1,313 research outputs found
2008 Statistics
2008 Men\u27s Track and Field Statistics, George Fox College
2008 Statistics
2008 Women\u27s Track and Field Statistics, George Fox University
November 27, 2017
https://egrove.olemiss.edu/thedmonline/1229/thumbnail.jp
Behavioral responses of terrestrial mammals to COVID-19 lockdowns
COVID-19 lockdowns in early 2020 reduced human mobility, providing an opportunity to disentangle its effects on animals from those of landscape modifications. Using GPS data, we compared movements and road avoidance of 2300 terrestrial mammals (43 species) during the lockdowns to the same period in 2019. Individual responses were variable with no change in average movements or road avoidance behavior, likely due to variable lockdown conditions. However, under strict lockdowns 10-day 95th percentile displacements increased by 73%, suggesting increased landscape permeability. Animals' 1-hour 95th percentile displacements declined by 12% and animals were 36% closer to roads in areas of high human footprint, indicating reduced avoidance during lockdowns. Overall, lockdowns rapidly altered some spatial behaviors, highlighting variable but substantial impacts of human mobility on wildlife worldwide.acceptedVersio
2016 Ole Miss Track & Field Records
Athlete featured on cover: Craig Engels, Jr., Cross Countryhttps://egrove.olemiss.edu/med_tfxc/1002/thumbnail.jp
2017 Ole Miss Track & Field Fact Book
Athlete featured on cover: Raven Saunders, Shot Puthttps://egrove.olemiss.edu/med_tfxc/1001/thumbnail.jp
Ole Miss Track & Field 2017-18 Record Book
https://egrove.olemiss.edu/med_tfxc/1000/thumbnail.jp
Spartan Daily, October 17, 1986
Volume 87, Issue 36https://scholarworks.sjsu.edu/spartandaily/7493/thumbnail.jp
October 20, 2017
https://egrove.olemiss.edu/thedmonline/1212/thumbnail.jp
No Opportunity for Song: A Slovak Immigrant\u27s Silencing Analyzed through Her Pronoun Choice
I can\u27t tell the most frightening story I know, because stories are made of words, and once I was without them. I was trekking in Nepal and ended up with amnesia. Later I stumbled into a mission hospital with a bruised jaw. A bad fall? I can\u27t say. I had no words. No words for this thing that was wrenching and crying, in which I - a bundle of terror - seemed trapped. No words for where I began, stopped, or the mud stubble terrace on which I sat. No words to map, no words to define, no words to possess. No words for the blobs of light and shadow shifting or parking before me. No words to rank or relate the garbage - my own memories - blasting against my consciousness, randomly, insistently. Names shouted inside my head - my family, my lover, my own name; places - my hometown in America, the name of the mission hospital I\u27d eventually find my way to. An eleven-thousand foot mountain rose in front of me. A backpack pulled at my shoulders. A Nepali woman stroked my arm. I had no words to weave any of these into a safety net of story or meaning. All were uncontrollable, unpredictable, stimuli, which somehow, suddenly, had complete, and therefore sinister, power, and struck again and again against - some other thing - me - a thing I couldn\u27t name or inhabit, for I had no words. I remember this sensation now when I want to know what it must have been like for my immigrant mother when, as an eight-year-old Slovak peasant child, she first arrived in America in 1929
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