Nature provides ecosystem services for humans that keep us alive. Forests provide air and water filtration, storm buffers, and protect us from erosion but we often don’t take care of them. In my undergraduate career, I set out to research reliable ways to ascertain forest health. I examined this big question by studying a small amphibian: the red-backed salamander. Native to the Eastern United States, this salamander is an important bioindicator species. Bioindicators are a cost-effective, time saving tool for conservation biologists. Instead of surveying the health of every species, a single bioindicator can be used to estimate the health of the whole forest because they are sensitive to disturbance. If your bioindicator isn’t doing well, the forest is not doing well either. The salamander population I studied lived in the forest next to a roadside in Pennsylvania. Climate change has made winter weather more severe in the Northeast, leading to longer and harsher snowstorms. When this happens, a lot of salt is put on the roads that then leeches into the forest’s soils. This leads to salt pollution which, if progressed too far, can cause ecosystem collapse. For my research, I built on a long-term monitoring study by collecting soil samples to establish a soil salinity trend and then designed an experiment exposing wild-caught salamanders to a salinity gradient. My findings showed that soil pH and low salamander abundance are significantly linked at a habitat fragmented site, corroborating their use as a bioindicator and useful forest health diagnostic. However, more research is needed to understand the effect of road salt on low salamander abundance. If chosen for this scholarship, I would use the grant to pursue a master’s degree, further exploring this topic while asking new, more complex research questions.

I am a part of a group of hobbyists called vultures who appreciate nature by collecting animal bones. Bone collecting presents a variety of ways to connect with nature. My ventures into the woods take me on long hikes, familiarizing me with the firs and pines. I walk the waterways, greeting the perch and minnows, and see other friends have visited the riverbanks: raccoon, opossum, and duck tracks. The canopy is alive with birdsong so I pull out my binoculars to see the starlings and jays. The sound of snapping twigs draws me to the deer. I follow them deeper and, when I meet thicket where they come to bed, I find bones of some long-forgotten creature. I retrieve a bone (a skull if I’m lucky) on my reconnaissance mission and use identifying features to discern its species. I am careful to leave the majority of bones behind for the squirrels in need of calcium to nibble. Why do I do this? Because nature is a puzzle in which everything fits. The animals and the plants and the water all fit together, work together, harmoniously. The bones I bring back are a puzzle, too. They’ve inspired discussion with friends, family, and children about anatomy, life, death, pathology, nutrient cycling, climate change, endangered species and more. Bones are an avenue for nature education. When I educate others, it inspires appreciation within them for the environment that subsequently leads to its conservation. Some people forget humans are a part of nature and that one day we will return to it. Before we do, we need to make sure it will remain long after we’re gone. I honor nature by dedicating my studies to its conservation and my free time to inspiring the love of nature in others.