Part 2

Even in the dark we know where we're going. I see as clear as day the perfect interwoven network of roads that sprawl across this desert landscape. I pour over these maps so often that they are etched in my mind, always available to reference. Past the gate, second left, follow the fence around the hill, bare a sharp right out of the wash, take the right fork towards the center of plot 2. We park, each take the leak we've been holding in throughout the bumpy hour ride, and assemble our gear. I purposely carry as much as I know I can manage and still maintain a quick pace, which given the size of me is far more than you would ever imagine.

My backpack has 3 liters of water, a digital camera in a pelican case, 8ft of measuring tape, spare handheld devices in case anyone's equipment goes awry, a roll of duct tape, a tube or two of putty epoxy, metal tags with numbers etched into them, ziploc bag of latex gloves, small flashlights, a spotting mirror, and a binder full of datasheets. I sling over my shoulder a second bag which would be used by any other person as a tackle box as it was intended but today it is full of 4-5 100mL containers of sterile saline, various syringes, needles of several lengths and gauges, bleach pads, alcohol and iodine wipes, ziploc bags containing everything one might need to collect tissue samples from a tort, flagging, instant freeze packs, hospital grade sanitizer, needle nosed pliers, even more latex gloves, and a tray for holding vials. In one hand I grab a small cooler full of ice, more sterile saline, heparinized needles (needles coated with heparin to prevent blood clotting), and a rainbow assortment of vials filled with various bacterial growth media. I must look ridiculous. Thus adorned, I feel like someone cranked up the gravity. This is not only my job, it is my daily workout session. Whenever I hike in my spare time I feel like I should throw rocks in my bag. Everything is too light, it just feels wrong.

My comrades unfurl an antenna, three prongs on each side, about three feet across. They punch in the numbers that will lead us to our first tortoise. Every single time you punch in a frequency you feel a sense of dread, you hold your breath as you lift the antenna high in the air. Will there be a beep? Or will you have to haul your lab-on-the-go up some ridiculous hill in hopes that your signal carries far enough to locate this mobile bastard of a tortoise. Eureka! A nice strong beep. Not far to go. A kit fox nearby stares with shining blue eyes at our awkward troop and follows us for a ways to see what hi jinx we are up to. A deep red sliver is starting to appear on the horizon. Suddenly the silhouettes of hills, boulders, and joshua trees surround us. A few coyote yip, yap, and howl in the distance. We soak it in, knowing that these are our last moments of cool, comfortable temperatures. The moment the sunlight breaches the horizon, the effects are instantaneous. The temperatures climb and climb, relentlessly.