he bothered to look—could typically spot rangers nearby, toting automatic rifles, eyes searching the bush. “What about cheetah and leopard?” he asked.
“You will see both, in good time.”
Driving south and west, Leboo pointed at zebras on the move up a draw, grazing as a unit. “This is dry season. Zebra and wildebeest have moved back into the park. Their wet season ranges are to the south.”
“Beautiful thing to see. These the only zebra in the park?”
“Many are here. More will come.”
To the west, across the grasslands, lay distant upland forests. Species Jack had no clue about. He pulled a notepad from his shirt pocket and wrote two entries. Plant book. Plant key.
The radio crackled, then words, none in English. Samuel seemed to turn an ear, listening. When the talk died away, he said, “Did you form an opinion about Gabriel Kagunda’s research?”
“I did.”
“And?”
“Very thorough. Are you sure you have the background to help, Samuel?”
Leboo held his eyes on the road. “Are you saying I cannot contribute without being a scientist?” He gave the radio a look, as more chatter came over the speaker.
“What language is that?”
“Maasai. You will also hear Swahili and English. I wish for you to teach me how to do his work. I do not expect to learn enough to call myself a scientist, but I hope to keep the project moving forward. To not let it suffer a sudden death.”
“Samuel, no offense, but Gabriel’s study plans are not exactly basic. They require both a good knowledge of the local flora, and a detailed understanding of sampling methods and statistics. Have you thought about turning to the local university? Finding a grad student. Someone to help.”
“I have. I had believed two students from university would join us today. They did not come. Their professors are concerned.”
“Same response as Oxford? Concerned for their safety?”
“Yes. I promised protection, but still, they did not come.” A look of resolve formed on his face. “For now, it is only I to assist. You are here for only so long. I must learn what I can, while I can.”
“Maybe you should rethink this. Put things off a while. Find someone with credentials to do this permanently. Send me home, bring me back when the fear has blown over.”
“Are you afraid?”
“No, it’s just that . . . ”
“I will find someone. I hope it is while you are here. For now, you have me to teach.”
“This may be tougher than you think. Plus, I need some things. Basic supplies.”
“What?”
“Three-quarter inch PVC pipe, or whatever it is in metric used here, and cotton cord. I need a plant key. If there are plant books published for the park, that’d make things easier.”
Samuel steered the Land Cruiser off the road and stopped. He climbed out and returned with a well-worn day pack. From the top of the pack jutted four pieces of three-quarter inch PVC. Samuel took hold of the pipe and pulled, sliding them out of the pack. One meter long. Small screws set at intervals. Elbows for forming a square. He handed them over, then dug into the pack again, finding white cotton cord wrapped around a stick. Opening the pack wider, he stared inside, then pulled out two books. Plants of Nairobi National Park, and The Plants of South Central Kenya.
“That’s responsive.” Jack took one book and flipped through the pages. Dichotomous key. Perfect. “I’m impressed. You have everything we need to get started.”
“They are Gabriel Kagunda’s. I intend to return them to his wife, but not until I have cleaned the blood from his pack.”
Jack glanced over. Reddish black stained the nylon. “Should we be using this?” Jack whispered.
Samuel looked up. “I think he would want us to do so, to continue his work. I will ask his wife, but for now, show me what this is for.”
Jack exited the Land Cruiser, PVC in hand. He plugged the long pieces into the elbows, then strung the cord between screws. “Nine equal squares. Three by three, defined by the cotton cord. This is a quadrat. Basic tool of the plant ecologist.” He let it drop. It lay over grass and forbs. “Gabriel prescribed using what are called Daubenmire cover classes. Common methodology in rangeland studies. Very commonly used in the United States and, I suppose, elsewhere. Two days ago, I was helping a colleague, using this very methodology.”
Samuel nodded.
“Daubenmire used half a dozen cover classes, from as small as zero to five percent . . . the mid-point of which is two point five percent . . . to as large as complete coverage . . . ninety-five to one hundred percent for the class. So, these grasses, are, uh, . . .” He reached for the park plant book.
“Themeda triandra and Bothriochloa insculpta.”
Jack glanced over. “Serious?” He opened the index at the back of the book, found Themeda triandra and turned to the page. He studied the picture, then looked at the grass. “Very good, Samuel. You know your grasses.”
He smiled.
“If we assume this species covers almost all of the quadrat, we’d give it ninety-seven percent cover, midpoint for the cover class. This little forb in the corner . . .” He pointed, giving Samuel a questioning look.
“I do not know. Is it not inconsequential, as small and as few as there are?”
“Maybe, but that’s not for us to decide. We’ll let the science—the analysis—determine that.” He pointed at another plant. “How about this one?”
“I do not know that one.”
“Okay, what about this one?”
“I do not know that one.”
“We were going strong there for a moment. I’ll key them out later. Each would get listed with a small amount of cover.” He picked up the quadrat, and tossed it a few meters away. “Now, those plants, those species are entirely different. By randomly locating the quadrat, and doing enough quadrats to deal with the variability between quadrats, you sample the population—and compile information to use in statistical analyses. Those analyses are used to make inferences about the entire ecosystem. Looking at impacts, and levels of utilization by wildlife species and humans, and comparing those results over time, to controls—or places where you do not have utilization—you can actually draw inferences about system resistance and resilience.”
Samuel nodded.
Jack turned to face him. “So, Samuel, you obviously know some plants, but not all. More importantly, you’re not a scientist. You don’t strike me as a foolish man. Even with the risk of losing the research, it’d be better to put it on hold than do it poorly, dishonoring the reputation of Gabriel as a scientist. Take
