Don't mind me, just getting a little R&R before heading into work today. It seems to be the week of late starts. On Tuesday, I woke up half an hour late, today I slept in until 8.
Don't worry, I'm not late for work, I'm taking the morning to recover from our recent trip to Delaware.
On Tuesday, Fred and I loaded up the truck with the hydrologic equipment and our overnight bags to go to the Prime Hook NWR to do some flow measurements.
Prime Hook is in the middle of a crisis, so let me give you the quick and dirty history. Prime Hook was established to give water fowl an appropriate habitat, something the Fish and Wildlife Service held as one of its higher priorities however many years ago. To do this, they took a large section of salt water marsh along the Delaware Bay and converted it into a fresh water marsh. As I'm sure you've guessed, this has caused some problems.
In recent years, storms, flooding, and the sinking marsh has allowed the salt water from the bay to begin to creep into the refuge. The management is now dealing with a massive issue: much of the vegetation is dying from salt water intrusion, the water has the potential to disrupt neighboring agricultural activities, and the water fowl have half a mind to take off as the area is taken over. The breach where the salt water has entered the fresh impoundments would be expensive to repair, and the solution would really only be a temporary one, as another storm could cause this same series of events all over.
So that's where Fred and I come in. Due to the huge potential for negative effects in the nearby communities and the difficult management decisions a head, there's been a call to create a hydrologic model of the place to establish how and when whatever water can be controlled. So on Tuesday, we drove the four hours up to the refuge and tried to scope things out.
The biggest challenge for us was the fact that the water monitoring at the site has been minimal and relatively inconsistent. Whatever data has been collected has not been utilized, so its Fred's idea to go in, standardize the measuring process, and build that long term record.
Another problem: Prime Hook is a tidal system, which basically triples the amount of work we have to do. The main goal: to establish the relationship between the water level and amount of water moving either in or out of the system at any given tidal moment.
Hefty, right? So we took a couple measurements at some structures while trying to give the rundown of the equipment use to the biologist and seasonal biotech at that refuge.
That first night, I also got the chance to survey horseshoe crabs. I don't know if you've ever seen these crabs, but they're jurassic looking creatures, more related to scorpions than other crabs. Regardless, they're a vital part of any ecosystem in which shore birds are present, because they're an important food source to those birds. The Red Knot is a federally listed species of shore bird, and these crabs are a big part of their diet.
Anyway, it probably wasn't wise to go, because it was a 1030-11 pm exercise. It's the end of the season, so there weren't huge numbers present, but I did get to count a few. It was nice, we walked along the shore, the waves lapping at my feet as we walked and cast the quad into the water. It was breezy, which kept it cool and bugless, and the water's hushed rhythms made the entire experience quite pleasant. So in one evening, I went from having never seen the animal to knowing a brief life cycle and distinguishing the difference between male and female.
Yesterday morning was a struggle, after having stayed out past my bedtime. We did more of the same measurements, and also tried to put down some markers at the breach.
This... was hard work. Fred, the biotech, and I walked out (I finally had a pair of waders that fit!) along the sand and shore and stopped to mark a point on a gps while taking velocity measurements of the water moving through the breach. The sand was deceptive. I would go from walking comfortably on the hard, concretelike sand to sinking knee deep in muck in a matter of steps. My little legs waddled as fast as I could as I scribbled times and velocities in my field notebook. I'm not looking forward to doing this during high tide. Not at all.
On the way back I started feeling the effects of the heat. There wasn't much of a breeze coming in from the water, and it was in the nineties. Think about this for a moment- I was out for two hours with the sun beating down, I was wearing hiking pants and a polo. I was wearing chest waders. I was wearing my wool hiking socks. Needless to say, the trip back was slow, with frequent stops so I could clamp down on the slight nausea and the slow pounding that was starting in my head. I hadn't thought to bring water from the truck because I hadn't expected to go as far as we did.
After crawling back to the truck, I took off my waders to exchange them for flip flops and discovered that my calves had been dripping with sweat. I am not a sweaty person, I am far too dainty and ladylike, but after that walk my sweat had sweat, and even my sweat's sweat was uncomfortable. My shirt was totally damp and nasty, and when we got back to the refuge, I practically shotgunned a bottle of water. It took a while for my flushed face to turn to a normal color, and my farmer's tan has become extreme and very impressive. As I sat inside, chugging water, I would go from full- body goosebumps to feeling like a baked potato. When I rinsed my face I decided I never wanted to go outside again.
Yet I'm glad I did it. More than anything, I'm glad I pushed myself and I'm glad I didn't pass out because of it. I'm also thankful Fred wasn't around to see how pitiful I am. But! I know what to expect when I return, and can be better prepared. I know that it won't get much worse than that, and I know that several gallons of coke and water and some sleeping in will make me feel as good as new.
Oh, and I'm driving up Sunday so I can be up at 4 am for a bird survey that starts at 5. It's nothing I exactly have to do, but it's something I want to try. Now is as good a time as any.
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