powdermill Nature Reserve, the location of Powdermill Avian Research Center (PARC), allows a different approach. Bird banding is a research practice that involves capturing wild birds, marking them with numbered leg bands, and releasing them unharmed. In some parts of the world this centuries’ old effort to verify bird movements through recovered birds is called “ringing.” It is admittedly a stretch between gold rings and aluminum bands, but for a close look at the latter, check the tabletops in Discovery Basecamp for an encased taxidermy mount of a Gray Catbird bearing one of the lightweight markers on its right leg.

Six Geese A-laying

goose taxidermy mounts in a museum diorama

Although the lyric refers to a domestic variety, a scene focused on an enormous gathering of a wild species in The Art of the Diorama demonstrates the eventual outcome of “geese a-laying” – more geese. Here Blue Geese, a variety of Snow Geese with dark plumage, are shown gathering near James Bay in preparation for a continent-crossing migration. The dark-headed geese in the foreground are young of the year, the most recent product of “Snow Geese a-laying.”

Seven Swans A-swimming

A lone Tundra Swan watches over Discovery Basecamp from a high perch. Thousands of these birds fly, rather than swim, across Pennsylvania spring and fall during seasonal migrations between Arctic nesting grounds and wintering territory along the Chesapeake Bay. Their fall passage over western Pennsylvania, announced by flock calls some people describe as “like the baying of distant hounds,” generally occurs between mid-November and early December.

Patrick McShea is an Educator at Carnegie Museum of Natural History.

What’s in a Name? Japanese Knotweed or Itadori

by Rachel Reeb

We name what we notice, adopting or creating vocabulary to reflect all that our senses regularly engage.

Where multiple names exist in the same language for the same subject, nuance reigns. In Japan, for example, a historical collection of words referring to Reynoutria japonica (synonym: Fallopia japonica), the plant known commonly as itadori or Japanese knotweed, totaled to 689 terms. Some words referenced the plant’s shape and structure, others its sour taste, medicinal properties, seasonal appearance, or supporting habitat. Several dozen terms even noted audio characteristics, referencing the sound produced by the snapping of the plant’s stem.

Though the plant has deep cultural and ecological ties to its home range of Japan, Taiwan, China, and Korea, most of these connections are lost in its introduced range of western Pennsylvania, where it is considered to be an unwelcome invasive species. Information about how differently itadori is regarded in different parts of the world forces us to appreciate the diversity of human attitudes towards plants. Why are plant species perceived positively by some people, but negatively by others? To explore this question, a research paper documenting the rich cultural and ecological history of itadori in Japan (“Fallopia japonica (Japanese Knotweed) in Japan: Why Is It Not a Pest for Japanese People,” M. Shimoda and N. Yamasaki, 2016) made the journal club reading list for the scientists and educators involved in the collaborative Invasive Plant Species Education and Outreach Campaign funded by the Richard King Mellon Foundation.

*Along the Allegheny River near Braeburn, Westmoreland County, spring growth of a knotweed stand that will block the view of the water by late June.*

Itadori, or Japanese knotweed, has co-evolved with the humans, plants, and animals living in its home range for thousands of years. It’s no wonder that there are so many names for this plant in Japan, where people have co-existed with itadori and passed down their knowledge of the species over generations. Throughout history, humans found many uses for itadori in food, medicine, floral arrangements, and even as a children’s toy!

Today, in Japan, itadori commonly grows around lawns and roadsides, but it is not considered to be a pest because it can easily be mowed and managed. In comparison, itadori was introduced to western Pennsylvania in the early 1900s, making our collective experience with the plant relatively recent by botanical standards.

People widely planted itadori in ornamental gardens across the continent, but did not anticipate that it would escape cultivation and become established in nature. Here, many of the natural ‘checks and balances’ that stabilized itadori populations in the home range have been lost, including its insect pests, fungi, and plant competitors. Humans also lack deep ties to itadori in the introduced range, and consider it to be more detrimental than it is useful. The fast-growing plant often causes structural damage to buildings, is extremely expensive to manage, and displaces many of the native plants and animals we have formed connections with.

Thousands of years from now, itadori is likely to form new ecological and cultural connections in its introduced environment of Pennsylvania. What new names might we use to describe it, as our relationship to this plant evolves over time?

Rachel Reeb is a postdoctoral research fellow in the Section of Botany at Carnegie Museum of Natural History and content creator and project manager for the Invasive Species Awareness Campaign.

Art and the Animal

by Deirdre M. Smith

The Society of Animal Artists is an association of international artists who depict nonhuman animals and wildlife scenes in 2-D and 3-D media. Founded in 1960, today there are 500 members living in 25 countries. The Society hosts an annual exhibition called Art and the Animal, and this year’s 63rd edition kicked off at the Stifel Fine Arts Center of the Oglebay Institute in Wheeling, West Virginia. The Society sought nearby artists and scholars to serve as judges and reached out to CMNH. As an art historian whose research often intersects with animal studies (including the question of whether nonhuman animals themselves can be called artists), I jumped at the opportunity to learn more about the Society and see their latest exhibition.

*The author with fellow judges Larry Barth and Julie Zickefoose at the artists’ reception for* Art and the Animal. Photograph by Walter Matia.

My fellow judges were Larry Barth and Julie Zickefoose, both accomplished animal artists themselves. Larry is an award-winning carver of birds in wood, and Julie paints and writes on birds and other animals, often in watercolor. I was interested to learn that both artists have connections to CMNH. Larry volunteered in the Section of Birds in the mid-1970s, and both artists have sketched study skins from the section’s collection. One of Larry’s impressively-detailed carvings, depicting a Ruffed Grouse, is on display today at Powdermill Nature Reserve.

*A view of second floor galleries of the Stifel Fine Arts Center during* Art and the Animal. Photograph by author.

The exhibition featured 116 works by as many artists. Nonhuman animal subjects was the overarching theme, but within that domain artists turned their attention to diverse species: from house cats to cheetahs, dairy cows to zebras, snakes, bears, a southern stingray, and many, many birds: avocets, falcons, herons, owls, penguins, woodcocks, a Eurasian hoopoe, the list goes on. The choices of style and medium were equally varied, from highly detailed, realistic paintings, to decorative cut paper compositions, and from humorous works to ones alluding to the precarious lives of all animals under present environmental crises.

Works from the exhibit: Left, Lisa Nugent’s Follow Me Into the Sea, a depiction of a southern stingray in soft pastels, which was selected for an Award of Excellence. Right, Elke Gröning’s Cozy Cuddling, a colored pencil image of two little red flying-fox bats. Photographs by author.

The judges were tasked with selecting up to eight works that stood out overall for “Awards of Excellence,” as well as four cash prizes. After lunch with Renée Bemis (President), Kim Diment (Vice President), and Wes Siegrist (Executive Director), where the bias against sculptors in the “fine arts” and apple foraging in Appalachia were topics of conversation, we began what ended up being a three-and-and-half-hour-long process of tough deliberations. We were instructed by the leadership of the Society not to let our opinions about a species impact our judgment, and to initially not look at the names of the artists. Otherwise, we were free to use our own best sense as to which works stood out as superlative. As judges we found ourselves balancing assessment of the artist’s technique, choice of medium, the extent to which they had accurately and compellingly captured their animal subject, with the overall visual and conceptual appeal of the work. Some of our most intense conversations and disagreements concerned bird anatomy (something Larry and Julie are expert in), what it means and matters to be “realistic,” and whether artists were bringing fresh perspectives to the genre of animal art.

Examples of work from the Carnegie Museum of Natural History’s Natural History Art collection. Left, a screech owl painted by George Miksch Sutton, ornithologist and former CMNH staff member. Right, a field sketch of a snake by Romeo Mansueti from 1939, who eventually became a professor at the Chesapeake Biological Laboratory at the University of Maryland. Photographs by author.

I felt primed for the task of judging the competition because I had spent the summer with CMNH volunteer Elizabeth Dragus going through each object in the museum’s Natural History Art collection, which features hundreds of naturalist illustrations made by artists, scientists, and several former CMNH staff between the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. Established in the early 1970s as the M. Graham Netting Animal Portraiture Collection, it is a treasure trove of images and sculptures of birds, fish, insects, mammals, and reptiles. Several artists in the collection are members of the Society.

*Rachelle Siegrist’s* Nature’s Incredible Water Filter, a watercolor painting of a freshwater mussel. Image credit, the Society of Animal Artists.

One work that received much commentary from the judges, and eventually an Award of Excellence, was Rachelle Siegrist’s Nature’s Incredible Water Filter, a petite (6 x 4 in.) charmer of a watercolor painting depicting a freshwater mussel leaving a trail in sand. The only bivalve subject in the whole show, the work equally stood out for the way the artist captured the patterns on the surface of the water above the mussel. In the statement that accompanies the image in the exhibition catalog, Siegrist shares details on the lives of freshwater mussels: their ability to filter bacteria and pollutants, their role as an “indicator species,” and the rising threat of extinction that these organisms face.

Animals of other species are the most enduring subjects of human image-making, stretching back to the oldest surviving image in a cave, the “Sulawesi pig.” Humans have made images of other animals in order to worship, marvel at, allegorize, objectify, and study them. Siegrist’s little painting demonstrates the power that this primordial practice of taking the time and effort to make an image of another animal can hold: she offers the viewer the opportunity to pause and contemplate a little being whose life might otherwise go unnoticed, or be inaccessible, and develop a new relationship to it through her act of representation.

Deirdre M. Smith is an Assistant Curator at Carnegie Museum of Natural History.

Carnegie Museum of Natural History Blog Citation Information

Blog author: Smith, Deirdre M.
Publication date: November 21, 2023

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