Phinizy Swamp

After a day of unceasing rain, Sunday morning looked sunny and promising. I made my way to Phinizy swamp, a local nature preserve Southeast of town. The place was deserted, just how I like it and bird calls filled the air. With binoculars in hand, I walked the boardwalk crossing over baldcypress swamp and was overwhelmed by the number of bird species flying, swimming, and wading about. This was a place I could spend hours in, reacquainting myself with Eastern birds and taking in the Southern, moss-covered charm of the scene. After crossing the swamp, a series of trails and roads surround a patchwork of open ponds and canals. On one of these land bridges stood a great blue heron with a mouthful: a huge freshly caught fish for breakfast. I anticipated turtles and was not disappointed - an adult pond slider basked on a patch of flattened cattails at the pond edge. Another leathery face popped in and out of the water nearby. Though I would have liked to continue this meandering through wetlands full of activity, the rain returned in heavy streams. I took my time getting back regardless and was rewarded with a red-shouldered hawk fly-by and close-up views of an Eastern bluebird and yellow-bellied sapsucker. I was at least grateful I had left my camera in the car which would have been soaked, but next time I will capture the essence of the place.

The Phantom Tortoise

Let me give you an idea of what is going on here in Georgia:
We leave in the morning for Fort Gordon where each day we wait in a ridiculous line to enter the base. That is, we enter the base after they make us get out of our truck, brandish ID's and allow them to engage in a laughable search of our vehicle (laughable becase we have in the back seat three large black Pelican cases of equipment which doesn't seem to attract their attention whatsoever and have never asked us to open them...but you better have the hood up for engine inspection!). Next, we head to range control to make sure the training areas we plan on working in are closed so as to avoid any unwanted gunfire and the like. Then we commence with the searching. Unfortunately our high-tech gps equipment has been malfunctioning from the get-go, so that means line-transects the old fashioned way. See what happens when you depend on the latest and greatest technology? Surveying on Fort Gordon is like a walk in the park: Flat, generally non-brushy land with long-leaf pine stands, sunny skies and helicopters?...we came across a random helicopter in the middle of the woods today, which I will say was a first for me. The only problem, and it's kind of a big one- no tortoises! We've come across one occupied burrow and a handful of unoccupieds during our pilot surveys. Depending on the goal of the project, low turn-out can be expected, but seeing as our goal was to use line-distance theory to estimate tortoise population size on the base the lack of tortoises means no data with which to calculate an estimate. The calculations simply don't work with a small sample size. Time for a new plan...we're going to concentrate our efforts on the historically active areas of the base next week and see what we can come up with. If we get more no shows, no more project. Eeek, sounds scary, but not so much. This would mean a relocation to the Jones Center in Newton, GA where I would help out with any other projects they currently have going. Could mean some amphibian work which is something I would LOVE to get experience with. I'll find out more next week after we searh our little hearts out for the phantom gopher tortoise.

Detour

A testament to life's unpredictability:
Instead of cruising my way through the Big Easy, spending the holidays in sunny Florida, I'm watching the snow fall on the streets of Chicago. I won't get into why I'm here, but I am glad for it. I leave after New Years for Augusta.

Move #...who am I kidding, I lost count long ago

Two more days of work, two days of packing, a week on the road. That's the plan. Work is so dull I can barely stand it. I'm hoping my life's possessions haven't increased much and still fit in my ford focus. I like being able to fit my life in a car, and a small one at that. How many people can say that? The trip includes stops in the Mojave desert, Albuquerque, Lubbock, New Orleans, a week or so in Tallahassee and concludes with my solo departure to Augusta, GA. There's a lot of miles to cover, this being my longest road-trip to date. Approximate grand total: 3,306. Some people don't travel that in a lifetime. It doesn't pay to stay in one place, no matter how comfortable you are. You don't learn much about the world, about yourself unless you face the unknown once in awhile.

So what unknown am I facing this time? Well, I've had enough of the hippie West, so I'm taking a spin in the diirrrty South. I will spend a brief time (2.5 months) in Augusta, GA surveying Gopher tortoises on an army base. The Gopher tortoise is so named because of their impressive burrowing capacity. They are generally not active in winter, remaining deep in their burrows (and I mean deep, these things can be ten feet underground in a burrow up to 40ft long). What my job will entail is locating the burrow, and fishing a camera scope down the length of it to determine occupancy. The real exciting thing is this: Gopher tortoise burrows are an essential part of the local environment and are utilized by an array of mammal, reptile, and amphibian species (and one owl). In examining these burrows, I might see any number of Southeastern natives: it's like an animal grab-bag.

In addition to packing for this excursion, I have been seeking out a place to be in the world after I'm done traipsing the Georgian wilds. School is my main goal by years end. I have some prospects, which will hopefully materialize into solid plans by the time I get to Georgia. I'll keep everyone posted.

Backpacking the blues away

Since Taylor and I were both feeling the itch for an outdoor excursion, we decided to take a short backpacking trip along the Lost Coast. For those that aren't familiar, the Lost Coast is a huge portion of undeveloped coastline along Northern Mendocino county and Southern Humbolt county. There are over 20 miles of trail to explore, but tackling the whole thing is a bit more endeavor than we had time for. So, we decided on a short over-nighter through some of the tougher parts. The difficulty came from several ascents and descents crossing gulches that carve the steep coastal cliffs. As is usually the case, the views were worth the climb.

The hike reminded me that only a year ago I had the luxury of doing this for a living and with that thought came a pang of sadness that lasted not more than a microsecond as I took in the fresh air and sights. Anyone who has gone on a hike with me, especially after I've suffered the suffocating lack of significant outdoor exposure, can tell you my change in mood is drastically noticeable. My mother can even see it in pictures. These places, these things I do, the creatures I encounter fill me up until I feel like I might burst. See, this is me right before I exploded with joy:

We camped at Anderson gulch, watched the sun set behind the cliffs and sink below the Pacific. And whaddya know, a spotted owl announced the arrival of nightfall with a few calls and crow barks. After packing up the following morning, I decided to examine the stream before we began our strenuous hike back. Lo and behold, there is the animal I've been hoping to see ever since I first moved to Mendocino county in 2007: a Pacific giant salamander. It was still a larva, having yet to reach its impressive, near foot-long adult form, but I still found it thrilling.

On our way out, we were sure to revisit the mushroom patch we discovered on the way in. And this was no mere mushroom patch, let me tell you, this was the motherload...the jackpot of all chanterelle patches. If we had been so inclined, we could have hauled three-four bags full of the biggest yellow chanterelles I've ever seen. But seeing as neither Taylor nor myself were feeling particularly greedy, we selected enough to fill a bag and left the rest to nature. Maybe a passing bear will make a hefty meal out of what we left behind. After a discovery like this, we caught the mushroom hunting bug and have since been scouring the forest surrounding our home. The past couple weeks we have been eating like kings: dishes you would pay $15, $20, even $30 for in some stuffy, upscale restaurant. Sauteed chicken and chanterelles in a white wine tarragon sauce, fresh crab (caught that day by Andy) and pasta with chanterelles in a cream sauce, pig's ear mushroom burgers, cream of chanterelle soup...I don't think I will ever eat this good again in my life. But aside from the edible varieties, our "backyard" holds a multitude of strangely-shaped, brightly colored, unusually textured mushrooms. One of my favorites is what's called an earthstar. This other-worldly looking thing picture here. If you touch it in anyway, it shoots out a whispy puff of spores from the small opening on top its bulbous center.

So this is fall in Mendocino, actually winter is pretty much the same except wetter. I'm excited to be spending the holidays here again, but after December, you better believe I'm looking to split. We'll see how my interview goes. Here's hoping I'll be Georgia-bound come 2010.

Plans

Or lack thereof, I should say. Solid plans elude me. I reach, like a coral polyp's tentacle, seeking even the smallest morsel in the expanse of sea surrounding me. The water offers no reward this time of year. And so I hunger...

I'm not sure I can find the patience to remain at the winery until the seas become more plentiful. The spring bounty of wildlife work is so far from now. But in these limited times, what else is there to do but wait. I have one prospect, which would be my saving grace. But with the way my luck has been these days, I try not to get too hopeful.

Limbo Part 2

So after all that, I find out I wasn't selected for the very perfect desert tortoise grad project. True to my nature, I spent the evening acting like it was the end of the world. The next day I was skipping around the county fair concerned more about who was going to brave the "Zipper" with me before the night was through. I am a notorious over-reactor, but a quick re-bounder. I find it a good balance.

The search continues...