Exhausted people do stupid shit. Problem is when you work with bears, stupid shit turns into dangerous shit...or spectacularly stupid shit. For example, my friend J was so tired last week, she darted the wrong bear for her research. Silly J.
This week, I’m too exhausted to write more than this.
Monday, February 7, 2011
Monday, January 31, 2011
Just Call me Clueless:
Some people are good managers. Some not so much. Where do I sit on the spectrum? I’ll let you decide.
Last week, I had to let a worker know his performance wasn’t good enough. I kept our talk short and to the point and was amazed when his work and attitude turned around. Everyone else noticed it, too! He went from being a total dud to a stud. The next day, he was equally as good. Everyone was impressed. And I patted myself on the back for being a good manager and getting the point across in a motivating way. Later that day, I mentioned to a friend that this worker had improved immensely. I figured she’d like to know because she recommended him for the job.
She laughed and said, “I told his girlfriend he was going to get fired if he didn’t turn it around. She told him if he got fired he had exactly one week to find another job or she was leaving him.”
So much for my great management skills.
Last week, I had to let a worker know his performance wasn’t good enough. I kept our talk short and to the point and was amazed when his work and attitude turned around. Everyone else noticed it, too! He went from being a total dud to a stud. The next day, he was equally as good. Everyone was impressed. And I patted myself on the back for being a good manager and getting the point across in a motivating way. Later that day, I mentioned to a friend that this worker had improved immensely. I figured she’d like to know because she recommended him for the job.
She laughed and said, “I told his girlfriend he was going to get fired if he didn’t turn it around. She told him if he got fired he had exactly one week to find another job or she was leaving him.”
So much for my great management skills.
Monday, January 24, 2011
Women can be Idiots, too.
Last week someone asked if I ever thought about hiring females…since the boys all seem to work out so well. I have hired females, but other than a few personality quirks, they’ve been quite good.
Not so for a friend of mine. He brought on a graduate student that was quite literally insane. At first, when we interviewed her, she was impressive. She knew a lot about bears, had read a lot of articles and asked intelligent questions. But after a bit, I realized something was off. She didn’t just like bears. She revered them. She actually uttered the words, “I worship the grizzly bear.”
Shockingly, I didn’t burst out into laughter, but I did poke fun. “So you’re really into bears,” I said in my snarky tone.
She didn’t seem to catch my sarcasm. She simply nodded and said, “Way,” as only a stoner could.
Needless to say, I was shocked when my colleague brought her on as a grad student. I wasn’t shocked when he let her go.
Not so for a friend of mine. He brought on a graduate student that was quite literally insane. At first, when we interviewed her, she was impressive. She knew a lot about bears, had read a lot of articles and asked intelligent questions. But after a bit, I realized something was off. She didn’t just like bears. She revered them. She actually uttered the words, “I worship the grizzly bear.”
Shockingly, I didn’t burst out into laughter, but I did poke fun. “So you’re really into bears,” I said in my snarky tone.
She didn’t seem to catch my sarcasm. She simply nodded and said, “Way,” as only a stoner could.
Needless to say, I was shocked when my colleague brought her on as a grad student. I wasn’t shocked when he let her go.
Monday, January 17, 2011
Another Idiot
When I was getting my master’s degree, I had a few great technicians, and one idiot. One day, we noticed a flicker had created a giant hole in our animal care building. Because this sort of thing was not up to code, we needed to fix it…before the bird finished building its nest. So I asked my idiot tech to take care of it.
Several days later, he said, “I took care of the flicker problem."
“Thanks,” I said. The next day I go out to the facility, expecting to see
something covering the hole, but the hole was still there. “How exactly did you take care of the flicker problem?” I asked.
He smirked and pointed his finger in the sky, imitating a gun.
“Hmmm…” I said, slowing letting air out of my nose. “You do know it’s illegal to shoot a flicker?”
“Yeah, but…”
“Never mind we’re on a college campus.”
“I know, but you said to take care of it, so I did.”
“You didn’t think there might be a better way? Like covering the hole?”
“Sure, but…”
I know you all know just how long this guy lasted.
Several days later, he said, “I took care of the flicker problem."
“Thanks,” I said. The next day I go out to the facility, expecting to see
something covering the hole, but the hole was still there. “How exactly did you take care of the flicker problem?” I asked.
He smirked and pointed his finger in the sky, imitating a gun.
“Hmmm…” I said, slowing letting air out of my nose. “You do know it’s illegal to shoot a flicker?”
“Yeah, but…”
“Never mind we’re on a college campus.”
“I know, but you said to take care of it, so I did.”
“You didn’t think there might be a better way? Like covering the hole?”
“Sure, but…”
I know you all know just how long this guy lasted.
Monday, January 10, 2011
Training Days:
I got my start in wildlife out of pure desperation--on my part and the part of my employer. I had been out of college for two years, had fought fires for two summers and needed a job that was less, well, fiery. So what did I do? I applied to be a hooter. No, not a waitress who wears skimpy clothes. An idiot who walks through the woods, hooting like an owl.
When I showed up to the interview, I met two men. One charismatic. The other not so much. Charismatic Guy did all the talking. “Not So Much” sat in the corner and listened.
Charismatic Guy: “What kind of outdoor experience do you have?”
Me: “I fought fires for two seasons.”
“Have you ever hiked off trail on your own?”
“No.”
“Do you know how to read a map and compass?”
“No.”
“Do you know how to drive a four-wheel-drive truck?”
“No.”
“Do you know how to hoot?”
“No.”
“Do you know what a spotted owl looks like?”
“They have spots, right?”
Charismatic Guy looked at Not So Much. They both gave pathetic “why me” sort of laughs then said, “You’re hired.”
Poor bastards.
When I showed up to the interview, I met two men. One charismatic. The other not so much. Charismatic Guy did all the talking. “Not So Much” sat in the corner and listened.
Charismatic Guy: “What kind of outdoor experience do you have?”
Me: “I fought fires for two seasons.”
“Have you ever hiked off trail on your own?”
“No.”
“Do you know how to read a map and compass?”
“No.”
“Do you know how to drive a four-wheel-drive truck?”
“No.”
“Do you know how to hoot?”
“No.”
“Do you know what a spotted owl looks like?”
“They have spots, right?”
Charismatic Guy looked at Not So Much. They both gave pathetic “why me” sort of laughs then said, “You’re hired.”
Poor bastards.
Monday, January 3, 2011
My life could be a reality TV show:
At least that’s what one of my techs told me. “Just watching you walk through the woods is hilarious!” he said, laughing so hard he was bent over, holding his stomach.
So what had him in stitches and declaring me a reality TV moron?
After hiking all day, and not more than five yards from the truck, I stuck my hands in my pockets. Two steps later, I tripped (on nothing but air) and fell forward.
Hands in pockets.
Face in dirt.
So what had him in stitches and declaring me a reality TV moron?
After hiking all day, and not more than five yards from the truck, I stuck my hands in my pockets. Two steps later, I tripped (on nothing but air) and fell forward.
Hands in pockets.
Face in dirt.
Monday, December 27, 2010
Just Another Day in German Creek:
Anyone who worked on my crew the first year knows and hates German Creek. This canyon almost killed us several times. Every time we entered, we’d try a different (hopefully easier) way. We tried the north side, but it was too steep and rocky, and the downed trees were so big I looked like a dying floppy fish every time I crawled over them. The south side was a combination of sheer rock interspersed with what we referred to as “Willow Hell”—a tangle of willow too thick to break through and guaranteed to dump a few hundred ticks on your back. No, the easiest way to get into German Creek was straight up a steep sandy slope that literally fell out from underneath you every time you took a step. This was exhausting, especially with a 50lb pack on your back. We went to that creek at least thirty times one summer (sometimes twice in one day.) We suffered from heat exhaustion and massive allergy attacks. We also took some serious falls, but miraculously, no one on my crew got hurt.
The second year, we changed our study design and didn’t have to hike into German Creek until the end of the season. At this point it was just me and my lead tech. We knew what we were in for, so we bit the bullet and went in.
“Not too bad,” each of us said on the way out.
We spoke too soon.
I took a step and felt the hillside fall out from underneath me like an avalanche of dirt. Somehow, I managed to dive forward and grab the willows in front of me as my body fell downward. After all was said and done, I was left hanging from two vines with no footing underneath me, screaming at the top of my lungs, “I hate F*@! German Creek!”
The second year, we changed our study design and didn’t have to hike into German Creek until the end of the season. At this point it was just me and my lead tech. We knew what we were in for, so we bit the bullet and went in.
“Not too bad,” each of us said on the way out.
We spoke too soon.
I took a step and felt the hillside fall out from underneath me like an avalanche of dirt. Somehow, I managed to dive forward and grab the willows in front of me as my body fell downward. After all was said and done, I was left hanging from two vines with no footing underneath me, screaming at the top of my lungs, “I hate F*@! German Creek!”
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