Scraping crowd-sourced shake reports to produce a cumulative shake map for Oklahoma earthquakes

Last year, Oklahoma had more earthquakes than ever before. In 2015, the Oklahoma Geological Survey (OGS) counted 5,691 earthquakes[1] centered in the state. That’s 270 more quakes than what Oklahoma experienced in 2014.

Along with more reports of earthquakes, came more reports of earthquake damage[2]. In one of the worst earthquake swarms in 2015, a chimney was torn from a house in Edmond[3], and an exterior wall of bricks came tumbling down from an apartment complex in northeast Oklahoma City[4]. Much has been learned since Oklahoma's earthquake surge began in 2009. 

Scientists now link these earthquakes to the injection of waste water into deep disposal wells[5]. Water exists naturally in the earth along with oil and gas deposits, and when the oil and gas is drawn from the earth, the water comes with it. This water is separated from the oil and gas, and is disposed of in deep wells. Because these quakes are caused by human activities, they are known as “induced earthquakes.”[6]

Many questions remain, however. Namely, what are the long-term effects of having so many small earthquakes so frequently? And how is it possible to compare the impact of these quakes across Oklahoma? The United States Geological Survey produces damage estimates automatically after significant earthquakes, but it does not produce damage estimates for swarms of smaller earthquakes, which may last for months or years.

Climbing a virtual mountain, Cesium, and other big life moments

Much has happened since my last update, but I'll keep it simple. Last August, my lovely wife finished her awesome dissertation on the roots and development of toxic discourse in science fiction. With her PhD and job offer in hand, we left the University of Illinois for Oklahoma City (Urbana we will always love you).

Initially, I kept working remotely for the National Science Foundation grant, EnLiST, continuing the analysis of our teaching and learning network data and helping UIUC faculty plan for future grants. Eventually I did hit the job market, and became the instructional technologist for the Center for Learning and Teaching at Oklahoma City Community College.

What does that mean? Basically, it means making sure the college stays up-to-date with technological change. Some days this means helping faculty with changes in our learning management system (LMS). Other days, it means building 3D models, visualizations, and applications for learning (such as this digital mountain).

Missed target, found hooliganism on drone mapping mission

A small unmanned aircraft system for mapping, developed for a National Science Foundation grant to improve STEM education.

In north Louisiana, there’s a fantastic little place known for Muscadine grapes, pecans, and on occasion, alligators.

Muscadines always get turned into jelly; an excellent topping for southern-style biscuits (my wife says she’s still working on mastering the family biscuit recipe, but she’s produced the finest biscuits I’ve ever had the pleasure of eating).

Pecans, a grocery bag of which could fetch a gold bar by northern exchange rates, are so plentiful that they must be given away. They’re so much a part of my wife’s heritage that we decided to get married beneath those pecan trees.

And when the water is high in the backyard bayou, a small alligator sometimes will make itself at home. If the alligator is lovingly cared for and becomes fat, a portion of that alligator eventually will make its way to our dinner table in the form of a delightful alligator sauce piquant (wife insists that it be cooked like shrimp, and not burnt to a crisp as it’s done here in the North).

So before we went down to visit my wife’s family farm for Thanksgiving, I decided to pack up one of the “drones” I’ve developed at the National Science Foundation grant where I work, to see if I couldn’t map out this interesting place.