An Accidental Plant Ecologist
For most of the past 10 years I wanted to study sharks, or bears, or tigers, or anything big, dangerous, and deadly. Working with these animals seemed like the coolest possible job and that’s what I planned on doing after I finished my bachelor’s degree. But unfortunately, I graduated in 2020 as Covid-19 shut the world down. Nowhere was hiring, especially not the jobs working with apex predators which were scarce to begin with. I searched patiently for a few months, however the car dealership I worked at was going out of business and I was desperate for a job. So, I broadened my job hunt a bit and reluctantly accepted a graduate research/teaching position at a university nearby to study plant ecology and work towards a master’s degree.
I tried to convince myself I enjoyed it for the first 2 months, but I couldn’t keep that lie alive. I was bored and my research felt pointless. I was jealous of scientists who spent their days in boats and jungles tracking down elusive predators, while I sat hunched over my laptop with my PJs on reading about plants. I dreaded going to work, I procrastinated every deadline, I put little effort into my classes, and I browsed job boards daily in hopes of discovering a way out. I never found one.
During my final semester, I ramped up the job search and applied to several per week. It was during this process I noticed many of the jobs and research positions working with apex predators didn’t interest me like they used to. The projects seemed narrow-minded, only focusing on one species or a small patch of land. Whereas the plant ecology jobs I came across spanned entire oceans and continents. Changes in plant communities seem to tie into everything, even the apex predators I had dreamed of working with. There are seagrasses that fight climate change through carbon sequestration and support fish populations, forests that provide lumber for our houses and habitats for countless other organisms, wetlands that provide water filtration and flood control for the coasts, grasslands that preserve soils and protect them from erosion, and the list goes on. I realized that plants run the world, that they support nearly every other lifeform on earth.
There was a specific turning point where I knew I was happy studying plants. I was listening to another graduate student’s presentation on black bears and caught myself wondering how plants were involved, instead of how I could ditch them for the bears. After that, I defended my thesis with a newfound pride that carried me through to graduation.
I had learned plants were a great fit for me — an indecisive generalist who wants to poke his nose into every possible field. And with plants, I get to do that. They affect such a wide range of organisms and ecosystems they can relate to just about anything, from birds and bats who roost in trees, to mangroves that provide habitats for shark pups. I could research the carbon storing capabilities of rainforests, or explore grasslands and the pollinators they support, I could delve into the medicinal qualities of plants, or even study the history of the planet through ancient tree rings. The possibilities are endless. My sporadic mind has a never-ending list of trails to wander down, and that brings me joy.
