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 This is NOT peer-reviewed.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.

Monday, March 28, 2011

Sometimes I make stupid decisions. Sometimes I don't. Sometimes I have no idea.

Wildlife biologists do a lot of stupid shit in the name of conservation. I had the opportunity to go into a bear den this week, but declined for many reasons. You tell me. Did I make the right decision?

Had I gone, this is what my weekend would’ve looked like:

Day 1: Ten-hour drive by myself to the field site. Meet up with the crew.

Day 2: One-hour drive. One-hour snowmobile ride (I hate snowmobiles as much as I hate snowshoes). Three-hour snowshoe. Roughly two hours of (really freak'n cool) work. Three-hour snowshoe. One-hour snowmobile ride. One-hour drive.

Day 3: Ten-hour drive home…

And one GIANT carbon footprint for the so-called wildlife/conservation biologist.
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