Curious about Nature: a Passion for Fieldwork. Burt, T., and D. B. A. Thompson, editors. 2020. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, U.K. 412 pp. £69.99 (hardcover). ISBN 978‐1‐108‐42804‐0.

Handbook of Citizen Science in Ecology and Conservation. Lepczyk, C. A., O. D. Boyle, and T. L. V. Vargo, editors. 2020. University of California Press, Oakland, CA, U.S.A. 313 pp. US$85.00 (hardcover). ISBN 978‐0‐520‐28477‐7.

These 2 books are united by a wish to encourage more people to get outdoors to study, survey, monitor, and record the natural world. Curious about Nature is effectively a Festschrift to the Field Studies Council (FSC), a British educational charity, established in 1943. It currently operates 20 field centers across the United Kingdom, which, in Covid‐free years, offer residential and nonresidential field courses to as many as 165,000 schoolchildren, older students, and enthusiastic adults. One of the book's editors, Tim Burt, a retired Professor of Geography at Durham University, is president of the FSC and editor of its journal, and the other, Des Thompson, is the FSC chairman as well as principal advisor on science and biodiversity to the government conservation agency Scottish Natural Heritage (now branded as NatureScot).

Unfortunately, it is far from clear what the editors are trying to achieve and who their intended audience is. It begins with 3 chapters on the history of field sciences, which it defines as “the collection of data beyond the laboratory.” The first includes an intriguing overview of the kit used in fieldwork, from the humble notebook to the latest data loggers, but it is otherwise a rather superfluous overview of the subsequent 2 chapters on the history of biological and geoscience field studies. These are too short to serve as an academic treatise on the contribution of field studies to science, yet they assume far more background knowledge than could be expected from a general reader.

The next chapter on “pioneering field heroes in the life sciences” is again too short to do its subjects justice, although it does try to mention many trailblazers. It includes a short outline on the origins of the FSC, sadly without mentioning the parallel Scottish Field Studies Association whose courses at the Kindrogan Field Centre in Perthshire, Scotland, had more of an influence on this reviewer than anything learned at university! This material will be familiar to most field scientists, who will inevitably be irritated by omissions and oversimplifications; alas, it is too superficial to inspire potential converts to field science. However, the excellent chapter on the educational benefits of out‐of‐classroom learning would have been better published as a standalone pamphlet and circulated among educationalists and government ministers.

The meat of the book is the subsequent 45 essays, typically 3–4 pages in length, on different aspects of fieldwork, that are cast widely to include everything from studies of social interactions in the Mormon community in Utah to surveys of solar hot water systems on the roofs of Mumbai and São Paulo. Even the Mars rover, Curiosity, is suggested as a further extension of fieldwork.

One author reveals that the brief for the essays was to “write about inspiring fieldwork,” but I suspect authors were not advised on whom they were writing for or why. As a result, 1 or 2 of the essays are impenetrable jargon. The Illisarvik drained‐lake field experiment in the far north of Canada seems a fascinating piece of work, but I ended none the wiser about it, having struggled with the dense terminology. Similarly, I would have loved to know more about the impact of natural CO₂ springs in Italy on the surrounding vegetation, but that essay only describes the experiment, not its conclusions.

That said, the vast majority of these essays are wonderful, evocative pieces of writing–so much so that I cannot help feeling they deserve a wider audience to have greater impact, perhaps as a weekly series of nature notes in a newspaper. In my career as a natural history writer and broadcaster, I have had the pleasure to meet many of the authors and know they are all top enthusiasts in their subjects. For example, having been dragged at speed up the steep slopes of a corrie in the Cairngorms Mountains of Scotland by Stuart Rae in search of Snow Buntings (Plectrophenax nivalis), I am not surprised that he had the determination to complete a marathon survey, which he writes about with typical verve, that has now accumulated 515 nest records of supremely camouflaged Tawny Frogmouths (Podargus strigoides) in 1200 ha of woodland near his new home in Canberra, Australia. Having spent time in the field with the arch‐enthusiast Peter Marren, it is no surprise that he writes a truly intriguing piece about his “date with the devil,” in this case the elusive Devil's bolete fungus (Rubroboletus satanas), and, knowing Scottish ornithologist Roy Dennis, I can only concur that “fieldwork is the bedrock of [his] being.” I share a kindred spirit with John Birks who, like me, was inspired by field courses at Malham in Yorkshire, England, and Abisko in Arctic Sweden, and I would love to have gone on one of Peter Higgins’ field courses on the island of Rum in Scotland, which sounded fascinating.

The various authors produce too many memorable quotes to reproduce here, but I especially like Jane Reid's description of fieldwork as an assault on the senses and emotions, “a battle between triumph and disaster, fluctuating from sublime to truly foul and back again, via the ridiculous.” Many of the authors focus on the character‐building conditions inevitably encountered in remote areas, whether it is the cold, barren landscape of Ellesmere Island in the Canadian high arctic or the scorching heat in the Grand Canyon of Colorado, where the first morning task was shake from shoes the scorpions who took up residence overnight. David Harper writes about the nerve‐jangling landing of a Twin Otter plane in the Sirius Pass of West Greenland, after which the priority was to repair the airstrip so the plane could take off again with accumulated specimens.

Several writers pay tribute to mentors who inspired them early in their careers, and, to judge from the quality of their writings, I am sure many of them, in turn, have inspired their juniors. Several express concern that fieldwork is increasingly demoted in favor of microstudies in the laboratory or the use of aerial photographs and satellite imagery in place of field observations (department heads regard those as cheaper and less challenging to the twin gods of Health & Safety).

For all its flaws, this book should do a lot to redress the balance in favor of what the editors call “real world learning.” It should be in the library of every natural or Earth science department to inspire and motivate the next generation of field naturalists. But I would also urge the editors to take the best of the essays (I scored 30 of them with 4 or 5 stars, and others could be improved with editorial guidance) and repackage them, with lots of color photographs and an introduction by some media personality, into an inexpensive, mass‐media paperback that can inspire a wider readership to get out and contribute to the study of the natural world around them.

Knowing the topic of Handbook of Citizen Science, I checked how many times the term citizen science appears in Curious about Nature: just twice in 312 pages of essays by fieldwork practitioners. The editors, however, use it 11 times in the introductory chapters in an attempt to align the book with prevailing political mores. It is not a term I like, perhaps because the word citizen seems to be associated most often by duties or responsibilities, without even the mythical compensation of making a citizen's arrest. The term only entered the Oxford English Dictionary in 2014, yet it describes the engagement of amateurs in science that has been going on for decades, arguably since the very beginnings of science.

The Botanical Society of Britain and Ireland (BSBI) is currently completing work on Atlas 2020, the third edition of an atlas recording the distribution of the British and Irish flora (the first dates from 1962). The project leaders estimate that over 15 million records were collected through the project, equivalent to perhaps 30,000 person days of work. They calculate that this would have cost at least £11 million (about US$14.6 million) if carried out by paid surveyors (Stroh & Walker 2018). I do not remember the term citizen scientist having been used once during that project. I regard the atlas recorders simply as damn good amateur botanists. Quite a few also happen to be professional botanists or professional scientists in other disciplines, notably medicine. However, I suspect most of their records were collected out of work time, so they were still amateurs in the best sense of an enthusiast who practices something for the love of it.

Against that background, I therefore approached the Handbook of Citizen Science in Ecology and Conservation with some trepidation. Sadly, it was justified because I cannot remember another book that has annoyed me quite so much but was not written by a politician. The book is entirely American‐focused, and, if it truly reflects the state of science in the United States, then that is even more parlous than I believed.

Despite occasional protestations to the contrary, the book presents a top‐down approach of professional academics designing projects in which citizens contribute as menial laborers. On page 3, it states that the authors avoid using the term volunteer for project participants “to avoid the view that citizen science is free,” but that is the book's fundamental failing. I think it is important always to remember that the participants do donate their labor; it is vital, therefore, to ensure that they are properly rewarded – by recognition, respect, support, confidence building, satisfaction, comradeship, and even fun. The book describes citizen science as “a powerful approach to answering questions and educating the public,” which it undoubtedly is, but it must be a participative approach, with the academics learning from the amateurs too.

This biased approach shows through, for example, in chapter 2 on the history of citizen science, in which the authors portray John Ray and Carl Linnaeus as “non‐trained scientists.” In fact, they were self‐trained scientists, probably with a far wider perspective on their work than most of the professional academics who contributed to this book. Chapter authors do recognize that many of ecology's most important and widely used data sets, on phenology, breeding bird distribution, bird migration, population dynamics, and much more, come from what I would call public participation programs – citizen science projects if you insist. They grudgingly admit that “a surprising number of historical citizen science datasets are documented reasonably or very well, and include high‐quality data.” I suggest that is because amateur scientists know that they are doing – as the BSBI atlases, for example, prove eloquently.

Chapter 4 considers project planning and design. The authors offer sound advice relevant to any science project, rather than tailoring it specifically to those with volunteer input. But the overcomplex diagram showing a proposed framework for designing and delivering a citizen science project (Fig. 4.1) glaringly betrays the book's key shortcomings. At no stage does it suggest engaging the volunteers to get their input on how to ensure safe, productive, supportive, and rewarding conditions that would help them contribute most effectively to the project.

Alarmingly, in the chapter on ethics, it suggests that “in some ways, volunteers act as field technicians or as scientists who participate in data collection (etc.)… In other ways, volunteers act as research subjects.” The second option might include investigating whether surveyors work better alone or in pairs, which is a valid part of project refinement. But, a later chapter notes that “an often desired goal of many citizen science programs is to foster perceptual or behavioural changes in volunteers.” If that is the aim, then to my mind, it is no longer a citizen science project but a social science experiment. It seems to me profoundly unethical for volunteers to donate so much valuable time without being explicitly informed that they are the subject of, not assistants in, the project.

The ethics chapter also notes that, during the second phase of a research life cycle, “protocols for data collection and quality assessment are piloted and refined, sometimes in conjunction with volunteers” (emphasis added). Perhaps the fact that volunteers are not automatically and invariably involved in project refinement is precisely why, as reported on page 120, “very little volunteer‐collected data ever makes it to a decision‐making forum.” In a poorly planned project, “participants end up sending data to a black box and may lose motivation to participate.”

To be fair, the book regularly suggests ways to provide feedback and encouragement to volunteers, offering support and ensuring recognition, but it is telling that there is not a single contribution from an experienced citizen scientist. Chapter 11 reports one enthusiastic amateur scientist who recently published the results of 20 years of observations on monarch butterflies (Danaus plexippus) in a peer‐reviewed journal and notes, with apparent astonishment that this was “a feat she accomplished without a professional co‐author.” Similar academic elitism pervades the entire book. Why on Earth was that lady not invited to provide a chapter in this book? She sounds a real champion of amateur science.

Part III, in which authors engaged in specific citizen science projects report on their experiences, is much more useful and encouraging. One describes the Urban Ecology Centre that grew out of a neighborhood effort to fight crime and revitalize a neglected green space in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. It recognizes that “creating and strengthening a sense of community and family” is essential for those engaged in such a project. Another reviews a reef monitoring project in California, which like so much monitoring of the marine environment would be impossible without the engagement of skilled divers who are amateur marine biologists.

The most inspiring chapter is the only one that escapes the confines of the United States: a project to involve indigenous communities in biodiversity monitoring in protected areas of Brazilian Amazonia. Here, local communities nominated an individual from their community to act as their “indigenous agroforestry agent” to be paid for by the state (not a citizen science project in the usual voluntary sense). The communities decided only to monitor hunted species because these were most relevant to their survival, and they insisted that all the resulting paper records should be retained locally for community use because they had a true sense of ownership of the data. Only electronic copies were provided to the nongovernmental organizations that coordinated the project, and published findings resulting from these had to be provided to the communities.

Overall, I can only recommend the final third of this book to anyone outside the United States looking for insights to support their own citizen science projects. But please, please will some far‐sighted publisher commission a sequel to this book written by the true heroes of these projects – the participants themselves. This should provide first‐hand guidance to academics on how to engage project volunteers in the design of projects so as to get the very best from the considerable enthusiasm, insights, commitment, local knowledge, and expertise these volunteers contribute to citizen science.

对自然充满好奇：对野外工作的热情。伯特（T. Burt）和DBA汤普森（DBA Thompson），编辑。2020.剑桥大学出版社，英国剑桥412页，69.99英镑（精装）。ISBN 978-1-108-42804-0。

生态与保护公民科学手册。Lepczyk，CA，OD Boyle和TLV Vargo，编辑。2020年。加利福尼亚大学出版社，美国加利福尼亚州奥克兰313页，85.00美元（精装）。ISBN 978-0-520-28477-7。

为了鼓励更多的人到户外学习，勘测，监测和记录自然世界，我们将这两本书合在一起。对自然充满好奇实际上是成立于1943年的英国教育慈善机构田野研究委员会（FSC）的节日庆典。它目前在英国经营20个野外中心，在无科维奇时期，该中心为许多人提供住宅和非住宅野外课程包括165,000名学童，年龄较大的学生和热情的成年人。该书的编辑之一，蒂姆·伯特（Tim Burt）是达勒姆大学（Durham University）的地理学退休教授，现任FSC主席兼该期刊的编辑，另一位Des Thompson是FSC主席兼该组织科学和生物多样性首席顾问。政府保护机构苏格兰自然遗产（现更名为NatureScot）。

不幸的是，还远未达到编辑想要达到的目标以及目标受众是谁的目的。它以关于现场科学历史的3章开始，它被定义为“实验室以外的数据收集”。第一部分包括从不起眼的笔记本到最新的数据记录器的野外工作中使用的试剂盒的有趣概述，但是在其他方面，它对随后的有关生物学和地球科学实地研究的历史的两章则是多余的概述。这些内容太短，不足以作为有关实地研究对科学的贡献的学术论文，但是它们假设的背景知识要比普通读者所期望的要多得多。

下一章“生命科学领域的开拓性英雄”虽然太短了，但它确实试图提及许多开拓者，但仍然太短了，不足以使学科公正。它包括关于FSC起源的简短概述，可悲的是，它没有提及平行的苏格兰田野研究协会，该协会在苏格兰珀斯郡的Kindrogan田野中心的课程对这名审稿人的影响比在大学里学到的要多！大多数领域的科学家都会熟悉这种材料，他们不可避免地会因遗漏和过分简化而感到恼火；遗憾的是，它太肤浅了，无法激发潜在的转换成现场科学的人。但是，关于课外学习对教育的好处的出色章节本可以作为独立的小册子更好地出版，并在教育家和政府部长之间广为流传。

这本书的内容是随后的45篇论文，涉及田野调查的不同方面，通常为3-4页，篇幅广泛，涵盖了从犹他州摩门教徒社区的社会互动研究到太阳能热水系统调查的所有内容。在孟买和圣保罗的屋顶上。甚至建议将火星漫游者“好奇号”作为野外作业的进一步扩展。

一位作者透露，本文的摘要是“撰写有关启发性的田野调查的文章”，但我怀疑作者没有被告知要为谁写作或为什么写作的建议。结果，有1或2篇论文是通俗易懂的行话。在加拿大最北端的Illisarvik排水湖野外实验似乎是一件引人入胜的工作，但我一直在努力应对繁琐的术语，对此没有什么明智的选择。同样，我很想知道意大利的天然CO ₂弹簧对周围植被的影响，但是这篇文章仅描述了实验，而不是结论。

就是说，这些文章中的绝大部分都是精彩的，令人回味的作品，以至于让我不禁感到它们应该受到更广泛的读者的影响，例如在报纸上每周发表的一系列自然笔记。在我作为自然历史作家和广播员的职业生涯中，我很高兴见到许多作家，并且知道他们都是各自学科的顶级发烧友。例如，斯图尔特·雷（Stuart Rae）在苏格兰凯恩戈姆斯山脉（Cairngorms Mountains）的陡峭斜坡上拖着雪橇寻找雪in（Plectrophenax nivalis）后，他对完成马拉松调查的决心并不感到惊讶。他用典型的神韵写道，现在已经积累了515条极其伪装的黄褐色蛙嘴（Podargus strigoides）位于澳大利亚堪培拉的新家附近的1200公顷林地中。与野心勃勃的彼得·马伦（Peter Marren）在野外度过了一段时间，毫不奇怪，他写了一篇关于他与“魔鬼的约会”的真正有趣的文章，在这种情况下是难以捉摸的魔鬼的牛肝菌（Rubroboletus satanas），并且知道苏格兰鸟类学家罗伊·丹尼斯（Roy Dennis），我只能同意“田野调查是他存在的基石”。我与约翰·伯克斯（John Birks）有着共同的精神，约翰·伯克斯与我一样，受到英国约克郡Malham和瑞典北极地区Abisko的野外课程的启发，我很想参加彼得·希金斯（Peter Higgins）在墨西哥岛上的野外课程之一。苏格兰的朗姆酒听起来很迷人。

各种各样的作者在这里都引用了太多令人难忘的名言，但我尤其喜欢简·里德（Jane Reid）对田野调查的描述，认为这是对感官和情感的攻击，“胜利与灾难之间的斗争，从崇高变为真正的犯规，然后通过荒谬的。” 许多作者关注的是在偏远地区不可避免地遇到的角色塑造条件，无论是加拿大高北极地区的Ellesmere岛的寒冷，贫瘠的景观，还是科罗拉多州大峡谷炎热的天气，在科罗拉多州的大峡谷，第一个早上的任务是过夜的蝎子从鞋子上抖下来。戴维·哈珀（David Harper）写道，双水獭飞机在西格陵兰岛的天狼星山口紧张地着陆

有几位作家向那些在职业生涯早期激发了他们灵感的导师致敬，从他们的作品质量来判断，我相信其中许多人反过来又激发了他们的下辈们。一些人表示担心，为了支持实验室的微观研究或使用航空照片和卫星图像代替实地观察，实地调查越来越多地被降级（部门负责人认为，对于健康与安全双生神来说，实价调查便宜，且挑战性​​较小）。

尽管存在所有缺陷，但本书应采取许多措施来纠正这种平衡，以支持编辑者所称的“现实世界学习”。它应该在每个自然科学部门或地球科学部门的图书馆中，以激发和激发下一代野外博物学家。但是我也要敦促编辑们选出最好的论文（我给其中的30篇打了4或5颗星，其他方面可以通过编辑指导加以改进），然后重新包装它们，并配以彩色照片和一些媒体的介绍廉价的大众媒体平装本，以此激发更多的读者走出去，并为他们周围的自然世界的研究做出贡献。

在了解《公民科学手册》的主题时，我检查了“公民科学”一词在“对自然的好奇”中出现了多少次：在312页的野外实习者论文中，只有两次。然而，编辑们在介绍性章节中使用了11次，以使本书与当时的政治风气保持一致。我不是喜欢这个词，也许是因为“公民”一词似乎经常与职责或责任相关联，甚至没有对逮捕公民的神话般的补偿。这个词只进入了牛津英语词典 但在2014年，它却描述了业余爱好者参与科学的过程，这种参与已经持续了数十年，这可以说是自科学开始以来的事。

英国和爱尔兰植物学会（BSBI）目前正在完成《Atlas 2020》的工作，该地图集是第三版，记录了英国和爱尔兰植物区系的分布情况（首次发布于1962年）。项目负责人估计，通过该项目收集了超过1500万条记录，相当于大约30,000人的工作日。他们计算得出，如果由有薪测量师进行这项工作，则至少要花费1100万英镑（约合1,460万美元）（Stroh＆Walker 2018）。我不记得公民科学家一词在该项目中曾经使用过一次。我认为地图集记录员简直是该死的优秀业余植物学家。也有不少碰巧是其他领域的专业植物学家或专业科学家，特别是医学。但是，我怀疑他们的大多数记录都是在工作时间之外收集的，因此，就爱好者的爱好而言，他们最好还是业余爱好者。

因此，在这种背景下，我有些不安地接触了《生态与保护公民科学手册》。可悲的是，这是有道理的，因为我不记得另一本书让我非常恼火，但不是由政治家写的。这本书完全是针对美国的，如果真的反映了美国的科学状况，那比我想象的要难得多。

尽管偶尔会提出相反的抗议，但本书还是提出了自上而下的专业学者设计项目的方法，在这些项目中，公民作为奴隶劳动者做出了贡献。在第3页上，指出作者避免使用术语“志愿者”对于项目参与者来说，“避免了公民科学是免费的观点”，但这是本书的根本失败之处。我认为重要的是要始终记住参与者确实捐献了自己的劳动。因此，至关重要的是要确保他们得到适当的奖励-通过认可，尊重，支持，建立信任，满意，同志甚至乐趣。该书将公民科学描述为“回答问题和教育公众的有力方法”，这无疑是，但它必须是一种参与性的方法，学者们也要从业余爱好者那里学习。

这种有偏见的方法例如在关于公民科学历史的第2章中有所体现，其中作者将约翰·雷（John Ray）和卡尔·林奈（Carl Linnaeus）描绘为“未经训练的科学家”。实际上，他们是受过自学训练的科学家，与对本书有贡献的大多数专业学者相比，他们对工作的看法可能更广阔。本章的作者确实认识到，许多生态学上最重要且应用最广泛的数据集，如物候学，鸟类繁殖，鸟类迁徙，种群动态等等，都来自我称之为公众参与计划的项目，如果您坚持的话，就是公民科学项目。他们勉强承认“合理或很好地记录了数量惊人的历史公民科学数据集，其中包括高质量的数据。

第4章考虑了项目规划和设计。作者提供了与任何科学项目相关的合理建议，而不是专门针对那些有志愿人员投入的项目量身定制。但是，过于复杂的图显示了设计和实施公民科学项目的拟议框架（图4.1），明显地背叛了本书的主要缺点。它绝不建议让志愿者参与如何获得安全，生产性，支持性和奖励性条件的意见，以帮助他们最有效地为该项目做出贡献。

令人震惊的是，在关于道德的一章中，它建议“志愿者在某些方面充当现场技术人员或科学家，参与数据收集（等）…在其他方面，志愿者充当研究对象。” 第二种选择可能包括调查测量员是单独工作还是成对工作，这是项目改进的有效部分。但是，下一章指出：“许多公民科学计划通常希望实现的目标是促进志愿者的知觉或行为改变。” 如果这是目标，那么在我看来，这不再是一项公民科学项目，而是一项社会科学实验。在我看来，志愿者捐出这么多宝贵的时间而没有明确告知他们是该项目的主题，而不是该项目的助手，这是非常不道德的。

伦理章节还指出，在研究生命周期的第二阶段，“试行和完善了数据收集和质量评估的协议，有时与志愿者一起进行了试验”（强调）。也许志愿者没有自动且始终如一地参与项目改进的事实恰恰恰恰是为什么，正如第120页所报道的那样，“很少有志愿者收集的数据能够进入决策论坛。” 在一个计划不周的项目中，“参与者最终将数据发送到黑匣子，并可能失去参与的动力。”

公平地讲，这本书定期地提出了向志愿者提供反馈和鼓励，提供支持和确保认可的方法，但是这表明经验丰富的公民科学家并没有做出任何贡献。第11章报道了一位热心的业余科学家，他最近在同行评审的期刊上发表了20年对帝王蝶（Danaus plexippus）的观察结果，并指出，这显然是“她在没有专业合著者的情况下完成的一项壮举。” 类似的学术精英风潮遍及整本书。为什么在地球上没有邀请那位女士提供这本书的一章？她听起来是业余科学的真正拥护者。

在第三部分中，从事特定公民科学项目的作者汇报了他们的经验，这是非常有用和令人鼓舞的。有人描述了城市生态中心，该中心源于邻里为打击犯罪和振兴威斯康星州密尔沃基市一个被忽视的绿色空间而做出的努力。它认识到，“创建和加强社区和家庭意识”对于从事该项目的人们至关重要。另一人审查了加利福尼亚的一个礁石监测项目，就像没有业余海洋生物学家的熟练潜水员的参与一样，对海洋环境进行如此多的监测是不可能的。

最鼓舞人心的一章是唯一摆脱美国限制的一章：一个使土著社区参与巴西亚马逊地区保护区生物多样性监测的项目。在这里，当地社区从社区中提名一个人作为其“土著农林业代理人”，由国家支付费用（不是通常的自愿意义上的公民科学项目）。社区决定只监视被猎捕的物种，因为它们与它们的生存最相关，他们坚持认为所有产生的纸质记录应保留在当地供社区使用，因为它们具有真正的数据所有权意识。仅向协调该项目的非政府组织提供了电子副本，并且必须将这些副本产生的调查结果提供给社区。

总体而言，我只能将本书的最后三分之一推荐给那些寻求支持自己的公民科学项目的见识的美国以外的人。但是，请有远见的出版商委托这本书的续集，由这些项目的真正英雄们-参与者自己编写。这应该为学者提供有关如何使项目志愿者参与项目设计的第一手指导，以便从这些志愿者为公民科学贡献的巨大热情，洞察力，奉献精神，本地知识和专业知识中获得最大的收益。