Dispatches from Auntie Tini

Hit & Run

2011-05-17T17:40:00.000-07:00

I officially have my first year of school down the hatch! That means there are less prerequisites waiting for me in my second and final year, and more challenging, interesting courses to look forward to.

Though it’s been a full-on semester but I’ve managed a distraction or two. I’ve been hiking, biking, hunting for snakes/salamanders/frogs, wine tasting, road tripping, and rooting around for temperature loggers on Texas horned lizards. I learned how to rock climb, and fish for blue gill and crappie; had a date with a fiddler and a Scottish folk singer in St. Louis, and discovered the fine pleasures of bourbon.

On finding morel-looking mushrooms in the yard, I invited some friends over for an impromptu potluck, and checked in with everyone the next morn to make sure we all made it through the night. I hit two new states – Oklahoma and Arkansas – (twice!) and experienced waking up to an all-too-perky bugle playing Reverie…I don’t recommend it.

I’ve skinned, stuffed and pinned almost a dozen rodents, and warmed up my bike and sneakers. And just like that, it’s time. Summer’s here and I’m once again in my midyear playground in the foothills of the Rockies for three months of romping with rodents. Bliss…

Life’s Rules

2011-03-04T19:08:00.000-08:00

So while I was in bed the other night, listening to the tornado sirens going off and vaguely considering getting out of bed – I decided instead to snuggle deeper under the covers for protection against glass should the window go – I wondered why this semester seems so different from the last. I’m unmotivated, undisturbed at the prospect of ‘Bs’ and actually asked for an extension on a paper because I waited till the last-minute and was embarrassed to turn it in without further refinements.

I’ve become a slacker, albeit a selective one. I’m still working and volunteering many hours weekly, and I interviewed and finalized my summer crew with 2+ months to spare. I made a concerted effort to find more balance in my life but only succeeded in cutting into my sleep time. Could it be that I’m already burned out after just 1.5 semesters in? I still have over a year to go … and that’s just for this degree!

After all my ups and downs this past year, I jointly developed a two-part rule with a dear friend as a possible guide in dealing with life’s blows. The rules were meant to keep us from becoming cynical about life, though at first glance, it might appear that we already are.

Rule #1a: Expect less from yourself

I often set up ridiculously high expectations for myself and am disappointed on a fairly regular basis. But these are standards I would never impose on anyone else, because these expectations are mildly retarded. I know this when I sit back and evaluate with a clear-ish mind. It’s possible that I set myself up to fail because I expect myself to. When I’m feeling cavalier, I’d claim to want to push my limits to see what I’m made of. More likely though, I prefer to stress myself out in trying to attain impossible goals, so I don’t have to deal with other things in my life gone awry. In the process, I have found that I am still capable of surprising myself every now and then. I like that. I hope I continue to be unexpected, undefined and un-box-able.

Rule #1b: Expect less from others

Today, this rule took on a new meaning and a new low. I am deeply disappointed, but not surprised. Hurt but not morose. Angry but not petulant. Sometimes, people suck. If being a good friend comes at a high expense to yourself, find new friends.

It’s time to clean house. It is Spring after all. The daffodils are blooming, and life is calling out for some company.

Shoganai …It can’t be helped (or can it?)

2011-01-20T18:55:00.000-08:00

Loneliness strikes when you least expect it to. Or perhaps, I should have been more mindful. After three weeks with family and dear friends traveling and gallivanting across Asia, ordinary life in the Midwest seems just a little bit empty, one-dimensional and yep, a little lonely.

Still … I was always proud to say that I didn’t mind my own company. And yet at this moment, I’m finding my company lacking and quite frankly, a little dull.

I’m still busy as a bee, and feeling trepidation about my over-planned weekly schedule. Between school, work, volunteer gigs, side projects, prepping for my summer field season, and the nagging minor matter of my GREs, technically, I should be too damn busy to think!

But think I do, and mull and ponder also. I think I sometimes miss a life that doesn’t revolve around me. Where everything that happens, happens because I make it so, and decide to do it. A life derailed because of circumstance, chance events, weather, or an unexpected phone call. I miss the chaos of life that I see in others.

My life is ridiculously regimented, in no small part, because I make it so. I feel more efficient and productive when I am able to tick things off my list. I have scheduled down to the number of hours that I will work, study, run; the number of times a week I can watch a movie (once); what day of the week I can cook for the following week, etc.

All this scheduling has made me yearn all the more for the impishness of life and its unexpected moments of complete turmoil.

My first week in Malaysia recently was marked by a remarkable series of events: a ridiculous extravagance of seafood, killing my first roach in years (after all the wildlife I have done, amazingly I haven’t lost my squeamishness for roaches!), stung by a jellyfish (with scars to prove it), and collecting buckets of water for an almost island-wide disruption of our greatest natural resource.

For three weeks in Asia, I lived outside my life and found it to be good. Now I just need to figure out how to regularly schedule an occasional event of pandemonium, and I’d be in fine shape. I’d feel alive again: less robotic, less put-together, less perfect.

Or maybe I just need to do less, be less, and be ok with that.

2010

2010-12-28T23:10:00.000-08:00

This year I gave up my full-time field technician wanderings, and gave in to full-time sessile student life. I summered out west in Colorado, backpacked, rafted and hiked many a summer day away. It was the year I fell in love and had my heart broken in two; the year I closed a bittersweet chapter of my life in Gotham.

It’s the year I got stupid, soft and vulnerable; the year I wanted to hit the next person who told me I was a “strong woman.” It was the year I returned to woodcarving. And decided that if I wanted better abs, I needed to work at it. I started baking and discovered black walnut ice cream in 2010. I also started running seriously – no mere coincidence I’m sure.

I had something to prove to myself this year, namely, that it is possible to teach an old dog like me new tricks. I got through my first semester back in academia after a 13-year hiatus, and did much better than I could have hoped.

2010 is the year I moved back into a house for the first time since ‘97, and bought a bike, my first since a teen. I also decided I deserved a queen-size bed. And found a kindly Malaysian man in the Midwest who sourced for me a granite mortar and pestle, just like the one I used in my mother’s kitchen growing up.

I meshed my rugged outdoorsy side with a softer more feminine side that’s been shelved for a couple of years, when my dresses, skirts, bags and shoes were dusted off storage and back within arms reach. I suited up for Halloween, quite literally, donning a pinstriped business suit for the first time in 3+ years as my disguise of a past life. This year I found new friendships and forged older ones. I started collecting books again, and framing artwork.

Ahhh, the accumulation of material goods. A sign of roots, surely? But perhaps these roots are just as deep as my herb garden… a seasonal passion, a step in mid-air till it’s time to skip on by.

Work

2010-11-17T17:40:00.000-08:00

Where else but in school would anyone entrust me with an ant project, and now a waterfowl gig. Last week I couldn’t have picked out a mallard from a wood duck and now I know at least 12 species by sight, and working my way through another half dozen. My new job involves me trying to make a dent in identifying some 20K duck wings in the next couple of months. The ducks are stored in a walk-in freezer where garbage bags upon garbage bags are piled high. And then there’s me frantically sorting, data entering and identifying duck wings, because I have taken this to be a personal challenge of sorts to somehow make a stinkin’ dent! But new bags arrive every week, so the battle hasn’t been in my favor thus far. Ironically, I’m considered a “lab assistant,” which brings to mind images of a sterile lab coat environment. Instead, I’m holed up in a former kennel, downwind from a body farm where pig carcasses ferment, sorting hundreds of envelopes, which I’m sure to check with a quick shake before opening. If it rattles, then open with care, because the shooter waited a tad long before mailing the wing, which now resides together with some frozen maggots, that scatter if you’re not careful.

I’m digging my new job.

Life as an undergraduate, amateur entomologist, home renter & volunteer trapper

2010-10-05T17:46:00.000-07:00

I am home alone for about 10 days, so I proceed to lock myself out of the house and break my housemate’s blender. In a single day. I have also indulged in some guilty pleasures, namely frying belacan in my home – my first time since moving to the States – and boy, it was so good! And I still have a week to air out the house and remove all olfactory evidence.

When I’m not reveling in the wonders of having a kitchen again, I spend hours trying to identify hundreds of ants. I dump out vials of ethanol, filled with ants and chunks of peanut butter, and count and rinse the ants off with a harsh squirt of ethanol. Under the dissection scope, I clean up more goop with a metal prod and tweezers, and then the fun begins.

Petiole scale? Check. Spiked propodeum? Check. Acidopore? Nope. 3-club antennal segment? Check. And so it goes until I think I know what I have.

The ant expert came in last week and basically, I found out that I know squat, and I’m going to have to re-identify the samples I’ve completed. But I’ve since had a breakthrough and can now successfully i.d. four genera with no more than a quick glance. I just have three more to master, and then it’s on to the good stuff: trying to identify ants from partially ingested body parts in Texas horned lizard scat.

Just for kicks, once a week I go small mammal trapping, where I caught my first golden mouse and a couple of shrews.

And then, when I’ve run out of all other classroom distractions, I sit my arse down and study. School’s going well … ho-hum.

Fall Semester, Week #1

2010-08-28T13:02:00.000-07:00

I have gone through a gamut of emotions this week, starting with wide-eyed terror (assessment test?!), confusion (iClicker thingamajig), annoyance (am I really going to have to fill up all these damn circles for my FULL name on every single Scantron test??), and a mild fit of depression (assessment test…sigh).

There’s also been a fair bit of excitement, mostly focused on developments outside the classroom. The house is looking great and I have a kickass bike! I slowed down my pace, and am running so much better (thank you, Simon). I walked to the farmers market today (and last Saturday), and expect to be mortared-and-pesteled by the morning.

I’ve managed to accumulate a fair bit of stuff just in the last week -- how does that happen? -- desk, dresser, old schoolhouse desk top with missing legs, dismantled church pew, three chairs, two tables, bench, side table, hollowed out stereo, blinds, and a patio swing. [Yay estate/yard sales, flea market and abandoned furniture in condemned building.] Is it inevitable? Every time we stay in one place for any amount of time, do we always end up hoarding and collecting craploads of stuff? And I have projects – things I need to fix up and paint around the house. Unbelievable.

Somebody smack me if I start singing along to Joe Walsh’s “Average, Ordinary Guy.”

Bye, bye Vagabonding Days

2010-08-13T10:08:00.000-07:00

It’s only fitting that my field jeans, summer field pants, work boots, and socks are all falling part. Word is out that this is my last season as a full-time field hand. I have my trunk packed, I’m stocked and stoked from CO microbrews, my house keys arrived in the mail, and I will soon give up keys to my storage locker.

It’s time for a more ordinary, mundane, predictable existence. Classes, fixed schedules, part-time job, and life as a student in the Midwest. It’s all vaguely familiar.

I’ve manufactured quite the send off to my wandering days, with a last-minute backpacking trip squeezed in on my final break, and a 3,000-mile roadtrip in my sights. Since I start my journey on Friday, the 13th, I thought it appropriate to christen my drive with an audiobook of Stephen King’s Misery. I hope to tune in while driving through my favorite state of Kansas … quickly, efficiently, and preferably, with no memory of the experience whatsoever.

Inevitably as I wind down, I find myself a little wound up, reflective and nostalgic. The question that’s been plaguing me of late is this: Have I sufficiently engaged in my life in the last 2+ years?

I know I’ve been lucky to have had this time. A time of unfettered travel, a time where I start a new life with a new job at a new place meeting new people for a few months at a time, a couple of times a year. With each field season, I’ve packed up my life and car and relocated, resettled and started anew. I’ve learned that for some people, I am willing to drive thousands of miles for a project even if all the elements are not yet in place and the details are sketchy and I have no where to live.

I have learned that I have lost not an ounce of my intensity when it comes to my work. I’ve seen myself grow professionally, making new connections and strengthening others, while coming a little closer to deciding what I want to be when I decide to grow up

I did take care of myself this summer. Yeah … I took good care of myself this summer. I pushed hard, and worked off a fair amount of angst, anxiety and stress. I lost weight. I gave up sleep. I indulged in ice cream, chocolate and giant cinnamon rolls. I made time for me.

I finally gave myself a rightful place in my own life.

Life Aloft

2010-07-17T12:59:00.000-07:00

During a summer spent between 6,000 – 12,000 feet, I learned that:

1. Woodrats and voles die when left in traps through the night
2. It takes twice as long to rehydrate backpacking meals at higher elevations (duh!)
3. Cooler, crisper air attracts gas-guzzling, RV-idling crowds, seeking cooler, crisper air
4. Layering is the way of life
5. Time elongates and stretches in open natural places and distances seem further … key elements for gaining perspective and clearing the mind
6. Allergies do not improve at this altitude
7. I still run like crap (at two months in, I think I’ve worn out the ‘adjusting to the altitude’ excuse)
8. I get sunburned
9. Roadkill consist of marmots, elk and the occasional moose
10. I run my life independently and semi-proficiently, with little outside interference …

… enjoy it, honey, ‘cos it’s all coming to an end

Me & Time

2010-07-07T17:42:00.001-07:00

So it occurred to me over the weekend, as I was actively engaged in watching ice melt, that a lot of the underlying stress I am feeling about the upcoming Fall 2010, when … in my head, anyway …I am making this HUGE, drastic change in my life, is based on the notion that I am not at my personal best. And I’ve been trying to take and make the time, albeit not very successfully, to try and sort out a fair amount of baggage and angst from earlier this year, that so threw off me off kilter.

But some things can’t be rushed. Some things are done, when they’re done.

It’s a nice idea to start my next phase in life back in school at the top of my game. But truthfully, how often are we really at our very best? For the most part, we’re shuffling between our best and our worst, hopefully edging ourselves more towards one end of the spectrum over the other.

I’ve had more highs than lows in my life; I’ve been at my best more often than my worst. And if I can maintain that balance, maybe that’s okay for the time being. Until this magical thing called “time” does its thing and everything is alright again.

Time sure likes taking its bloody time though…

Who’s on First?

2010-07-03T19:47:00.001-07:00

Julie: “I know you’re worried about your woodrats. I’m more worried about getting mauled by a mountain lion.”

Hmmm… perhaps my priorities are sometimes skewed. Like this morning when I had to save my flea-infested woodrat in the NW corner from a four-foot rattlesnake, which was none to happy with my interference. The feeling was mutual. He was quite a beauty though, at least as much as I could appreciate it after I had a chance to stuff my heart back in place, and calm the thudding in my chest.

Work has always been my #1 priority in life. Then there’s school, which is also up there. Family, friends, and loved ones factor in as well. And more recently, a renewed commitment to edge myself upwards too.

So these days, it’s getting awfully crowded and top-heavy. Each aspect of my life jostles for top billing while I stubbornly refuse to prioritize and try and do it all. It’s no wonder I’m feeling exhausted, worn out and very ready for a break.

I’ve had five hours sleep in the last 48 hours and my campground is overrun with holiday revelers. For once, I am prioritizing one aspect of my life above all others. The next three days are mine: I am bear-canistered and pepper-sprayed.

My time begins in the morning. Good night.

Breakfast of Champions

2010-07-02T15:58:00.000-07:00

I have a diet of an undergraduate squirrel, except with good quality Korean ramen. When I wake up – not in the morning – but the second time – quite definitely in the afternoon – I help myself to a large bowl of black walnut ice cream. It’s a Midwestern thing (the flavour that is, not the habit of waking up to a bowl of ice cream).

When I wake up the first time, just pre-dawn, it’s dark, strong, bitter coffee with a dash of milk. And some hurried bites from a granola bar in between Shermans. A good amount of trail mix is consumed on drives between the trailer and study site.

I’m down to one sit-down meal: dinner. I have enough single-serving frozen meals to last me a good two weeks. And I’ve been happily harvesting the bounty of the summer: melons, cherries, nectarines, white peaches, etc.

Copious amounts of tea – Chinese and black tea, sometimes sweetened – is consumed throughout the day, and a cupful when I wake up the third time, just prior to the midnight shift.

So let me rephrase my previous statement: I have a diet of an undergraduate squirrel, with a proclivity for iced tea, fresh fruit and Midwestern desserts. And only good quality Korean ramen.

Sleep-Deprived Mutterings

2010-06-21T22:22:00.001-07:00

Our first 10-night trapping run is kicking my ass. 4-5 hours of sleep each morning is starting to catch up. It’s all I can do to keep up with data (never mind data checking), and trapping needs and preparation.

The fact that I doubled my Shermans in the last three days may have something to do with the sheer fatigue I’m battling at the moment; or perhaps it’s the telemetry project I volunteered for that is about to take over my afternoons.

Voles, bleepin’ voles. If they are out there, I will find them, track them down, trap them and vaccinate them. Now it’s entirely possible that they have been plagued out – this is a plague study after all – but I don’t actually know that. So I proceed as if I’m missing some magical formula that will miraculously materialize voles before me. Hence I’m trapping at 6 plots consecutively with 120 Shermans. And no, of course I haven’t stopped trapping my woodrats.

Where are you, my measly, mean-tempered Microtus munchkins?

< Pause >

2010-06-07T19:15:00.001-07:00

Flood warning, tornado watch and severe thunderstorms: guess it’s time for a break.

In 14 trapping nights, we’ve caught 60+ individual woodrats. Not too shabby. We have vaccine arriving in a few days, and hopefully, the transponders will begin working too so we can start pit tagging, because trying to read tiny ear tags via headlamp is not advisable for a pair of 30-something-year-old eyes.

Vole trapping has a taken a bit of a back seat but is about to hit center stage pronto. It seems every time I reach some level of comfort, I throw myself neck-deep into something new.

Julie (volunteer) has been a welcome addition (note: she’s also a meat-loving, elk-hunting Texan mother of four, with a surprising fascination with my bone-crunching, cartilage-munching, marrow-sucking eating habits). She has been coping well considering I have been moving traps around on her almost daily. She started working on arrival, giving up the option of taking a day to adjust to the night schedule (bonus point #1), and then bare-handed a grab on a suddenly-awake, recently-anesthetized woodrat two nights ago (bonus point #2).

It *almost* feels like I know what I’m doing.

Stalked by Night

2010-06-01T14:59:00.000-07:00

There’s something slightly unnerving about a pair of widely spaced eyes, set high off the ground, following you around at night. But like so many things, it just takes a little getting used to. Ironically I was just listening an old “This American Life” from 2003, with the theme “Cat & Mouse” earlier in the evening, and here I was getting approached from behind by a rather ballsy elk, probably the buck that was following me around two days ago when I opened and baited my plots. It’d run off every time I turned around or move to my next trap. The game continued for about an hour before I suppose I bored it and it moved on. Just one hour…must be losing my touch out here in the boonies. Maybe an hour is equivalent to seven elk years or something.

It’s been a whole five days since my last fatality, so it looks like half-night trapping is here to stay. It hasn’t been too hard a transition, and working with live animals has the tendency to keep my spirits up. Although my chocolate intake hasn’t eased one bit. I just baked a couple of chocolate cakes, been cooking for three days, 200 crunches last night, and am about to head out for a run. It appears I’m still stressing about something, or everything.

My volunteer arrives tomorrow. I wonder what she’ll think about a freezer partially filled with dead critters, about getting stalked at night, about having to chase off the great horned owl that’s messing with traps, about starting work at midnight and wrapping up whenever we get done, about the photo of a ferret over a dead (and tagged!) juvie PD that I have tacked on the fridge. I know what she’ll say … I’ve asked. But just in case she’s being polite, I cooked a stew and baked a cake. And I’m keeping my fingers crossed that she’s not vegetarian.

She’s bringing a portable grill. Surely that isn’t for grilled veggies, right? Don’t they throw you out of Texas for being a vegetarian?

It’s time for my run…

Distinguished Living for the Privileged Few

2010-05-27T14:21:00.000-07:00

Centrally located on well-used runways, the SRhermans is the latest in modern Microtus living. The sleek metallic interior is spacious, secluded and lavishly appointed with warm wool bedding of the finest quality. A custom-built entrance keeps away undesirables, ensuring that only the most discerning voles will gain access to this lap of luxury. A generous petit four plate from the famed Trailer #2 Bakery awaits, serving up such scrumptious treats as sweet oats, peanut butter and juicy red delicious apples.

There’s nothing else like it! Drop by for an appointment tonight: we open at dusk. Woodrats need not apply.

The Return of Night Owl

2010-05-26T16:03:00.000-07:00

The best-laid plans look so good on paper. After a few days of solid overnight trapping, an unexpected fog and misting rain rolled in this morning and I lost two woodrats to hypothermia. It was the best trapping night so far – well over 30 woodrats in 60 traps. But the casualties are driving me to drink.

So the midnight shift it on, as soon as this next storm system passes on by. I’m a little excited actually. I’ve worked nights before spotlighting, but that’s a fair bit more passive than trapping by night. I’m always a bit dismayed that I haven’t had the chance to appreciate the gorgeous night sky since it’s bedtime at 10 PM, and it only gets dark around 9 PM. I wonder what else I’ll see … Coyotes? Bobcats? Anything bigger? Sweet!

Oh, and despite a previous claim on trapping a white-footed mouse, that’s a blatant lie. I have no idea what I caught. There are about a half dozen of so Peromyscus romping around this area. They all look like mice, have large ears, weigh very little, and come in enough color variations to drive me batty. BUT, I’m now positive, absolutely sure, and fervently certain, that a white-footed mouse is not what I caught.

Death by Scruffing

2010-05-21T21:05:00.000-07:00

There are small mammals and then, there are small mammals. The smallest juvenile PD I handled was 190 grams. The white-footed mouse that I accidentally killed today while ear tagging was 12.5 grams. Apparently, I scruffed it too hard and snapped its neck. I also resuscitated a juvenile woodrat back to life, and was squirted by breast milk by a lactating female. And then there was the vole that died under anesthesia, which led to my decision not to anesthetize anything smaller than a woodrat. I caught yet another vole, which upon hearing about my new rule, decided to be a pain in my a*** and landed a good solid bite on my right thumb. But the saddest tale for the day was the white-footed mouse, which triggered the Tomahawk trap at the entrance, and practically guillotined itself.

I am really, really, really hoping for an uneventful day of trapping tomorrow.

Life in Transition

2010-05-15T16:29:00.000-07:00

Monday: Study, study, study

Tuesday: Took two exams; packed up life; attended last class on nuclear chemistry.

Wednesday: Packed up car; moved queen-sized mattress and box springs down three flight of stairs; drove 8 hours to Kansas; stocked up at Trader's Joe's St. Louis; crashed on Brandon's couch; created data sheets and equipment list while watching Beetlejuice; also discovered River Monsters on Animal Planet.

Thursday: Drove 9 hours to Colorado; caught up with Dean on the project; crashed at Dave and Sam's place; watched the Simpsons and Antiques Roadshow; fell asleep while watching Wild Pacific.

Friday: Spent 8 hours sorting through gear, checking traps, making a check list of items; took a tour of CSU (including necropsy lab); nursed a nagging headache with 6 advils (cause: absolute and total lack of coffee + my stubbornness that the headache would eventually go away even though that has never, ever happened!) Crashed at Dave and Sam’s place and watched Ghostbusters while reading about Mexican woodrats.

Saturday (today): Toured study site; tramped around looking for den sites on rocky ledges and sticks nests among sumac shrubs; tested and stuffed cotton in Sherman traps; tested and wrapped burlap around Tomahawk traps; got stung by a wasp; set up tent – temporary home for next three nights; more than made up for recent caffeine deprivation; bought apples for vole bait and ate some; created a field guide with photos of every damn rodent I’m likely to catch in my traps.

Sunday (tomorrow): Let the trapping begin…

What have I done?

2010-05-07T15:20:00.000-07:00

More than a year ago, I swore, scoffed, and vehemently insisted that I would never do what I’ve signed myself up to do, that is, to return to school to get a second degree. And yet here I am registered for 16 credits this Fall. I’ve also signed a lease on a little 2-bedroom house for the academic year, I have a faculty advisor, and have made wild claims to two other professors, claiming I can handle their classes without my pre-requisites in place.

It’ll be time soon enough to put my money where my mouth is – both literally and figuratively.

But until that time, my goals for this summer are simple:

1. take care of myself
2. take care of myself
3. try not to contract plague, tularemia, hantavirus (i.e. take care of myself)

Closing the Curtain

2010-04-24T20:31:00.000-07:00

I just wrapped up my winter/spring 2010 field season. That’s my 5th field season in two years, with season #6 starting up in just a couple of weeks.

It’s been a bumpy ride. A few things in my life decided to collide over a span of 4+ months that turned me inside out and knocked me off my center. I’ve finally stopped whining. And beating myself up. I’m starting to uncurl from the tight ball I rolled up in, dust off, swallow hard and straighten my shoulders.

I’ve learned a few things about myself, namely: I’ve gotten soft. I’m more open and more inclined to let people in. My walls are nowhere near as thick as they’ve been. “Now these days are gone, I’m not so self-assured.” And yeah, I’ve needed help. I had to admit to myself that I couldn’t do it on my own.

There is a part of me that is hard to let go. It’s safe, familiar and keeps me from feeling too much. It’s gotten me through some tough trials in life. But it’s also made me hard, harsh and cold. I don’t like that side of me much. It scares me.

The current evolving version of me can be an emotional mess. It’s kinder though, and feels more honest. It cries more easily. It’s self-reflective. It feels.

All the more reason to take better care of myself.

Springing Back

2010-04-03T14:26:00.001-07:00

Temperatures have topped 80 degrees and I easily spend 6+ hours a day, 5 days a week, tramping around the woods. I’ve unpacked my summer field pants, skirts, tank tops and flip flops. I’ve pulled off two ticks, seen my first snake (prairie king snake?), and examined a leopard frog up close. For the first time in two years, I stepped back into a yoga studio; I found the Carbondale farmer’s market. I cooed a three-month-old to sleep and let a chocolate Labrador puppy gnaw on my fingers. I consumed a half-pound of bbq rib tips yesterday evening, and about as much chocolate over the last three days. I’ve gone from 4 to 5 hours of sleep a night, to about 6.5 hours. I just completed my last setup week, and I aced my midterms.

A good part of my life is going quite alright.

Taking Chances

2010-03-27T17:49:00.000-07:00

So many truisms, social rules and so-called sage advice call for prudence, conservatism, and “doing the proper thing.” It almost feels sometimes as if we function only for the greater good. Such lofty ideals are cold comfort when living a life of many shades of grey; when things are not cut-and-dry; when emotions spill out of their boxes.

In my lowest moments, I am tempted to step back, reign in, erect another wall, deflect, internalized, and to be fine!!

But mostly, what I want is just to be. To be blue when I am, be high when I am, be insecure, unsure of myself, feel foolish, frustrated, upset, confused, and not have to deal with all the guilt that comes with that baggage. To not listen to the voice in my head that goes: quit whining and pull yourself together! At least, not yet.

I like taking chances. But I haven’t always. After graduating from college, I set off to NYC to find a job, then to grow and develop professionally, then to build a career, then to get the most out of my career, then to find gratification in my work, then to find meaning in something outside my work, and finally, to find myself. I knew who I was but I wasn’t sure what I might become, or more specifically, what I’d dare become. So I stopped doing the proper thing, and set out to find what life held in store for me.

I like taking chances: in love, in life, in work, and in small day-to-day occasions. Like walking across a creek on a slippery wet log, or trying to scale down a mossy steep cliff wall only to abandon the attempt when the reality of a 50-foot drop set in.

Every now and again, I run into a brick wall, and it smarts. Every now and again, I have to come back the way I came, backtrack, take an alternative route, rethink, reassess, and occasionally, regret, despair and woefully admit that I don’t have my head screwed on right; that I am capable, even at the grand age of 33+, of acts of incredible stupidity.

And in my better moments, I can laugh at myself, knowing that the journey of self-discovery is a twisted labyrinth, holding many secrets, surprises, and who knows what else.

But I like taking chances. And even with all the dents, knocks, slaps and occasional closed-fist punches, I hope I never lose the chutzpah to keep on taking them.

Life Bits and Bites

2010-03-07T15:16:00.000-08:00

I found my first deer shed this week, and it’s a good one. Must be nice to shed parts of you that you don’t care for.

It’s the week of spring break and for once, I care. And for the first time in months, I feel like I can catch a breath. And catch up on a few things in life. Including things I don’t care for.

I actually dared to start a book again, my first for 2010. After a fantastic year of reading in 2009, I came to an almost complete standstill on that front, barely able to keep up with class readings and relevant scientific papers. It’s Gabriel Garcia Marquez’ “Love in the Time of Cholera,” one of the few books that upon picking it up for the first time, I read it cover-to-cover and started it over. It’s been years since and I don’t remember what moved me when I read it before.

I broke one of my rules and started collecting books again. I’ve been breaking a few rules that have served me well in life, and have suffered for it. But heck, at least I haven’t broken the “no skulls until you get furniture” rule. (PD skulls, bison hooves, rattlesnake skins and turtle shells don’t count).

I sometimes think southern Illinois has rubbed off on me more than I’d care to admit. I have my NYC license plates hanging on my wall and now, antlers?! I hope this is about as redneck as I get.

My brother-in-law used to say that after I left NYC, I had been “declassified,” i.e. fallen far, far from the classy lady I once was. I may not be a lady but I’m more woman now than ever before. I guess that’s okay.

Ouch

2010-03-01T18:58:00.001-08:00

I might need to keep my fist-waiving activities to a minimum this week. Feeling a little blue, a little bruised and a little broken down. Not broken, mind you, but some patching is in order, with some duct tape of time, self-reflective lube and multi-tool heart-afixing.

Bugger. Life strikes again…

In case you were wondering …

2010-02-23T19:06:00.000-08:00

I think I have this whole job and school thing down pat. We’re wrapping up our second session this week, and rapidly approaching our mid-field season waypoint on Friday. Surprisingly, I’m acing my chemistry class, and doing alright in Microbiology (exam results not out yet, so am chewing my fingernails in anticipation).

I have my routine down:

Morning: Work

Early afternoon (one or more of the following activities):
Work, study, homework, download data, run (if temps are above 40)

Late afternoon: Class

Evening (one or more of the following activities):
Study, homework, download data, abs and weights workout

No studying is allowed on Thursday and Friday evenings, and weekends are an all-out brawl of whatever needs to be done. This includes laundry, grocery shopping, swamp rabbit trapping, hiking, occasional movie, cleaning, more studying and homework, and work (as needed).

By the end of the week, I’m usually a little nostalgic for the good ol’ days of just work and data to fill my days. By the start of the week, I’m waving my fist at the sky and grunting “hit me!” And when I suffer a thump (there have been quite a few!), I take off running. Literally. I have a goal of a 5-6 mile loop to run continuously by May.

My life has changed drastically. And yet it’s just a precursor of the life to come. While juggling the now, there’s also a summer field job to confirm, college application and housing for the Fall to finalize, and random bits of life’s debris that has been raining steadily ever since I paused at one spot.

When I actually pause long enough to breath though, I’m not sure I would change a thing. There’s been more ups and downs than I imagined and some unexpectedly low moments in the last few months, but …

I’m doing it. I’m back in school and carving my way steadily towards grad school. I’m living a dream - my dream. What more can I ask for, right?

College Tuition: Paid

2010-01-10T17:53:00.000-08:00

Eeek … I’m committed. Even if I’m a commitment phobe.

General Microbiology and General, Organic & Biochemistry. Just saying those words gives me chills. And yes, I have started grinning when talking about going back to school. It’s beginning to feel like another adventure: my 2010 collision course with life.

Which is much preferable to the near head-on collision earlier this week with a UPS truck. I was parked and he was going “90 billion miles per hour” per Regina, volunteer for the day.

Things are going well, real well. I have 63 cameras out in the field, 17 new sites and three resamples for the month of January; 28 private landowners and seven public land sites spread out in six counties.

I’m fully moved in and settled. For the first time in my life, I have a giant queen-sized bed all to myself. And a dresser … my clothes are actually unpacked … and a desk! Well the dresser and desk came with the room, so did the bed actually. And I borrowed the chair, the lamp, the cooler a.k.a. bedside table. I’m paying rent and tuition in addition to monthly car payments. I’m feeling both like a grownup and a college kid again.

I’m been voted the woman of the house by my roommates, who guessed I was older and thought I was 25. Yeah, that didn’t make me feel old at all. But the woman of the house has her young ones recycling and drinking dry red wines. I’m still working on washing dirty dishes within 48 hours of use, and why a diet of ramen and hot dogs is vile.

Hopefully they were only joking when they suggested an “Ask Shantini” box outside my room, where they can ask me questions and advice. They might find out my secret that I’m still very much trying to get this life thing straight and have much to figure out myself.

Root-bound: Musings for a New Year

2010-01-01T16:25:00.000-08:00

For eight months now, I’ve had three keys on my keychain: my car keys and two keys to my storage locker in the Bronx. Last week, I added a P.O. Box key and as of this very morning, I have a key to my apartment. “My” is a slight exaggeration. I have my own room, but I’m sharing the flat with two others, one of whom goes by the nickname “da saluki cutie.” Have I mentioned I feel old?

I’m ever so slightly unnerved at having a semi-permanent address again. And I don’t think it’s just because that base is in Illinois. Actually that reminds me of a game I played over the summer, called “states that would be worse to live in than Kansas.” It was my lame attempt at making my Cambridge, MA-raised friend feel better about moving to podunk Kansas for grad school.

Illinois really isn’t half bad. And I can live almost anyway for a field season (even Kansas!), but Illinois for maybe 18 months, even with a summer break?

A friend recently said in passing that my anxiety about staying in one place for very long reflected perhaps a fear of commitment. Now that’s something I’ve heard often enough, though never leveled at me. And I have to admit, I’m more than a little bothered that it might be true.

There is a certain … danger? opportunity? … in finding yourself growing attached enough to a place and its people that you might start searching out reasons to stay just a little longer. And if that were to happen, does that mean I am losing focus on my goals and what I hope to achieve in the crucial couple of years coming up?

Of course, all it takes is a black panther conversation to remind myself that yep, this is most definitely temporary. Even if the temporal aspect of life in one place stretches and constricts in unexpected, rarely anticipated and efficiently chaotic ways.

For the time being, I’ll nurse my fleetingly adopted root-bound potted plant, and play it by ear.

I’m Baackk…

2009-12-28T06:51:00.001-08:00

Southern Illinois…hmmm, I always knew there was a chance I’d be back, but still, it’s a bit surreal to be back in Carbondale. It’s been seven months but feels like a year. At least.

People, friends and many, many familiar faces. And a fair number of new connections. I’ve made a fast friend with the French volunteer on the project, who’s become a cohort and a partner in crime for many a practical joke. If I hadn’t been painfully shy as a kid, I think I might have discovered the prankster in me a little earlier in life. So, I’m making up for loss time, while I have time to indulge.

The first week-and-a-half has gone remarkably well. We had about six days of furious landowner contacts to fix us up for January (session #9), in our third and final season of the study. And of course, many sardines cans have been spray painted, hair snares made and clipped, cameras inventoried, etc. There’s a still a fair amount of prep to do, but a whole week to spare before the field season officially kicks off, January 4th.

While work is going better than hoped, everything else is teetering on mildly stressful to incredibly so. My housing situation fixed itself up. I’ll be moving in with two undergrads, which I keep reminding myself is no different than any other field season I’ve had. I’ve lived in much closer quarters to undergrads, recent graduates and folks of varying backgrounds. And yet, this feels like a regression back to my college days.

And then there’s the seven-pound dead weight of textbooks I picked up the other day (oh yes, I did weigh it!) I even dutifully checked out my classrooms so I won’t be blindly trying to find them my first day of class, January 19, which I anticipate being late to, as I’ll be struggling all semester to try and finish work and get to class on time. Walking the corridors, I felt, well, a little old. A little out of my league. And more than a little afraid. Part of it is knowing that I’m not going back to school to fail, or for that matter, to be a mediocre student.

Not all is woe though. Now when I think about that third week in January, when a full-time job and night classes 4x a week will inevitably and painfully meet, my heart palpitates for just a minute or two and then, I shrug it off.

I’ll adjust. I always do.

Time Well Spent

2009-11-11T10:31:00.000-08:00

The good thing about long roadtrips is that you have plenty of time to think. The bad thing about long roadtrips is that you have plenty of time to think.

Driving from Kadoka, SD to Carbondale, IL yesterday, I had about 14+ hours to reflect on the past month, and what a brilliant month it’s been. When it comes down to it, 30 days is not a long time but these last four weeks have been jam packed with uniquely enriching experiences. I had not anticipated the wealth of access and opportunity that would be dropped on my lap.

I wanted telemetry experience, so after a quick lesson on how to use the receiver, I was handed the sole receiver that was available at the time and given free reign to track badgers that were out and about each night.

I wanted to trap badgers, so after a demo on how to set a leghold trap, I was let loose to trap any unmarked badger I found, as well as two marked badgers that needed replacement radio collars.

I wanted more experience handling carnivores – and mammals other than my disease-ridden beloved prairie dogs, and so I assisted in the processing of about two dozen black-footed ferrets and five American badgers.

It’s remarkable just how many chance encounters, casual introductions and referrals have led to jobs, grad school leads, collaboration on side projects and many a fascinating conversation. And of course there’s the people, who continue to amaze me with their generosity of time, expertise and advice that is so freely given. The world of conservation biology gets smaller and smaller with each passing field season. I look forward to the day when I truly enter this world and cease being an outsider peeking in.

A Weekend of Rest

2009-10-13T12:08:00.000-07:00

“A hunting cabin at the study site” – that was all I knew about my new home. I kept my fingers crossed for heat, grabbed what I thought might be my last shower in a good while in Interior, and dug out my no-rinse soap from my backpack and headed to Lower Brule, fully expecting a shed with a porter john out back.

And here I am writing this blog post on the kitchen table in my cabin on the plains, with a pitched roof, a loft, a wood stove, central heating, a washer/dryer, a clawfoot tub, views of the Missouri River, and a basement lab for pit tagging and processing ferrets. Mule deer and wild turkey mill around the cabin, and there’s a dog town no more than a 100 meters away.

I also seemed to have adopted two kittens and discovered that my slight allergy to cats has gotten much, much worse in the last year. There’s even a television that took me two days to figure how to use it … kinda. DVD (check), regular television news and programming (not so much). And after three days of puzzlement, I’ve confirmed that I’m back on central time even though I'm technically west of the Missouri.

I spent the last 2+ days eating when I was hungry and sleeping when I was tired. I hiked out to the river and checked out the PD towns looking for surface plugging, indicative of ferret presence. I cooked and froze food, setting myself up for the next 10 days. I read a book. I found wi-fi access. I made my first cell phone call from my place of residence for the first time in months.

I rested. I feel whole again. Good thing work’s started.

Goodbye P. Dogs

2009-10-09T11:23:00.000-07:00

The summer of 2009 is possibly the hardest I have worked in my life. At last count, we trapped some 1,270 individual black-tailed prairie dogs in four months and three trapping sessions. And then there were the nights spent spotlighting, initially for fun, then to help out, and then because two people were needed to hand spotlight out both sides of the truck.

I was entrusted with a research project to call my own. I stuck a leaf blower down 238 burrows, and hiked across PD colonies all over Buffalo Gap National Grasslands and Badlands National Park, with northern harriers, ferruginous hawks and bighorn sheep for company, plus the occasional perplexed tourist or cranky PD hunter.

I learned to make naan and bake two desserts. I played mini golf on National Talk Like A Pirate Day, and hosted a Malaysian makan in my trailer. I dye marked a ferret and trapped a badger, a handful of burrowing owls, a 13-lined ground squirrel, a rattlesnake, and several cottontails. I only mildly molested a large male PD weighing in at a 1490g(!), and scraped road kill off Highway 44 to get hair samples for a flea study. I drove from Wall to Interior with five gallons of gasoline in water jugs the night we found out that our one gas station in “town” started closing early for the Fall. I memorably got cozy with the crew on our second to last night – five in a trailer barely built for three – because both trailers ran out of propane 24-48 hours before the end of the season.

And in my free time, I’ve delved dangerously into André Gide, Joan Didion, David Quammen, David Eddings and Ayn Rand.

I’ve lived a lifetime this summer.

Down to the Wire

2009-09-17T14:14:00.000-07:00

I have data coming out of my ears. We blew through 1200 data sheets a week ago, and even though at least two crew members are entering data every day, we’re still behind. I was caught up on data checking on Monday. Today I have 22 sheets pending, and that’s just my half of it.

My second to last work week started off with a bang. We have three plots open for 2nd trapping and another three plots open for 3rd trapping. That’s 535 traps in play every morning – probably the most ambitious push to date. Thankfully, after three long days, we’ll be back to a more reasonable workload of four plots tomorrow.

With temps in the 90s and little to no wind, it’s been a strange September but trapping’s been grand.

Things that make me go … grrrr

2009-08-30T13:50:00.000-07:00

1. Unsolicited remarks about prairie dogs being bad for the environment and that plague is nature’s way of thinning them out.

2. I knew exactly three things about leaf blowers, and am absolutely hopeless at troubleshooting in the field when machinery breaks down because I don’t actually understand how these darn things work. Today, I know exactly four things about leaf blowers.

3. That I kinda bounce off a shovel when I jump on it, trying to dig into dry, compacted dirt.

4. My strategy for dealing with stress by working harder so I’m too exhausted to think, doesn’t work as well as I’d like it to.

5. Data checking.

6. I have to unscrew eight things just to replace a headlight in an old Jeep.

7. Dropping a screw after I’ve unscrewed eight things to replace a headlight in an old Jeep, for the second time, because each headlight decided to go defunct one week apart.

8. Old maps that don’t correspond to the lay of the land.

9. That I’m not more excited about going back to school.

10. Summer’s almost over.

Trap Happiest: American Badgers

2009-07-26T19:21:00.000-07:00

I’ve found my true love. These are such amazing beasts; cantankerous characters deserving of utmost respect. And if you get a chance, some pretty serious manhandling is certainly called for.

2009-07-26T19:17:00.001-07:00

2009-07-26T19:17:00.000-07:00

2009-07-26T19:16:00.001-07:00

2009-07-26T19:16:00.000-07:00

But seriously, how could anyone possibly resist?!

2009-07-26T19:15:00.000-07:00

Yeah, I should get out of the habit of chasing things down across the prairie ...

Trap Happier: Short-Eared Owl Fledgling

2009-07-26T19:13:00.000-07:00

Fledgling sighted on one fine day

2009-07-26T19:09:00.001-07:00

2009-07-26T19:09:00.000-07:00

2009-07-26T19:08:00.001-07:00

2009-07-26T19:08:00.000-07:00

Trap Happy: Burrowing Owls

2009-07-26T19:05:00.000-07:00

It’s Time.

2009-07-26T18:43:00.001-07:00

The exodus has begun. Dave left this morning, and over the course of the next week, both Annie and Amanda bid adieu. Then on August 3, two newbies arrive, just in time for Sturgis. The turnover – and the inundation of bikers – marks the midway point of the field season, a remarkable one at that.

Our first trapping session has been the most productive in this three-year study. I’ve managed to dabble, experiment and take a stab in spotlighting, trapping all manner of avian and terrestrial critters, and collaborate on designing and implementing a number of studies, some successful and some less so.

What will the second trapping session bring? I can’t wait to find out.

A Night to Remember

2009-07-15T18:33:00.000-07:00

I hit and killed a deer last night. A mule deer … not very large but very quick. It leaped out of nowhere. I saw it on the road and then it was one stride away from the front of my truck. And then it was gone. The hood flew up and all I saw was white. The deer must have flown some 15 feet when I found it a minute later. Dead … thank goodness! I don’t know what I would have done if the impact hadn’t killed it and it lay there suffering. Or if it landed on the other side of the road, and posed a danger to oncoming traffic.

The aftermath was a blur. A flurry of phone calls. Occasionally, I stepped into the road to direct vehicles away from the truck. All too often, I was rewarded with a shower of gravel and truck bits by cursed speeding motorists.

A woman from a road construction crew stopped to help, and help she did. She provided a warm, bug-free environment in her SUV. She offered a place to stay in Rapid City. She offered a ride back to Interior that very night with her teenage son. She gave me a hug and wished me luck when the police came and she hurried home to her family.

It was the first time I’ve sat in a cop car, though I didn’t get to sit in the cage; just the passenger seat. The senior state trooper was teaching the junior trooper how to file an accident report, so I sat through the “scroll down on your right” and “click on the second icon” lesson, and spelled out my name twice.

When the tow truck arrived, the ride was quick and easy, and a member of my crew was not too far behind, ready to whisk me back to my trailer home. Once back at camp, I sent photos and relevant information/contacts to Dean, before catching a little over two hours of sleep. Then 4 AM rolled along, and it was time for work.

It’s been hard to come to terms with the fact that this is my first accident. I haven’t had time to mull it over. To think about how lucky I am to escape unhurt. That I didn’t cause any injury (or worse) to my friend, colleague, and cohort, sitting next to me in the truck. On how things might have turned out differently if I was driving my own car. Still, now I have to contend with damages to the work vehicle and the possibility that it might impact our already too tight budget. And live with the possibility that I may single-handedly send my crew home early, all because I had the ill-fortune of hitting an ungulate.

There was a brief moment last night, while emailing photos of the damaged truck, when I almost lost it. A boo-hoo moment of feeling sorry for myself. Now I’m just exhausted. Spent. Lack of sleep, a full workday, and an afternoon spent filing reports and paperwork has tapped me out. And still, on every level, there’s that hoping, waiting, and wanting things to work out okay.

Maybe a good cry will help. Maybe sleep is all the healing I need.

Trapping Ferrets

2009-07-08T16:40:00.000-07:00

I trapped ferrets for the first time recently, dye marking this female in the chest for future ID. Next up...burrowing owls, and ... fingers crossed, badgers!

Poop Detail

2009-06-22T19:22:00.000-07:00

Every day after work, I stuff PD poop into vials and freeze them in a large ziplock bag labeled “Fresh Turds.”

Like a lot of rodents, PDs are major poopers. For this stress study, I have to homogenize each sample by mixing and squeezing the entire deposit together, which I then carry around my plot in little ziplocks. I collect up to eight bags of poop a day and keep a cooler in the truck to store them.

Once back in the trailer, the gloves come on, and I busy myself with compressing hefty loads into small petite plastic containers, which are then labeled and squirreled away in the freezer, next to the serving size portions of rendang, beef stew and lentil soup.

And then the fun begins. The soiled gloves are carefully placed in the filthy ziplocks and re-sealed. As long as the mess stays inside the bag, it’s fair game. Because here in Trailer #2, it’s the PD crew (of 2) vs. the ferret crew (of 1).

The game is simple: how many bags of poop can you hide within a very small living space? We each have about 30 square feet of semi-personal space, so the hiding places become more and more creative as the days go by. Pillows, boots, sleeping bag, field pack … almost anything goes. There are just two basic rules: nothing gets hidden with food items and laundry bags are strictly off limits (bummer!)

Being the poop collector though means having an endless cache that is restocked daily. So for now, I do have a slight edge and regular gleeful guffaws.

Cast of Characters

2009-06-15T09:54:00.000-07:00

South Dakota in June can be a little frustrating. Rain, rain and more rain, followed by periods of moderate heat (75- 85 degrees) and strong wind. Then the occasional flash flood and tornado warnings, and lightning storms. In short, we haven’t gotten to our upper plots since last Monday.

The crew’s been valiantly keeping themselves busy. Lots of reading; trips to Wall, Rapid City, even Kadoka; surfing the net; walks, runs and hikes; crossword and Sudoku puzzles; cooking and freezing meals in anticipation (and earnest hope!) of long work days ahead; and movies, lots and lots of movies.

The motley crew beckons from all over:

- Two from Massachusetts, with one hoping to move to Kansas this fall (in her defense, it’s for grad school)
- One originally from Ohio, but moved from Portland to Interior
- One from Indiana, who’s moving to Fort Collins in August
- Two from Missouri and one from DC, who know not where the road will lead come October

We have two psychology majors, one of whom is also a physics major, and a former pastry chef; two worked as deckhands on tall ships, and another as a farmhand; two vegetarians – one just gave up cheese and the other smokes; one jogs an effortless eight miles a day; one has bad knees, two have bum ankles, and another can’t arch her back. And we have a pastor’s daughter, who is an atheist.

Not a bad bunch of people so far … far from boring at least.

The Sun is Out in the Badlands

2009-06-13T14:40:00.000-07:00

I must be an awesome tap dancer.

2009-06-11T17:07:00.000-07:00

The little fella...

2009-06-11T17:05:00.000-07:00

Success!

2009-06-11T17:04:00.001-07:00

A chase ensues across the grasslands...

2009-06-11T17:04:00.000-07:00

A 13-lined ground squirrel is spotted in the grass...

In this episode of Man vs. Wild ...

2009-06-11T17:03:00.000-07:00

The Black Death

2009-06-07T09:33:00.000-07:00

“I avoid it like the plague”

I can’t use this phrase any longer. At least not honestly since this is my second summer working with plague-ridden black-tailed prairie dogs in Conata Basin, SD. It’s great to be back.

Even though it dipped to 41 degrees yesterday. And the waste water backed into the tub (a.k.a. my closet) in our trailer. And we got our truck mildly stuck this morning. And we had to hike to our plots because the road was too bad to drive. And after all that, we caught one whooping lactating female.

Not that I’m complaining or anything, because the primrose and spiderwort are blooming. Just in the last five days, I saw two rattlesnakes, a badger, a harrier, a burrowing owl, and several pronghorn. I made friends with the burrowing owl crew and secured a spot to spotlight and trap with them. I’ll be learning telemetry and working on a couple of independent studies. I’ve also learned 30+ new words in sign language, and made my first meat sauce.

We’ll be working almost exclusively on the upper plots this year with the Badlands at our doorstep. And with four new plots, we’ll have plenty to keep us busy. That is, if the weather cooperates. For now, I’ll obsessively check the hourly forecasts and do the rain dance. I have it on good authority that if you have no sense of rhythm, a rain dance will have the direct opposite effect, so I’ll be tap, tap, tapping away in my man boots till the sun shines.

New States of Friendships

2009-05-26T07:21:00.000-07:00

Zipping across the country through numerous states – some old, some new, some forgotten – I’ve had the privileged opportunity lately to reconnect with some dear friends.

Imbibing over beer, wine, root beer and mint tea; breaking bread in backyards, on decks, in restaurants, living rooms, kitchens and in Grand Central station; crashing in spare bedrooms, fold-out couches, floor space and basement futons; I’ve caught up on what’s new, and the benign and pleasant passing of life. There were also many late-night reminiscings on the meaning of life. Well actually, we mostly pondered on how little has changed, and how little has remained the same.

Of course, with any passage of time – up to 12 years in one instance – there was the meeting of spouses, children, parents, friends and pets. I even had time to help plant a vegetable garden with one family in Montana, trade ghost stories while chewing on dried squid with another in Ohio, and play peek-a-boo with an 18-month old Brooklyn toddler who didn’t understand a word I said.

These days with so much interaction limited to Facebook one-liners, it's good to spend face time with people I care about.

Random Thoughts from Another Time Zone

2009-05-18T19:30:00.001-07:00

It’s 9 AM and I see the sign: “see the largest prairie dog in the world!” But in Kansas?? Well, I have been struggling to find something nice to say about the state, and this sounded tacky enough to be worthwhile. But the signs led to a gas station, and the PD statue – apparently larger than the one in the Badlands – won’t be unveiled till this coming weekend. An uncontested claim it will remain. Which leaves me with nothing nice to say about Kansas, except that its speed limit is 70 mph. Oh, and at Kanorado, which is Exit 1, a whole mile from Colorado, I saw familiar burrows of my first PD colony for 2009. I left Kansas with a smile at least.

From Colorado on up to Wyoming, the pronghorn came out to play; I started to pass more pickup trucks and drivers with cowboy hats; and there was even a Wall Drug billboard.

I drove 719 miles today. This is my fifth road trip in one year, logging some 20,000 miles. As a result, my U.S. geography is improving … in my spare time this afternoon somewhere between Cheyenne and Sheridan, I learned that I could name 44 out of the 50 states. The region I performed worst in is the northeast, where I lived! Figures.

My appetite came back.

Hunger = Cranky x (Alone in Car) x 719 miles

I have sympathy for friends who have had to bear the brunt of my hunger crankiness.

Yep, I've definitely left the midwest

2009-05-18T19:30:00.000-07:00

Snow-Capped Mountains

2009-05-18T19:28:00.000-07:00

A nice change for sight lines in CO

Roadtriplogue

2009-05-17T18:26:00.001-07:00

One night in Kansas and the world's your oyster
The bars are temples but the pearls ain't free

It doesn’t quite have the same ring to it, does it? I am 159 miles from the Colorado border and can push on no longer, so a night in Kansas it is.

Historically, travelers stocked up in St. Louis before heading out west, so it seemed like a worthwhile tradition to emulate. My morning began with a Trader Joe’s run for Cliff bars, granola bars, peanut butter, mesquite honey, dried fruit and nuts, and a couple of bottles of wine.

Missouri was a pretty enough drive and I even made a pit stop at Mizzou, i.e. Missouri University, to drive around the campus, only to be stopped by about 150 students in graduation garb. Idling on the street waiting for the procession to pass, I broke into a cold sweat. It appears that I still have a ways to go in coming to terms with the idea of going back to school.

And then I hit Kansas. Let’s see … President Eisenhower, Bob Dole and Arlen Specter were all born here. Yeah, that’s about as interesting as it gets. And while I entertained the idea of pushing to Colorado tonight, I have also come to admit that it’s possible, that just maybe, my “allergies” is in fact a cold that has been brewing for a couple of days. The most compelling clue was the fact that even though I had hardly eaten all day, I’m not particularly cranky, just tired.

Every now and again, i.e. when I don’t have a choice, I listen to my body so it’s time to take it easy, get into bed before 9 PM, and sleep in. This is officially my memo to myself demanding, no excuse me, commanding compliance and better health by morning. I don’t have time to get sick, for goodness’ sake!

Hey, hey … maybe I am a little cranky after all.

It's graduation day at Mizzou

2009-05-17T18:26:00.000-07:00

Whoa ... talk about a serious wrong turn!

2009-05-17T18:24:00.000-07:00

OK, OK, humor me on a lame joke... I've been on I-70W for a loooooooooooooong time.

Taking a Sizeable Bite Out of the Big Apple

2009-05-14T15:44:00.000-07:00

I get the strange feeling that at least one of my friends in New York thinks I’ve become an uncultured vagabond. My lineup for 10 days in Gotham included: my first ballgame in three years; my first symphony (Mahler No. 1 in D Major); an uproarious British comedy visiting from London’s Old Vic; and a day of trail building in Bear Mountain.

These days, I hesitate to call New York ‘my’ city anymore. I still remember how to navigate the subways, walk and sip hot coffee without scalding myself, and can keep stride to hit every ‘walk’ sign on city blocks, expertly weaving through pedestrian foot traffic. When the #4 train inexplicably stopped at 149th Street, I joined scores of New Yorkers and walked the streets of the Bronx, following the Jeter, Teixeira and Rivera jerseys all the way to the new Yankee stadium.

But I no longer avert eye contact and even condescend to acknowledging another human being’s existence with a half-smile or a nod; and I haven’t felt the need to plug in my iPod, finding novelty in the city noise of construction, honking cabs, and snippets of random conversations.

This is a city where I am almost never asked where I am from. I’m brown and have black hair, after all. Now if you’re blond, blue-eyed and white…that’s unique! You can ride for 50 minutes on a subway from Brooklyn and not hear a word of English. My closest friends vary from locals to far-flung Thai and Turkish nationals. And you can walk out of Avery Fisher Hall after a performance by the NY Philharmonic, and know with certainty that there’s a percentage of people in that very same hall, who were also at the very same baseball stadium the night before. It’s that kind of city.

This is the city of my 20s and a place of many ‘firsts.’ This is where I found out what makes me tick and what turns me on. I attained some of my proudest professional achievements here, and too many gross personal failures. And yet each time I return, I feel more and more like a stranger; a visitor looking in. I’ve lost my edge, my angst.

Perhaps what feels strange and ever stranger is not ‘my’ city, but me; the person I was and the person I’ve become; the New Yorker vs. the former New Yorker. We go through many stages in our lives, and hopefully experience growth, transformation and evolution into better, updated versions of ‘I.’ Surrounded by these familiar settings – my home for 10+ years – I am reminded of my former self and struck by what I hope is forward progress of my current incarnation. I suppose NYC continues to teach me a thing or two about myself. It is one helluva city.

YMCA

2009-05-14T15:43:00.000-07:00

It might be a new stadium, but old traditions prevailed.

Yankee Game

2009-05-14T15:42:00.000-07:00

GW Bridge

2009-05-14T15:41:00.000-07:00

Brooklyn Bridge

2009-05-14T15:40:00.000-07:00

Have I ever mentioned I love bridges? And if I can't walk or climb them, I'd settle for driving across them.

A Traditional Hello from a Big City

2009-05-14T15:36:00.000-07:00

The only thing worse that driving in NYC is driving in Asia!

Four days ago, it took me 45 minutes to get through a 2.5 mile stretch ... oy vay!

Damp, foggy welcome to NYC

2009-05-14T15:34:00.000-07:00

Smokin’ Smokies

2009-05-05T20:18:00.000-07:00

Backpacking solo has always intimidated me. What if something were to happen?

While reading at my picnic table at my campsite in Cosby, the lady camped across from me came over and asked, “are you here alone?” When I answered in the affirmative, she asked, “and you’re hiking by yourself?” Again my answer was “yes” to which she responded: “do you remember that young man who had to cut off his arm in Utah?” Aron Ralston – an inspiring story, and an extreme example of what could go wrong.

Several things did happen on my solitary excursion: I hiked a 5.4 mile section of the Appalachian Trail (AT) tracing the Tennessee and North Carolina border; lunched at a historic fire lookout station on Mt. Cammerer; and met a 62-year-old pharmacist whose retirement gift to himself was to attempt to thru-hike all 2,175 miles of the AT. Inspired, huh?

Afterwards, I nursed sore muscles of my intact limbs and weary feet, but my spirit soared. It was the undisputed highlight of my trip to the Smokies. I had deprived myself an entire arena of fulfilling experiences simply by being afraid.

The true test though will come later. Will I be able to face down other areas of my life that has me paralyzed by fear; where the stakes are much higher than say, a sprained ankle? When I am next on the edge of ‘the great unknown,’ will I be able to take that step of … faith?

Gabes Mountain Trail

2009-05-05T20:17:00.000-07:00

Hen Wallow Falls

2009-05-05T20:15:00.000-07:00

Black Bear with two cubs

2009-05-05T20:14:00.000-07:00

Six black bears in a span of two hours made for some interesting wildlife viewing

Abrams Falls

2009-05-05T20:13:00.000-07:00

Drive to Cades Cove

2009-05-05T20:11:00.000-07:00

2009-05-05T20:10:00.000-07:00

Soaking sore feet

2009-05-05T20:09:00.000-07:00

Mystery flowers(?)

2009-05-05T20:07:00.000-07:00

Yellow-banded millipede

Mt. Cammerer Fire Lookout

2009-05-05T20:06:00.000-07:00

Campsite 37

2009-05-05T20:03:00.000-07:00

Nifty pulley system to hang packs and keep them out of reach from black bears

2009-05-05T20:01:00.000-07:00

Red-banded millipede (?)

Big Creek Trail

2009-05-05T19:51:00.000-07:00

Big Creek lived up to its name and was pleasant company for 5+ miles

Morton Overlook, Clingmans Dome

2009-05-05T19:50:00.000-07:00

Ramsey Cascades Trail

2009-05-05T19:49:00.000-07:00

Ramsey Cascades

2009-05-05T19:47:00.000-07:00

Bon Voyage … Au Revoir?

2009-04-26T18:35:00.000-07:00

I now officially have two field seasons under my belt, and in just five weeks, I start my third. Thus a new cycle begins.

My field apartment is devoid of funishings – even the retro tiger-striped couch found a new home. The mud stains on the carpet have been valiantly scrubbed at though not removed, the fridge emptied, and I’ve taken out the trash. My trunk-load of possessions have been washed/laundered/wiped clean and smelling a fair bit better than they’ve been in a while.

It’s time to roll. I have eight states in my sights and 1000+ miles to drive, though not all at once. I’ll be moseying along for a week of R&R, enjoying some time alone to reflect & review.

It’s been an unexpected four months. No ordinary field season, but then again, I don’t think I’ve had many ordinary experiences this past year. I’m leaving with plenty to think about, and some major decisions to make. I predict looking back at the summer of 2008 through the end of 2009 as a time of carefree abandon and self-discovery; a remarkably fortunate time to have in my life.

And then, I anticipate life coming at me at full speed. As it turns out, growing up is hard to do … even at 32.

2009-04-19T14:27:00.000-07:00

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Weathering the Elements

2009-04-19T14:22:00.000-07:00

It’s your second to last weekend before you leave, and it’s pouring; what do you do? Find a waterfall; in fact, find several.

I had been to Fern Clyffe State Park once with my friend, Aaron, and I had thought even then, that I needed to come back – this was such a pretty place! And after a downpour, Fern Clyffe trickles with waterfalls at every turn.

Sentry Bluff Trail

2009-04-19T14:21:00.000-07:00

Natural Bridge

2009-04-19T14:20:00.001-07:00

2009-04-19T14:20:00.000-07:00

Lunch at Bay Creek