Essay

Got Milk?

Got Milk?
By Lindsey Konkel


There is a hollowed-out, fallen log on the SOC campus that every student of black bear ecology visits. One winter, a female black bear and her cubs hibernated here.

The students are always surprised to hear that female black bears give birth in the middle of winter, while hibernating. I too was pretty amazed when I first found this out. Lactation can be quite a costly proposition! How does the mother bear survive through the winter nursing her cubs while she is not eating herself?

I grew up in Wisconsin, where the license plates proclaim
America’s Dairyland. In my mind, images of milk are often associated with dairy products, but in the realm of animal nutrition, there is more to milk than Holsteins and milking machines.

Milk comes from cows, yes, but also from other animals – black bears, dolphins, horses, lions, and bats to name a few. In fact, all mammal mothers lactate – lactation, or milk production is a defining characteristic of mammals.

Lactation, which is unique to mammals, provides a method of transfer of nutrients from mothers to their youngsters. When mammals are born, they are quite dependent on their mothers, having not yet developed the structures necessary, such as teeth, to forage or hunt like adults of their species. Milk, composed of sugar, fat, protein, and water, gives the infant energy and helps it grow. Transfer of nutrients via milk allows for a delay in maturity, a longer growth period in which the infant stays with and learns from the mother.

Though mammals are united by the act of lactation, not all milk is the same; the composition of milk, including the amount of sugar, fat, protein, and water can vary greatly. Throughout the course of mammalian evolution, nursing strategies and milk composition have evolved to match the life-history of different mammalian species.

What does this have to do with our black bear mother and her cubs? A female black bear with nursing cubs rarely leaves the den to forage over the winter. She relies instead on stores of fat and energy that she has accumulated over the previous seasons. This poses a conflict. The female must provide enough energy-rich milk for her cubs to survive over the winter while at the same time retaining enough energy for herself, to keep her own organ systems working properly. Organs such as the brain require simple sugars like glucose to function.

Evolution’s solution is simple yet elegant. Mother bears produce high-fat milks that are low in sugar. This enables the female to retain stores of readily available simple sugars while at the same providing her cubs with energy-rich milk, enabling them to pack on the pounds. Weighing only a half a pound to a pound when they are born, bear cubs need to grow quickly in order to survive the winter. Milk is an evolved food, a compromise between what the mother can give and what the infant needs.

There are many other mammals besides bears living in the forest. Each species produces a slightly different milk that reflects its limitations and lifestyle. For example, there are many small rodents such as mice or voles living in the forest. Like black bears, these mammals tend to produce very dense, energy-rich milks, but for a different reason. Small species are limited in how much they can consume by the size of their stomachs; high-fat milk allows for the transfer of a large amount of energy in a small amount of milk.

Deer tend to fall on the opposite end of the spectrum, producing milk that is very low in fat. A fawn is rarely seen far from its mother’s side and is allowed to nurse several times a day. Because fawns grow slowly and nurse often, there is no rush for the mother to transfer large amounts of fat to the infant; the milk is dilute, containing mostly water and sugars.

Though New Jersey’s black bear and deer populations are doing quite well respectively, perhaps too well some would suggest, the study of milk composition has become an important component of many wildlife conservation projects. If the concern for a particular species is poor reproductive success or high infant mortality, then looking at milk is an obvious place to start.

Creativity Can't be Discounted!

Creativity Cannot be Discounted!
By
Lindsey Konkel, SOC Intern


I am standing on the barricaded road watching a group of sixth graders, new arrivals at the School of Conservation. They are on the clock – 12 minutes to complete their challenge. Standing on a fallen log, six inches off the ground, they are engaged in a lively debate about how to reverse their order on the log without anyone falling off. Their current strategy is not working - over and over again, they try to squeeze past one another, everyone remaining standing. Inevitably, before they finish, someone falls off the log.

They look to their teacher for advice, but her lips are sealed – this is a challenge for them to figure out as a group, on their own. The group becomes frustrated; they are running out of time. People start shouting to be heard. One quiet boy at the back of the line suggests they try leap-frogging over each other to cross the log; his idea falls on deaf ears. After a few more goes at the old way, the quiet boy speaks up again. “That idea will never work,” a few say. Eventually, the rest of the group persuades the nay-sayers try leap-frogging. Excitement builds as the team begins to make progress, working together toward a goal. Finally, in the last minute they are cooperating.

Most groups of students will have this experience at some point during their stay at the School of Conservation. The Action Socialization Experiences or ASEs as described, are a series of unique group challenges that stress communication and problem solving within the group. Students quickly learn that effective group communication involves speaking and listening, brainstorming and discussing. Cooperation and team building are the obvious goals of these exercises, but I have been asking myself, how else do ASEs enrich a visiting student’s environmental education experience?

I believe the answer lies in the quiet boy or girl with the seemingly eccentric idea that finally speaks up.
Creative thinking is a valuable part of this exercise and benefits both the individual and the group. So often, groups will stick with the same old strategy, even though it has proven inefficient time and again. Why? Maybe it is easier, more convenient than trying to think of a new plan – we are creatures of habit after all. ASEs are valuable because they encourage students to think outside the box to solve challenges, to engage their brains! Believe it or not, thinking can actually be fun.

So what does creative problem solving have to do with the environment? There are a lot of environmental issues on the table right now: pollution, global warming, and species extinctions to name a few. When it comes to addressing these issues as a local/national/global community, we seem to procrastinate as long as possible. We keep trying to squeeze past each other on that skinny log, and we keep falling off. It will require a lot of creative thinking and problem solving on all of our parts to figure out a way for us to live sustainably in nature. Creative thinkers, let’s share our ideas, let’s communicate and work together – we are on the clock.

Using the Senses by Lindsey Konkel

After spending countless hours in the windowless nutrition research lab handling animal milk and fecal samples at the National Zoo in Washington, DC this summer, I decided it was time for a change of scenery. Labor Day weekend, I made my way here, to the School of Conservation, to begin my career as an environmental educator. As an environmental educator, I facilitate experiences for middle-school aged children with the natural world, out of doors - the out of doors part is my favorite part. Working indoors, in the confines of a laboratory this summer made me realize how important the outdoors is to me.

Teaching in the outdoors is really a love affair with the senses. With so much to see, hear, smell, and touch, the outdoors is an ideal setting for learning about the natural world. Learning outdoors is an experience unlike any other that a schoolroom confined by walls can provide.

Perhaps the most exciting sense for the students (and me) to exercise in the out of doors classroom is touch. Positive experiences with touch at a young age can evoke fond memories later in life, memories that may later draw us back to the source of that pleasurable childhood experience, in this case, nature.

Earlier this week, as I led a group of sixth graders back through the woods after a rigorous and invigorating afternoon on the always popular Challenge Course, a small milky colored frog about the size of a quarter jumped across the trail in front of me. Quickly I snatched it up and held it tightly in my hand – one quick look at the brown X on its back told me that it was a Spring Peeper, a common species of frog in Stokes State Forest. I turned around and told the students that I had a frog in my hands. A small boy at the end of the line with wide eyes asked me, “Can I see it?”
“Sure, you can even hold it,” I said. His eyes grew even bigger.

I placed the tiny frog into his cupped hands. His lips curled to form a single word, “Cool.”
Cautiously, gently, he ran one finger over the frog’s cool, moist back. The Peeper sat tolerated this touch, sitting calmly for a moment before jumping from his hands to his shirt and out of sight into a pile of leaves.
“I have never seen a frog up close or held one before. That was so cool,” he later confided in me.
A feeling of touch, a sense of wonder, a place in nature - for me, this is what it’s all about.

Early Halloween? by Lindsey Konkel

“Halloween has come a bit early to Stokes State Forest,” I thought as I pulled onto Flatbrook Road to start my year at the School of Conservation. Giant gray cobwebs engulfed tree branches all along the road. I certainly wanted nothing to do with spiders that could make such frighteningly large webs.

I soon found out that the webs on the trees were not built by spiders at all but by moths, rather the caterpillar or larval stage of moths. The perpetrators in this case are pale, skinny caterpillars known as fall webworm. The adult moths deposit their egg masses which usually contain hundreds of eggs on the underside of leaves. When the webworms hatch in late summer and early fall, the larvae work together to spin a large silken web, enclosing the foliage that they will feed on. As they grow, the webworms expand the web to encase more leaves. When they have had their fill, the webworms pupate and fall to the ground, where they will over-winter in the fallen leaves.

Though their webs are intimidating, the webworm is rather harmless. Prevalent throughout North America, the webworm is known to feed on more than 100 species of forest and shade trees. In New Jersey, walnut, American elm, hickory, maple, and fruit trees are the preferred hosts. Although small trees may become completely encased by their webbing, and persistent infestation may lead to excessive defoliation and limb dieback among individual trees, the webworm is considered a forest pest of minor significance. Thus, the fall webworm garners little attention compared to more lethal forest parasites such as the gypsy moth and the hemlock woolly adelgid that are responsible for decimating large populations of trees in the Eastern United States.
Webworm