A few weeks back, I was invited to be the speaker for the Earlville Conservation Club. I was reluctant, as I am nearly phobic about public speaking. I finally accepted the invitation , and am glad that I did.
Understanding the natural world is a pretty cut-and-dry subject. Unfortunately, some forms of scientific study I've been involved in, mainly archaeology, can be ruined by setting constraints. About six years back, I had a eureka moment in the field of archaeology. I had been flint knapping or making stone tools for many years. While testing curated or more refined blades on deer, I found that they worked great for hide removal. Although, when I attempted to cut meat with the tools, they were completely ineffective. I began to research through trial and error, which is sometimes called experimental archaeology. The video that I produced, while testing stone tools on deer was a big hit with our local archaeology group. Little did I know what a bumpy ride it would create.
Attempting to condense the natural world into a scientific format is just plain laughable to me. There are too many variables that need be accounted for of which can change as quickly as the weather. For instance, if one were to attempt a study on deer hunting, and you had to make the shot based on some format, it would be nearly impossible to produce. My equation for hunting or fishing under any form of constraint is E=MCU later. Animals don't typically do as you want them to, and won't wait around for you to get ready. If you try and impose anything but natural law on such a project, you are doomed to fail. Things happen quickly, and you need to be flexible to get the job done.
A perfect example as to how archaeology is typically an upside down science, is a program that I encountered in a journal of an experimental project gone wrong. The scientist spent hours reproducing bone hooks and trout lines. The line was strung across a river and had hooks attached and baited with various creepy crawlers. Obviously none of the people involved were fishermen. They stated that their diametrically opposed lives left no time to man the lines. They were using barb-less hooks, and upon returning to check them, some were found to be broken and most of which were robbed of bait. Any novice fisherman knows that tension must be maintained throughout the fight with such tackle or the fish will spit the hook out.
I set out to test the barb-less hook, and gave myself an hour cut-off to catch the first fish. I made the hook out of a piece of caribou antler, and the line out of deer sinew. Unlike the people involved in the aforementioned project I knew the when, where, and how, but needed to create my own tackle as they did. Upon finishing the fishing system, I set out to test it on video. I set up the camera, and pressed record. The tape was able to capture an hour and a half of footage, which I expected to use in its entirety. To my surprise, the first fish caught through the ice was a keeper crappie and was landed only five minutes into the session. I ended up with five fish in under an hour, which even impressed me. It was my understanding of the outdoors, not reproduction, that allowed me to successfully complete the project. When I finally showed the program, an archaeologist stated that the project proved nothing. When shown to a lifetime outdoorsman named Dave Walker, he was astonished to hear anyone could refute the findings. To be honest, he said little, just motioned like he put a gun to his head and pulled the trigger.
There was more of an accepting response from our local group to my stone tool video. I realized that any form of refinement to a stone tool only made it more dull. The eureka moment took place when I was cut pretty badly by a flake of flint that was nearly 1,500 years old. It was exposed in the side wall of a test pit that I was digging. If a flake that old was still so sharp, they must have used unrefined or expedient tools to cut meat.
That project took me to the annual New York State Archaeological Association gathering. They invited me to present and gave me a 40-minute program, which had never been done before. Most only run for 15 minutes or so. Someone must have been put off by the disembowelment and skinning of the animal, because they refused to show the program, which was to be followed by dinner.
The Earlville Conservation group had no problem watching the program after dinner. That allowed me to see how separated archaeologists are from the natural world. This group of sportsmen, all of which I had never met before, reacted quite the opposite to the so-called educated.
To the conservation group, thank you so much for inviting me into your group to speak and reporting back to me on how much everyone enjoyed the program. Good wishes and remember if you are going to share dinner and a movie, make sure it's with your people.