Looking about me with ecologist’s eyes, I begin to see the convention center and the surrounding infrastructure as a thriving ecosystem. In the morning, ecologists disperse to the convention center site in pulses via shuttle busses and more gradually by walking. This movement could be viewed as diurnal migration, a common feature of many animals.

Although one could follow a food chain in the traditional sense, it would be fairly dull. In essence, the Starbucks at the Hyatt concentrates various energy-rich products of photosynthesis, and the ecologists graze thereupon, until there are no more strawberry-banana smoothies available.

Perhaps more interesting is following the path of information. As the first presentation of the day unfolds, information flows from one ecologist to many. This information, if deemed interesting, is further spread throughout the day from audience members to their friends and colleagues, with a peak of information transmission occurring after 5 PM at local bars. Simultaneously, posters sessions transmit information over an hour or two via one-to-one interactions.

This information flow reverses the familiar “pyramid of numbers” in which one top predator—an orca whale, say—eats several smaller animals, who in turn eat many more even smaller organisms, until one works down to something tiny, photosynthetic and numerous like plankton. Here, the producers of information—the plankton—are presenters, and the many more numerous receivers of the information are the attendees who fly away from Albuquerque stuffed with new ecological knowledge.

And I suppose that is the fundamental difference between food energy and information. Food energy is finite, and in fact never makes it from prey to predator without lots of it being lost. Information can be reproduced endlessly.

It would be very interesting to me if it were somehow possible to track which research leaves the conference in the largest number of brains. Would sessions with largest audience always win out? Or would there be sleeper research, communicated to a paltry crowd but then enthusiastically retold by that audience to friends over dinner and strangers on the shuttle bus? And which brain would leave with the largest amount of new research lodged therein? Would it be a devoted session attendee, who sits in dim ballrooms from 8 AM to 10 PM every day? Or would it be the popular and chatty friend of many, who haunts the halls and beer halls, having conversations with other attendees all day? Who is the ESA orca whale?

Looking about me with ecologist’s eyes, I begin to see the convention center and the surrounding infrastructure as a thriving ecosystem. In the morning, ecologists disperse to the convention center site in pulses via shuttle busses and more gradually by walking. This movement could be viewed as diurnal migration, a common feature of many animals.

Although one could follow a food chain in the traditional sense, it would be fairly dull. In essence, the Starbucks at the Hyatt concentrates various energy-rich products of photosynthesis, and the ecologists graze thereupon, until there are no more strawberry-banana smoothies available.

Perhaps more interesting is following the path of information. As the first presentation of the day unfolds, information flows from one ecologist to many. This information, if deemed interesting, is further spread throughout the day from audience members to their friends and colleagues, with a peak of information transmission occurring after 5 PM at local bars. Simultaneously, posters sessions transmit information over an hour or two via one-to-one interactions.

This information flow reverses the familiar “pyramid of numbers” in which one top predator—an orca whale, say—eats several smaller animals, who in turn eat many more even smaller organisms, until one works down to something tiny, photosynthetic and numerous like plankton. Here, the producers of information—the plankton—are presenters, and the many more numerous receivers of the information are the attendees who fly away from Albuquerque stuffed with new ecological knowledge.

And I suppose that is the fundamental difference between food energy and information. Food energy is finite, and in fact never makes it from prey to predator without lots of it being lost. Information can be reproduced endlessly.

It would be very interesting to me if it were somehow possible to track which research leaves the conference in the largest number of brains. Would sessions with largest audience always win out? Or would there be sleeper research, communicated to a paltry crowd but then enthusiastically retold by that audience to friends over dinner and strangers on the shuttle bus? And which brain would leave with the largest amount of new research lodged therein? Would it be a devoted session attendee, who sits in dim ballrooms from 8 AM to 10 PM every day? Or would it be the popular and chatty friend of many, who haunts the halls and beer halls, having conversations with other attendees all day? Who is the ESA orca whale?