People who work with animals deal with a lot of shit…I mean poop. So much so, they can often identify animals by their poop. For example, elk poop looks like Milk Duds while Panda poop looks like a woody football. Some grizzly bear poop looks suspiciously like the food they’ve eaten, which is why we can often identify what a bear eats by looking at its poop.
One day, a technician working at a captive bear facility was shoveling shit when he saw something round and red in the pile of poop. Wondering what it was, he picked it up. The size and shape of a cherry, it was not a cherry, but it was some kind of fruit. A fruit he could not identify.
So what did he do?
He started to put it in his mouth. After all, when you can’t identify something that is obviously edible, why not taste it?
Horrified with what he was about to do, he stopped…
And realized he was far too comfortable with poop.
Monday, March 5, 2012
Monday, February 27, 2012
My Life:
As I struggled with what I was going to write this week because I haven’t been in the field lately, someone sent me this:
‘nough said.
‘nough said.
Monday, February 20, 2012
Day Two Comes to a Close...
Fortunately, we had a cat in a tree at the end of our epic hike—-had there not been a cat, Jasmine would’ve killed Cougar Hunter.
Unfortunately, things didn’t go as planned. The cat fell out of the tree—-after being darted—-and took off running. Cougar Hunter, being tough and stupid, ran after the cat and tried to grab it by the tail, missing by a few inches…because the cat turned to face him. The cat and Cougar Hunter engaged in a game of cat and hunter until Cougar Hunter injected the cat with more drug.
At which point Jasmine and I, who were watching from a safe distance, breathed a sigh of relief.
That was, until Cougar Hunter yelled for help. Then I sprinted into action, and the next thing I knew, I was sitting on a snowy mountain, holding a not completely sleeping cougar by the collar as it tried to get away from me.
And all I could think was, I’m not tough enough to be this stupid.
Unfortunately, things didn’t go as planned. The cat fell out of the tree—-after being darted—-and took off running. Cougar Hunter, being tough and stupid, ran after the cat and tried to grab it by the tail, missing by a few inches…because the cat turned to face him. The cat and Cougar Hunter engaged in a game of cat and hunter until Cougar Hunter injected the cat with more drug.
At which point Jasmine and I, who were watching from a safe distance, breathed a sigh of relief.
That was, until Cougar Hunter yelled for help. Then I sprinted into action, and the next thing I knew, I was sitting on a snowy mountain, holding a not completely sleeping cougar by the collar as it tried to get away from me.
And all I could think was, I’m not tough enough to be this stupid.
Monday, February 13, 2012
Day Two Continues...
After crossing the river, we realized we weren’t on the trail of a cat, so we aborted the mission. And crossed the freaking river again.
No biggie. I did it.
And then the dogs got a track that went straight up the mountain.
So we slogged up the mountain through deep snow for over an hour. The only time we were not slogging through several feet of snow was when we were no longer hiking. We were rock climbing.
Have I mentioned I’m afraid of heights? And so is Jasmine. And apparently so is Cougar Hunter. But none of us said a word. We just went up.
When Cougar Hunter and I reached the top of the ridge, I stopped and looked back at Jasmine, who was hanging from the rock face.
“You okay?” I called to her.
“Yeah.” Her voice shook as she let go of the rock with one hand and reached in her pocket to pull out her camera. “Just taking a picture.”
She took it then climbed the rest of the way up and admitted, “I just did that to cover up the fact that I was going to pee my pants from fear.”
No biggie. I did it.
And then the dogs got a track that went straight up the mountain.
So we slogged up the mountain through deep snow for over an hour. The only time we were not slogging through several feet of snow was when we were no longer hiking. We were rock climbing.
Have I mentioned I’m afraid of heights? And so is Jasmine. And apparently so is Cougar Hunter. But none of us said a word. We just went up.
When Cougar Hunter and I reached the top of the ridge, I stopped and looked back at Jasmine, who was hanging from the rock face.
“You okay?” I called to her.
“Yeah.” Her voice shook as she let go of the rock with one hand and reached in her pocket to pull out her camera. “Just taking a picture.”
She took it then climbed the rest of the way up and admitted, “I just did that to cover up the fact that I was going to pee my pants from fear.”
Monday, February 6, 2012
A Weekend in the Field with Cougar Hunter: Day Two
Day two in the field started out not so swell. At least, not for me. Because I can’t cross a river to save my life. I have no balance. So walking across a log from one river bank to another is akin to walking a tightrope. As if walking across a downed tree isn’t bad enough, Cougar Hunter picked a tree a good ten feet above the rushing river-—have I mentioned I’m afraid of heights? Granted the tree was wide, but it was covered in snow and ice.
As I watched Cougar Hunter cross with ease, I gave myself a pep talk. I could do this. It wasn’t that bad. Just one foot in front of the other.
Next to go was the houndsman—-with a dog in tow—-not an easy feat, but he made it look easy.
I could do this. I really could.
And I tried. I really did. I stood on the edge of the log, willing my feet to move, but they wouldn't. They were cemented to the snow and ice, frozen with fear.
So how did I get across?
I, the experienced and professional wildlife biologist, straddled the freaking log and scooted my way across. Mind you, I was petrified and my entire body was trembling. And it took what felt like a day for me to get across. Nothing like coming out to "help" and holding up the show.
To make matters worse, Jasmine, my dear friend who has spent but a handful of days in the woods, skipped across the stupid log like she was playing freaking hopscotch.
As I watched Cougar Hunter cross with ease, I gave myself a pep talk. I could do this. It wasn’t that bad. Just one foot in front of the other.
Next to go was the houndsman—-with a dog in tow—-not an easy feat, but he made it look easy.
I could do this. I really could.
And I tried. I really did. I stood on the edge of the log, willing my feet to move, but they wouldn't. They were cemented to the snow and ice, frozen with fear.
So how did I get across?
I, the experienced and professional wildlife biologist, straddled the freaking log and scooted my way across. Mind you, I was petrified and my entire body was trembling. And it took what felt like a day for me to get across. Nothing like coming out to "help" and holding up the show.
To make matters worse, Jasmine, my dear friend who has spent but a handful of days in the woods, skipped across the stupid log like she was playing freaking hopscotch.
Monday, January 30, 2012
A Weekend in the Field with Cougar Hunter...
Last weekend, Jasmine and I went into the field to help Cougar Hunter. In those two days, we learned just how “tough” we are.
And I got several weeks’ worth of blogs.
The first day, Cougar Hunter took us out on snowmobiles. Jasmine rode with the houndsman (not THE HOUNDSMAN) while I rode with Cougar Hunter. Jasmine was excited. This was her first time on a snowmobile. I was not--I’m certain I’ve blogged about what a great snowmobiler I am.
But once I realized how skilled Cougar Hunter was at driving a snow machine, I relaxed. He was so good at driving the snow machine, I didn’t flinch when he drove onto a steep and narrow path on the side of the mountain. A mountain we could’ve tumbled down. Hell, I was so confident in Cougar Hunter, I stayed relaxed when we were no longer snowmobiling, but speed boating with snowmobiles on ponds of water.
So yeah, I was proud of him and me, ’cause I was relaxed.
That was, until he launched the snowmobile off a “bump” in the “road” and I almost went hurtling off the back end.
Oh yeah, it promised to be fun weekend.
And I got several weeks’ worth of blogs.
The first day, Cougar Hunter took us out on snowmobiles. Jasmine rode with the houndsman (not THE HOUNDSMAN) while I rode with Cougar Hunter. Jasmine was excited. This was her first time on a snowmobile. I was not--I’m certain I’ve blogged about what a great snowmobiler I am.
But once I realized how skilled Cougar Hunter was at driving a snow machine, I relaxed. He was so good at driving the snow machine, I didn’t flinch when he drove onto a steep and narrow path on the side of the mountain. A mountain we could’ve tumbled down. Hell, I was so confident in Cougar Hunter, I stayed relaxed when we were no longer snowmobiling, but speed boating with snowmobiles on ponds of water.
So yeah, I was proud of him and me, ’cause I was relaxed.
That was, until he launched the snowmobile off a “bump” in the “road” and I almost went hurtling off the back end.
Oh yeah, it promised to be fun weekend.
Monday, January 23, 2012
YOU BETTER BE TOUGH IF YOU’RE GONNA BE STUPID:
This is Cougar Hunter’s motto. And for good reason. Sometimes he’s not too bright. But he sure is tough.
Last week Cougar Hunter darted a cougar in a tree next to a stream. For those of you who do not understand the problem with darting a cat next to a stream, you’ll soon find out.
To give Cougar Hunter credit, in his study area, every tree is near a stream, but just as Cougar Hunter feared, the cat jumped from the tree and ran…after it was darted. Cougar Hunter tracked the cat through a foot of snow and across the stream roughly eight times. The last time he came to the stream, he didn’t see tracks on the other side. But when he looked upriver, he saw the cat hanging over a log, face down in the water.
Just as he had feared.
Cougar Hunter ran up the creek—-in thigh-high, freezing cold water—-grabbed the cat by the collar and pulled its head out of the stream, only to have the cat turn on him and try to take his face off. Somehow Cougar Hunter kept hold of the cat, while standing in the middle of the rushing water, and injected it with more drug. Then he dragged the 165 pound male cougar to an island in the middle of the stream and recollared it. Fifty minutes later, his “help” showed up. They carried the cat across the stream to a spot far enough away from the water that it wouldn’t drown itself as it woke up.
I’m not that tough. Had this been me, I’d have died from hypothermia. Or I would’ve been cougar bait. But then again, I’m not that stupid.
Last week Cougar Hunter darted a cougar in a tree next to a stream. For those of you who do not understand the problem with darting a cat next to a stream, you’ll soon find out.
To give Cougar Hunter credit, in his study area, every tree is near a stream, but just as Cougar Hunter feared, the cat jumped from the tree and ran…after it was darted. Cougar Hunter tracked the cat through a foot of snow and across the stream roughly eight times. The last time he came to the stream, he didn’t see tracks on the other side. But when he looked upriver, he saw the cat hanging over a log, face down in the water.
Just as he had feared.
Cougar Hunter ran up the creek—-in thigh-high, freezing cold water—-grabbed the cat by the collar and pulled its head out of the stream, only to have the cat turn on him and try to take his face off. Somehow Cougar Hunter kept hold of the cat, while standing in the middle of the rushing water, and injected it with more drug. Then he dragged the 165 pound male cougar to an island in the middle of the stream and recollared it. Fifty minutes later, his “help” showed up. They carried the cat across the stream to a spot far enough away from the water that it wouldn’t drown itself as it woke up.
I’m not that tough. Had this been me, I’d have died from hypothermia. Or I would’ve been cougar bait. But then again, I’m not that stupid.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)