Devoted readers of this blog may have noticed my recent silence. There is an exciting reason for it: I’ve given notice at my job. My last day on the staff of Arizona Wildlife Views magazine is May 5.
Soon, I will be devoting more time to my freelance editing business. My engagement with writers, words, and wildlife won’t end—not at all. I’m already copyediting one book about Arizona’s snakes, and am under contract to assist with the development of a book about Arizona birding. Who knows what other fun projects I might get to work on?
Embracing the fact that I run a small business has shifted my perspective. I’ve been developing a website, working with a graphic designer to create a logo, designing my own business cards, and deciding how to describe the services I can provide. I feel a powerful sense of ownership. A dream is coming true. I also feel creative, hopeful, and curious to see what the future holds.
At the same time, I look back at more than 11 years on the magazine staff and realize how lucky I was. I worked with hundreds of biologists, wildlife managers, and communications specialists at the Arizona Game and Fish Department who have devoted themselves to the conservation of wildlife. It’s been a privilege to work beside them and learn from them.
As an editor, I tackled about 74 issues of Arizona’s award-winning wildlife magazine and two books. As a staff writer, I watched California condors soar, photographed a herd of bison, interviewed Arizona’s first state herpetologist, wrote about my outdoor adventures (everything from birding by bike to learning to flyfish), and saw my byline on nearly 50 feature articles.
How many writers, photographers, and illustrators have shared their creative work with me across all these years? I feel a strong connection to these artists who love wildlife. It’s a small state … maybe we will cross paths again. I like to think so.
The future of this blog is to be determined as we see how this new adventure unfolds. I guess we’ll all find out. In the meantime, come visit me at juliehammonds.com.
It’s the kind of question for which I love to sleuth out a satisfying answer, which is, I suppose, why I love being an editor.
“Is this a Sonoran Desert tortoise, i.e., a tortoise of the Sonoran Desert, or is it a Sonoran desert tortoise, i.e., a desert tortoise of the Sonoran region?”
When you face a question of this type, a biologist who specializes in that species is the person to ask. I turned to the delightful Cristina Jones, who heads the turtles project for the Arizona Game and Fish Department. Alert readers may remember her from my “Team Work” post.
In addition to being a smart and thoughtful biologist, Cristina is a word person. She loves questions like this.
“Cecil Schwalbe (my undergraduate and master’s advisor) and Tom Jones, among others, are true sticklers for this very topic,” she wrote me.
“A desert tortoise is a desert tortoise, so only the name of the actual desert region is capitalized (Sonoran desert tortoise, Mojave desert tortoise).” She pointed out that the Sonoran region contains more than just the Sonoran Desert, and the same goes for the Mojave.
“In contrast, the Sonoran Desert toad is a toad (not a desert toad), so both Sonoran and Desert are capitalized. Same for the Yuman Desert fringe-toed lizard, as it is a fringe-toed lizard, not a desert fringe-toed lizard.”
So, now I have not only an answer to the specific question I asked, but also a better understanding of the thinking behind it. That will help me in future situations where a similar question arises. By taking the time to explain the “why” behind her answer, Cristina helped me improve my work. I really appreciated that. When it comes to words, there is always something to learn. And isn’t learning fun?
My colleague Colleen Miniuk-Sperry, a dynamic writer-photographer based here in Arizona, is serving as temporary executive director of the Outdoor Writers Association of America while they conduct a national search for a permanent ED. One of her initiatives to encourage networking has been to highlight various OWAA members in a 20-questions interview shared on OWAA’s website and Facebook page. Having been a member of OWAA since 2004, I was honored when she asked me to step into the spotlight for a moment:
In its 93-year history, the Arizona Wildlife Federation has never actively asked for a “no” vote on a Cabinet nomination. That ended Jan. 23 in a joint announcement with the National Wildlife Federation in which both groups opposed the nomination of Scott Pruitt to head the Environmental Protection Agency.
“Scott Pruitt’s record of litigation against the EPA and his disregard for science puts Arizona’s air, water, natural resources and public health at risk,” said AWF President Brad Powell. “Pruitt is not committed to finding new solutions to complex environmental issues and is ideologically opposed to the organization he is being asked to lead.”
These wildlife federations are not partisan organizations. Their members are Republicans, Democrats, Libertarians, and Independents. Their central mission is simple: to advocate for wildlife. These organizations have worked effectively in a bipartisan fashion for decades. They know that continued support for thriving wildlife populations and healthy habitats is—and must be—based on broad public support.
Now, they are mobilizing that support in a series of ads urging Arizonans to contact senators John McCain and Jeff Flake and request a “no” vote on Pruitt’s nomination.
AWF President Powell said, “The Arizona Wildlife Federation is the state’s oldest wildlife conservation organization. We were founded by hunters, anglers, and other wildlife enthusiasts in 1923 with a primary purpose of keeping politics out of wildlife management and ensuring that sound science provides the foundation for management decisions.” Sound science as the foundation for management is a central tenet of the North American Model of Wildlife Conservation—it’s how we Americans manage our abundant and valuable wildlife. This solid system relies on positive, bipartisan action. In these challenging times, when causes we can agree on sometimes seem few and far between, here’s one: Let’s find the right leader for the EPA.
You never know what you might find when you leave the trail and strike off to explore trackless territory.
My friend Dianne Howard and I were reminded of this lesson last weekend as we hiked in the White Mountains of east-central Arizona. We were exploring the Railroad Grade Trail, west of the town of Eagar. It’s a long, relatively flat trail that begins at a big trailhead on State Route 260. The trail led us out into the high grasslands. We amused ourselves by scanning for hunting northern harriers and other grassland birds. But it’s late in the season, and there weren’t many birds out, so we decided to explore the nearby woods.
After a mile of walking, however, it was clear the trail was not going to take us there. So, we left the trail, striking off across hillocks of waving, golden grass. Entering the forest fringe was like crossing the threshold to a new world. Edges are such fascinating places. The edge is where we found this tree. The fallen aspen was at least 30 feet long, and every square foot of its surface had some sort of marking.
According to biologist Randy Babb, the marks are probably signs of bears and porcupines at work. He thinks the claw marks were made by a bear, while the teeth marks were made by a porcupine.
Fascinating, isn’t it? Yet we never would have seen this tree if we’d stayed on the trail.
Whenever I leave a trail, I’m careful to avoid harming the habitat or leaving signs of my presence behind. There are fragile soils on the Colorado Plateau that should never know the press of a human foot. These living “cryptobiotic” soils, aka “the crust,” are important members of their ecosystems. One service they provide is keeping dust out of the air. When you think about leaving a trail, look before you step, and make sure to stay off these soils, which take decades or longer to heal.
But do leave the trail, when you can. Amazing stories are waiting to be told, and you never know when you might find one.
This is going to be difficult to write, because I want to do him justice, and I won’t be able to. I only knew Dr. George West for the last few years of his long, productive life. What can I possibly say that would reflect my admiration for this man, who was such a pleasure to know and who accomplished so much?
The best I can do, I feel—the only thing I can do that might have any value—is write about what I experienced and learned during the time I knew him.
My friend Dianne Howard introduced me to George after meeting him and his dog, Sandi, while on a hike in the White Mountains in 2013. During their conversation, she told him she was writing an article for Arizona Wildlife Views magazine. He mentioned he had prepared the first draft of a memoir about his life working with birds as a scientist and conservationist, but didn’t know what to do with it next. He was looking for help, and Dianne thought of me, because she knew I freelanced as an editor.
I’m so glad she introduced us. I’ll never be able to repay that favor.
It turned out that George and I had some fun things in common. We both loved birds, of course; we’d both lived in Alaska (he lived in Fairbanks and Homer, I lived in Juneau). Once we’d been introduced via email, George sent me the first chapter of his memoir, which I read and responded to in an editorial letter. Then he sent more chapters, and I responded again, and this relationship was launched: writer and editor, meeting on screen and on the page, communicating via the written word.
The writer-editor relationship is intimate, perhaps especially when you’re working on a person’s memoir, but I can be slow on the uptake, and George was such a humble man that it took some time before I grasped the full extent of his credentials. During a distinguished scientific career as an avian physiological ecologist with the Institute of Arctic Biology at the University of Alaska Fairbanks, Dr. West had more than 80 scholarly articles published. To share his knowledge of birds with the public, he wrote the “Birder’s Guide to Alaska” and other bird guides, including two books about hummingbirds. His talents were not limited to the written word: He was an accomplished artist in a breathtaking variety of media, from pen-and-ink to photography. He also co-founded the Hummingbird Monitoring Network, which collects data to ensure smart conservation of hummingbirds. And that’s only a beginning of the list of things he’d accomplished in his 80+ years.
By the time I found these things out, we were colleagues with a project to work on, and though I was impressed by his doctorate and his many other achievements, I wasn’t cowed. George was such a gentle, self-effacing man that it never occurred to me to be nervous about working with this illustrious personage.
Together, we focused on the memoir. George told me he’d never written this kind of thing, and didn’t read such books. He read mostly science and, when he wanted to relax, mysteries. It’s tough for someone to write in a genre they don’t read. It is also tough for someone to write an engaging, personal memoir that’s largely about science. He knew I liked reading and writing memoirs, and asked if I might take his first draft and ghost-write something for publication. By that time, I’d read more than half of it. I felt its potential, and I also felt George was a man who liked a challenge. So instead, I offered to coach him as he revised it.
We looked for books “like” the one he wanted his memoir to be, to use as examples, but found very few. I had the audacity to send him a reading list, trying to help him find a writing style for this new kind of work he’d embarked on. Among others, I suggested “All Creatures Great and Small.” I knew his eyesight was poor, so “reading” might mean listening to a book on computer. I also knew how incredibly sharp his mind was. If he enjoyed even one of the books I suggested, it was worth his time and mine. To his great credit, he always expressed appreciation for my suggestions, no matter how far out in left field they went.
I marked up his chapters, coaching him, pushing him in the direction of memoirs I’ve read and enjoyed. I encouraged him to be personal, put the reader in the moment, share his feelings. Here again, though he did push back gently sometimes, he was always incredibly kind to me and respectful of my suggestions. I can’t imagine a more gracious response to what must have been, at times, a repetitious litany of notes.
This will sound funny, but in the two-plus years we worked together, we only met once. Dianne and I joined him and his beautiful wife, Ellen, and Sandi for a walk on the West Fork of the Black River and a visit to their house in the White Mountains in September 2015. I was actually nervous to meet him in person, even after so many months of collegial emails. But those nerves soon faded away. We walked and talked, looked at plants and appreciated the beauty of a place he loved and knew well. He was a quiet person, but so am I, and it was easy to be around him. I will always be grateful for those memories.
There were interruptions in our work, of course. He travelled; I travelled; he had other projects; I had a full-time job. One thing he never let slow us down was his health. His eyesight was rapidly deteriorating. I’m sure it must have frustrated him, this man who’d been able to pick out distinguishing marks on a pale brown bird a hundred yards away, but he found ways to keep working and never once entertained the idea of quitting our project.
In fact, the concept of quitting wasn’t in his vocabulary. The man was a publishing machine. While we worked on the memoir, his book “North American Hummingbirds: An Identification Guide” was published by the University of New Mexico Press; a great achievement. This past summer, he sent another book, “Plants of the Eastern White Mountains, Arizona,” to the same press for consideration. He invited me to help him with the introductory material, which I felt honored to do.
In the meantime, we made progress on “A Life for Birds.” After we’d finished a few rounds of revision, other people read drafts and gave suggestions. Writing this story was a big challenge for a science guy, but that didn’t phase him. He was ready to wade back into it with me this fall. His eyesight had become a significant impediment, but he said, “I really hope we can work out a way for you to get me through the rest of this book.” He felt that, after one more review, it would be ready for consideration by a publisher.
I wish I had been able to finish the project with him. It wasn’t like George to leave work undone. But this was still on his list when he died Aug. 31 after a stroke.
I will always remember George West as someone who grew old with grace, accomplished great things with a humble attitude, never stopped learning, and always made people around him feel appreciated. In his 85 years, George never quit making a positive difference for the people, places and birds he loved. I will miss him, and I’m just one person who knew and admired him for a short time in his long life; there are so many people who are grieving his passing, and most of them knew him better. We share this in common: Although I am sad about his death, I am grateful for his life; for all of it, but especially for the part he shared with me.
George’s obituary has been published by the Daily News Miner in Fairbanks and the Homer News in Homer. Ellen West asks people who want to donate something in George’s name to choose the scholarship fund at Friends of Madera Canyon, Box 1203, Green Valley, AZ 85622.
Learn more about George C. West and view some of the artwork he and Ellen created at Birchside Studios. Read more remembrances of George, including the lovely article Dianne Howard wrote for Arizona Wildlife Views after meeting him, on this page. If you would like to write a remembrance of George for publication there, send me an email.
I chair the annual awards program hosted by the Association for Conservation Information, which means I get to see all the entries after they’ve been judged but before they’re shown at the organization’s national conference.
The entries come primarily from state wildlife agencies across the United States. This year, just for fun, I took the titles of all 79 magazine articles entered in the contest’s four magazine article categories (wildlife, general interest, fisheries, and destination/historical/cultural). Then I used a word cloud generator to create this lovely tree.
I showed this image on the association’s Facebook page, where it got quite a bit of attention. I expect to see a bunch of magazine articles in the next year with titles like “The Allure of New Rivers,” “Riding the Fish Trail,” and “First Run of Wild Water.”
Last week, we at Arizona Wildlife Views launched our annual wildlife photo contest. Once again, we’re partnering with Arizona Highways magazine, which sponsors the contest on its digital platform. Their support helps keep the contest free to enter and ensures wide publicity. Last year, more than 2,000 entries were received. This year, we hope for fewer. That may sound odd, but there’s a reason: Not every photo merits a spot in our wildlife calendar.
We’re looking for great images. Each winner is printed full-size on a page all its own. We use high-quality paper, and all photos are printed at 300 dots to the inch. You can’t see the dots, but you can see the detail: the edge of a feather, the bright spot in an eye, the details of fur … it all shows, or is supposed to. Dots on the page equate to pixels in a digital camera. And here’s where we got into trouble in the last contest.
Some people, not knowing better, entered photos that couldn’t be printed at that resolution. They were “good” photos: well composed, engagingly colorful, containing a compelling subject caught at an interesting moment. But when we opened the files on a computer and looked at the pixel count, we realized they were too small to print full-page at 300 dpi, which is how we do it.
We tried. We contacted photographers and asked for original files, to see if maybe the contest software had cut down the file size. Many finalists were happy to work with us on this. They dealt with a complicated FTP site to deliver big files. A few asked me what an “original file” was. I tried to help. It took a lot of my time. In the end, we were happy with our winners but not happy with the complicated process of getting them.
People who enter again this year may notice some changes to the contest rules because of these challenges. We emphasize that the photos entered must be of a quality suitable for publication. We provide detailed directions for keeping an original file on hand while entering an exact copy into the contest. Behind the scenes, we have a new process for checking the size of each entry before judging. We don’t want to waste time judging photos that can’t be printed.
These “new” rules may scare off some people, and reduce the number of photos entered. As long as what we judge can be printed, and we find 13 worthy of showcasing in our wildlife calendar, I’m fine with that.
The other day, as we were wrapping up production on the May–June issue of Arizona Wildlife Views, I started musing about all the people who had contributed to the article I was now reviewing one last time.
This particular article is about an annual turtle-trapping event at the Phoenix Zoo, which raises awareness of the problems that occur when people release nonnative pet turtles into the wild.
I remembered this article was born in an editorial planning meeting with my boss, magazine editor Heidi Rayment, in mid-2015. We hold one big meeting each year, to start planning the next year’s content. At that meeting, she suggested we contact the turtle experts at Arizona Game and Fish for ideas that might become feature content in 2016.
It’s pretty neat to work at a place where you have turtle experts on call, but that’s Game and Fish: if it’s wildlife, we’ve got someone on staff who knows all about it.
In response to Heidi’s suggestion, this article was proposed and then written by Cristina Jones, whose job title is “turtles project coordinator.” Cristina is wicked smart, as they say back East. She cares about elegance of expression as well as accuracy of content. Plus, she’ll seize any excuse to laugh or to make me laugh. I find her a joy to work with.
Cristina wrote the article and sent it our way. In my edits, we worked on shaping an opening section that grabbed people’s attention, and I helped her make sure the article conveyed its key messages clearly and with vigor.
Then it was time to look for photos. Cristina combed through her project files for relevant images. Some were from biologists, others from freelancers. Staff photographer George Andrejko added more to the mix.
Once the photos were ready and the text was in final form, our art director, Cecelia Carpenter, got ahold of the raw materials. That’s when something that had been really good became more than that: It became art. Cecelia’s creativity pushed this package to reach its potential.
And now, here it is. About 10 months after Heidi said, “Let’s do something on turtles,” we have an article ready to publish. Will our readers know that at least 10 people collaborated on it, bringing our different skills together to produce these pages?
They will now!
The May–June issue of Arizona Wildlife Views will reach subscribers by late May.