Sunday, December 20, 2009

May the Force Be With Me

This is written as first published in the Phainopepla in November 2001:

I spent my Spring working on a nest monitoring project for Dartmouth College. I was one of two field technicians and three interns. We studied two ground-nesting species: Spotted Towhee and Rufous-crowned Sparrow, and two shrub nesters: Wrentits, and California Towhee. Of the sixteen sites studied, some where "interior plots" where no urbanization was present, other plots had urban development on one or more edges. The purpose of the study was to determine the effect of urbanization and fragmentation on nesting survival.

Of the ground nesters, the Rufous-crowned Sparrows were the hardest to locate. The were extremely secretive. If we were lucky enough to spot a female with nest material, she would apparently spot us first, vanish and not return for up to two hours. When going to a completed nest, they tend to run on the ground rather than fly directly to it. While incubating, they sit tight on the nest, not flushing until the nest is literally almost stepped on. The Spotted Towhees are just a bit easier to find. When a female is seen building, she continues to build actively. Once incubating, however, she generally stays on the nest for two to three hours. At this point, the male would "escort" her around to feed and then back to the nest.

Of the scrub nesters, California Towhees are by far the easiest and most abundant nests to be found. Although we rarely witnessed a female building, their nests seemed to magically materialize. We joked that some other bird must be building their nests for them. I seem to have formed some sort of psychic link with the Cal Towhees as I began finding their nests whether I was looking for them or not. The male would choose a lookout perch, and once I found it, I could easily walk right up to the nest, as it was always nearby. My crew was convinced I was using "the force" to find nests. I convinced them that my powers were not from the dark side. The Wrentits were similar to the Spotted Towhees in that they built right out in the open. I felt that if I had offered nest material in an outstretched hand, they would have gladly taken it. They were different from the other species in that both sexes shared the nest building task. I also learned that they mated for life, and often saw them affectionately grooming one another.

The nests themselves were quite amazing to look at, each one like an intricate work of art. They were made of a variety of vegetation and various other materials. Most were found in some sort of sage, but many were built in other plants such as monkey flower, viguiera, buckwheat, and one pair built in a patch of thistle. The nests were constructed with grasses, bark strips, leaves, flowers and the like, and sometimes man-made objects. The Wrentits found spider webs essential to their nest building. I found it quite interesting that two of my Wrentit nests on the same plot contained white ribbon intertwined through them. The source of the ribbon was from many balloons on the plot that had the ribbon tied to them as a "handle". I saw several blue and purple ribbons about the area and thought it odd that both birds chose only white for their nests. One plot, nicknamed "the dump", was the final resting place for discarded couches, stoves and the like. The local birds seemed to take it in stride, though. A California Towhee nest incorporated a cotton swab in it's nest wall. In another instance I observed Bushtits picking stuffing from a dead couch for their nest. The most exotic nest I found was built by a Cal Towhee. Each time I checked it, it was larger and more elaborate, even after the female began incubating. She added feathers and so many foxtails that they stuck out at every angle, making the nest look like some outlandish hat. She finally added a stick with dead leaves that she stood up in the rim of the nest, so it resembled a mast and sail. I dubbed it "the boat nest". It was eventually depredated, probably due to its size and flamboyance.

Checking the nests brought more surprises. We found many of the birds to be quite stubborn about leaving the nest so we could count eggs and chicks. The Wrentits held out the longest; we had to resort to flicking their tails to get them off the nest. Some still didn't budge, and a few even decided to peck at our fingers. I realized just what dedicated parents they were when I found one of their nests had tipped over on its side. The parents had made a bad building choice; the vegetation was not strong enough to support the weight once the chicks had hatched. When I found the nest in this condition, I assumed it was empty. Peering over the side, I was quite startled to see a little head poking out sideways from the nest. Apparently one chick remained, and the parent had sort of wedged itself into the nest and was adamantly brooding despite the nest's imminent collapse.

Most of the nests we monitored belonged to our target species although we monitored any nest we found. Other species included the Californina Thrasher, Western Scrub Jay, Northern Mockingbird, Bushtit, Bewick's Wren, Anna's Hummingbird, and one migrant, the Lazuli Bunting. By the end of the season we had found a total of some 300 nests, as well as a great respect for the little birds that built them.

Sunday, September 20, 2009

Yankee With a Cause


It was the summer of 2000 that I took a job as a field assistant studying the Henslow’s Sparrow in Tenneessee. I would live in a small unincorporated town called Bumpus Mills, located about 30 miles east of the much larger town of Clarksville. Our field house was located on Dirt Road. Not only was the name of the street Dirt Road, but it was indeed a literal dirt road. Our study would take place on the Fort Campbell Military Installation.
Bumpus Mills was a small town consisting of a bar, a church, a small corner market, and a post office. We noticed the bar had the same five cars parked in the lot each day. We visited the bar a couple times to find the same five people sitting in the same five stools. We found that they knew who we were before we ever set foot in the place. News of our arrival in town preceded us. I found out just how small this town was when I went to the post office to pick up a care package from my mom, only to have the attendant hand me my package before ever asking for it or identifying myself. She had an unfamiliar name on a package and an unfamiliar face standing before her, so she put two and two together.
I learned a few things about the town in the next three months. I found that most of the people there were still obsessed with the Civil War, and proudly flew a rebel flag on their porch. I found when people asked me where I was from and found out I was from California and to top it off, from the Los Angeles area, I was immediately deemed “a yankee”. I also learned that you could not purchase an alcoholic beverage stronger than a beer unless you drove to a proper liquor store some 30 miles away, or that you could not purchase alcohol period on a Sunday.
Work became a very interesting experience, especially when I stupidly volunteered to do about 100 point counts. Point counts are when you are given a predetermined location (or point) that you must find and stand in for a predetermined time (usually 5-10 minutes) and note every bird you see or hear during that time. I was given a huge binder with maps of the points and a compass to find my way.
I had never worked on a military base so was not used to having to get approval each day to be in certain areas due to bombings and exercises taking place. There were several times when we were told an area was safe only to get a call later that day telling us to get out as soon as possible. Once a coworker and I were looking for nests when we saw a van labeled “Bomb Squad” drive in. They gave us a wave so we assumed everything was okay. About 15 minutes later, an explosion so strong , that we were very nearly knocked off our feet, went off. We got out of there as quickly as possible. On the way out we noticed a red flag waving at the entrance to the site. A red flag is a warning not to enter.
I started my point counts early in the morning. I traveled alone and had to be to my first point before sunrise and there was a limited amount of time at which the surveys could be done. Sunrise to 10am was what the protocol called for. I planned to do 8-10 per morning, but my plans would often change due to areas being closed for bombings, etc. I would tell my crew where I would be when I left each morning, but did not always end up there. I had a walkie talkie as my only form of communication (with the biologists who worked on base). Cell phones were not widely available back then and could not pick up a signal on base.
I was making very good time for the first few days, and even managed to help some lost soldiers from time to time that I would run into out in the wilds of the base. I was well equipped with maps and a compass so was able to direct them to where they were going. Many were surprised to see that not only was I not a fellow soldier riding around on an army base, but that I was a lone woman. One guy even broke out in laughter when he saw me! I also often found myself in the middle of war games. I once was doing my bird count when suddenly I noticed soldiers silhouetted against the forest holding M16s and silently moving through the trees. Some had vegetation sticking out of their helmets and clothing as camoflage. I was not quite sure what to do as I did not want to be mistaken for a soldier and be ambushed, or whatever it is they do, so I stood silently and finished my bird count than quietly found my way back to my truck. Another time two soldiers came running past me on the road I was walking down, being chased by a large tank. They yelled “civilian” into their radios as they passed me to let the tank know I was there. The tank apparently did not care because as it caught up to me and the soldiers, they aimed their gun at us and started shooting. They were blanks of course..but it was still loud and very scary!
Eventually I started to run into some problems. The roads I had to drive were actually not roads at all, but rather fire breaks and they were often flooded, treacherous, or had fallen trees blocking them. This was my first experience driving a 4WD vehicle and I had not mastered it yet so found myself getting my car stuck a couple times. I had to be rescued by the base biologists a couple times. They made fun of me, but I got payback when they once called me for rescue when they got stuck with a flat and had not bothered to bring a spare tire. Once I had to hitch a ride with a army truck full of soldiers when my truck (after parking it) slid off the road down into a ditch. I seriously thought I was being set up by some prank T.V. show, but it was just my own dumb luck. These experience were not as eventful as the last time I got stuck.
I headed out on a Saturday morning with a plan that I was quickly not able to follow. At about 9am I got stuck on a flooded road in thick mud. I tried my radio but got no answer from the biologist. I figured they were out of the office momentarily and I would try back shortly. At 9:30, I tried again but had no success. I sat there for quite a while without anyone answering my calls for help. I sat fro another hour or so and started to take stock of my situation. I could hike out, but had very little water and only an apple left of the “lunch” I had packed. The temperature was about 90 degrees by now with about 100% humidity. The closest area where there might be some soldiers was about 4-5 miles away. If there were no soldiers there, I could hike an additional 2 miles to a main highway where I could flag someone down for help. With the amount of water I had, I decided it would be dangerous for me to leave the shade and shelter of my truck. At about 11am, the time I was due to be back to the office with my truck, the biologist finally radioed me to ask where I was. I was relieved and told him I was stuck. He continued to call out my name and ask my location. I suddenly realized he was not able to hear me. I tried to talk to him over and over again but to no avail. My radio was malfunctioning and I had no form of communication. By noon, I heard both base biologists talking back and forth becoming concerned about my whereabouts.
Just about his time, I heard a vehicle engine on a nearby road. I could not tell exactly which direction it was coming from as I was surrounded by forest which muffled the sound. I started honking my horn. I honked out what I believed to be an S.O.S Soon, an unmarked truck pulled up behind me. I expected an army truck or some other marked vehicle. I started to worry about exactly who I had summoned for help as there should not have been any unmarked cars on base. I quickly grabbed my radio to pretend I had some form of communication with the outside world.
Two men got out of the truck. One was a huge man wearing overalls with muscles bulging out of them. I noticed he had a lot of missing teeth. The second guy looked like Jerry Garcia’s twin, and was covered in tatoos. They completely covered both arms and even peeked out from under his shirt going up his neck and stopping at his chin. At that moment I had visions of my dead naked body being buried in the woods never to be seen again. The guy in the overalls asked me what I was doing out there. I told him I was doing a bird survey, and he asked me where Andrew was. I was immediately flooded with relief as Andrew was the name of the biologist on base. I told him no one was answering my radio calls, but did not let on that my radio was broken as I still did not know who these guys were and still was not comfortable letting them know I was helpless out there. “Overall guy” proceeded to get a chain out of his truck to try and pull my truck out. All the while, “Jerry Garcia guy” had not spoken a word but just stared at me. He finally spoke and the first thing that came out of his mouth was a question; “Are you a Deadhead?” I thought maybe I had indeed stumbled upon Jerry’s twin! I answered a simple “No” as I thought what a strange question that was. He then asked me how my water supply was and if I was thirsty. I told him that I was in need of water and he proceeded to walk to the back of their truck to lift out a huge water cooler from the back. He carried it over to me and lifted it above my head and pushed the button to let the water flow out. I realized he expected me to bend down and catch the water in mid air with my mouth before it hit the ground. I did and thought again what a strange experience this was. I also asked if I could fill up my water bottle as well.
After several tries and almost getting their own truck stuck , they managed to pull me out. I thanked them and asked their name. They told me to tell Andrew that “Billy Bob” and “John Boy” had helped get me out. Before they left me, they asked me if I had heard any gunfire in the area, and I told them I had not.
I arrive back at the biologist’s office around 1pm, two hours late. I told the biologists all about my ordeal and about the strange guys who came to my rescue. They informed me that these guys were the local US Fish and Game wardens that worked on base and that their names were NOT Billy Bob and John Boy, and that those names were the names of a couple of disc jockeys on a local radio station. They also told me that they should not have been in the area they found me and that they must have been goofing off and that is why they asked me about gunfire, they were pretending to have some excuse for being out there. I was SO thankful that they were goofing off, or I may have never found my way back to the office and safety.
I continued to do my point counts and finally finished all 100 points. I was then asked if I would like to do 100 more on the base located on the Kentucky side of the border. I kindly refused! I had had enough . I was able to use my point count experience on my resume to gain other jobs in the future. I have used my other experiences there to tell interesting and scary stories.