Hello everyone!
I apologize for neglecting the blog lately. I just got caught up in lots of little projects and by the time Friday rolled around, I wasn’t able to fully focus on a well-written post. Maybe I should blog throughout the week instead of the first day of the weekend. That’s actually part of the appeal of a blog, the random posting; doing something on a strict weekly basis seems more like a periodical newspaper or magazine. Bloggers post at all hours of the day, whenever the inspiration hits them, and I should embrace that attitude more often.
As I skim through the previous Ranger Mike Friday posts, it’s clear that the tone has changed. Rather than becoming a forum for communicating NPS science, it has become a forum about communicating NPS science. Specifically, my efforts and projects as a designer. This switch to a more personally-reflective perspective might not be a bad thing. With our network’s upcoming Fall Workshop (December 3-4), it would be wise for me to start putting down my thoughts on the role that design has in good scientific communication. Obviously, it is something that I believe strongly in and gives me more to contribute than my reports from the field. That’s just how my job has evolved and evolution’s okay, right!
Eventually, we’ll have an amazing official NPS blog for public consumption. It’ll have regular contributors from park scientists and field crews, tons of photographs, and maybe even a podcast or two. For now, however, I’m just going to set a good example for our park and network staff.
Friday, July 18, 2008
The "Face" of Ranger Mike Friday
This past Wednesday, around 4pm, I came across a buried treasure that only graphic designers would get truly excited about. As I explored its contents, I found myself staying in the office much later than I needed to be and when I finally went home, I couldn’t wait for work the next day to continue playing with my new treasures (isn’t that a great thing, to be excited to wake up and go to work?).
Q. What could possibly generate such enthusiasm and creative inspiration?
A. The official NPS map pictograms, as vector images, courtesy of the Harpers Ferry Center.
A brief lesson in digital images: Vector refers to a file type that relies on mathematical formulas to create shapes and therefore can be scaled to any size without distortion or awkward pixels. For designers who constantly have to scale the same images for different projects—for web, print publication, or billboards even—vector-based images make the job so much easier. And for me, the resulting smooth graphics works well with my personal style that is founded in balance, white-space, efficiency and clean-cut-ness (okay, I know that’s not a word). If anyone’s watched me work with Adobe Illustrator, he has witnessed a weird intuitive dance between my fingers on the keyboard, my wireless mouse, and the computer screen.
So finding all of these vector-based symbols, already created, is like suddenly finding myself able to speak another language. Or doubling one’s vocabulary. These are just more words for me to use in my visual language and I spent most of Thursday testing out how they feel.
(PS. I've printed these off as paper bookmarks, to send to our network staff as a reminder to "bookmark" this blog on their web-browser. I know, that's a pretty bad design pun)
Now Ranger Mike Friday has a logo, a symbol to represent who he is. It’s somewhat ambiguous and could represent anyone, and that’s the point. Ranger Mike Friday = National Park Service.
Just to show Ranger Mike doing a variety of activities, I added the hat to many common pictograms. I think my favorite are the random—but real—ones like “Showers Available” and “Golf Course.” Because the activities that I found are not specifically about scientific monitoring, I may be developing our own set of pictograms for the network (bird watching, snorkeling for fish assemblages, using a helicopter to monitor elk, etc).
Simplifying complex information into readable, usable graphics is becoming a common theme in my work and I enjoy this design challenge.
Q. What could possibly generate such enthusiasm and creative inspiration?
A. The official NPS map pictograms, as vector images, courtesy of the Harpers Ferry Center.
A brief lesson in digital images: Vector refers to a file type that relies on mathematical formulas to create shapes and therefore can be scaled to any size without distortion or awkward pixels. For designers who constantly have to scale the same images for different projects—for web, print publication, or billboards even—vector-based images make the job so much easier. And for me, the resulting smooth graphics works well with my personal style that is founded in balance, white-space, efficiency and clean-cut-ness (okay, I know that’s not a word). If anyone’s watched me work with Adobe Illustrator, he has witnessed a weird intuitive dance between my fingers on the keyboard, my wireless mouse, and the computer screen.
So finding all of these vector-based symbols, already created, is like suddenly finding myself able to speak another language. Or doubling one’s vocabulary. These are just more words for me to use in my visual language and I spent most of Thursday testing out how they feel.
(PS. I've printed these off as paper bookmarks, to send to our network staff as a reminder to "bookmark" this blog on their web-browser. I know, that's a pretty bad design pun)
Now Ranger Mike Friday has a logo, a symbol to represent who he is. It’s somewhat ambiguous and could represent anyone, and that’s the point. Ranger Mike Friday = National Park Service.
Just to show Ranger Mike doing a variety of activities, I added the hat to many common pictograms. I think my favorite are the random—but real—ones like “Showers Available” and “Golf Course.” Because the activities that I found are not specifically about scientific monitoring, I may be developing our own set of pictograms for the network (bird watching, snorkeling for fish assemblages, using a helicopter to monitor elk, etc).
Simplifying complex information into readable, usable graphics is becoming a common theme in my work and I enjoy this design challenge.
Mmm, pie
I just realized that I’m balancing so many projects right now: a suite of basic information graphics for the network, mountain lake graphics, creating the visual graphic identity and style guide for the North Coast and Cascades Network, the interactive map web-resource, assisting in our upcoming video modules, helping redesign the NCCN websites, blogging, brainstorms on a poster series, presence on a social-networking site, podcasts… How did I get my fingers in so many pies? Fortunately, I love pie; I just need to set strict deadlines when I have to finish eating each one.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Interactive Vital Sign Map
One of my projects this summer is to develop a web-resource that introduces the 9 Vital Signs. One will be able to navigate through the site by clicking on the the circle logos at top. Bold yellow circles then appear on the map to the left and show at which national park units we monitor each natural resource. In addition to being a simple graphic that shows where each vital sign occurs, a text box on the right explains, succinctly, why the vital sign is important and the current trend/status. Quick facts and stats appear at the bottom. Finally, depending on how thorough we want this web-resource to become, there could be links to other multimedia and communication projects (podcasts, photo galleries, etc).
Friday, July 11, 2008
Sketchbook Inspiration
Here's a little glimpse into the mind of a designer. In my sketchbook, I keep a collection of what I would consider good design- not even graphic design per se; fashion, architecture, color schemes...it's all bits of inspiration that helps trigger ideas for future projects.
What National Park Science Means to Me
From our first guest contributor!
Hi, I’m Jerry Freilich, Research Coordinator at Olympic National Park. I’m also head of the North Coast & Cascades Research Learning Network, the organization Michael Liang has been working with to improve science communication in Northwest National Parks. Michael invited me to contribute to his blog. I’ve been with the Park Service for 18 years in six National Parks working as a law enforcement ranger, naturalist, field biologist, and now as a science administrator.
This summer, Michael has been artfully helping us turn some of the national parks’ Inventory & Monitoring results into clear, understandable language for non-technical audiences. This is important work. After all, taxpayers pay for our national parks and they won’t be concerned about the national parks unless they’re aware of problems national parks face. Beginning in the 90’s, national parks began monitoring their resources with the goal of detecting human-induced changes. Michael’s efforts have centered on communicating the results of that monitoring. So I thought I’d offer some comments on how these results are actually produced. What does it take to run a monitoring program? And what drives researchers to the Herculean effort required to make this happen?
When you read that spotted owls are declining or that exotic weeds are increasing, these terse facts may seem trivial or unrelated to day-to-day problems. And the results conceal the great difficulty required to gain that information. It’s funny, but the public seems to view science with reverent detachment. Perhaps they picture that park scientists wear white lab coats and walk around in spacious labs gently shaking test tubes. The more likely picture is a spotted owl researcher, some rain-drenched soul, clinging to a steep, forested hill slope. Or a drier but equally agonized biologist struggling for the fifth consecutive hour over some ghastly multivariate analysis as the clock ticks relentlessly towards the reporting deadline. Hard data are called that for a reason! Because they’re hard to get. Not only is being a National Park scientist not an “ivory tower joy ride” but what many don’t realize is that science is actually a form of battle, fought with numbers and peer reviewed publications.
Theoretically, monitoring plants and animals should be relatively straightforward. The team goes out, counts the birds, comes back to the office and writes down what they saw. Simple, right? It isn’t so. The whole process is fraught with peril from beginning to end. So you want to study aquatic insects? Well, what method do you use to do this? What are the biases of the 10 different possible methods? What are the experimental assumptions of each method? What statistical method should be used to analyze the data? Is it even possible to gather enough data to produce a properly replicated, statistically valid result? How many samples are needed to detect a change of ± 15% with greater than 90% probability of being correct? Is the thing worth doing at all if your chances of finding a significant result are unlikely until the 5th year of the study? The 20th year? Enormous, contentious arguments even among well-meaning specialists in a given field can chew up years of precious time before the monitoring even gets underway.
Just as an example, I worked on threatened desert tortoises at Joshua Tree National Park in California for six years. Everyone seemed to agree that the tortoises were disappearing. But documenting the decline requires a valid, repeatable field method. When I first met with Park biologists from the other parks with tortoises they all said, “well, let’s just use the easiest method, count them, and we’ll report the results.” Alas, for better or worse, my research specialty was determining the sensitivity of different methods used for counting the tortoises. To make a very long story short, after years of work, dozens of meetings, and four publications in peer reviewed journals, I am here to tell you that there is STILL no known method for accurately counting desert tortoises in areas where they occur at low densities (which accounts for most of the Mohave desert).
So why do we do this? It’s not just because these data we gather, analyze, and present are things we would like to know. They are things we must know in order to “preserve and protect [the parks] for the enjoyment of future generations,” as our organizing legislation commands. Moreover, scientific information is a tool – a weapon actually – that can be used against those who would degrade park resources purposely, or more often, out of ignorance. Although hard data are hard to get, knowledge is power. Carefully constructed research holds up very well in board rooms and in court. Thoughtful use of monitoring data can not only help managers make informed decisions – it can also influence the tone of public discourse – in the local press or when combined with data from other parks and passed on to Congress.
When we hear about science news in magazines or on TV the daunting mathematical and technical realities are frequently relayed in a cutesy or sugary way intended to shield folks from scary technical things they would not understand. But it shouldn’t be this way and it doesn’t have to be. The best nature educators know how to explain complex things plainly. And the most important thing is to never forget the reasons we go to the incredible lengths of doing this work.
To me, being a scientist is an expression of the utter passion I have for living things. It is my opportunity to spend hours reading technical papers and researching how nature works. It is an excuse to learn the Latin names of countless plants, birds, and bees. But most importantly it is a tool that ‘speaks truth to power.’ Science is my way of working to protect living things big and small.
Hi, I’m Jerry Freilich, Research Coordinator at Olympic National Park. I’m also head of the North Coast & Cascades Research Learning Network, the organization Michael Liang has been working with to improve science communication in Northwest National Parks. Michael invited me to contribute to his blog. I’ve been with the Park Service for 18 years in six National Parks working as a law enforcement ranger, naturalist, field biologist, and now as a science administrator.
This summer, Michael has been artfully helping us turn some of the national parks’ Inventory & Monitoring results into clear, understandable language for non-technical audiences. This is important work. After all, taxpayers pay for our national parks and they won’t be concerned about the national parks unless they’re aware of problems national parks face. Beginning in the 90’s, national parks began monitoring their resources with the goal of detecting human-induced changes. Michael’s efforts have centered on communicating the results of that monitoring. So I thought I’d offer some comments on how these results are actually produced. What does it take to run a monitoring program? And what drives researchers to the Herculean effort required to make this happen?
When you read that spotted owls are declining or that exotic weeds are increasing, these terse facts may seem trivial or unrelated to day-to-day problems. And the results conceal the great difficulty required to gain that information. It’s funny, but the public seems to view science with reverent detachment. Perhaps they picture that park scientists wear white lab coats and walk around in spacious labs gently shaking test tubes. The more likely picture is a spotted owl researcher, some rain-drenched soul, clinging to a steep, forested hill slope. Or a drier but equally agonized biologist struggling for the fifth consecutive hour over some ghastly multivariate analysis as the clock ticks relentlessly towards the reporting deadline. Hard data are called that for a reason! Because they’re hard to get. Not only is being a National Park scientist not an “ivory tower joy ride” but what many don’t realize is that science is actually a form of battle, fought with numbers and peer reviewed publications.
Theoretically, monitoring plants and animals should be relatively straightforward. The team goes out, counts the birds, comes back to the office and writes down what they saw. Simple, right? It isn’t so. The whole process is fraught with peril from beginning to end. So you want to study aquatic insects? Well, what method do you use to do this? What are the biases of the 10 different possible methods? What are the experimental assumptions of each method? What statistical method should be used to analyze the data? Is it even possible to gather enough data to produce a properly replicated, statistically valid result? How many samples are needed to detect a change of ± 15% with greater than 90% probability of being correct? Is the thing worth doing at all if your chances of finding a significant result are unlikely until the 5th year of the study? The 20th year? Enormous, contentious arguments even among well-meaning specialists in a given field can chew up years of precious time before the monitoring even gets underway.
Just as an example, I worked on threatened desert tortoises at Joshua Tree National Park in California for six years. Everyone seemed to agree that the tortoises were disappearing. But documenting the decline requires a valid, repeatable field method. When I first met with Park biologists from the other parks with tortoises they all said, “well, let’s just use the easiest method, count them, and we’ll report the results.” Alas, for better or worse, my research specialty was determining the sensitivity of different methods used for counting the tortoises. To make a very long story short, after years of work, dozens of meetings, and four publications in peer reviewed journals, I am here to tell you that there is STILL no known method for accurately counting desert tortoises in areas where they occur at low densities (which accounts for most of the Mohave desert).
So why do we do this? It’s not just because these data we gather, analyze, and present are things we would like to know. They are things we must know in order to “preserve and protect [the parks] for the enjoyment of future generations,” as our organizing legislation commands. Moreover, scientific information is a tool – a weapon actually – that can be used against those who would degrade park resources purposely, or more often, out of ignorance. Although hard data are hard to get, knowledge is power. Carefully constructed research holds up very well in board rooms and in court. Thoughtful use of monitoring data can not only help managers make informed decisions – it can also influence the tone of public discourse – in the local press or when combined with data from other parks and passed on to Congress.
When we hear about science news in magazines or on TV the daunting mathematical and technical realities are frequently relayed in a cutesy or sugary way intended to shield folks from scary technical things they would not understand. But it shouldn’t be this way and it doesn’t have to be. The best nature educators know how to explain complex things plainly. And the most important thing is to never forget the reasons we go to the incredible lengths of doing this work.
To me, being a scientist is an expression of the utter passion I have for living things. It is my opportunity to spend hours reading technical papers and researching how nature works. It is an excuse to learn the Latin names of countless plants, birds, and bees. But most importantly it is a tool that ‘speaks truth to power.’ Science is my way of working to protect living things big and small.
Saturday, July 5, 2008
Happy Fourth of July!
Ranger Mike is taking the day off.
But he make put up some posts anyway later in the weekend.
Get outside and enjoy the beautiful weather!
But he make put up some posts anyway later in the weekend.
Get outside and enjoy the beautiful weather!
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