Sorry folks. I had internet problems in the morning yesterday and was traveling to a bear conference in the afternoon. During our travels, Jasmine, who has a problem with speeding, got pulled over. Though the state trooper did give Jasmine a ticket—a whopping twenty bucks payable on the roadside in Big Sky Country for us out-of-staters—he was very nice.
After collecting Jasmine’s money, he asked, “Where are you ladies heading?”
“Missoula,” Jasmine said.
“To a bear conference,” I added.
The trooper gave us a blank look so Jasmine clarified. “You know, bears.” She made a claw with her hand and swiped at him. Then she roared.
For a split second, everything went silent. Had Jasmine really swiped at and then roared at the cop? Why yes, yes she had.
When the cop said, “I think I’m going to have you step out of the car…” I was sure she was going to be taking a sobriety test. I was also pretty sure she’d fail because we were so giddy…and Jasmine was…well, Jasmine. “…and have you reenact that on the roadside for the passersby to see ‘cause that was the worst impression of a bear I’ve ever seen.”
Stories about being a wildlife biologist. They'll make you glad you're not a wildlife biologist. And if you are a wildlife biologist? They'll make you glad you're not me.
This is a blog. This is NOT peer-reviewed. This is not science. The stories I tell are mine. For those of you who don't understand: These stories are told from my point of view. They are my opinion and only that. They are my memories, however I choose to remember and/or embellish them. The resemblance of characters in my stories to anyone in my life is not completely unintentional, however, I strive to protect their identities; because seriously, the shit they do and say is humiliating and stupid.
Oh...I'm telling these stories because my therapist thinks it'll help my mental and emotional well-being.
Oh...I'm telling these stories because my therapist thinks it'll help my mental and emotional well-being.
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Monday, March 12, 2012
Energizer Bunnies are no Weebles…
Warning: If gross injuries make you queasy, do not scroll down to view the picture at the bottom of the blog. It’s quite disgusting!
In today’s blog, I introduce a new character dubbed EB because he has the energy of the Energizer Bunny. EB is a woodsman and an athlete. He hikes. He hunts. He runs. He rock climbs. With his background, one would think he could survive a weekend fieldtrip to retrieve radio collars without any major catastrophes.
Alas, EB may have boundless energy, but he is not a Weeble. So when he was hiking through steep and rugged country and slipped, he not only wobbled, he fell down. Hard.
And landed himself in the hospital…
With no radio collar to show for his effort.
Suckie.
In today’s blog, I introduce a new character dubbed EB because he has the energy of the Energizer Bunny. EB is a woodsman and an athlete. He hikes. He hunts. He runs. He rock climbs. With his background, one would think he could survive a weekend fieldtrip to retrieve radio collars without any major catastrophes.
Alas, EB may have boundless energy, but he is not a Weeble. So when he was hiking through steep and rugged country and slipped, he not only wobbled, he fell down. Hard.
And landed himself in the hospital…
With no radio collar to show for his effort.
Suckie.
Monday, March 5, 2012
Oh Shit!
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.
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, 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.
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