Getting Acquainted

Flashback to...April 2010

The other interns seem friendly and enthusiastic about being here with other young biologists.  We have been getting along well so far.  Most of them are Irish and British, and another woman is from Vancouver, Canada.  With this cultural exposure, I’m expecting to come home with a bit of an accent as well as some new terminology.  Apparently, not everyone is staying for the entire season, as some will be starting jobs and Master’s programs in the fall.  I’m wondering if I will end up having the place to myself for the last month or so.  Yet, we are still waiting on six more people to arrive, so that may not happen. 

There are seven sites on the island that will be surveyed monthly, and over one hundred annual sites, located Sherkin, on other islands, and along the coast of County Cork.  All of the work needs to be coordinated with the tides because we will be able to see the most shore and the greatest biodiversity at the lowest tides, which happen near the end of every month.  The tides are affected by the pull of the sun and the moon and the best alignment for the greatest pull happens after the full moon, and to a lesser extent, the new moon. 

I think it’s getting late now.  I’ve been using my alarm clock to check the time occasionally, but mostly I just ignore the concept of time.  At the moment, it’s rather irrelevant. 

Settling In

Flashback to...7 April 2012

All I hear in the morning is the chorus of birds and the waves crashing into the shore not too far below me.  It’s a bit breezy this morning, but the sun is bright and the sky, cloudless.  And so much green!  There are trees on Sherkin Island, but they are not very large.  Some on the mainland seem more like home.  Yesterday was drizzling rain until I was on my way to Baltimore, when the sun popped out.  The peacefulness here reminds me of Plainfield, remote, lacking the harsh noises of development, but also, there is water. 

I do love the ocean, but I haven’t spent nearly enough time there as I would like.  It’s just one of those things that I keep coming back to as an interest, something I want to do, but then, the idea becomes buried underneath what I have to do, or drifts away for a time.  It’s kind of sad to think about not pursuing what one loves.  Perhaps, there is a time and a place for it, though since everything can’t be done at once, and it may take time to really develop a passion for something.  I’m here now though, neighboring the ocean.  There are no excuses.  I also wanted to return to Ireland after the last trip, since the island was so lovely and the trip was short and rushed.  It’s amazing what chances life gives to you and how many!  Until you learn the underlying lesson or make the most of an opportunity.

For the past few days, I have been exploring the beaches for intertidal sea life with two other rocky shore surveyors, in order to become acquainted with recognizing the various species.  This will certainly be a crash course in data collection and species identification.  The organisms that we will be surveying include seaweeds, shelled animals, sponges, lichens, and sea anemones, among others.  There is a small library in the lab to assist us with identification.  We’ve mostly been working with seaweed over the past couple of days and there are remarkable differences among them.  Yet, it has been challenging to match what I see with the descriptions and pictures in the books.  There are so many possible choices for what a single organism could be. 

What I Will Miss About Puerto Rico

As the anger begins to resurface at the two-faced behaviors that I have experienced through my daily interactions with a particular individual, I feel that I must take time to refocus my thoughts on the positive aspects of my time in Puerto Rico, which are listed below, in no particular order.

·         A fresh produce section growing right in the back yard complete with mangos, papayas, bananas, pumpkins, cherry tomatoes, corazons (also known as custard apples), plantains, and pomegranates

·         The quick healing powers of the aloe vera plant

·         Friday night magic shows with tricks designed for a “four-year-old”

·         I can see the ocean from the patio

·         No one owns a dryer

·         Little lizards constantly scurrying about

·         Frequent visits from beautiful tropical song birds and magnificent raptors

·         The funny way that one barking dog causes the entire neighborhood to erupt in yelps

·         The absurdity of the idea that roosters only crow at dawn

·         Working outside on my laptop

·         Good people, who make up the vast majority of the team

·         Big group dinners with lots of food

·         Mastering the arts of grilling and baking desserts in a toaster oven

CD Release!

Two months ago I wrote about a show that I attended and the power of music. Just a few days ago, Hoots and Hellmouth officially released their new album entitled Salt. Of course, it's not comparable to a live performance, which you should check out if they pass through your town, but the melodies and lyrics are moving nonetheless.

You can preview Salt online. It is also for sale on Hoots and Hellmouth's website and bandcamp webpage, Amazon, and iTunes. My favorite song from this album is "Ocean, Open Wide," which illustrates the interconnectedness of all living things. At least, this is how I interpret it.

I hope you enjoy Hoots and Hellmouth's music as much as I do!

Crystal Clear Caribbean Waters

We awoke early on Monday morning, packed up the car, and headed off for a half day trip to Steps Beach.  Our destination of Rincón, Puerto Rico was over an hour’s drive away, which provided me with the opportunity to view more of the island.  One major emphasis on the research project and the courses being conducted here is how everything is interconnected, which arose as a discussion during the car ride.  The boss and another intern explained to our two new students that the numerous mountain ranges on the island divide it into seven ecological zones, which, as a result, create vastly different climates, landscapes, and ocean current patterns, among other things.  This is what causes northern Puerto Rico to be like a rainforest, as it experiences downpours throughout much of year from trade winds off of the Atlantic Ocean.  Conversely, in Guayanilla, where the center is based, the mountains block out much of this rainfall, creating a dry climate and constant sunshine during the majority of the year.  Now, I had a picture to fill in the blanks of this ecology lesson, which I had also received.  I don’t believe that the mountains are quite as high as the snow-capped giants of the western United States, but they do look dramatic, rising up from this small island and towering over the villages far below.

Once again, I was excited to return to the ocean, which seemed to stretch on forever, uninhibited by land in its westward direction.  Palm trees and other tropical vegetation grew along the edges of the narrow beach, gently leaning towards the water.  Pelicans flew overhead in v-shaped flocks comprised of three individuals.  Occasionally, one would swoop down from the trees and glide along the water line until it was nearly skimming the surface, likely searching for its midday meal.  The beach itself is named for its rock formations below the water’s surface, which drop downwards in steps away from the shore, having been carved this way by the furious waves that pound the surf.  I was fascinated even by the few algae species and sea snails that I found atop the rocks left exposed by the receded tide, since they were quite unlike those that I had become familiar with in the colder northern ocean waters.

Unfortunately, the combination of not having had a proper ocean swim in years, the constant jostling by the crashing waves, and the panic over whether or not I could breath underwater, prevented me from receiving a full snorkeling lesson, and so I remained land bound.  This was only the beginning of my frustrations on that fateful day, about which I vented the other day.  I allowed the negativity to overtake me, so that I was no longer able to enjoy the beauty surrounding me and the freedom of being away from the confines of the house.  I took a couple of strolls along the beach, studying the shore life and getting splashed by incoming waves, for which I neglected to watch in the midst of my observations. 

Upon our departure from Steps Beach, we visited the food vendor’s compact trailer for a treat of empanadillas (fried meat pies) and pinchos (kabobs).  I’ve found it quite impressive how many Puerto Ricans understand and speak English in a province where the primary language is Spanish.  Even here, the boss had a lengthy conversation with one of the servers about whales in this non-native tongue, while we waited for our food.  We took our lunch to go, as we had a schedule to stick to, and traversed back through the mountains to our home in the south.

Reuniting with an Old Friend

I set out with my friends and a birding acquaintance of theirs to northeastern Massachusetts, so that we might get a glimpse of the reported rarities and, for us, being from a land-locked part of the state, the equally obscure coastal birds.  We witnessed some beautiful birds, including the west-coast Townsend’s warbler, a lost Cassin’s kingbird, which should be in Mexico right now, an elegant great blue heron, and the strange-looking surf and white-winged scoters.  The hotspot for observing the coastal birds on our trip was the Park River National Wildlife Refuge on Plum Island, for which we bundled up to keep the chill of the frigid sea wind at bay. 

I strolled along the boardwalk, whose construction seemed to match that of the steady rise and fall of the sand dunes over which it was built.  As I neared the end of the boardwalk, I kept pausing to stand on my tip-toes and peer over the last row of sand dunes in anxious anticipation of the sight of the vast, blue ocean.  Finally, I saw it, but only a slight glimpse.  My heart skipped a beat; I felt like a kid in a candy store, exhilarated over what was at last within my grasp.  In between my last few peeps over the dunes, I jogged to the end of the boardwalk, past the birders on the landing, and down the sand-covered stairs.  I could barely contain my excitement with a broad smile stretched from ear to ear, as I stumbled through the shifting sand. 

As I approached the compacted, ocean swept stretch of the beach, I slowed my pace and heartily greeted my long-lost friend.  I stood as close as I dared to the incoming surf, inhaling that brisk, salty air and allowing the power of the wind and waves to reinvigorate my soul.  I fancied the waves instigating a chase, as they crashed into the shore and the bubbling, white foam glided up the beach towards my feet.  Instead of permitting such an attack, I crouched down just out of reach, and extended my arm to gently caress my friend, letting it know that I’m here, that I care, that it’s been missed.

With no end in sight over the horizon, the great, expansive ocean always serves as a reminder to me how insignificant myself and humanity, in general, are, and how mysterious life can be, full of secrets and unknowns.  Yet, there is a beauty in it that extends to humanity and to life itself, which trumps the negative that we might find in them.  It opens our eyes to the endless possibilities and the wonder of uncertainty; it humbles us.  I find the ocean to be inspiring and revitalizing, seeming to change who I am and how I reflect upon this life.  And so, once again, I long to be reunited with that friend, which has so dramatically affected me and changed my frame of mind, my outlook on life.

Night Without Power

In spite of the lack of electricity, the previous two nights were still abuzz with noise and activity, as the radio blared and broadcasters rambled on.  Other than this, all of us remained silently engrossed in listening to the radio jargon, reading or our own thoughts, while gazing into the brightly burning orange flames of the fire.  It felt as if we had never lost power, as if the television had somehow risen above this obstacle, as the radio ran on long into the night in its place.

Yet, tonight, the radio was switched off in mid-evening, partly due to the disc jockey’s tired old rant on United States immigrants.  I seized the opportunity to entertain, enlighten, and share something of my world, and I offered to continue aloud my reading of Under the Sea Wind, written by Rachel Carson.  She spins a captivating narrative of the beauty, danger, and reality of life at sea and within the coastal waters from first-hand perspectives of a variety of species from the birds in the sky to the fish in the sea.  She introduces all of the creatures encountered along the life journeys of each of her characters and paints detailed pictures of the places that they might call home.  The key characters are given names to make their stories more personal, so that we might identify with their struggles and rejoice in their successes. 

As I read, I recalled my days as a child, huddled under covers next to one of my parents, listening to a bedtime story.  It was as if our roles had reversed, although, I don’t believe that I put anyone to sleep, since there was no snoring coming from the direction of my dad’s seat on the couch.  We finished the book and seemed to remain in quiet contemplation.

I roasted marshmallows for everyone and my fingertips and face burned from my nearness to the flames.  It was an in credible shift in temperature, as a slight chill had been creeping over me at the opposite end of the room, while I had sat in the rocking chair, reading with a fleece blanket in my lap. 

Now, as I write, only the crackling of the fire and the restless movements of my dad are the only noises that remain, as nighttime settles about the house.

Living a Dream

It came to me that just last year, I was looking down from cliff edges to the ocean below into the little faces of harbor seals, which were peeping out from the water’s surface, staring inquisitively back at me.  I had wondered what it would be like to interact with these creatures, how they live, what their personalities might be like.  At the present moment, while standing beside a bathtub containing a couple of hungry seal pups, I realized that I am doing exactly what I had set out to do.  It was to satisfy a curiosity if nothing else, and perhaps, blown out of proportion as I considered it to be my career destiny, but that is not what is important.  I am living what I am dreaming.  It may not necessarily be logical or rational, but it does not really matter.  Yes, I am searching for my calling in life, a passion that drives me, but in the meantime, I can create amazing experiences for myself.  How many people can say that they had the opportunity to work with wildlife, especially seals?  There are only so many organizations that have licenses to work with or research marine mammals.  This is not just the daily grind, even though it may feel that way, at times, with so much repetition, mounting demands, and stress.

Should I Stay or Should I Go?

I thought that this was it.  I thought that this was my calling.  I thought that it would be different.  Famous last words.  Rehabilitation is uniquely different from zoo and shelter work, but it is still animal care.  I believe such work to be a noble cause and I love being a part of it and interacting with the animals.  Perhaps, I wanted me to pursue this.  I pushed myself, just like a parent who tries to live the life that they wanted through their child.  I do have a history with animal care.  I also have a history of leaving animal care.  Those past experience can be interpreted in a number of ways, though I am uncertain how exactly to interpret the things that I take interest in, if they’re things to be taken seriously or not. 

Before I went to Ireland, I wanted to work with birds.  When I got to Ireland, I was thoroughly engaged in my work, but I also wanted to work with the seals.  At home, I fell back to animal care, while wanting to return to the ocean, and just travel in general.  Now, after only two weeks, I don’t want to be here.  I want to be back on the seashore; I want to be back in Ireland.  Although, I still can’t see myself working at that particular marine station again.  I thought that traveling at least would do the trick and make me happy, and it did.  I was in awe on my way journey through British Columbia and was eager to learn and do in my first week. 

I’m getting on well with people here, though the connections aren’t very deep, and I don’t know if they ever will be.  I’m keeping myself busy and active.  I could be on the fringe of homesickness, yet I don’t find myself missing it much without my lover still there.  I feel like I’ve been coping better without him so far this time, compared to last year.  I’m feeling under the weather in general, which could make me feel either more awful about this situation and blow it out of proportion or could be a sign that this isn’t the path for me.  It could be stress and fear regarding the chaotic learning yet to come during the impending overflow of patients.  Although, this feeling isn't always terribly obvious or right at the surface.  It certainly comes up each time I handle a new animal or interact with a more dangerous one.  I don’t know if I have the capability to fake confidence.  But it’s not even supposed to be faking; it’s believing on nothing that I can do something that I’ve never done. 

As a staff member was leaving today, I had the urge to plead to take me with her.  I’m ready to travel again.  Although, part of me wants to stick it out here because it will be an amazing experience, whether or not I continue with this as a career path.  I’ve also made a commitment and I’d feel rather silly leaving so early, especially after pushing for a more extensive internship.  And it’s only three and a half months, now closer to three.  I can do this.  Stay positive and focus on what I have, what I’m gaining, and find the joy in what I'm doing.  I don’t want to be constantly wishing for something else or I’ll never be truly happy.

Island Life and Exploring the Seashore

It is strange to be on an island that is surrounded by so much land and activity on the sea with a rather severed, indirect connection to the ocean.  It seems to defy the concept that has been molded into my mind as to what an island really is.  There seem to be various types of islands, based on their formations over the course of geologic time, the climatic conditions that they experience, the natural resources covering the land, the size of human populations and the intensity of their development, the nearness to land, and the closeness of exposure to the raging temptress of the oceanic depths.

Although, I am technically on an island, it is still a whole new culture shock.  I was expecting to and given the impression that I would “get away from it all” here.  To a certain extent I have, particularly since home is at the opposite side of the continent, but civilization is only a fifteen minute drive away, where I am over-stimulated and still quite confused by the hustle and bustle of town life, which is complete with traffic, constant chatter, and thriving commercialism.  In the summer, during the peak of tourist season, the island population is supposed to double to something like ten thousand people.  The center of town, every tourist trap, and the island’s natural beauty attractions will be crawling.  I anticipate spending much of the summer hiding away in the woodland haven of the wildlife center. 

Yet, for now, I can immerse myself in the beauty of the island and give in to the allure of the seashore.  I still find it to be quite exciting and magical, as I cautiously step from rock to rock, unsure of my footing on slippery seaweed, and having become unaccustomed to such a balancing act, while simultaneously being distracted by familiar and new seashore treasures alike.  I imagine that there are at least creatures of the same genus as those found along the Irish coastline, as they are at a similar latitudes and experience similar climatic conditions. 

As I first stepped upon the stony shore of Ruckle Park, I caught, out of the corner of my eye, the scattered movement of several tiny critters.  Crabs covered the shore, racing for cover below rocks, between crevices, and underneath patches of fucoids.  I must watch where my feet fall, in order to preserve these precious lives, though it is quite challenging to determine exactly where they are hiding.  I descended upon another stretch of shore and was struck by the size of what I believe to be a Porphyra species, which is a papery, yet tough, reddish-pink seaweed with a glint of iridescence.  I found it to be double, maybe even triple the size of any plant that I had come across in Ireland.  From the grassy edge above the sea, I noticed a stretch of feathery looking seaweed, billowing in the current.  I could not be sure exactly what these plants were from such a distance and I felt the urge to find out.  I managed to navigate my way down and much to my dismay, as I approached the water’s edge, I became certain that the invasive Sargassum muticum has also found its way to the shores of British Columbia.

Finding My Passion

Ever since I arrived on the coast and caught my first whiff of that salty air, my immediate desire was to scope out the shore life.  I’ve anxiously been awaiting an opportunity and finding a location to do so on Salt Spring Island, as publicly accessible coast seems to be limited.  I jumped at the opportunity to examine the short strip of shore by Centennial Park (in the center of town) on the first day of my arrival here and was disappointed by the lack of biodiversity with really only barnacles about.  Yesterday, I walked over to the closest stretch of beach, and upon arrival immediately set to work attempting to identify the seaweeds scattered along the shore.  I had to remind myself that it is a different coast with different conditions, and that species may not quite be the same and that many need microscopic identification, in order to keep myself from becoming too frustrated by what knowledge I’ve lost, since last year. 

I certainly enjoyed my time on Sherkin and every day was a new adventure, in spite of the repetitive nature of the work.  There was always a different location, a new species, a challenge to overcome, a different season, something to set apart each site or month from the next.  I am easily immersed in research, particularly when I get to the writing bit and I’ve been involved in the entire process up to that point, which makes the work far more meaningful and interesting.  I miss the work and the location, but I didn’t much care for the management.  Yet, in watching the seals below day after day, I also longed to work more closely with the animals and to be an advocate for them and their well-being. 

I am certainly overwhelmed here now, knowing little about what I’m doing and that these lives are in my hands.  Perhaps, this is also why I am missing Sherkin Island, as I am more certain of my abilities there.  Though, that is not how I started off.  I was just as unsure.  It will take time, but I will learn and catch on, especially with so many experienced individuals to question.  I’ll see how rehabilitation goes.  I can’t yet decide if it’s a field that I want to continue to pursue.  I feel like it will offer adventure, similar to surveying.  Yet, I also can’t ignore the fact that last year’s internship was the first that I could see myself doing again.  I just have to take things as they come and enjoy the present moment.

Salt Water

As soon as you step over the threshold from the cabin to the upper deck, the wind hits you with a strength and intensity that could whisk you overboard.  As long as you can hold your ground, it’s quite invigorating to feel such power.  The wind’s force presses me up against the deck railing and below I see two steady streams of sea spray flying up from underneath the vessel as it cuts effortlessly through the calm water.  Bits of spray spike upwards into my face, as the rest trails behind in a seemingly endless stream of white foam.  I’m reminded of the RIB (rigid-hulled inflatable boat) rides back on Sherkin with that feeling of exhilaration, while speeding across open water, crashing over crests, spraying a salty mist in my face, and I can’t help but smile.

Creating a Path

I am excited at the prospect to form further connections with animals that I am regularly in contact with during an internship position.  I feel torn.  I loved doing research, the life, the schedule, the intensity, and the reward.  I also keep coming back to working with animals.  Animal research, such as the technician positions that I am looking at seems to integrate these two interests to an extent, though I am unsure how similar it would be to Sherkin, since I do not think they would need to work with the tides, and it’s not quite the same experience as helping injured wildlife.  I am leaning towards rehabilitation now, just as I was leaning towards research when I was still on Sherkin.  My interests seem dependent on my environment, and so, constantly change.

Although, the change is no longer so drastic.  Early last year, I was pursuing the Peace Corps with the possibility of securing an environmental education position, somehow working with marine life, but the details were never divulged to me.  It was recommended that I gain more experience in this area, so I sought out a position to do so.  During this time I developed a renewed interest in birds from my last semester of college when I conducted an independent research project on them.  I was fortunate enough to get in at Sherkin, but this forced me to cancel my potential Peace Corps plans, as the dates of the positions conflicted.

While on Sherkin, I developed an appreciation for the ocean and the life that it supports.  I loved the field work and was actually able to see myself doing such work for more than just one season.  I wanted to remain by the sea.  I also wanted to work with animals a bit larger than the invertebrates on the rocky shore.  I thought that marine wildlife rehabilitation would be a good idea, but I also still wanted to work with birds, and there were so many interesting internships coming through my inbox.

Yet, I do not have the necessary qualifications for most birding positions, with limited identification, handling, and survey experience.  There are also only so many facilities accepting interns with the stipulations that I require in the realm of marine wildlife rehabilitation, so I started to settle with applying for inland positions as well.

This is how it has all developed, and in less than a year’s time.  I want to do something with animals.  This much I know.  But when it comes to crunch time, what will I choose?  How will I choose?  If I am accepted to a variety of positions.  I have to develop a more solid sense of what my goals are for this year and for the future, in order to determine what will be of greatest use to me.