Catching Up

I meant to update yesterday, but when I woke up, I knew it wasn't going to happen. And that is because I woke up with a slight fever, a stuffy nose, a headache, a sore throat, and a very congested-sounding cough.

But I've never felt right about calling in sick. So I dragged myself out of bed and then dragged myself to work. I made it in before our receptionist-type-person did, so I flipped on all the lights, all the while coughing and sneezing. I made it in to my office (not really my office. I'm borrowing the future ORP's office, and I just may be the future ORP) and found Curtis. He looked at me (I must have looked somewhat bedraggled) and laughed. You see, it appears that everyone who works here, with the exception of Curtis, hates mornings. Apparently you shouldn't even talk to the refuge manager for at least 2 hours after he gets here. Curtis, however, is annoyingly bright eyed and bushy tailed.

So he chuckles, and I glare and tell him not to laugh because I don't feel well. And then go into a coughing fit. After realizing that I'm serious, Curtis sends me home. Fine with me. I spent most of the day in bed, medicating and forcing the fluids. All the stuff you're supposed to do with a cold.

This morning, I have no fever. But I am dizzy and disoriented. Sigh - gotta love colds. *cough*

But let's move on to more fun topics. Last Friday, Shelby brought me another present. But, unlike the tiny horned lizard of last time, this time it's a young Kansas glossy snake. He found it under a can with a bunch of crickets (one of those said crickets appeared to be a big bulge in the snake's belly - totally cool!). This glossy snake, however, was not nearly as laid back as the two adults I have played with. When Shelby brought it in, he was firmly holding the snake right behind the head. He told me that the snake actually struck out at him, so he wasn't taking any chances. He transferred the snake to me and after giving the snake a firm lecture on trust and not biting the hand that holds it, I released my hold from behind it's head.

Ballsy. I know.

But, while the snake wasn't exactly fond of being where he was, he didn't bite me, or act like he was going to. He was very small! Probably only 8 - 10 inches at the most. Shelby and I decided we would keep him until Curtis could play with him on Monday. We knew the snake would be fine - after all, he had just eaten. Shelby got a container ready (with dirt and dead leaves so the snake could hide) and put the snake in his new home. It was then that the snake and I started having problems. He would strike at me while in the cage. Sure his nose would hit the hard, plastic wall - but he sure discouraged me from picking him up again. He did this all weekend whenever he thought I came too close. My mother and grandmother came up for a visit that weekend as well. To visit me, of course, but to also go on my pelican tour - which we will get to later.

The snake, affectionately named "Punkin" at this point, struck out at them too. So disappointing. I get the one glossy snake with an attitude problem. Don't they like being held in captivity?? I didn't even get to take very good pictures!

But then, a friend of mine came to see me on Sunday. I show him the cantankerous Punkin, and as easy as easy can be, my friend reaches in and pulls the snake out of the cage. Punkin looks at him like, "Oh. You didn't buy my bluff? Alright, whatever." And that was it! Well. Now that I knew the snake was all strike and no venom (so to speak), he was taken out of his cage several more times before Curtis got ahold of him on Monday. So, as you might expect, Punkin also got several photo sessions with my camera.





On Wednesday, Curtis set him free to go terrorize crickets. Which is fine with me. Last Thursday morning - early Thursday morning - I was woken by the loudest cricket known to man. Maybe he was that loud because he was a meager 2 feet away from my bed, under a discarded shirt. I looked at the clock - 4:30 in the a. of m. I sighed and lay back on my pillows. I willed my mind to be in awe of the fact that this beast was making all that racket just with his back legs. I tried to get my head to remember the specifics of the cricket's circadian rhythm (the biological rhythm for the physiological processes of all living beings - can be modulated by temperature and sunlight.) But in the end, I couldn't do it. I threw the monster outside. Grumbling the whole time. May he get eaten by a young KS glossy snake!

So the pelican tours of last weekend went very well. I had a rather large crowd on Friday afternoon - ending up with a caravan of about 5 or 6 vehicles. They all seemed to enjoy themselves, or at least they told me they did. Several hours after the tour ended, my mom and grandma arrived. I took them and another pelican enthusiast from Woodward (pronounced "Woo-ard" by some in this area) on a more in-depth tour on Saturday morning. For one, I wasn't going to run out of daylight and for two, it was just the 4 of us. So I loaded us all into the manager's Tahoe, and off we went; courting adventures with pelicans.

First we went to Sand Creek Bay. We saw several pelican clusters and many other types of birds. Mom and I's favorite "other bird" was the American Avocet. They're just fun birds! They have this bill that curves upwards, and they have a very distinctive call. They are in their winter plumage right now (it normally means they're more drab. There's no chance of breeding right now, so there's no need to impress members of the opposite sex) but I still think they're lovely.

Anyway, after Sand Creek, we hit another couple of points that weren't very impressive, so I made an executive decision and took them someplace they would otherwise never get to see. It's informally called "Ron's watch point" because it's a good spot to sit and count birds. It's the very southern edge of the reservoir where it meets with the salt flats. And it takes about 20-30 minutes to get out there. You must drive down the twisty, curvy highway for approx. 10 miles, turn off on a dirt road and take it another 5 mi (or so - remember I'm no good at eye-balling these kinds of things) until you get to a gate. Open the gate and follow the wheel marks through the grass and dirt. This "road" is made very bumpy and uncomfortable by the "cotton pickin" gophers that no one up here seems to like. Follow the road until you have to turn right or left. Turn left and keep going until you can't anymore. This will put you at Ron's watch point. Previously unobserved fact: The soil of Ron's watch point isn't really soil. It's sand. Very loose sand. This will come into play in a moment.

Anyway, my passengers seemed to get a bit anxious on the way down there. To a person who hadn't been there before, it would feel like a wild goose chase (or a wild pelican chase, as it were). I kept them in suspense by telling them that I wasn't sure where I was going, that I hoped this was the right way, etc. Mom hates it when I joke that way. But they were doubting the tour guide; speaking mutinous statements and such.

But they took it all back once we got to the watch point. For there were hundreds of pelicans extremely close by on the shore line of the reservoir. I parked on the side of the spot - so all I needed to do was drive a large circle to get back on the road. More the fool I, but we'll get to that in a bit.

We took lots and lots of pictures at our spot by the truck. Then we walked down to the shoreline to take more pictures. Some of the pelicans became startled and flew off, but not all of them. Besides, watching them fly off is also wonderful - their wings make a sound similar to that made by a windmill, a kind of "whoop - whoop - whoop". It was awesome to hear.

After about a half hour, I decide it's probably time to head back. I still have traps to check and a visitor's center to open. Mom and grandma stay outside the car until I can get turned around. I start the car. I move the car. It goes about 5 feet and then no more. I check to make sure we're in 4 wheel drive. We are. I try to move the car again. No dice. Mom and grandma get me try driving in different directions at different speeds. The only thing that happened was my car burying itself deeper into the sand. At this point, the Tahoe is at a precarious angle, with the left side up, and the right side down and buried. We don't want to try anything more because of the fear we might tip the thing. So....I call Shelby on the radio. He says he's on his way, but he's at the exact other end of the refuge.

So. No food, no water, no place to sit, minimal shade, and a rapidly warming up day. Sounds like fun, no? Well, it actually wasn't bad. We watched the pelicans flying, took pictures, and chatted while standing in what little shade there was. Before long, Shelby pulls up. He gets a rope out of his own Tahoe and pulls me out. Just like that. He couldn't have made it look easier. It really made me think, "Gee. Did I give up too easily?"

There's a refuge rule. If you get stuck, you have to buy the person who pulls you out their favorite candy bar. "Snickers" Shelby tells me. Haha. So my grandmother, mother, and I bought him a whole bag of "fun size" snickers bars. I told him I was paying in advance.