Greene, Harry W.

English

The University of Kansas: Journals@KU

	 IRCF	ReptIles	&	AmphIbIAns		•		Vol	17,	no	1		•		mAR	2010	 9Henry Fitch and the Practice  of Natural Historyharry	W.	GreeneDepartment	of	ecology	and	evolutionary	biologyCornell	University,	Ithaca,	new	York	14853	(hwg5@cornell.edu)texas	Alligator	lizards	were	first	described	from	the	Devil’s	River	in	1858	and	a	century	later,	when	I	encountered	them	in	photographs,	there	was	still	almost	nothing	known	about	those	snaky,	bright-eyed	rep-tiles.	As	a	missouri	youth,	hungry	for	wilder	places	and	imagining	myself	a	trailblazing	naturalist,	I	pored	over	accounts	in	hobart	smith’s	Handbook of Lizards of	two	related	West	Coast	anguids	—	especially	field	studies	by	henry	Fitch,	who	referred	to	them	as	“unusually	intelligent”	and	saw	a	southern	Alligator	lizard	hold	off	Yellow-billed	magpies	by	hissing	and	threatening	with	open	jaws,	tail	curled	forward	like	a	shield.	someday,	I	thought,	I’ll	roam	the	mexican	borderlands	and	learn	something	exciting	about	Gerrhonotus infernalis!	 Fitch’s	photo	also	caught	my	attention	among	the	“influential	sau-rologists”	profiled	in	smith’s	Handbook because	he	wore	a	World	War	I	cavalry	hat	and	looked	intense,	as	if	distracted	from	some	important	task.	his	publications	in	our	local	college	library	provided	a	University	of	Kansas	address,	so	I	wrote	announcing	my	upcoming	herpetological	career	and	ask-ing	questions	about	proposed	texas	fieldwork.	however	pretentious	that	letter,	right	back	came	henry’s	cordial,	hand	written	explanation	of	how	to	sex	alligator	lizards:	“by	grasping	the	base	of	the	tail,	gently	twisting	it,	and	exerting	pressure	with	the	thumb	ventrally,	one	can	cause	a	hemipenis	to	be	exposed.	Failing	in	several	such	attempts,	one	may	be	reasonably	sure	the	specimen	is	a	female.”	 I	knew	ventral	meant	underside	and	penes	were	for	copulation,	but	couldn’t	have	realized	a	high	school	internship	with	henry	would	set	my	course	or	that	he	would	author	almost	200	publications,	more	than	4,000	pages	on	plants,	snails,	spiders,	and	diverse	vertebrates.	this	unassuming	man	started	graduate	work	at	berkeley’s	museum	of	Vertebrate	Zoology	in	1931,	when	the	discoveries	of	Charles	Darwin	and	Alfred	Russel	Wallace	were	still	relatively	fresh,	and	took	his	first	academic	position	in	1948,	five	years	before	James	Watson	and	Francis	Crick	unraveled	DnA.	Decades	later,	after	henry	summarized	half	a	century	of	fieldwork	at	a	sympo-sium	in	his	honor,	a	graduate	student	wryly	noted	that	thanks	to	him	she	couldn’t	call	four	years	of	horned	lizard	population	research	“long	term.”	Applause	typically	occurs	after presentations,	but	his	arrival	at	the	podium	that	day	provoked	a	standing	ovation	before	he	began	speaking.	 With	henry’s	passing	I	want	to	honor	his	impact	on	biology	and	me	personally	by	reflecting	on	a	conundrum.	Although	Darwin,	Wallace,	and	countless	others	have	been	drawn	into	nature	by	orchids,	beetles,	or	whatever	seized	their	fancy,	and	this	is	surely	truer	now	than	ever	before,	acclaim	typically	comes	from	generalizing	rather	than	gathering	facts.	ernst	mayr,	for	example,	was	renowned	for	evolutionary	theory	and	less	widely	Henry s. fitch (1909–2009):  field notes on a Wonderful life1RemembRAnCesr e m e m b r a n c e s1		Originally published in Herpetological Review 40:393–400 (2009). Reprinted with permission.henry	sheldon	Fitch	passed	away	on	8	september	2009,	just	a	bit	shy	of	his	100th	birthday	(25	December).	In	lieu	of	a	traditional	obituary,	and	because	an	autobiographical	account	of	his	life	recently	appeared	(echelle	and	stewart	2000),	several	former	students	and	colleagues	each	describe	their	personal	memories	of	the	man	deservedly	referred	to	as	the	“father	of	snake	ecology.”	Although	each	of	the	remembrances	brings	a	different	perspective,	three	common	threads	run	through	all	of	them,	namely:	henry	Fitch’s	energy,	enthusiasm,	and	decency.henry	Fitch	and	Rainbow	trout;	ca.	1920	at	Klamath	lake,	oregon.Courtesy of aLiCe f. eCHeLLe10	 IRCF	ReptIles	&	AmphIbIAns		•		Vol	17,	no	1		•		mAR	2010so	for	describing	more	than	400	new	species	and	subspecies	of	birds.	At	first	glance	then,	henry’s	career-long	focus	on	organisms	seems	anachronistic,	the	widespread	esteem	in	which	he’s	held	a	bit	surprising.	In	a	forthcoming	book,	Tracks and Shadows: Field Biology as Art,	I’ve	set	out	to	illuminate	that	stature	as	well	as	more	generally	assess	the	enduring	values	of	natural	history.	here	I’ll	draw	on	correspondence	and	interviews	of	my	teenage	mentor,	with	the	goal	of	addressing	a	question:	why	did	he	do	it?	 one	of	our	extended	dialogs	was	soon	after	henry	had	fallen	and	spent	a	chilly	night	stranded	in	a	creek,	and	except	for	the	incident’s	notori-ety	he	seemed	surprisingly	unfazed	—	search	dogs	were	hopelessly	confused	because	his	scent	trail	was	everywhere on	the	Reservation,	and	he’d	been	conscious	when	helicoptered	to	a	hospital.	Daughter	Alice	was	visiting	her	folks,	and	we	talked	all	afternoon	and	late	into	evening.	Almost	80,	with	raven	black	hair,	henry’s	wife	Virginia	served	fried	chicken,	mashed	pota-toes	with	gravy,	corn	on	the	cob,	and	home-made	rolls,	and	she	fairly	spar-kled	as	conversation	meandered	from	our	first	visit	and	the	whereabouts	of	former	graduate	students	to	details	of	Fitch	family	life.	When	I	smiled	at	her	mention	of	“youthful	indiscretions,”	Virginia	said	she	married	young	and	divorced	the	other	guy.	“then,”	she	exclaimed,	grinning	at	me	and	hugging	her	husband	from	behind	his	chair,	“I	met	this	wonderful	guy!”	 From	time	to	time	I	checked	a	list	of	questions,	and	although	in	cor-respondence	henry	had	been	enthusiastic	about	my	book	proposal,	his	answers	weren’t	effusive.	I’d	known	this	wasn’t	going	to	be	easy,	if	for	no	other	reason	than	constitutional	reticence	—	as	Randy	Reiserer	wrote	in	a	dissertation	acknowledgment	of	his	undergraduate	advisor,	“I	never	met	anyone	who	can	say	so	much	with	so	few	words,	or	indeed,	without	any	at	all.”	but	I	wanted	to	understand	why	henry	does	the	work,	keeps	catching	still	more	snakes,	and	what	the	practice	of	natural	history	meant	to	him,	so	finally	I	blurted	out	something	about	having	my	own	problems	shrink	in	the	face	of	grandeur	and	diversity.	“sounds	good	to	me”	was	all	he	said,	with	a	soft	chuckle	and	maybe	a	hint	of	irony.	 I	also	hoped	to	learn	how	henry	knew	what	to	record,	given	he	began	gathering	data	in	the	1930s	for	which	there	were	no	guiding	theories.	his	papers	typically	set	forth	the	ecology	of	target	species,	with	insights	woven	among	empirical	 findings	—	the	thesis	work	on	alligator	 lizards,	e.g.,	addressed	advantages	of	viviparity	by	noting	that	“eggs	left	in	the	ground	are	exposed	to…egg-eating	reptiles,	mammals,	and	insects,	and	to	extremes	of	temperature	and	danger	of	desiccation,	while	those	carried	by	the	female	probably	stand	a	better	chance	of	developing	into	independently	successful	young.”	In	1949	he’d	laid	out	in	Ecology details	of	what to	write	down,	but	almost	nothing	as	to	why particular	information	would	interest	other	biolo-gists.	And	in	1966	Robert	macArthur	and	eric	pianka’s	brilliant	paper	on	optimal	foraging	would	inspire	widespread	measurement	of	parameters	that	henry	had	been	recording	for	decades	with	no	conceptual	prompting.	 so	I	kept	coming	at	the	questions	from	various	directions,	hoping	Virginia	and	Alice	would	jump	in	with	something	definitive	or	nudge	him	for	details.	my	query	about	god	resulted	in	a	slight	pause	and	“I	have	no	religious	beliefs	although	raised	in	that	environment.	natural	history	does	it	for	me.”	Asked	about	favorite	habitats,	henry	attributed	his	preference	for	deserts,	“because	they	are	open	and	have	interesting	animals,”	to	a	nevada	field	trip	during	graduate	school.	At	the	mention	of	favorite	species,	he	responded	“alligator	lizards,	Copperheads,	and	gartersnakes,	because	they	have	interesting	natural	histories.”	by	evening’s	end	the	best	I	could	get	was	“my	initial	interest	in	zoology	was	innate”	and	“I	wrote	down	everything	that	interested	me.”	 two	years	later	I	was	back	trudging	up	a	hill	on	the	Reservation.	henry	was	audibly	winded	as	we	crested	the	familiar	limestone	ridge	and	explained	without	a	trace	of	self-pity	that	he’d	lost	stamina	but	hoped	to	complete	one	more	field	season.	otherwise	he	seemed	no	different	than	my	last	visit	and	at	91	his	hair	was	light	brown.	he	walked	slightly	stooped,	in	work	boots	with	visibly	thin	soles,	and	was	wearing	khaki	pants,	a	berkeley	herpetology	course	t-shirt,	and	a	baseball	cap	decorated	with	various	univer-sity	insignia.	the	tattered	cotton	bag	stuffed	through	his	belt,	custom	made	by	Virginia,	was	for	carrying	snakes	back	to	the	house.	he	used	a	smooth,	sturdy	stick	with	a	nail	head	protruding	on	the	bottom	to	steady	himself,	hold	onto	tree	limbs,	turn	over	cover	items,	and	probe	matted	grass	for	the	long	narrow	tin	pieces	he’d	laid	out	to	attract	snakes.	 As	our	conversation	turned	to	current	projects,	henry	spoke	with	quiet	fatherly	pride	of	a	paper	with	Alice	about	changes	in	tree	diversity	over	the	past	50	years	at	the	Reservation.	their	findings	were	thought-provoking:	once	largely	prairie,	perhaps	the	best-known	square	mile	in	north	America	had	lost	a	third	of	its	fauna	since	he	arrived	because	of	fire	prevention,	lack	of	grazing,	and	forest	encroachment.	on	the	bright	side,	there	were	still	bobcats	and	timber	Rattlesnakes	in	the	vicinity,	and	a	black	bear	was	seen	near	here	recently.	As	we	returned	to	the	house	he	pointed	out	a	large	cedar	by	the	driveway,	planted	many	years	ago	as	a	tiny	family	Christmas	tree.	 that	night	henry	sat	in	the	front	row	for	my	campus	lecture	on	organisms	as	the	central	focus	of	biology,	during	which	I	held	up	his	cap-stone	opus,	A Kansas Snake Community,	and	introduced	my	teenage	hero.	I	praised	henry’s	contributions	to	ecology	and	systematics,	then	said	his	greatest	legacies	are	immediate	products	of	the	work	itself	—	tens	of	thou-sands	of	observations	archived,	many	museum	specimens	collected	—	and	that	in	the	scholarly	tradition	of	his	berkeley	advisor,	Joseph	Grinnell,	he’d	bridged	Darwin’s	synthesis	with	twenty-first	century	science.	As	it	hap-pens,	those	individual	organisms	he	studied	demonstrated	such	things	as	substantial	shifts	in	Copperhead	diets	over	the	decades,	as	prey	populations	responded	to	the	habitat	changes	he	documented.	 henry’s	accomplishments	amounted	to	several	better-than-average	careers,	I	told	the	K.U.	crowd,	given	his	California	and	louisiana	work,	decades	at	the	Reservation,	and	his	tropical	expeditions.	In	fact,	although	mainly	known	as	a	herpetologist,	his	publications	on	mammals	would	eclipse	those	of	the	average	“mammalogist.”	During	the	lecture	I	showed	photos	of	island	Cottonmouths	that	eat	fish	regurgitated	by	seabirds	and	have	 exceptionally	 large	 young,	 exemplifying,	 I	pointed	out,	unusual	and	unexpected	opportunities	 for	research	and	enlargement	of	theory.	Afterward	henry	asked	about	the	number	of	young	in	island	snake	litters,	said	he’d	enjoyed	my	talk	and	our	hike,	then	added	with	a	characteristic	grin	and	swing	of	the	chin,	“oh,	and	thanks	for	the	plug!”	 Work	can	be	a	job,	a	career,	or	a	passion,	and	for	henry	the	prac-tice	of	natural	history	was	all	three.	When	I	complained	about	funding	he	responded,	“I	have	always	spent	my	time	on	whatever	interested	me	—	with	or	without	grants	—	and	have	greatly	enjoyed	all	my	projects,	especially	the	fieldwork.”	In	his	eighties	he	was	quoted	in	a	book	on	Kansas	RemembRAnCeshenry	and	Virginia	Fitch	in	1975	at	the	University	of	Kansas	natural	history	Reservation	(now	the	Fitch	natural	history	Reservation).MiCHaeL V. PLuMMer	 IRCF	ReptIles	&	AmphIbIAns		•		Vol	17,	no	1		•		mAR	2010	 11RemembRAnCespersonalities,	“I	wouldn’t	change	a	thing.	people	who	work	with	animals	in	the	field,	whether	snakes	or	birds	or	rodents	or	monkeys,	find	it	deeply	satisfying	and	wouldn’t	trade	it	for	any	other	kind	of	career	—	even	though	it	may	not	be	very	financially	rewarding.”	And	in	1995	he	wrote	Alice,	“If	as	a	young	person	I	could	have	dreamed	of	my	future	and	the	world	I	would	like	to	see,	it	would	have	been	about	the	same	as	the	life	I	have	had.	Getting	a	ph.D.,	having	a	loving,	supportive	wife,	children	like	you	and	John	and	Chester,	grandchildren	like	tyson,	lena,	and	ben,	living	on	the	Reservation,	teaching	natural	history,	studying	anoles	and	pitvipers,	and	making	two	dozen	trips	to	nine	countries	in	the	tropics	for	herpetological	research	have	all	been	great	experiences.”	 one	visit,	after	the	Fitches	walked	me	to	my	truck,	I	drove	back	to	lawrence	on	a	sultry	Kansas	night.	A	huge	moon	shone	through	fog	and	orange	lightning	flashed	over	surrounding	fields	as	I	pondered	my	admira-tion	and	affection	for	henry.	What,	I	wondered,	makes	him	tick?	Certainly	he	marched	to	his	own	drummer,	unmindful	of	fads,	which	makes	it	all	the	more	fascinating	to	contemplate	his	accomplishments,	as	well	as	how	that	stance	affected	his	life	more	broadly.	maybe	verbal	frugality	reflected	limited	interest	in	analytic	thought,	personally	and	professionally,	which	if	nothing	else	protected	him	from	the	pettiness	so	common	in	universities.	maybe	he	was	always	so	much	within	himself	that	he	simply	didn’t	pay	much	attention	to	theorizing.	And	maybe	those	like	henry	who	go	deeply	into	nature	as	children	—	he	was	catching	snakes	as	a	five-year-old	—	are	especially	prone	to	immersion	as	adults.	We	have	to	be	out	there.	 Just	weeks	before	henry	died	he	asked	Alice	and	her	husband	tony	echelle,	if	they	might	visit	a	local	creek	and	catch	watersnakes.	When	she	replied,	“Well,	what	then	dad?”	he	said	simply,	“We’ll	mark	and	recapture	them.”	evidently	the	answers	to	my	questions	are	equally	straightforward:	henry	was	always	driven	by	passionate	curiosity	and	a	penchant	for	detail,	accentuated	by	parental	encouragement,	and	those	attributes	combined	in	grad	school	with	a	framework	for	understanding	biological	diversity	that	harked	back	to	Darwin	and	Wallace.	that	was	enough.	his	approach	worked,	against	formidable	odds	at	times,	and	he	was	not	inclined	to	do	otherwise.	A	special	gift	for	field	biology	and	quiet	but	stubborn	confidence	must	have	been	obvious	to	Grinnell	in	1931,	when	an	unusually	shy	but	promising	new	student	arrived	at	berkeley,	fresh	off	an	oregon	pear	ranch.	those	traits	were	undiminished	to	the	end,	and	henry’s	long,	happy	life	was	inseparable	from	the	quest	to	understand	nature.Reminiscences of Henry S. FitchWilliam	e.	Duellmanbiodiversity	Institute,	University	of	Kansaslawrence,	Kansas	66045	(duellman@ku.edu)For	the	past	half	century	I	was	fortunate	to	have	been	a	colleague	and	friend	of	henry	s.	Fitch.	During	that	time,	we	served	on	doctoral	committees	of	one	another’s	students,	co-advised	some	graduate	students,	and	team-taught	a	graduate	course	in	reptile	biology.	Although	we	never	collaborated	on	a	published	paper,	we	each	named	a	species	of	Anolis for	the	other.	henry	avoided	university	politics	and	only	reluctantly	attended	departmental	meetings.	many	of	his	colleagues	mused	that	henry	lived	in	his	own	little	world.	but	that	world	was	much	larger	than	they	thought.	he	was	at	home	on	the	University	of	Kansas	natural	history	Reservation	(subsequently	named	for	him),	where	he	conducted	intensive	studies	on	the	ecology	and	behavior	of	reptiles.	over	the	years	he	witnessed	the	succession	of	hardwood	forest	on	the	reservation,	while	methodically	searching	this	square	mile	of	land,	capturing	and	recapturing	thousands	of	snakes,	and	logging	hundreds	of	pages	of	notes.	his	dedicated	efforts	culminated	with	the	publication	in	1999	of	A Kansas Snake Community: Composition and Changes Over 50 Years.	 however,	henry	had	a	long	and	distinguished	publication	record	before	this	finale.	While	at	the	University	of	California	at	berkeley	prior	to	moving	to	Kansas	in	1948,	he	published	a	classic	work	on	alligator	lizards	in	1935	and	a	highly	perceptive	work	on	western	garter	snakes	(Thamnophis)	in	1940.	two	of	his	best-known	works	are	on	the	natural	history	of	reptiles,	especially	that	on	the	Five-lined	skink	in	1954	and	his	exhaustive	study	of	the	Copperhead	in	1960.	In	addition	to	these	systematic	and	ecological	studies,	Fitch	provided	us	with	important	syntheses—reproductive	cycles	in	lizards	and	snakes	(1970)	and	sexual	size	differences	in	reptiles	(1981).	Consequently,	his	publications	are	cited	extensively.	A	number	of	years	ago,	while	Fitch	was	still	an	active	member	of	the	department,	the	chairman	took	it	upon	himself	to	tally	citations	to	publications	by	all	members	of	the	department.	For	several	consecutive	years,	henry	Fitch	was	the	most	cited.	 During	the	warmer	months	of	the	year,	the	major	exception	to	con-ducting	field	studies	were	the	basketball	games	on	the	“sand	lot”	by	the	Fitch’s	residence.	Games	would	involve	all	members	of	the	family	and	any-one	who	happened	to	be	visiting	the	reservation.	henry	displayed	his	usual	dogged	determination	from	his	fieldwork	to	the	basketball	“court,”	and	one	quickly	learned	to	avoid	his	elbows	under	the	basket.	 In	1967	I	introduced	henry	to	the	tropical	rainforest	in	Amazonian	ecuador,	where	he	was	the	only	member	of	the	field	party	who	would	work	in	the	field	during	the	torrid	afternoons,	all	the	while	lamenting	the	appar-ent	absence	of	snakes.	Customarily	he	went	into	his	cabin	and	emerged	a	few	minutes	later	with	a	towel	wrapped	around	his	middle	and	untied	sneakers	on	his	feet.	to	get	to	the	dribbling	bamboo	spout	loosely	referred	to	as	the	shower,	he	had	to	cross	the	dirt	“courtyard,”	the	home	territory	of	a	very	aggressive	goose,	which	took	particular	delight	in	nipping	at	henry’s	buttocks.	one	afternoon	we	heard	henry	exclaim	“ouch,”	as	he	stood	naked	snapping	his	towel	at	the	goose.	he	was	completely	unaware	that	he	was	the	“floorshow”	in	the	middle	of	camp.	 here	I	learned	that	henry	had	poor	night	vision	and	consequently	was	primarily	a	diurnal	biologist,	but	he	was	constantly	amazed	that	we	found	so	many	snakes	at	night.	only	after	much	cajoling	did	he	accompany	us	twice	on	nocturnal	forays	during	a	month	in	the	forest.	however,	I	like	to	think	that	I	influenced	much	of	henry’s	subsequent	work	in	the	tropics,	where	he	conducted	numerous	studies	on	the	systematics	and	ecology	of	anoles	and	on	populations	and	conservation	of	iguanas.	 henry	Fitch	was	one	of	the	last	remaining	naturalists.	his	breadth	of	knowledge	was	matched	by	very	few	of	his	contemporaries	and	scarcely	imagined	by	his	younger	colleagues.	his	careful	work	on	natural	history	is	well	worth	emulating.	our	knowledge	of	animals	in	nature	would	be	far	greater	if	many	more	biologists	around	the	world	followed	in	the	footsteps	of	henry	s.	Fitch.henry	 Fitch	 was	 modest	 and	 unassuming	 —	 but	 very	 competitive	 in	basketball.Courtesy of aLiCe f. eCHeLLe

Henry S. Fitch (1909–2009): Field Notes on a Wonderful Life

https://journals.ku.edu/reptilesandamphibians/article/download/16049/14375

Henry S. Fitch (1909–2009): Field Notes on a Wonderful Life

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