Journal articles on the topic 'Army backpack'

Two identical backpacks were treated on two occasions to be exhibited alongside at the Lisbon Military Museum. Although both backpacks are the model 1859, the treatment procedures related to the painted canvas were approached differently. The distortions and losses of canvas on the first treated backpack were easily addressed with an ultrasonic humidifier and the insertion of new canvas. Regarding the surface coating, it was consolidated with BEVA® 371, and the inserted canvas was filled with a pigmented wax paste described in a book from the late 19th century. The second backpack was in far worse condition, which, when compared with archive record, seemed likely that it was exhibited for a long period in a damp environment. There were also traces of an organic coating distinct from the original coating. These conditions resulted in a stiffer backpack, with more losses of canvas and surface coating. As a result, the distortions could not be removed, new fabric could not be properly inserted, and the consolidation of the surface coating had to be addressed in a different way. For these motives, the goal of treatment of the second treated backpack was cut short for a more realistic goal, but resulted in a good outcome, nonetheles.

Design is a very important process in the creation of a product, included in a military platform design process. The role of a design and a product designer is very important to determine the right design according to the design requirements and objectives in the field. A product designer must consider various aspects including ergonomics, because ergonomics is a very important and dominant factor in a military platform design to reduce injuries to soldiers. This study examines the role of ergonomics in a military platform design, namely in soldiers’ backpacks. From the results of the research that has been done, it is found that the Indonesian military soldiers backpack is currently still not ergonomic because it still uses the Korean military standard size as a production place for the backpack used. Therefore, it is necessary to redesign the backpack that meets the ergonomic aspects of Indonesian army. It was found that the configuration of the Indonesian soldier's backpack that should be used is a backpack that has the 5th percentile with 51 cm for the length of the backpack and 30 cm for backpack width as in the 5A configuration. Or can use the 95th percentile size with 57 cm for backpack length and 39 cm for backpack widths like those in configuration 3B. The maximum load a soldier can carry based on this research is 10% of body weight so that the soldier's posture remains normal and does not cause musculoskeletal injuries or musculoskeletal disorders.

Soldiers must often carry heavy loads which can lead to symptoms of body soreness, aches, pains, and tiredness. This study assessed symptoms when soldiers carried loads in the standard U.S. Army ALICE pack (a single backpack) and in a prototype Double Pack (a two-pack system designed to alleviate symptoms by evenly distributing the load between a backpack and a frontpack). Each of 15 male soldiers completed a 20-km (12.4 mi) road march while carrying either 34, 48, or 61 kg (75, 105, or 135 lb) and while wearing either the ALICE pack or the Double Pack. Symptoms were assessed with the Environmental Symptoms Questionnaire. Premarch symptoms included feeling alert, good, and wide awake. Postmarch symptoms included tiredness, muscle tightness, and soreness of the legs, feet, back, and shoulders. Analyses of eight symptom factors showed that (a) as load increased, fatigue and muscle discomfort intensified, and alertness and feelings of well-being diminished and (b) distress and heat-illness indices were most intense at 61 kg with the Double Pack.

Abstract A winter wheat field near Wall, SD, was chosen for this experiment. Pretreatment counts indicated that the field was naturally infested with an average of 2.1 army cutworms per 2 ft2. The study involved a comparison of 8 insecticides and an untreated check. A RCB with 3 replicates was used. Plots were 36 X 36 ft separated by 3 ft alleys. Insecticide applications were made on 2 Apr using a CO2-propelled backpack canister sprayer system equipped with 8002 flat fan nozzles delivering 20 gal/acre at 29 psi. Live cutworm counts were made 7 DAT to determine insecticide efficacy. A sample consisted of randomly selecting a 2 ft section of wheat within a row, then sifting ca. 2 inches deep through a 6 inch wide swath of soil including, and on either side of the row. A total of 8 samples (2 ft2 each) was taken randomly from each plot. Two samples were taken from each quadrant within a plot. Data were analyzed via SAS GLM procedure and means were compared using DMRT. All insecticide treatments significantly reduced army cutworm levels in comparison to untreated plots. However, no significant differences existed between compounds or application rates.

Purpose: Restricting chest movement when carrying a loaded backpack reduces efficiency and increases the work of the respiratory muscles. The aim of the present study was to investigate the effects of six weeks of inspiratory muscle training (IMT) on respiratory muscle strength and endurance and on physical performance when carrying a load. Methods: Twenty male (age: 32.2 ± 3.4 years) members of the Special Operations Unit of the Slovenian Army volunteered to participate. The experimental group (n=10) trained their respiratory muscles for six weeks against an incremental inspiratory resistance with a breathing apparatus. The placebo group (n=10) performed the same IMT protocol but with a sham inspiratory resistance. Assessment of the subjects before and after IMT included measurements of the maximal inspiratory and expiratory pressures, heart rate measurements, and ratings of perceived physical and respiratory exertion before and after a 60-min walk test with a 25-kg backpack. Results: After six weeks of IMT, the maximum inspiratory pressure measured before and after the 60-minute walk test increased significantly (p < 0.001) in the experimental group by 47 ± 13% and 58 ± 20%, respectively. Inspiratory fatigue was also significantly lower in the experimental group. No changes were observed in the heart rate and the rating of perceived exertion during the walking test. In the placebo group, no significant changes were observed in the measured parameters after IMT.Conclusion: Six weeks of IMT with progressive breathing resistance improves strength and reduces fatigue of the respiratory muscles. Individuals who perform tasks that require them to carry a heavy backpack for extended periods of time may benefit from IMT.

Abstract A winter wheat field near Murdo, SD, was chosen for this experiment. Pretreatment counts indicated that the field was naturally infested with an average of 2.4 live cutworm larvae per 2 ft2. The study involved a performance comparison of 12 insecticide treatments with an untreated check. A RCBD replicated 3 times was used. Pretreatment infestation level was used as the blocking criterion. Treatment plots were 30 × 30 ft sections of winter wheat separated by 3-ft alleys on all sides. Insecticide applications were carried out (14 May) using a CO2-propelled backpack canister sprayer system and a 6-ft boom equipped with 4, TeeJet 8002 flat fan nozzles delivering 20 gpa at 30 psi. Live cutworm counts were conducted at 6 DAT (20 May) to determine insecticide efficacy. A sample consisted of randomly selecting a 2 linear ft section of wheat within a row, then sifting ca. 2 inches deep through a 6-inch wide swath of soil including, and on either side of the row. Two samples were taken from each quadrant within a plot (i.e., a total of eight 2 ft2-samples were taken randomly from each plot). Cutworm count data were analyzed via SAS’s General Linear Models (GLM) procedure and means were compared using Duncan’s Multiple Range Test.

This study examined the relative load-carrying ability of men and women. Nineteen male and fifteen female soldiers carried loads of 18, 27, and 36 kg during individual voluntary maximal speed 10-km road marches. Measures included march times, pre- post-march vertical jump and grenade throw, and a post-march questionnaire about equipment compatibility. The major findings were that the average march rates for both male and female soldiers in all load conditions were faster than the rates published in U.S. Army field manuals. This suggests that the test subjects were within the published zone of acceptable performance. Men completed the marches an average of 21% faster than the women. Women reported more problems with the shoulder straps, fit of the waist belts, and the fit and stability of the backpack. Data suggest that at least a portion of the gender differences in march rate may be explained by equipment problems reported by the women.

AbstractIntroduction. Many studies have compared different backpack designs and their influence on the carrier; however, no data referring to school students aged 7-8 years are currently available. Therefore, the aim of the research was to assess the influence of backpack design on centre of pressure (COP) displacement and plantar force distribution in children during an upright stance. Material and methods. Nineteen school students (9 males and 10 females) volunteered for the study. Two Polish backpacks intended for school use were evaluated: backpack A, which had two main compartments, and backpack B, which had one main compartment. The backpack load was composed of books, binders, and regular school equipment. During the measurements, the subjects were asked to look ahead with the head straight and arms at the sides in a comfortable position and to stand barefoot on the F-Scan®sensors (Tekscan, F-Scan®) attached to the force platform (Kistler), carrying a load corresponding to 10% of their body mass. Results. The study found insignificant differences between the two backpack designs. Moreover, COP parameters increased significantly during an upright stance while carrying backpack B in comparison to the empty backpack condition. Additionally, we observed significantly higher values of plantar force distribution in the heel region for the condition without load and insignificantly higher ones for carrying backpack A. Conclusions. The results of the current study suggest that the differences between the two backpack designs are too marginal to be detected through COP displacement. Disturbances in plantar force distribution suggest a lack of posture control and a lower stability of the standing position with a backpack, but these disturbances were significant only when the backpack with one main compartment was used.

Military fitness testing has historically assessed individual fitness components. Fitness assessments of this nature do not adequately monitor the physical requirements of military operations. The development of a more combat-specific fitness test would enhance accuracy in assessing the soldiers’ readiness for the demands of war. This study aimed to assess the short-term reliability of the conceptualised ‘Combat Readiness Assessment’ (CRA) following a single familiarisation trial with 21 male phase-two British Army Royal Electrical and Mechanical Engineer (REME) recruits (age (years) 19.7 ± 2.5) split into two groups (N = 11 and 10) to conform with recruit availability. The CRA was designed to be a multifaceted fitness assessment aimed at replicating the physical demands of a combat situation for military personnel. Methods: Three repeated assessments of the CRA were completed over a 10-day period (trial one as a familiarisation) to assess the short-term reliability of the CRA post familiarisation. The CRA was completed carrying a 4 kg rifle (SA80 A2) and involved a 400 m (M) run wearing an 11 kg backpack (removed after the 400 M) followed by weighted carries, sprints, casualty drags and agility tasks. Completion time (seconds) was recorded to assess performance. Intraclass correlations (ICCs) (2,1) with 95% confidence intervals (CI), the standard error of the measurement (SEM) and the coefficient of variation (CV) were calculated for completion time for trials 1-3 (T1-3) and 2-3 (T2-3) to assess reliability post-familiarisation. Mean Absolute Percentage Error (MAPE) was calculated for T1-2 and T2-3. Descriptive statistics were calculated for completion time for T1-3 and T2-3. Results: The reliability following a familiarisation trial from T1-3 (ICC: 0.75; SEM: 7.1 s; CV: 9.97%) to T2-3 (ICC: 0.88; SEM: 6.4 s; CV: 10.05%) increased. Mean trial time decreased post familiarisation from T1-3 (210.9 ± 21.03 s) to T2-3 (206.3 ± 20.73 s). Conclusions: These findings are inconclusive regarding the short-term reliability of the CRA. The small sample size resulted in wide 95% confidence intervals associated with the ICCs, making the true ICC value hard to determine. The ICCs and MAPE suggest that the reliability of the CRA increased following a familiarisation trial, but this requires further research with a larger cohort to determine with confidence.

Background: Musculoskeletal disorders, an increasing concern among school going children, primarily affect muscles and tendons. They lead to secondary damage to nerves and joints in the neck, upper back, shoulders, arms, and hands, etc. The objective of this study was to determine the association of carrying heavy school bags with musculoskeletal discomfort among primary school children in government schools of Islamabad, Pakistan. Material and Methods: This cross-sectional survey was conducted in different government schools of Islamabad, Pakistan from June 2018 to November 2018. After an informed consent from parents, 377 healthy school going children aged 6-14 years were included in this study. Data was collected through Backpack Questionnaire. Chi square test was used to compare the frequency of musculoskeletal discomfort with demographic characteristics and backpack-related features. P-value less than .05 was considered statistically significant. Results: Mean age of the school children was 9.49 ± 1.53 years with 179 (46.9%) male and 203 (53.1%) female students. Majority of students (89.8%) were found with school bags more than 15% of their body weight. Shoulder pain was the most commonly reported complaint (67.3%). There was a significant association between pain and perceived backpack weight (P=.001), and between pain and self-perceived posture (P=.001). Leaning forward (66.2%) was the most commonly adopted posture followed by leaning sideways (15.4%) and stooping (2.9%), respectively. The association between pain and duration of carrying backpack from home to school was insignificant (P=.055) in contrast to pain and duration of carrying bag from school to home (P=.007), respectively. Conclusions: Musculoskeletal discomfort was found commonly among primary school children with shoulder pain being the most frequent, as maximum students were carrying heavy school bags.

In order to meet the assist requirements of extravehicular activity (EVA) for astronauts, such as moving outside the international space station (ISS) or performing on-orbit tasks by a single astronaut, this paper proposes an astronaut robotic limbs system (AstroLimbs) for extravehicular activities assistance. This system has two robotic limbs that can be fixed on the backpack of the astronaut. Each limb is composed of several basic module units with identical structure and function, which makes it modularized and reconfigurable. The robotic limbs can work as extra arms of the astronaut to assist them outside the space station cabin. In this paper, the robotic limbs are designed and developed. The reinforcement learning method is introduced to achieve autonomous motion planning capacity for the robot, which makes the robot intelligent enough to assist the astronaut in unstructured environment. In the meantime, the movement of the robot is also planned to make it move smoothly. The structure scene of the ISS for extravehicular activities is modeled in a simulation environment, which verified the effectiveness of the proposed method.

Introduction: School screening and the note home (pinned to a backpack) informing parents/caregivers that their child needs to see a dentist have not been effective. Objectives: The Family Access to a Dentist Study (FADS) evaluated the effectiveness of school interventions based on the common-sense model of self-regulation (CSM) among K–4 children needing restorative treatment. Methods: FADS was a multisite double-blind randomized controlled trial with 5 arms. FADS tested a CSM-driven referral letter and dental information guide (DIG) to move caregivers from inaccurate to accurate perceptions of dental caries. Six school districts from Ohio and Washington (14 schools) participated in school years 2015 to 2016 and 2016 to 2017. A total of 611 caregivers were randomized, and 86% ( n = 597 children) completed the exit examination. The primary outcome was receipt of care based on a change in oral health status determined clinically within 1 school year. Results: In accordance with our primary aims, 5 arms were collapsed into 3: CSM letter and reduced CSM letter (combined), CSM letter + DIG and reduced CSM letter + reduced DIG (combined), and standard letter. Among all sites, 39.7% received restorative care (237 of 597). Combined analysis of sites revealed that the CSM referral letter (with and without the DIG) did not increase dental visits when compared with the standard letter. However, for combined sites (East Cleveland, Ohio; Washington), the CSM + DIG increased dental visits when compared with standard letter in univariate analysis (51.3% vs. 40.9%), indicating 1.6-times increased odds of a dental visit (95% CI, 0.97 to 2.58) after imputation and adjustment for covariates. The CSM + DIG group had 1.9-times increased odds (95% CI, 1.21 to 3.08) of care when compared the CSM letter alone. Conclusion: A CSM-driven approach to informing caregivers of the chronic nature of caries with resources in an illustrative manner can increase the benefit of school oral health screening (ClinicalTrials.gov NCT02395120). Knowledge Transfer Statement: A school dental referral (note home) that tells a parent that the child has cavities has not been effective. In this trial, a referral based on the common-sense model of self-regulation increased follow-up care for children with restorative needs.

Abstract: Industry players are encouraged to automate as a result of technological advancements. However, due to lack of finances several businesses continue to require human labor in the production process, particularly in the operation of transferring items . Transportation activities at Dock 16 Ilir in Palembang City, starts with delivering items from the shop to the ship or vice versa by utilizing human strength in less ergonomic work positions with little consideration for the weight of the load. Whencarrying goods , the body is bent, the neck is bent, and the arms are distant from the body, putting the body at a very high risk of injury. This type of working position causes muscle aches ranging from mild to severe. The personnel seen in this investigation were rice transporters and cement transporters. The aim of this study is to quantify the workload and provide a design tool to help lessen worker concerns. The Nordic Body Map, Rapid Upper Limb Assessment (RULA), and Ovako Working Analysis System (OWAS)methodologies were used in this investigation. The study's findings showed that the five cement transport workers and four rice transport workers were at risk of developing muscoskeletal illnesses, with a risk level of 3 to 4, indicating that the risk category is very high and comprehensive treatment is required as soon as feasible. According to the OWAS technique, the posture of rice transportation employees has a value of 3, indicating that they are at high danger. Meanwhile, the working posture of cement transportation has a score of 7 with a risk level of 4, indicating that the danger of MSDS is very high. The developing aids are projected to lower the danger of Muscoskeletal Disorders in a backpack-like style that can resist large loads and reduce the risk of Muscoskeletal Disorders.

The military parachutists are responsible of special air operations who require certain capabilities in their physical condition, due to their intense professional career. The analysis of oxygen con-sumption (VO2) and heart rate (HR) allows the determination of aerobic (VT1) and anaerobic (VT2) thresholds and used to study the adequacy of the organism to exercise and in the analysis of sporting performance. The aim of this study was to determine the effect of tactical equipment on the stress test performance of elite parachutists. 10 parachutists parti-cipated in the study, between 22 and 36 years old with an average of 27.75 years (±4.20). Anthropometric values were determined of: weight 75.69 kg (±8.79), height 173.34 cm (±5.72) and body mass index (BMI) 25.23 (±2.98). Each one, performed 2 maximal treadmill exercise testing: one a conventional stress test (A) and another with the tactical equipment (weight 20 kg) (B). We obtained maximum oxygen consumption (Metalyzer 3B) and monitored the electrocardiogram continuously. The test started at a speed of 6km/h and a slope of 1%. The results of the two test were compared. The average value and standard deviation (SD) of different variables with equipment (B) and without it (A) and p-value were obtained: velocity (A: 14.80±3.29; B: 11.50±1.42 Km/h; p=0.073), HR (A: 182.7±58.62; B: 177.75±9.71 b/m; p=0.038), VO2 (A: 51.75±13.60; B: 54.00±30.82 ml/Kg/min; p=0.891). Al-so, the values of ventilatory thresholds: VT1 and VT2 of both tests were obtained, with sig-nificant differences. Tactical equipment causes a decrease in stress test performance with changes in VT1 and VT2.

After balaclava-clad Zapatistas seized control of a handful of southern Mexican towns on New Year’s Eve, 1993, and soon after became implicated in the first wide-scale use of the Internet in a warlike scenario, it was thought that the age of postmodern Internet warfare had arrived. However, while the centrality of the Internet to the movement’s relative success evokes romantic images of Zapatista rebels uploading communiqués onto the World Wide Web from remote mountain hideaways, these myths are dispelled when the impoverished living conditions of its indigenous Maya constituents are taken into account. Instead, the Zapatistas’ presence on the Internet is mediated by NGOs and other support groups who electronically publish hand-written Zapatista communiqués. While this paper demonstrates the political utility of information-age communication strategies for localised struggles for cultural autonomy, it is shown that, for the Zapatistas, these strategies work with, rather than against, traditional print culture. The Zapatistas, NGOs and the Internet Soon after the Zapatista uprising began, the New York Times, prompted by the movement’s rapid acquirement of an Internet presence, declared that the world’s first “postmodern revolutionary movement” had appeared in the unlikely location of the southern Mexican state of Chiapas (Burbach 116). Other analyses that investigate the significance of the Internet in the uprising define the EZLN as the world’s “first informational guerrilla movement” (Castells 79), and the “first social netwar” (Ronfeldt et al. 1). After such descriptions were assigned to the EZLN, an image of Zapatista rebels typing e-mails on laptops in remote mountain hideaways featured in many initial media reports. These ideas were still dominating much of the media a year after the uprising when the Mexican President ordered a raid on suspected EZLN hideouts in an attempt to capture the movement’s mestizo spokesperson, Subcomandante Marcos. Media reports at the time claimed that in some of the raids “they found as many computer disks as bullets”. There were also claims that “if Marcos is equipped with a telephone modem and a cellular phone [he could] hook into the Internet [directly] even while on the run, as he is now” (Knudson 509). However, while the Internet contributed significantly to the advance of the EZLN struggle, this romanticised and mythologised imagery is far removed from the material impoverishment that led to the movement’s uprising and which still characterises the lives of its constituents. Indeed, the Marcos that I saw addressing a crowd in the Mexican city of Puebla during the EZLN’s 2001 March for Indigenous Dignity read his speech from an old-tattered notebook—the old-fashioned printed kind, not one from the Toshiba range. He stumbled over some sections, telling the crowd that it had been smudged by the rain earlier in the day. This may have been a move calculated to enhance the charismatic appeal of the pipe-smoking, poet-guerrilla, but it is also consistent with the impoverished circumstances from which the Zapatistas emanated and within which they continue to struggle. There is a glaring anomaly between descriptions of the Zapatistas as postmodern or as the initiators of informational guerrilla warfare, or netwar, and the movement’s location in the most remote regions of an impoverished state, which has Internet hubs in only two of its towns and “no telephone or electricity at all in most of the rural areas” (Froehling 291). Indeed, the Zapatistas’ relationship with the Internet is mediated via a support network that, most significantly, includes NGOs. For the Zapatista word to reach a national and international audience the movement had to firstly rely on hand-written documents and old-fashioned means of covert communication whereby messages were passed secretly from hand to hand, galloped inside a saddle satchel, hidden in a cyclist’s bag, slipped into a backpack, or perhaps thrust inside a sack of beans, then propped in the back of an open truck, crammed with indigenous villagers who make the hours-long journey to the closest market, or doctor, and our messenger to a contact person with Internet access. (Ponce de León xxiii) The journey of the EZLN’s communiqués from the remote Chiapan highlands to a world-wide audience via its Internet-connected support network has created what Cleaver calls a “Zapatista effect” (1998). This effect demonstrates that by establishing an international electronic web of support, particularly between marginalised groups and NGOs, dominant political, economic and social policies can be effectively opposed and alternatives articulated. The Zapatista uprising marks the first time that the electronic media have been used as a strategy in their own right, producing “an electronic fabric of opposition to much wider policies”, rather than simply facilitating the “traditional work of solidarity” (Cleaver 622). Cleaver claims that this “Zapatista effect” has the potential to permeate and inform social struggles throughout the world and reweave “the fabric of politics” by demonstrating the ability of grassroots movements to form national and international collectives to challenge the power of the nation-state (637). Investigation into the usefulness of new communication technologies in times of war and struggle has also been the focus of studies conducted for the US army, leading to the development of the concept of “netwar” (Ronfeldt et al. iii). Ronfeldt et al. contend that, as a result of what they claim is the increasing dependency of contemporary society on information, “more than ever before, conflicts are about ‘knowledge’—about who knows (or can be kept from knowing) what, when, where, and why” (7-8). The study concludes that the EZLN’s development of an NGO support network that could rapidly disseminate reports on human rights abuses, information about the intolerable living conditions endured by indigenous Chiapans, and the EZLN’s communiqués has been crucial to developing the movement’s support base. However, the movement’s establishment of an electronically wired NGO support network able to circulate information about the EZLN, its struggle and its aims relies on the movement’s ability to convey information to them, the “what, when, where, and why”, before it can appear on the Internet and in other media forms. It is not simply the publication and distribution of figures relating to disease, impoverishment and human rights violations that have contributed to people’s interest in, and support for, the Zapatistas. Rather, the intriguing content and style of their discourse, which is heavily indebted to the charismatic figure of Subcomandante Marcos, has also played a crucial role. The writings of Marcos are rich with poetic imagery, humour, symbols of Mayan mythology and references to Latin American and Spanish literary figures and styles, particularly magic realism. Zapatista Narratives Marcos’ innovative and engaging discursive style is particularly evident in the stories he tells of Don Durito, a beetle named Nebuchadnezzar who has assumed the nom de guerre of Durito, which literally means the little strong or hard one, a reference to his shell, fighting spirit and his status as a ladies’ man (Subcomandante Marcos 9). Don Durito has made the floor of the Southern Mexican Lacandón jungle his home, but in Marcos’s stories he often travels the world as a knight-errant, reminiscent of Cervantes’s delusional do-gooder Don Quijote. Durito also intermittently assumes the role of a detective and that of a political analyst, and it is in this guise that he first meets Marcos. This occurs when Marcos, unable to find tobacco to fill the pipe he is never seen without, notices a trail of the dried black leaves weaving away from his hammock. After following the trail for a few metres Marcos sees, behind a stone, a bespectacled beetle clenching a tiny pipe, sitting at a tiny desk studying, as we soon discover, neoliberalism “and its strategy of domination for Latin America” (Subcomandante Marcos 12). Marcos, unfazed by the discovery of a literate, smoking beetle is taken aback by his investigation of neoliberalism. Durito explains that his scholarly interest is quite pragmatic for it stems from a desire to know how long and how successful the Zapatista struggle will be so as to ascertain “how long us beetles are going to have to be careful that you [Marcos and the other members of the Zapatista army who are based in the jungle] aren’t going to squash us with your big boots” (Subcomandante Marcos 12). In these encounters with Durito the political analyst, Marcos is given lessons in politics and economics from an inhabitant of the jungle floor, from a beetle who recognises that the danger of being squashed by “big boots” in his small patch of land is intimately linked to the global issue of neoliberalism and its much bigger boots. Through these stories, Marcos highlights the detrimental impact that global economic policies have had on the Maya of Chiapas. The character of Durito also enables him to demonstrate the potential for small, seemingly insignificant individuals or groups to radically challenge these policies and articulate alternatives. Conclusion Such entertaining and lyrical prose enables the EZLN to present itself as a new style of social revolutionary movement, far removed from traditional Latin American revolutionary struggles. This has, arguably, broadened the movement’s international support network, a situation facilitated by the circulation and publication of these writings and communiqués on the Internet by the movement’s NGO support network. However, while the use of information-age technology to stimulate the creation of collective transnational support networks presents as a useful strategy for contemporary social struggles, it does not guarantee the procurement of significant political, economic and social change. Indeed, after more than a decade of struggle, the Zapatistas have not precipitated the radical reconstruction of the Mexican political system that they had hoped for. References Burbach, Roger. Globalization and Postmodern Politics: From Zapatistas to High-Tech Robber Barons. London: Pluto Press, 2001. Castells, Manuel. The Information Age: Economy, Society and Culture Volume II: The Power of Identity. Malden, Ma.: Blackwell Publishers, 1997. Cleaver, Harry M. Jr. “The Zapatista Effect: The Internet and the Rise of an Alternative Political Fabric.” Journal of International Affairs 51.2 (1998): 621-40. Froehling, Oliver. “The Cyberspace ‘War of Ink and Internet’ in Chiapas, Mexico.” The Geographical Review 87.2 (1997): 291-307. Knudson, Jerry W. “Rebellion in Chiapas: Insurrection by Internet and Public Relations.” Media, Culture and Society 20.3 (1998): 507-18. Ponce de León, Juana. “Editor’s Note: Travelling Back for Tomorrow.” Our Word Is Our Weapon. Ed. Juana Ponce de León. London: Serpent’s Tail, 2001. xxiii-xxxi. Ronfeldt, David, et al. The Zapatista Social Netwar in Mexico. Santa Monica, California: RAND, 1998. Subcomandante Marcos. Don Durito de La Lacandona. San Cristóbal de Las Casas Chiapas: Centro de Información y Análisis de Chiapas, 1999. Citation reference for this article MLA Style Turner, Bethaney. "Information-Age Guerrillas: The Communication Strategies of the Zapatistas." M/C Journal 8.2 (2005). echo date('d M. Y'); ?> <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0506/01-turner.php>. APA Style Turner, B. (Jun. 2005) "Information-Age Guerrillas: The Communication Strategies of the Zapatistas," M/C Journal, 8(2). Retrieved echo date('d M. Y'); ?> from <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0506/01-turner.php>.

This essay combines life writing with meditations on the significance of walking as integral to the ritual practice of pilgrimage, where the individual improves her soul or health through the act of walking to a shrine containing healing relics of a saint. Braiding together insights from medieval literature, contemporary ecocriticism, and memory studies, I reflect on my own pilgrimage practice as it impacts the land itself. Canterbury, England serves as the central shrine for four pilgrimages over decades: 1966, 1994, 1997, and 2003.The act of memory was not invented in the Anthropocene. Rather, the nonhuman world has taught humans how to remember. From ice-core samples retaining the history of Europe’s weather to rocks embedded with fossilized extinct species, nonhuman actors literally petrifying or freezing the past—from geologic sites to frozen water—become exposed through the process of anthropocentric discovery and human interference. The very act of human uncovery and analysis threatens to eliminate the nonhuman actor which has hospitably shared its own experience. How can humans script nonhuman memory?As for the history of memory studies itself, a new phase is arguably beginning, shifting from “the transnational, transcultural, or global to the planetary; from recorded to deep history; from the human to the nonhuman” (Craps et al. 3). Memory studies for the Anthropocene can “focus on the terrestrialized significance of (the historicized) forms of remembrance but also on the positioning of who is remembering and, ultimately, which ‘Anthropocene’ is remembered” (Craps et al. 5). In this era of the “self-conscious Anthropocene” (Craps et al. 6), narrative itself can focus on “the place of nonhuman beings in human stories of origins, identity, and futures point to a possible opening for the methods of memory studies” (Craps et al. 8). The nonhuman on the paths of this essay range from the dirt on the path to the rock used to build the sacred shrine, the ultimate goal. How they intersect with human actors reveals how the “human subject is no longer the one forming the world, but does indeed constitute itself through its relation to and dependence on the object world” (Marcussen 14, qtd. in Rodriguez 378). Incorporating “nonhuman species as objects, if not subjects, of memory [...] memory critics could begin by extending their objects to include the memory of nonhuman species,” linking both humans and nonhumans in “an expanded multispecies frame of remembrance” (Craps et al. 9). My narrative—from diaries recording sacred journey to a novel structured by pilgrimage—propels motion, but also secures in memory events from the past, including memories of those nonhuman beings I interact with.Childhood PilgrimageThe little girl with brown curls sat crying softly, whimpering, by the side of the road in lush grass. The mother with her soft brown bangs and an underflip to her hair told the story of a little girl, sitting by the side of the road in lush grass.The story book girl had forgotten her Black Watch plaid raincoat at the picnic spot where she had lunched with her parents and two older brothers. Ponchos spread out, the family had eaten their fresh yeasty rolls, hard cheese, apples, and macaroons. The tin clink of the canteen hit their teeth as they gulped metallic water, still icy cold from the taps of the ancient inn that morning. The father cut slices of Edam with his Swiss army knife, parsing them out to each child to make his or her own little sandwich. The father then lay back for his daily nap, while the boys played chess. The portable wooden chess set had inlaid squares, each piece no taller than a fingernail paring. The girl read a Junior Puffin book, while the mother silently perused Agatha Christie. The boy who lost at chess had to play his younger sister, a fitting punishment for the less able player. She cheerfully played with either brother. Once the father awakened, they packed up their gear into their rucksacks, and continued the pilgrimage to Canterbury.Only the little Black Watch plaid raincoat was left behind.The real mother told the real girl that the story book family continued to walk, forgetting the raincoat until it began to rain. The men pulled on their ponchos and the mother her raincoat, when the little girl discovered her raincoat missing. The story book men walked two miles back while the story book mother and girl sat under the dripping canopy of leaves provided by a welcoming tree.And there, the real mother continued, the storybook girl cried and whimpered, until a magic taxi cab in which the father and boys sat suddenly appeared out of the mist to drive the little girl and her mother to their hotel.The real girl’s eyes shone. “Did that actually happen?” she asked, perking up in expectation.“Oh, yes,” said the real mother, kissing her on the brow. The girl’s tears dried. Only the plops of rain made her face moist. The little girl, now filled with hope, cuddled with her mother as they huddled together.Without warning, out of the mist, drove up a real magic taxi cab in which the real men sat. For magic taxi cabs really exist, even in the tangible world—especially in England. At the very least, in the England of little Susie’s imagination.Narrative and PilgrimageMy mother’s tale suggests how this story echoes in yet another pilgrimage story, maintaining a long tradition of pilgrimage stories embedded within frame tales as far back as the Middle Ages.The Christian pilgrim’s walk parallels Christ’s own pilgrimage to Emmaus. The blisters we suffer echo faintly the lash Christ endured. The social relations of the pilgrim are “diachronic” (Alworth 98), linking figures (Christ) from the past to the now (us, or, during the Middle Ages, William Langland’s Piers Plowman or Chaucer’s band who set out from Southwark). We embody the frame of the vera icon, the true image, thus “conjur[ing] a site of simultaneity or a plane of immanence where the actors of the past [...] meet those of the future” (Alworth 99). Our quotidian walk frames the true essence or meaning of our ambulatory travail.In 1966, my parents took my two older brothers and me on the Pilgrims’ Way—not the route from London to Canterbury that Chaucer’s pilgrims would have taken starting south of London in Southwark, rather the ancient trek from Winchester to Canterbury, famously chronicled in The Old Road by Hilaire Belloc. The route follows along the south side of the Downs, where the muddy path was dried by what sun there was. My parents first undertook the walk in the early 1950s. Slides from that pilgrimage depict my mother, voluptuous in her cashmere twinset and tweed skirt, as my father crosses a stile. My parents, inspired by Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales, decided to walk along the traditional Pilgrims’ Way to Canterbury. Story intersects with material traversal over earth on dirt-laden paths.By the time we children came along, the memories of that earlier pilgrimage resonated with my parents, inspiring them to take us on the same journey. We all carried our own rucksacks and walked five or six miles a day. Concerning our pilgrimage when I was seven, my mother wrote in her diary:As good pilgrims should, we’ve been telling tales along the way. Yesterday Jimmy told the whole (detailed) story of That Darn Cat, a Disney movie. Today I told about Stevenson’s Travels with a Donkey, which first inspired me to think of walking trips and everyone noted the resemblance between Stevenson’s lovable, but balky, donkey and our sweet Sue. (We hadn’t planned to tell tales, but they just happened along the way.)I don’t know how sweet I was; perhaps I was “balky” because the road was so hard. Landscape certainly shaped my experience.As I wrote about the pilgrimage in my diary then, “We went to another Hotel and walked. We went and had lunch at the Boggly [booglie] place. We went to a nother hotel called The Swan with fether Quits [quilts]. We went to the Queens head. We went to the Gest house. We went to aother Hotle called Srping wells and my tooth came out. We saw some taekeys [turkeys].” The repetition suggests how pilgrimage combines various aspects of life, from the emotional to the physical, the quotidian (walking and especially resting—in hotels with quilts) with the extraordinary (newly sprung tooth or the appearance of turkeys). “[W]ayfaring abilities depend on an emotional connection to the environment” (Easterlin 261), whether that environment is modified by humans or even manmade, inhabited by human or nonhuman actors. How can one model an “ecological relationship between humans and nonhumans” in narrative (Rodriguez 368)? Rodriguez proposes a “model of reading as encounter [...] encountering fictional story worlds as potential models” (Rodriguez 368), just as my mother did with the Magic Taxi Cab story.Taxis proliferate in my childhood pilgrimage. My mother writes in 1966 in her diary of journeying along the Pilgrims’ Way to St. Martha’s on the Hill. “Susie was moaning and groaning under her pack and at one desperate uphill moment gasped out, ‘Let’s take a taxi!’ – our highborn lady as we call her. But we finally made it.” “Martha’s”, as I later learned, is a corruption of “Martyrs”, a natural linguistic decay that developed over the medieval period. Just as the vernacular textures pilgrimage poems in the fourteeth century, the common tongue in all its glorious variety seeps into even the quotidian modern pilgrim’s journey.Part of the delight of pilgrimage lies in the characters one meets and the languages they speak. In 1994, the only time my husband and I cheated on a strictly ambulatory sacred journey occurred when we opted to ride a bus for ten miles where walking would have been dangerous. When I ask the bus driver if a stop were ours, he replied, “I'll give you a shout, love.” As though in a P. G. Wodehouse novel, when our stop finally came, he cried out, “Cheerio, love” to me and “Cheerio, mate” to Jim.Language changes. Which is a good thing. If it didn’t, it would be dead, like those martyrs of old. Like Latin itself. Disentangling pilgrimage from language proves impossible. The healthy ecopoetics of languages meshes with the sustainable vibrancy of the land we traverse.“Nettles of remorse…”: Derek Walcott, The Bounty Once my father had to carry me past a particularly tough patch of nettles. As my mother tells it, we “went through orchards and along narrow woodland path with face-high nettles. Susie put a scarf over her face and I wore a poncho though it was sunny and we survived almost unscathed.” Certain moments get preserved by the camera. At age seven in a field outside of Wye, I am captured in my father’s slides surrounded by grain. At age thirty-five, I am captured in film by my husband in the same spot, in the identical pose, though now quite a bit taller than the grain. Three years later, as a mother, I in turn snap him with a backpack containing baby Sarah, grumpily gazing off over the fields.When I was seven, we took off from Detling. My mother writes, “set off along old Pilgrims’ Way. Road is paved now, but much the same as fifteen years ago. Saw sheep, lambs, and enjoyed lovely scenery. Sudden shower sent us all to a lunch spot under trees near Thurnham Court, where we huddled under ponchos and ate happily, watching the weather move across the valley. When the sun came to us, we continued on our way which was lovely, past sheep, etc., but all on hard paved road, alas. Susie was a good little walker, but moaned from time to time.”I seem to whimper and groan a lot on pilgrimage. One thing is clear: the physical aspects of walking for days affected my phenomenological response to our pilgrimage which we’d undertaken both as historical ritual, touristic nature hike, and what Wendell Berry calls a “secular pilgrimage” (402), where the walker seeks “the world of the Creation” (403) in a “return to the wilderness in order to be restored” (416). The materiality of my experience was key to how I perceived this journey as a spiritual, somatic, and emotional event. The link between pilgrimage and memory, between pilgrimage poetics and memorial methods, occupies my thoughts on pilgrimage. As Nancy Easterlin’s work on “cognitive ecocriticism” (“Cognitive” 257) contends, environmental knowledge is intimately tied in with memory (“Cognitive” 260). She writes: “The advantage of extensive environmental knowledge most surely precipitates the evolution of memory, necessary to sustain vast knowledge” (“Cognitive” 260). Even today I can recall snatches of moments from that trip when I was a child, including the telling of tales.Landscape not only changes the writer, but writing transforms the landscape and our interaction with it. As Valerie Allen suggests, “If the subject acts upon the environment, so does the environment upon the subject” (“When Things Break” 82). Indeed, we can understand the “road as a strategic point of interaction between human and environment” (Allen and Evans 26; see also Oram)—even, or especially, when that interaction causes pain and inflames blisters. My relationship with moleskin on my blasted and blistered toes made me intimately conscious of my body with every step taken on the pilgrimage route.As an adult, my boots on the way from Winchester to Canterbury pinched and squeezed, packed dirt acting upon them and, in turn, my feet. After taking the train home and upon arrival in London, we walked through Bloomsbury to our flat on Russell Square, passing by what I saw as a new, less religious, but no less beckoning shrine: The London Foot Hospital at Fitzroy Square.Now, sadly, it is closed. Where do pilgrims go for sole—and soul—care?Slow Walking as WayfindingAll pilgrimages come to an end, just as, in 1966, my mother writes of our our arrival at last in Canterbury:On into Canterbury past nice grassy cricket field, where we sat and ate chocolate bars while we watched white-flannelled cricketers at play. Past town gates to our Queen’s Head Inn, where we have the smallest, slantingest room in the world. Everything is askew and we’re planning to use our extra pillows to brace our feet so we won’t slide out of bed. Children have nice big room with 3 beds and are busy playing store with pounds and shillings [that’s very hard mathematics!]. After dinner, walked over to cathedral, where evensong was just ending. Walked back to hotel and into bed where we are now.Up to early breakfast, dashed to cathedral and looked up, up, up. After our sins were forgiven, we picked up our rucksacks and headed into London by train.This experience in 1966 varies slightly from the one in 1994. Jim and I walk through a long walkway of tall, slim trees arching over us, a green, lush and silent cloister, finally gaining our first view of Canterbury with me in a similar photo to one taken almost thirty years before. We make our way into the city through the West Gate, first passing by St. Dunstan’s Church where Henry II had put on penitential garb and later Sir Thomas More’s head was buried. Canterbury is like Coney Island in the Middle Ages and still is: men with dreadlocks and slinky didjeridoos, fire tossers, mobs of people, tourists. We go to Mercery Lane as all good pilgrims should and under the gate festooned with the green statue of Christ, arriving just in time for evensong.Imagining a medieval woman arriving here and listening to the service, I pray to God my gratefulness for us having arrived safely. I can understand the fifteenth-century pilgrim, Margery Kempe, screaming emotionally—maybe her feet hurt like mine. I’m on the verge of tears during the ceremony: so glad to be here safe, finally got here, my favorite service, my beloved husband. After the service, we pass on through the Quire to the spot where St. Thomas’s relic sanctuary was. People stare at a lit candle commemorating it. Tears well up in my eyes.I suppose some things have changed since the Middle Ages. One Friday in Canterbury with my children in 2003 has some parallels with earlier iterations. Seven-year-old Sarah and I go to evensong at the Cathedral. I tell her she has to be absolutely quiet or the Archbishop will chop off her head.She still has her head.Though the road has been paved, the view has remained virtually unaltered. Some aspects seem eternal—sheep, lambs, and stiles dotting the landscape. The grinding down of the pilgrimage path, reflecting the “slowness of flat ontology” (Yates 207), occurs over vast expanses of time. Similarly, Easterlin reflects on human and more than human vitalism: “Although an understanding of humans as wayfinders suggests a complex and dynamic interest on the part of humans in the environment, the surround itself is complex and dynamic and is frequently in a state of change as the individual or group moves through it” (Easterlin “Cognitive” 261). An image of my mother in the 1970s by a shady tree along the Pilgrims’ Way in England shows that the path is lower by 6 inches than the neighboring verge (Bright 4). We don’t see dirt evolving, because its changes occur so slowly. Only big time allows us to see transformative change.Memorial PilgrimageOddly, the erasure of self through duplication with a precursor occurred for me while reading W.G. Sebald’s pilgrimage novel, The Rings of Saturn. I had experienced my own pilgrimage to many of these same locations he immortalizes. I, too, had gone to Somerleyton Hall with my elderly mother, husband, and two children. My memories, sacred shrines pooling in familial history, are infused with synchronic reflection, medieval to contemporary—my parents’ periodic sojourns in Suffolk for years, leading me to love the very landscape Sebald treks across; sadness at my parents’ decline; hope in my children’s coming to add on to their memory palimpsest a layer devoted to this land, to this history, to this family.Then, the oddest coincidence from my reading pilgrimage. After visiting Dunwich Heath, Sebald comes to his friend, Michael, whose wife Anne relays a story about a local man hired as a pallbearer by the local undertaker in Westleton. This man, whose memory was famously bad, nevertheless reveled in the few lines allotted him in an outdoor performance of King Lear. After her relating this story, Sebald asks for a taxi (Sebald 188-9).This might all seem unremarkable to the average reader. Yet, “human wayfinders are richly aware of and responsive to environment, meaning both physical places and living beings, often at a level below consciousness” (Easterlin “Cognitive” 265). For me, with a connection to this area, I startled with recollection emerging from my subconscience. The pallbearer’s name in Sebald’s story was Mr Squirrel, the very same name of the taxi driver my parents—and we—had driven with many times. The same Mr Squirrel? How many Mr Squirrels can there be in this small part of Suffolk? Surely it must be the same family, related in a genetic encoding of memory. I run to my archives. And there, in my mother’s address book—itself a palimpsest of time with names and addressed scored through; pasted-in cards, names, and numbers; and looseleaf memoranda—there, on the first page under “S”, “Mr. Squirrel” in my mother’s unmistakable scribble. She also had inscribed his phone number and the village Saxmundum, seven miles from Westleton. His name had been crossed out. Had he died? Retired? I don’t know. Yet quick look online tells me Squirrell’s Taxis still exists, as it does in my memory.Making KinAfter accompanying a class on a bucolic section of England’s Pilgrims’ Way, seven miles from Wye to Charing, we ended up at a pub drinking a pint, with which all good pilgrimages should conclude. There, students asked me why I became a medievalist who studies pilgrimage. Only after the publication of my first book on women pilgrims did I realize that the origin of my scholarly, long fascination with pilgrimage, blossoming into my professional career, began when I was seven years old along the way to Canterbury. The seeds of that pilgrimage when I was so young bore fruit and flowers decades later.One story illustrates Michel Serres’s point that we should not aim to appropriate the world, but merely act as temporary tenants (Serres 72-3). On pilgrimage in 1966 as a child, I had a penchant for ant spiders. That was not the only insect who took my heart. My mother shares how “Susie found a beetle up on the hill today and put him in the cheese box. Jimmy put holes in the top for him. She named him Alexander Beetle and really became very fond of him. After supper, we set him free in the garden here, with appropriate ceremony and a few over-dramatic tears of farewell.” He clearly made a great impression on me. I yearn for him today, that beetle in the cheese box. Though I tried to smuggle nature as contraband, I ultimately had to set him free.Passing through cities, landscape, forests, over seas and on roads, wandering by fields and vegetable patches, under a sky lit both by sun and moon, the pilgrim—even when in a group of fellow pilgrims—in her lonesome exercise endeavors to realize Serres’ ideal of the tenant inhabitant of earth. Nevertheless, we, as physical pilgrims, inevitably leave our traces through photos immortalizing the journey, trash left by the wayside, even excretions discretely deposited behind a convenient bush. Or a beetle who can tell the story of his adventure—or terror—at being ensconced for a time in a cheese box.On one notorious day of painful feet, my husband and I arrived in Otford, only to find the pub was still closed. Finally, it became time for dinner. We sat outside, me with feet ensconced in shoes blessedly inert and unmoving, as the server brought out our salads. The salad cream, white and viscous, was presented in an elegantly curved silver dish. Then Jim began to pick at the salad cream with his fork. Patiently, tenderly, he endeavored to assist a little bug who had gotten trapped in the gooey sauce. Every attempt seemed doomed to failure. The tiny creature kept falling back into the gloppy substance. Undaunted, Jim compassionately ministered to our companion. Finally, the little insect flew off, free to continue its own pilgrimage, which had intersected with ours in a tiny moment of affinity. Such moments of “making kin” work, according to Donna Haraway, as “life-saving strateg[ies] for the Anthropocene” (Oppermann 3, qtd. in Haraway 160).How can narrative avoid the anthropocentric centre of writing, which is inevitable given the human generator of such a piece? While words are a human invention, nonhuman entities vitally enact memory. The very Downs we walked along were created in the Cretaceous period at least seventy million years ago. The petrol propelling the magic taxi cab was distilled from organic bodies dating back millions of years. Jurassic limestone from the Bathonian Age almost two hundred million years ago constitutes the Caen stone quarried for building Canterbury Cathedral, while its Purbeck marble from Dorset dates from the Cretaceous period. Walking on pilgrimage propels me through a past millions—billions—of eons into the past, dwarfing my speck of existence. Yet, “if we wish to cross the darkness which separates us from [the past] we must lay down a little plank of words and step delicately over it” (Barfield 23). Elias Amidon asks us to consider how “the ground we dig into and walk upon is sacred. It is sacred because it makes us neighbors to each other, whether we like it or not. Tell this story” (Amidon 42). And, so, I have.We are winding down. Time has passed since that first pilgrimage of mine at seven years old. Yet now, here, I still put on my red plaid wollen jumper and jacket, crisp white button-up shirt, grey knee socks, and stout red walking shoes. Slinging on my rucksack, I take my mother’s hand.I’m ready to take my first step.We continue our pilgrimage, together.ReferencesAllen, Valerie. “When Things Break: Mending Rroads, Being Social.” Roadworks: Medieval Britain, Medieval Roads. Eds. Valerie Allen and Ruth Evans. Manchester: Manchester UP, 2016.———, and Ruth Evans. Introduction. Roadworks: Medieval Britain, Medieval Roads. Eds. Valerie Allen and Ruth Evans. Manchester: Manchester UP, 2016.Alworth, David J. Site Reading: Fiction, Art, Social Form. Princeton: Princeton UP, 2016.Amidon, Elias. “Digging In.” Dirt: A Love Story. Ed. Barbara Richardson. Lebanon, NH: ForeEdge, 2015.Barfield, Owen. History in English Words. Grand Rapids: William B. Eerdmans Publishing, 1967.Berry, Wendell. “A Secular Pilgrimage.” The Hudson Review 23.3 (1970): 401-424.Bright, Derek. “The Pilgrims’ Way Revisited: The Use of the North Downs Main Trackway and the Medway Crossings by Medieval Travelers.” Kent Archaeological Society eArticle (2010): 4-32.Craps, Stef, Rick Crownshaw, Jennifer Wenzel, Rosanne Kennedy, Claire Colebrook, and Vin Nardizzi. “Memory Studies and the Anthropocene: A Roundtable.” Memory Studies 11.4 (2017) 1-18.Easterlin, Nancy. A Biocultural Approach to Literary Theory and Interpretation. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins UP, 2012.———. “Cognitive Ecocriticism: Human Wayfinding, Sociality, and Literary Interpretation.” Introduction to Cognitive Studies. Ed. Lisa Zunshine. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins UP, 2010. 257-274.Haraway, Donna. “Anthropocene, Capitalocene, Plantationocene, Chthulucene: Making Kin.” Environmental Humanities 6 (2015): 159-65.James, Erin, and Eric Morel. “Ecocriticism and Narrative Theory: An Introduction.” English Studies 99.4 (2018): 355-365.Marcussen, Marlene. Reading for Space: An Encounter between Narratology and New Materialism in the Works of Virgina Woolf and Georges Perec. PhD diss. University of Southern Denmark, 2016.Oppermann, Serpil. “Introducing Migrant Ecologies in an (Un)Bordered World.” ISLE 24.2 (2017): 243–256.Oram, Richard. “Trackless, Impenetrable, and Underdeveloped? Roads, Colonization and Environmental Transformation in the Anglo-Scottish Border Zone, c. 1100 to c. 1300.” Roadworks: Medieval Britain, Medieval Roads. Eds. Valerie Allen and Ruth Evans. Manchester: Manchester UP, 2016.Rodriquez, David. “Narratorhood in the Anthropocene: Strange Stranger as Narrator-Figure in The Road and Here.” English Studies 99.4 (2018): 366-382.Savory, Elaine. “Toward a Caribbean Ecopoetics: Derek Walcott’s Language of Plants.” Postcolonial Ecologies: Literatures of the Environment. Eds. Elizabeth DeLoughrey and George B. Handley. Oxford: Oxford UP, 2011. 80-96.Sebald, W.G. The Rings of Saturn. Trans. Michael Hulse. New York: New Directions, 1998.Serres, Michel. Malfeasance: Appropriating through Pollution? Trans. Anne-Marie Feenberg-Dibon. Stanford: Stanford UP, 2011.Walcott, Derek. Selected Poems. Ed. Edward Baugh. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1997. 3-16.Yates, Julian. “Sheep Tracks—A Multi-Species Impression.” Animal, Vegetable, Mineral: Ethics and Objects. Ed. Jeffrey Jerome Cohen. Washington, D.C.: Oliphaunt Books, 2012.