Sorry for the two weeks off, folks. I see (and have heard) that my audience is not impressed with me. Sigh. Story of my life. So, I’m used to the nagging. I don’t give in that easily. Besides I know who you are and where you live, so watch out!
And now for the next blog:
Even in the field of wildlife biology, technology is advancing and generations are finding it more difficult to communicate. I’m a gen Xer. My techs are gen Y. I learned how to get around the woods by using a map, compass and altimeter. I was literally dumped in the middle of the woods by my boss, told to go to points A through G, and meet him back at his truck at point H at 5pm. I got lost…a lot, but I learned. And I found his truck.
My techs know how to use a GPS and claimed during the interview that they knew how to read maps and use compasses. Before we went into the field, I asked again if they knew how to read a map and use a compass. “Sure do,” they said.
If they knew how to use a map so well, why did my crew leader and I walk around a ridge for an hour looking for a hair snare they installed? Why did we have to give up searching, start cussing them out, then go back to the truck, resigned to set a new one? Why did we then look down the ridge and see the snare in the valley? ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE ROAD FROM WHERE THEY PLACED IT ON THE MAP!
After my crew leader and I finally baited the snare in the valley and got into our truck, he looked at me and said, “So, time for you to learn how to use a GPS?”
I did. I learned. Now I use a GPS sometimes and a map all the time. As for my techs? They still claimed they knew how to read a map and refused to let me teach them.
In the case of many of my techs, generation Y was aptly named. As in, Y-bother.
Monday, October 25, 2010
Monday, October 4, 2010
Off to the Races
I don’t know how it was possible, but my second field season on this project was worse than the first. I went into the field knowing what we were going to do. I had a plan. Too bad I hired techs that made the Gnome look like Einstein. Our first day in the field, my mother and father, who came to visit and see my field site, did more work than my techs. When tech number one arrived, he sat on the couch and stared at the wall while my parents, my crew leader, and I unloaded supplies. Occasionally, we’d ask him to do something, hoping his brain would turn on and he’d start taking some initiative. No such luck. He’d do whatever task we asked him to do then he’d sit back on the couch and stare at the wall. When tech number two arrived, we’d finished unloading, so he sat with tech number one and stared at the wall. Apparently, it was a fascinating wall. Tech number three? Didn’t bother showing up.
And thus began season number two, a season filled with killer Slinkys and wannabe rock stars.
And thus began season number two, a season filled with killer Slinkys and wannabe rock stars.
Monday, September 27, 2010
Are You Grousing Me?
Okay, so grouse isn’t a verb. It’s a bird. And grousing isn’t a word, but so what. This is my blog. Get over it.
If you know what a grouse is, then you might know they eat vegetation. When they’re young, they even eat insects. But they don’t eat salmon. So when I was in a meeting earlier this year and a wildlife biologist said he and his team wanted to study the effects of adding dead salmon to streams on grouse, I was stunned. There were so many things wrong with that statement, but I managed to keep my argument simple.
“We need to study the effects of throwing dead salmon in streams on bears (or some other fish-eating animal), because we already know how bears respond in a natural salmon system,” I said. “If bears don’t respond as we would expect, our management strategy may not be working for wildlife species that are known to use salmon in intact systems. Because no one has ever studied the effects of salmon on grouse, you must first study grouse in an intact salmon system, not in a management area where salmon no longer occur.”
“But everyone knows bears eat salmon,” he said. “We want to study grouse.”
“But grouse don’t eat salmon. And the question isn’t just will the bears eat the dead fish, it’s will the bears consume enough to effect growth rates, reproduction, survival, etc.”
“We want to study grouse.”
And I want to win the lottery, but it ain’t gonna happen...just like the grouse study.
TSWB
If you know what a grouse is, then you might know they eat vegetation. When they’re young, they even eat insects. But they don’t eat salmon. So when I was in a meeting earlier this year and a wildlife biologist said he and his team wanted to study the effects of adding dead salmon to streams on grouse, I was stunned. There were so many things wrong with that statement, but I managed to keep my argument simple.
“We need to study the effects of throwing dead salmon in streams on bears (or some other fish-eating animal), because we already know how bears respond in a natural salmon system,” I said. “If bears don’t respond as we would expect, our management strategy may not be working for wildlife species that are known to use salmon in intact systems. Because no one has ever studied the effects of salmon on grouse, you must first study grouse in an intact salmon system, not in a management area where salmon no longer occur.”
“But everyone knows bears eat salmon,” he said. “We want to study grouse.”
“But grouse don’t eat salmon. And the question isn’t just will the bears eat the dead fish, it’s will the bears consume enough to effect growth rates, reproduction, survival, etc.”
“We want to study grouse.”
And I want to win the lottery, but it ain’t gonna happen...just like the grouse study.
TSWB
Monday, September 20, 2010
Irony’s a bitch.
This weekend I was reminded of what an idiot the Gnome truly was. A friend of mine stopped to pick some apples from a tree with a sign posted next to it that said, “Do not pick my apples.” My friend ignored the sign, picked some apples then twisted his ankle. We both said, “That’s karma for you.”
Whenever something like this happened to the Gnome, he always said, “Irony’s a bitch.” I’m sure the first few times he said it, my face went slack with stupidity. I couldn’t understand what he meant. Then it hit me. He meant karma not irony.
I don’t know if irony’s a bitch, but stupid is entertaining.
And karma will surely come after me for writing this blog.
TSWB
Whenever something like this happened to the Gnome, he always said, “Irony’s a bitch.” I’m sure the first few times he said it, my face went slack with stupidity. I couldn’t understand what he meant. Then it hit me. He meant karma not irony.
I don’t know if irony’s a bitch, but stupid is entertaining.
And karma will surely come after me for writing this blog.
TSWB
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Why do I bother?
So I was in a meeting yesterday, figuring I’d get some good material for the blog. The meeting was filled to the gills with fish biologists. Not one wildlife biologist (with the exception of yours truly and her boss). We presented our proposal asking for more funding. At the end, one fish bio said, “There’s a lot of great science going on here...except this bear stuff. Why don’t you study the ENTIRE FOOD WEB instead of focusing on bears?” My boss and I looked at each other in absolute confusion. How can we possibly study the whole food web? It’s ginormous!
The fish biologist associated with our project explained to him that we have studied the food web. Admittedly, I was still confused. There’s no way we’ve studied the whole food web. Later, I found out that from a fish biologist’s perspective the entire food web consists of everything from biofilm to fish and insects. Anything beyond that (apparently) doesn’t exist.
Do I really need to explain what’s wrong with that? If I do, you must be a fish biologist.
TSWB
The fish biologist associated with our project explained to him that we have studied the food web. Admittedly, I was still confused. There’s no way we’ve studied the whole food web. Later, I found out that from a fish biologist’s perspective the entire food web consists of everything from biofilm to fish and insects. Anything beyond that (apparently) doesn’t exist.
Do I really need to explain what’s wrong with that? If I do, you must be a fish biologist.
TSWB
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Attack of the Killer Slinkys
Before everyone thinks I never say good things about techs, let me say this: without two spectacular techs, I wouldn’t have survived my first field season on this project. These techs were completely invested in the study and helped me problem solve virtually every day. I am especially grateful for one of these techs because he has suffered through the years with me. The other was a little brighter. He moved on to bigger and better pastures.
But let’s face it. Telling sappy stories about good techs isn’t nearly as fun as snark...so back to it!
This next blog is hard for me, because it forces me to admit I don’t know everything. I work with a lot of different personalities. One personality (who I only work with on occasion) has a VERY dry sense of humor. Unless you know him well, which I don’t, you can’t tell if he’s joking. So when he asked me if I knew how to properly roll barbed-wire, I snorted and said, “Who doesn’t,” thinking he was joking. I mean, how hard can rolling barbed-wire be?
The next the day, three of my four techs and I rolled hundreds and hundreds of feet of barbed-wire. Little did I know, there is a right way to roll barbed-wire…and many wrong ways. Two of my techs knew how to roll barbed-wire. They also knew my other tech and I did NOT, but instead of saying anything, they watched us roll hundreds of feet improperly.
I still had no idea there was a right way and a wrong way to roll the wire until we unrolled it. Turns out, if the wire unrolls in a neat and controlled manner, you did it right. If it springs at your face like a giant killer Slinky trying to scratch out your eyeballs with its barbs, you did it wrong.
Needless to say, we spent many weeks dodging life-sized barbed Slinkys. The two wonderful techs that didn’t think to point out our error before we rolled hundreds of feet of wire incorrectly?
They didn’t last long.
TSWB
But let’s face it. Telling sappy stories about good techs isn’t nearly as fun as snark...so back to it!
This next blog is hard for me, because it forces me to admit I don’t know everything. I work with a lot of different personalities. One personality (who I only work with on occasion) has a VERY dry sense of humor. Unless you know him well, which I don’t, you can’t tell if he’s joking. So when he asked me if I knew how to properly roll barbed-wire, I snorted and said, “Who doesn’t,” thinking he was joking. I mean, how hard can rolling barbed-wire be?
The next the day, three of my four techs and I rolled hundreds and hundreds of feet of barbed-wire. Little did I know, there is a right way to roll barbed-wire…and many wrong ways. Two of my techs knew how to roll barbed-wire. They also knew my other tech and I did NOT, but instead of saying anything, they watched us roll hundreds of feet improperly.
I still had no idea there was a right way and a wrong way to roll the wire until we unrolled it. Turns out, if the wire unrolls in a neat and controlled manner, you did it right. If it springs at your face like a giant killer Slinky trying to scratch out your eyeballs with its barbs, you did it wrong.
Needless to say, we spent many weeks dodging life-sized barbed Slinkys. The two wonderful techs that didn’t think to point out our error before we rolled hundreds of feet of wire incorrectly?
They didn’t last long.
TSWB
Monday, September 6, 2010
The Gnome was NOT the sharpest tool in the shed:
This is a short and sweet lesson about your State Fish and Wildlife Agency.
For those of you who are unaware, your state Fish and Wildlife Agency (or whatever it calls itself) has Law Enforcement Officers. To those of us in the business they’re known as L-E-Os or LEOs. LEOs do as their name suggests. They enforce laws. So it’s NOT advisable to scream by a LEO—who is doing 60 in a 55—virtually blowing off its doors, 'cause he or she is gonna pull you over (and wonder if you’re drunk or stupid). It’s also NOT advisable to fish without a license when you work for the agency that enforces fishing and hunting laws. ‘Cause that’s gonna get you fined…then fired.
For those of you who are unaware, your state Fish and Wildlife Agency (or whatever it calls itself) has Law Enforcement Officers. To those of us in the business they’re known as L-E-Os or LEOs. LEOs do as their name suggests. They enforce laws. So it’s NOT advisable to scream by a LEO—who is doing 60 in a 55—virtually blowing off its doors, 'cause he or she is gonna pull you over (and wonder if you’re drunk or stupid). It’s also NOT advisable to fish without a license when you work for the agency that enforces fishing and hunting laws. ‘Cause that’s gonna get you fined…then fired.
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