Journal articles on the topic 'Heather beetles'

Heather beetle (Lochmaea suturalis) introduced in 1996 into Tongariro National Park New Zealand to control heather (Calluna vulgaris) has established poorly and only damaged heather at one site This work investigated whether natural enemies could be reducing heather beetle establishment and impact No egg larval or adult parasitism was found Possible egg predation by a carabid beetle larvae and occasional attacks on larvae by the native pentatomid (Cermatulus nasalis) were observed in the field Neither the microsporidian pathogen discovered in some beetles imported from the United Kingdom nor any other pathogenic diseases were detected in fieldcollected beetles in New Zealand It is suggested that adverse weather was responsible for a collapse in heather beetle numbers at Te Piripiri during 2002 Further efforts to redistribute heather beetle and continued monitoring of beetle numbers impact natural enemies and climate at release sites are recommended

Heather, Calluna vulgaris (L.) Hull, is a serious invasive weed in the central North Island of New Zealand, especially in Tongariro National Park, a World Heritage Area. Heather beetle, Lochmaea suturalis (Thomson), is a foliage-feeding pest of Calluna in Europe, that was selected as the most promising biological control agent for introduction into New Zealand, because it causes high levels of damage to Calluna in Europe. Host-range tests indicated that L. suturalisposes a negligible threat to native New Zealand plants. Cultivars of Callunagrown as ornamentals are suitable food plants, but are unlikely to be severely affected because L. suturalis requires a damp understorey of moss or litter for successful oviposition and pupation, which is rarely present in gardens. However, mosses and litter occurring under Calluna stands in Tongariro National Park are suitable substrates for eggs and pupae. Lochmaea suturalis released in New Zealand has been freed of parasitoids and a microsporidian disease that attack the beetles in Europe.

Calluna vulgaris (heather) is an aggressive invasive weed on the Central Plateau, North Is., New Zealand (NZ), where it encounters different environmental factors compared to its native range in Europe, such as high ultraviolet radiation (UV) and a lack of specialist herbivores. The specialist herbivore Lochmaea suturalis (heather beetle) was introduced from the United Kingdom (UK) in 1996 as a biocontrol agent to manage this invasive weed. Like other plant invaders, a novel environment may be challenging for heather as it adjusts to its new conditions. This process of “adjustment” involves morphological and physiological changes often linked to phenotypic plasticity. The biochemical responses of exotic plants to environmental variables in their invaded range is poorly understood. The production and release of volatile organic compounds (VOCs) is essential to plant communication and highly susceptible to environmental change. This study therefore aimed to explore the VOC emissions of heather in response to different levels of UV exposure, and to feeding damage by L. suturalis. Using tunnel houses clad with UV-selective filters, we measured VOCs produced by heather under NZ ambient, 20% attenuated, and 95% attenuated solar UV treatments. We also compared VOC emissions in the field at adjacent sites where L. suturalis was present or absent. Volatiles produced by the same target heather plants were measured at four different times in the spring and summer of 2018–2019, reflecting variations in beetle’s abundance, feeding stage and plant phenology. Heather plants under 95% attenuated UV produced significantly higher amounts of (E)-β-farnesene, decanal, benzaldehyde, and benzeneacetaldehyde compared to 25% attenuated and ambient UV radiation. We also found significant differences in volatiles produced by heather plants in beetle-present versus beetle-absent sites on most sampling occasions. We also recorded a lower number of generalist herbivores on heather at sites where L. suturalis was present. Interactions between invasive plants, a novel environment, and the native communities they invade, are discussed.

The insect exoskeleton is a multifunctional coat with a continuum of mechanical and structural properties constituting the barrier between electromagnetic waves and the internal body parts. This paper examines the ability of beetle exoskeleton to regulate internal body temperature considering its thermal permeability or isolation to simulated solar irradiance and infrared radiation. Seven Neotropical species of dung beetles (Coleoptera, Scarabaeinae) differing in colour, surface sculptures, size, sexual dimorphism, period of activity, guild category and altitudinal distribution were studied. Specimens were repeatedly subjected to heating trials under simulated solar irradiance and infrared radiation using a halogen neodymium bulb light with a balanced daylight spectrum and a ceramic infrared heat emitter. The volume of exoskeleton and its weight per volume unit were significantly more important for the heating rate at the beginning of the heating process than for the asymptotic maximum temperature reached at the end of the trials: larger beetles with relatively thicker exoskeletons heated more slowly. The source of radiation greatly influences the asymptotic temperature reached, but has a negligible effect in determining the rate of heat gain by beetles: they reached higher temperatures under artificial sunlight than under infrared radiation. Interspecific differences were negligible in the heating rate but had a large magnitude effect on the asymptotic temperature, only detectable under simulated sun irradiance. The fact that sun irradiance is differentially absorbed dorsally and transformed into heat among species opens the possibility that differences in dorsal exoskeleton would facilitate the heat gain under restrictive environmental temperatures below the preferred ones. The findings provided by this study support the important role played by the exoskeleton in the heating process of beetles, a cuticle able to act passively in the thermal control of body temperature without implying energetic costs and metabolic changes.

ABSTRACT In this study, microwave heating was employed for controlling Oryzaephilus surinamensis adult beetles infesting stored Iranian dried figs. The dried fig samples were artificially infested with O. surinamensis and then heated in a microwave oven (2,450 MHz) at power outputs of 450, 720, and 900 W for 20, 30, 40, and 50 s. Changes in the color of the samples after these microwave applications were evaluated for lightness (ΔL*), redness (Δa*), and yellowness (Δb*) using an image processing technique. Both parameters of microwave power and exposure time had significant effects on beetle mortality (P < 0.01). A direct positive relationship was found between the mortality rate and microwave power. Complete mortality was achieved at 900 W and for 50 s. The color parameters of the dried fig samples did not change significantly. These results indicate that microwave irradiation can be introduced as an appropriate alternative to chemical fumigants without affecting product quality.

The subfamily Cicindelinae which belongs to the family Carabidae are commonly known as tiger beetles. Despite the recent studies conducted on this taxon, current ecological knowledge on tiger beetles is limited. Thus, this study aimed to provide a current checklist of tiger beetles as well as their species distribution, abundances and habitat preferences in Sarawak based on voucher specimens from Universiti Malaysia Sarawak Insect Reference Collection (UIRC). A total of 76 specimens of tiger beetles were examined in which comprising of seven genera from eight species. The genus Neocollyris was represented with two species, namely Neocollyris (s. str.) ermaginata and Neocollyris (Stenocollyris) sarawakensis macrodera, while the other genera were represented by only one species, respectively. The most abundant species with 64 individuals (84.21%) were represented by Cosmodela aurulenta, followed by Abroscelis tenuipes araneipes and Therates labiatus with three individuals (3.95%) and N. ermaginata with two individuals (2.63%). In this study, there were eight ecological habitats being identified, namely heath forest, limestone forest, littoral forest, mixed dipterocarp forest, oil palm plantation, peat swamp forest, riverine forest and urban area. The data indicates that C. aurulenta being recorded at seven ecological habitats suggesting this species to have a wide distribution capability while species such as A. tenuipes araneipes, Callytron doriai, Cicindela sp., Myriochila (s. str.) specularis brevipennis, N. ermaginata and N. s. macrodera suggesting these species to have a very narrow habitat specialisation. The results of this preliminary study provide evidence on the need to conduct further studies on the ecological aspects of tiger beetles in Sarawak.
 
 Keywords: Cicindelinae, ecological distribution, Sarawak, tiger beetles, voucher specimens

The study was carried out in the Vaniotunturi fell area (67°44'N, 29°37 'E) under northern taiga forest conditions. The habitat, a Pinus heath is extremely poor and monotonous. Altogether 196 pitfall traps 10 metres apart (Ø 8.5 cm, height 10.3 cm, with a lid 5 cm above the trap) arranged in a quadrat were used in 1991, and the same field with an additional40 traps placed one trap at each end of a two-metre wall was used from 1992 to 1994. The individuals of Carabus glabratus were marked with a small label cut off from a traffic sign sticker in 1991 and 1992. Only these captured and marked ones were recorded in the following years. In 1994 the trapping was done by killing the beetles. 524 individuals were marked. Males dominated in both years. The recapture proportion was significantly higher for the beetles marked in 1992 than for those of the previous year. The marked beetles were recaptured within four days on average. The estimated maximal population size in 1991 was 1400 individuals, occurring at the beginning of July, while in 1992 it was 3000 exx., in the middle of June. About 15% of the beetles marked in 1991 were caught at least once during the year of marking. Two years after marking, the proportion of recaptures decreased to 2%, but one male marked in 1991 was still captured in 1994.

The purpose of processing potato tubers before planting by the complex effect of electrophysical factors is disinfection from a number of pests, activating the cells of potato tubers to accelerate and increase their germination, with the exception of side effects on the physico-chemical composition of the grown potatoes. The installation contains a toroidal cavity, inside the torus there is a conveyor, an unloading stopper and moving fluoroplastic scrapers. In the condenser space are electro-discharge lamps, connected to sources of a kHz frequency and a rotating disk, with a distributor. On the surface of the torus mounted magnetrons. An induction heater is installed under the torus. The torus has windows for unloading potato tuber waste. The developed installation contains various sources of electromagnetic radiation: microwave generators, which provide endogenous heating of potato tubers and prevent diseases and pests; induction heater to kill beetles and other pests due to thermal burns; high-frequency (110 kHz) alternating pulsed current generators with high voltage and electro-gas-discharge lamps, which accelerate biochemical reactions, saturate tubers with oxygen, increase the elasticity of the tuber peel and its permeability. This whole complex of energy sources contributes to the activation of potato tuber cells, accelerating and improving germination. Using a single unit with a capacity of up to 300 kg/h, it is possible to carry out preplant processing of up to 20 tons of potato tubers no larger than 6 cm in size, with specific energy expenditures of up to 0.2 kW h/kg.

A three-year study (1989?92) of the responses of invertebrates to fire was carried out in mallee-heath shrublands in the Stirling Range National Park, Western Australia. Abundances were measured at the Order level for major groups, and at the morphospecies level for Coleoptera. Changes in floristics and vegetation structure were monitored over the same period. At the Order level, variation in abundances was attributable more to locality, seasonal and year-to-year effects than to fire. Responses of beetles at the morphospecies level, however, reflected changes due to fire as well those attributable to season and year. Coleoptera and Diptera were most abundant 40 years after fire, Hemiptera and Orthoptera peaked in earlier seral stages, while Hymenoptera and Araneae showed relatively few fire-related trends. Coleoptera and Diptera best reflected changes due to season, year and fire, and together with some Araneae such as mygalomorph spiders, would most likely be suitable groups to consider in future studies. Multivariate analyses indicated that classification to morphospecies level is essential to elucidate changes due to fire. These analyses also indicated that changes in invertebrate abundance and composition did not accord with changes in floristics or vegetation structure. Each set of data therefore represents different facets of change over time, including those due to fire. Comparing our data with contemporaneous information collected in upland areas of the Park indicates that there is a clear dichotomy in the fire sensitivity of species inhabiting the wet gullies and thickets of the mountains and those occupying the seasonally dry lowland mallee-heaths. Fire management strategies need to take account of this dichotomy by protecting relictual fire sensitive species and habitats.

The distribution and abundance of the carabid beetle fauna of selected grassy ecosystems, wet and dry sclerophyll forests, and wet heaths in the Eastern Tiers, Tasmania was examined using pitfall traps. The conservation values of the sites were assessed by applying evaluation criteria typically used for vegetation (i.e., representativeness, typicalness, diversity and rarity) to both the carabid fauna data and the vegetation data. Sites of high conservation value for carabids and vegetation were identified and compared. Sites that ranked highest in terms of the carabid fauna on all conservation criteria were not the sites that ranked highest based on the vegetation. Classification of sites produced different results depending on whether plant or carabid data were used. Conservation based solely on vegetation attributes will therefore not necessarily conserve a rich and/or representative carabid fauna. If the objective to conserve a representative range of all biota is to be met, the use of additional taxa such as carabids in conservation assessments is desirable.

A method for the production of multicomponent fruit and vegetable paste has been developed. All components were selected considering the content of physiologically functional ingredients. The method is distinguished using the developed innovative equipment: a multifunctional apparatus for the implementation of preliminary heat treatment of raw materials; rotary film evaporator for concentrating puree. The developed devices are distinguished by increased resource efficiency due to heating with a low-temperature film electric heater with a temperature regime in the range of 45-70 °C. The study of structural and mechanical parameters and organoleptic evaluation of the prototypes allowed to reveal the rational content of raw materials in the developed paste: apples – 30%; viburnum – 20%; black chokeberry – 20%; pumpkins – 20%, beets – 10%.

Modifications of three detection methods, based on the heat-gradient principle employed by the Berlese funnel method were investigated to extract larvae of the rusty grain beetle, Cryptolestes ferrugineus (Stephens), developing under the seed coats of infested kernels in grain samples. One-kilogram samples of wheat, barley and corn were artificially infested with rusty grain beetle eggs, resulting in survival rates (to larval stage) of 71.1 ± 14.4, 58.9 ± 14.3, and 24.7 ± 11.8%, respectively. Sets of 10 infested kernels containing different-aged larvae (10 individuals × 4 instars) were added to 1-kg samples of hydrated grain, then heated on screens beneath heat sources (lights) at several heights in three different containers (Berlese funnel, with a 7-cm-deep grain layer, or square and rectangular screened boxes with a grain layer several kernels deep). There were no significantly different extraction rates between the rectangular and square containers for all heating trials. A larval extraction rate of 31% was produced by 1-h trials with wheat (15% moisture content wet basis) 5.5 cm below the lamp bank with a thermostat set at 50°C. This matched the efficiency of the Berlese funnel method (36% extraction in 6 h), but in much less time. Similar results were found for barley, bu t for corn the square and rectangle gave significantly better extraction than the Berlese funnel, although extraction efficiency was half that of wheat and barley. Considerably lower extraction rates were obtained from trials that did not use a thermostat. The results from this experiment show that there is a potential alternative detection method with the thermostatically controlled heating of a thin layer of grain that should be faster than the conventional 6-h Berlese funnel method. Key words: Cryptolestes ferrugineus, grain, larval extraction, Berlese funnel, grain monolayer

A new method of production of multicomponent fruit and vegetable semi-finished products and sugar confectionery products, in particular pastilles, on its basis has been developed. The recipe of semi-finished products is chosen taking into account the health properties, which consists of apples, pumpkins, beets, sea buckthorn and chokeberry. For concentration processes during the production of the semi-finished product, advanced apparatus based on a radiating flexible film resistive electric heater (RFFREH) is used. Rational modes of processing of vegetable raw materials are set for the developed apparatus. Studies of structural and mechanical properties of the proposed multicomponent fruit and vegetable pastes and purees are presented. Analysis of these structural and mechanical properties shows the advantage of multi-component fruit and vegetable paste with apple puree – 30%, pumpkin – 20%, beets – 10%, sea buckthorn – 20% and chokeberry – 20%. The use of fruit and vegetable pastes in the technology of pastille gives the products a pleasant taste and aroma, due to which it is possible to use the paste as a natural flavor and dye, without the use of synthetic ones. The use of the developed fruit and vegetable paste in technologies of sugar confectionery, namely pastilles is offered. The optimal application of fruit and vegetable paste is 40% replacement of apple puree, which will provide a significant increase of physiologically functional ingredients in the product.

Disturbance–succession models describe the relationship between the disturbance regime and the dominant tree species of a forest type. Such models are useful tools in ecosystem management and restoration, provided they are accurate. We tested a disturbance–succession model for the oak–pine ( Quercus spp. – Pinus spp.) forests of the Appalachian Mountains region using dendrochronological techniques. In this model, fire promotes pines, while fire suppression, bark beetle outbreaks, and ice storms encourage oaks. We analyzed nine Appalachian oak–pine stands for species establishment dates and the occurrence of fires and canopy disturbances. We found no evidence that fire preferentially promoted the establishment of pine more than oak, nor did we find any evidence that canopy disturbances or periods of no disturbance facilitated the establishment of oak more than pine. Rather, we found that both species groups originated primarily after combined canopy and fire disturbances, and reduction of fire frequency and scope coincided with the cessation of successful oak and pine regeneration. Currently, heath shrubs are slowly dominating these stands, so we present a revised disturbance–succession model for land managers struggling to manage or restore oak–pine forests containing a dense ericaceous understory.

The Arctic is warming at twice the rate of the rest of the world. This impacts Arctic species both directly, through increased temperatures, and indirectly, through structural changes in their habitats. Species are expected to exhibit idiosyncratic responses to structural change, which calls for detailed investigations at the species and community level. Here, we investigate how arthropod assemblages of spiders and beetles respond to variation in habitat structure at small spatial scales. We sampled transitions in shrub dominance and soil moisture between three different habitats (fen, dwarf shrub heath, and tall shrub tundra) at three different sites along a fjord gradient in southwest Greenland, using yellow pitfall cups. We identified 2,547 individuals belonging to 47 species. We used species richness estimation, indicator species analysis and latent variable modeling to examine differences in arthropod community structure in response to habitat variation at local (within site) and regional scales (between sites). We estimated species responses to the environment by fitting species-specific generalized linear models with environmental covariates. Species assemblages were segregated at the habitat and site level. Each habitat hosted significant indicator species, and species richness and diversity were significantly lower in fen habitats. Assemblage patterns were significantly linked to changes in soil moisture and vegetation height, as well as geographic location. We show that meter-scale variation among habitats affects arthropod community structure, supporting the notion that the Arctic tundra is a heterogeneous environment. To gain sufficient insight into temporal biodiversity change, we require studies of species distributions detailing species habitat preferences.

The population biology, habitat utilisation and diet of a small, isolated population of long-nosed bandicoots (Perameles nasuta) was studied over a 22-month period at North Head in Sydney Harbour National Park, New South Wales. Reproductive output in this urban environment was high, with a mean litter size of 2.3 and production of up to four litters per year. The peak of reproductive activity was in late spring and early summer, with a cessation of breeding in late autumn or early winter. The main causes of death were identified as road trauma (58% – probably an overestimate because of the ease of finding road deaths) and predation by cats and foxes (37% – probably an underestimate because of the difficulty of locating carcasses unless radio-collared). Bandicoots utilised all macrohabitats (open grassed areas, heath, forest, swamp and scrub), but extensively used open grassed areas for foraging. Males had larger home ranges (4.4 ± 0.8 ha) than females (1.7 ± 0.2 ha). The largest home ranges of males coincided with the peak of the breeding season (September–November). Throughout the year P. nasuta fed primarily on beetles, invertebrate larvae and ants, but also on other invertebrates and on plant and fungal material. Some vertebrate and human- derived material (birdseed, vegetable scraps, plastic, twine) was also eaten. Although remarkably adaptable in its reproductive and dietary strategies, this population of long-nosed bandicoots is likely to follow other urban bandicoot populations toward extinction unless there is active management to reduce the high rate of mortality from motor vehicles and introduced predators.

Interest of consumers to products with improved nutritional value, which contribute to eliminating vitamin deficiency, micro- and macroelements, other essential substances is due to the expansion of knowledge and understanding of biochemical functions of these nutrients. Subject: use of beet syrup and beets in ketchup technology has been substantiated in a work; a comparative analysis of the chemical composition of sugar and beet syrup, tomatoes and beets has been conducted; formulations of ketchups with replacement of sugar for beet syrups and tomatoes for beets have been developed; the advantages of new formulations for human health have been substantiated; sensorial, physical and chemical parameters of finished ketchup have been investigated. Results: beet syrup is an unconventional sugar source. Beet syrup contains 93.5% of dry matter, 47-48% of which of total sugar, the most of which is sucrose. Content of beet syrup sugars has been determined by the method of high-performance liquid chromatography, which is, g/100 g: fructose 13.99; glucose 14.18; sucrose 20.39; maltose 0.20.At a temperature of 20 ºС, beet syrup has a high viscosity that is 29.0 Pa•s, which, when heated, decreases and at a temperature of 60 ºC and is about 2.0 Pa•s. The developed samples had the same thick consistency, sweet-sour taste inherent to the control sample. The content of dry matter in the samples was: №1 29.99 %, №2 31.86 %, control 28.66 %, with a normative value of not less than 25 %. The active acidity of samples № 1 and № 2 was 4.2 and 4.1 respectively, which corresponds to the established norms for ketchup. According to the chemical composition, the sugar content was, g/100 g: in the sample №1 13.7, №2 11.8, control 23.9; protein content in the sample №1 1.2, №2 1.4, in the control 0.9. According to the content of vitamin C and fiber, sample number 2, which contains beets and beet syrup, significantly exceeds the control sample. In addition to reduced sugar content by 42.7% and 50,6%, the salt content was also reduced in the developed samples of ketchup, this being a criterion for healthy food products.

Ecological metrics and assemblages of three orders of aquatic insects (Odonata, Coleoptera and Trichoptera—OCT) in an industrial canal system affected by dredging were studied. Five sites (a river as a control site and canals) along the Vistula River in Central Poland were sampled during six sampling periods (2011 and 2013). Canonical correspondence analyses (CCA) was used to assess the influence of environmental variables on the distribution of 54 insect species in the following system of habitats—a river feeding the canals, river-fed inlet canals and outlet canals with cooling waters. Additionally, before and after control impact (BACI) was used to test for the impact of canal dredging in 2011 on the insect response metrics. Non-metric multidimensional scaling analysis differentiated insect assemblages of the three habitats and similarity percentage (SIMPER) indicated the species most responsible for the faunistic dissimilarities. Temperature was found to be a key factor governing the presence of insects in the outlet canals with cooling water. CCAs revealed that electrolytic conductivity (EC) and salinity had the greatest influence on the OCT fauna in the river and the inlet canals, whilst it was the dissolved oxygen and the level of development of aquatic plants that proved most important in the outlet canals. Modified ANOVAs showed that dredging significantly affected the mean species richness and the dominance in the canals. The changes in OCT species composition were highly informative. The comparison between tolerance patterns of the OCT orders against the five parameters (temperature, EC, total dissolved solids (TDS), pH and current) revealed that caddisflies are the most sensitive group, followed by Coleoptera while Odonata proved the most resistant. Dragonflies have the greatest potential to serve as bioindicators of industrially heated waters. The OCT fauna responded specifically to different environmental factors and stressors, it is strongly recommended to track the responses on different levels, not only metrics, but above all, species.

Goal. The goal of the research was to develop effective Galinsoga parviflora control techniques in crops of field and vegetable crops, taking into account its biological and environmental features.
 Methods. Studies were perform 2010—2018 in industrial crops of 6 farms of the Steppe- and Forest-Steppe zones of Ukraine on ordinary black soil. Establishment of experiments, observations and counts in them carried out according to generally accepted methods.
 Results. The germination of G. parviflora seeds began when the soil was heated to 5°C. The number of seedlings increased until the end of May, reaching 56—149 pcs/m2, in the summer period it did not exceed 4.7—5.8 pcs/m2, and at the end of summer and early autumn it increased again to 96—322 pcs/m2, much of which had a dwarf form. The pre-sowing, post-sowing treatment and loosening of the soil or post-emergence herbicides during the period of planting, the second one — the main processing and mulching of the soil in the sowing were decisive in the control system of the first wave of the G. parviflora seedlings. Early autumn plowing (in August) with preliminary peeling, spring harrowing and leveling of the ЛК-2 soil reduced the potential debris by 58—63%, and the actual one by 1.1—1.6 times. Minimalization of the main tillage led to an increase in debris in crops twice. The efficiency of pre-emergence harrowing of crops in cloudy weather and with good soil moisture did not exceed 72%, and in warm sunny it was 93%. On irrigated lands and heavy soils, two loosening of the soil in between rows reduced the contamination of crops in comparison with the variant without loosening in 1.3—1.4, three — in 1.7—1.9, four–five — in 3.5—4.2 times. When mulching between crops 4—5 cm with a layer of straw at a height of cultivated plants of 8—15 cm, all the weeds died completely, 96% sawdust, 92% with agrofiber. In the years with cold spring, pre-emergence herbicides controlled 72—76%, and in warm years, 89—98% weeds. Post-harvest 3—4 spraying of crops of beets with Goltix herbicides (1.5—2.0 kg/ha) + Belvedere Forte (0.7—1.0 l/ha) starting from the seed of the cotyledon leaves at the weeds and every 7—14 days or 2 sprays in 10—15 days Betanal Progres (1.0—3.0 l/ha) + Caribou (0.03 kg/ ha) ensured their complete suppression. In oni­on crops, 90—95% of weeds were controlled by Galigan (0.75 l/ ha), carrots and green crops — Gezagard (2.5 l/ha), tomatoes and potatoes — Zenkor (0.5 l/ ha), corn sugar — Chaser-P (2.5 l/ ha) or Secateurs (0.15 kg/ha). Tape application of herbicides in combination with inter-row loosening ensured the destruction of 97—99% of weeds while reducing the costs of herbicides by 68—73%.
 Conclusions. The most effective control of G. parviflora is achieved by conducting double-peeling, early plowing, autumn cultivation, spring harrowing, leveling the soil and 3—4 times loose­ning the inter-row spacing of crops. The high control effect of G. parviflora in crops of beets is given by the use of post-harvest herbicides Holtix + Belvedere Forte, Betanal Progres + Caribou, onions — Galigan, carrots and green crops — Gezagard, tomatoes and potatoes — Zencore, sugar corn — Chaser-P or Secateurs. The total death of G. parviflora and other weeds is ensured by mulching of crops 4—5 cm with a layer of straw or sawdust.

Lowland heathlands dominated by Calluna vulgaris are a characteristic ecosystem of the sandy soils of Northwestern Europe. Many of these heathlands have been converted to agricultural lands in the 20th century, but because increasing recognition of their nature conservation value has led to an increase in restoration efforts. Since about 2005, several experiments were carried out in a number of former agricultural areas in the Netherlands with the aim of accelerating the succession in vegetation and surface-dwelling fauna towards heathland. We discuss two projects in which the monitoring of the beetle fauna using pitfall traps was carried out. In the new reserve “Reijerscamp”, situated in the Central Netherlands, a 10-year monitoring project was carried out in an abandoned sandy field area of ca 200 ha from 2006-2015. The area consisted of a former grain field and a grass seed nursery, with small wooded areas here and there and the aim is to enlarge the area of dry heathland. In 2006, at four 5-10 ha locations, a few hundred meters apart, the nutrient-rich topsoil layer was removed, and the Pleistocene sand exposed. On a part of each of these sites, heather cuttings were deposited to accelerate the formation of dry heathland. The study consisted of five sampling years spread over the entire study period. In each sampling year, 15-25 series of 5 pitfalls were used to sample the reserve during the period April – October, on the untreated, former agricultural parts and on the four parts with removed top soil, both on the bare sand and on the parts with heather deposition. The results for ground beetles, did not support the hypothesis in all respects. From the results, it became clear that creating environmental heterogeneity, generally contributes to the ground beetle diversity in the reserve. However, the period of ten years was too short to show a clear indication that the faunal succession is moving towards a heathland fauna. The first years showed an interesting fauna with a lot of stenotopic, rare and unexpected species and the local diversity was very high. Halfway through the investigation period, the number of species as well as the numbers of individuals declined. After ten years, in general the character of the fauna was significantly more eurytopic and many of the rare species occurring in the first years vanished. On the four sites with removed topsoil, the carabid fauna differed significantly from the former agricultural land, but there was only a minor difference in the fauna of the parts with only bare sand and those with deposit of heath cuttings, although a clear heathland vegetation was visible in the parts with deposits. Because the area is surrounded by agricultural land and a large forested area, there is hardly direct connection to heathland that can serve as a source for immigration of characteristic heathland species with low dispersal power.. The succession to a typical heathland fauna in this reserve will therefore probably take probably several decades. Immediately adjacent to the National park “Dwingelderveld” (in the north of the Netherlands) the “Noorderveld”, consisting of 200 ha of arable field was acquired for nature restoration. Also here, the aim was to convert this area into heathland by removing the nutrient-rich topsoil layer in 2012-2013, to a depth of more than 60 cm, thus creating a seedless sterile substrate, poor in nutrients. After the topsoil removal, a full factorial experiment of pH manipulation and biotic additions at wet and dry sites was set up to accelerate the process of heathland restoration. Each of 27 plots (9 x 9 meters), received either a liming treatment, acidification or neither, in combination with either heathland sods, heath cuttings, or neither, totaling 9 treatment combinations. From 2013 till 2018 the carabid fauna was monitored frequently by pitfall catches in the plot’s centers. In the first years the highest diversity was observed in the plots with lime and sod cuttings and also the most characteristic heathland ground beetle species were found at these plots. Later on, these differences became less significant, which may be due to the relatively small size of the plots, which hardly can be regarded independent of each other. Conclusion is still that adding lime and sods is the best way for heathland restoration, but the differences with the control treatment were small. The striking result of the present comparison is that the Noorderveld was rather quickly inhabited by characteristic heathland species. This may be due to the fact that latter is directly connected to the vast heathland complex of the national park Dwingelderveld, in contrast to the Reijerscamp, which is isolated from the closest heathlands by a railroad, a highway, large forests and a highly agricultural landscape. connectivity therefore seems to be a crucial condition for characteristic species to colonize new territory, especially for species with low dispersal powers.

Sus scrofa domesticus limbs were obtained as a human proxy to study the effects of five distinct materials used in published methods of flesh removal: Dermestes lardarius beetles (also referred to as dermestids), distilled-water boil, bleach boil, enzyme-based detergent simmer, and ammonia simmer. Each method was evaluated based on a set of specific criteria, focusing on time efficiency, macroscopic damage, and the effects on DNA preservation and potential for future analysis. 
 While the dermestid beetles had the longest time-expectancy and was the most labor-intensive, they caused minimal damage to the bone surface and did not appear to affect the DNA preservation. Heated maceration methods sped up the process considerably, but that often led to decreased DNA quantity and minimal to severe amounts of macroscopic damage. The ammonia simmer method was the only method tested that was found in zoological literature but did not appear to have any published use within the forensic field, operating occasionally instead as a degreasing agent. While the ammonia was the most potent of the methods, it was efficient, low-cost, and left amplifiable DNA, perhaps indicating a potential future in more forensic contexts. 
 Each method proved to have different advantages and disadvantages, with no method performing the best or worst in every evaluated criteria. The results of this research highlight how differently each method performs and how easily bone material can be affected. Method selection can severely impact later research and analysis and the choice demands to be made with consideration and awareness of the potential risks and desired results.

This essay combines life writing with meditations on the significance of walking as integral to the ritual practice of pilgrimage, where the individual improves her soul or health through the act of walking to a shrine containing healing relics of a saint. Braiding together insights from medieval literature, contemporary ecocriticism, and memory studies, I reflect on my own pilgrimage practice as it impacts the land itself. Canterbury, England serves as the central shrine for four pilgrimages over decades: 1966, 1994, 1997, and 2003.The act of memory was not invented in the Anthropocene. Rather, the nonhuman world has taught humans how to remember. From ice-core samples retaining the history of Europe’s weather to rocks embedded with fossilized extinct species, nonhuman actors literally petrifying or freezing the past—from geologic sites to frozen water—become exposed through the process of anthropocentric discovery and human interference. The very act of human uncovery and analysis threatens to eliminate the nonhuman actor which has hospitably shared its own experience. How can humans script nonhuman memory?As for the history of memory studies itself, a new phase is arguably beginning, shifting from “the transnational, transcultural, or global to the planetary; from recorded to deep history; from the human to the nonhuman” (Craps et al. 3). Memory studies for the Anthropocene can “focus on the terrestrialized significance of (the historicized) forms of remembrance but also on the positioning of who is remembering and, ultimately, which ‘Anthropocene’ is remembered” (Craps et al. 5). In this era of the “self-conscious Anthropocene” (Craps et al. 6), narrative itself can focus on “the place of nonhuman beings in human stories of origins, identity, and futures point to a possible opening for the methods of memory studies” (Craps et al. 8). The nonhuman on the paths of this essay range from the dirt on the path to the rock used to build the sacred shrine, the ultimate goal. How they intersect with human actors reveals how the “human subject is no longer the one forming the world, but does indeed constitute itself through its relation to and dependence on the object world” (Marcussen 14, qtd. in Rodriguez 378). Incorporating “nonhuman species as objects, if not subjects, of memory [...] memory critics could begin by extending their objects to include the memory of nonhuman species,” linking both humans and nonhumans in “an expanded multispecies frame of remembrance” (Craps et al. 9). My narrative—from diaries recording sacred journey to a novel structured by pilgrimage—propels motion, but also secures in memory events from the past, including memories of those nonhuman beings I interact with.Childhood PilgrimageThe little girl with brown curls sat crying softly, whimpering, by the side of the road in lush grass. The mother with her soft brown bangs and an underflip to her hair told the story of a little girl, sitting by the side of the road in lush grass.The story book girl had forgotten her Black Watch plaid raincoat at the picnic spot where she had lunched with her parents and two older brothers. Ponchos spread out, the family had eaten their fresh yeasty rolls, hard cheese, apples, and macaroons. The tin clink of the canteen hit their teeth as they gulped metallic water, still icy cold from the taps of the ancient inn that morning. The father cut slices of Edam with his Swiss army knife, parsing them out to each child to make his or her own little sandwich. The father then lay back for his daily nap, while the boys played chess. The portable wooden chess set had inlaid squares, each piece no taller than a fingernail paring. The girl read a Junior Puffin book, while the mother silently perused Agatha Christie. The boy who lost at chess had to play his younger sister, a fitting punishment for the less able player. She cheerfully played with either brother. Once the father awakened, they packed up their gear into their rucksacks, and continued the pilgrimage to Canterbury.Only the little Black Watch plaid raincoat was left behind.The real mother told the real girl that the story book family continued to walk, forgetting the raincoat until it began to rain. The men pulled on their ponchos and the mother her raincoat, when the little girl discovered her raincoat missing. The story book men walked two miles back while the story book mother and girl sat under the dripping canopy of leaves provided by a welcoming tree.And there, the real mother continued, the storybook girl cried and whimpered, until a magic taxi cab in which the father and boys sat suddenly appeared out of the mist to drive the little girl and her mother to their hotel.The real girl’s eyes shone. “Did that actually happen?” she asked, perking up in expectation.“Oh, yes,” said the real mother, kissing her on the brow. The girl’s tears dried. Only the plops of rain made her face moist. The little girl, now filled with hope, cuddled with her mother as they huddled together.Without warning, out of the mist, drove up a real magic taxi cab in which the real men sat. For magic taxi cabs really exist, even in the tangible world—especially in England. At the very least, in the England of little Susie’s imagination.Narrative and PilgrimageMy mother’s tale suggests how this story echoes in yet another pilgrimage story, maintaining a long tradition of pilgrimage stories embedded within frame tales as far back as the Middle Ages.The Christian pilgrim’s walk parallels Christ’s own pilgrimage to Emmaus. The blisters we suffer echo faintly the lash Christ endured. The social relations of the pilgrim are “diachronic” (Alworth 98), linking figures (Christ) from the past to the now (us, or, during the Middle Ages, William Langland’s Piers Plowman or Chaucer’s band who set out from Southwark). We embody the frame of the vera icon, the true image, thus “conjur[ing] a site of simultaneity or a plane of immanence where the actors of the past [...] meet those of the future” (Alworth 99). Our quotidian walk frames the true essence or meaning of our ambulatory travail.In 1966, my parents took my two older brothers and me on the Pilgrims’ Way—not the route from London to Canterbury that Chaucer’s pilgrims would have taken starting south of London in Southwark, rather the ancient trek from Winchester to Canterbury, famously chronicled in The Old Road by Hilaire Belloc. The route follows along the south side of the Downs, where the muddy path was dried by what sun there was. My parents first undertook the walk in the early 1950s. Slides from that pilgrimage depict my mother, voluptuous in her cashmere twinset and tweed skirt, as my father crosses a stile. My parents, inspired by Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales, decided to walk along the traditional Pilgrims’ Way to Canterbury. Story intersects with material traversal over earth on dirt-laden paths.By the time we children came along, the memories of that earlier pilgrimage resonated with my parents, inspiring them to take us on the same journey. We all carried our own rucksacks and walked five or six miles a day. Concerning our pilgrimage when I was seven, my mother wrote in her diary:As good pilgrims should, we’ve been telling tales along the way. Yesterday Jimmy told the whole (detailed) story of That Darn Cat, a Disney movie. Today I told about Stevenson’s Travels with a Donkey, which first inspired me to think of walking trips and everyone noted the resemblance between Stevenson’s lovable, but balky, donkey and our sweet Sue. (We hadn’t planned to tell tales, but they just happened along the way.)I don’t know how sweet I was; perhaps I was “balky” because the road was so hard. Landscape certainly shaped my experience.As I wrote about the pilgrimage in my diary then, “We went to another Hotel and walked. We went and had lunch at the Boggly [booglie] place. We went to a nother hotel called The Swan with fether Quits [quilts]. We went to the Queens head. We went to the Gest house. We went to aother Hotle called Srping wells and my tooth came out. We saw some taekeys [turkeys].” The repetition suggests how pilgrimage combines various aspects of life, from the emotional to the physical, the quotidian (walking and especially resting—in hotels with quilts) with the extraordinary (newly sprung tooth or the appearance of turkeys). “[W]ayfaring abilities depend on an emotional connection to the environment” (Easterlin 261), whether that environment is modified by humans or even manmade, inhabited by human or nonhuman actors. How can one model an “ecological relationship between humans and nonhumans” in narrative (Rodriguez 368)? Rodriguez proposes a “model of reading as encounter [...] encountering fictional story worlds as potential models” (Rodriguez 368), just as my mother did with the Magic Taxi Cab story.Taxis proliferate in my childhood pilgrimage. My mother writes in 1966 in her diary of journeying along the Pilgrims’ Way to St. Martha’s on the Hill. “Susie was moaning and groaning under her pack and at one desperate uphill moment gasped out, ‘Let’s take a taxi!’ – our highborn lady as we call her. But we finally made it.” “Martha’s”, as I later learned, is a corruption of “Martyrs”, a natural linguistic decay that developed over the medieval period. Just as the vernacular textures pilgrimage poems in the fourteeth century, the common tongue in all its glorious variety seeps into even the quotidian modern pilgrim’s journey.Part of the delight of pilgrimage lies in the characters one meets and the languages they speak. In 1994, the only time my husband and I cheated on a strictly ambulatory sacred journey occurred when we opted to ride a bus for ten miles where walking would have been dangerous. When I ask the bus driver if a stop were ours, he replied, “I'll give you a shout, love.” As though in a P. G. Wodehouse novel, when our stop finally came, he cried out, “Cheerio, love” to me and “Cheerio, mate” to Jim.Language changes. Which is a good thing. If it didn’t, it would be dead, like those martyrs of old. Like Latin itself. Disentangling pilgrimage from language proves impossible. The healthy ecopoetics of languages meshes with the sustainable vibrancy of the land we traverse.“Nettles of remorse…”: Derek Walcott, The Bounty Once my father had to carry me past a particularly tough patch of nettles. As my mother tells it, we “went through orchards and along narrow woodland path with face-high nettles. Susie put a scarf over her face and I wore a poncho though it was sunny and we survived almost unscathed.” Certain moments get preserved by the camera. At age seven in a field outside of Wye, I am captured in my father’s slides surrounded by grain. At age thirty-five, I am captured in film by my husband in the same spot, in the identical pose, though now quite a bit taller than the grain. Three years later, as a mother, I in turn snap him with a backpack containing baby Sarah, grumpily gazing off over the fields.When I was seven, we took off from Detling. My mother writes, “set off along old Pilgrims’ Way. Road is paved now, but much the same as fifteen years ago. Saw sheep, lambs, and enjoyed lovely scenery. Sudden shower sent us all to a lunch spot under trees near Thurnham Court, where we huddled under ponchos and ate happily, watching the weather move across the valley. When the sun came to us, we continued on our way which was lovely, past sheep, etc., but all on hard paved road, alas. Susie was a good little walker, but moaned from time to time.”I seem to whimper and groan a lot on pilgrimage. One thing is clear: the physical aspects of walking for days affected my phenomenological response to our pilgrimage which we’d undertaken both as historical ritual, touristic nature hike, and what Wendell Berry calls a “secular pilgrimage” (402), where the walker seeks “the world of the Creation” (403) in a “return to the wilderness in order to be restored” (416). The materiality of my experience was key to how I perceived this journey as a spiritual, somatic, and emotional event. The link between pilgrimage and memory, between pilgrimage poetics and memorial methods, occupies my thoughts on pilgrimage. As Nancy Easterlin’s work on “cognitive ecocriticism” (“Cognitive” 257) contends, environmental knowledge is intimately tied in with memory (“Cognitive” 260). She writes: “The advantage of extensive environmental knowledge most surely precipitates the evolution of memory, necessary to sustain vast knowledge” (“Cognitive” 260). Even today I can recall snatches of moments from that trip when I was a child, including the telling of tales.Landscape not only changes the writer, but writing transforms the landscape and our interaction with it. As Valerie Allen suggests, “If the subject acts upon the environment, so does the environment upon the subject” (“When Things Break” 82). Indeed, we can understand the “road as a strategic point of interaction between human and environment” (Allen and Evans 26; see also Oram)—even, or especially, when that interaction causes pain and inflames blisters. My relationship with moleskin on my blasted and blistered toes made me intimately conscious of my body with every step taken on the pilgrimage route.As an adult, my boots on the way from Winchester to Canterbury pinched and squeezed, packed dirt acting upon them and, in turn, my feet. After taking the train home and upon arrival in London, we walked through Bloomsbury to our flat on Russell Square, passing by what I saw as a new, less religious, but no less beckoning shrine: The London Foot Hospital at Fitzroy Square.Now, sadly, it is closed. Where do pilgrims go for sole—and soul—care?Slow Walking as WayfindingAll pilgrimages come to an end, just as, in 1966, my mother writes of our our arrival at last in Canterbury:On into Canterbury past nice grassy cricket field, where we sat and ate chocolate bars while we watched white-flannelled cricketers at play. Past town gates to our Queen’s Head Inn, where we have the smallest, slantingest room in the world. Everything is askew and we’re planning to use our extra pillows to brace our feet so we won’t slide out of bed. Children have nice big room with 3 beds and are busy playing store with pounds and shillings [that’s very hard mathematics!]. After dinner, walked over to cathedral, where evensong was just ending. Walked back to hotel and into bed where we are now.Up to early breakfast, dashed to cathedral and looked up, up, up. After our sins were forgiven, we picked up our rucksacks and headed into London by train.This experience in 1966 varies slightly from the one in 1994. Jim and I walk through a long walkway of tall, slim trees arching over us, a green, lush and silent cloister, finally gaining our first view of Canterbury with me in a similar photo to one taken almost thirty years before. We make our way into the city through the West Gate, first passing by St. Dunstan’s Church where Henry II had put on penitential garb and later Sir Thomas More’s head was buried. Canterbury is like Coney Island in the Middle Ages and still is: men with dreadlocks and slinky didjeridoos, fire tossers, mobs of people, tourists. We go to Mercery Lane as all good pilgrims should and under the gate festooned with the green statue of Christ, arriving just in time for evensong.Imagining a medieval woman arriving here and listening to the service, I pray to God my gratefulness for us having arrived safely. I can understand the fifteenth-century pilgrim, Margery Kempe, screaming emotionally—maybe her feet hurt like mine. I’m on the verge of tears during the ceremony: so glad to be here safe, finally got here, my favorite service, my beloved husband. After the service, we pass on through the Quire to the spot where St. Thomas’s relic sanctuary was. People stare at a lit candle commemorating it. Tears well up in my eyes.I suppose some things have changed since the Middle Ages. One Friday in Canterbury with my children in 2003 has some parallels with earlier iterations. Seven-year-old Sarah and I go to evensong at the Cathedral. I tell her she has to be absolutely quiet or the Archbishop will chop off her head.She still has her head.Though the road has been paved, the view has remained virtually unaltered. Some aspects seem eternal—sheep, lambs, and stiles dotting the landscape. The grinding down of the pilgrimage path, reflecting the “slowness of flat ontology” (Yates 207), occurs over vast expanses of time. Similarly, Easterlin reflects on human and more than human vitalism: “Although an understanding of humans as wayfinders suggests a complex and dynamic interest on the part of humans in the environment, the surround itself is complex and dynamic and is frequently in a state of change as the individual or group moves through it” (Easterlin “Cognitive” 261). An image of my mother in the 1970s by a shady tree along the Pilgrims’ Way in England shows that the path is lower by 6 inches than the neighboring verge (Bright 4). We don’t see dirt evolving, because its changes occur so slowly. Only big time allows us to see transformative change.Memorial PilgrimageOddly, the erasure of self through duplication with a precursor occurred for me while reading W.G. Sebald’s pilgrimage novel, The Rings of Saturn. I had experienced my own pilgrimage to many of these same locations he immortalizes. I, too, had gone to Somerleyton Hall with my elderly mother, husband, and two children. My memories, sacred shrines pooling in familial history, are infused with synchronic reflection, medieval to contemporary—my parents’ periodic sojourns in Suffolk for years, leading me to love the very landscape Sebald treks across; sadness at my parents’ decline; hope in my children’s coming to add on to their memory palimpsest a layer devoted to this land, to this history, to this family.Then, the oddest coincidence from my reading pilgrimage. After visiting Dunwich Heath, Sebald comes to his friend, Michael, whose wife Anne relays a story about a local man hired as a pallbearer by the local undertaker in Westleton. This man, whose memory was famously bad, nevertheless reveled in the few lines allotted him in an outdoor performance of King Lear. After her relating this story, Sebald asks for a taxi (Sebald 188-9).This might all seem unremarkable to the average reader. Yet, “human wayfinders are richly aware of and responsive to environment, meaning both physical places and living beings, often at a level below consciousness” (Easterlin “Cognitive” 265). For me, with a connection to this area, I startled with recollection emerging from my subconscience. The pallbearer’s name in Sebald’s story was Mr Squirrel, the very same name of the taxi driver my parents—and we—had driven with many times. The same Mr Squirrel? How many Mr Squirrels can there be in this small part of Suffolk? Surely it must be the same family, related in a genetic encoding of memory. I run to my archives. And there, in my mother’s address book—itself a palimpsest of time with names and addressed scored through; pasted-in cards, names, and numbers; and looseleaf memoranda—there, on the first page under “S”, “Mr. Squirrel” in my mother’s unmistakable scribble. She also had inscribed his phone number and the village Saxmundum, seven miles from Westleton. His name had been crossed out. Had he died? Retired? I don’t know. Yet quick look online tells me Squirrell’s Taxis still exists, as it does in my memory.Making KinAfter accompanying a class on a bucolic section of England’s Pilgrims’ Way, seven miles from Wye to Charing, we ended up at a pub drinking a pint, with which all good pilgrimages should conclude. There, students asked me why I became a medievalist who studies pilgrimage. Only after the publication of my first book on women pilgrims did I realize that the origin of my scholarly, long fascination with pilgrimage, blossoming into my professional career, began when I was seven years old along the way to Canterbury. The seeds of that pilgrimage when I was so young bore fruit and flowers decades later.One story illustrates Michel Serres’s point that we should not aim to appropriate the world, but merely act as temporary tenants (Serres 72-3). On pilgrimage in 1966 as a child, I had a penchant for ant spiders. That was not the only insect who took my heart. My mother shares how “Susie found a beetle up on the hill today and put him in the cheese box. Jimmy put holes in the top for him. She named him Alexander Beetle and really became very fond of him. After supper, we set him free in the garden here, with appropriate ceremony and a few over-dramatic tears of farewell.” He clearly made a great impression on me. I yearn for him today, that beetle in the cheese box. Though I tried to smuggle nature as contraband, I ultimately had to set him free.Passing through cities, landscape, forests, over seas and on roads, wandering by fields and vegetable patches, under a sky lit both by sun and moon, the pilgrim—even when in a group of fellow pilgrims—in her lonesome exercise endeavors to realize Serres’ ideal of the tenant inhabitant of earth. Nevertheless, we, as physical pilgrims, inevitably leave our traces through photos immortalizing the journey, trash left by the wayside, even excretions discretely deposited behind a convenient bush. Or a beetle who can tell the story of his adventure—or terror—at being ensconced for a time in a cheese box.On one notorious day of painful feet, my husband and I arrived in Otford, only to find the pub was still closed. Finally, it became time for dinner. We sat outside, me with feet ensconced in shoes blessedly inert and unmoving, as the server brought out our salads. The salad cream, white and viscous, was presented in an elegantly curved silver dish. Then Jim began to pick at the salad cream with his fork. Patiently, tenderly, he endeavored to assist a little bug who had gotten trapped in the gooey sauce. Every attempt seemed doomed to failure. The tiny creature kept falling back into the gloppy substance. Undaunted, Jim compassionately ministered to our companion. Finally, the little insect flew off, free to continue its own pilgrimage, which had intersected with ours in a tiny moment of affinity. Such moments of “making kin” work, according to Donna Haraway, as “life-saving strateg[ies] for the Anthropocene” (Oppermann 3, qtd. in Haraway 160).How can narrative avoid the anthropocentric centre of writing, which is inevitable given the human generator of such a piece? While words are a human invention, nonhuman entities vitally enact memory. The very Downs we walked along were created in the Cretaceous period at least seventy million years ago. The petrol propelling the magic taxi cab was distilled from organic bodies dating back millions of years. Jurassic limestone from the Bathonian Age almost two hundred million years ago constitutes the Caen stone quarried for building Canterbury Cathedral, while its Purbeck marble from Dorset dates from the Cretaceous period. Walking on pilgrimage propels me through a past millions—billions—of eons into the past, dwarfing my speck of existence. Yet, “if we wish to cross the darkness which separates us from [the past] we must lay down a little plank of words and step delicately over it” (Barfield 23). Elias Amidon asks us to consider how “the ground we dig into and walk upon is sacred. It is sacred because it makes us neighbors to each other, whether we like it or not. Tell this story” (Amidon 42). And, so, I have.We are winding down. Time has passed since that first pilgrimage of mine at seven years old. Yet now, here, I still put on my red plaid wollen jumper and jacket, crisp white button-up shirt, grey knee socks, and stout red walking shoes. Slinging on my rucksack, I take my mother’s hand.I’m ready to take my first step.We continue our pilgrimage, together.ReferencesAllen, Valerie. “When Things Break: Mending Rroads, Being Social.” Roadworks: Medieval Britain, Medieval Roads. Eds. Valerie Allen and Ruth Evans. Manchester: Manchester UP, 2016.———, and Ruth Evans. Introduction. Roadworks: Medieval Britain, Medieval Roads. Eds. Valerie Allen and Ruth Evans. Manchester: Manchester UP, 2016.Alworth, David J. Site Reading: Fiction, Art, Social Form. Princeton: Princeton UP, 2016.Amidon, Elias. “Digging In.” Dirt: A Love Story. Ed. Barbara Richardson. Lebanon, NH: ForeEdge, 2015.Barfield, Owen. History in English Words. Grand Rapids: William B. 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“I’m fat–and it’s okay! It doesn’t mean I’m stupid, or ugly, or lazy, or selfish. I’m fat!” so proclaims Joy Nash in her YouTube video, A Fat Rant. “Fat! It’s three little letters–what are you afraid of?!” This is the question I pose to my class on day one of Fat Studies. Sadly, many college students do fear fat, and negative attitudes toward fat people are quite prevalent in this population (Ambwani et al. 366). As I teach it, Fat Studies is cross-listed between Psychology and Gender Studies. However, most students who enrol have majors in Psychology or other behavioural health science fields in which weight bias is particularly pronounced (Watkins and Concepcion 159). Upon finding stronger bias among third- versus first-year Physical Education students, O’Brien, Hunter, and Banks (308) speculated that the weight-centric curriculum that typifies this field actively engenders anti-fat attitudes. Based on their exploration of textbook content, McHugh and Kasardo (621) contend that Psychology too is complicit in propagating weight bias by espousing weight-centric messages throughout the curriculum. Such messages include the concepts that higher body weight invariably leads to poor health, weight control is simply a matter of individual choice, and dieting is an effective means of losing weight and improving health (Tylka et al.). These weight-centric tenets are, however, highly contested. For instance, there exists a body of research so vast that it has its own name, the “obesity paradox” literature. This literature (McAuley and Blair 773) entails studies that show that “obese” persons with chronic disease have relatively better survival rates and that a substantial portion of “overweight” and “obese” individuals have levels of metabolic health similar to or better than “normal” weight individuals (e.g., Flegal et al. 71). Finally, the “obesity paradox” literature includes studies showing that cardiovascular fitness is a far better predictor of mortality than weight. In other words, individuals may be both fit and fat, or conversely, unfit and thin (Barry et al. 382). In addition, Tylka et al. review literature attesting to the complex causes of weight status that extend beyond individual behaviour, ranging from genetic predispositions to sociocultural factors beyond personal control. Lastly, reviews of research on dieting interventions show that these are overwhelmingly ineffective in producing lasting weight loss or actual improvements in health and may in fact lead to disordered eating and other unanticipated adverse consequences (e.g., Bacon and Aphramor; Mann et al. 220; Salas e79; Tylka et al.).The newfound, interdisciplinary field of scholarship known as Fat Studies aims to debunk weight-centric misconceptions by elucidating findings that counter these mainstream suppositions. Health At Every Size® (HAES), a weight-neutral approach to holistic well-being, is an important facet of Fat Studies. The HAES paradigm advocates intuitive eating and pleasurable physical activity for health rather than restrictive dieting and regimented exercise for weight loss. HAES further encourages body acceptance of self and others regardless of size. Empirical evidence shows that HAES-based interventions improve physical and psychological health without harmful side-effects or high dropout rates associated with weight loss interventions (Bacon and Aphramor; Clifford et al. “Impact of Non-Diet Approaches” 143). HAES, like the broader field of Fat Studies, seeks to eradicate weight-based discrimination, positioning weight bias as a social justice issue that intersects with oppression based on other areas of difference such as gender, race, and social class. Much like Queer Studies, Fat Studies seeks to reclaim the word, fat, thus stripping it of its pejorative connotations. As Nash asserts in her video, “Fat is a descriptive physical characteristic. It’s not an insult, or an obscenity, or a death sentence!” As an academic discipline, Fat Studies is expanding its visibility and reach. The Fat Studies Reader, the primary source of reading for my course, provides a comprehensive overview of the field (Rothblum and Solovay 1). This interdisciplinary anthology addresses fat history and activism, fat as social inequality, fat in healthcare, and fat in popular culture. Ward (937) reviews this and other recently-released fat-friendly texts. The field features its own journal, Fat Studies: An Interdisciplinary Journal of Body Weight and Society, which publishes original research, overview articles, and reviews of assorted media. Both the Popular Culture Association and National Women’s Studies Association have special interest groups devoted to Fat Studies, and the American Psychological Association’s Division on the Psychology of Women has recently formed a task force on sizism (Bergen and Carrizales 22). Furthermore, Fat Studies conferences have been held in Australia and New Zealand, and the third annual Weight Stigma Conference will occur in Iceland, September 2015. Although the latter conference is not necessarily limited to those who align themselves with Fat Studies, keynote speakers include Ragen Chastain, a well-known member of the fat acceptance movement largely via her blog, Dances with Fat. The theme of this year’s conference, “Institutionalised Weightism: How to Challenge Oppressive Systems,” is consistent with Fat Studies precepts:This year’s theme focuses on the larger social hierarchies that favour thinness and reject fatness within western culture and how these systems have dictated the framing of fatness within the media, medicine, academia and our own identities. What can be done to oppose systemised oppression? What can be learned from the fight for social justice and equality within other arenas? Can research and activism be united to challenge prevailing ideas about fat bodies?Concomitantly, Fat Studies courses have begun to appear on college campuses. Watkins, Farrell, and Doyle-Hugmeyer (180) identified and described four Fat Studies and two HAES courses that were being taught in the U.S. and abroad as of 2012. Since then, a Fat Studies course has been taught online at West Virginia University and another will soon be offered at Washington State University. Additionally, a new HAES class has been taught at Saint Mary’s College of California during the last two academic years. Cameron (“Toward a Fat Pedagogy” 28) describes ways in which nearly 30 instructors from five different countries have incorporated fat studies pedagogy into university courses across an array of academic areas. This growing trend is manifested in The Fat Pedagogy Reader (Russell and Cameron) due out later this year. In this article, I describe content and pedagogical strategies that I use in my Fat Studies course. I then share students’ qualitative reactions, drawing upon excerpts from written assignments. During the term reported here, the class was comprised of 17 undergraduate and 5 graduate students. Undergraduate majors included 47% in Psychology, 24% in Women Studies, 24% in various other College of Liberal Arts fields, and 6% in the College of Public Health. Graduate majors included 40% in the College of Public Health and 60% in the College of Education. Following submission of final grades, students provided consent via email allowing written responses on assignments to be anonymously incorporated into research reports. Assignments drawn upon for this report include weekly reading reactions to specific journal articles in which students were to summarise the main points, identify and discuss a specific quote or passage that stood out to them, and consider and discuss applicability of the information in the article. This report also utilises responses to a final assignment in which students were to articulate take-home lessons from the course.Despite the catalogue description, many students enter Fat Studies with a misunderstanding of what the course entails. Some admitted that they thought the course was about reducing obesity and the presumed health risks associated with this alleged pathological condition (Watkins). Others understood, but were somewhat dubious, at least at the outset, “Before I began this class, I admit that I was skeptical of what Fat Studies meant.” Another student experienced “a severe cognitive dissonance” between the Fat Studies curriculum and that of a previous behavioural health class:My professor spent the entire quarter spouting off statistics, such as the next generation of children will be the first generation to have a lower life expectancy than their parents and the ever increasing obesity rates that are putting such a tax on our health care system, and I took her words to heart. I was scared for myself and for the populations I would soon be working with. I was worried that I was destined to a chronic disease and bothered that my BMI was two points above ‘normal.’ I believed everything my professor alluded to on the danger of obesity because it was things I had heard in the media and was led to believe all my life.Yet another related, “At first, I will be honest, it was hard for me to accept a lot of this information, but throughout the term every class changed my mind about my view of fat people.” A few students have voiced even greater initial resistance. During a past term, one student lamented that the material represented an attack on her intended behavioural health profession. Cameron (“Learning to Teach Everybody”) describes comparable reactions among students in her Critical Obesity course taught within a behavioural health science unit. Ward (937) attests that, even in Gender Studies, fat is the topic that creates the most controversy. Similarly, she describes students’ immense discomfort when asked to entertain perspectives that challenge deeply engrained ideas inculcated by our culture’s “obesity epidemic.” Discomfort, however, is not necessarily antithetical to learning. In prompting students to unlearn “the biomedically-informed truth of obesity, namely that fat people are unfit, unhealthy, and in need of ‘saving’ through expert interventions,” Moola at al. recommend equipping them with an “ethics of discomfort” (217). No easy task, “It requires courage to ask our students to forgo the security of prescriptive health messaging in favour of confusion and uncertainty” (221). I encourage students to entertain conflicting perspectives by assigning empirically-based articles emanating from peer-reviewed journals in their own disciplines that challenge mainstream discourses on obesity (e.g., Aphramor; Bombak e60; Tomiyama, Ahlstrom, and Mann 861). Students whose training is steeped in the scientific method seem to appreciate having quantitative data at their disposal to convince themselves–and their peers and professors–that widely held weight-centric beliefs and practices may not be valid. One student remarked, “Since I have taken this course, I feel like I am prepared to discuss the fallacy of the weight-health relationship,” citing specific articles that would aid in the effort. Likewise, Cameron’s (“Learning to Teach Everybody”) students reported a need to read research reports in order to begin questioning long-held beliefs.In addition, I assign readings that provide students with the opportunity to hear the voices of fat people themselves, a cornerstone of Fat Studies. Besides chapters in The Fat Studies Reader authored by scholars and activists who identify as fat, I assign qualitative articles (e.g., Lewis et al.) and narrative reports (e.g., Pause 42) in which fat people describe their experiences with weight and weight bias. Additionally, I provide positive images of fat people via films and websites (Clifford et al. HAES®; Watkins; Watkins and Doyle-Hugmeyer 177) in order to counteract the preponderance of negative, dehumanising portrayals in popular media (e.g., Ata and Thompson 41). In response, a student stated:One of the biggest things I took away from this term was the confidence I found in fat women through films and stories. They had more confidence than I have seen in any tiny girl and owned the body they were given.I introduce “normal” weight allies as well, most especially Linda Bacon whose treatise on thin privilege tends to set the stage for viewing weight bias as a form of oppression (Bacon). One student observed, “It was a relief to be able to read and talk about weight oppression in a classroom setting for once.” Another appreciated that “The class did a great job at analysing fat as oppression and not like a secondhand oppression as I have seen in my past classes.” Typically, fat students were already aware of weight-based privilege and oppression, often painfully so. Thinner students, however, were often astonished by this concept, several describing Bacon’s article as “eye-opening.” In reaction, many vowed to act as allies:This class has really opened my eyes and prepared me to be an ally to fat people. It will be difficult for some time while I try to get others to understand my point of view on fat people but I believe once there are enough allies, people’s minds will really start changing and it will benefit everyone for the better.Pedagogically, I choose to share my own experiences as they relate to course content and encourage students, at least in their written assignments, to do the same. Other instructors refrain from this practice for fear of reinforcing traditional discourses or eliciting detrimental reactions from students (Watkins, Farrell, and Doyle-Hugmeyer 191). Nevertheless, this tack seems to work well in my course, with many students opting to disclose their relevant circumstances during classroom discussions: Throughout the term I very much valued and appreciated when classmates would share their experiences. I love listening and hearing to others experiences and I think that is a great way to understand the material and learn from one another.It really helped to read different articles and hear classmates discuss and share stories that I was able to relate to. The idea of hearing people talk about issues that I thought I was the only one who dealt with was so refreshing and enlightening.The structure of this class allowed me to learn how this information is applicable to my life and made it deeper than just memorising information.Thus far, across three terms, no student has described iatrogenic effects from this process. In fact, most attribute positive transformations to the class. These include enhanced body acceptance of self and others: This class decreased my fat phobia towards others and gave me a better understanding about the intersectionality of one’s weight. For example, I now feel that I no longer view my family in a fat phobic way and I also feel responsible for educating my brother and helping him develop a strong self-esteem regardless of his size.I never thought this class would change my life, almost save my life. Through studies shown in class and real life people following their dreams, it made my mind completely change about how I view my body and myself.I can only hope that in the future, I will be more forgiving, tolerant, and above all accepting of myself, much less others. Regardless of a person’s shape and size, we are all beautiful, and while I’m just beginning to understand this, it can only get better from here.Students also reported becoming more savvy consumers of weight-centric media messages as well as realigning their eating and exercise behaviour in accordance with HAES: I find myself disgusted at the television now, especially with the amount of diet ads, fitness club ads, and exercise equipment ads all aimed at making a ‘better you.’ I now know that I would never be better off with a SlimFast shake, P90X, or a Total Gym. I would be better off eating when I’m hungry, working out because it is fun, and still eating Thin Mints when I want to. Prior to this class, I would work out rigorously, running seven miles a day. Now I realise why at times I dreaded to work out, it was simply a mathematical system to burn the energy that I had acquired earlier in the day. Instead what I realise I should do is something I enjoy, that way I will never get tired of whatever I am doing. While I do enjoy running, other activities would bring more joy while engaging in a healthy lifestyle like hiking or mountain biking.I will never go on another diet. I will stop choosing exercises I don’t love to do. I will not weigh myself every single day hoping for the number on the scale to change.A reduction in self-weighing was perhaps the most frequent behaviour change that students expressed. This is particularly valuable in that frequent self-weighing is associated with disordered eating and unhealthy weight control behaviours (Neumark-Sztainer et al. 811):I have realised that the number on the scale is simply a number on the scale. That number does not define who you are. I have stopped weighing myself every morning. I put the scale in the storage closet so I don’t have to look at it. I even encouraged my roommate to stop weighing herself too. What has been most beneficial for me to take away from this class is the notion that the number on the scale has so much less to do with fitness levels than most people understand. Coming from a numbers obsessed person like myself, this class has actually gotten me to leave the scales behind. I used to weigh myself every single day and my self-confidence reflected whether I was up or down in weight from the day before. It seems so silly to me now. From this class, I take away a new outlook on body diversity. I will evaluate who I am for what I do and not represent myself with a number. I’m going to have my cake this time, and actually eat it too!Finally, students described ways in which they might carry the concepts from Fat Studies into their future professions: I want to go to law school. This model is something I will work toward in the fight for social justice.As a teacher and teacher of teachers, I plan to incorporate discussions on size diversity and how this should be addressed within the field of adapted physical education.I do not know how I would have gone forward if I had never taken this class. I probably would have continued to use weight loss as an effective measure of success for both nutrition and physical activity interventions. I will never be able to think about the obesity prevention movement in the same way.Since I am working toward being a clinical psychologist, I don’t want to have a client who is pursuing weight loss and then blindly believe that they need to lose weight. I’d rather be of the mindset that every person is unique, and that there are other markers of health at every size.Jones and Hughes-Decatur (59) call for increased scholarship illustrating and evaluating critical body pedagogies so that teachers might provide students with tools to critique dominant discourses, helping them forge healthy relationships with their own bodies in the process. As such, this paper describes elements of a Fat Studies class that other instructors may choose to adopt. It additionally presents qualitative data suggesting that students came to think about fat and fat people in new and divergent ways. Qualitative responses also suggest that students developed better body image and more adaptive eating and exercise behaviours throughout the term. Although no students have yet described lasting adverse effects from the class, one stated that she would have preferred less of a focus on health and more of a focus on issues such as fat fashion. Indeed, some Fat Studies scholars (e.g., Lee) advocate separating discussions of weight bias from discussions of health status to avoid stigmatising fat people who do experience health problems. While concerns about fostering healthism within the fat acceptance movement are valid, as a behavioural health professional with an audience of students training in these fields, I have chosen to devote three weeks of our ten week term to this subject matter. Depending on their academic background, others who teach Fat Studies may choose to emphasise different aspects such as media representations or historical connotations of fat.Nevertheless, the preponderance of positive comments evidenced throughout students’ assignments may certainly be a function of social desirability. Although I explicitly invite critique, and in fact assign readings (e.g., Welsh 33) and present media that question HAES and Fat Studies concepts, students may still feel obliged to articulate acceptance of and transformations consistent with the principles of these movements. As a more objective assessment of student outcomes, I am currently conducting a quantitative evaluation, in which I remain blind to students’ identities, of this year’s Fat Studies course compared to other upper division/graduate Psychology courses, examining potential changes in weight bias, body image and dieting behaviour, adherence to appearance-related media messages, and obligatory exercise behaviour. I postulate results akin to those of Humphrey, Clifford, and Neyman Morris (143) who found reductions in weight bias, improved body image, and improved eating behaviour among college students as a function of their HAES course. 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