When Nature is the Zoo

When Nature Is the Zoo: Vision and Power in the Art and Science of Natural HistoryAuthor(s): Gregg MitmanSource: Osiris, 2nd Series, Vol. 11, Science in the Field (1996), pp. 117-143Published by: The University of Chicago Press on behalf of The History of Science SocietyStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/301929 .Accessed: 26/09/2011 14:25

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When Nature Is the Zoo: Vision and

Power in the Art and Science of

Natural History

Gregg Mitman*

IN 1940 THE New York Zoological Society, under the direction of its president, Fairfield Osborn, launched a significant new experiment in zoo exhibition and

display. The year marked the "beginning of the end," in Fairfield Osborn's words, "of exhibiting our animal collections behind bars." ' Although zoos in the past had displayed animals according to "man-made classifications" of orders and families, zoo visitors in the future could plan their excursion according to the continent they wished to visit: Africa, Asia, Australia, or South America. By the spring of 1941, without leaving the confines of New York City, a visitor to the Bronx Zoo could be transported 12,000 miles to witness a realistic scene of animal life on the African plains. Entering from a gate suggestive of an African village in the southeast corner, the spectator encountered a savanna with zebras, warthogs, numerous species of antelope, cranes, and ground birds of various shapes and hues traversing the plains or refreshing themselves at the water hole. On a high rock outcrop above the plains, one could catch a glimpse of lions (Figure 1). The area was large enough to allow free movement of the animals, yet small enough that every visitor was guaranteed an experience of animal life in Africa unobstructed by bars or fences and without the danger of safari. The large size also helped conceal the "synthetic habitat planting" of flat-topped elms, Texas water locusts, mountain holly, and a multitude of exotic and native plant species carefully selected and manicured to convey the look of Africa. The achievement was so effective that an outside consultant from the American Museum of Natural History exclaimed upon walking through the exhibit,

* Department of History of Science, University of Oklahoma, Norman, Oklahoma 73019. I owe special thanks to Laurel Smith, whose enthusiastic and persevering research assistance

proved invaluable. Comments from participants at "The Nature of Science Studies: A Workshop on the Environment, Science, and Politics" held at Cornell University in April 1994, conversations with Juan Ilerbaig, and the editorial advice of Robert Kohler and Henrika Kuklick were helpful in shaping the final version. Discussions with Robert Nye and Katherine Pandora were instrumental in refining the theoretical arguments in the paper. For archival assistance and permissions, thanks to the staffs of the American Heritage Center, the Denver Public Library, the Library of Congress, and the Rocke- feller Archives Center. I am deeply indebted to Tom Veltre from the New York Zoological Society for his assistance with the society's film archives and his gracious furnishing of still prints. This project is supported by a grant from the National Science Foundation.

' Fairfield Osborn, "The Opening of the African Plains," Bulletin of the New York Zoological Soci- ety, 1941, 44:67.

C) 1996 by The History of Science Society. All rights reserved. 0021-1753/96/8401-0001$01.00

OSIRIS, 2nd series, 1996, 11 : 117-143 117

118 GREGG MiTMAN

E -

_-~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~-

Figure 1. A glimpse of lions on top of the high rock outcrop above the African plains of the Bronx Zoo. (Courtesy of the Wildlife Conservation Society.)

"By Jove! I feel as if I should have my gun crooked in my arm!"' This was even more remarkable since the director of the planting operations had never been to Africa.

The African plains exhibit not only embodied the zoological park's goals of ad- vancing and disseminating knowledge, it met the need for public recreation. Yet, as one park planner perceptively remarked, recreation had a more fundamental meaning for zoo officials beyond that of rest and relaxation: it also meant "re-creation." "In this sense the Zoo and the Aquarium have a peculiar and unique function in civic life," he noted. "For a population cut off from almost all direct contact with nature, there is something very recreative, mentally and physically, in looking at live animals."3 The African plains exhibit at the Bronx Zoo was a major experiment in the re-creation of nature. For Osborn, who became one of the most outspoken leaders of conservation in the aftermath of World War II, such re-creations of natural envi- ronments contributed importantly to public education. That nature was becoming a commodity for public consumption, Osborn had little doubt. Travelogue-expedition films such as Simba, Chang, and King Kong and the successful opening of Ma-

2 Allyn B. Jennings, "Planting the Plains of Africa-in-the-Bronx," Bull. NY Zoolog. Soc., 1940, 43:190. For a history of the New York Zoological Park, see William Bridges, A Gathering of Animals (New York: Harper & Row, 1974).

3Harmon Goldstone, "Aspects of Zoological Park Planning," Bull. NY Zoolog. Soc., 1940, 43:61.

WHEN NATURE IS THE ZOO 119

rineland in 1938 testified to this fact.4 Capitalizing on this interest and making the public aware of the need for conservation-not just of individual species, but of the natural environment and resources of the area occupied by wildlife-was an essential task of these new habitat displays. At the same time, the African plains exhibit signaled an early experiment in the synthetic creation of nature and foreshadowed a time to come, as Osborn was only too keenly aware, when the only way to save nature in the "mechanical age" was for it to be reborn through human hands. With human civilization permeating, in Osborn's words, "virtually every living area of the earth's surface," the ability of nature to reproduce was threatened; humans would have to become technological midwives. Osborn believed that the only way to save nature was through a "co-ordinated nationwide effort" that "harmonized human needs with the processes of nature"-to recreate nature.5

Osborn did not envision nature simply as an object of technological control. "I could never join the school of thought that believes man can control nature," he wrote.6 Although he viewed "science cultists and nature worshipers at opposite poles," he saw both contributing to the alienation of humans from nature. The one emphasized human mastery over nature, the other shunned any presence of the artificial. Osborn sought instead an integration of humans and nature into a synthetic whole, where science "aid[s] and abet[s] natural processes," but doesn't "replace them.'7 Zoo exhibits were neither places to witness and affirm an imperial mastery over nature, as they had been well into the early twentieth century, nor places

4 For biographical information on Osborn, see National Cyclopaedia ofAmerican Biography, 1984, 62:172-173; Current Biography 1949:463-465. On the commodification of nature appreciation, see Roderick Nash, "The Exporting and Importing of Nature: Nature-Appreciation as a Commodity, 1850-1980," Perspectives in American History, 1977, 12:517-560. For an analysis of Marineland in relation to natural history film, see Gregg Mitman, "Cinematic Nature: Hollywood Technology, Pop- ular Culture, and the American Museum of Natural History," Isis, 1993, 84:637-661.

5Fairfield Osborn, Our Plundered Planet (Boston: Little, Brown and Co., 1948), pp. 35, 193. The politics of reproduction in nature has interesting parallels to that of human reproduction in the late twentieth century centered around technoscience. Margaret Atwood's The Handmaid s Tale (Toronto: McClelland & Steward, 1985) is a chilling novel that reveals how much is at stake and how much is inscribed upon women's bodies in the reproductive anxieties of the late twentieth century. An in- depth exploration of how these issues get played out in the reproduction of nature awaits its author.

6 Historians of ecology have pointed to the prevalence of a technocratic optimism and the centrality of a management ethos within ecology during the post-World War II period. See, for example, Ste- phen Bocking, "Conserving Nature and Building a Science: British Ecologists and the Origins of the Nature Conservancy," in Science and Nature: Essays in the History of the Environmental Sciences, ed. Michael Shortland. BSHS Monographs, vol. 8 (Oxford: Alden Press, 1993), pp. 89-114; Chunglin Kwa, "Radiation Ecology, Systems Ecology, and the Management of the Environment," in Science and Nature, pp. 251-284; Chunglin Kwa, "Representations of Nature Mediating Between Ecology and Science Policy: The Case of the International Biological Program," Social Studies of Science, 1987, 17:413-442; Gregg Mitman, The State of Nature: Ecology, Community, and American Social Thought (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1992); Donald Worster, Nature's Economy: The Roots of Ecology (Garden City, N.J.: Doubleday, Anchor Press, 1979). Missing from these histories, however, is an understanding of how power is manifested through the methodological practices and management technologies employed within the field. To construe Osborn's vision as one of technological control is to greatly simplify the meanings of power woven into the complex nexus of the technological and social that constitutes the fabric of ecological science as environmental management. Quote from address by Fairfield Osborn at Joint Invitation of Secretary of Interior and Presi- dent of Carnegie Institution, at Elihu Root Auditorium, Washington, D.C., February 8, 1949, p. 8; Fairfield Osborn Papers; Box 1; Speeches & Writings, 1946-1949, May File; Manuscript Division; Library of Congress; Washington, D.C. (hereafter FOP). I Fairfield Osborn, "Conservation and Democracy," address delivered at 14th Educational Confer- ence, Hotel Roosevelt, New York, October 28, 1949, pp. 8-9; FOP; Box 1; Speeches & Writings, 1949, August-October File.

120 GREGG MITMAN

to witness and affirm technological prowess. Hiroshima and Nagasaki had made Osborn keenly suspicious of unbridled faith in technology. The new habitat display instead sought to blend the natural, technological, and social in a way that made possible an urban flight into an ephemeral experience of wilderness.8

To recreate this aesthetic experience of wilderness successfully, any trace of artificiality, any visible manifestation of power, had to be rendered invisible.9 The exhibit "works" to the extent that we feel a part of it, as though we were literally in Africa. Such a feeling could not be evoked when animals were visibly behind bars, however, for the encounter between human and animal is mediated by the awareness of artificiality and confinement and powerlessness.'0 The mutual freedom of observer and observed is essential if the encounter is to be real. Thus, the concealment of power and the perception of freedom are both necessary in the re-creation of a space where nature could be seen and lived.

Osborn sought to recreate a space for a way of seeing that was an integral part of natural history in the early twentieth century. For many natural historians, an aesthetic vision had defined the art of seeing. Great value was placed on sensation in this aesthetic experience, because it was through an immersion in nature's language-the language of the senses-that empathy, a truth of feeling, a knowing of the individual animal, took place." With the professionalization of natural history, this aesthetic vision, so grounded in an individual perspective, became relegated to the art of nature observation as hobby, pleasure, or even religious experience. Still, the aesthetic continued to occupy a place within the professional sphere. Osborns goal was, after all, to recreate a space either in the zoo or in the field where the individual could experience the sublime. 12 Yet to render nature an artful construction

8 For a useful analysis of the history of the zoological park in the United States, see R. Jeffrey Stott, "The American Idea of a Zoological Park: An Intellectual History" (Ph. D. diss., University of California-Santa Barbara, 1981). Although I am sympathetic with Stott's analysis, I think he mis- takenly situates interest in the creation of natural habitat displays too early in the twentieth century, thus downplaying the important role of empire. One need only recall that the New York Zoological Park's director, William Temple Hornaday, had placed Ota Benga, an African Pygmy, on display in the Monkey House in 1906. See Phillips Verner Bradford and Harvey Blume, Ota: The Pygmy in the Zoo (New York: St. Martin's Press, 1992).

9 There are interesting parallels here with Foucault's discussion of Bentham's panoptic machine, which Foucault links to Le Vaux's menagerie at Versailles. The significance is that power becomes manifest not by a visible display of human mastery over nature, but by the very fact that humans are invisible while controlling nature. See Michel Foucault, Discipline and Punish: The Birth of the Prison, trans. Alan Sheridan (1975; rpt. New York: Vintage Books, 1979), pp. 195-230.

"' John Berger, About Looking (New York: Pantheon Books, 1980), pp. 18-26. Interestingly, during the 1940s the concept of territory within the field of animal behavior indicated that freedom was itself illusory in the wild. H. Hediger, director of the Zoological Gardens at Basle, made great use of this to argue that the zoo was not a prison and that although the space for animals in captivity could not always meet the size of its natural territory, one could closely approximate the physiological and psychological freedom enjoyed by animals in the wild. In doing so, nature and the zoo would become one. H. Hediger, Wild Animals in Captivity. An Outline of the Biology of Zoological Gardens, trans. G. Sircom (1942; rpt., New York: Dover Publications, 1964).

" There are close parallels here to what film theorist Kaja Silverman defines as "the look," which she locates "within desire, temporality, and the body." The look denotes a subjective and nonquanti- fiable vision grounded in the individual body; it is not an ideological vision of transcendence. See Kaja Silverman, "What Is a Camera? Or: History in the Field of Vision," Discourse, 1993, 15.3:53.

12 The interest in reproducing nature also extends beyond the natural history disciplines of the life sciences to other morphological sciences, such as meteorology. See, for example, Peter Galison and Alexi Assmus, "Artificial Clouds, Real Particles," in The Uses of Experiment: Studies in the Natural Sciences, eds. David Gooding, Trevor Pinch, and Simon Schaffer (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1989), pp. 225-274.


in the mechanical age required a more transcendent vision-a limitless view that surpassed knowledge gained through sensory experience of the individual body.

The camera played an important role in this shift from an aesthetic to a transcendent vision."3 Once a tool used by the field biologist to capture the individuality of nature, the camera by the 1940s had begun to displace the romantic naturalist's eye. In place of a vision focused on the unique elements of nature, the camera substituted a panoramic view, unlimited by the individual observer's subjective and partial experience. The camera, and particularly surveillance technologies such as biotelemetry and Landsat imaging, made possible the active monitoring and literal procreation of nature in the field. And just as power had been downplayed in the new naturalistic zoo displays, surveillance technologies enabled the biologist to conceal the manifes- tations of power within the field in a similar way. To discern these manifold inter- weavings of vision, power, and nature, we shall focus upon an important site in this changing field of vision within natural history: Jackson Hole, Wyoming.'4

THE ART OF SEEING

In 1945, four years after the opening of the African plains exhibit, the New York Zoological Society embarked upon a joint venture with the Wyoming Game and Fish Commission and the Jackson Hole Preserve, Inc., to establish in Jackson Hole, Wyoming, a wildlife park that would enable the traveling public to view the "magnificent big game animals of the West" usually witnessed only by hunters and wilderness enthusiasts.'5 The 1,200-acre game park, bordered by state highways, would display in a 400-acre section surrounded by 8 miles of invisibly placed steel fencing big game animals that included elk, moose, mule deer, pronghorn antelope, and bison in their natural surroundings. If the zoo was becoming more like nature, nature was also becoming more like the zoo. Artful human constructions, such spectacles of nature as the African plains exhibit and the Jackson Hole Wildlife Park concealed in similar ways the social and technological infrastructures that made their very exis- tence possible.

The origins of this game park lay in 1927, when John D. Rockefeller, Jr., with the

1' Silverman, "What Is a Camera?" On the importance of transcendent vision and its links to the ideal of mechanical objectivity, see Lisa Cartwright, "'Experiments of Destruction': Cinematic In- scriptions of Physiology," Representations, 1992, 40:129-152; and Lorraine Daston and Peter Gali- son, "The Image of Objectivity," Representations, 1992, 40:81-128.

14 The approach in this essay borrows from Stephen Heath's suggestion that "cinema does not exist in the technological and then become this or that practice in the social; its history is a history of the technological and social together, a history in which the determinations are not simple but multiple, interacting, in which the ideological is there from the start." See Stephen Heath, "The Cinematic Apparatus: Technology as Historical and Cultural Form," in The Cinematic Apparatus, eds. Teresa de Lauretis and Stephen Heath (New York: St. Martin's Press, 1980), pp. 1-13. I thank Donna Hara- way for calling Heath's work to my attention. Heath's approach to cinema bears much similarity to the past decades' work in the social studies of science that has sought to explore the mediating role of scientific practice in the construction of scientific knowledge. As Clarke and Fujimura have recently suggested, when discussing the "basic social processes of scientific practice, it is important to remember throughout that these processes apply not only to physical manipulations of apparatus or materials, but also to what is usually handled as distinctive-thoughts, ideas, theories, models, and heuristics." Process, they argue, is "embedded in practice and in ideas." See Adele E. Clarke and Joan H. Fujimura, eds., The Right Tools for the Job: At Work in Twentieth-Century Life Sciences (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1992), p. 7.

15 Fairfield Osborn, "The Zoological Society Is Going to Wyoming," Animal Kingdom, 1945, 48:168.

122 GREGG MITMAN

support of President Calvin Coolidge, incorporated the Snake River Land Company to purchase property in the Jackson Hole region with the understanding that it would be donated to the federal government and made a part of the national park system. Adjoining the Grand Teton National Park to the west and lying just south of Yel- lowstone National Park, Jackson Hole was deemed an essential part of these national preserves. The lobbying efforts of cattle ranchers and the state of Wyoming's interests in game management and Rockefeller's tax dollars, however, became major stumbling blocks when Rockefeller attempted to give the 34,000 acres of land, with an estimated value of $1.5 million, to the federal government. Unable to pass a bill through Congress that would make the region a part of Grand Teton National Park, President Roosevelt in 1943 created an executive order that made 221,610 acres of combined federal lands, Rockefeller properties, and private holdings a national monument. Over the next seven years, the Jackson Hole National Monument became embroiled in a bitter political controversy that effectively delayed the transfer of Rockefeller lands to the National Park Service until 1950, at which time it became a part of Grand Teton National Park.'6

In 1945, as the debate over the Jackson Hole National Monument continued, Rockefeller transferred 29,937 acres of Jackson Hole land to the Jackson Hole Pre- serve, Inc., which had been established by Rockefeller interests in 1940 to assume the real estate holdings of the Snake River Land Company.17 Rockefeller appointed his son Laurance as its president to oversee management and development of the area until the political storm blew over. Laurance was a generous patron of Osborn's conservation interests. A trustee of the Conservation Foundation established by Osborn in 1948, he was also an influential member in the affairs of the New York Zoological Society. With the endorsement of Wyoming Governor Lester Hunt and Game Commissioner Lester Bagley, Osborn and Rockefeller envisioned a game park, accompanied by an information center containing material on the habits, management, and conservation of wildlife, that would be a "gathering point for naturalists and wildlife enthusiasts and an area for scientific study in wildlife conservation, propagation and management on a scale unparalleled in the nation." 18 Integral to the story of wildlife conservation in Jackson Hole was another story, one of American heritage dear to Rockefeller's heart-the winning of the West, and the preservation of an environment crucial to "the struggle of a courageous, self-reliant, energetic people in the building of a free and prosperous nation." 19 Rockefeller and Osborn had more ambitious plans than simply the preservation of pristine nature. They hoped to recreate a "snapshot" that would convey an image of how the area appeared at the moment of contact with European settlers. Yet Osborn and others were acutely aware that any hint of artificiality would seriously jeopardize their efforts at creating the look of "primitive wilderness." To ensure the perception of freedom-a key element in the successful re-creation of nature-animals were to be "confined in

16 For a comprehensive history of the efforts to establish Jackson Hole as a national park, see Robert W. Righter, Crucible for Conservation: The Creation of Grand Teton National Park (Boulder, Colo.: Colorado Associated University Press, 1982). See also David J. Saylor, Jackson Hole, Wyo- ming: In the Shadow of the Tetons (Norman: Univ. Oklahoma Press, 1970).

7 "1945 Minutes," Kenneth Chorley Collection, RGIV3A3. 1, Box 2, Folder 17, Rockefeller Ar- chives Center, Tarrytown, N.Y. (hereafter RAC).

18 Osborn, "The Zoological Society Is Going to Wyoming," p. 168. 19 "Laurance Rockefeller Reviews Aims of Wildlife Park at Dedication," newspaper clipping, Ken-

neth Chorley Collection, RGIV3A3. 1, Box 2, Folder 21, RAC.


such a manner that they themselves will hardly be aware of the restricting boundaries of their ranges." 20

Although Harold Fabian, who represented the interests of the Rockefeller family in Jackson Hole, had warned Laurance that adverse criticism was likely to come not only from cattlemen opposed to game conservation, but from ecologists who would "frown upon us as interfering with the processes of nature," the governor of Wyo- ming reported early public reaction to be favorable. The group was thus stunned in November 1945 by the negative publicity surrounding the project generated by the noted wildlife biologist, conservationist, and Jackson Hole resident Olaus J. Murie.21

Throughout most of his professional life, Murie was employed as a field naturalist for the U.S. Biological Survey. A graduate of Pacific University, Murie spent his early years with the Biological Survey in Alaska, where he developed a great fond- ness for the far north and was later influential in establishing the Arctic National Wildlife Range. In 1927 he was transferred to Jackson Hole to conduct a study of the life history of the elk in the greater Yellowstone area. A member of the governing council of the Wilderness Society from 1937, Murie became director of the Society in 1945 and served as its president from 1950 to 1957. The Murie's home in Moose, Wyoming, became something of a mecca for wilderness enthusiasts, and Murie became a powerful political force in promoting the cause of wilderness preservation in the United States.22

A member of the board of directors for the Jackson Hole Preserve, Inc., Murie resigned in November 1945 when word came of Rockefeller and Osborn's im- pending plans.23 Murie was concerned that building a "road-side zoo in the Jackson Hole National Monument" would set a dangerous precedent for national park policy. Although the wildlife park was to be established on Rockefeller lands, the land was eventually to be turned over to the Park Service. A fenced enclosure for wildlife within a national park would be contrary to the then-current policy of keeping the parks as natural as possible. The issue, as Murie expressed it, was "showmanship vs. natural presentation.?24 Murie dashed off articles to the local and national press criticizing the project. "Proposed Rockefeller Zoo Rapped by Director of the Wil- derness Society," read the headline of the Jackson Hole Courier, while the National Parks Magazine titled Murie's broadside "Fenced Wildlife for Jackson Hole" (Fig- ure 2). Murie argued that while "a menagerie is a wonderful service to the public in larger cities where the animal's environment is not available, it is a ludicrous intru- sion in a place like Jackson Hole, where we have the real thing, and where the

201 Publicity release, 20 December 1945, Kenneth Chorley Collection, RGIV3A3.1, Box 2, Folder 21, RAC. It is interesting that in recent efforts toward ecological restoration, the image to be recreated is usually that of habitat as it probably appeared before the coming of Euro-American culture. This strips Native Americans of their history and implies that they had little impact on the land, reinforcing the myth of the noble savage.

21 Harold Fabian to Laurance Rockefeller, 6 August 1945, Harold P. Fabian Papers, RGIV3A7.3, Box 44, Folder 437, RAC.

22 For biographical information on Murie, see The Living Wilderness, 1963, 84:3-21. For autobio- graphical accounts of Murie's life in Alaska and Jackson Hole, see Margaret and Olaus Murie, Wapiti Wilderness (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1966); Olaus J. Murie, Journeys to the Far North (Palo Alto, Calif.: Wilderness Society and American West Publishing Co., 1973). Murie's elk study was published as Olaus J. Murie, The Elk of North America (Harrisburg, Pa.: Stackpole Company, 195 1).

23 See Olaus Murie to Vanderbilt Webb, 26 November 1945, Olaus Murie Collection, Denver Pub- lic Library, Box 1, "Correspondence 1945" File (hereafter OMC).

24 Olaus Murie to Carl Hubbs, 30 July 1946, Box 361, Folder 7, OMC.

124 GREGG MITMAN

Jackson Hole Wildlife (?) Display

A. ~ A, A' ~ (I,4,/~r. * VH

'Hey, Bud, how about a peanut?'

Figure 2. A cartoon of the Jackson Hole Wildlife Park that appeared in the Jackson Hole Courier with an inscription from the cartoonist to the Muries. The cartoonist clearly shared Murie s opinion about the proposed display. (Courtesy of the Olaus Murie collection (#1221), American Heritage Centet; University of Wyoming.)

interested visitors can get their chief pleasure in discovering the animals for themselves." 25

Natural history appealed to Murie, but not because it held the promise of discovering general laws. The act of knowing an animal came not through defined pro- cedures, but through individual experience. His search was not for a transcendent vision, but for a way of seeing in which observer and observed became united through a truth of feeling.26 Murie's observational approach was more closely con- nected to the nineteenth-century's artist-naturalist tradition-to individuals like John James Audubon-than to prevailing trends toward mechanical objectivity within the twentieth-century life sciences. Through the use of portraiture and land-

25 Jackson Hole Courier, 8 November 1945; Olaus J. Murie, "Fenced Wildlife for Jackson Hole, National Parks Magazine, 1946, 20 (January-March):8-1 1.

26 This approach was most clearly expressed by Murie's good friend, the wildlife photographer Lois Crisler, when she wrote of her experience with wolves in the Arctic. "When you are learning a new wild animal there comes an unexpected moment when all at once you realize his 'selfness.' It is a flash of creative awareness. It is the break-through out of anthropomorphism." Lois Crisler, Arctic Wild (New York: Harper & Bros., 1958), p. 158. The importance of relationality between subject and object through feeling has also been of importance as a way of knowing in other scientific fields. See, for example, Evelyn Fox Keller, A Feeling for the Organism: The Life and Work of Barbara McClintock (New York: Freeman Press, 1983) and Katherine Pandora, "Dissenting Science: Psychol- ogists' Democratic Critique During the Depression Era" (Ph. D. diss., University of California-San Diego, 1993).


scape, artist-naturalists had brought to their work an expressive, emotional quality that elevated the "uncommon or unique event over the repeatable." Such representa- tional conventions, however, as Ann Shelby Blum so aptly demonstrates, proved increasingly problematic for the professional zoological community, where a trend toward standardized illustration conventions that included composite plates and schematization effectively eliminated the narrative and historical dimensions of natural history illustration. Yet the values of the artist-observer, which centered on emotional relationship and aesthetic experience, persisted well into the twentieth century in the popular literature and in fields such as ornithology, where the lines between professional and amateur could not be so readily drawn. Murie aligned himself with this popular rather than professional observational tradition.27

The strong affiliations Murie shared with the community of amateur natural historians are evident in his study of the life history of the elk.28 Based on countless hours in the field observing and describing the habits of elk, and more hours spent analyz- ing stomach contents and morphological characteristics of dead specimens, Murie's study was noticeably devoid of any experimental ethos. His published study offered numerous descriptions of encounters in the field that gave meaning to the individual animal life, as well as occasional numbers quantifying the sex ratio of the elk population or the proportion of grasses in the elk's diet. Anecdote had a place in Murie's scientific narratives because this form best captured the unique experience of an animal in the wilderness-an experience that preserved its individuality and that Murie held sacred. He shared in this respect a certain allegiance to the belief common among early twentieth-century nature writers that science could not entirely or adequately capture the life of the individual animal. Indeed, Murie expressed great admiration for nature writers such as Ernest Thompson Seton, and he had no qualms about electing Seton as an honorary member to the Wildlife Society despite the opposition of other scientists.29 By the 1960s Murie had become disheartened by the direction of wildlife biology. "So many of the modern 'wildlife management' scientists are spending so much of their time flying about in airplanes, counting animals, or marking them," he remarked, "they don't get down and live with the animals and learn how they live." For young graduate students who were dismayed by the professionals' outright rejection of the aesthetic and emotional in the study of nature, Murie became a close confidant (Figure 3).30

27 Ann Shelby Blum, Picturing Nature: American Nineteenth-Century Zoological Illustration (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1993), p. 113. For a provocative analysis of the persis- tence of natural history methodology in the social sciences in the twentieth century and its links to popular culture, see Pandora, "Dissenting Science."

28 Murie, The Elk of North America (cit. n. 22). The contrast between Murie's methodological approach and a later generation of wildlife biologists is noted in Thomas Dunlap, Saving America's Wildlife: Ecology and the American Mind, 1850-1990 (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1988), pp. 74-78.

29 Olaus Murie to Brian Morris, 14 October 1962, Box 264, "Correspondence 1963-1928" File, OMC. The role of anecdote in nature writing during the early twentieth century is explored in Ralph H. Lutts, The Nature Fakers: Wildlife, Science & Sentiment (Golden, Colo: Fulcrum Publishing, 1990). On Seton, see Thomas R. Dunlap, "The Realistic Animal Story: Ernest Thompson Seton, Charles Roberts, and Darwinism," Forest and Conservation History, 1992, 36 (April):56-62; H. Al- len Anderson, The Chief: Ernest Thompson Seton and the Changing West (College Station: Texas A & M University Press, 1986); and John Henry Wadland, Ernest Thompson Seton (New York: Amo, 1978).

" Olaus Murie to Angus Cameron, 24 April 1963, Box 264, "Correspondence 1965-1949" File, OMC. See also Thomas Choate to Olaus Murie, 15 December 1959, Box 264, "Correspondence

126 GREGG MITMAN

* fsi )[dXvIn < f

Figure 3. One of Murie k artistic renditions of elk in his published scientific study The Elk of North America. The exchange of glances between the elk and the elk looking directly at the viewer gives the animals an emotional quality and elicits an empathetic response on the part of the viewer (Courtesy of the Wildlife Management Institute.)

Like many naturalists of his generation, Murie adopted the camera as an observational tool in his field studies. Tool is an important term here, because the camera was for Murie an extension of the eye. Murie did not employ the camera to see what the eye could not. Rather, he believed, the photograph, serving as an artistic medium, could capture the emotional essence of one's unique experience with nature. William Stott, writing on the importance of the documentary genre in 1930s America, under- scores the importance of documentary's ability to "trade chiefly in emotion:' "One knows another's life," Stott writes "because one feels it; one is informed-one sees-through ones feelings." Murie greatly admired the documentaries of film- makers such as Robert Flaherty not because they informed him, but because the} moved him. "I remember going into a theater in Montana and seeing Flaherty's 'Man of Aran, I' Murie recollected in a letter to Walt Disney. "There was very little plot, but the audience frequently applauded, moved by the sheer beauty of photography."3'

Walt Disney's production of nature documentaries, which began with the release of Seal Island in 1948, won Murie's enthusiastic approval. In the Wilderness Soci- ety's publication, The Living Wilderness, Murie praised Disneys ability to convey "the simple beauty of untouched woodlands and their wild inhabitants" to the public without any threat of despoiling nature.2 He admired the "unity of esthetic experi-

1965-1949" File, OMC; and Ed Arnold to Olaus Murie, Box 264, "Correspondence 1962-1943" File, OMC.

l William Stott, Documentanr Expression and Thirties America (New York: Oxford University Press, 1973), pp. 8-9. Olaus Murie to Walt Disney, 18 September 1950, Box 264, "Correspondence, Jan. 8, 1963-" File, OMC.

32 Olaus J. Murie, 'The World We Live In " The Living Wilderness, 1951 37:17. See also Olaus J. Murie, "Adventures with Olympic Elk," The Living Wilderness, 1952, 40:21.


ence" that Disney set out to create.33 Disney's films did what Murie thought most important in nature: they brought out the individual characteristics of each living animal. Disney expressed his own sentiments clearly when he told Murie how he loved to observe squirrels for hours at his desert home-"to me they have personali- ties just as distinct and varied as humans." And Murie agreed. 'All Nature," he wrote Disney, "has much in common among its various forms, certain general laws, certain general reactions, and much that can be predicted under many circumstances. But, and I hope this is not too paradoxical, there are many distinct facets that have individuality." 34

Murie nonetheless feared that the pressure of commercialism and mass production would undermine Disney's early achievements. "There is a danger of falling into a routine technique of preparation and presentation, that deadly monotony and common-ness-like certain restaurant fare that seems to have all been cooked in the same pot," he warned Disney. "Nature on the assembly line is going to suffer in the end product without great care, and the individuality of the different pictures may be dulled by too great haste in preparation:'35

Murie did not value Disney's documentaries for their informational content. In fact, he often privately rebuked Disney for his film's factual errors. The success of Disney's True-Life Adventures, Murie felt, was in their ability to touch in each viewer an aesthetic sense that encouraged one to value and appreciate wilderness on an emotional level.

Long-time Jackson Hole residents were well aware of the power the camera could wield in arousing public sentiment for nature. The plight of the Jackson Hole elk, which Murie was assigned to study beginning in 1927, was intimately bound to the camera. In the early 1900s the largest remaining herds of elk were concentrated in the Jackson Hole-Yellowstone region (human settlement patterns had blocked the traditional autumn migration route to the wintering grounds in the Green River Ba- sin). In Jackson Hole, where there was insufficient forage, the herd was subject to periodic starvations. The harsh winter of 1909-1910 took a severe toll on the elk population and prompted Stephen Leek, an early settler in the region, to make the nation aware of the problem. A one-term member of the Wyoming legislature, Leek had developed a fascination for wildlife photography and around 1907 purchased a Pathe motion picture camera to film elk in motion. After the winter of 1909-1910, Leek went on the Orpheum vaudeville circuit showing lantern slides and footage of the starving elk. His illustrated lecture showed "graphically the needless suffering and death among these noble animals," one reporter commented. His "pictures tell eloquently much that words cannot express concerning the real situation." Due in large part to Leek's efforts, state and federal appropriations were secured for the yearly winter feeding of the Jackson Hole elk herd and the National Elk Refuge was established in the vicinity in 1912. Like Disney, Leek used the camera to capture the unique experience of nature and arouse public sentiment. Murie saw a great difference, however, between this approach-where the camera was an artistic

33 Murie to Disney, 18 September 1950, OMC. 34 Walt Disney to Olaus Murie, 4 December 1953, Box 264, "Correspondence, Jan. 8, 1963-" File,

OMC. Murie to Disney, 18 September 1950, OMC. 35 Murie to Disney, 18 September 1950, OMC.

128 GREGG MITMAN

tool-and using it as an apparatus that reproduced nature for the masses. It was the latter that Murie feared.36

Murie compared the Jackson Hole Wildlife Park to a trinket such as a post- card photograph that could be readily purchased by the masses in any tourist gift shop. Rockefeller and Osborn thought of nature in relation "to the great masses" of observers; Murie thought of "individuals."-37 On countless occasions, Murie emphasized the importance of quality over quantity and the inherent dangers in commercialism and mass society. "It seems unfortunate if people shall become statistics, categories, a labor commodity, a bloc of votes, or any other medium for manipula- tion," Murie wrote.-38 The same could be said, Murie believed, of wildlife. The Jack- son Hole Wildlife Park would demean the value of unique, individual experience with animals. Although Osborn readily admitted that encounters with animals in the wilderness produced the "greatest thrill,' it was a luxury that he thought few people could readily afford. "The Conservation movement," Osborn argued, could not suc- ceed unless it was "fortified by mass education on an unparalleled scale."'39 Murie adopted an elitist stance that Osborn thought would ultimately undermine enlisting public support for environmental causes.

While Murie realized humanity was at the "threshold of a synthetic civilization," he believed there was still room to turn back. When Struthers Burt, a long-time resident of Jackson Hole and supporter of the wildlife park, remarked that "the en- trance of man upon the scene [in Jackson Hole] immediately change[d] the balance of nature" and introduced an "artificiality," Murie queried: "Should we not try to do the best we can to preserve what remains in a civilization that has let go all holds and has turned neurotic?"40 Osborn shared Burt's sentiments. In articulating his views, Murie maintained a dichotomy between humans and nature that Osborn believed in its extremist form only led to greater alienation. Nature for Americans was something either to be conquered or preserved. Although Osborn thought preservation to be an important goal, he also looked to "European concepts of how Nature and man may survive together."4' The sharp distinction Murie made between prime- val wilderness and synthetic nature was not a line that Osborn thought one could so readily draw. "Jackson Hole [was] not a wilderness area and never [could] be." While the elk within the wildlife park would have to be fed artificially during the winter, this was no different than the practice of feeding hay to the 20,000 "wild" elk every winter on the National Elk Refuge in Jackson Hole because they no longer had

36 See newspaper clipping, "Work of Preserving the Elk Herds in the Far Western Country," S. N. Leek Collection, Box 2, "Elk History" Folder, American Heritage Center, Laramie, Wyoming. Leek's story is detailed in miscellaneous correspondence and newspaper clippings within this collection. For a sampling of his writings, see S. N. Leek, "The Life of an Elk," Outdoor Life, 1918, 42.357-360; idemn, "The Starving Elk of Wyoming," Outdoor Life, 1909 24:121-134; idem, "Denizens of the Wild," In the Open, 1915, 5:14-19. For an early account of the problems facing the Jackson Hole elk herd, see National Conference on Outdoor Recreation, The Conservation of the Elk of Jackson Hole, Wyoming (Washington, D.C.: National Conference on Outdoor Recreation, 1927).

a7 Olaus Murie, "The Game Display in Jackson Hole," 26 March 1946, Folder 7, Box 361, OMC. i' Olaus J. Murie, "Wild Country as a National Asset," The Living Wilderness, 1953, 45:12. 3 Fairfield Osborn, keynote address before the National Conference on Land-Use Policy, Omaha,

Nebraska, May 7-8, 1948, p. 4; Box l; Speeches & Writings, 1946-49, May File; FOP. 401 Struther Burt to Olaus Murie, 30 November 1945, Box 361, Folder 7, OMC; Olaus Murie to

Struthers Burt, 5 December 1945, Box 361, Folder 7, OMC. 41 Fairfield Osborn, "Keynote Address," American Institute of Biological Sciences Bulletin (Febru-

ary 1961):21.


sufficient winter range. And the "native herds" of bison to be found in the adjacent areas of Yellowstone and Wind Cave National Parks were comprised largely of introduced animals from Texas, Montana, and most notably the New York Zoological Park.42 In the case of Jackson Hole, Osborn sought a synthetic approach that integrated the technological, natural, and social into an artful construction of recreated nature.

THE VAST LABORATORY OF NATURE

Murie was successful, despite Osborn's pleas, in getting the Izaak Walton League and the American Society of Mammalogists to publicly denounce the plans for the Jackson Hole Wildlife Park at their annual meetings in 1946.43 Osborn, however, could not afford to lose the support of the biological community. Any effort at the reconstruction of nature first involved the deconstruction of nature, and here biology was to play a crucial role. To win the support of the biological community, Osborn sold the park as a field station for animal behaviorists and ecologists to conduct biological research, similar to tropical research field stations such as Barro Colorado Island in the Panama Canal Zone. The Jackson Hole Wildlife Park was to be a "vast laboratory," where field naturalists studying wildlife behavior "can work effi- ciently."44 At its 1947 meeting, the American Society of Mammalogists withdrew its objections and "commended the officials of Jackson Hole Wildlife Park for their emphasis on research."45

In January 1947, under the auspices of the New York Zoological Society and the urgings of Fairfield Osborn, a Committee for the Study of Animal Societies Under Natural Conditions met to discuss the research plans for Jackson Hole. Despite his continued private objections to the wildlife display, Murie accepted an invitation to serve on the committee, since he believed the research dimension had sufficient merit to warrant his support. The real force behind the committee, however, was not Murie and his cohort of sportsmen-naturalists employed in federal government agencies such as the Biological Survey, but a younger generation of animal behaviorists such as Frank Beach, Clarence Ray Carpenter, Nicholas Collias, John Emlen, Robert Enders, John Paul Scott, and T. C. Schneirla, who came to professional matu- rity in the postwar years and were first weaned on the research ideals embodied in university laboratories before venturing out into the field. Although the professional identity of animal behavior studies in the United States had been associated most closely with the laboratory in the interwar years, a revival of naturalistic field studies marked the years following World War 11.46 Sparked by the approaches of European ethologists, in particular Niko Tinbergen and Konrad Lorenz, the development of

42 Fairfield Osborn, "Purpose of the Jackson Hole Wildlife Park," Nat. Parks Mag. 1946, 20 (July- September):35-37.

41 For the objections of the Izaak Walton League, see The Living Wilderness, 1946, n. 17:28. 44 "Laurance Rockefeller Reviews Aims of Wildlife Park at Dedication," newspaper clipping, Ken-

neth Chorley Papers, RGIV3A3.1, Box 2, Folder 21, RAC. 45 Journal of Mammalogy, 1947, 28:431. 46 Gregg Mitman and Richard W. Burkhardt, Jr., "Struggling for Identity: The Study of Animal

Behavior in America, 1920-1945," in The Expansion of American Biology, eds. Keith R. Benson, Ronald Rainger, and Jane Maienschein (New Brunswick, N.J.: Rutgers University Press, 1991), pp. 164-194. See also Donna Haraway, Primate Visions: Gender, Race, and Nature in the World of Mod- ern Science (New York: Routledge, 1989).

130 GREGG MITMAN

new field techniques and apparatus, and an emphasis upon the behavioral mechanisms governing social interactions, this emerging network of American researchers saw in Jackson Hole the perfect opportunity to investigate the behavior of animal societies in a natural, yet controlled, setting. Through the investigation of animal societies, the committee hoped that "scientific control over destructive social phe- nomena such as warfare, crime, and poverty" could be obtained, and at the same time animal societies in danger of extinction could be "studied while there is a chance that they may be saved."47

For a generation of professional biologists immersed in the experimental techniques of laboratory science, entering the field posed methodological problems that were of little consequence to Murie and his generation. The issue was not a distinction between artifice and nature. As John Emlen noted at a 1948 conference sponsored by the Committee for the Study of Animal Societies Under Natural Conditions and the New York Zoological Society, "the very interjection of observer into the scene constitutes a prior a disturbance of natural conditions."'48 The field investigator was no different than the laboratory experimenter in this sense. The real problem was how to detach oneself from the aesthetic, empathetic engagement with nature held dear by Murie, how to train the eye so that the observer became an instrument of observation. In this context, the purpose of the camera was not to artfully render nature, but to introduce a greater distance between subject and object that would guarantee a "high degree of scientific reliability and control." While "scientific field investigators will sympathize with the attitude of the anecdotalist," remarked T. C. Schneirla, head of the American Museum of Natural History's Department of Ani- mal Behavior, "they also know that a single observation, especially when incomplete and reported from observational memory, can have no valid bearing on the solution of a problem." Repeatable and predictable observations under varied conditions within the field, readily captured on film, would more closely conform to the ideal of mechanical objectivity achieved through instrumentation within the laboratory. And in the process, the distinction between laboratory and the field would begin to break down.49

What the field offered to animal behavior researchers above and beyond the laboratory was a panoramic view of the integrated whole that was essential to understanding where more detailed investigations should begin. Clarence Ray Carpenter, whose primate studies were decisive in the resurgence of field investigations among American researchers, argued that while laboratory investigations had taken science far in analysis, they were inept at synthesizing this accumulated information. In their myopic vision, both the laboratory scientist and the technological specialist ignored the environmental and social complexes, the situational context, that had direct bearing upon individual processes. Researchers needed to have a wide-angle field of observation that eliminated the partial knowledge gleaned in the laboratory or found in the anecdotal accounts of the field naturalist. The ideal study, Schneirla argued,

47 J. P. Scott, "Foreword," Annals of the New York Academy of Sciences, 1950:1003. "Minutes of the Conference on the Jackson Hole Research Project, January 3 1-February 1, 1947," RG 1.1, 200A, Box 104, Folder 1273, Rockefeller Foundation, RAC.

48 John T. Emlen, "Techniques for Observing Bird Behavior Under Natural Conditions," Ann. NY Acad. Sci., 1950:1103.

49 T. C. Schneirla, "The Relationship Between Observation and Experimentation in the Field Study of Behavior," Ann. NYAcad. Sci., 1950:1024.


involved "coordination of field and laboratory investigation.:50 Field investigations provided the broad and synthetic picture of the landscape, a map, if you will, of the complex interdependent relations at work, for instance, in animal societies or plant communities, and thus held important clues as to where direct, manipulative proce- dures should be focused. The study was not complete, however, until these detailed laboratory analyses were reconstituted into a unified whole.

From 1947 until 1953, when the Jackson Hole research station was transferred from the New York Zoological Society to the University of Wyoming, Carpenter organized the summer research and training programs that brought upwards of twenty investigators and students each year from universities and colleges throughout the United States in the fields of ecology and animal behavior. In addition, he supervised the summer research fellowship program at the New York Zoological Park to train young fieldworkers in the study of social behavior among animals in captivity. The overall research strategy devised for Jackson Hole thereby integrated field investigations with analytic laboratory studies into a synthetic whole.5'

This research protocol is particularly evident in a documentary and promotional film on Jackson Hole produced by Carpenter in the summer of 1947. The film begins with a panorama of Jackson Hole and the Grand Tetons (Figure 4), followed by a scene of the Snake River valley and shots of resident wildlife including moose, elk, mule deer, antelope, Canada geese, and sage grouse. The film then presents a visual tour of the different vegetational communities within the park, including lodgepole pine, quaking aspen, and mixed habitat associations of sagebrush, grass, and aspen (Figure 5). This scene corresponds to a survey of the plant communities undertaken by graduate students from the University of Michigan during the first summer to have an appropriate baseline for comparison once animals were introduced into the area. Similarly, Robert Enders and students from Swarthmore College and Cornell University conducted a survey of the small mammal populations.

With the panorama of natural habitat associations established and the boundaries of the system defined, dissection and analysis can begin. Next we are introduced to a shot of a small mammal being placed in a bell jar so that metabolic tests can be made and correlated with the microclimate of its habitat (Figure 6). "Thus the work of laboratory and field is effectively combined," states the narrator, "to establish norms for animal behavior. Controlled laboratory research must supplement field observations." From here, the camera zooms in on scenes from individual studies being conducted on the ecology and behavior of the sage grouse, raptors, and moose; the nesting, breeding, and rearing behavior of Canada geese; and the social organiza- tion and behavior of elk. However, the final outcome is only achieved once the parts are reassembled into the whole; nature must be made complete. What is different from the opening scene is that humans are now part of the grand picture. In the recreation of nature, Jackson Hole Wildlife Park has effectively integrated education, entertainment, recreation, research, and nature into one. And so the movie ends:

50 C. R. Carpenter, "General Plans and Methodology for Field Studies of the Naturalistic Behavior of Animals," Ann. NYAcad. Sci., 1950:1006-1008. The myopic vision of technological experts and the need for individuals with generalist knowledge and vision was a theme emphasized in many of Osborn's public speeches. Schneirla, "The Relationship Between Observation and Experimentation," p. 1039.

5 See C. R. Carpenter, "Research and Training Activities Summer 1948," Annual Report of the New York Zoological Society, 1949:42.

132 GREGG MlITMAN

A.....~~~ ,

- -

Figure 4. A panoramic view of Jackson Hole that begins the 1947 research and training film on Jackson Hole Wildlife Park. (Courtesy of th~e Wildlife Conservation Society.)

The Jackson Hole Wildlife Park is one of the many developments in an overall plan for the intelligent use of the region in the interests of all the people. How shall it be con- served and used? As a place of rest and recreation where men and women from all over the country may relive parts of the history of the West and understand its contribution to the character ofour people.... Where vigorous winter sports may help build healthy bodie. .. Where the earth's scientists may read its history written in stone and understand the powers of climate and time. Here, too, will be developed educational exhibits of characteristic large animals of the West.... Little things and meticulous research will not be forgotten. Great things are made of small parts. The Wildlife Park will provide opportunities for training and research to men of interest and of talent. Look again at the region and the Park. This is the foundation, this is the beginning. This is the stage and you have seen a few of the actors. This is the foundation: soil, plants. animals, and people, enveloped in a mountainous western climate. This is the record of the beg.Aning of one constructive regional development-the Jackson Hole Wildlife Park.52

Murie saw the region of Jackson Hole as pristine nature, a wapiti wilderness into which the naturalist initially entered as an intruder. Once enveloped by its grand splendor, however, the observer became 'just another creature on the face of Na- ture." And in this act of engagement, one might "feel .s.r. , experience .b.i. ,hthe primal instincts and the early stirrings of aesthetic satisfactions" found among other creatures in this landscape. In contrast, the postwar generation of biologists who

5 The Jackson Hole Wildlife Park Research and Training Program Summer 1947. New York: New York Zoological Society, 1948.

53 Murie. Wapiti Wilderness (cit. n. 22). pp. 39. 30.


90 .

:. ~ ~ |.j

Figure 5. A map displaying the different vegetational communities found within the Jackson Hole Wildlife Park. (Courtesy of the Wildlife Conservation Society.)

came to Jackson Hole to learn investigative field techniques saw not a pristine nature, but a vast laboratory; nature was artifice. An artful construction in which science, entertainment, recreation, and spectacle were combined, the Jackson Hole Wildlife Park relied for its success not upon the aesthetic vision of Murie, but upon the de- tached and transcendent vision of this postwar generation.

THE PANORAMIC VIEW

In 1950, the Jackson Hole National Monument became a part of Grand Teton Na- tional Park, and the Rockefeller holdings, including the wildlife exhibit, fell under the control of the National Park Service. The University of Wyoming assumed administrative responsibility for the Research Station in 1953 and, in conjunction with the New York Zoological Society, operated it with a lease granted by the National Park Service. At a 1957 meeting to consider a lease renewal for the Research Station, all parties concerned agreed that the Park Service's objectives of preservation and education were not in conflict with the educational and research goals of the station.54 Although Murie had objected to the wildlife exhibit because it departed from trends in park policy to preserve naturalness, the goals Osborn had articulated for Jackson Hole were actually quite similar to the objectives later adopted by the

54For policy statements and activity reports of the Jackson Hole Research Station and correspondence pertaining to the transfer of the wildlife exhibit and research station, see Box 89, Folder 825, Cultural Interest Series, RG2, Rockefeller Family Collection, RAC.

134 GREGG MITMAN

Figure 6. The bell jar in the 1947 Jackson Hole Wildlife Park Film used for conducting metabolic experiments on small mammals. (Courtesy of the Wildlife Consen'ation Society.)

Department of the Interior. In 1963, an advisory board on wildlife, chaired by A. Starker Leopold, the son of Aldo Leopold, recommended to Secretary of Interior Stewart Udall that "as a primary goal ... biotic associations within each park be

maintained, or where necessary re-created, as nearly as possible in the condition that prevailed when the area was first visited by the white man.... [Olbservable artificiality in any form must be minimized and obscured in every possible way. "55

Osborn and the Leopold committee shared a desire to recreate the look of pristine nature. In the aftermath of World War II, the emergence of an affluent middle class, which placed a new value on environmental quality, intensified the demand for wilderness areas.-`6Yet increased concern about overpopulation and dwindling resources called into question whether such pristine areas could actually be found. Nature would be reborn through human hands. In the Mfrican plains exhibit, in the Jackson Hole Wildlife Park, and in the Leopold Report, one finds a common concern that in this act of creation, the presence of humans be obscured in every possible

55 A. S. Leopold et al. "Wildlife Management in the National Parks," Report of the Advisory Board on Wildlife Management to Secretary of Interior Udall, 4 March 1963, pp. 4, 8-9. The report appeared in U.S. Department of the Interior, National Park Service, Administrative Policies for Natural Areas of the National Park System (Washington, D.C., 1968).

5 Samuel Hays, Beauty, Health and Permanence: Environmental Politics in the United States, 1955-1985 (Cambridge: Cambridge Univ. Press, 1987).


way. But to recreate nature on the scale envisioned by Osborn required an incredible human and technological investment.57 To render invisible the human presence necessary in monitoring and maintaining the system required a transcendent vision comparable to that of the eye of God.

Visual technologies played an important role in this shift from an aesthetic to a transcendent vision in natural history. This shift is evident as a contrast between Murie and the postwar generation of wildlife biologists. The camera served a dual role. For Murie, it captured the individuality and emotional essence of nature; for the next generation of researchers it provided a wide-angle field of observation by distancing the researcher from the subject and precisely recording the repeatable and predictable within nature. The introduction of biotelemetry and Landsat imaging into wildlife biology made possible a limitless vision, one that transcended the bounds of human sensory experience, and removed the human observer from direct contact with nature. These visual technologies provided the panoramic view that permitted the artful construction of nature in the mechanical age by yielding information through the surveillance and monitoring of wildlife populations essential for the ecological restoration of wilderness. Paradoxically, wildlife biologists employed these technologies to facilitate the construction of a space where the individual could personally experience nature in an aesthetic way. At the professional level, they distanced themselves from an aesthetic and emotional engagement with nature, yet that very engagement was often the inspiration that drew them into biology and continued to serve as an inspiration in their study of nature.58

For John and Frank Craighead, Jackson Hole was an important site in this changing field of vision. Twin brothers, the Craigheads established a lifelong relationship with the National Geographic Society in 1935, when the two teenagers took a manuscript and photographs on their experiences training raptors to the Society's Washington, D.C., headquarters. The article, "Adventures with Birds of Prey" was published in July 1937, and the brothers became the subject of feature articles in National Geographic throughout their professional careers.59 With their 1939 book

57 Roderick Nash, Wilderness and the American Mind, 3rd ed. (New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press, 1982), pp. 327-328, heralded the Leopold report as an historical breakthrough in the adoption of a biocentric approach to national park policy. Such a view, however, overlooks how human- intensive ecological restoration of wilderness can be. On this paradox in the Leopold report, see Alston Chase, Playing God in Yellowstone: The Destruction of America 's First National Park (Bos- ton: Atlantic Monthly Press, 1986); Michael Frome, Regreening the National Parks (Tucson: Univer- sity of Arizona Press, 1992).

58 There are parallels here with Simon Schaffer's discussion of the elimination of the personal equation through the mechanization of observation within nineteenth-century astronomy. One major difference, however, is that personal experience continued to be highly valued within natural history. Although instrumentation became an important means for eliminating the partiality of individual experience within wildlife biology, it was meant to facilitate the construction of a space where the individual could personally experience nature. See Simon Schaffer, 'Astronomers Mark Time: Disci- pline and the Personal Equation," Science in Context, 1988, 2:115-145.

59 Frank and John Craighead, "Adventures With Birds of Prey," National Geographic Magazine, 1937, 72:109-134. Other feature articles on the Craigheads in National Geographic include John and Frank Craighead, "In Quest of the Golden Eagle," National Geographic Magazine, 1940, 77:693-710; John and Frank Craighead, "Life with an Indian Prince," National Geographic Maga- zine, 1942, 81:235-272; Frank and John Craighead, "Cloud Gardens in the Tetons," National Geo- graphic Magazine, 1948, 93:811-830; John and Frank Craighead, "We Survive on a Pacific Atoll," National Geographic Magazine, 1948, 93:73-94; Frank and John Craighead, "Wildlife Adventuring in Jackson Hole," National Geographic Magazine, 1956, 109:1-36; John and Frank Craighead,

136 GREGG MITMAN

Hawks in the Hand, the two newly graduated bachelor's degree students from Penn State established themselves as respected wildlife photographers, contracting work in black-and-white photography with the National Forest Service and the Biological Survey. In 1940, the Craigheads saw the camera as an artistic tool for observing and representing nature. Hawks in the Hand is a work in popular natural history, full of anecdote (Figure 7). Ten years later, after four years in the Navy and three years of graduate school at the University of Michigan, they had learned to adopt a way of seeing that shunned the aesthetic and more closely approximated a transcendent vision that would be of immense importance in their own efforts in the construction and management of wilderness areas.""

For their dissertation research, funded by the Wildlife Management Institute, the Craigheads pursued a joint project on the ecology of raptor predation. As their field site, the brothers chose a 36-square-mile area in Washtenaw County, Michigan, using information they collected during two breeding seasons at the Jackson Hole Wildlife Park for comparison. The Michigan site was chosen because it contained a small portion of woodland "uniformly scattered throughout extensive stretches of open country, and a network of section roads" that made "all parts of the area readily accessible." Every raptor movement would thus be readily visible to the observer. A "reconnaissance" mission had been conducted the previous year to ensure that the raptor population was large enough for study.6'

The Craigheads believed that a quantitative analysis based on intensive and comprehensive data on density, mortality, productivity, activities, food habits, and movements of raptors and prey populations gathered over a short period would improve understanding of raptor predation much better than the traditional qualitative approach using isolated data collected over long periods. Over a two-year period, at the end of each day, every raptor observation was recorded on field maps and dated and then transferred to other maps according to subject matter, such as hawk ranges, owl ranges, roosting areas, and activity and kill areas. The maps provided a quick and detailed visual account of an immense amount of quantitative information (Fig- ure 8). The raptor and prey populations in Washtenaw County, Michigan, were the

"Bright Dyes Reveal Secrets of Canada Geese," National Geographic Magazine, 1957, 112:817-832; Frank and John Craighead, "Knocking Out Grizzly Bears for Their Own Good," National Geo- graphic Magazine, 1960, 118:277-291; idem, "Trailing Yellowstone's Grizzlies by Radio," National Geographic Magazine, 1966, 130:252-267; John Craighead, "Sharing the Lives of Wild Golden Eagles," National Geographic Magaziine, 1967, 123.-420-439; John and Frank Craighead, "White- water Adventure on Wild Rivers of Idaho," National Geographic Magazine, 1970, 137:213-239; Frank and John Craighead, "Studying Wildlife by Satellite," National Geographic Magazine, 1973, 143:120-123; John Craighead, "Studying Grizzly Habitat by Satellite," National Geographic Maga- zine, 1976, 150:148-158.

6() Frank and John Craighead, Hawks in the Hand: Adventures in Photography and Falconry (Bos- ton: Houghton Mifflin Co., 1939).

61 John J. Craighead and Frank C. Craighead, Hawks, Owls and Wildlijf (Washington, D.C.: Wild- life Management Institute, 1956), p. 5. See also Frank C. Craighead and John J. Craighead, 'The Ecology of Raptor Predation," Transactions of the 15th North American Wildlife Conference, 1950, 15.209-223. For their other Jackson Hole studies, see John J. Craighead, A Biological and Economic Appraisal of the Jackson Hole Elk Herd (New York: New York Zoological Society and Conservation Foundation, 1952); Frank C. Craighead, A Biological and Economic Evaluation of Coyote Predation (New York: New York Zoological Society and Conservation Foundation, 1951); and Frank C. and John J. Craighead, "Nesting Canada Geese on the Upper Snake River," Journal of Wildlife Manage- mnent, 1949, 13.51-64.


M_-@ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~-

8.~~~

,~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~,

Figure 7. John Craighead "on intimate terms" with a golden eagle; taken from his 1940 National Geographic article "In Quest of the Golden Eagle." (Courtesy of the Craighead Wildlife Institute.)

subject of surveillance matched only by military reconnaissance missions during World War f.62

During the 1950s, as wildlife biologist and leader of the Montana Cooperative Wildlife Research Unit and professor of zoology and forestry at the University of Montana, John Craighead, along with his brother Frank, continued to pursue field technologies that enabled greater surveillance of wildlife. The injection of colored vegetable dyes in eggs of Canadian geese, for example, produced brightly colored

6' On the importance of aerial photography and its links to an ideology of transcendence, see Sil- verman, What is a Camera?" (cit. n. 1 1). The parallel is more than suggestive, for aerial photography during World War H was an important link in the technological and social matrix that became central to the logic of warfare and military-based technologies in the twentieth century.

138 GREGG MITMAN

8 5 4 3 2

7 8 I I i i n 12

30 29

I MILE

Figure 8. A map providing a quick and detailed visual account of the day's activities and range of a marsh hawk from the Craigheads 'dissertation research on the ecology of raptor predation. (Courtesy of the Wildlife Management Institute.)

red, green, and blue goslings whose movements the researchers could follow and record at a distance. "Vigilant spying," the Craigheads argued, had resulted in "files crammed with detailed 'biographies' of more than 1,000 goose nests," including information on the number of eggs laid and hatched and gosling mortality. In addition, colored neckbands on young geese provided more detailed information on the daily, seasonal, and annual activities of individual birds. This technique proved ad- vantageous over traditional leg bands, since leg bands were not observable from a distance and only revealed information once the bird was found dead. The Craig- heads also adapted the use of colored bands to their ecological study of grizzly bear populations in the Yellowstone area from 1959 to 1971. Over a 12-year period, 277 grizzlies were captured and individually color-marked. With this technique, movement, distribution, and mortality of the bears in the area could be discerned and used to help define the size and extent of the critical habitant necessary for their survival. Similarly, the fitting of 1,448 elk of the Northern Yellowstone herd with colored collars enabled individual animals to be identified at distances of 200 yards. This produced data on the ranges and migratory patterns of elk populations frequenting the Yellowstone area that were unavailable through more traditional ear-tag methods.


In each case, these surveillance techniques were justified to obtain "vital facts and principles on which to manage wisely a magnificent, once-threatened natural re- source for the enjoyment of future Americans."63

The colored-banding techniques used by the Craigheads furnished general information about migration routes and animal activity, but detailed knowledge of the animal's movement through time and space was still lacking. What were the centers of activity, where particular organisms spent the most time? Where were the dens of animals such as grizzly bears? Did their home ranges remain constant or change after each year? To what extent did the home ranges of different animals overlap? These types of questions went unanswered, but answering them was essential if critical habitat areas were to be defined in the re-creation of wilderness. To answer them required a wide-angle field of observation.

Military surveillance operations during World War II spawned the proliferation of a microelectronics industry that provided natural history disciplines with the visual technologies to capture the panorama of nature.M4 In 1962, the Office of Naval Re- search, in conjunction with the American Museum of Natural History and the Foun- dation for Instrumentation Education and Research, sponsored an interdisciplinary conference on "the use of telemetry in animal behavior and physiology in relation to ecological problems." The conference was attended by biologists, physicists, elec- trical engineers, and military personnel. Dwain Warner, associate professor of zoology and curator of birds at the University of Minnesota's Museum of Natural History, opened the first session of the conference by expressing his awe of the mechanical objectivity achieved within the physical sciences. "Much of the field biologists' data are obtained by sight and hearing," Warner remarked, "whereas the physical scientists and engineers have developed instrumentation for data acquisition which is more sensitive and comprehensive than human senses." With the development of biotelemetry, achieved through interdisciplinary collaborations between engineers, physicists, and ecologists and through funds from agencies such as the Office of Naval Research and the Atomic Energy Commission, the field naturalist was no longer limited by the emotional and subjective quality of human sensory experience.65 The promise of biotelemetry, Lloyd Slater remarked in an introduction to a BioScience issue devoted to the subject in 1965, was that one could "measure, am- plify, and signal out information at the site of a biological phenomenon without necessary visual or physical contact by the observer." The distancing between researcher and subject was of utmost importance. Furthermore, miniaturization through microelectronics would enable the researcher to integrate instruments "as

63 John and Frank Craighead, "Bright Dyes Reveal Secrets of Canadian Geese," p. 820, 817. See also John J. Craighead, M. G. Hornocker, W. Woodgerd, and F. C. Craighead, Jr., "Trapping, Immobi- lizing, and Color-Marking Grizzly Bears," Trans. North Am. Wildlife Conf, 1960, 25:347-363; John J. Craighead, A Proposed Delineation of Critical Grizzly Bear Habitat in the Yellowstone Region, Bear Biology Association Monograph Series No. 1. (Tonto Baxin, Ariz.: Bear Biology Association, 1980); John J. Craighead, Gerry Atwell, and Bart W. O'Gara, Elk Migrations In and Near Yellowstone National Park, Wildlife Monographs, n. 29 (Washington, D.C.: Wildlife Society, 1972).

64 On the growth of the microelectronics industry and its links to military funding in the immediate post-World War II period, see Paul Forman, "Behind Quantum Electronics: National Security as Basis for Physical Research in the United States," Historical Studies in the Physical and Biological Sciences, 1987, 18:149-229.

65 Dwain W. Warner, "Fundamental Problems in the Use of Telemetry in Ecological Studies," in Bio-Telemetry: The Use of Telemetry in Animal Behavior and Physiology in Relation to Ecological Problems, ed. Lloyd E. Slater (New York: MacMillan, 1963), pp. 16-17.

140 GREGG MITMAN

part of the living system." When placed within a closed-loop communication system, the researcher could remain invisible, while simultaneously monitoring incoming information and controlling behavior of the experimental subject through a teleme- tered stimulus.66

The most comprehensive surveillance operation in the early use of biotelemetry to gather data on animal home ranges and centers of activity took place in the early 1960s at the Cedar Creek Natural History Area, a biological field station for the University of Minnesota. With funds from the Atomic Energy Commission and the Louis W. and Maud Hill Family Foundation, John Tester and others designed an audio-radio tracking system for monitoring animal movements. Two rotating yagi antennas on 100-foot towers, placed one-half mile apart, received all radio frequencies emitted within the 4,500 acre tract. The signals were then transmitted over thousands of feet of coaxial cable to a tracking laboratory where fifty-two pairs of receivers simultaneously monitored the frequencies of radio transmitters placed on fifty-two animals, including, at various times, thirty-five red foxes, five white-tailed deer, three raccoons, six cottontail rabbits, and nine snowshoe hares. Indicator tubes that displayed the receivers' output were photographed on 16-mm film moving at a rate of 100 feet per 24 hours. The system could record the simultaneous location of every instrumented animal at 45-second intervals over a 24-hour period. Humans quickly proved to be the constraint in the system, since it took six to eight hours to transfer every 24-hour record to a base map, prompting the need to develop digital computer analysis. Apart from the initial capture and release of the animals, the human presence is relatively invisible in this thoroughgoing surveillance of nature.67

The Craigheads were themselves early pioneers in the application of radioteleme- try to wildlife biology. The study of the behavior and ecology of the grizzly bear posed major obstacles, since the bear is primarily nocturnal in its habits, traverses heavily forested and rugged terrain, and sleeps in a den five to six months of the year. To acquire information on the grizzly's home range, center of activity, selection of den sites, den construction, prehibernation behavior, and denning activities, the Craigheads fitted twenty-three grizzlies with radio collars over the course of their twelve-year ecological study of grizzlies in the Yellowstone region. Radio frequencies were monitored from a secluded base station in Yellowstone National Park that had a range of 20 miles; mobile units and portable direction finders enabled the researchers to fix a more precise location once a signal was received from the base station. On a few occasions, aircraft were used for radio-searching.68

In a scene in the 1968 National Geographic documentary of the Craigheads' grizzly bear research, the two brothers are shown in their "secluded" (read "invisible") laboratory. Surrounded by equipment, John records the signals from a receiver as

66 Lloyd E. Slater, "Introduction," BioScience, 1965, 15:82. 67 W. W. Chochran et al., 'Automatic Radio-Tracking System For Monitoring Animal Movements,"

BioScience, 1965, 15:98-100; Donald B. Siniff and John R. Tester, "Computer Analysis of Animal- Movement Data Obtained by Telemetry," BioScience, 1965, 15.104-108; John R. Tester and Donald B. Siniff, 'Aspects of Animal Movement and Home Range Data Obtained by Telemetry," Trans. North Am. Wildlife Conf , 1965, 30:379-392.

68 F. C. Craighead, J. J. Craighead, and R. S. Davies, "Radiotracking of Grizzly Bears," in Bio- Telemetry, pp. 133-148; Frank C. Craighead and John J. Craighead, "Tracking Grizzly Bears," BioScience, 1965, 15:88-92; Frank C. Craighead, Jr., and John J. Craighead, "Grizzly Bear Prehiber- nation and Denning Activities as Determined by Radiotracking," Wildlife Monographs, n. 32 (Wash- ington, D.C.: Wildlife Society, 1972).


.e ~~._

Figure 9. John Craighead in his secluded laboratory in Yellowstone recording the signals fr-om a radio receiver as grizzly bear movements on a map. "Before radio-tracking," [the Craigheads]felt they were observing the grizzlies through a keyhole. Now they have a wide-screen panoramic view." (Courtesy of the National Geographic Society.)

grizzly bear movements on a map (Figure 9). "Before radio tracking," the narrator comments, "they felt they were observing the grizzlies through a keyhole. Now they have a wide-screen panoramic view."'11 But even with biotelemetry, the quest to approximate a transcendent vision proved an elusive goal. In the 1970s, the Craig- head's use of Landsat multispectral imagery to establish the major vegetation types of grizzly bear habitat came close to being a transcendent vision. With Landsat, which involved no animal trapping or drugging, humans could indeed become invisible within the surveillance of nature. As they refined the application of multispectral imaging to critical habitat analysis, the Craigheads became disparaging of the Inter- agency Grizzly Bear Study Team's plan to launch an extensive trapping and radio- collaring program in Yellowstone in the early 1980s. Sufficient knowledge, they

argued, had been acquired on grizzly bear biology and reproduction. An intensive trapping program would only "subject an already stressed population to a high degree of disruption and man-conditioning, which will, in all probability, alter the basic biological parameters being sought." Wildlife biologists knew enough about the mechanisms of grizzly bear biology. Their task now was to "aid nature's efficient regulation to operate smoothly."710 Through Landsat imagery., computerized mapping

6 The Grizzlv Bear: A Case Study in Field Research (Washington, D.C.: National Geographic Soci- ety, 1968).

70 John J. Craighead, J. S. Sumner, and G. B. Scaggs, A Definitive System for Analysis of Grizzly Bear Habitat and Other Wilderness Resources Utilizing LANDSATMultispectral Imagery and Com- puter Technology, Wildlife-Wildlands Institute Monograph, n. 1 (Missoula: University of Montana, 1982), p. 206; Craighead, Hawks, Owls, and Wildlife (cit. n. 61), p. 336.

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systems, and limited radio collaring, humans could manage from afar, intervening only when the order of nature went awry. Bears having a past history of human confrontations, for example, could be radio collared and their "movements from developed areas to backcountry anticipated and precisely recorded," thus avoiding potential dangers to unsuspecting backcountry visitors.7'

Biotelemetry and Landsat proved valuable in securing a transcendent vision that enabled the Craigheads to recreate a place of wilderness, where people could have an aesthetic experience of nature, each in his or her unique way. It was, after all, this aesthetic experience that had first drawn the Craigheads into the study of wildlife biology. Outside the professional discipline of wildlife biology, and at times even as professionals, the Craigheads occasionally spoke of this aesthetic, empathetic engagement with nature that could not be objectified, but that motivated and perhaps sustained their interest in wildlife biology. In their dissertation research on raptors, for instance, they recounted how

a Ring-necked Pheasant roost, merely a number on the map and a flush count on a table, is a panoramic view of whirring wings, of an early morning sky momentarily filled with birds, a sedge marsh covered with tracks, a roost deep in the snow, where a hen still sits, refusing to move on a cold morning. Thus each locale-the pastured fields, the plowed ones, the stream bottoms easily flooded, the woodlot with mature beeches and numerous hollow basswoods, or the one enclosing a buttonbush kettle where rabbits congregate in winter and wood frogs are vociferous in early spring-is a separate picture with distinct habitats containing individual birds and mammals. Memories of such things form a mosaic which to the observer is the Township. This mental image of an environment, with individuals or groups of animal life in their respective places but intricately tied together by physical and biotic forces so sensitive that each small change may alter some details, cannot be completely transmitted, but must remain the posses- sion of the observers alone.72

CONCLUSION

In the late eighteenth-century, Linnaeus, in an essay regarded as a classic in the birth of ecology, wrote of the "laws of nature by which the number of species in the natural kingdoms is preserved undestroyed, and their relative proportions kept in proper bounds." Such order, Linnaeus believed, was preserved through the police of nature, where each species kept another in check, under the watchful eye of God. To overstep one's bounds was to suffer divine retribution.

Natural historians were witness to this divine order well into the first three decades of the twentieth century. In the aesthetic and empathetic engagement with nature that defined the observational approach in natural history disciplines such as ornithology and mammalogy, the observer partook of God's creation. For naturalists

7' Craighead, A Definitive System, p. 209. Currently, Yellowstone has all problem bears and 10 percent of the grizzly bear population radio-collared. Their positions are fixed on a weekly basis depending upon flight weather patterns. Personal communication with John Varley, Director of the Center for Resources, Yellowstone National Park, 14 March 1993.

72 Craighead, Hawks, Owls, and Wildlife (cit. n. 61), p. 14 (emphasis added). 73 C. D. Wilcke [Linnaeus], "On the Police of Nature," in Select Dissertations from the Amoenitates

Academicae, trans. F J. Brand (London, 1781), pp. 131-132. On Linnaeus's conception of Nemesis, see Nils Von Hofsten, "The Ecological Aspect. The Harmony of Nature" from "Linnaeus's Concep- tion of Nature," Kungl. Vetenskaps-Societetens Arbok, 1957:90-102; and Knut Hagberg, Carl Lin- naeus (London: Cape, 1952).


such as Olaus Murie, the aesthetic experience of nature was also a religious sacra- ment. But with the recognition that there was no place of innocence, that humans had desecrated every part of nature, the only option that remained was to recreate nature before the Fall.74 Any sign of artificiality would destroy the illusion of this recreated nature as God's place of grace. We desire to recreate the Garden, but the act of creation must appear as though it arose in innocence through the hands of God. Otherwise, the aesthetic experience could never be achieved. The African plains exhibit and the Jackson Hole Wildlife Park were just two early examples of the late twentieth century's preoccupation with the re-creation of nature. What these "wilderness" restorations share is that longing for human invisibility within the act of creation.

The camera was an important yet equivocal instrument in the re-creation of nature. After World War II, in the profession of natural history, the artistic camera's ability to capture the emotional essence and individuality of nature was abandoned in favor of its qualities as a scientific instrument of mechanical reproduction that simultaneously distanced researcher from subject. The introduction of biotelemetry and Land- sat imaging into wildlife biology provided visual technologies that solidified the sought-after panoramic view. And as wildlife biologists approached this transcendent vision, they also took upon themselves a management style that more closely resembled the power of an omnipresent and omniscient Being: invisible, yet ever watchful, ready at any moment to intervene and impose divine justice. They had become the divine arbiter, ensuring the police of nature.

74 On the importance of the Garden of Eden and the Fall in twentieth-century representations of nature, see Donna Haraway, Primate Visions: Gender, Race, and Nature in the World of Modern Science (New York: Routledge, 1989).

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When Nature is the Zoo