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No shit: how I lost my one-of-a-kind collection and my girlfriend, too
05 February 2009
For his PhD, Daniel Bennett had built a unique set of faecal samples from a rare lizard. When it was destroyed, he really hit bottom
To some people it might have been just a bag of lizard shit, but to me it represented seven years of painstaking work searching the rainforest with a team of reformed poachers to find the faeces of one of the world's largest, rarest and most mysterious lizards. I didn't realise just how much my bag of lizard shit meant to me until it was "accidentally" incinerated at the University of Leeds early in the third year of my PhD.
Whether it was the largest collection of lizard shit in the world is uncertain, but it certainly contained the only dietary sample from that little-known species Varanus olivaceus, and probably the most complete dietary record of any single population of animals in South East Asia. Its loss left me reeling and altered the course of my life for ever.
Varanus olivaceus - otherwise known as the butaan - is closely related to the infamous Komodo dragon of Indonesia, and is considered to be at least as important in conservation terms. Unlike its formidable cousin - in fact, unlike any other monitor lizard - the butaan and its close relatives eat only fruit and snails, and they spend virtually all their lives high in the canopy of lowland dipterocarp forest in the Philippines.
Unfortunately for them, they have a reputation among local people for being extremely delicious, but they are so shy and rare that very few people have ever actually seen, let alone tasted, one. In fact, the butaan is so reclusive that all attempts to study it using methods that have proved suitable for the Komodo dragon and other large lizards have ended in total failure.
After an encounter with humans, butaan never return to the place where they were captured. The capture of a single animal often results in the total cessation of activity by all butaan in the area, probably because trapped individuals release scents that deter others from coming too close. Habituating such a tasty beast to the presence of humans would clearly not be in the species' best interests, so studying the butaan requires completely non-intrusive methodologies.
My team and I studied the animals by searching the forest floor for their distinctive faeces and using clues from their shit to estimate dietary patterns, population size and structure, and activity areas. After five years of shit-searching, I felt that I could collect enough reliable data about the lizards to earn a PhD. On the basis of my work, I was lucky enough to be awarded a scholarship by Leeds.
By the beginning of the third year of my PhD, I knew more about lizard shit than I had ever thought possible. Returning to Leeds from fieldwork, I was surprised to find my desk space occupied by another student and to see that photographs of my daughter, my girlfriend and my favourite lizards had been removed from the wall.
The laboratory space where my samples had been stored was empty. Irritation turned to fear as I realised that my personal effects had been carefully stowed in boxes, but there was no sign of my 35kg bag of lizard shit. Fear turned to anger and bewilderment when I learnt that my samples had been "accidentally" removed from the lab and incinerated.
The department's reaction to my plight was, to say the least, muted. In fact, it took 16 months before I received an official response to my complaint, which offered me £500 compensation and announced that new protocols had been established to ensure that no other students suffered a similar mishap.
The loss of my samples did not prevent me from finishing my PhD, but the effect it had on my motivation and enthusiasm was profound. The samples represented the only primary evidence for my study and, as such, were the only way anybody could verify my findings.
They also had the potential to be used for a great deal of postdoctoral research. The apparent indifference of the department to the destruction of my collection compounded my feeling of despair.
By the time I received its reply to my complaint - just seven weeks before the final deadline to submit my thesis - I had been in deep depression for about a year. The day after that, my girlfriend of ten years left me. People are rarely at their happiest when writing a thesis, but I needed a waterproof keyboard to finish mine.
I drew a blank when I tried to find other examples of PhD students who had suffered similar experiences, although I asked many friends and colleagues throughout the world. Most people react incredulously to my story. And no, I didn't accept the university's £500, and yes, I will see them in court. Watch this space.
Daniel Bennett is a street musician.
Readers' comments
Commiserations Daniel, and well told. I can't possible compete with your sad tale but it's replete with metaphors and analogies that will resonate with many PhD survivors, myself included. I've been told the key to getting through a PhD is to let go of all your shitty baggage- in your case the reverse was true. Congratulations on battling through the forest and the mire and good luck for the next episode- I'm looking forward to reading your court transcripts.
Took me the best part of ten years to put a bad thesis experience behind me. The depression was overwhelming. I think the experience will always be with me just under the surface. And mine pales in comparison to Daniel’s. Daniel, I hope you complete your PhD as soon as possible, and strongly encourage you to do so as the only therapy that will get you on the road to recovery. As to the resulting loss of postdoc research material, I suspect a resulting irritation will always be just under the surface of your consciousness. I hope you get a positive result in court and that the compensation award is more than sufficient to start your research afresh or embark on a new research interest. I also hope that you end up with the job of your dreams at an institution that values your presence and your input. Don’t take no shit from nobody!
Next time get a safe deposit box at the First National Shit Bank, or any other bank that is a member of the Fecal Deposit Insurance Corp.
Think I would have gone postal at one point. Most of the PhD students I know would. Good luck for the future!
If the room with your things would have been completely destroyed by a fire where many young people died, would your reaction be the same? To be depressive because of lost work is as stupid as the behaviour of the university staff. I think must be a very selfish person.
In other published versions of this story it was reported that the bag was unlabelled. I've heard of this sort of thing happening a few times before, as freezers left for ages eventually get a spring clean, and if samples/bags/etc are unlabelled after asking round then out it goes. It is a shame but it does sound like an honest mistake, and I guess the moral of this story is label everything. It seems a bit extreme to go to court, but I guess we have only got part of one half of the full story here....
I feel so sad for you! And for science, that has lost a great deal of material for future work. On the other hand, I can't really see how compensation can come about through legal means. I can't help it, but to me it looks like you better perceive it as a mistake on your part as well; we have all experienced moments when we feel like slapping ourselves for our stupidity. For not locking a door, trusting a stranger, signing the wrong contract. I don't know if the bag was smelly, but in any case, a bag full of shit might as well be taken good care of, and that's what the cleaners did. Especially if unlabeled. Be angry with me, but the offer of £500 looks generous to me under the circumstances. I really wish and hope you find another partner, though, who doesn't leave you in times of great despair.
I do sympathise, to some extent. But you have have to realise that you left this in a lab that is used by dozens of people including many undergraduates. When I first visited this lab it was evident that valuable samples were NOT particularly safe there. When I have to store valuable things there, I let not only my supervisor know (did you ? If so it is in big part his fault, not the university's), but in addition I make sure as many people as possible around the lab are also aware of it (did you?). Finally the bare minimum is to have the material clearly labelled with a contact address or phone on it. As far as I can tell, I doubt your material was labelled and very few people a part from yourself knew of its existence. This is sad, but it's pretty much your own fault. I also think £500 was a generous offer.
I pretty much agree with Ismael. One of the core basic requirements for good research is adequate labelling and storage of samples. it's a good job they were not hazardous. Also, any items generated within a research project remain the property of the institution. So I really do not see what he is to be compensated for as it was not his property and he still got his phd. I imagine his trips to collect the faeces were paid for out of a grant or by means other than out of his personal pocket. So monetarily, there should be no issue. All this said, I do have some sympathy for him, and can see that it would be demotivating. But hopefully he has learned from his mistakes.
Dan - I think the banks have your samples. I keep reading about all the "toxic shit" they have on their balance sheet. Bound to be down at the local branch!
Of course the samples were labeled. The feces of this lizards are composed almost entirely of seeds and snail shell fragments. They were stored dry in individually labeled plastic bags (with the label inside the bag written in pencil (B2/3) on waterproof paper). The large hessian sack containing the samples was labeled with airline luggage tags, with an airline name/address tag and with a note stating it was work in progress. The claim that they were unlabeled was not made by the university in two years of correspondence following this event. It was first made in response to the publicity generated by my letter in THES. It is insulting and ludicrous to imply that I would spend so long collecting the material and not label it. The scholarship I received from the university paid for my tuition fees and a living allowance. The University did not cover any of the research costs of this project.
Hi Daniel, I am News Editor at Leeds Student newspaper and we are writing a story on your experiences for this week. My print deadline is tomorrow [Thursday] night but if I can, I would love to speak to you in person in the meantime regarding this - is this possible at all? If not in person, I am also happy to speak with you over the phone. Please could you email me [hy06cf@leeds.ac.uk] and let me know what you think? Many thanks, Claire Freeston
Very sorry to have read this story about Daniel. He is a valued researcher in the herpetology field. The painstaking work that went into the collection of samples is very underrated. I have seen the documentary on the Butaan lizard and his work was exemplary. The fact that his research was done in a way as to preserve the isolation of the lizard was well researched in itself. Keep up the good work Daniel and wishing you better luck in your future endeavors.
I don't believe the tone of some of the posts on this thread. Daniel is being lectured as if he were a schoolboy who's had his sports bag nicked or a rape victim who's told she asked for it. His samples were not destroyed by fire in an accident; a clearly labelled *five stone bag* was removed from designated laboratory space and incinerated through officious negligence (if not from a worse motive). Another poster tells us the laboratory was 'unsafe' because of use from a mixed cohort of students (!). Surely it's the responsibility of the University of Leeds if they are a serious university supporting post-graduate researched work, to provide a safe environment or a securely locked space where post graduate and post-doctoral researchers can keep their data and samples without worry about damage or removal? Of course Leeds must pay proper compensation. I sincerely hope Daniel is not going to allow his career to be smashed up or his life ruined through the actions of some over-zealous berk on a clearing-out kick - he may have lost the irreplaceable results of seven years, but at least he HAS got a PhD from them and has many more years than seven ahead of him no doubt to do this amazing research.
I am not suprised that you hit rock bottom. I was amazed at the prevalence of mental health problems that existed in the department I did my PhD in, particularly amongst the students. I was also completely horrified by the lack of any pastoral care or support for students experiencing difficulties. Problems ranged from those clearly on the austic spectrum to mild depression, but in my time at least two people were hospitalised. Despite this no lessosn were learned about how to support and protect vulnerable students and a year after I left one of the students committed suicide. From what I hear not even this has made a difference - students are still viewed as fodder to be chewed up and spat out - the ultimate survival of the fittest
I'm interested in this notion of pastoral care for postgrads. PhD study is particularly intense at times, yet I don't get the impression that pastoral care is generally regarded as high priority - thoughts, anyone?
A irnd of mine was working on his PhD in environmental ecology at the University of Arizona; he was studying Sonoran mud turtles living in the streams that line the canyons in the Santa Catalina Mountains north of Tucson. In June 2005 a series of wildfires in ravaged the pine forests of the Catalinas; later that summer the monsoon rains swept down the mountain face. With no ground cover left, the rain eroded the mountain face and filled the streams with sediment (and ash from the fire). All of my friends' research sites, from which he had been gathering data since 2002, were wiped out. My friend abandoned his PhD and is now playing guiatr in a rock n' roll band.
The Sonoran mud turtles student sounds very imprudent. If the research sites were wiped out by natural disaster, his three-and-a-bit years of data are therefore all the more valuable, since they constitute the last, most up-to-date record of the site, and quite possibly enough original data on which to base a PhD thesis. There would also be potential follow-up research (for him or a future PhD student) in a longitudinal survey of the species' re-colonization of the area. But playing guitar in a rock'n'roll band sounds fun.
Just wanted to agree with the posts of Michael and Anne - there are some very uninformed yet highly judgemental posts on this blog. Daniel is a highly experienced conservationist and a respected expert on lizards - see www.mampam.com for more on his work - and is highly unlikely to leave his priceless samples lying around unlabelled. I'm sure he'll pick himself up again. As did Alfred Russel Wallace, who spent years collecting specimens in South America: "Unfortunately, the voyage from South America back to England ended in disaster: a fire forced everyone to abandon ship, and Wallace lost virtually everything he had collected. He mourned his losses, then started planning his next expedition." (www.strangescience.net/wallace.htm) Good luck, Daniel.
Having recently successfully completed a poorly managed postgraduate teaching programme of an exceptionally dubious quality, allowing me to teach 14-19 year olds, I have come to the conclusion that tliving in the town of Portsmouth in the UK is a sure-fire and fast-track route to personal depression/feelings of desperation. Actively planning the end of your own life prematurely is commonplace, in the hope of escaping the serious and uncontrollable feelings of dreadful unhappiness. Delving into the reasons for these unfamiliar sucidial feelings can point towards the truly awful environment of this place: grey, sprawling, low-rise housing; group after group after group of depressed looking disabled and elderly forgettable-looking residents with missing limbs moving about in their mobility carts; possibly the ugliest looking no/low skilled apathetic groups of residents shuffling around at irritating speeds of movement; young, middle-aged and elderly communities linked only by their addiction to low-priced alcohol or NHS subsidised heroin substitutes (all of which understandably used to assist the getting through of each misery-laden 12 hour waking period) in addition to those aggressive, testoserone-fuelled local men ready to bottle/head-butt any man who is cheeky enough to exchange eye contact. There are, of course, other distinct parts of the 'pompey' community which I cannot really be bothered to explain at this time (the depression and apathy of living in the town has been hard-wired in my brain, as it has in 90+% of the general population). When asked by first time potential visitors to the 'city' of Portsmouth for suggestions of places to see and things to do, you are understandably expected to market the 'place' as a destination of throbbing diversity - full of opportunities for retail therapy, dining experiences to suit different tastes and budgets and late-night music venues to finish a busy day at. Opportunities to shop, eat, drink alcohol and dance are not optional extras confined to those extra-special/large British destinations........ it is, therefore, very unfortunate that Portsmouth offers nothing. Okay, maybe not nothing, but very little. A truly awful selection of shopping venues: a depressing, grey concrete constructed, poorly laid out city centre array of the bare minimum variety of shops. There are 3 distinct shopping venues, difficult and confusing to access from one another (by public transport and car) - aside from the original city centre (depression inducing, with no opportunities to settle and drink coffee or food - not that anyone would want to spend any more time than is necessary in this intimidating, truly awfully planned town centre), there is Southsea (has potential but has a feeling of 'just about to close-down') and finally 'Gunwharf Quays' (of shopping outlet village format, but containing very few actual real bargains). Gunwharf is the only place that offers a selection of predictable chain restaurants (Ha Ha, La