Dung beetles, the coprophagous members of the subfamilies Scarabaeinae, Geotrupinae, and Aphodiinae, are among the most ecologically significant yet underappreciated insects in terrestrial ecosystems. Through the burial of dung, they recycle nutrients, improve soil structure, disperse seeds, and suppress parasite populations that would otherwise build up around vertebrate droppings. They are also exceptionally sensitive to environmental change, which makes them reliable bioindicators for monitoring habitat disturbance and climate impacts. Despite these services, conservation attention for dung beetles and many other insect groups remains strikingly low compared with charismatic vertebrates. The Oaxaca project set out to address this gap at multiple levels: describing new species, mapping ecological niches, modeling how distributions might shift under climate change, and building the complementary community data needed to understand these insects across a complex mountainous landscape.

Oaxaca presents a distinctive institutional challenge for field biologists. Most of the land is communally owned by Indigenous communities, which means that access cannot be obtained through the standardized permit applications, institutional affiliations, and predefined research guidelines that govern work in federally administered Natural Protected Areas. Instead, researchers must present their proposals formally to local authorities, engage in dialogue, and secure permission through trust and respect. The team describes how this process, while less predictable than bureaucratic permitting, creates something the regulatory route rarely does: a personal, long-term relationship between researchers and the people who live with the biodiversity being studied. The researchers also committed to delivering results back to the communities, a promise that shaped the entire architecture of the project and ultimately produced the outreach collections at the heart of the new paper.

The depth of local knowledge became apparent early. In a first meeting with the comisariado, the community authority, the researchers encountered an encyclopedic command of the natural history of the sacred mountain Zempoaltépetl, so extensive that it prompted reflection on what science might still be missing. In informal conversations, community members explained how they read environmental cues, such as the presence or behavior of particular animals, to time the planting and growing of food. These encounters convinced the team to integrate Traditional Ecological Knowledge and Local Ecological Knowledge, known as TEK and LEK, into the research design rather than simply extracting data. TEK and LEK represent generations of accumulated understanding of ecosystems, species, and natural processes, and they are woven into cosmovisions, practices, and language. The researchers framed their work explicitly as co-learning, aiming for mutual education rather than a one-directional transfer of facts.

The methodology behind the outreach collections was meticulous. All specimens collected during standardized surveys in mountain regions including San Pablo Etla, Santa María Tlahuitoltepec, San José del Pacífico, San Esteban Río Hondo, San Esteban Atatlahuca, Huajuapan de León, and San Luis Amatlán were brought to the laboratory at Instituto de Ecología A.C. in Xalapa, Veracruz, where they were pinned and identified to species level. Representative specimens from each site were then curated into outreach collections, labeled with full location and date data like any scientific specimen, but with an added layer: local names and contextual information designed to engage the communities where the insects were found. The remaining vouchers were deposited in major institutional collections in Mexico, Canada, and Brazil, ensuring the scientific record remained intact while the outreach materials traveled a different path.

In workshops, three kinds of drawers were deployed. The first showcased the most recognizable insect orders and families, including butterflies and moths, bees, dragonflies and damselflies, mantises, and scarab beetles, giving participants familiar anchors before the material turned specialized. The second and third focused on dung beetles at the state and local levels respectively, allowing participants to see both regional diversity and the species living on their own land. Digital graphics, infographics featuring newly described species, and a series of six posters on dung beetle ecology supplemented the physical specimens. The format was deliberately interactive: researchers shared information about reproductive biology, ecosystem services, taxonomy, and curation, then asked attendees about common names, habitats, diets, and seasonal patterns, treating community members as experts in their own right rather than as an audience.

The linguistic findings illustrate why this exchange matters scientifically. In Tu’un Savi, the Mixtec language, dung beetles are called timirru shini ti yivi; in Ayuujk, the Mixe language, tsëkë ti’ny yumpë. Both names describe the action of pushing or carrying a ball of dung with the head, a precise behavioral observation embedded in the vocabulary itself. In Didze, the Zapotec language, no specific term for dung beetles emerged, but the word mingut refers generically to members of Scarabaeoidea. Horned beetles are often named toritos, little bulls, a category that can span several beetle families. Communities consistently associated dung beetles with the rainy season and forested areas and knew their burial behavior, while tunnel construction and larval stages were less familiar. Notably, the researchers found no evidence that dung beetles hold sacred or cultural significance in these communities, likely because, unlike fungi or agave, they are not a managed or used resource. Documenting these names required care: behavioral explanations of dung feeding proved essential for accurate identification, since verbal descriptions or pinned specimens alone often led to misidentifications, and community members verified spellings and translations to ensure respectful, accurate representation.

The outcomes extended well beyond nomenclature. Each community received a reference collection for its local library, along with posters, brochures, and educational materials, ensuring the knowledge remained accessible after the researchers left. Hands-on workshops for undergraduate students covered specimen preparation and species identification, and the team participated in local events ranging from a regional identity forum to a mushroom fair and a community assembly. Local teachers observed that students gained knowledge not typically covered in school curricula. An open communication channel through email and WhatsApp has persisted: students and teachers send photographs of insects and arachnids for identification, high school students ask about universities and scholarships, and community members request advice on land management, medicinal plants, and pest control. Community members also showed strong interest in recording species found on their lands, producing local checklists that remain in community libraries.

The researchers are candid about the challenges. Building trust takes time, which sits uneasily with academic pressures to publish and meet deadlines. Communities may deny access to their territories, local customs may make scheduling difficult, and researchers must adapt to the community’s agenda rather than the reverse, accepting that some objectives requiring broad participation may not be achieved. When no mutually beneficial agreement can be reached, the team insists, researchers must respect that decision and never enter a territory without explicit permission. The study also acknowledges the cultural and spiritual significance of sacred sites, which must be recognized as part of any access agreement. These constraints are presented not as obstacles to science but as conditions for doing it well in communally owned landscapes.

The broader lesson is one the authors hope will spread through biodiversity research generally. Outreach collections, they argue, are more than educational tools; they are shared spaces where scientific and cultural knowledge meet on equal terms. By integrating TEK and LEK into ecological research and respecting the agency of Indigenous communities, collections that once sat behind museum glass become connectors, strengthening the link between research and the people who steward the land it depends on. For a field facing an insect biodiversity crisis and shrinking public trust, the Oaxaca model offers a concrete, replicable template: rigorous taxonomy and community reciprocity are not competing priorities but mutually reinforcing ones, and the future of ecological science may depend on practicing both at once.

Subject of Research: Community-based entomological outreach integrating Traditional Ecological Knowledge with dung beetle research in Oaxaca, Mexico

Article Title: From collections to connections: empowering communities through entomological outreach

Article References: Cruz-García, B. J., Sandoval, O., Cruz-García, E. J., Escobar-Hernández, F., & Arriaga-Jiménez, A. (2025). From collections to connections: empowering communities through entomological outreach. Natural History Collections and Museomics, 2, 1-12. https://doi.org/10.3897/nhcm.2.147417

Image Credits: AI Generated

DOI: 10.3897/nhcm.2.147417

Keywords: dung beetles, entomology, Oaxaca, Indigenous knowledge, Traditional Ecological Knowledge, outreach collections, knowledge exchange, biodiversity conservation, community engagement, science communication, Mexico, ethnobiology