Scenes from a bog

The scene: I am following the Bird Expert through the bog on the way back from the study site, when suddenly he stops to pick something up.

"Ooh, a berry!" (pops it in his mouth) "Mmm, tasty."

We keep going. Three steps later, again he suddenly stops to pick something up.

"Aww, it's only a brown leaf. I thought it was a rodent dropping."

Yep, this guy was disappointed to not pick up poo. Mmm-hmm, he's told me all about his precious dung collection before, including the time he found his first caribou feces and put it in his (then future, now ex) in-laws' lunch cooler (turns out the sample wasn't as dry as he thought, and in the warm day it melted into their lunch...go figure, they were not impressed).

Have I mentioned I'm happy to be home?

The Slack-ass Naturalist Chronicles 4: Bird Calls

Well, the husband's decided that watching a double-feature of horrendous Japanese vampire movies is better than watching nothing. I beg to differ, but hey, to each his own. Gives me time to compose a rare blog entry.

So, in an effort to become a passable "bird expert" for work, I've been trying to learn to identify birds by their songs. There are loads of tapes and computer programs out there, and field guides often give a written description of bird songs (yeah, like that's helpful.) It's not easy to learn this stuff...frustratingly, a lot of warblers sound a hell of a lot alike. But it has been interesting.

Birders have come up with some rather hilarious mnemonics to remember calls by. For example, the Barred Owl has a rather shrill call which sounds vaguely like, "Who cooks for you? Who cooks for you all?". The Olive-sided Flycatcher has a whistled call that, if you use your imagination, sounds like, "Quick! Three beers!" (That's not to be confused with the Common Nighthawk, which just says "Beer" in a rather nasally tone.) The Common Eider call is written as "oooooOOOOOOooooo," and sounds remarkably like a pleasantly surprised cartoon duck. It cracks me up.

Sometimes, you just make up your own mnemonic devices as you go. For example, to me, the Nelson's Sharp-tailed Sparrow is "that bird that sounds like a door opening on the USS Enterprise". The Black-throated Green Warbler is the "Hockey Night in Canada bird" because its call reminds me of that ubiquitous "DUH DUH duh duh DUH!" organ refrain played during NHL games. And the Leach's Storm Petrel sounds exactly like a mouse making fake motorcycle noises. Seriously, it's too cute. I wish I knew how to link sounds onto this blog thingy. You should do a search for these bird calls if you're bored.

Okay, ass-stupid vampire movies are over, and so is this nerdy little musing. Cheers!

Well, if I was losing my religion before....

Recently, the bishop of my local Roman Catholic Diocese of Antigonish announced a groundbreaking $15 million compensation package to victims of sexual abuse in the church. Though I haven't considered myself a Catholic for many years (I'm a firm agnostic, if there's such a thing), I was brought up by a very Catholic mom, and was kind of glad to see the local RCs actually taking some positive action on this issue.

Last week, this same bishop announced his resignation, saying he needed time for "personal renewal." Some speculated it was related to the compensation package; indeed, I kind of wondered whether he was muscled out by higher-level officials in the church for making such a grand gesture to abuse victims.

But no.

Today, it was announced that the ex-bishop has been arrested for distributing and selling child pornography. His laptop was randomly searched at Customs two weeks ago, and that's when they found the evidence.

Ugh. My poor mom must be heartbroken. I'm sure she'll keep her faith in the Church, and in a way I'm glad for her that she finds comfort in it, but I'm more than a little disgusted with them right now. How does this keep on happening? Can it even be fixed?

Saturday morning, coming down....

Argh, I've been up since 6:00 after a measly 5 hours' sleep. Don't know how I managed to get any sleep at all, actually, because I'm still feeling all twitchy and caffeinated after yesterday's binge. But after a long day of fairly strenuous work, I didn't want to take any chances--getting jacked up on Double Blast coffee from Irving, plus (my latest long-distance driving vice) a couple of coffee-flavoured energy drinks, seemed like a better option than getting drowsy while driving the moose-infested roads of New Brunswick. Goddamned moose.

Anyway, frustrating sleep deprivation aside, I'm pretty psyched. Had an awesome week of work, electrofishing with a couple of colleagues from one of our New Brunswick offices. I was a little nervous about this project, because although I really enjoy electrofishing, I'd never worked with these guys in the field. I had met one of them before, and he seemed nice in an office setting, but that's no guarantee. But damned if they weren't among the most easy-going, hard-working, actually-know-what-they're-doing couple of people I've ever worked with.

And they felt the same way about me and told me so, which was really lovely to hear (especially considering that I managed to get horribly lost on my way to meet them at the work site one day, delaying our start by almost an hour. I kind of figured they'd be a little annoyed with me after that, but they were super understanding.) Whew.

Got to see a very good friend and former receptionist from our office (who left to pursue a motherfreakin' PhD in mathematics--amazing gal!). We had a lovely evening--she fed me the first homecooked meal that I'd had all week (yay!), I got to see her adorable kiddies, and we had a really nice catching up session. Also had a visit with my little cousin Steve (OK, he's 28...I guess I should stop calling him my "little cousin") who is stationed at the nearby military base, and who is so much like my father it's kind of funny--right down to the crazy-ass sense of humour and somewhat excessive fondness for drinking.

And this weekend, I'm staying in Halifax where I'm visiting my cousin and favourite fellow biology geek Beth, *and* meeting up with a certain temporary Nova Scotian Pajiban! Possibly even more than one temporary Nova Scotian Pajiban, actually--lordhelmet and I are definitely hanging out (look out, used bookstores of downtown Halifax!), and if Celery's around town, we may manage to meet up with her too. *psst* Hey Eyvi, you're next, lady!

Then it's off to do more shorebird surveys with my least favourite bird person. Ah well, it's only two days.

And then, finally, back home to see my lovely husband. Actually, I may see him sooner, because he wants to come visit me here in Halifax tonight. Argh, it just seems ridiculous to me for him to drive all the way here (five hours from home) just to be together for one night, then turn around and drive back tomorrow. I'm going to be home in less than a week, it's not like we're going to be apart for an eternity! Besides, I'm going to want to do stuff here in Halifax that he won't want to do--Beth wants us to go plant shopping, and I want to visit some relatives that I know he doesn't particularly enjoy visiting...I explained all of this to him, but I'm still not sure whether or not he's coming. Dammit, I'm kind of liking my solo adventure. Oh well, it will be nice to see him. *sigh* Silly, silly boy.

Okay, it's too late to try to go back to sleep, so I'm off to freshen up for the exciting day ahead. Maybe a nice shower will clear my buzzing brain....

Well, if I survive this, I guess I can work with anybody.

So, I survived the first round of surveys with the bird expert, and am very grateful to be back with my lovely office-mates. Bird guy wasn't too creepy this time around, just tedious. In fact, if I hadn't had such a bad first encounter with him, I mightn't have minded him at all this time, but you know how once a person gets so firmly on your bad side, they can do or say nothing without it grating on your nerves? Yeah, it's like that. And I'm going to be working with him on at least six more surveys. *sigh*

Anyway, apparently I hid my distaste fairly well, because at the end of our last day, he casually remarked that I "didn't seem as put off by him as I did the first time we worked together," as though he thought it was entirely my problem that I didn't get his sense of humour back then.

My terse response: "Uhh...well, sometimes it just takes a while to figure out how to take a person, I guess."

What I was screaming in my mind while visualizing throttling him with his binocular straps: "THAT'S BECAUSE YOU DIDN'T TALK ABOUT THE SIZE OF YOUR PENIS THIS TIME! OR YOUR FATHER'S PENIS! OR DEAD, PUTREFYING CORPSES BOBBING ALONG MERRILY IN THE GODDAMNED BROOK! YOU BIG, STUPID FUCKING OAF!!!"

Godtopus give me strength....

(Although, speaking of strength, I do think the 3 hours of walking in a bog every time we do these surveys is going to do wonders for my legs. Oh, and the walking is so tough that the bird expert doesn't talk much while we're walking to and from the study site. There, a silver lining.)

From the Captain’s Quarters

Another week, another business trip! Tonight, I’m coming to you live from the Seawind Landing Country Inn on the shores of Guysborough County, Nova Scotia. Okay, not “live,” actually—there’s no internet in my room, so I’m typing this to upload sometime tomorrow. There is internet in the common room, if you sit within about 3 metres of the wireless unit. I had to climb over a Bernese Mountain Dog to get to a seat with wireless. They’re a well-named breed; it was almost like scaling a small mountain! But Beaufort was a great sport about it, barely blinking as I hauled myself into the chair and tried to resist the urge to use him as a footrest. What a sweetheart! I’m a cat person, but I still want to take him home with me!

Frankly, I was grateful to have any wireless access at all, seeing as there’s no cell service here. And we can only make land line calls from the front desk phone, ‘cause the room phones are on a party line, so anyone can listen in. I was starting to feel very isolated! But I did have a chance to pop on briefly, inform Mr. meaux that I’d arrived in one piece (after a 4-hour drive on dark country roads I’d never been on before), and make some tentative plans for a mini-Pajibacon after work tomorrow (lordhelmet and meaux 2: Electric Boogaloo. Yay!). [Update: due to long field day, Minibacon ain't happening tonight. Wednesday it is!]

So, communication issues aside, I rather like these digs. It’s a lovely old inn; the rooms have tons of personality, and they have names, too! I was supposed to get one of the cheap rooms (though even the “cheap” rooms here are more expensive than the project manager would have liked—lucky for me, it was the only place to stay that was reasonably close to the study site. Score!). But because it was more convenient for the innkeepers, instead of the cheap room, I’ve been put in “The Captain’s Quarters.” Freakin’ sweet! Whirlpool tub? Check. Ocean view? (listens to the sound of waves gently crashing on rocks) Mm-hmm. The smell of something amazing baking, possibly some kind of herby/cheesy bread? Oh my, yes. Super comfy bed and cushy loveseat for sitting in and typing a blog entry? Check and double check!

Yes, the accommodations are lovely. The work…well, the work’s not bad—I like doing bird surveys just fine, especially when it’s along a nice scenic coastline. However, do you happen to recall from my previous post, the bird expert who liked to overshare? Yeah…I’m working with him again. *sigh* Ah well, I can deal. I have actually worked with him since that first time, and discovered that if you know what to expect (and how to avoid letting the conversation steer into awkward territory), he’s manageable.

I’d love some better company, but meanwhile, I’ll take what I can from the experience—the more I learn from this dude, the closer I become to being an adequate bird surveyor myself. However, I must admit that the thought of becoming a bird expert scares me a little, as most of the really skilled birders I know are, quite frankly, more than a little bit odd in one way or another. Do I want to be "one of them"??

Well, it's closing in on midnight, and I’d best wrap this up and try to get some sleep. I don’t know if that's going to happen any time soon, as I'm a little overcaffeinated…I just couldn't NOT try that damned Starbucks energy drink concoction I saw in the gas station refrigerator, in addition to the two large coffees I had on the journey, and two more large coffees earlier in the day. GAH!!! No wonder this entry is so rambly. Beg pardon. Okay, I’m cutting myself off now. (Dammit, this is exactly how I get when I'm leaving a phone message…oh, how I hate leaving messages….) OKAY! Say good night, Maureen!

'Til next time, folks.

Field Tales

Ahh, a successful and enjoyable field experience has come to an end. Well, "enjoyable" is a relative term--I could've done without the pain and exhaustion and wet, soggy feet every single day--but the company was great. Never underestimate the value of a good field partner in making any job seem bearable. This particular chap was a fellow bird geek, smart and knowledgeable (but not a know-it-all), and interested to learn the few things I was able to teach him. Also, relentlessly cheerful and able to maintain a sense of humour even as we were slogging through the dampest, dewiest chest-high vegetation. Couldn't have asked for better! I tend to worry when I'm asked to work with someone I've never met before, because I've had some...interesting luck in that department.

Exhibit A: a chap from Ontario, sent down to do stream habitat surveys with me. Buddy would not stop talking, making himself sound like an expert on every freakin' subject, not listening to anything I might have to contribute. I actually bought his know-it-all schtick for a while, until the day he commented that "You sure have a lot of sickly yellow conifers here in Nova Scotia. Something must be wrong with them." This was in November--our "sickly yellow" conifers were perfectly healthy tamarack trees. Their needles turn yellow prior to falling off in the fall. Every year. Same as they do in Ontario. Argh--nothing worse than an insufferable know-it-all who doesn't! But wait, there's....

Exhibit B: a guy from New Brunswick who was actually rather nice, but a complete and utter downer. Nothing I could say would lighten his mood. Mind you, we started on the wrong foot--thanks to some miscommunication, he had the impression we only needed him for a few days, when it was actually about 2 weeks. Okay, I couldn't begrudge him feeling a bit bummed about that. But two solid weeks of being stuck with a cheerless, mopey Eeyore? Well, I ran out of sympathy for him awfully fast, as I was using all my available pity on myself. Try maintaining a positive attitude when the only person you interact with all day long won't acknowledge the up side of anything. It ain't easy. But still, it beats the hell out of....

Exhibit C: the hired bird expert whom I was assisting. When we met for the first time, at the start of our field expedition, we started off talking about mutual friends and acquaintances in the local birdwatching community. Then, small talk: seen any good movies lately? What TV shows do you like? He expressed a dislike of Family Guy, on account of the raunchy humour...I thought to myself, "okay, he's maybe a bit of a prude, but that's fine."

Cut to that evening, over dinner. The teenagers at the next table led the birder to talk about his own puberty 35 or so years ago...and how it was especially difficult for him, because (oh jeebus, I cringe to type it) any time he'd get a boner in class, he had a hard time hiding it 'cause it was so large.

Oh, and later during that same dinner...and I have NO recollection of how the conversation went here...he told me about when he was a kid and saw his father's penis for the first time, he thought it was huge--"like an elephant's," to be exact. Of course, he was quick to add that he later learned that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

Sooo, that was the first day of a two-week stint working with this person. Alone. In the woods. Cue uncontrollable shuddering....Oddly, though, I didn't have the impression that any of this talk was intended to shock (or entice) me. I honestly think something in his mind-to-mouth filter mechanism is just broken. His social interaction system seems off, as further evidenced by the time that we happened upon an oddly tied garbage bag in a stream several days into the field program.

Birder dude decided that the bag almost certainly contained a body--after all, he was quick to share, in his 30 years of field work he'd found a few human bodies. He proceeded to tell me in detail why he was so sure about the bag: "See how that rope's tied there, around what's got to be the neck? And judging by the size, I'd say it's a little kid. Or maybe a dog. And it probably just floated downstream recently, 'cause it's all bloated after a few days of putrefying." Meanwhile, while not convinced it was a body, I was at the same time freaked out and trying desperately to change the topic ("Hey, what's that call, a waterthrush?"), or at least to signal to him that I didn't need all the detail, but he was absolutely fixated.

By the way, we reported the garbage bag to the local police that afternoon. It turned out to contain...drumroll please...motherfucking GARBAGE.

Anyway, in the spirit of No Whining Wednesdays, I should point out that even these horror stories have a silver lining. I would never have these crazy-ass tales to tell my scandalized friends and office mates if I hadn't worked with these people!