April is designated as National Poetry Month. I assume that designation is for the United States, but I figure that it might as well be for everywhere else as well. Poetry does not reside in one country. Arguably poetry does not reside in one month either, so…

Part of National Poetry Month is National Poetry Writing Month, or #NaPoWriMo. Poets are encouraged to write a poem each day of April. I have taken part in this during a number of recent Aprils, and you can see the (variable) results here. I write poems at other times too, but life gets in the way and, if nothing else, April forces me to pay attention to the world around me a bit more than normal.

This year, as everyone in the world knows, North America pretty much shut down in the middle of March due to COVID-19. One Friday in mid-March I was delivering an invertebrate zoology lab on insects (absolutely my wheelhouse) to about 50 undergraduates, and by the following Monday I was trying to figure out how to deliver the rest of the semester remotely. It was jarring for me as an instructor, and likely doubly so for my long-suffering students who then graciously put up with my attempts at online lecturing.

(Aside: Thank you all of my undergraduate and graduate students. I can’t ever fully express how much I appreciate you. I feel like crying as I type this.)

During some less fraught #NaPoWriMo Aprils, I have written whatever strikes my fancy on any given day. However this April was wall-to-wall COVID-19. April Fool’s Day was anything but fun foolery this year. Most– all! – of us were more concerned with not getting infected, and not getting our friends and family infected. We were indoors all day other than an afternoon walk. Those of us lucky enough to still have paying jobs were trying to navigate a new normal (I hate that overused term). Everyone was navigating a new normal (I still hate that overused term, but I’ll use it anyway). Going out for groceries took a level of planning that one might normally associate with  prepping for a military patrol in a hostile sector. We spent our mornings and afternoons listening to politicians and their associates – some more reputable (and ultimately more successful and curbing the effects of this pandemic) than others. No one knew what was next. To be honest, we still don’t.

So April 2020 presented a perfect foil for my #NaPoWriMo musings. During that month I put together a poem for each day, plus some photographs, that documented what was coming at me and my family. I don’t expect that my experiences were solitary. I’ve experienced quite a bit of craziness up to now in my middle-aged life, but nothing compares with this. Nothing has ever been as comprehensively global. Nothing has left me feeling that I could have similar discussions with someone in my local grocery store (socially distanced, of course) or a market in, say, Tanzania. Nothing has left me completely not knowing what’s next.

COVID-19 has added a level of stochasticity to our lives that juxtaposes with grinding monotony. That means that we often can’t tell one day from another even though each day feels completely whacked. In an attempt to emulate that uncertainty in verse, I used an app called Word Swag that takes short passages and randomizes the line structure. Most people use Word Swag to produce funky invitations and posters and the like. I used it to input my short COVID-19 poems and let it delineate line breaks for me. That resulted in internal rhyming, unexpected rhythms, and a sense of unpredictability imposed upon my short verses.

I have taken those #NaPoWriMo poems, along with a few of the photographs that I took during that early period of the pandemic, and have turned them into a chapbook.

I will mail you the chapbook for free, but in return I simply ask that you either:

1) donate any amount to a conservation-based charity of your choice, or

2) spend some time in natural area near to where you live – and that could, of course, range from some distant backcountry to an urban greenbelt a few hundred meters from your front door to your own pesticide-free lawn and garden. I’m not picky!

If you donate, please simply send me a PDF copy or screenshot of your donation receipt. If you spend time appreciating your local environment, just send me a photograph of your time spent.

You can DM me your photo or receipt or whatever at @docdez on Twitter or at Please send your name and snail 🐌 mail address as well so that I can send a copy.  

I will print a first edition of 25 chapbooks. If there’s more interest than that, I’ll print up editions in batches 25 or so after that. I will mail this to you wherever in the world you happen to be.

This pandemic, like virtually every human pandemic prior to this, was brought on due to conservation and food supply malpractice. Right now our valiant health care professionals are treating the acute symptoms that are devastating individuals and families. But we, as a global society, need to confront the direct causes so that this doesn’t happen again. Specifically, we need to stand against the pervasive materialist consumerism that has us encroaching upon nature, consuming beyond the planet’s capacity, and exploiting and degrading ecosystem services. Combine that with climate change, and the existential crisis that we now confront is beyond that ever faced by humanity. Our current generations – young, and old, and in-between – need to deal with this, or there will be no future generations to appreciate the beauty of our pale blue dot. Don’t let anyone fool you, this work will not be easy or short term. The current pandemic pales in comparison to dealing with the root causes.

At this moment, people are dying because of your and my and our ancestors’ selfish choices. This needs to end. It needs to end today. It should have ended yesterday, but today is better than tomorrow.

Your donations to conservation-based charities, and your time spent in nature make a true difference. Personal actions like these are the only way to treat the cause of the current pandemic, and others like it that are sure to follow in its morbid wake if nothing changes.

Writing these poems and letting an algorithm decide on the form was both a form of mourning and a catharsis for me. I hope that these poems and photographs can be of some use to you too.

Join the lab!

A PDF of this ad can be downloaded here.

We are seeking highly motivated students at graduate (M.Sc. and Ph.D.) and undergraduate levels to join our lab group as we begin NSERC-funded research into changes in arthropod biodiversity and community assemblages following massive disturbances in western Canadian forests.

British Columbia land area affected by mountain pine beetle, spruce beetle, and fire.

Background: British Columbia has recently been affected by insect infestations and fire. Mountain pine beetle infestations are currently declining in British Columbia due to depletion of the insect’s suitable hosts, but the beetles have now moved into novel hosts – hybrid and jack pines – in Alberta. They now threaten the remainder of Canada’s boreal forest. Spruce beetle infestations have increased substantially in recent years, particularly in the central interior of BC. The summers of 2017 and 2018 saw record-breaking fire activity in British Columbia, along with massive, catastrophic fires in other parts of western North America.

Research objectives: Bark beetle infestations and fire interact with each other, and with anthropogenic landscape modifications and climate change. This has caused major perturbations in forested ecosystems in the interior of British Columbia and in Alberta. The main objective of this research is to determine the effect of massive disturbance events on arthropod assemblages, their related ecological services, and resilience under a shifting climate regime. Other objectives include: (a) identifying indicator species that can be used by silvicultural managers to monitor future forest health and recovery; (b) creating species lists, along with vouchered specimens and data, as baseline natural history data in an under-surveyed region of Canada; and (c) detection and investigation of species of conservation concern, cryptic species, etc. Specifically, available projects include:

  • arthropod assemblages following mountain pine beetle infestation and during early recovery in British Columbia lodgepole pine forests.
  • shifts in arthropod assemblages following mountain pine beetle infestation in Alberta forests.
  • arthropod assemblages following spruce beetle infestation and early recovery in central British Columbia.
  • shifts in arthropod assemblages following recent massive fires in British Columbia’s central interior.

About UNBC: UNBC is a small, research-intensive university in the central interior of British Columbia. It is consistently recognized as one of the top small universities in Canada. The geographic location of the main campus, as well as the several regional campuses across northern and northwestern British Columbia, offer ample field research opportunities. UNBC also administers two research forests within close driving distance to the main campus, and a nearby research station on the Quesnel River.

UNBC maintains extensive, modern laboratory facilities including a molecular biology core facility and an environmental analytical lab. Researchers also have access to high-performance computing as well as comprehensive GIS infrastructure. Our insect ecology lab at UNBC, is accessible and well-supplied with field equipment, research vehicles, microscopes, and molecular biology equipment. A list of publications from our research group can be found here.

Prince George is the largest city in British Columbia’s central interior (population ~80,000) and supports the surrounding area with services ranging from education to comprehensive health care to shopping and other commercial activities. The city has active outdoor recreational, sporting, and cultural communities and there are always opportunities to get involved and meet others. For more information about things to do in and near the city, please see the Tourism Prince George website.

Study and stipend details: Undergraduate students interested in this work should be enrolled at UNBC in a relevant degree program. Most undergraduates will work as field assistants for graduate students. In some cases (honours thesis, undergraduate thesis, NSERC USRA), students will also work on their own project.

Graduate student degrees (Ph.D. and M.Sc.) will be run within the Natural Resources and Environmental Studies Institute at UNBC. More information about the NRESI and its graduate programs can be found here. 

Graduate students without external funding will be provided with stipends related to current NSERC graduate-level stipends. Direct funding will be provided for an average of six months each year, and students will usually be required to work as teaching assistants or find external funding beyond that. There are generally sufficient teaching assistant opportunities available in our department to ensure full yearly stipends. In addition, UNBC and the Province of British Columbia offer a variety of graduate scholarships to eligible students, and all Ph.D. students receive an automatic 100% tuition rebate for up to four years. Students who arrive with or bring in external funding will have their external stipends topped-up via available internal research funds.

Requirements: Successful graduate candidates must have an appropriate prior degree from a recognized university for admittance. Top candidates will be able to demonstrate a keen and continuing interest in insect ecology, biodiversity, and community ecology – previous research experience in these fields will be considered advantageous. Applicants should have prior field and lab research experience, as well as strong statistical/analytical capabilities. Applicants must be independent thinkers and must also demonstrate a solid grasp of the English language.

Ph.D. applicants will preferably have published (or recently submitted) one or more research papers in peer reviewed journals. Publishing experience will be considered an asset for M.Sc. applicants, but is not necessary.

Undergraduate applicants should have a strong interest in entomology and/or ecology, and a willingness to learn.

We encourage Indigenous people, visible minorities, diversely-abled people, women, and people from the LGBTQ2S+ communities to apply.

Initial application process: Graduate candidates should send the following application package to Dr. Dezene Huber at

  • a cover letter explaining background, skills, and interest in the project.
  • a CV listing items such as education, publications, science communication, professional presentations, and service work. Please include details about external scholarship funding that has been received or applied for.
  • contact details for two or three research scientists (academic, government, NGO, industrial/consulting, or otherwise) who would be willing to provide a reference.

Undergraduates should contact me via email and they do not need to submit a cover letter or CV.

The review of applications will be ongoing until candidates are found, but applying earlier is better for access to potential graduate scholarships, and to teaching assistantships.

Successful preliminary applicants will be invited to formally apply to UNBC.

Other useful links:

An Opportunity for gratitude

Being an entomologist means that my scientific point-of-view is literally down-to-earth much of the time. But like just about every scientist whom I know, I am completely fascinated by space exploration.

This morning, I read that Opportunity, one of NASA’s Mars rovers, has likely completed its mission. This is a big deal for a number of reasons, and in particular because the mission was only expected to last a few month but has gone on for 15 years. That, in itself, is a major engineering accomplishment. Add onto it all of the amazing research that has been done in that time, and you can see why this NASA mission was a roaring success.

I have, in the past, measured the temporal run of my scientific career in comparison to space missions. Voyager took me through my grade school years and is still going. The Mars Rovers have taken me through most of my postdoctoral and tenure track years. Opportunity launched in July of 2003, right as I was completing my first postdoctoral stint at UBC and was planning on moving to California for my second. Since then I have completed that second postdoc, landed a position at UNBC, and moved through the various professorial ranks.

But Opportunity, like all other space missions, and indeed all other science, is a great reminder that this entire endeavour of discovery is a massive team effort. And for me, hearing the news of Opportunity’s demise this morning (its last message was along the lines of “I’m running out of battery power and the darkness is closing in”) was a reminder for me of all those who I have to thank for helping to get me this far, and for working alongside me in the past and present.

I know that a list like this will never be complete, but I’m going to attempt it because fear of missing someone shouldn’t stop me from thanking these people. Please know that if I missed you, it was not intentional.

Of course some of my biggest thanks go to my mom and dad who encouraged my love of biology from a young age and who have been constantly there through the ups and downs of graduate school, uncertainty about ever landing a job, stress about the tenure track, and the various ups and downs that continue each year. I love you guys and I’m glad that you’re only a phone call or a reasonably short drive away.

Thanks to Dr. Gerrit Voordouw at the University of Calgary who took me into his lab for a couple of summers during my undergraduate zoology degree. That research experience, including my first publication, helped me to make my choice to work towards a career in the business of discovery. What an amazing opportunity!

Thanks to all of my undergraduate professors, and to a few in particular. Dr. Robert Barclay taught me how to integrate basic information into complex ideas in an animal behaviour course and whose lecturing chalk skills are phenomenal. Dr. Robert Longair and Dr. Ralph Cartar showed me the world of invertebrates and stamped my heart with a desire to learn more about them. Dr. Elisabeth Dixon told us about chemical ecology as a bit of an aside in her organic chemistry course one day, and at that moment sparked my lifetime fascination.

Thanks to Dr. John Borden, my Ph.D. advisor. John took a chance on an untested student straight out of his undergraduate degree. He told me that a Ph.D. is as much a process of maturation as it is of discovery. He provided guidance and funds and a continual stream of great ideas. He taught me how to be organized, how to prioritize multiple tasks, how to give an effective presentation, how to write a publication-worthy paper (depleting many red pens in the process), and how to approach the scientific endeavour with a continual smile. John, I truly appreciate your continued mentorship after all of these years.

Thanks, also, to a bunch of other academic mentors from my time as a Ph.D. student at Simon Fraser University, whether as graduate course instructors, or as instructors in courses that I TA-ed, or in other contexts. These individuals include Dr. Gerhard Gries, Ms. Regine Gries, Ms. Tammy McMullan, Dr. Mark Winston, Dr. Larry Dill, Dr. Bernie Crespi, Dr. Elizabeth Elle, and Dr. John Webster. You each taught me important things about natural history, about surviving in academia, about the practice of teaching, and about professionalism.

Thanks to Dr. Jörg Bohlmann for getting me involved in great projects that truly stretched my thinking and my technical capabilities during my postdoctoral time in his lab at UBC. Thanks also for all of our many past and ongoing collaborations, for our friendship, and for teaching me about approaching both basic and applied science with vigor, passion, professionalism, and kindness.

—We pause here for Opportunity’s launch, 7 July 2003.—

Thanks to Dr. Steve Seybold who gave me the opportunity to experience science in another country and to see how things operate outside of academia. Thanks also to Steve for demonstrating a deep commitment to getting the details correct and for exemplifying a love of forest natural history. Thanks to Dr. Chris Fettig who kept me going in non-host volatile work, who is an example of professionalism, and who continues to be a supportive colleague. Thanks to both Steve and Chris for their ongoing, valuable interactions that help to stretch my thinking and for their friendship.

Thanks to Dr. Staffan Lindgren who noticed my talk at a WFIWC meeting in San Diego and suggested that I apply for an open position at UNBC. Thanks, also, to Staffan for the years of mentorship that continue to this day even though he has retired to somewhat warmer climes. I miss you being here at UNBC, Staffan, but I’m glad that we get to see each other on occasion.

Thanks to UNBC for hiring me and for the many opportunities that I’ve had here over the past 13 years. Thanks to Dr. Keith Egger who was the Program Chair when I arrived and helped me to get my feet on the ground. Thanks to Dr. Kathy Lewis who has been the Program Chair for the majority of my time here at UNBC and who has been an amazing example of gracious, kind, and fair leadership. And thanks to my many colleagues at UNBC who have been great mentors and friends through the inevitable ups and downs (mostly ups!) of institutional life.

Thanks to my colleagues beyond the walls of UNBC who have encouraged me, collaborated with me, written proposals with me, published papers with me, organized symposia with me, tweeted with me, and had a beer or two with me. While not without faults (let’s work on those!) our community of entomologists and ecologists is something special.

And some of my biggest thanks to the many students, postdocs, and technicians whom I’ve worked with over the years. Some of you influenced my thinking (and continue to do so!) during my undergraduate, graduate, and postdoctoral years. Many of you have worked in my program or in the programs of close colleagues. Most advances in science happen because of hard work by those in the trenches, and I’m thankful to each of you with whom I’ve interacted with in various ways – as a peer, as a mentor, as an examiner…

And finally my definite biggest thanks to my wife, Joyel. We were married about a month after the launch of Opportunity, and we moved from BC to California almost immediately thereafter. I know that it’s not always easy being the spouse of an academic with the uncertainty about the next job, the moves to who-knows-where for said jobs, and generally weird (but thankfully generally flexible) schedules. There’s no way I could do the work that I do without your support.

I am certain that I’ve missed some people here, and this blog post will likely grow with edits over the years.

While Opportunity is now cold on Mars, my heart was warmed today thinking of all of you who have influenced me during its time of exploration.

Tragedy of the Climate Commons

Nobel-Laureate economist, Paul Romer, provides one of the best encapsulations of the Tragedy of the Commons that I’ve ever heard:

“We know that the market system doesn’t guide people in the right direction when their actions impose costs on others.”

In other words, the free market is great, except when it isn’t.

The “free” use of air and water to dispose of waste is not actually free. Pollution – like any other use of a common resource – imposes costs. But those costs are rarely exclusively placed on the polluter. Instead the cost is divided up among many who rely on that resource for one reason or another, most of whom don’t reap a profit.

The polluter – not owning the air or water – has no incentive to steward it. But the polluter does have a massive incentive to a free-riding profit if they are permitted to take that free ride.

When governments allow free riding, they are not allowing the free market to work – even if they say that they believe in free markets – because permitting the imposition of costs on others by the polluter is a subsidy to the polluter.

There are four ways to deal with a Tragedy of the Commons when privatization is not possible:

  1. Ignore the problem: but eventually the Commons is destroyed.
  2. Regulate it: this can work, but this is highly susceptible to intentional rigging in favor of some against others.
  3. Impose a cost on use of the Commons, since the Commons cannot be privatized. In a climate context, put a price on carbon emissions.
  4. Some combination of the above three options.

Option 3 is not without it’s potential issues, but has been proven to work over and over again in a variety of Commons contexts. This is basic economics, and basic game theory.

But option 3 also takes political will to implement. Our politicians know all of this, but it seems that many of them would rather play games with our future for the sake of realizing their short-term goals of power.

But wait a minute,” some say, “all we need to do is wait for carbon-removing technology to become efficient and usable, then polluters can pollute all they want and the scrubbers can just remove that plus past atmospheric carbon inputs. So let’s just get working on those technologies.

Yes, indeed, let’s do that. But this does not change the economic argument because at some point someone is going to have to pay for the R&D to create the technology, the materials and expertise to build it, and the expertise and energy to run it.

Even in this (rather hopeful) scenario, someone still has to pay, and not insisting that polluters pay is a subsidy to polluters.

(And, in this scenario, there is one more question: who pays to clean up carbon already added to the atmosphere by past polluters?)

A river’s voice: A review of “Skeena” by Sarah de Leeuw

I’ve spent a lot of time around rivers over the course of my decades – fly angling, research, hiking, contemplating. Rivers and streams are, in many ways, the circulatory system of our continents, and they ooze life of all sorts within their flow and along their banks. That riparian life has the tendency to make watercourses in forested areas fairly inaccessible. Forest rivers, in a way, nurture their own (in)accessibility. Any researcher or angler will tell you how valuable a bare few access points along many kilometers of a river can be.

There are three things that allow physical access along a flow. The first is the action of the river itself over time carving out seemingly fortuitous access points from the landscape. The second is the cycle of annual weather accompanied by long term climate change that sometimes leaves banks bare of water for intrepid hikers to walk below the high-water line. The third is both ancient and current human activity – the camps, villages, railroads, resource roads, clearcuts, pipeline crossings, and parallel highways that we build, inhabit, and use.

Dr. Sarah de Leeuw, a faculty member in the Northern Medical Program and Geography at UNBC, takes readers on a journey along the Skeena River, guiding us to access points along its course in her poetry in  Skeena (Caitlin Press, 2015). Along the journey, people, places, animals, plants, and soil weave through the river’s currents, around the roots of its trees, and into its riparian forests. 

We meet “Ephemeral ephemeroptera” and their “Sticky transparent/wings wet with our waters”. We feel “Invertebrates nuzzling my bowels”. We experience the “Taste of grizzly shit shot through with tannin/leached through peat”. And we smell the “stench of elk urine/sliding into me”. There’s the blinding pain of a mother moose’s “snapped leg” as its calf runs away alone, intermixed with the softness of “My surface silky with eagle down/thistle fluff.

There is death, and there is new life: “Our babies will grow/into men   fat with the fish    you lover/you mother/you will feed them.

Along the way we hear the stories of the river and by the river. Some of the stories are very old: “(A) story of three/young men felled by frogs    a story of Pelemqwae    the giant beaver who shot arrows/and felled a chief”. Others – the account of Ali Howard swimming the full length of the river in 2009 – are very new.

Early in the book – early along the course of the Skeena – the river asks us: “Who chose to name people?     Who chose?    The people?

And then the names along its length flow through the pages in eddies, ripples, and torrents: Wet’sinkwha, Edziza, Kispiox, Gitanmaax, “slow-and-full-of-water-with-lily-roots-thick-as-a-young-doe’s-knee-knuckle”.

Who, indeed, chose the names? Was it the river all along? In her prologue de Leeuw tells us that she has “written the river’s voice.” She has made the Skeena’s voice accessible and it flows into its listeners with each reading – leaving us filled with its sensations, stories, and sounds.