Our remote fieldwork taught us how to band together as scientists

In 2023 and 2024, the three of us spent two five-week field seasons on Sable Island, a tree-less environment in the Canadian province of Nova Scotia. It was originally settled in 1801, when a life-saving station was built to aid sailors whose ships had been wrecked. The island consists of grasses and shrubs that sustain a population of around 450 feral horses, descended from an unknown population introduced in the mid-1700s. A meteorological station was established in the 1890s, and biological research began in the 1970s.

Two of us (V.C. and J.A.) were there to collect data for our PhD projects. O.A. was a summer undergraduate researcher; V.C. and O.A. research the feral horses and work 16-hour days to conduct field surveys and laboratory work. J.A. collects and processes atmospheric microplastic samples in the mornings and then monitors her equipment throughout the rest of the day.

The island is almost 25 times longer than it is wide. Its expansive coastline hosts the largest breeding population of grey seals (Halichoerus grypus) in the world and has a rich biodiversity of seabirds. The weather often changes without warning, from blaring heat to dense fog. There is an average summer population of 15 people, including federal employees, researchers and visiting academics.

Our island ‘town’ is Parks Canada’s main station. This cluster of buildings, mostly from the 1940s, includes our shared accommodations. The Visitors’ Quarters building has all the comforts of home. Electricity, running water, Wi-Fi and laundry facilities all make the isolation and long working days easier.

We’ve reflected on our shared experiences to compile advice for early-career researchers (ECRs) journeying into the pressure-cooker environment of remote fieldwork, which poses many challenges. These include managing logistics for the first time, fixing damaged field gear and navigating group dynamics at close quarters. We encourage all ECRs going into the field to take initiative. Given that the barrier between work and life tends to dissolve in the field, initiative can take different forms from those that you might be used to. For example, you might offer to cook, or to verify weather conditions for the next working day or even just to sweep up if you notice that it needs to be done.

Don’t overcomplicate things

Getting to your remote field site is hard, typically involving making relevant partnerships, applying for permits and funding, and ensuring that you are prepared to conduct your science in the field. Don’t be hard on yourself. Fieldwork is unpredictable; for reasons from illness to adverse weather conditions, it isn’t always possible to do everything you initially planned. Put your health and safety first, to prevent burnout.

We were lucky to spend two periods at our field site, enabling us to better understand sampling protocols and the environment. This helped to reduce the risk of our project not meeting our expectations. For example, V.C.’s work is part of a long-term monitoring project on the feral horses, collecting data through photography and non-invasive faecal sampling without disturbing or handling the animals. Her first field season was spent gaining experience with her study system, which inspired the direction of her PhD project, by asking new questions that use data collected over the past 17 years.

With any field project, we suggest working with what’s available. In designing her field programme, J.A. could have collected data anywhere on the island, but instead chose to use existing infrastructure, because it didn’t require any extra construction. J.A. has adapted a localized sampling approach that minimizes island travel and uses the Air Chemistry building in the island’s main town to take samples. And although choosing not to sample at multiple points on the island has reduced the number of variables to measure, by keeping things simple, J.A. has framed her project to have reliable data while minimizing its impact on the environment. Our two projects have taken approaches that support the philosophy of ‘leave no trace’, which should inform our work as field scientists.

Capture science in action

We have supported each other in documenting our fieldwork experiences. This has involved waking up at the crack of dawn to photograph microplastic collections or hiking across the island to document data being collected on feral-horse biology.

We’ve invested time in developing stories about our research and filming each other in the field, with the intention of sharing the results with audiences back home through seminars, articles and educational-outreach initiatives. J.A. photographed O.A. and V.C. during their fieldwork; the photos were used in an article celebrating O.A.’s experience as an Indigenous scholar. V.C. and O.A. helped J.A. to document her science for her virtual tour, part of her National Geographic Society grant.

J.A. shared her knowledge about science communication and photography, and as a group we gained a better understanding of how to develop an impactful story arc and capture complementary footage. As a group, we’ve become better science communicators, working together to capture research in action, so that we can share our science beyond our time in the field. Sharing your research can not only inspire others, but also help to elevate your professional profile and reputation in your field.

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doi: https://doi.org/10.1038/d41586-024-03972-4

This is an article from the Nature Careers Community, a place for Nature readers to share their professional experiences and advice. Guest posts are encouraged.

This story originally appeared on: Nature - Author:Victoria Crozier