Remembering Martha Christensen.

In 1982, when I started as a grad student in botany at the University of Wyoming, my familiarity with fungi was limited. I knew of only two kinds: mushrooms and yucky crud (like athlete’s foot). But that’s not why I took Mycology. Few botany courses were offered that would fulfill my grad requirements, so when someone told me Mycology was “a really good class,” I signed up. It was a great choice, one that has benefitted me for 35 years.

By the time the semester ended, we had been immersed in the mind-boggling taxonomy of fungi, and exposed to the many critical roles fungi play in plant growth and ecosystem health. We experienced economic mycology: bread, beer (beer in class didn’t raise eyebrows then), cheese, tempeh and more. Especially intriguing to me was the discovery that soil microfungi in Wyoming basins include tundra species! These are Pleistocene periglacial relics, from times not so long ago (circa 10,000 years) when today’s short-grass prairies were permafrost and tundra.

But the best part of Mycology was the instructor, Dr. Martha Christensen. On the first day of class, we were taken in by her passion for the subject and her sense of humor. It was a semester filled with new knowledge, camaraderie, and lots of fun. I went on to take Martha’s Algae and Bryophytes, and was her teaching assistant for Man, Agriculture and Civilization, a non-majors course. I don't remember exactly what was taught in that course, but I’ve thought of it many times in the 30+ years since, because of one very useful piece of advice. We were frantically preparing for lab while the clock raced towards 1:10, when Martha noted with a smile: “This is just like fixing dinner for lots of guests: get as much done as you can, then quit worrying and enjoy it!”

The next year, when my advisor announced he wouldn't be available for my defense and seminar, Martha agreed to serve as committee chair. I’m not sure why I was so lucky, probably just timing, but it felt like Fortune had kindly intervened.

Those grad student days were the start of a long enjoyable friendship. But then last week Martha shocked everyone by passing away. She was 85, but still so full of enthusiasm and energy, and so busy with life, that death was unimaginable. The days since have been a time of reminiscing and sharing stories.
Martha had a long list of academic achievements. When I read her obituary and a recent tribute by one of her colleagues, I realized how little I knew about her career. That’s because our friendship was based on other mutual interests: outdoor recreation, conservation, and music. Martha’s interests were broad, and though an academic, she found time for them all. Sometimes it seems those days are gone. Is academic pressure now too great? Is there no longer time for the arts, public service, advocacy?

Martha played the viola, as do I. I love her story—told with her characteristic hearty chuckle—about how being a violist helped her land a professorship in the Botany Department. She was sure she was hired partly because several faculty members and their wives were fans of classical music and supporters of the University symphony orchestra—which was in desperate need of a good violist. Martha found herself sitting first chair (in a section of three!) and would play with the UWSO for thirty years. Though she loved classical music, and was especially fond of opera, she was no snob. Martha also played the saw!—entertaining us at departmental Christmas parties.

There was another side to Martha that we appreciated very much … and still do. She was a major advocate for public lands conservation in Wyoming, contributing both time and financial support. This is a tough place to be a conservationist; it’s easy to get burned out. But Martha persisted. That she loved nature and the out-of-doors was always clear. In retirement, she took great pleasure in visiting natural areas in the US and other parts of the world, always exploring, always learning. I looked forward to hearing of her latest adventures in our annual Christmas correspondence, for her contagious enthusiasm never disappeared!

Martha was one of the conservationists profiled in Ahead of their Time; Wyoming Voices for Wilderness.

In September (date to be set), Martha's many colleagues, students and friends will gather in Laramie to celebrate her life. More information will be provided on the University of Wyoming Botany Department website.

This picture is worth 620 words! (Click on map and those below to view details.)

When our Black Hills Montane Grasslands paper appeared in the December 2016 issue of The Prairie Naturalist, I was really happy—happy to see it in print after years of work, and happy to see the map in color. I’m so glad South Dakota Game, Fish and Parks was willing to pay the extra $500. We badly needed color to drive home our message … and a clear strong message is the whole point of using an infographic.

But is this really an infographic? … or just a map?

According to the Oxford English Dictionary, an infographic is “a visual image such as a chart or diagram used to represent information or data.” The term came into use in the 1960s, originally as an adjective. Infographics include maps as well as charts, diagrams, networks and such. When a map emphasizes certain features (e.g. with symbols or colors) to show a situation, trend or pattern, it becomes an infographic.

Such maps (also called thematic maps) have been around far longer than the term “infographic.” The first that we know of was created in 1604 by Gerardus Mercator, to show religions of the world. He added symbols to various locations for the predominant religion. There was no need to refer to a list or table, because the viewer could see the situation at a glance (for example, the New World is filled with idol worshippers).

Designatio-Orbis-Christiani; David Rumsey Map Collection.

Part of legend, showing Mercator's choice of symbols.

A more powerful thematic map is one that Abraham Lincoln is said to have spent hours studying—Map Showing the Distribution of the Slave Population of the Southern States. Based on 1860 census data, counties were shaded according to the size of the slave population (darker – larger). A viewer sees immediately which parts of the region were heavily-dependent on slave labor.

Distribution of the Slave Population of the Southern States of the United States; source.

The Slave Population map played such an important role that it was included in the 1864 painting, First Reading of the Emancipation Proclamation of President Lincoln, by FB Carpenter (below, lower right; source).
In general, images are far more powerful than words. They grab our attention, and we process them “with alarming speed.” The brain can interpret a picture on the spot, whereas text must be processed linearly (more here). So if a message is amenable to being communicated with an image, that’s the way to go. A good infographic quickly shows a situation that would require many words to explain. As I worked on the grassland map, I found myself wishing I could skip the corresponding verbal explanation entirely. It would have saved me 620 words!

In creating the grassland thematic map, I had to figure out how to quickly and clearly communicate the message hidden in the massive amount of information we collected:

Black Hills Montane Grassland is a rare and endangered vegetation type endemic (limited) to the Black Hills of western South Dakota and northeastern Wyoming. Only eight mostly-native stands remain. All occur in an area of less than 35 square miles, on public land managed for multiple use. These should be managed as conservation sites.

We had the data to prove it. We thoroughly surveyed the high Limestone Plateau for Black Hills Montane Grasslands, finding 91. We evaluated and ranked each one based on size, vegetation quality (% native species), disturbances, and condition of the surrounding landscape. We found only eight A- or B-ranked grasslands. Only 10.5% of original habitat (based on presence of relic indicator species) now supports native Black Hills Montane Grassland.

After testing various symbol schemes on my colleagues, I settled on colored circles, one in the center of each grassland. Circle size indicates grassland size (three categories). Circle color indicates grassland quality (overall rank). The color scheme is intuitive: circles for the best grasslands are green, those for the worst are brown.

Only eight green and yellow grasslands remain! Fortunately, some are large.

Early on, I tried to come up with an effective black-and-white map to save money. But it was impossible to find symbols that stood out. Colors are much easier for the viewer to distinguish than shapes, which was the other choice for quality. Finally, color grabs the reader, especially in a black-and-white setting (ours is the only color figure in the issue). Fortunately, when our funding agency saw the color map, they quickly agreed color was the way to go.

I recently learned that our grassland thematic map is specifically a proportional symbol map—like Charles Joseph Minard's 1858 map about meat (livestock) sent to Paris butcheries from across France. Minard also used circles of various sizes, in this case to represent amounts of meat. The circles themselves are little infographics—pie charts, with colors representing types of meat.

Source includes much more about Minard’s famous and powerful infographics.

We dedicated our grassland paper to our late colleague and friend, Helen McGranahan (below, in white shirt). Her concern for Black Hills Montane Grasslands, her expertise in grassland biology and management, and her wonderful sense of humor are greatly missed!

Botanists at work in the Black Hills, 2011.

Sources (in addition to links in post)
Marriott, HJ, Faber-Langendoen, D, and Ode, DJ. 2016. Finding the best remaining Black Hills Montane Grasslands, the first step in conservation. The Prairie Naturalist 48:102-105. The paper will be available soon (and free) at The Prairie Naturalist archives. In the meantime, email me (see Contact tab), or download here (paste into browser bar): file:///Users/hollismarriott/current%20work/BHMG/BHMG2016/0PNATfinalrevision/BHMGMarriott%20102-105.pdf

Our colleague and friend Helen McGranahan passed away last weekend ... while gardening.  We console ourselves -- “better to go quickly doing what we love, than to slowly waste away in some institution” -- but it’s hard not to feel terrible about it.  This was a neat person who was excited about life, interested in many cool things, and off on new adventures after a career in resource management with Federal agencies.  As Helen put it, she was “a recovering Tri-Fed Confirmed Wing-nut.”

Helen, Sparky and Beth monitor grassland utilization with a Robel pole.

Black Hills Montane Grassland Strike Force; Helen in white.  Photo by Dave Ode.

“In the current, deeply divided political climate it seems that people can easily be assigned to one of two major camps just because of what they do for a living.  Botanists, archaeologists, and wildlife biologists tend to get thrown into the wacko-liberal-terrorist-camp (a.k.a. blockers), while other natural resource professionals such as foresters, range cons, geologists, loggers, miners and others who make their livings from resource extraction are the sane, level-headed stewards of the land.  However, after a career in natural resource management I can attest that there are plenty of moderate botanists, archaeologists, and wildlife biologists in the world.  I am one of them.”

So am I.  Likewise, I share Helen’s message to all “screaming liberals and confirmed conservatives” --

“You're not only controlling the lives of moderates, but boring us stiff too!  Get your acts together before it's too late!”

You can read more about Helen in Frank Carroll’s tribute in the Rapid City Journal:  The Hills were her garden.

Cones of the monoecious ponderosa pine -- “Boys and Girls Co-habitating.”  Photo by Helen McGranahan.