Baby Horned Lizard

Saturday was a fun day. An absolute perfect game day. Of course, others might say it was perfect day for the first day of Dove hunting season. I thought I would be busier than I was in the visitor's center, but it was actually one of my slower Saturdays. Of course, it was game day. I know where I found myself at 6 o'clock, and that was in front of Shelby's tv watching the OU game (This took some doing as Shelby is a graduate from OSU). Very excited at all the tail OU kicked too. Pretty good start, I have to say.

About lunch time on Saturday, Shelby himself comes to visit me with a present. He had managed to pick up a baby Horned Lizard. I couldn't even tell its sex because it was so small. He (?) weighed less than a gram (probably 1/2 a gram) and was approximately 30 mm in length. He and I hung out at the visitor's center until 5:00. He, poor guy, hung out in an empty plastic coffee cup. Not really much to do except contemplate one's situation. But as there was no sun on him, he wasn't really "warm" enough to do much anyway.

5:00 is closing time on Saturdays. And it was on Saturday that Murphy's Law for customer based operations came into effect. I was locking the door at 5:01 whenever one last car pulled up. I hadn't had anybody for 2 hours, and then someone shows up right as I'm ready to leave. And of course, they were both very talkative. Normally, when I'm in "customer service" mode, this doesn't bother me. Course, when I'd been there for 7 hours straight and had a young horned lizard to play with, I wasn't nearly so excited to be chatting.

I shouldn't really complain - they didn't stay too long. I practically locked the door right as it closed shut behind them. Then it was picture time with my new friend. He wasn't all that happy about it, and nearly escaped once or twice. After pictures I took him back to the area where Shelby found him and released him. Again, no thanks. Course, you can't really expect impeccable manners from one so young. :)


Sunday and Monday were also great fun. I visited my grandmother, aunt, uncle, and cousins out in Western Oklahoma. The parental units even put in appearance on Labor Day. It was nice to not have to cook just for myself. It was also nice to have someone besides myself to talk to. :) haha. I hope I didn't just paint a picture of me in my bunkhouse every night mumbling to myself. It really doesn't happen. At least not every night.

I came back to the refuge last night. I met Shelby here in the office as I was feeding my internet addiction. He had come upon some hunters who had shot a quail that appeared to have something very wrong with it. It's beak was very deformed. Kind of like a growth or tumor on the beak. I took some pictures for him, so I'll go ahead and post them - but they're not pretty. If you happen to have seen something like this before, please let me know what it is.

Tomorrow I am going to give my very first environmental education program. I am going to do the kindergarten program and then maybe an hour later Emily is going to give the 1st/2nd grade program. Then on Thursday I'm giving another program to some 3rd graders. And next week, I have to have programs ready for a whole elementary school (K-6th grade). At the moment, I am very nervous. I hope I do okay, but I'll let you know either way.

Goings on with Wings, Rodents, and Rattles

Well. Where to start? I suppose I should mention that the roommates from a previous entry are back. They should be leaving today, and they got here Wednesday evening. The graduate student and I decided he would email me directly when he was coming, so I wouldn't be surprised like last time. So, this time, not being taken by surprise, has been a lot nicer. They still do "roommate" things, but it's easier to overlook them. I even made room for them in the fridge. I know. I'm too magnanimous for my own good. :) Oh. And I got my lighter back. I told Shelby to cancel the report on the petty theft. I think he rolled his eyes at me.

Yesterday morning I found several fun things in my traps. One, I found another Kangaroo rat in the same area where I caught the 2nd Kangaroo Rat. And before you take my "another" too seriously, I'll go ahead and confess that this was, in fact, the same 9.5 inch, female Kangaroo rat. The polish on her nails had pretty much faded, but I still detected some on her paw, where she had gotten a little squirmy and I missed. But how serendipitous was that mishap! Now I know that I should probably start painting fur as well as nails. She ended up getting another pedicure for her troubles. Funnily enough, she didn't act like she wanted to be in my gloved hand. Lots of squeaking, squirming, rapid heart beat, etc. However, when I bent close to blow on her drying nails, she got completely still and calm. Not even the little squeak after that, and she kept her eyes closed. My assumption is she realized the game was lost, and she was about to become food. I set her down by my feet and she looked around her - surprised. She actually shook her head before she took off again. Poor girl. But maybe she's learned her lesson because I didn't catch her this morning.

By yesterday morning, I thought I was pretty prepared for the types of creatures I could find in my mammal traps (really a misnomer). I had caught rodents, of course, but also frogs, snakes, and lizards (not to mention the odd number of crickets that make their way into the traps). But I thought wrong. Yesterday morning proved that. I caught a bird. Yes. A bird in a trap that was on the ground in a pasture. She (I know it was a she because of the non-distinguished coloring) was some sort of sparrow - not a House sparrow, which I've worked a lot with. I opened up the latch and she flew away, scolding and insulting me the whole time. Not my fault she has a weakness for PB and oats.

I also caught a Hispid Pocket mouse yesterday. It's a really cool creature - large for a mouse. It's related to hamsters and gerbils. It has very small ears and a large nose. It's most distinguishing physical characteristic, though, is its fur. It starts out on top with black fur with yellow tips (it kind of gives this mixed or mottled black/yellow color). On its belly it is pale - to be expected. But inbetween those two colors is this tawny, orange colored fur. This (and the two-toned tail) was how I knew that it was at least a mouse I should know (way back I took a 2 week, 3 hr Mammalogy course, where we had to identify lots and lots (upwards of 70) of mammals down to scientific name. And the two hardest groups were the bats and the rodents - so when I caught that little guy, the only thing I could think of was "remember the fur! remember the fur!" Goes to show what a 2 week long cram session can do to you. Couldn't remember the scientific or common name. Only remembered enough to know that I should know what it was!)

I called in help - a friend who had also taken the course. She got out her book, and sure enough, it was a Hispid pocket mouse. This species, like the KS glossy snake, is a species that was thought to be on the refuge, but has never been confirmed. Wrestling with my conscience, I ended up deciding to give the little guy (who growled at me, even) to Curtis so his poor snakes could eat. Mom didn't approve. I didn't approve either, really, but I told Curtis I'd help out. Then I look into those cute little rodent eyes that say "Why do you want to make a Happy Meal out of me?" and realize I've made a promise that's very hard for me to keep.

Curtis didn't help. When I gave it to him, I said how cute he (the mouse. not Curtis) was. And he looked at it and said, "Yeah....tasty!". Then to my further unwilling amusement, he bent down to peer at the tawny, orange fur and said, "Caramel!" haha. Good to have a sense of humor about these things, I guess.

When I told Emily about the mouse, I was still deciding if it was a Plains pocket mouse or a Hispid pocket mouse. So we walked down to identify it together. We saw Curtis on the way back and she so, "So!....Mouse killer!" Curtis, the snake man, just chuckled.

But before you get to thinking of Curtis as the enemy of small mammals everywhere (and me as the accomplice) this morning I found another Hispid Pocket mouse in the same exact trap, and I let it go. When I told the refuge biologist, Ron, this, he gave me this really disappointed face. It turns out, since they're a newly confirmed species, he needs a specimen (several of them, really, he tells me) to freeze and preserve. So the next ones I find, could I please bring them to him so he could kill them and freeze them? Ron then asked what else I had caught this morning, and I told him I caught a white footed mouse in the same area - that I also let go. After clearing up the confusion between "white footed mouse," "white footed deer mouse," and "white footed jumping mouse," he mentioned that, "if I would" he could use several of those too to put in what I'm affectionately calling the 'Freezer of Death'. Sigh. Given this choice of evils, I must say I'd rather see Curtis' snakes fat and sassy. Ah, well. All in the name of science... (Poke the baby rhesus monkey again, Professor Harlow! (for those who don't know what I'm talking about: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Harry_Harlow))

Yesterday, the refuge manager, Jon, and Shelby both (and at different times) reminded me that Saturday marks the first day of dove hunting season. They both thought that I might should move some of my traps that were in a heavily hunted area, lest they start walking off. So that put me this morning in another farm field further north of the refuge's hunting boundary. At first glance, I really liked the field. It was smaller and narrower, and bordered on the South end by woods, and the West and East sides by tall grass prairie habitat. Even near 10:00 in the morning, a large part of the field was shaded. It gave off this whole vibe of being remote and peaceful. I happily start re-setting up my 19 recently evicted traps. I put 9 of them right in the middle of the field and the last 10 along the western edge of it. It was there that I found this little shrubby grassy patch. I thought maybe I should put a trap there, but weirdly had this not good feeling about it. I told myself to get over it, it wasn't like there were spiders there waiting to inject poison into me. It looked like a place a K. rat might hang out.

Apparently, I wasn't the only one who thought that.

As I put the trap down, not three feet to the left of my hand I heard this rattle. At first, my sleepy brain says "Cicada". But then, a more panicky part of the nervous system replies, "Too deep to be a cicada. Has to be....Oh God!" I very hastily back up and step of the remainder of my traps. Never did see the sucker (only heard him), and I thought about going in for a closer look. I took a step before my brain brings up a video I once saw of how quickly and how far rattlesnakes can strike. So I decided I really didn't want to piss this guy off anymore. It's really pretty cool though. I've never heard a rattlesnake's rattle in real life before. Haha. I can just hear my mom saying "Oh yeah, Jenn, that's cool." Let's just hope that he's gone by the time I go to set that trap this evening.

ps - I cannot claim any pictures except the very first. But they're good, aren't they?

Sickness, Spiders, and Vultures

Sounds like a happy title for a post, no?

Well. I spent the majority of Monday morning moving around some mammal traps. I had some in the woods and in some heavily vegetated areas which probably wasn't the best idea. And before you say, "Man! What kind of biologist is this? Trying to catch Kangaroo Rats in a wooded area?!?" let me just point out that a K. rat had been caught in that area before - recently before. Not in my mammal trap, mind you, but in the drift fences we've set up there.

But, after several weeks and no rats, I gave up and decided that the one rat that was caught in the drift fence was probably lost. I moved them to a new spot called the "Hunter's 80," and I added some great new bait made of oats, chunky PB, and unshelled salty nuts. Who could resist that? However, based on previous experiences, I wouldn't let myself get too optimistic. And on Tuesday morning, I was rewarded with another Kangaroo rat in one of the newly moved traps. It was another little girl - this time 3.4 ounces and 9.5 inches long. Her tail, exactly like the other one, was 5.5 inches. I'm gonna have to see if this trend keeps up.

So, for those of you playing the home game, this means that everytime I've run the traps (at least for the past 2 times) I've caught a rat. I'm so totally on a roll! I didn't run the traps last night/this morning because I came down with a fever and throat infection.

Who knows why? Well, I kind of do. But the point is, on Monday evening I realized that every time I swallowed it felt like I was swallowing shards of glass. Tuesday morning came around and I swallowed even larger shards of glass. I went to work feeling woozy and ache-y, and at lunch I took my temperature and sure enough I was running a fever. Emily suggested I get to a doctor asap. She also suggested I stop touching things in her office (and promptly started following me around with a disinfectant wipe...).

So I made some calls and soon found myself being subjected to what Alva calls a hospital. Now, I've enjoyed the dubious services of Goddard at OU, so I wasn't expecting much. For instance, I certainly wasn't expecting the registration "office" to be a trailer in the parking lot. I definitely wasn't expecting the nurse. Once I made it into the doctor's room, she came in wheeling a blood pressure machine. She puts in right beside the sterilized bed and tries to turn it on. She tries again. Then she says, "Why won't this turn on?". I pointedly look at the plug wrapped around the back of the machine. She kind of laughs and looks around for a plug in. "I'm not used to doing this," she tells me. What, I think, being a nurse? She explains further that normally she's in ER. Haha. I can only imagine.

The doctor (whoops! sorry - the PA) comes in and we introduce each other. He takes the stick, pushes down my tongue and says, "Wow! They're really red and swollen." (He later received the Observation Award for the day). He quickly writes me a prescription for a Z-pack and tells me that he thinks it might be strep, but he isn't sure. Need I mention here that that's exactly what I said to the nurse when she asked me what was wrong?

But I shouldn't complain. He did what I needed him to do: got me in and out quickly and gave me a prescription for an antibiotic.

I'm still feeling a little puny. But no more fever and the shards are definitely getting smaller.

This morning I went to check the drift fences. There are two that I check. One is north of the Hwy, on the side of the road. I like that one. Not too many spiders. Lots of ants though (I have to be on the ball with my checking of this trap, otherwise the ants will demolish any live thing in there. I've found one lizard skeleton and lots of shells of grasshoppers and half eaten spiders. mmm - protein!). The other is South of headquarters in the woods. Lots and lots of spiders with lots and lots of webs that I walk through to get to the traps. I was walking through such a web and grimacing like I always do when I notice a tickle in my left glove. I look down. I see a nasty, horrible spider coming out of my glove.

How does a newly graduated (with Magna Cum Laude honors, even) biologist respond to this? Does she say, "Hmm....interesting. I wonder what prompted this creature to seek refuge in my glove..."? Does she put him in a container so she can accurately define him later, and then, if he is not already, put him in the refuge collection? Does she take pictures to document this close encounter with a member of a species which is thousands of years older than hers? Does she happily release him so he can continue to propagate his genes?

No. Of course not.

She screams and squeals like a hysterical girl (even giving a hysterical giggle) while she shakes off her glove, throws it on the ground, and stomps on it. Then, she pinches each of the fingers in the glove to make sure it's not in there, and if it is, it's died at least twice (they come back to life, you know). Then, while she's checking the traps, she keeps shuddering and slapping herself because she still feels it on her.

I'm not proud. But I am amused. Now that's it over, anyway.

And lastly, on my travels this morning, I notice a dead raccoon on the side of the road. As I continue with my travels up and down this road, I notice two things. One: the later it gets in the day, the more turkey vultures I see hovering over the road kill. Two: These vultures will not move - even for my big, bad refuge truck. I have to honk my horn loudly and obnoxiously. Then they will reluctantly move perhaps a grand total of 10 feet, only to quickly return as soon as I've passed by. Three: (I guess there were 3 things I noticed) the raccoon keeps scooting across the road. When I come back from setting up my traps this evening, I notice the raccoon has finally made it to the other side of the road, and there is absolutely nothing left of the raccoon but it's skin. Seriously - it had been cleaned out. Makes me think about the similarity between ants and vultures.

But the difference is, the ants started on the lizards and other various creatures in the traps while they were still alive. Ants win the creepy award for the week.

Born Free

Monday night, as previously mentioned, was not a good night for the deer censusing. Because of the lightning, thunder, and ominous clouds we had to call it quits at 11:00, before we had even finished the north transect.

But you only got one half of the story. I'm assuming because of the storm, the next morning I had a lot of activity with my mammal traps. And this morning, I use the word "mammal" lightly. Shelby had previously suggested putting one of my traps right against what we thought was a K. rat den. So, Tuesday morning, I'm groggily checking my traps, and the one flush with the den hole was closed. I pick it up, and there is definitely something live in there. I give a brief prayer of thanksgiving for finally catching a Kangaroo rat, and I slowly open the door of the trap. And...I give a loud squeak and pop the door closed again. Why? Because it wasn't a Kangaroo Rat. It was even a mammal. It was a snake. Yes! A snake in my mammal trap, and I had no idea what kind. Mentally chewing out Shelby, I put the mammal trap in my truck to take to Curtis - the herp. guy.

But we're not done yet. Before all my traps are checked I encounter a hispid cotton rat, a plains leopard frog, a cute little deer mouse, and another snake! This one I knew - the red-sided garter snake. I simply slid him out of my trap and sent him on his way. Brave, I know. :) Anyway, I take the poor, cute little deer mouse (Curtis has asked me to give him (and his snakes) any deer mice I catch. I feel bad for the mouse, but he'd probably end up as someone's food anyway - I mean he was dumb enough to get caught in a trap not even meant for him) and the unknown, scary snake back to Mr. Herp Guy so he can identify the snake. Hell, I'm not even worried about identifying him at this point, I just want him out of my mammal trap!

As luck would have it, Curtis was out for the day. Emily and I moved the snake from the mammal trap to a snake bag, and from the snake bag to a little plastic aquarium. I sheepishly realize that he is not nearly as big as I thought he was. After spending some time in our reptile books, we realize that what we have is a Kansas Glossy Snake - called glossy because of how shiny and glossy its skin is. He can be identified not only by its skin, but by a black band that "connects" the eyes of the snake (basically like a mask) and by it's plain white belly (which is apparently rare with snakes). Thinking that Curtis was out for the day, I release both the snake and the deer mouse (not together - I figure I'll pull for the underdog and give the mouse the benefit of the doubt about his ability to survive). Curtis, of course, shows up in the afternoon, very put out that a snake he hasn't gotten to spend much time with was here and now gone. You see, the glossy snake has never been confirmed as a refuge species - we thought it was here, but we weren't sure. Now, obviously, we're very sure. So, Curtis felt like he really missed out. I wisely didn't mention the mouse, and suggested I might catch him again (of course, the odds of that happening...)

What I loved about the glossy snake is that is defined as "mild mannered" and will not bite if handled - might flail a bit though. So Emily and I braved it and started handling him to take pictures. And we got some good ones. And those pictures are what I was waiting on before I posted this story. However, you're not going to get them. Emily has been gone both yesterday and today, so no pictures of that snake for you.

But don't despair. I have more to tell. Yesterday morning, I, even more groggily, am checking the funnel traps, and what should I find but a snake in one. I bring the funnel trap to eye level, and use my checklist to figure out what kind of snake it is. Glossy skin? Check. Black band connecting the eyes? Check. Plain, white belly? Check. Completely non-aggressive behavior? Check.

So there I have it. Another Kansas glossy snake. However. This isn't the same one - this one is much bigger - I guestimate about 2 1/2 long.

Still not sure about my find, I don't take it out of the trap (after all, I don't have anything to put him in, and I can't drive and deal with a snake in my lap at the same time - even a mild mannered snake). But, realizing I will make the day of a certain herpetology enthusiast, I take the snake and trap back to the refuge with me.


Sigh. Curtis was, again, out for the day. So was Emily. So - all by myself (that's the important part) I, without gloves, get the snake out of the funnel trap, play with him some, look for someone to show him to, and, realizing that no one was in the office, finally put him in the little aquarium that held his conspecific just a few days before. I called Curtis to see when he was gonna be in and what he wanted me to do with this cool creature, and he tells me to keep it until he gets back. On Tuesday. So, now I have a temporary refuge mascot, and lots of pictures have been taken. I always knew I liked snakes, but I never thought I would enjoy playing with one like I have today and yesterday. I can only hope that he isn't too stressed out. His aquarium is a little smaller than I would like, but as he seems most comfortable coiled up, I'm not too worried about it. Curtis assured me he would be fine, and he is the resident herp. expert...

But. The adventures with wildlife are not finished. Last night on the deer census, Shelby was the driver, and I was the record keeper/co-pilot and we had finished with the census and we driving back to HQ when what should hop across the road in front of us but a kangaroo rat. Sigh. Shelby laughed and said, "I told you! I told I see them everywhere!" I grimaced and thought evil thoughts about stupid kangaroo rats who were mocking my efforts to do a survey on them. Little did I know that seeing the little guy was really an omen of things to come.

Late last night we had several more thunderstorms roll through, so when I managed to bring myself to consciousness this morning (4 late nights with early mornings can really do a number on a sleep lover like me), I think that, like Tuesday morning, I'm in for several more sightings in my mammal traps - without actually seeing a Kangaroo rat, of course. So, unbelievably groggy, I check my mammal traps this morning, and nothing! I'm so disappointed, but I still have 20 traps to check. I get to the third of my last 20, and belatedly realize that both doors are shut. Wondering what I have (this is the same area where I caught the garter snake) I very cautiously open up the door to find....MY FIRST KANGAROO RAT. Sure, she was a little soggy and her fur was matted, but there she was - long tail and all. I was completely unprepared (in terms of measuring and weighing her) so I take her back to the refuge's lab with me. I find a large plastic bag, and get her from the trap into the bag, where I see, yes, in fact, she is a little girl. She was 10 inches long from the tip of her nose to the tip of her tail - 4 1/2 inches of that was her actual body, the rest was all tail. She weighed around 3.5 oz. She had hurt herself in the trap; she had some blood on her, but I couldn't find the wound, and it didn't look like a new wound, so my guess is she panicked when the trap shut on her and cut herself on a metal bit. And aside from being extremely stressed and bedraggled looking, she was completely fine. I didn't get bit (thank heavens - that is not an experience I'd like to repeat), and she got a pretty new pedicure out of the deal. I did some research, and it turns out that K. rats marked by ear tagging or other such methods actually have a higher mortality rate than K. rats marked by other, non-painful methods. Not having the funds to insert a microchip in her, we went with the next best thing: Nail polish. :)

After her pedicure, I took her back and let her go. As I released her, I sang the chorus of "Born Free". I think she appreciated it (remember, I am severely sleep deprived). She was gracious enough to freeze for me long enough to get some great pictures of her. So, now I do not have to show you a picture of a live trap, because I've actually succeeded in trapping one.

Because I'm just so proud of my animals this week, I'm gonna leave you with more pictures of both snake and rat. :)

Late Nights and early mornings

So the deer censusing is going well. As I thought, it is not as fun as it was when I did it at the OU biological station. That's just to be expected, I suppose. For the first night, Monday night, I was the record keeper so I sat in the front with Ron and we bounced our way along the north area of our census. Lightning and thunder and ominous clouds showed over head. I asked Ron, who had checked the weather before we left, if the storm was headed our way and he said that he didn't know and was really surprised. Before things got really bad, however, Shelby radioed us to tell us that yes, in fact, the storm that looked like it was upon us was actually upon us. Go figure. So we headed back to headquarters and called it quits at a very early 11 p.m.

Something I was not expecting about the deer censusing (as perhaps I should have) are all the many hairy, ugly, big brown spiders that like to make their webs spanning the trees on either side of the roads we drive. Luckily for me, the first night, I was treated like the girl of the group (which I was) and put in the front seat. So I didn't have to deal with them as much as the spotlighters in the back of the truck did. However. I was the appointed gate opener. As Ron and I were the only ones with gate keys, and Ron was driving, it fell to me to open the gates. No big deal. I'm a big fan of keys and locks. Used them for the majority of my life. What did upset me were the many hairy, ugly, big brown spiders that made their webs on the gates, above the gates, beside the gates, probably under the gates. To my utter dismay, I found myself doing the helpless-girl-who-hates-spiders dance. Maybe I even squealed... It's hard to recall the exact moment when all the burly men (most of them game wardens or farmers) in the back of the truck started chuckling.

I tackled the dance and the squeal, if not the fear. As they say that courage is not having no fear, but mainly not letting that fear rule you, I would say I'm pretty damn brave girl. For, realizing that going back to the truck, flitting my eyelashes at one of the said burly men, and getting them to rescue the distressed damsel was completely out of the question, I unlocked the gate and pushed it open - with my booted foot, of course. Not like I was gonna touch the thing. But I wasn't done. After opening the gate, I had to wait for the truck to pass through and then I had to shut the gate - which definitely takes more time and gate/lock manipulation. Luckily for me, the kick that opened the gate dislodged many of my would be killers.

*I thought about putting a picture up of what these beasties look like, but realizing I'd have to look at them again, I'm not gonna. You're just gonna have to use your imagination.*

Aside from the gate issues (and really, the first one was the worst - none of the others were nearly so covered), it was a really interesting couple of hours. Aside from lots and lots of deer, we saw a skunk, several raccoons, and 4 coyotes. Yep. First time I've ever seen coyotes in the wild. It was wonderful, even though they were really far away.

Making our way back down the hwy after Shelby informed us that the lightning, thunder and ominous clouds were not just in our imagination, I see a baby raccoon in the road. I've spent time with raccoons. They're a pain on the best of days. Too curious and too intelligent for their own good (or maybe too curious and intelligent for our own good...). Nevertheless, seeing a baby raccoon still causes me to coo. I thought surely Ron was going to swerve. Surely....but no. I didn't hear a bump, and the next day I didn't see any remnants of raccoon road kill, but we did, in fact, drive over a baby raccoon. I call this to Ron's attention who sheepishly tells me he was actually watching the spotlights in the pastures rather than the road. I don't say anything to this, just make sure I'm still buckled in. :)

Last night was more of a success in more ways than one. First of all, we had an extra guy in the back, so - to give him something to do, Ron tells me - he gets my keys and gate duty. It was surprising the amount of relief that went through me. Secondly, it didn't storm on us so we got to do the full census. Thirdly, in the spot on the hwy were we drove over a baby raccoon, I looked to the side of the road, and what did I see but a baby raccoon. :) There's no way to tell if it is the baby raccoon, but I look at it as a good sign nonetheless.

Fourthly, I got out of my girly position as co-pilot/record keeper (secretary) and spent some time actually spotlighting. "What about the spiders??" you may ask. Well, I planned for this and remained as co-pilot for all our woodsy areas. When we took our break between north and south, I hopped up in back. This left me with a lot of pasture land with no trees in sight - hence no spiders making webs spanning the width of the road, hanging on to trees. Now, before you congratulate me on a plan well formed, I need to say that I did, in fact, forget some of the wooded areas on the south. And we did run into some spiders. Normally one of us (or Ron) was keeping an eye on the road for spiders, and would give us a heads up. It was like someone saying "HIT THE DECK!!" during a naval war - we all ducked down behind the cab of the truck as quickly as we could - other peoples' body parts and spotlights connecting and jarring. But it didn't matter, we didn't want a spider on us. I felt extremely sheepish doing this until I realized that, really, I wasn't the only one. And all these burly game wardens, deputies, and farmers didn't like spiders either. Hah. Now who's chuckling??

The strangest thing about this week is that my days actually start at around 6:00. It is then I go out and set my mammal traps (ooh. And do I have stories about yesterday's catch, but I won't tell until I get the pictures from Emily). Then I eat a quick dinner and head over to HQ to meet everyone and get started on the census. That ends around 1:30 - 2:00. Then I go home for a 4 hour nap. Get up, eat something, and wonder why my eyes are so bloodshot. I check the mammal traps and the drift fences around 7:30 (can't do it any later because if I do have animals in the traps, they'll bake in the sun), maybe do some other type of work. Then I go home, eat something, and crash for the whole of the late morning and afternoon. I suppose that since this is when I'm getting the majority of my sleep, this is why it feels like my day actually starts at 6 pm instead of earlier at 7:30 am. It's very odd.

But keeping in line with that train of thought, it is very late for me, and time for me to get some shut eye. Hopefully I'll get to tell you about the mammal traps experience tomorrow.

ps - I didn't take any of the pics in this post. I'm falling behind, I know. But it's hard enough to combat spiders, record numbers, look through binoculars, and look at the road for Ron, let alone take pictures!

Four weeks already??

Sometime yesterday I realized that I'm already 4 weeks into my internship. How time flies!

Last week was pretty good. It was ridiculously hot in the afternoons. Friday was cloudy and spitted rain a little (thanks to a certain tropical storm that has since sent rain to flood Norman, Kingfisher, etc.) so while that took away the burning day-star, it made the day severely humid. Ah well.

On Thursday I did the South transect of the Horned lizard census on an ATV. There were several reasons to try this out, but the biggest one is that we weren't having much luck walking the transects. The refuge manager told me he saw several of them while driving, the assistant manager spooked up one on an ATV, a YCC (youth conservation corps) kid spooked up two on a mower. Hmm... Methinks I see a pattern. And, after thinking about it, I remember Dad used to always see them while he was mowing the pastures behind our house. So. I tried an ATV on Thursday. And nearly killed myself.

Let me explain. The south end of the transect (remember this is really an old railway with all the rails pulled up) had three bridges that have since been taken out. So what is left are three very deep ravines. They are all very overgrown. The S. end of the railway also is covered with this thick, big, loose pieces of gravel. Luckily for me, courtesy of refuge law enforcement, an ATV had made its way down the ravines a couple of days earlier, leaving me tracks in the thick grass. I came upon the first ravine and apprehensively followed the tracks straight down the incline (all my logic said to take it at an angle because going straight down brought visions of the atv flipping over me). I lost my nerve going back up and left the tracks and took the incline at the angle I thought I should. Well, I hit a patch of uneven gravel and felt my atv tip dangerously. I panicked a little, and hopped off the atv. I turned off the atv. Walked up the rest of the incline and put down my very heavy backpack. I pushed and pulled my atv back onto level (if still steep) ground. Gave a seconds thought to trying to pull the thing up the rest of the way, but quickly realized I was not Shera (sister to Heman). I tentatively got back on and drove up the rest of the way without mishap.

Okay, so maybe not "nearly killed myself" but still scary at the time.

I didn't encounter any other serious problems with the ATV after that. The other two ravines simply caused a thumping, nervous heart beat, but nothing more.

And, in the end, it was completely worth it because I did manage to get a horned lizard to running. And what's even better is that I managed to catch him. He was not happy to hang out with me, but we managed to get all the measurements recorded and all the photographs taken. Then he was let go to scurry back into the tall grass with nary a grateful glance for not eating him or otherwise harming him. These animals have no manners...
During the hot afternoons this week, I kept myself busy by calling for volunteers for our spotlight deer censusing, that will start tomorrow night. I called one the guy who takes charge of the YCC every summer to ask him. He and I didn't get to spend much time together, but we did chat some before the YCC was done for the summer. After we settled on the night for him to come out, he told me he had heard I was looking to apply for the job here. (It's really surprising - even for a small town girl - how quickly news travels around the refuge, and off of it, apparently) He told me he was glad I was applying, and that while he didn't get to know me very well, he thought I would be great for it, and if I needed someone to put in a good word for me, just to let him know.

Sigh. It's so nice to hear something like that. Really gave me a boost of confidence. Still need to talk to the refuge manager about it though...

On Thursday afternoon, the refuge biologist (the guy I've been doing the Least Tern censusing with) and I went driving. He wanted me to see the route we'll be taking for the spotlighting in the daylight. I think about 19 miles of actual census, and the rest will be traveling to the areas. It's hard to believe right now that 19 miles will take about 5 hours to census. There must be a lot of deer to count!

Friday morning, I checked my traps and the two drift fences close to the refuge (nada and nada), and then I went driving with Ron (refuge biologist) again. We drove to the very South tip of the refuge to show me where we'd be censusing there, and we also checked the last drift fence that I don't normally check. We were in his truck, which means that I didn't have my snake tongs or identification book.Sigh. Sure enough, now that I wasn't prepared, there was my first snake in one of the funnel traps. I had no idea what it was, and Ron had a hard time recalling the name. All this time, the snake is striking at Ron - very aggressive! In the end, Ron tells me we better take it in so we can identify it. I look at him with the complete trust of the amateur to the expert, completely confident he would show me how to do something like this. Then he says, "You have your gloves right? You better go get them..."

I think, "You want me to do wha.....?" (And to emphasize my thoughts, the snake strikes again. I flinch.Sure, he's not poisonous, but a snake bite is a snake bite!) I take a renewed interest in identifying him on the spot. So I ask Ron again, and finally he comes up with the name. The Great Plains Ratsnake, he thinks. We decide we'll let him go, and because he know what he looks like, we can look him up when we get back if need be. He then walks on, leaving me with the funnel trap and very upset ratsnake. More than a little nervous, I take off the end of the funnel trap and slide the snake out as far away from me as I can. He just sits there, coiled. Looking really cool, if also really menacing. I help check the rest of the traps and by the time I come back, he's gone. (By the way, I did not take that picture. I didn't even think about photographing the guy we caught. Sigh. I'll know better next time...)

After that adventure, I decide to go run the other end of the railway on the ATV. It's not very sunny, in fact, it's a very overcast day. But I thought the Horned Lizards might be out anyway. I loaded up the ATV on the back of my truck (no trailer because then I'd have to figure out how to back the stupid thing, and don't really feel like denting any government trucks in the learning process) and headed out to the north end of the railway.

As I suspected, no horned lizards. I saw a couple of prairie-lined racerunners though. On my way back, I actually spotted a Night Hawk sitting maybe about 15 feet in front of me. I slow down and rumble up to it. He looks at me, but does not move. I pull up right beside him and stop. He looks at me and shuffles over an inch. I swear it couldn't have been more than that. Hah. I love Night Hawks! It was like he was telling me he wasn't afraid of the big bad ATV. Of course, I know it wasn't that. My guess is he knows that his best bet of not being eaten is to stay completely still, regardless of how close danger may come. Because if he stays still enough, a predator may not see him. Hence why they only fly off at the last possible second. It's very interesting stuff.

His one inch shuffle amused me to no end, so I decided to take some pictures. I took several, and then wondered how close he would let me get. As soon as my feet touched the ground, he decided he'd had enough and took off. I hopped back on and continued on my way, only to come upon him again maybe 2 minutes later. He graciously offered me another angle to photograph. When I took what was to be my last picture, he opened up his beak, and I thought "oh perfect!". But then his beak started quivering - no, really! With the quivering lower lip and the big eyes, I gushed like the girl I am, and left him alone. Maybe that's a last defense to would-be predators - "I'm too cute to eat!!"

Who Called This Meeting?

The other day, when I was moving my traps from the Jet Rec area to the pasture land along Hwy 11, I noticed something extremely odd. Although, to be fair, Emily noticed it first, and pointed it out to me. We were driving past Cottonwood point (which is a stop off Hwy 38 to see the reservoir (there's also a boat ramp there, but I've been told numerous times it's not a good one)) when Emily pointed out all the many, many Turkey Vultures sitting in the trees there. We pulled off the road to take some pictures, and notice more along the ground. Just...sitting. We slowly drove up and saw nothing dead or out of the ordinary. They were just sitting. Together, all hanging out. My guess is they were talking about where all the good eating spots were along the highway.



But, after thinking about it, I realized that what it really reminded me of was this: