I finally went for that bike ride! The thing that got me out the door was the fact that on Friday evening, I resorted to eating nutella straight from the jar while watching Family Feud. That night I also went to bed at 5:30pm, so I figured I should be a little more decent.
Yesterday I also stuffed myself at the Norfolk farmer's market. That grass-fed pork and those organic tomatoes made for one serious BLT. Also, there's a baker there that's got the golden touch. Ugh, those cookies, like heaven... the buttercream frosting...
Stopping.
Anyway, farmer's market. Used book store. Bike ride!
Riding a bicycle is my favourite means of transportation. Rolling down the road, gravel or pavement or dirt, I feel like I could go anywhere, as far as I wanted to where ever I wanted. It's an exercise that makes me wonder at the human body. As legs pump pedals and push forward, cell cycles turn in my head. The tired ache after a good ride is always welcome.
So I headed out to feel these things, to see what the refuge was like when I didn't have to work, when I didn't have a pane of glass between me and the green. Headed out towards Railroad ditch, an early burn started up in the side of my thighs and in my lungs. I guess I should have realized after a two month break from my wheels I'd be a little rusty. But I went ahead, the air was perfect for a ride. Cool, but not cold. The humidity left only a mild film of sweat on my skin, which was comfortable at my speed.
The swamp seemed so much more alive- I was able to get closer to the animals before they took off into the brush. I could see the marks left on the gravel by the hooves of a doe I startled coming down the road. Bird and bugs alike sounded crisper, and the colors brighter.
As I went, I studied the landscape, seeking the blues in the greens and the reds in the browns. I made picture frames with my fingers and captured the sun in my hands. The gravel made for difficult travel at first. Every time I would try to pick up speed I would hit a loose pocket and the back wheel would slide from under me.
I rode out to the lake as the shadows grew long and longer. I had set out a little before seven, and it took me forty minutes to ride the handful of miles to get there. I took my time, studying the vegetation growing up in the burned area on my sides. The dark brown flowers of the rushes looked like draped lace along the green of the grasses. Cattails speckled the view like pepper, and as I cruised I scared some wood ducks half to South America. They took off from the ditch, squawking and quaking as their little tails wiggled behind them.
I spent time at the lake on the board walk, watching the sun slowly sink into the sky. I crept up on a dragonfly with a wingspan as large as the span of my hand. It was bright green, and its translucent, veined wings were notched at the bottom, as if chewed up by life. I studied the hexagonal ommatidium, for a brief moment I thought I saw myself reflected in those lenses. I started when it flew away.
I raced the setting sun home, losing. Towards the end my ride was a little dark, the greens turned to greys and I jumped at every sound. It seemed like the bugs were especially fond of flying into my face the darker it got. By the time I made it back to the quarters, my hands were more sore than the rest of me, which was pleasantly surprising.
Today I made it out to Back Bay, the refuge in Virginia Beach. It's a coastal refuge, hugging the beach and beach communties. I'm staying in the Admin. building, and the building itself has been converted from a house, it sits on the side of a body of water. I've been entertaining thoughts of living in a house of similar size and grace. It's really, really nice.
I also got out to the beach, because I always get a little freaked out when I stay somewhere by myself. I hadn't intended on swimming, but I ended up rolling around in the water anyway. The people on the beach probably thought I was pretty strange, hanging out at the beach by myself. That's alright, I enjoyed myself just fine- it's been about a year since I've visited the beach properly. The spray of the water and the temperature was familiar. The feeling of sand and shell and sea grit under my feet reminded me of being in Panama City.
Tomorrow! I'll be at the refuge working with the biologists, and in the evening, the Americorps team might join me at the beach. Pictures to come!
Sunday, August 5, 2012
Friday, August 3, 2012
August (8/3)
The emails keep rolling in- deadlines for evaluations, and this project. My profile is up on the SCA's Follow Me blogging campaign. Each morning, I hit snooze one more time than I did the day before. Each evening, I eyeball the massive amount of stuff I've acquired and try to figure out how on earth I'm going to get it anywhere.
The end is near.
Though it's still too soon to start looking back and hammering up some nostalgia from my keyboard, because you see, I've got a lot to do still. With three weeks left, I haven't done near as much on the refuge as I thought I would. I haven't gone hiking (outside of work) yet, I haven't gone for a bike ride. I haven't even gone for a swim this summer- which is maybe why it hasn't really felt like summer. But, I'm an adult now, I'll be spending my time working and working on my atrocious tan (permanent shirts) instead of lounging around the house. Which is fine with me.
So what I'm getting to is- I have three full weeks left here at Great Dismal. I remember when I was three weeks in, and wondering where my time was flying. Now it's really starting to seem like it's been a while. I haven't been home since May, and I won't be home until October yet. I started my journey on May 28th (before six in the morning, I'd like to add) and I have a lot of road left to travel. I'm not slowing down yet, my goal for the summer was to keep my shoulders square, with minimal whining, with minimal tears (except I whine a lot here, sorry.) but I'm going to keep with it. I'm visiting a new refuge this weekend- for bird surveys and sea turtle nest sittings.
Today I finally got around to sitting in on the bird survey here at the refuge. I haven't been terribly active in pursuing activities with the biologist, just because it seemed like he hardly had enough for his intern to do. I enjoyed it, though. It was slow, and when I got there, they had been measuring a prothonotary warbler. In the hours I stayed, we only caught one more bird in the nets.
One was enough, though. I watched as Don measured the wings and examined the feathers, echoing the terms and jargon in my head as he recorded his observations on his forms. The other bird was a juvenile towhee, a small little sparrow with brown feathers. Once he had finished measuring, he asked if I wanted to let him go. With the poorly concealed excitement of a little girl, I carefully wrapped my hands around the delicate creature, holding his head between my fingers and cupping his body in both hands.
The towhee's feet scrabbled on my palm as it twisted around anxiously. It was warm in my hands, and I could feel his tiny heart beating rapidly under the pads of my fingers, beneath the smooth plumage of its belly and breast. I gazed vacantly at Don and his intern as they tried to tell me how to release it, telling me not to just chuck it into the air. Though I hadn't intended to fling it anywhere, my heart was racing as quick as the bird's. After a moment of them talking at me from both sides, I looked down at the little thing and its little beak and its little brown eyes.
I opened my hands as if I were making an offer to the trees, and with a flurry and a flutter, the bird took off into the brush, with a bright cry of "towwww-heeee."
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| Earliest signs of fall? |
The end is near.
Though it's still too soon to start looking back and hammering up some nostalgia from my keyboard, because you see, I've got a lot to do still. With three weeks left, I haven't done near as much on the refuge as I thought I would. I haven't gone hiking (outside of work) yet, I haven't gone for a bike ride. I haven't even gone for a swim this summer- which is maybe why it hasn't really felt like summer. But, I'm an adult now, I'll be spending my time working and working on my atrocious tan (permanent shirts) instead of lounging around the house. Which is fine with me.
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| The warbler. |
So what I'm getting to is- I have three full weeks left here at Great Dismal. I remember when I was three weeks in, and wondering where my time was flying. Now it's really starting to seem like it's been a while. I haven't been home since May, and I won't be home until October yet. I started my journey on May 28th (before six in the morning, I'd like to add) and I have a lot of road left to travel. I'm not slowing down yet, my goal for the summer was to keep my shoulders square, with minimal whining, with minimal tears (except I whine a lot here, sorry.) but I'm going to keep with it. I'm visiting a new refuge this weekend- for bird surveys and sea turtle nest sittings. |
| Caught! Unharmed, but nervous. |
Today I finally got around to sitting in on the bird survey here at the refuge. I haven't been terribly active in pursuing activities with the biologist, just because it seemed like he hardly had enough for his intern to do. I enjoyed it, though. It was slow, and when I got there, they had been measuring a prothonotary warbler. In the hours I stayed, we only caught one more bird in the nets.
One was enough, though. I watched as Don measured the wings and examined the feathers, echoing the terms and jargon in my head as he recorded his observations on his forms. The other bird was a juvenile towhee, a small little sparrow with brown feathers. Once he had finished measuring, he asked if I wanted to let him go. With the poorly concealed excitement of a little girl, I carefully wrapped my hands around the delicate creature, holding his head between my fingers and cupping his body in both hands.
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| Examining the flight feathers. |
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| Moments before freedom. |
I opened my hands as if I were making an offer to the trees, and with a flurry and a flutter, the bird took off into the brush, with a bright cry of "towwww-heeee."
Thursday, August 2, 2012
Chinchilla (8/1)
On Tuesday, I got a text from my mom asking me to call her when I had the chance, so I did. Late Monday night, one of my dogs passed away. We all took it pretty hard, and I'm still pretty broken up. I know that for some people, it may not seem... important, but Ezio was a part of our family. He had quirks and a bright, happy personality. So it's hard not to be home with the rest of my family, we're all heartbroken.
Tuesday evening was rough- I called home, stayed up late flipping through pictures of my littledog and crying it out. On Wednesday, I was still on the verge of tears. Ocie had asked me if I was okay (I had called home from the office, and as a result, cried in the office) and when Fred asked me how I was doing I almost started crying again. So, not being 100%, I decided to not go into the field. I wanted to, I had planned on it. But when the intern that was to tag along started talking about how fancy his borrowed backpack was, I almost lost it- All I could think was You're talking about that sweatstained, grey backpack but my dog is dead. Everything seemed unimportant, so I stayed tucked away, out of sight, buried in my spreadsheets so that no one would talk to me.
But by midday I was itching to get outside. I felt trapped in the office, and my swollen eyes were grainy from crying and staring at the screen, so I wandered around, hoping someone needed help with something. The law enforcement officer and the forester were headed out to the Nansemond River NWR, and I decided to tag along.
Before we could leave Great Dismal, Officer Ross stopped by a couple of the refuge entrances to do his checks. We stopped halfway down the road entrance to Jericho Ditch, as an old four door came rolling by. With his superior observation skills, the officer asked if we saw the cage in the back of the car. He hunched down, talking about how the driver hadn't returned his friendly wave.
We turned to follow them as they headed towards the small parking lot and brochure racks. When we reached the lot, they had turned around and had started to tear out of the refuge. In the bushes, we saw a small grey shape scurrying around.
At first I thought it was a rabbit, with it's nubby noise and smooth fur, but I was wrong.
The nervous animal was in fact, a chinchilla.
For a moment we sat there, staring at this mysterious little creature (I wondered if I could keep it), then the officer punched the gas and tore after them, hitting 60 on the road that was a 15 mph limit to catch up with the driver.
After pulling the driver over, ticketing him for an "introduction of animal to a National Wildlife Refuge," and heading out, the jokes starting rolling. The boy driving was a year younger than I am, and he said he was getting rid of it because "The doctor said it couldn't be around my babymama while she's pregnant."
The three of us were really, really tempted to rescue the animal from being dumped somewhere else so that we could leave it as a gift to our biologist, and I regret not doing it. I can only imagine how his yells would bounce around in that cozy little office when he strolled in to see a Chinchilla at his computer.
We decided that maybe printing out a picture of the animal and labeling it as a new species known as the "squabbit" (combining squirrel and rabbit) and presenting it to the office. Snickering, our tale got larger on our way back to the headquarters, Bryan Poovey boasted that he had "Captured a suspicious person with 12 ounces of pure chinchilla," the other named the offender the "Chinchilla culprit." Later, Officer Ross recorded the chinchilla in the "animal sightings" log on the front desk.
By the time we got back to the office my face hurt from laughing so much, and I could hardly tell the story without cracking up. It was completely unexpected and bizarre, and exactly what I needed after losing someone so dear.
Tuesday evening was rough- I called home, stayed up late flipping through pictures of my littledog and crying it out. On Wednesday, I was still on the verge of tears. Ocie had asked me if I was okay (I had called home from the office, and as a result, cried in the office) and when Fred asked me how I was doing I almost started crying again. So, not being 100%, I decided to not go into the field. I wanted to, I had planned on it. But when the intern that was to tag along started talking about how fancy his borrowed backpack was, I almost lost it- All I could think was You're talking about that sweatstained, grey backpack but my dog is dead. Everything seemed unimportant, so I stayed tucked away, out of sight, buried in my spreadsheets so that no one would talk to me.
But by midday I was itching to get outside. I felt trapped in the office, and my swollen eyes were grainy from crying and staring at the screen, so I wandered around, hoping someone needed help with something. The law enforcement officer and the forester were headed out to the Nansemond River NWR, and I decided to tag along.
Before we could leave Great Dismal, Officer Ross stopped by a couple of the refuge entrances to do his checks. We stopped halfway down the road entrance to Jericho Ditch, as an old four door came rolling by. With his superior observation skills, the officer asked if we saw the cage in the back of the car. He hunched down, talking about how the driver hadn't returned his friendly wave.
We turned to follow them as they headed towards the small parking lot and brochure racks. When we reached the lot, they had turned around and had started to tear out of the refuge. In the bushes, we saw a small grey shape scurrying around.
At first I thought it was a rabbit, with it's nubby noise and smooth fur, but I was wrong.
The nervous animal was in fact, a chinchilla.
For a moment we sat there, staring at this mysterious little creature (I wondered if I could keep it), then the officer punched the gas and tore after them, hitting 60 on the road that was a 15 mph limit to catch up with the driver.
After pulling the driver over, ticketing him for an "introduction of animal to a National Wildlife Refuge," and heading out, the jokes starting rolling. The boy driving was a year younger than I am, and he said he was getting rid of it because "The doctor said it couldn't be around my babymama while she's pregnant."
The three of us were really, really tempted to rescue the animal from being dumped somewhere else so that we could leave it as a gift to our biologist, and I regret not doing it. I can only imagine how his yells would bounce around in that cozy little office when he strolled in to see a Chinchilla at his computer.
We decided that maybe printing out a picture of the animal and labeling it as a new species known as the "squabbit" (combining squirrel and rabbit) and presenting it to the office. Snickering, our tale got larger on our way back to the headquarters, Bryan Poovey boasted that he had "Captured a suspicious person with 12 ounces of pure chinchilla," the other named the offender the "Chinchilla culprit." Later, Officer Ross recorded the chinchilla in the "animal sightings" log on the front desk.
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
Charcoal (7/30)
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| Measurement site from last week. |
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| Exposed Cypress tree roots in the burn scar |
Over the weekend I managed to find myself a book store and an art supply. After bumming out, reading comics, and getting myself a new set of pens, I feel refreshed. I slept in and had a long chat with my mentor and with my youngest brother over the weekend, so I'm feeling pretty mellow.
So today, after hitting snooze once (or twice, or more) I crawled out of bed and started the week. I didn't know what the plan was, but the weather is a little cooler this week, so we had a day in the field.
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| Fire equipment for the small fire we had over the weekend |
Last week I spent a bunch of time working on some elevation spreadsheets, and today we went out to an area that burned in 2008 to continue the work. Before the fire that took out that section of forest, a few wells were installed and surveyed for elevations. To determine how much peat soil was lost in that fire, we went out to take some new elevations.
Oh, the walk was so much easier than those well runs. We had more to lug around, but (for me at least,) it wasn't terrible. The peat, instead of being mucky, crunched underfoot instead of sucking my feet into the earth. The fire had burned away the nutrients in the soil, leaving the ground and tree matter crunchy and blackened. By the end of the day, it looked like I had rolled around the bottom of a charcoal grill.
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| Palamedes Swallowtail- Thanks, Mao! |
At first I was nervous about falling- the charred wood that made up the slash trail looked soft and dangerous, and I was worried I would completely wipe out. I mean, I did a few times, but it was fine, because after I stumbled, all I had to do was stand back up.
I also only saw two blackberry bushes. I squashed them both.
We spent a little time at two different plots, surveying the elevation at two old wells. One had melted in the fire, and the other was in pretty good shape. Surveying was pretty straightforward, and in the open air, the sounds of frogs resounded as loudly as a symphonic concert.
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| Tree roots in a ditch bank. |
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| Out on the walk. |
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| These roots left my hands and legs completely black with soot. |
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| More of last week's measurement site. |
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| The fire burned everything away- leaving charcoal. |
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| Surveying and recording data for the burn! |
Thursday, July 26, 2012
The Homestretch (7 / 25)
I apologize for not posting much recently- between Prime Hook and my current exhaustion, I've been a little uninspired and at a general loss of things to say.
Earlier this week I was sick, nothing serious, just enough to make me miserable. When I drove myself to the clinic, I was completely delerious in my fever- the road made me nervous and unsure, and I felt like I wasn't making sense as I spoke with the people at the desk. I felt so warm that I was completely convinced I would combust on the spot. They told me to drink water and check my temperature and sent me away- scolding me for my addiction to coke zero.
Besides my sudden lack of physical fortitude, there are a number of things that are signalling the end of the summer. I find myself in the office more, putt-putting around until I feel guilty about receiving a paycheck and try to find something to do. I'm not sleeping as well, which isn't really surprising or a big deal. I cycle through these periods of sleeplessness as steadily as seasons, so the fact that I'm in the middle of a dry spell is a big indicator of the arrival of the homestretch.
This lack of restfullness is a really bad thing. I'm a completely different person when I get enough sleep. This isn't an exaggeration, for once: ask anyone. I'm terrible when I don't sleep. So now I'm turning into a version of myself I really dislike- my temper is shorter, I'm snarky, moody, selfish. Instead of being midly inconvenienced and amiable about the dirty dishes my housemates let pile up ('Oh, I'm sure they were just busy and will get to it') the sight of a single dirty utensil will drive me into fury. I mean- you just put your bowl in the dishwasher, you couldn't take the time to put ONE FORK in the wash? I feel like a maid, piling things I didn't dirty into the dishwasher over and over.
On top of my permanent scowl darkening the clubhouse, a few of the other interns have taken their own greivances to the airwaves. Complaining about the swamp, a lack of phone service, and the ac that doesn't blow quite how you want it won't make the end of your visit any better, it won't make the weeks go any faster.
And sure- having to stand in a heard of mosquitoes to make a splotchy, crackly phone call is not ideal, but at least I can talk to my family at all. I'm sorry you were thristy and forgot to put a Sprite in the fridge for you smouldering day in the office, but the heat index was 107 yesterday and there are people installing structures and fighting fires. (Not me, I've become so useless-but there were people in the heat all day, and you were thirsty? Alright.)
It's not about what you don't have, or how bad you think you have it- it's about acknowledging what privelege you do have and making the best.
I know I may be a little hypocritical with this post (duly acknowledged), but if I don't get these feelings of frustration out I swear I'll just burst. I'm more homesick than I've ever felt. I miss the company of my friends- the people that know when I'm joking and the people that can read the look on my face and call me out. The people that make absurd noises not because they have nothing better to fill the air with, but because our little group of bandits knows exactly when and who to sneak up behind.
I've never felt these degrees of homesickness. But I'm exhausted- I can't make any more small talk. I can't make awkward dinner conversation or be polite with those I don't care for. I'm tired of asking people where they're from, how they like the swamp. My lack of effort makes my apathy worse, which in turn has sent me spiralling into this terrible cycle of just...missing. My whole person aches for the familiar and the comforting.
This is how I know the homestretch has arrived. Plenty has happened this week- I drove a diesel around the refuge spraying for invasive Phragmites, I've met with USGS biologists and filled spreadsheets- but my head has been somewhere else. I want my skin to be the way it was when I arrived, unblemished by the violent swollen bites from the bugs and the harsh sun, and I want my mind to be as refreshed and anxious with excitement as it was when I first drove past that government brown sign and into summer.
I feel more mellow having gotten that out. Thanks for putting up with me, and wish me luck as I close out the last month of this curious summer.
Earlier this week I was sick, nothing serious, just enough to make me miserable. When I drove myself to the clinic, I was completely delerious in my fever- the road made me nervous and unsure, and I felt like I wasn't making sense as I spoke with the people at the desk. I felt so warm that I was completely convinced I would combust on the spot. They told me to drink water and check my temperature and sent me away- scolding me for my addiction to coke zero.
Besides my sudden lack of physical fortitude, there are a number of things that are signalling the end of the summer. I find myself in the office more, putt-putting around until I feel guilty about receiving a paycheck and try to find something to do. I'm not sleeping as well, which isn't really surprising or a big deal. I cycle through these periods of sleeplessness as steadily as seasons, so the fact that I'm in the middle of a dry spell is a big indicator of the arrival of the homestretch.
This lack of restfullness is a really bad thing. I'm a completely different person when I get enough sleep. This isn't an exaggeration, for once: ask anyone. I'm terrible when I don't sleep. So now I'm turning into a version of myself I really dislike- my temper is shorter, I'm snarky, moody, selfish. Instead of being midly inconvenienced and amiable about the dirty dishes my housemates let pile up ('Oh, I'm sure they were just busy and will get to it') the sight of a single dirty utensil will drive me into fury. I mean- you just put your bowl in the dishwasher, you couldn't take the time to put ONE FORK in the wash? I feel like a maid, piling things I didn't dirty into the dishwasher over and over.
On top of my permanent scowl darkening the clubhouse, a few of the other interns have taken their own greivances to the airwaves. Complaining about the swamp, a lack of phone service, and the ac that doesn't blow quite how you want it won't make the end of your visit any better, it won't make the weeks go any faster.
And sure- having to stand in a heard of mosquitoes to make a splotchy, crackly phone call is not ideal, but at least I can talk to my family at all. I'm sorry you were thristy and forgot to put a Sprite in the fridge for you smouldering day in the office, but the heat index was 107 yesterday and there are people installing structures and fighting fires. (Not me, I've become so useless-but there were people in the heat all day, and you were thirsty? Alright.)
It's not about what you don't have, or how bad you think you have it- it's about acknowledging what privelege you do have and making the best.
I know I may be a little hypocritical with this post (duly acknowledged), but if I don't get these feelings of frustration out I swear I'll just burst. I'm more homesick than I've ever felt. I miss the company of my friends- the people that know when I'm joking and the people that can read the look on my face and call me out. The people that make absurd noises not because they have nothing better to fill the air with, but because our little group of bandits knows exactly when and who to sneak up behind.
I've never felt these degrees of homesickness. But I'm exhausted- I can't make any more small talk. I can't make awkward dinner conversation or be polite with those I don't care for. I'm tired of asking people where they're from, how they like the swamp. My lack of effort makes my apathy worse, which in turn has sent me spiralling into this terrible cycle of just...missing. My whole person aches for the familiar and the comforting.
This is how I know the homestretch has arrived. Plenty has happened this week- I drove a diesel around the refuge spraying for invasive Phragmites, I've met with USGS biologists and filled spreadsheets- but my head has been somewhere else. I want my skin to be the way it was when I arrived, unblemished by the violent swollen bites from the bugs and the harsh sun, and I want my mind to be as refreshed and anxious with excitement as it was when I first drove past that government brown sign and into summer.
I feel more mellow having gotten that out. Thanks for putting up with me, and wish me luck as I close out the last month of this curious summer.
Friday, July 20, 2012
Prime Hook Pt. 3 (7/20)
Oh my word I am exhausted.
Fred and I went back up to Prime Hook this past week! I left early Monday morning, after a typical night of not getting enough sleep. I always get a little antsy when I travel, so I didn't start with a full tank. Anyway, we ended up getting there in the early afternoon and taking measurements.
We ran into some of the guys from St. Jones Reserve, an estuary research center that works for the state of Delaware and frequently visits the Prime Hook NWR. The reserve is also where we've been staying on our trips. They saw us when we arrived and greeted us cheerfully, saying that we "Picked the hottest week to come up to collect data."
I know that when people say stuff like this, they mean it in good-humor, but I always feel like they're signing my death certificate when they talk mention things of that nature.
Except it ended up being not that bad. It was actually pretty nice in comparison to the swamp- the humidity was low, and the breeze kept the bugs away. Plus we were consistently knee-deep in the bay, so that always helps the heat.
We walked the breach a million times, collecting velocities at different points. One run takes about two hours, and we did at least one or two a day while we were up there. My arms got really tan while we were there- permanent tanlines, permanent sleeves, even the people back at the bunkhouse complemented me on how tan my arms were. And then someone said something about the comparison between my arms and my legs, and let's just say I'll have to spend hours evening up this weekend.
My arms are also a little leathery. I'm mildly concerned about the amount of sun I got.
Besides the breach- we went and made countless measurements at the structures in the refuge. We smelled pretty bad when we came back from the refuge each day. A couple of times Fred was chest-deep in water filled with this nasty-smelling hydrogen sulfide- the bacteria in the water produce it as a biproduct. It is foul.
But the trip was fine! It was nice to get away from the swamp for a couple of days, I went back earlier in the day to drop off some equipment and enter some data and I feel pretty refreshed. We were working some seriously long days, though, and being out in the sun all day is seriously draining-- by Thursday morning my skin recoiled at the slighted hint of sunlight and all I wanted to do was sleep. I was absolutely beat, but this wasn't an unpleasant exhaustion.
So today I slept in and got a whopping 11 hours of sleep- I have to catch up on all the nights I spent tossing and turning on the plastic Reserve beds.
And so closes my 7th week at the Refuges, can you believe it? (To make up for a lack of depth, photos!)
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| One of many River Surveyor measurements made! |
We ran into some of the guys from St. Jones Reserve, an estuary research center that works for the state of Delaware and frequently visits the Prime Hook NWR. The reserve is also where we've been staying on our trips. They saw us when we arrived and greeted us cheerfully, saying that we "Picked the hottest week to come up to collect data."
I know that when people say stuff like this, they mean it in good-humor, but I always feel like they're signing my death certificate when they talk mention things of that nature.
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| Upstream of the Prime Hook Creek WCS |
We walked the breach a million times, collecting velocities at different points. One run takes about two hours, and we did at least one or two a day while we were up there. My arms got really tan while we were there- permanent tanlines, permanent sleeves, even the people back at the bunkhouse complemented me on how tan my arms were. And then someone said something about the comparison between my arms and my legs, and let's just say I'll have to spend hours evening up this weekend.
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| Downstream of the PHC structure |
My arms are also a little leathery. I'm mildly concerned about the amount of sun I got.
Besides the breach- we went and made countless measurements at the structures in the refuge. We smelled pretty bad when we came back from the refuge each day. A couple of times Fred was chest-deep in water filled with this nasty-smelling hydrogen sulfide- the bacteria in the water produce it as a biproduct. It is foul.
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| Mmm, marshy |
But the trip was fine! It was nice to get away from the swamp for a couple of days, I went back earlier in the day to drop off some equipment and enter some data and I feel pretty refreshed. We were working some seriously long days, though, and being out in the sun all day is seriously draining-- by Thursday morning my skin recoiled at the slighted hint of sunlight and all I wanted to do was sleep. I was absolutely beat, but this wasn't an unpleasant exhaustion.
So today I slept in and got a whopping 11 hours of sleep- I have to catch up on all the nights I spent tossing and turning on the plastic Reserve beds.
And so closes my 7th week at the Refuges, can you believe it? (To make up for a lack of depth, photos!)
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| The breach |
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| All of those footprints! |
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| Horseshoe crabs |
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| A dolphin skeleton guys from the Reserve pulled up from the beach. |
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| Salt marsh adjacent to the breach. |
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| The beach! |
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| Fox pawprints! |
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| Bed formations left by the exiting tide. |
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| An osprey nest in the breach area. |
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| Standard seashell beach photo |
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| I've started learning to tie knots! Check out my sweet donut knot. |
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| Ahhh, perfection- I stayed up late working last night working on some of these! |
Saturday, July 14, 2012
Townie (7/14)
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| The chariot. |
Earlier this week Fred loaned me his old truck, so I have a set of wheels for the remainder of the summer. It's older than I am, it's three different shades of red, it's a manual, and it doesn't have ac or power steering. I'm over the moon, I am so excited to be able to get out and about, and how generous was it for him to lend it to me? Ahhh, I'm so stoked. I mean, I would be thrilled even if I had to wind it up every time I went to drive it, but when I brought it back to the bunkhouse I almost spent the night in the cab.
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| Some of the items on display at the train museum. Most have been donated by individuals previously involved with the station. |
Which means tonight I need to get some major shut eye, but I'm already feeling more refreshed than I did during the week. Today I decided to explore and get some of my much-needed alone time (coming from a family of six, I learned to really appreciate 'me' time) so I went out.
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| Original 18th century fireplace in what was the overflow waiting room of the station. |
I walked around the nearby cemetery and many, if not most, of the dates were from the 19th century. It reminded me of all the times my friend and I would run down to the cemetery by her house when we were in middle school. After that I went to lunch, a little place downtown called The Plaid Hatter. They had a huge selection of teas and all sorts of grub. I got a zucchini carrot burger and a salad- which came with a balsamic glaze so tasty I could bathe in it. (I can actually make this at home, so maybe I will.... though I doubt that'd help my bug problems.) I was pretty hesitant about the sandwich and the lemon yogurt spread, but it was delicious. I was full halfway through, but the toasted ciabatta and spread were so good that I ATE IT ALL.
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| A statue dedicated to the soilders of WW1 at the entrance to the Cedar Hill Cemetery in Suffolk. |
I finished my sandwich before my server even came back to check on me. It was that good. I might just be a regular.
Then I went thrifting, which I always love doing. Thanks to my Grandpa Paul dragging me to second hand stores and yard sales as a kid, I am always poking around in these places.
I guess I didn't do anything terribly exciting. I went to the mall and walked around, mostly just enjoying wandering around the stores. I drove around, for the most part, feeling pretty cool because I was driving a manual transmission and gas is a whole dollar cheaper than back home. When I went to get a soda from Chick-fil-a the boy at the counter got a little flirty when he gave me my change, which of course, brightened my day pleasantly.
For dinner, one of the other interns and I went to the Plaid Hatter's sister restaurant, the Plaid Turnip. I got pulled pork this time around, but because I spent the day eating peanut brittle and stuffing myself on other sandwiches I only ate half. I also got a cupcake, because it was lemon flavoured and the second the server mentioned it I had to.
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| The Plaid Hatter |
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