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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

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

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

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

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

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?

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)