2 . We Need to Think about Conservation on a Different Timescale

Time, perceived by humans in days, months, and years, contrasts with nature’s grander scales of centuries and millennia, referred to as “deep time.” While paleontologists (古生物学者) are trained to think in deep time, conservationists are realizing the challenges it poses. Shortsightedness about time limits modern conservation, with efforts often overlooking past healthy conditions of ecosystems in the context of climate and biodiversity crises.

The shifting baseline syndrome (综合症), where standards in a place change gradually, makes conservation more complex. It involves evaluating ecosystems primarily on their recent past, often with negative consequences.

Recent shifts in California’s forest management practices, from stopping fires to embracing Indigenous knowledge of controlled burns, exemplify the importance of understanding historical ecosystem dynamics. To enhance conservation, adopting a deep-time approach is crucial.

Modern mathematical modeling, combined with long-term data, offers a pathway for preserving ecosystems. In California’s kelp (海带、海藻) forest, researchers identified an overlooked keystone species — the extinct Seller’s Sea Cow (大海牛). By examining past kelp forests, a deeper story impacting regeneration was revealed. The sea cow, a massive plant-cater, contributed to a diverse, vital undergrowth by trimming kelp and letting light reach the area.

The researchers put forward a novel approach to kelp forest restoration: selectively harvesting kelp, imitating the sea cow’s impact. This strategy, considering historical dynamics, challenges assumptions about recent ecosystems and offers new conservation methods.

Rather than only focusing on removing urchins (海胆) or reintroducing sea otters, the researchers suggest employing teams of humans to selectively harvest kelp, as the Steller’s sea cow once did, to encourage fresh growth. This sustainable harvest could benefit both the ecosystem and human consumption.

In short, assumptions based on the recent past may impede the understanding and protection of ecosystems. On the other hand, the application of controlled burns, similar modeling studies, and a deep-time perspective (视角) could significantly transform conservation efforts. Recognizing our role in an ongoing narrative spanning millions of years is essential, urging a comprehensive understanding of ecosystems through time. Embracing this role is crucial for shaping the future and establishing vital connections from the past to the future.

5 . On March 7, 1907, the English statistician Francis Galton published a paper which illustrated what has come to be known as the “wisdom of crowds” effect. The experiment of estimation he conducted showed that in some cases, the average of a large number of independent estimates could be quite accurate.

This effect capitalizes on the fact that when people make errors, those errors aren’t always the same. Some people will tend to overestimate, and some to underestimate. When enough of these errors are averaged together, they cancel each other out, resulting in a more accurate estimate. If people are similar and tend to make the same errors, then their errors won’t cancel each other out. In more technical terms, the wisdom of crowds requires that people’s estimates be independent. If for whatever reasons, people’s errors become correlated or dependent, the accuracy of the estimate will go down.

But a new study led by Joaquin Navajas offered an interesting twist (转折) on this classic phenomenon. The key finding of the study was that when crowds were further divided into smaller groups that were allowed to have a discussion, the averages from these groups were more accurate than those from an equal number of independent individuals. For instance, the average obtained from the estimates of four discussion groups of five was significantly more accurate than the average obtained from 20 independent individuals.

In a follow-up study with 100 university students, the researchers tried to get a better sense of what the group members actually did in their discussion. Did they tend to go with those most confident about their estimates? Did they follow those least willing to change their minds? This happened some of the time, but it wasn’t the dominant response. Most frequently, the groups reported that they “shared arguments and reasoned together”. Somehow, these arguments and reasoning resulted in a global reduction in error. Although the studies led by Navajas have limitations and many questions remain, the potential implications for group discussion and decision-making are enormous.

That’s all, thank you.

I was invited to a cookout on an old friend’s farm in western Washington. I parked my car outside the farm and walked past a milking house which had apparently not been used in many years. A noise at a window caught my attention, so I entered it. It was a hummingbird (蜂鸟), desperately trying to escape. She was covered in spider-webs (蛛网) and was barely able to move her wings. She ceased her struggle the instant I picked her up.

With the bird in my cupped hand, I looked around to see how she had gotten in. The broken window glass was the likely answer. I stuffed a piece of cloth into the hole and took her outside, closing the door securely behind me.

When I opened my hand, the bird did not fly away; she sat looking at me with her bright eyes. I removed the sticky spider-webs that covered her head and wings. Still, she made no attempt to fly. Perhaps she had been struggling against the window too long and was too tired? Or too thirsty?

As I carried her up the blackberry-lined path toward my car where I kept a water bottle, she began to move. I stopped, and she soon took wing but did not immediately fly away.

Hovering (悬停), she approached within six inches of my face. For a very long moment, this tiny creature looked into my eyes, turning her head from side to side. Then she flew quickly out of sight.

During the cookout, I told my hosts about the hummingbird incident. They promised to fix the window. As I was departing, my friends walked me to my car. I was standing by the car when a hummingbird flew to the center of our group and began hovering. She turned from person to person until she came to me. She again looked directly into my eyes, then let out a squeaking call and was gone. For a moment, all were speechless. Then someone said, “She must have come to say goodbye.”

A few weeks later, I went to the farm again.

I was just about to leave when the hummingbird appeared.