When I set out to do fieldwork in rural Ceará, I believed careful planning would be the key to success. My task seemed clear on paper: dig sixty holes, each one meter deep, across a sandy experimental field and collect soil samples at four different depths beneath each tree. I planned my approach, calculated the order of sampling, and made lists of tools and materials, all while keeping an eye on my tight budget. At that point, I thought the hardest part would be the digging itself.
Reality was different. Fieldwork in Brazil, as I quickly discovered, is not a checklist to follow. It is a series of unexpected negotiations with the land, climate, people around you, and your own limits. The first day set the tone. My plan was to work through the trees in strict order: treatment one, repetition one, treatment two, repetition two, and so forth. In theory, this would make my data collection tidy and systematic. In practice, it meant trekking across a wide, sun-blasted field, often from one far corner to the next, under thirty-six-degree heat. With each trip, my energy dropped and my pace slowed. At the end of a long day, after a two-hour drive each way, I managed to finish sampling just three trees.
It was a humbling start. I realized my approach, though logical on paper, was too rigid for the messy reality of the field. The distribution of trees, the heat, and the time lost walking back and forth made it impossible to stay efficient. It became clear that my initial plan needed to be a starting point, not a set of rules.
I started making changes after each field visit. I decided to sample trees that were close to each other, grouping my work by location rather than strict treatment order. This small shift immediately reduced wasted time and energy. To prevent any chance of mixing up samples, I marked each plastic bag twice, then put them into a larger, clearly labeled bag. This system meant that even on the hottest, most exhausting days, my data stayed organized. After a few rounds of adjustments, I was able to finish sampling eight trees in a single day, more than double my original pace.
Suprizes
Fieldwork, however, brings surprises beyond logistics. Some days, the challenges were physical. The soil in the dry season was so hard beyond seventy centimeters that my shovel sometimes bounced off it like rock. Adding water to soften the ground became a necessary trick. I also learned that the field’s edges, exposed to the sun, dried out faster and were even tougher to dig. Some trees had roots that made progress slow, while others were set in softer ground. Each spot required its own strategy, sometimes improvising with available tools, sometimes just relying on patience and persistence.
On other days, setbacks came from unexpected directions. Once, the car broke down halfway to the site, forcing me to reschedule and reshuffle all my plans. On another occasion, a swarm of bees made part of the field temporarily off-limits. Helpers who were supposed to assist sometimes failed to show up. These moments made it clear that flexibility was more valuable than any carefully drawn timeline.
Yet the unpredictability of fieldwork was not always a challenge. There were small, memorable moments of kindness that made a difference. Sometimes an employee would buy lunch and bring it to the field so I could keep working without losing time. On several days, colleagues arranged transport or lent a hand with the heaviest tasks. My supervisor, seeing I was struggling with separating soil particles, bought a sieve I needed to finish my work more efficiently. Even an occasional field assistant who joined for an hour could tip the balance on a tough day.
Reflecting back
Through all these ups and downs, I found that efficiency was less about strict discipline and more about learning to adapt quickly. Each day taught me something I couldn’t have predicted in advance. After every field visit, I looked for ways to improve: Could I bring more water? Is there a shortcut between sample points? Should I reorganize my supplies in the car to save time at the site? These small, constant improvements made a bigger difference than any original plan.
These lessons did not end at the edge of the experimental plot. I brought the same mindset back to the lab. Each day, I looked for ways to make lab work more efficient, organizing tools, preparing sample batches in advance, and fine-tuning routines. There are always steps you cannot rush, like the time root samples need to dry in the oven or the limited hours when equipment is available. But every small improvement, learned under the sun with a shovel, helped me do more in less time, even indoors.
I have noticed that people, myself included, often collect data or process samples the same way simply because that is how it has always been done. Fieldwork forced me to break that habit. By questioning my routines and looking for small ways to speed up each part of the process, I gradually increased how much I could accomplish in a single day, both in the field and in the lab.
Moving forward
Looking back, the main lesson I took from digging sixty holes in Brazilian sand was not just about soil, data, or scientific protocol. It was about process. Fieldwork rewards preparation but demands flexibility. The most valuable strategy is to start with a plan but remain ready to adapt, to treat every day as a chance to improve your method, and to pay attention to what the field itself is telling you. Progress happens when you let go of rigidity and choose to learn from the messiness on the ground.
If I could give advice to anyone starting their own fieldwork, whether in Brazil or elsewhere, it would be this: make a careful plan, but treat it as a draft. Expect things to go differently than imagined. After each field day, take a moment to reflect and ask what could go smoother, then don’t be afraid to change your approach. Real progress comes from listening to the field, working with the people around you, and making one small improvement at a time.
Digging holes for science taught me more than any classroom about resilience, adaptation, and the real meaning of efficient work. The best results come not from stubbornly sticking to the first plan, but from the willingness to change and improve with every challenge the field throws at you.