The Summer to Date (7/17)

I haven't written anything in about a month, which is a really long time as far as the summer goes. I've gotten used to feeling perpetual disbelief at how quickly time is passing here at Bryce. Do I think that I will regret not having written more?

          

 Probably not, because when I reflect on what I have been doing instead of writing, I feel as though I made the best use of my time to date. I won't regret staying up late to gab with my housemate instead of writing. I won't regret talking and laughing with the Veg crew when I could have been drafting my reflections in my head during the day. I also met someone, pretty early in the summer, and I'd be lying if I said that didn't have anything to do with my lack of composition. When I'm not trying to figure out the origin of some new bruise or thinking up something to cook for dinner, I'm with him. Actually, I do those things when I'm with him anyway, so.

            

No, I won't regret not having written more. On some level, I wish I had. I wish I had taken the time to describe what it's like to lean against an aspen at break time, eating quietly in a meadow as the rushing leaves overhead sounded less like the wind and more like the ocean. I can imagine it now, the feeling of the breeze on my dampened clothes and gritty skin, but I can't remember what I was thinking that day with the backpack sprayer slapped on my back.

          

  At first I was really excited about spraying for invasives. I felt as though I was making a difference and doing some decent work. But I've come to realize that most field scientists are not 5' 2", and the backpack sprayer really doesn't sit on my back well. The waist straps sit too low, and the shoulder straps don't go anywhere near short enough to prevent the weight of the liquid herbicide from hanging from my shoulders and collarbones completely.  We've spent the last few weeks spraying for Bull Thistle, which I now see whenever I close my eyes.

           

We work in the burned areas, and it's hard walking. My legs end up getting pretty beat up from awkwardly clambering over downed trees or pushing my way through the rest of the dead and fallen limber. Some days it's hard to keep my attitude up, and there has definitely been a day when I felt like kicking my sprayer down the slopes we constantly scale and descend, and sitting down and crying.

            

But, that's pretty normal. There were days when I felt like that both at Dismal and at sea. There was one gloriously slobbery, snotty day where I spent a solid half hour slumped against the steering wheel of the Silverado, crying and cursing the flow meter that was sitting in the passenger seat. There was also a night at sea, when I felt so isolated and so frustrated from a lack of rest that I spent the evening curled up in my cubbyhole crying myself into exhaustion.

            

There have been some really triumphant days in the past month, too. Something finally clicked with the elevation, and I successfully survived an 8 mile hike down to a camera and back up. Which I then did again a week or two later.

            

There was a day when a retired professor came and gave us a talk on the plants at Bryce. Except it was less of a talk and more of us pulling things out of the ground for him to identify. I ended up learning a lot about the natural history of the flora here. I've made something of a game of learning the plants, there are a lot, so I'm not always correct when I attach some label to a shrub or a grass, but compared to what I knew on May 20th, I'm practically an expert.

            

I've gotten to go out birding with someone with the Rocky Mountain Bird Observatory. I can name a few common birds by sight and sound, and while I was out that day I heard some finches and warblers, which was exciting, because I hadn't considered what songbirds occupied the area. The birder was also really great to talk to, and I've found that to be the theme-- not just with birders, but with almost everyone I've run into here at Bryce. Why would I want to be in my own head, going over and over my experiences when there are so many people here I can talk to and learn from? That's been my general feeling regarding this blog. I'm not saying this experience is any richer than any of my others, but it's different in what perspectives I consider on a day to day basis.

            

Previous travels were more introspective, eye opening on an internal level. This experience, thus far, has been much more focused on the outside. A study on how I interact with what and those around me.

           

I'm having a lot of fun here. I love the days when we trap and band hummingbirds. Holding those soft, delicate creatures in my hands makes being in the field at 5:30 100% worth it. I get to chat with the volunteers that come through, which is always fun. Not this week, but at the last banding session the director of the US Fish and Wildlife Service came to trap with us. It was such an incredible opportunity, to talk with him! We chatted about Dismal and the refuges in general, and he even asked me how the refuge system compared to the parks. I got a picture, which he then sent to my email. He'll be hearing from me in the future, that's for sure.

           

I've gotten to use some cool equipment, and today I'm going to St. George to meet with parents of the children attending a Paiute youth camp. Sarah will be teaching a little during the weeklong camp, and I've been working on a tracks and scat book for the last month or so for it. I've put together a lot of little projects, it feels like. They keep me very busy here, which I like.

           

In the last month or so since my last posting a lot has happened. I dressed up as a giant prairie dog for Utah Prairie Dog Day, and my family came to visit. It was really awesome to see them, and I was happy for them to see where I've been living and working. It was also fun to see them struggle with the elevation, in a "See, I told you!" kind of way. Earlier this month for the fourth of July I went down to Tucson. I saw some saguaro cacti and baked in the heat. Monsoon season has started up, too, so I've seen some really incredible storms. It's nice, because sometimes they chase us out of the burns, which means I can strip off my PPE and return to a normal human temperature.

            

Maybe I'll try to write a little more later this week, but to be honest. I kind of like immersing myself in this place. It feels as though the rest of the world has been put on hold, I'm completely out of the loop, and I like it.