The School of Biological Sciences Newsletter

April 2000 issue

From the HoS	SOBs Script
Publications	Professor Michael Pitman
Building Update	Head of School's Report
Please Don't Pee in Our Hut; Madagascar, a Way of Life

 

 

From the Head of School

 

 

 

 

Head of School's Report

HEAD OF SCHOOL'S REPORT

Staffing
Academic

Professor A W Larkum formally retired from the University on March 3.

Associate Lectureships/Lectureships (vice Harvey, vice Danckwerts)
Interviews/presentations will be held soon.

General
A request to advertise the vice Jacobs position as an HEO Level 6 appointment has been forwarded to the Dean.

Ms Ros Malin will be moving to A08 shortly and working for the Head of School and the Chair of the Teaching Committee. Her current position in A12 has been advertised (as 0.6FTE) and closes on 30 March. The move will occur as soon as the position is filled; until that time, she will work Mondays and Tuesdays in A08 and Wednesdays - Fridays in A12.

Honorary Appointments

Honorary Associate
Dr Lars Jermiin (nominated by Professor Larkum)
Dr Ken Wolfe (nominated by Professor Larkum)

Visiting Scholar
Professor Alan Richmond (nominated by Professor Larkum)

Grant received

Australian Geographic Society
Ms S Ricci: $1,000

 

 

Emeritus Professor Michael George Pitman

Mike Pitman's research, which he vigorously pursued throughout his years at Sydney, incorporated the developing knowledge of ion and mineral movements in single cells into a physiological understanding of ion balance in whole plants. He can justifiably be said to have been a founder of the modern approach to the physiology of mineral nutrition, and he summarised his conclusions in a series of widely quoted reviews, published while he was in our School. His research was recognised with the award of a Doctor of Science from Cambridge. As well as bringing a rigorous mathematical and theoretical analysis to the subject, Michael Pitman was interested in practical problems: for example he led the research which (with the work of colleagues) established the cause of decline of the famous Norfolk Island Pines on Sydney beachfronts and indicated the preventative measures which have now been implemented.

Michael Pitman was an enthusiastic and innovative teacher: in those days the latest thing in first-year teaching method was television, and Mike used its potential fully with time-lapse of plant movements and in-lab scenes of experiments in progress. In higher years Mike would surprise students by producing his pocket calculator in mid-lecture and calculating the consequences of what he had described on the spot, and he worked throughout his time here to bring to students the mathematical understanding of biology that permeated his research. His ex-graduate students occupy influential places in plant physiology and related applied fields today. Michael Pitman's influence in education extended beyond the University, through his editorship of 'The Web of Life', the high-school textbook which was important in modernising the teaching of biology throughout Australia.

As Professor in our School, Michael Pitman showed the consultative and collegiate aspects of his nature that - according to his later colleagues - were important features of his administrative work elsewhere. He was an influential member of the Academic Board. While at Sydney he was President of the Australian Museum Trust and Chairman of the Royal Botanic Gardens and Domain Trust, as well as being on the council of AIMS and other national bodies. Michael Pitman was made OBE and elected to the Australian Academy of Science during the time he was in our School.

Mike Pitman's career after he left Sydney was one of importance on the national and international scene. He left us to become Director of the CSIRO Institute of Biological Sciences, and then became in turn Deputy Chief Executive of CSIRO, Chief Science Advisor to DITAC, and Chief Scientist. In this latter role he chaired the Cooperative Research Centres Committee. He became Foreign Secretary of the Australian Academy of Science in 1997 and improved scientific rapport with several countries in south-east Asia, and especially established better relationships with France - an achievement which was recognised by the honour of the Chevalier de l'Ordre national du Mérite from the French Government.

Throughout his career Mike was strongly supported by his wife Maureen. They had two children, Adrian and Brigit, and they made many members of the School welcome in their relaxed and congenial family circle. All who knew Mike were saddened to learn of the severe illness which eventually led to his death. Mike's funeral was on 3 April 2000 in Canberra.

 

 

Building Update

 

 

Publications

 

SOBScript

 

Staff Profile; Yvonne Davila

I started working for Glenda Wardle as a research assistant in December and continued some of my honours research on the reproductive ecology of Trachymene incisa. In January, I attended the National Postgraduate Conference in Ecology,Evolution and Systematics, hosted by ANU in Canberra. I presented a talk on my honours research and was awarded a prize of $50 for my efforts. In February, I went on holiday to Vietnam and the Philippines for three weeks. I'll spare everyone the long details but I will mention the highlight of my trip: crawling through the Cu Chi underground tunnels near Saigon, which were used by the Viet Cong to defeat the Americans during the Vietnam War. In March I returned to Sydney and settled back in nicely as a research assistant again.

Rick Shine has been awarded not one but two prizes in the last month or so. First he was given the Clarke
Medal by the Royal Society of New South Wales, for excellence in research on the Australian fauna. Just as his hat size was returning to normal, he was informed that he was the joint recipient (with another snake biologist, Harry Greene from Cornell) of the prestigious E. O. Wilson Naturalist Award. Given by the American Society of Naturalists (the people who publish the journal "American Naturalist"), the award is named for the grand old man who founded the discipline of sociobiology. It's for a mid-career researcher whose work "illuminates principles of evolutionary biology and an enhanced aesthetic appreciation of natural history" .. and for someone "who has made significant contributions to the knowledge of a particular ecosystem or group of organisms". It's one of the few (and hence, presumably top!) such awards in evolutionary ecology worldwide, open to folks from all disciplines and taxonomic preferences etc. It involves some cash and an especially appropriate work of art - and no Ricky Spencer is not involved in the art prize!. Rick is the first non-U.S. citizen to win the award. He will travel to the evolution meetings in Indiana in late June to accept it. He is now anxiously checking his mail each day for letters from the Nobel Committee.

ALSO:

Rick, Michael Kearney and Mark Fitzgerald are heading off to a small island in northeastern China in late April, to spend
three weeks studying ecology and behaviour of the endemic pit-vipers. The snakes occur in remarkably high numbers on the
island, where they feed on migrating birds. Based on Rick's previous trip, the diet of sea cucumber and carp liver is likely to
prove more challenging than the tens of thousands of venomous snakes.

Rob Reed

Rob Reed, a Fullbright Phd student currently studying in Rick Shines lab group, "went to Disney Land a few years back; it was really fun!" This statement raises serious issues about the post graduates the school is currently attracting.

 

Skye Scholarship Award

Giselle walker of Protsville has recently been awarded a Ske Scholarship.

The scholarship is the Skye International Foundation Postgraduate Scholarship. It is given by the Skye International Foundation on the basis of merit (academic and broad interests), with the amount given being determined by need. The idea behind the International Foundation scholarship (or postdoc fellowship) is to provide a no-conditions-attached boost to students who would benefit greatly from extended study overseas, but cannot raise adequate funding for whatever reason- often because their study programs are slightly unconventional, like mine. I am being funded in 2001-2004 to do a PhD on eukaryote evolution, focussing on the placement and evolution of the pelobionts. This will be at University College London, the Botanical Institute, University of Copenhagen, and the Natural History Museum, London. I will have access (respectively) to expertise in likelihood theory (Ziheng Yang), protist ultrastructure and systematics (Ojvind Moestrup), eukaryote evolution and cladistics (Martin Embley et al.), and baroque violin and harpsichord performance. Before this I will do the M.Res in Modelling Biological Complexity at UCL in 2000-2001, working on the parameters of likelihood theory with Ziheng Yang.

From the Thompson Lab

Mike Thompson has begun a well earned sabbatical with a quick trip to New Zealand. Whilst there Mike attended a meeting of the TRG - no not a bunch of jaw breaking rogue policemen but the Tuatara Recovery Group of the Department of Conservation. He also managed to find time to draft a grant proposal, talk to postgraduate students and visit Wellington Zoo. Mike's summary of his trip? "It was rotten as usual!" Somehow I don;t believe him. As a post script Mike will be away until September.

Action Woman and the Phantom of the Macleay

The varied talents of the members of the School never cease to amaze. We have documentary evidence of the prowess of one of our post graduate students - click here to reveal all. There have also been reports of a "Phantom of the Maclaey." Members of the School report hearing arias being sung late at night - and by all accounts our phantom has an exceedingly good voice, although it could just be the acoustics! Please submit your best guesses as to the identity of the phantom and I will publish the poll results in the May newsletter.

 

 

Please Don't Pee in Our Hut; Madagascar, a Way of Life

Michelle Christy

Once upon a time in a university far too close, there was a PhD student (well, actually many) who dreamed of some excuse to flee the land of renovations, office moves and PhD write-up, to a place where life was simple, plants and animals exotic and computers did not exist. Then one day, her fairy godmother (aka email) sent a message from afar: 'join us on our research project'. So she packed up a few possessions (37kg worth to be exact, and I am still paying off the excess) and headed for the wilds of Madagascar…..

It was easy to be enticed by the project offered. Words such as Madagascar, climbing, baobab trees and parrot penises sparked great interest. The main project focused on the breeding biology and mechanisms that determine sperm competition in an endemic species of parrot, the Greater Vasa. This species is unusual in that males possess a cartilaginous cloacal protrusion known as a pseudo-penis, and both sexes display very unusual breeding behaviour. There was also the lure of other projects too, including lemur, chameleon, and sub-desert mesite studies with researchers from around the globe.

Madagascar is teeming with wildlife, and I was lucky to be able to work in an incredibly species rich forest called Kirindy, approximately 270km south west of Madagascar's capital, Antananarivo. I held my first chameleon three days after I arrived. I saw 10 species of lemur, and witnessed the birth of the smallest primate in the world, the Pygmy Mouse Lemur. In fact, lemurs were everywhere; one of our nests was over-run by a family of Lepilemurs! The snakes, geckos and lizards were extraordinary too, but it was the invertebrates that blew me away; cosmic slugs, fluorescent beetles, and the most amazing butterflies and moths you could ever imagine.

Although the wildlife was truly spectacular, and the research extremely interesting, it was the everyday life that has inspired me the most. It was the magic interactions with the Malagasy people, the hardships we endured and good times we shared that will remain with me long after I have misplaced my species lists. The experience was, indeed, nothing short of amazing. Everyday occurrences are too numerous to detail and even now forgotten moments continue to pop into my mind daily.

We lived in a little wattle hut village called Marofandilia on the west coast of Madagascar. It was unbelievably hot there, with no escape from the 40ºC + temperatures. I sipped water as nectar through the day and sought shade constantly. I worked with Jon and Karl, two researchers from Sheffield University, and occasionally Alpha who lived in the village. We ate with our family, Alpha, his wife Neny ny Vero, and their five squirly children, Zamena, Zena, Vero, Tsrito and Dany. The village was unfeasibly clean, except for the human faeces which was scattered liberally throughout, but centred primarily around the village's majestic baobab tree. Living in the village for such a long time was a wonderful experience because we saw everyday life and were part of it. We attended four dancey funerals, a sombre wedding, a difficult birth and two lively exhumations. We learnt how to glean what we needed from the forest; string from trees, reeds for screens, native species for food. We learnt about their culture, medicine and taboos, and fixed children's toys, the motorbike and heat stroke. We helped rebuild huts after bad storms. We lent, borrowed and made tools that were shared among the village. It seems we were as integrated into this village as westerners can get in Madagascar.

Everyday life was simple. We were never indoors - there was no indoors. We got up at dawn and worked with the parrots in hot, dusty maize fields or humid forests, returning to the village at midday to seek shade. We ate beans and rice three times a day, and sipped on boiled rice water (rano ny pango). Twice a day we walked to the well to collect stagnant water for drinking and bathing. In the afternoon, we rode back out on the motorbike to work on the parrots again (affectionately known as red headed demon birds - as the females lose their head feathers at this time of year and become extremely angry and feisty, particularly when caught). Sometimes we would watch bird behaviour, find nests or climb trees to catch nestlings. When a lull in breeding occurred, we made nest boxes, transported them out to the forest on broken down ox carts and hauled them up tall trees, securing them to hard trunks with soft nails. At dusk we again headed back to the village. Dinner was the same as lunch. Traditionally, we would Tranga Tranga, (be at one) with our neighbours, sitting cross-legged on the dirt smoking god-awful, head spinning tobacco (I didn't inhale!), chatting and learning Malagache. We were often invited into people's huts for food. Usually by then, we were so tired we stumbled off to bed, trying to remain cool enough to sleep but covered enough so as not to be eaten alive by vicious mosquitoes.

There was no English spoken in the village, in fact, there was pretty much no English anywhere in Madagascar. The village spoke only Malagache. The little bit of Malagache I so diligently learnt before leaving Australia was next to useless as the west coast has its own unique dialect. In fact, every time I tried to converse in their language, they thought I was speaking German! I became adept at the game of charades before learning a few choice words necessary for communication: "what's the gossip?", "Can I have more please?", " Please don't pee in our hut". I cannot express the importance of communication there. Mud hut villages, women with fathomless eyes, kids that giggle and try to catch glimpses of your underpants. Karl knew as much French and Malgache as I did, but survived very well by juggling and making coins appear from behind the grubby ears of little boys.

We were watched constantly. There was an eternal audience of people and no privacy. The children gradually lost their fear of us, and we lost our 'Englishness'. Jon would dress the kids up in his motorcycle glasses and they would run screaming through the village. We didn't see the glasses for hours; all the children had tried them on. They would then pile back into the hut to watch us again, or dance or stare fascinated at the trinkets and 'stuff' we had accumulated in the name of research. A small, hand-held mirror entertained them for hours. They all jostled for position to catch a glimpse of their own reflection for the first time, then ran away excitedly before returning for another look.

The wet season was almost upon us so we built ourselves a little stick hut with a palm frond roof and pitched our tents inside. We put a lot of thought into the design of our hut and drew up plans. Unfortunately, as paper was virtually non-existent in the village, our plans became cigarette paper and were soon nothing more than a pile of ash. We built the hut anyway, on a platform which proved just tall enough to shelter all the village roosters and chooks, and provide a bordello for the rutting goats, provided they were content to mate lying down.

We spent Christmas in the village and New Year on a deserted beach 300km south, away from any man-made fireworks or millennium bugs. Our Christmas tree was a twig, tinsel was a shed snake skin and baubles were brightly coloured insects. We threw a party and everyone from the village turned up, plus 30 gate crashers who heard strange music whilst driving past and came to investigate. Karl breathed fire and the children ran away. We introduced techno music, Saturday Night Fever dancing and the phrase 'no worries Murray' to the village. In return, they taught us their traditional dance which, although informed to the contrary, I will never believe is non-sexual in its intention!

The onset of the wet season signified the onset of some fairly hard times. There were varying quantities of two inch horsefly and wasp swarms with which to painfully deal. Our tents, even when pitched inside our hut, gave little shelter from particularly bad storms. Although more than three times the yearly rainfall fell in two months, the temperature rarely dropped below 35ºC.

The wet season was seriously bad, and the three cyclones (including the one that devastated Mozambique) hit our area hard. The cyclones brought with them much rain from the high plateau, which was relentless in its quest to throw to earth large quantities of fat, plump water-drops. Water crept slowly across the ground. It was insidious the way it silently seeped into crevices, filling potholes to overflowing and then, like some viscous treacle a small boy has purposefully spilt on a wooden carving, it covered the earth. The river rose and burst its banks by about three meters, and the whole of Morondava flooded within an hour. Thousands of people lost their homes. Mud walls dissolved like fairy-floss. Houses, livestock, possessions and people were swept out to sea. The main village area, situated, of course, on massive low, flat mudpans, drowned in the mountain rain. It was like watching an inundated ant nest; lines upon lines of people, mattresses on their heads, ducks under their arms, children tied to their backs, wading from their homes to tiny mounds of crumbling soggy earth. The cholera outbreak became an epidemic. We tried to leave because of it but we couldn't. The government's idea of emergency flood management was to blow up the road in about a dozen places to let the water flow from one side to the other. So we were trapped in Morondava for more than a week.

Finally we made it back to our village by foot, ox cart and the occasional bout of breastroke. Unfortunately, two weeks later, a locust plague ate all the crops in Marofandilia and surrounding hamlets and villages. Because the roads were impassable, supplies could not get through to the village and we soon ran out of rice and beans. For three weeks, the only food we could get was that gleaned from the forest. So we all hunted native species such as tenrecs and boas, collected leaves and mushrooms and dug native potatoes from the ground. We paid people a days wage not to eat our study animals. However, in those sorts of situations, money is of little value.

But still the people smiled. They still tsranga tsranged. The village continued to survive although some villagers died. Babies, paraffin lamps, old people dying, dancing funerals. But there were other worlds to experienced there, a world of hot prickly field work, of Morondava town, of fantastically intricate leaf litter and totem pole baobabs, of German-Malagache politics in the research camp. The only constant, it seems to me, is the cycle of life that passes so close to the underside of their noses. The problem is, it is by no means constant!