As the time for me to leave San Saba approaches, I am realizing there is so much I am going to miss:
1. Spending my days with Liz, Juan Jose, Kristen, John, and Jimma
2. The sweet country air
3. Blaring country music while doing PNC and Anabat checks
4. Spending my nights under the stars and playing with bats
5. Having the freedom to squat down and pee when/where ever I need to
6. Skinny dipping
7. Dinners with John, Jimma, and Co.
8. Running with Coqueta and Laika
9. Rodeos and cowboys
10. Hanging on to the back of the SUV holding an antenna and receiver as Liz drives over bumpy country roads tracking bats
11. Visits from the UPS man
12. Visits from drunken cowboys while mist netting
13. Trips to Austin every month
14. Country dancing
15. Lifting John’s weights outside under ornamental animal skulls
16. Fresh vegetables straight from the garden and fresh, unpasteurized goat milk
17. Driving down the road and seeing a cowboy hat on the head of each driver
18. Waving at the cars passing down dirt road
19. The people I have met and have come to love
Saturday, August 1, 2009
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Tail Between My Legs
In June we began to alternate 2 week cycles of mist netting and radio tracking. However, since our last radio tracking cycle was very unsuccessful, Liz decided that we would radio track during this mist netting cycle. Nycticeius humeralis (evening bats) are the bats of primary interest for radio tracking because they forage locally and we have hopes that they are remaining in the orchards at night and eating pecan pests. About 4 days ago we caught a male Nycticeius and so began our simultaneous mist netting and radio tracking cycle!
Two nights ago I went out to radio track the bat from its roost while Kristen and Liz set up nets and insect traps in an adjacent orchard. The bat soon tired of foraging around his roost tree and took off to the Leonard conventional orchard that lies behind a barbed wire fence. There was no choice but to follow: where the bat goes, I go. So with 5 foot pole, antenna, receiver, walkie talkie, GPS, compass, and head lamp I attempted to gracefully cross over the three foot high barbed wire fence. I was doing well up until I was ready to swing my second leg over the fence and the barbed wire snagged me in my crotchetal region. Nice addition to the cuts from the cactus thorns I had gotten personally acquainted with the night before. It took a few minutes, but I was able to extricate myself from this awkward situation and proceeded to follow the bat into the orchard.
Conventional orchards are characterized by tilled rows of trees, which easily become very dry and dusty. Liz soon joined me and we were immediately covered in dust. Luckily, the bat decided to make a short visit in this orchard and about an hour later started back for his roost. He settled down for a time, allowing Liz and I a chance to take shifts and get a bit of shut eye. I offered to stay up first. The bat has been roosting in a Live Oak grove that has tall, thick stalked plants sprouting from the ground. They reach about three feet and cover most of the floor of the grove. I settled down on Coqueta’s doggie blanket, took out my book, and made myself comfortable as Liz snoozed. The constant beep from the radio receiver assured me that the bat was happily relaxing at home and I quickly became absorbed in my book.
It was not too long though before I heard a rustling in the tall grasses. At first I figured it was Coqueta coming over from the car where she had been resting, but I didn’t hear the jingling of her collar. Then, I heard grunting and snorting noises, not typical of canines. Oh no, it’s a boar, I thought! Unfortunately, the leather Indian Jones bull whip I have taken to carrying around was laying uselessly in the car where Liz was sleeping. Quickly, I detached the plastic 5 foot long tube attached to the antenna and brandished it over my head. I could see the grass moving, and the hog was heading towards me. Coqueta, who had initially been interested, turned, tail between her legs, and fled to the shelter of the car. Desperate for human reassurance, I reached down and grabbed the walkie talkie to radio Kristen who was manning the nets, but she did not answer. I later found out that she had been checking nets and had forgotten the radio at the table. I was on my own. Tightening my hands on the pole, I took at deep breath, and boldly stomped forward. Grunting and whooping, I decided to attempt to scare off the hog. My plan back fired. The hog must have taken my noises not as a threat, but instead as a challenge and lunged towards me.
I wish I could say I stood my ground and whapped the thing on the head, but instead I squealed and jumped aside, running from the beast charging toward me. Being chased by an animal you can see is scary enough, but it is even more frightening when you cannot tell exactly where it is. The thick grass hid the hog and only the parting of the long stalks gave me an idea of where he was. My scream must have scared him off, because I turned to see the grass part out into the meadow where the shadow disappeared into the darkness. My heart was pounding and the pole was slick with the sweat from my hands, but I felt a glow of satisfaction knowing that I had survived. My actions may not have been brave, but at least I had escaped injury. I forced myself back to my spot next to the receiver under the roost until Liz came to relieve me.
I spent the intervening half hour cursing Coqueta’s cowardice and sat with my ears perked for any hint of the boar’s return, which (thank God) did materialize again. But I now am prepared for next time (which I hope will never come to pass): I will scream like a girl and run for my life; the hog will be so busy laughing at this pitiful sight, he will forget his original business.
Two nights ago I went out to radio track the bat from its roost while Kristen and Liz set up nets and insect traps in an adjacent orchard. The bat soon tired of foraging around his roost tree and took off to the Leonard conventional orchard that lies behind a barbed wire fence. There was no choice but to follow: where the bat goes, I go. So with 5 foot pole, antenna, receiver, walkie talkie, GPS, compass, and head lamp I attempted to gracefully cross over the three foot high barbed wire fence. I was doing well up until I was ready to swing my second leg over the fence and the barbed wire snagged me in my crotchetal region. Nice addition to the cuts from the cactus thorns I had gotten personally acquainted with the night before. It took a few minutes, but I was able to extricate myself from this awkward situation and proceeded to follow the bat into the orchard.
Conventional orchards are characterized by tilled rows of trees, which easily become very dry and dusty. Liz soon joined me and we were immediately covered in dust. Luckily, the bat decided to make a short visit in this orchard and about an hour later started back for his roost. He settled down for a time, allowing Liz and I a chance to take shifts and get a bit of shut eye. I offered to stay up first. The bat has been roosting in a Live Oak grove that has tall, thick stalked plants sprouting from the ground. They reach about three feet and cover most of the floor of the grove. I settled down on Coqueta’s doggie blanket, took out my book, and made myself comfortable as Liz snoozed. The constant beep from the radio receiver assured me that the bat was happily relaxing at home and I quickly became absorbed in my book.
It was not too long though before I heard a rustling in the tall grasses. At first I figured it was Coqueta coming over from the car where she had been resting, but I didn’t hear the jingling of her collar. Then, I heard grunting and snorting noises, not typical of canines. Oh no, it’s a boar, I thought! Unfortunately, the leather Indian Jones bull whip I have taken to carrying around was laying uselessly in the car where Liz was sleeping. Quickly, I detached the plastic 5 foot long tube attached to the antenna and brandished it over my head. I could see the grass moving, and the hog was heading towards me. Coqueta, who had initially been interested, turned, tail between her legs, and fled to the shelter of the car. Desperate for human reassurance, I reached down and grabbed the walkie talkie to radio Kristen who was manning the nets, but she did not answer. I later found out that she had been checking nets and had forgotten the radio at the table. I was on my own. Tightening my hands on the pole, I took at deep breath, and boldly stomped forward. Grunting and whooping, I decided to attempt to scare off the hog. My plan back fired. The hog must have taken my noises not as a threat, but instead as a challenge and lunged towards me.
I wish I could say I stood my ground and whapped the thing on the head, but instead I squealed and jumped aside, running from the beast charging toward me. Being chased by an animal you can see is scary enough, but it is even more frightening when you cannot tell exactly where it is. The thick grass hid the hog and only the parting of the long stalks gave me an idea of where he was. My scream must have scared him off, because I turned to see the grass part out into the meadow where the shadow disappeared into the darkness. My heart was pounding and the pole was slick with the sweat from my hands, but I felt a glow of satisfaction knowing that I had survived. My actions may not have been brave, but at least I had escaped injury. I forced myself back to my spot next to the receiver under the roost until Liz came to relieve me.
I spent the intervening half hour cursing Coqueta’s cowardice and sat with my ears perked for any hint of the boar’s return, which (thank God) did materialize again. But I now am prepared for next time (which I hope will never come to pass): I will scream like a girl and run for my life; the hog will be so busy laughing at this pitiful sight, he will forget his original business.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
A Pseudo "Lyme Condition" (LC)
I used to wonder what it would feel like to be old. It was always hard to imagine since I am in my youth and enjoy running and weight lifting, swimming and horseback riding, and just moving in general. Well, I need wonder no more because I have “traveled” forward in time and experienced it all for myself...and all thanks to a tick.
About three weeks ago I began to feel the transformation. While mist netting one night, my head began to throb painfully, to the extent that I was seeing dark blotches and felt as though I was about to faint. In the morning the nausea came; I could hardly eat because every time I did I got sick. After a day or two I really began to worry because I felt achy all over, and not just as if I had the flu. My joints ached everywhere: in my knees, my fingers, my wrists, my elbows, and my neck was stiff. It was as if I had developed rheumatoid arthritis overnight. Throughout it all I was exhausted; I still can’t comprehend how I motivated myself and made it through the rest of the mist netting cycle.
I had started to feel strange on Wednesday and by the following Saturday I was pretty sure I had Lyme disease and headed off to the clinic in San Saba. I arrived to find it closed. Apparently it people don’t get sick on weekends in small towns. I was concerned because Lyme is a bacteria and can be cured, but if it is left untreated it becomes chronic and stays with you for the rest of your life...I was worried I would remain an 80 year old for the rest of my life. I called Jimma from town to see if she knew of any other clinics nearby, but she said the nearest clinic was about 45 minutes away, so I decided I would wait until Monday. Fortunately, Jimma has the best timing. She hadn’t known I was sick before I called that afternoon, but coincidentally she had already invited a couple neighbors who are doctors over to dinner that evening.
The second I walked into John and Jimma’s house that night I was greeted with anxious questions concerning my health. “What’s wrong?” and “How are you feeling?” “Let us see your insect bites!” I was touched by their concern, but somewhat embarrassed as they scrutinized my hairy, bug bitten, red legs. (I have a picture of the bulls-eye rash that developed on my leg, but I will spare y’all). I was surrounded by people in the medical profession, who all happen to live within three minutes of one another: Jim Conyers is a surgeon, Jerry Thompson is a GP, and Linda Thompson (his wife) is a nurse. The consensus was that I most likely had STARI (Southern Tick Associated Rash Illness), not Lyme. STARI is much more common in Texas, as the name suggests, but is very similar to Lyme (same genus of bacteria, but different species). I was given a name of a doctor at the clinic and lots of advice and information that helped assuage my nervousness. I am so fortunate to have found such wonderful people; I have found a second family for the summer.
I was itching to get to the clinic on Monday and get antibiotics, but I was wary because Jim had cautioned me that the doctor may be hesitant to give me medicine or to diagnose me with STARI. There is a blood test available, but false negatives occur about 40% of the time and the antibodies may not build up until 8 months after contracting the disease. As a result, I was prepared to argue, persuade, or charm a prescription from the doctor. Before I left, Kristen gave me a pep talk and made me promise not to leave the clinic without medicine. I gritted my teeth and drove off to the clinic on a mission. My confidence dwindled a bit when the receptionist shrank back and shot me a wary and slightly disgusted glance when I explained why I was there. I guess my description of the plethora of bug bites and my symptoms was a bit daunting, but I had expected the professionals at the clinic to take it well. Fortunately I pulled myself together by the time I was taken back to the doctor and as I sat waiting I gathered my symptoms in my mind and created a logical and coherent argument as to why the doctor should give me a prescription. When he entered, I attempted to look as tired and ill as possible, sulking quietly and miserably in the corner. This actually really was not very difficult as I felt extraordinarily miserable to begin with.
When the door opened and the doctor walked in, I took a deep breath and began. I explained my symptoms, how I had contracted the disease through the field work, how all the neighboring doctors thought it was STARI, that there are tests but they have a high rate of false negatives, and what medicine I needed according to Jim, John, and Linda. I was pleasantly surprised and relieved when the doctor almost immediately told me he agreed and that I needed to be put on antibiotics. It was only about a matter of 10 minutes before I was out the door and on my way to the pharmacy. Three days later I was feeling as though I was in my fifties, a considerable improvement, and by the end of the week I felt like 20 again!
About three weeks ago I began to feel the transformation. While mist netting one night, my head began to throb painfully, to the extent that I was seeing dark blotches and felt as though I was about to faint. In the morning the nausea came; I could hardly eat because every time I did I got sick. After a day or two I really began to worry because I felt achy all over, and not just as if I had the flu. My joints ached everywhere: in my knees, my fingers, my wrists, my elbows, and my neck was stiff. It was as if I had developed rheumatoid arthritis overnight. Throughout it all I was exhausted; I still can’t comprehend how I motivated myself and made it through the rest of the mist netting cycle.
I had started to feel strange on Wednesday and by the following Saturday I was pretty sure I had Lyme disease and headed off to the clinic in San Saba. I arrived to find it closed. Apparently it people don’t get sick on weekends in small towns. I was concerned because Lyme is a bacteria and can be cured, but if it is left untreated it becomes chronic and stays with you for the rest of your life...I was worried I would remain an 80 year old for the rest of my life. I called Jimma from town to see if she knew of any other clinics nearby, but she said the nearest clinic was about 45 minutes away, so I decided I would wait until Monday. Fortunately, Jimma has the best timing. She hadn’t known I was sick before I called that afternoon, but coincidentally she had already invited a couple neighbors who are doctors over to dinner that evening.
The second I walked into John and Jimma’s house that night I was greeted with anxious questions concerning my health. “What’s wrong?” and “How are you feeling?” “Let us see your insect bites!” I was touched by their concern, but somewhat embarrassed as they scrutinized my hairy, bug bitten, red legs. (I have a picture of the bulls-eye rash that developed on my leg, but I will spare y’all). I was surrounded by people in the medical profession, who all happen to live within three minutes of one another: Jim Conyers is a surgeon, Jerry Thompson is a GP, and Linda Thompson (his wife) is a nurse. The consensus was that I most likely had STARI (Southern Tick Associated Rash Illness), not Lyme. STARI is much more common in Texas, as the name suggests, but is very similar to Lyme (same genus of bacteria, but different species). I was given a name of a doctor at the clinic and lots of advice and information that helped assuage my nervousness. I am so fortunate to have found such wonderful people; I have found a second family for the summer.
I was itching to get to the clinic on Monday and get antibiotics, but I was wary because Jim had cautioned me that the doctor may be hesitant to give me medicine or to diagnose me with STARI. There is a blood test available, but false negatives occur about 40% of the time and the antibodies may not build up until 8 months after contracting the disease. As a result, I was prepared to argue, persuade, or charm a prescription from the doctor. Before I left, Kristen gave me a pep talk and made me promise not to leave the clinic without medicine. I gritted my teeth and drove off to the clinic on a mission. My confidence dwindled a bit when the receptionist shrank back and shot me a wary and slightly disgusted glance when I explained why I was there. I guess my description of the plethora of bug bites and my symptoms was a bit daunting, but I had expected the professionals at the clinic to take it well. Fortunately I pulled myself together by the time I was taken back to the doctor and as I sat waiting I gathered my symptoms in my mind and created a logical and coherent argument as to why the doctor should give me a prescription. When he entered, I attempted to look as tired and ill as possible, sulking quietly and miserably in the corner. This actually really was not very difficult as I felt extraordinarily miserable to begin with.
When the door opened and the doctor walked in, I took a deep breath and began. I explained my symptoms, how I had contracted the disease through the field work, how all the neighboring doctors thought it was STARI, that there are tests but they have a high rate of false negatives, and what medicine I needed according to Jim, John, and Linda. I was pleasantly surprised and relieved when the doctor almost immediately told me he agreed and that I needed to be put on antibiotics. It was only about a matter of 10 minutes before I was out the door and on my way to the pharmacy. Three days later I was feeling as though I was in my fifties, a considerable improvement, and by the end of the week I felt like 20 again!
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
What Batologists Do on Their Nights Off
I only have one night off every two weeks (unless there is inclement weather which is rare), so when I am given a night off it is a big deal and a very welcome break from my work. This past Saturday Liz gave us the night off and it was perfect timing because it was the weekend of the San Saba rodeo and country dance! San Saba is a very small town, but from what I had heard the rodeo would be well attended. I had never been to a rodeo before since I do not enjoy watching the bronco and bull riding, but I was eager to see the barrel racing event and just be around the smell and sounds of horses.
Before we could leave for the rodeo, which began at 7pm, we had a few small chores we had to finish so that we would be ready to mist net the next night. All we had left to do was check PNC traps and since it was swelteringly hot outside, we decided we would go for a swim in the river once we finished and before heading back to the house to get ready for our big night. As we were walking to the river we decided that swimming in and of itself was not exciting enough. Recalling Liz’s stories of skinny dipping in Costa Rica and with adrenaline pumping through our bodies at the prospect of our fun night, we found ourselves sufficiently motivated to strip off all of our clothes and dive into the San Saba River.
For those of you who have never experienced skinny dipping, I highly recommend it. I felt liberated and the thought that we might be caught red handed in the middle of the day made it all the more of an adventure. Usually we are the only people in this area of the river since it is on John and Jimma’s private property, however on this particular day voices floated down to us from up stream. It wasn’t long before we saw a person around the river bend, so we hastily grabbed our swimming suits from a hanging branch and surreptitiously exited the water. I think we made it safely to shore and I am hoping no one caught a glimpse of my pasty white backside.
Revived from our refreshing and adventurous trip to the river, Kristen and I rushed back to the house and prettied ourselves up for the rodeo. I have worn makeup only once this summer, so it felt strange to get ready. I also have not shaven my legs for the whole summer and decided to let them remain hairy for the rodeo. I have gotten attached to my furry appendages and the chance of attracting some attention from cowboys did not seem enough of an incentive to me. Not shaving just seems to go along with the atmosphere of this summer. Somehow roughing it and going natural makes the experience feel more authentic.
When we were finally ready, we drove into town, our spirits high with excitement. It was a gorgeous day and the sun was setting a brilliant red/orange. I brought my red and white spaghetti strap dress that flares out around me when I twirl for the dance, but was disappointed that I had no cowgirl boots to accompany it. The cowboys did not seem to mind my lack of boots or my hairy legs for as soon as Kristen and I stepped out of the car we were blinded with dazzling smiles from the cowboys. There is something very appealing about a man who dresses nicely and these cowboys knew how to dress. Shiny cowboy boots, colorful long sleeve button up shirts, and fancy cowboy hats to top it all off. Not to mention shiny silver belt buckles that gleamed in the setting sun. Yes, the men looked very nice, but I could not take my eyes off of the beautiful horses they were riding. I think I may have disappointed a few men as they realized my appreciative gaze landed on their mounts instead of on themselves. Kristen had a hard time pulling me away from the horses, but eventually we made our way to the bleachers and watched the rodeo events.
The bull riding and bucking broncos were unpleasant to watch, but I really enjoyed the barrel racing and the overall environment. Unfortunately, there was a rodeo clown and as most of you know I hate clowns. This one was particularly annoying as it took time away from the horses and made very bad jokes. During these boring intermissions, Kristen and I entertained ourselves by looking for cowboys to dance with later in the night. We spend all of our time on John and Jimma’s orchard and don’t run into the locals on a weekly basis, so the thought of meeting new people was very exciting.
Once the rodeo ended, most people made their way over to the outdoor dance floor. There was live music and it was a clear night so the stars were shining brightly overhead. There is very little light pollution out here, so the stars are extraordinarily bright; sometimes it is so bright I do not need to use my head lamp at night. Kristen and I were unfamiliar with any of the country dancing so we spent some time on the side watching some of the older couples and pretty soon the two of us picked it up. Unfortunately, none of the men had asked us to dance, so we decided to dance with each other for a song.
As we walked off the dance floor, Kristen was immediately approached by an Argentinean man who asked her to dance. His friend Frederico came over and began chatting with me. I found out that he and his friends are from Argentina and are polo riders on Tommy Lee Jones’ ranch, which is in San Saba! Liz and Juan Jose had met us at the rodeo, and they began chatting with the polo riders in Spanish and I was excited that I could understand almost all of what was being said.
Frederico’s friend Jose asked me to dance and I had a fun time teaching him the country dance I had just taught myself Jose explained that after each song, everyone leaves the dance floor to grab a quick drink and then heads back onto the dance floor. If a guy asks you to dance again, it is a sign that he thinks you are a good dancer and is interested. I think this was a hint, because Jose continued to ask me to dance. After a few songs we decided to take a short break and went over to talk to his friends. I noticed that Carlos, the guy Kristen had been dancing with, was moping and I also noticed that Kristen was not around.
“Where did Kristen go?” I asked him. “She is dancing with another man,” he dejectedly waved his hand in the direction of the dance floor. “I don’t want to cry in front of everyone, but…you know…my heart, it is breaking.” I did feel sorry for him, but I had to hide a smile. Latin American men can be very melodramatic. Eventually Kristen returned, and Carlos swept her off her feet to the dance floor again and monopolized her for the rest of the time he remained. It was not too long, however, before the Argentineans said their goodbyes as they headed off to a party at a friend’s house. They tried very hard to get us to come, but we insisted we wanted to stay at the dance. Jose asked for my email (since my stupid phone has decided not to work!) and pecked me on the cheek goodnight. I am really hoping he emails so that I can visit Tommy Lee Jones’ ranch. He has 320 horses!
Liz and Juan Jose headed home shortly after, so Kristen and I were left standing alone for a bit. A group of cowboys that we had seen earlier in the night was standing next to us and I was desperately hoping that they would ask us to dance. Unfortunately, they were surrounded by a throng of girls from the rodeo who were way too young for them. Kristen and I were just about to go dance with each other when a striking cowboy in a pink long sleeved shirt and a white cowboy hat walked over and asked Kristen to dance. Following his cowboy booted heels was his friend who asked me to dance. I was so ecstatic and excited to be dancing with a cowboy! The Argentineans were a lot of fun, but I wanted the authentic Texas experience
The cowboy and I introduced ourselves and asked where the other was from and what we were doing in San Saba. His name was Cody and he had come to San Saba to ride in the rodeo! He had ridden a bucking bronco earlier in the evening and I was surprised he was up for dancing. I really dislike the bronco riding, but it was interesting to hear him talk about the sport. He was a nice enough guy, but was quite full of himself and was a terrible teacher. Everyone else was doing the dance I had learned earlier, but for some reason Cody decided to mix it up. This would have been fine except that it resulted in him smashing my toes with his cowboy boots since he ignored my requests to teach me the song. Despite all that, it was still really fun.
He led me off the dance floor at the end of the song and we started chatting. Eventually his friend Blake strolled over. Blake is not what my type is typically: very tall, burly and gruff looking, but I had the most fun with him. I think Blake had wanted to dance with me earlier, but had been too shy to ask because he looked over questioningly at Cody who then said to me, “You should dance with this guy. He’s a great dancer!”
“I would love to, but I don’t know all the dances.” I replied, hoping that Blake would offer to teach me.
“Oh I’m a great teacher, don’t worry! Come on!” Blake enthusiastically explained and then led me out onto the dance floor. Despite his large size he was very graceful and he really was a patient and knowledgeable teacher. We must have made quite the picture: little me in a red and white striped dress and his stalwart frame towering over me in his cowboy boots and hat. Blake and I had a great time dancing and talking. He asked about me and I explained that I went to school in Boston and was here for the summer researching bats. He was the most enthusiastic listener I have found thus far. He kept asking me questions and at one point exclaimed that I was “like the people on the Discovery channel.” I found that rather entertaining.
When the song ended, we left the dance floor and started talking with some of his friends. I danced with Cody a few more times, but I really looked forward to the dances with Blake. As I got the hang of the dance, he started twirling and spinning me around. We made a very good dance couple and I really enjoyed the night.
Eventually the band packed up and we had to leave, but by the time the night ended, I had seen my first rodeo, danced with Argentinean polo riders from Tommy Lee Jones’ ranch, and danced the night away with Texan cowboys! I think it was quite a success and I can’t wait for my next rodeo.
Before we could leave for the rodeo, which began at 7pm, we had a few small chores we had to finish so that we would be ready to mist net the next night. All we had left to do was check PNC traps and since it was swelteringly hot outside, we decided we would go for a swim in the river once we finished and before heading back to the house to get ready for our big night. As we were walking to the river we decided that swimming in and of itself was not exciting enough. Recalling Liz’s stories of skinny dipping in Costa Rica and with adrenaline pumping through our bodies at the prospect of our fun night, we found ourselves sufficiently motivated to strip off all of our clothes and dive into the San Saba River.
For those of you who have never experienced skinny dipping, I highly recommend it. I felt liberated and the thought that we might be caught red handed in the middle of the day made it all the more of an adventure. Usually we are the only people in this area of the river since it is on John and Jimma’s private property, however on this particular day voices floated down to us from up stream. It wasn’t long before we saw a person around the river bend, so we hastily grabbed our swimming suits from a hanging branch and surreptitiously exited the water. I think we made it safely to shore and I am hoping no one caught a glimpse of my pasty white backside.
Revived from our refreshing and adventurous trip to the river, Kristen and I rushed back to the house and prettied ourselves up for the rodeo. I have worn makeup only once this summer, so it felt strange to get ready. I also have not shaven my legs for the whole summer and decided to let them remain hairy for the rodeo. I have gotten attached to my furry appendages and the chance of attracting some attention from cowboys did not seem enough of an incentive to me. Not shaving just seems to go along with the atmosphere of this summer. Somehow roughing it and going natural makes the experience feel more authentic.
When we were finally ready, we drove into town, our spirits high with excitement. It was a gorgeous day and the sun was setting a brilliant red/orange. I brought my red and white spaghetti strap dress that flares out around me when I twirl for the dance, but was disappointed that I had no cowgirl boots to accompany it. The cowboys did not seem to mind my lack of boots or my hairy legs for as soon as Kristen and I stepped out of the car we were blinded with dazzling smiles from the cowboys. There is something very appealing about a man who dresses nicely and these cowboys knew how to dress. Shiny cowboy boots, colorful long sleeve button up shirts, and fancy cowboy hats to top it all off. Not to mention shiny silver belt buckles that gleamed in the setting sun. Yes, the men looked very nice, but I could not take my eyes off of the beautiful horses they were riding. I think I may have disappointed a few men as they realized my appreciative gaze landed on their mounts instead of on themselves. Kristen had a hard time pulling me away from the horses, but eventually we made our way to the bleachers and watched the rodeo events.
The bull riding and bucking broncos were unpleasant to watch, but I really enjoyed the barrel racing and the overall environment. Unfortunately, there was a rodeo clown and as most of you know I hate clowns. This one was particularly annoying as it took time away from the horses and made very bad jokes. During these boring intermissions, Kristen and I entertained ourselves by looking for cowboys to dance with later in the night. We spend all of our time on John and Jimma’s orchard and don’t run into the locals on a weekly basis, so the thought of meeting new people was very exciting.
Once the rodeo ended, most people made their way over to the outdoor dance floor. There was live music and it was a clear night so the stars were shining brightly overhead. There is very little light pollution out here, so the stars are extraordinarily bright; sometimes it is so bright I do not need to use my head lamp at night. Kristen and I were unfamiliar with any of the country dancing so we spent some time on the side watching some of the older couples and pretty soon the two of us picked it up. Unfortunately, none of the men had asked us to dance, so we decided to dance with each other for a song.
As we walked off the dance floor, Kristen was immediately approached by an Argentinean man who asked her to dance. His friend Frederico came over and began chatting with me. I found out that he and his friends are from Argentina and are polo riders on Tommy Lee Jones’ ranch, which is in San Saba! Liz and Juan Jose had met us at the rodeo, and they began chatting with the polo riders in Spanish and I was excited that I could understand almost all of what was being said.
Frederico’s friend Jose asked me to dance and I had a fun time teaching him the country dance I had just taught myself Jose explained that after each song, everyone leaves the dance floor to grab a quick drink and then heads back onto the dance floor. If a guy asks you to dance again, it is a sign that he thinks you are a good dancer and is interested. I think this was a hint, because Jose continued to ask me to dance. After a few songs we decided to take a short break and went over to talk to his friends. I noticed that Carlos, the guy Kristen had been dancing with, was moping and I also noticed that Kristen was not around.
“Where did Kristen go?” I asked him. “She is dancing with another man,” he dejectedly waved his hand in the direction of the dance floor. “I don’t want to cry in front of everyone, but…you know…my heart, it is breaking.” I did feel sorry for him, but I had to hide a smile. Latin American men can be very melodramatic. Eventually Kristen returned, and Carlos swept her off her feet to the dance floor again and monopolized her for the rest of the time he remained. It was not too long, however, before the Argentineans said their goodbyes as they headed off to a party at a friend’s house. They tried very hard to get us to come, but we insisted we wanted to stay at the dance. Jose asked for my email (since my stupid phone has decided not to work!) and pecked me on the cheek goodnight. I am really hoping he emails so that I can visit Tommy Lee Jones’ ranch. He has 320 horses!
Liz and Juan Jose headed home shortly after, so Kristen and I were left standing alone for a bit. A group of cowboys that we had seen earlier in the night was standing next to us and I was desperately hoping that they would ask us to dance. Unfortunately, they were surrounded by a throng of girls from the rodeo who were way too young for them. Kristen and I were just about to go dance with each other when a striking cowboy in a pink long sleeved shirt and a white cowboy hat walked over and asked Kristen to dance. Following his cowboy booted heels was his friend who asked me to dance. I was so ecstatic and excited to be dancing with a cowboy! The Argentineans were a lot of fun, but I wanted the authentic Texas experience
The cowboy and I introduced ourselves and asked where the other was from and what we were doing in San Saba. His name was Cody and he had come to San Saba to ride in the rodeo! He had ridden a bucking bronco earlier in the evening and I was surprised he was up for dancing. I really dislike the bronco riding, but it was interesting to hear him talk about the sport. He was a nice enough guy, but was quite full of himself and was a terrible teacher. Everyone else was doing the dance I had learned earlier, but for some reason Cody decided to mix it up. This would have been fine except that it resulted in him smashing my toes with his cowboy boots since he ignored my requests to teach me the song. Despite all that, it was still really fun.
He led me off the dance floor at the end of the song and we started chatting. Eventually his friend Blake strolled over. Blake is not what my type is typically: very tall, burly and gruff looking, but I had the most fun with him. I think Blake had wanted to dance with me earlier, but had been too shy to ask because he looked over questioningly at Cody who then said to me, “You should dance with this guy. He’s a great dancer!”
“I would love to, but I don’t know all the dances.” I replied, hoping that Blake would offer to teach me.
“Oh I’m a great teacher, don’t worry! Come on!” Blake enthusiastically explained and then led me out onto the dance floor. Despite his large size he was very graceful and he really was a patient and knowledgeable teacher. We must have made quite the picture: little me in a red and white striped dress and his stalwart frame towering over me in his cowboy boots and hat. Blake and I had a great time dancing and talking. He asked about me and I explained that I went to school in Boston and was here for the summer researching bats. He was the most enthusiastic listener I have found thus far. He kept asking me questions and at one point exclaimed that I was “like the people on the Discovery channel.” I found that rather entertaining.
When the song ended, we left the dance floor and started talking with some of his friends. I danced with Cody a few more times, but I really looked forward to the dances with Blake. As I got the hang of the dance, he started twirling and spinning me around. We made a very good dance couple and I really enjoyed the night.
Eventually the band packed up and we had to leave, but by the time the night ended, I had seen my first rodeo, danced with Argentinean polo riders from Tommy Lee Jones’ ranch, and danced the night away with Texan cowboys! I think it was quite a success and I can’t wait for my next rodeo.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
San Saba: a Romance
I have never been as happy nor felt as fulfilled as I do here in Texas doing field work. I am always busy and I truly feel that I am accomplishing important work every day. Here are some of the reasons I have fallen in love with San Saba, Texas:
1) The air is fresh unlike the smog filled air of Boston and there are lots of wide open spaces. John covers the dirt/grass roads on his property with pecan hulls and when I walk on them an earthy and refreshing smell wafts up and fills the air and the crunch under foot is so very satisfying.
2) There are a plethora of primitive dirt roads for me to run on. Coqueta and Laika (Liz’s 2 wild dogs from Latin America) accompany me on my runs and I am surrounded by the beautiful scenery of pecan orchards and pasture lands that melt into the natural riparian areas.
3) I have never met friendlier people in my life. Everyone is so eager to meet us and they are always inviting us over for meals and conversation. Often times neighbors on nearby orchards just drop by for a visit and they are always genuinely interested in our bat work. Today I met two of Jimma’s friends who have horses and I was invited out to visit both!
4) Dinners with John and Jimma are always wonderful. There is great food, interesting conversation, and wonderful people. Jimma is a very talented Naturalist and has abounding knowledge on the surrounding wildlife and John is always giving us tips on hunting and cooking this wildlife :-)
5) There is a warmth in San Saba that extends beyond the stifling weather. I truly feel accepted into the community and feel like I have a home while I am here. I love Boston, but in the city I do not feel the constant sense of welcome I experience here. Often I feel like an anonymous person going about my business, but out here in the country I am always waving to cars passing by and stopping to chat with the neighbors. In the city it is easy to get caught up in the hustle of all the people moving around you and time seems to fly by. Here I am extraordinarily busy, but I get lost in my own work without the distraction of millions of others around me. It is like an isolated bubble of time that moves at its own pace. I can only hope that I will be lucky enough to live in such a place when I have a family.
1) The air is fresh unlike the smog filled air of Boston and there are lots of wide open spaces. John covers the dirt/grass roads on his property with pecan hulls and when I walk on them an earthy and refreshing smell wafts up and fills the air and the crunch under foot is so very satisfying.
2) There are a plethora of primitive dirt roads for me to run on. Coqueta and Laika (Liz’s 2 wild dogs from Latin America) accompany me on my runs and I am surrounded by the beautiful scenery of pecan orchards and pasture lands that melt into the natural riparian areas.
3) I have never met friendlier people in my life. Everyone is so eager to meet us and they are always inviting us over for meals and conversation. Often times neighbors on nearby orchards just drop by for a visit and they are always genuinely interested in our bat work. Today I met two of Jimma’s friends who have horses and I was invited out to visit both!
4) Dinners with John and Jimma are always wonderful. There is great food, interesting conversation, and wonderful people. Jimma is a very talented Naturalist and has abounding knowledge on the surrounding wildlife and John is always giving us tips on hunting and cooking this wildlife :-)
5) There is a warmth in San Saba that extends beyond the stifling weather. I truly feel accepted into the community and feel like I have a home while I am here. I love Boston, but in the city I do not feel the constant sense of welcome I experience here. Often I feel like an anonymous person going about my business, but out here in the country I am always waving to cars passing by and stopping to chat with the neighbors. In the city it is easy to get caught up in the hustle of all the people moving around you and time seems to fly by. Here I am extraordinarily busy, but I get lost in my own work without the distraction of millions of others around me. It is like an isolated bubble of time that moves at its own pace. I can only hope that I will be lucky enough to live in such a place when I have a family.
Saturday, June 6, 2009
My Welcome to Texas: a run in with the local law enforcement
May was the month dedicated specifically to mist netting, and now that we have entered into June we are beginning radio tracking. However, we did not have the radio tracking equipment the first few days of June, so we decided to have some fun and try exploring some of the bridges nearby in the hopes that we might find some bat roosts. Two nights ago we set out on our bridge adventure with an old atlas, an Anabat recorder, thermal camera, head lamps, and lots of energy! Unfortunately, our high spirits began to wane after we checked the fifth bridge with still no sign of any bats.
On our way back towards the house, we decided to try one more bridge running over modest stream named Stillwater creek. People really are not supposed to be nosing around under bridges, so often times there is barbed wire fencing surrounding the bridge…I have become very accomplished at circumventing these minor nuisances. Behind the barbed wire, concrete pavement slopes steeply down to the base of the bridge from the road. We were able to reach the base of the bridge and to our happiness we found some bats roosting in a metal pipe on the underside of the bridge. Several bats were also swooping in under the bridge and circling us indicating that the bats not only roost here, but probably also forage nearby as well. We began the usual routine of recording the bat calls with the Anabat, taking pictures of the roost, collecting guano, recording a description of the area and bat activity, and marking the GPS point. It was a beautiful, cool evening which aided in our efficiency and I was thoroughly enjoying the experience. Spirits and excitement had risen due to our success and we decided to initiate a more thorough investigation of the bridge.
Just as Dan was beginning to scale the wall to reach an interesting crevice, we heard a deep, authoritative voice yell, “Hello, this is the county Sheriff! I need you to come out from under the bridge now!” Engrossed as we were in our work, it took a moment for the words to register and shock was plainly written over all of our faces. Liz started walking out from under the bridge and called up to the sheriff to let him know we were approaching. Kristen and I were giggling nervously while we were climbing back up the pavement to the road. I was so excited; things like this only seem to happen in movies. However, I proceeded with caution knowing that Texans are known to be very territorial and many of them carry shot guns and are not afraid to do what it takes to protect their property. Liz was the first one to reach the road. Dan, Kristen, and I quickly followed.
“Turn off the head lamp and put your hands in the air where I can see them!” The sheriff ordered Liz. At this point I was quite nervous, and put my hands in the air too. I felt so ridiculous at that moment with cars driving by as I was walking on the side of a country highway at night carrying a thermal camera over my head with a head lamp dangling from my neck, sweat and dirt dripping down my face, and baggy/ripped field pants hanging on me. I could just imagine the sheriff ordering us to lie face down on the ground, handcuffing us, and hauling us off to the local jail. Ironically, Kristen and I had met a woman at the Laundromat just a few days prior to this incident who works at the jail. When we had left with our laundry we told her it had been nice meeting her and joked that we hoped we wouldn’t be seeing her any time soon behind bars. But now that joke seemed to be turning into a reality and although I was nervous, I was also excited about the story I would have to share if we were in fact taken in.
Fortunately or unfortunately, Liz handled the situation like a pro (maybe this is not her first experience with the cops :-) and explained that we were bat researchers exploring the bridge to find bats and that we were not up to any illegal activities. All of our equipment added veracity to our claims and the sheriff was persuaded to believe us without any trouble at all. We were soon allowed to continue our work, but not before the sheriff finished calling us all “slabbernockles,” which I am assuming is a very playful, yet derogatory name for Northerners.
Apparently some of the especially remote, rural areas of San Saba (meaning not directly in the “city” since the whole place is remote and rural) are meeting locations for drug dealers and many of them carry out their deviant acts under the bridges. This information might have been nice to know before we began our epic journey scouring the local bridges, but fortunately we didn’t enter upon any sketchy scenes. A landowner whose property runs along this particular bridge had seen our lights, become concerned, and called the police. The landowner and the sheriff were actually very polite once they realized what we were really up to, and before they got in their cars and drove away they both shook all of our hands and said, “Welcome to Texas!”
On our way back towards the house, we decided to try one more bridge running over modest stream named Stillwater creek. People really are not supposed to be nosing around under bridges, so often times there is barbed wire fencing surrounding the bridge…I have become very accomplished at circumventing these minor nuisances. Behind the barbed wire, concrete pavement slopes steeply down to the base of the bridge from the road. We were able to reach the base of the bridge and to our happiness we found some bats roosting in a metal pipe on the underside of the bridge. Several bats were also swooping in under the bridge and circling us indicating that the bats not only roost here, but probably also forage nearby as well. We began the usual routine of recording the bat calls with the Anabat, taking pictures of the roost, collecting guano, recording a description of the area and bat activity, and marking the GPS point. It was a beautiful, cool evening which aided in our efficiency and I was thoroughly enjoying the experience. Spirits and excitement had risen due to our success and we decided to initiate a more thorough investigation of the bridge.
Just as Dan was beginning to scale the wall to reach an interesting crevice, we heard a deep, authoritative voice yell, “Hello, this is the county Sheriff! I need you to come out from under the bridge now!” Engrossed as we were in our work, it took a moment for the words to register and shock was plainly written over all of our faces. Liz started walking out from under the bridge and called up to the sheriff to let him know we were approaching. Kristen and I were giggling nervously while we were climbing back up the pavement to the road. I was so excited; things like this only seem to happen in movies. However, I proceeded with caution knowing that Texans are known to be very territorial and many of them carry shot guns and are not afraid to do what it takes to protect their property. Liz was the first one to reach the road. Dan, Kristen, and I quickly followed.
“Turn off the head lamp and put your hands in the air where I can see them!” The sheriff ordered Liz. At this point I was quite nervous, and put my hands in the air too. I felt so ridiculous at that moment with cars driving by as I was walking on the side of a country highway at night carrying a thermal camera over my head with a head lamp dangling from my neck, sweat and dirt dripping down my face, and baggy/ripped field pants hanging on me. I could just imagine the sheriff ordering us to lie face down on the ground, handcuffing us, and hauling us off to the local jail. Ironically, Kristen and I had met a woman at the Laundromat just a few days prior to this incident who works at the jail. When we had left with our laundry we told her it had been nice meeting her and joked that we hoped we wouldn’t be seeing her any time soon behind bars. But now that joke seemed to be turning into a reality and although I was nervous, I was also excited about the story I would have to share if we were in fact taken in.
Fortunately or unfortunately, Liz handled the situation like a pro (maybe this is not her first experience with the cops :-) and explained that we were bat researchers exploring the bridge to find bats and that we were not up to any illegal activities. All of our equipment added veracity to our claims and the sheriff was persuaded to believe us without any trouble at all. We were soon allowed to continue our work, but not before the sheriff finished calling us all “slabbernockles,” which I am assuming is a very playful, yet derogatory name for Northerners.
Apparently some of the especially remote, rural areas of San Saba (meaning not directly in the “city” since the whole place is remote and rural) are meeting locations for drug dealers and many of them carry out their deviant acts under the bridges. This information might have been nice to know before we began our epic journey scouring the local bridges, but fortunately we didn’t enter upon any sketchy scenes. A landowner whose property runs along this particular bridge had seen our lights, become concerned, and called the police. The landowner and the sheriff were actually very polite once they realized what we were really up to, and before they got in their cars and drove away they both shook all of our hands and said, “Welcome to Texas!”
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
True Country Girl
This past weekend was spent travelling and conducting cave censuses at two different sites. On Friday we went to the Bamberger Ranch, which is a large patch of conservation land. The owners conduct a lot of educational tours and have received many rewards for their conservation efforts. The cave where we held the census is the only man-made bat cave in the world and was constructed like an upside down swimming pool. We hypothesize that there are about 50,000 Brazilian free-tailed bats living there currently and we will have more concrete data once we have the opportunity to analyze the data from the thermal camera. The cave has a viewing room in the back so I was able to go in and watch the bats swarming at the mouth of the cave before they left for their evening of foraging. As you might imagine, the stench was pretty impressive and I was forced to cover my mouth and breathe through my handy bandana. Liz, Kristen, and Dan have expressed their doubts about the bandana and think that it is a very silly article of clothing, but I adamantly attest to its various uses and it has become a standing joke that the bandana could save me from any situation. I carry it with me at all times and this came in useful when we ran into a gang of motorcyclists.
That evening we spent the night in a cabin on the Bamberger property just off of a dirt/gravel road. As we were driving back in the dark, we saw an armadillo sitting in the middle of the road. But before I get ahead of myself, let me give y’all the back story. Juan Jose (Liz’s husband) came out with her last summer to help with some of the research and there is a legendary story of him catching a wild armadillo. Dan, not wanting any doubt cast onto his manliness and not wanting to be out done by Juan Jose, has been waiting for the opportunity to catch a wild armadillo. Well Friday night Dan found the opportunity and as soon as we spotted the creature, Liz slammed on the brakes and Dan yelled for one of us to toss him a head lamp. Unfortunately the armadillo was already making good on his retreat so Dan yelled, “Oh screw it!” and leapt out of the car in hot pursuit. Fortunately, I was able to toss him a headlamp before he got too far and soon he was weaving in and out of trees and jumping over branches. The armadillo was about to escape in to his hole, so Dan made a bold move and lunged through the air and tackled the armadillo. He was able to grab onto his tail and Liz, Kristen, and I rushed over and were able to get a good view of an armadillo butt :-) Don’t worry; we soon released the armadillo, who was uninjured and scuttled back into his hole.
The cave we went to Saturday evening is located in Round Mountain, Texas which is near Austin. This is a natural cave and is set on the side of a steep cliff; this made carrying the 40lbs camera and computer equipment for the thermal camera up to the cave a sweaty and unpleasant job. However, the view was worth all of the hard work; we were able to watch the sun set over the “hill country” as it is called out here in Texas. The sky was golden red and the shadows of the bats speckled the background as they flew from the cave. As the free-tails leave, they fly in a column and swoop off into the dusk. The flapping of their wings sounds like rain pattering on a tin roof.
On our drive to the cave, which is out in the middle of nowhere, we ran into a huge road block…of long horn cows! There were dozens of them standing obstinately in the middle of the road staring questioningly at us. We were finally able to coax them to move out of the way, but not without listening to them moo incessantly to let us know that we had rudely disturbed their evening amble.
During the day on Saturday we lounged around at Barton Springs. Right outside of Austin there are several natural springs that have been transformed into a public swimming area. It was a scorching hot day and the place was filled with people. It was a nice change from the orchard where I only see the same 5 people every day. The springs are enclosed in concrete like a pool, but there is thick, green grass growing at the bottom. The water was cold and refreshing and there was even a diving board that we took advantage of.
The census Saturday night was finished around 10pm. We drove to Liz’s friend’s house in Austin and spent the night there. We arrived around midnight and then Kristen, Dan, and I decided we wanted to explore the city. Liz dropped us off and we wandered around and eventually decided to go dancing. Austin is a very vibrant city. They streets were blocked off and there were lots of people walking around and many venders selling all sorts of different foods. I was hoping to find some live street music, but unfortunately I think we got into the city too late. We grabbed a cab and went back home. The house was beautiful, but very small so I ended up sleeping on a sleeping bag on the hardwood floor (thank you Zoe!!). It wasn’t the most comfortable of spots, but I have gotten used to sleeping in strange places since arriving in Texas. I am usually tired enough to fall asleep most anywhere.
Sunday night we went back to the Bamberger Cave and took another census reading before driving back to the orchard. Since being home, we mist netted once and are taking tonight off. Yesterday I was working out when I heard Dan call for someone to come outside. I walked over to see what was going on and he motioned to the side of the house. Apparently Coqueta had jumped into the bushes near the house and knocked something over. Dan was worries she had knocked a propane tank over and went to investigate. As he was nosing around, he heard a hissing noise closer to the pipes on the side of the house. He pulled the shrubbery aside to reach the pipes and discover the source of the hissing. As he did so, a rattle snake lunged at him. Luckily, he was able to pull his hands back in time and avoided being bitten. I came on the scene just in time to see the snake slithering away alongside the house. I really hope it never finds its way into the house.
A huge storm is hitting us right now and I am enjoying relaxing inside. We just finished a wonderful dinner of deer neck stew. John killed the deer last year and froze it and Liz and I boiled the meat to make a broth and added lots of vegetables and rice. It turned out really well. I feel like such an authentic Texan eating wild hog and deer neck! In addition to eating the right foods, I have also encountered the appropriate pests, poisonous plants, and parasites. I am covered in mosquito bites, biting fly bites, and poison oak. Kristen and I both have a lovely rash from what we have guessed is poison oak so the other day we went to the Laundromat to do some washing (some place other than in an outdoor sink where fish and other animals are sacrificed). While we were there, we met a woman who was also doing some laundry. The people of San Saba being as friendly as they are, she quickly engaged us in conversation and when we explained that we are doing field work with bats she exclaimed that Kristen and I “really are true country girls!” So there you have it, straight from the horse’s mouth…I am a true country girl!
That evening we spent the night in a cabin on the Bamberger property just off of a dirt/gravel road. As we were driving back in the dark, we saw an armadillo sitting in the middle of the road. But before I get ahead of myself, let me give y’all the back story. Juan Jose (Liz’s husband) came out with her last summer to help with some of the research and there is a legendary story of him catching a wild armadillo. Dan, not wanting any doubt cast onto his manliness and not wanting to be out done by Juan Jose, has been waiting for the opportunity to catch a wild armadillo. Well Friday night Dan found the opportunity and as soon as we spotted the creature, Liz slammed on the brakes and Dan yelled for one of us to toss him a head lamp. Unfortunately the armadillo was already making good on his retreat so Dan yelled, “Oh screw it!” and leapt out of the car in hot pursuit. Fortunately, I was able to toss him a headlamp before he got too far and soon he was weaving in and out of trees and jumping over branches. The armadillo was about to escape in to his hole, so Dan made a bold move and lunged through the air and tackled the armadillo. He was able to grab onto his tail and Liz, Kristen, and I rushed over and were able to get a good view of an armadillo butt :-) Don’t worry; we soon released the armadillo, who was uninjured and scuttled back into his hole.
The cave we went to Saturday evening is located in Round Mountain, Texas which is near Austin. This is a natural cave and is set on the side of a steep cliff; this made carrying the 40lbs camera and computer equipment for the thermal camera up to the cave a sweaty and unpleasant job. However, the view was worth all of the hard work; we were able to watch the sun set over the “hill country” as it is called out here in Texas. The sky was golden red and the shadows of the bats speckled the background as they flew from the cave. As the free-tails leave, they fly in a column and swoop off into the dusk. The flapping of their wings sounds like rain pattering on a tin roof.
On our drive to the cave, which is out in the middle of nowhere, we ran into a huge road block…of long horn cows! There were dozens of them standing obstinately in the middle of the road staring questioningly at us. We were finally able to coax them to move out of the way, but not without listening to them moo incessantly to let us know that we had rudely disturbed their evening amble.
During the day on Saturday we lounged around at Barton Springs. Right outside of Austin there are several natural springs that have been transformed into a public swimming area. It was a scorching hot day and the place was filled with people. It was a nice change from the orchard where I only see the same 5 people every day. The springs are enclosed in concrete like a pool, but there is thick, green grass growing at the bottom. The water was cold and refreshing and there was even a diving board that we took advantage of.
The census Saturday night was finished around 10pm. We drove to Liz’s friend’s house in Austin and spent the night there. We arrived around midnight and then Kristen, Dan, and I decided we wanted to explore the city. Liz dropped us off and we wandered around and eventually decided to go dancing. Austin is a very vibrant city. They streets were blocked off and there were lots of people walking around and many venders selling all sorts of different foods. I was hoping to find some live street music, but unfortunately I think we got into the city too late. We grabbed a cab and went back home. The house was beautiful, but very small so I ended up sleeping on a sleeping bag on the hardwood floor (thank you Zoe!!). It wasn’t the most comfortable of spots, but I have gotten used to sleeping in strange places since arriving in Texas. I am usually tired enough to fall asleep most anywhere.
Sunday night we went back to the Bamberger Cave and took another census reading before driving back to the orchard. Since being home, we mist netted once and are taking tonight off. Yesterday I was working out when I heard Dan call for someone to come outside. I walked over to see what was going on and he motioned to the side of the house. Apparently Coqueta had jumped into the bushes near the house and knocked something over. Dan was worries she had knocked a propane tank over and went to investigate. As he was nosing around, he heard a hissing noise closer to the pipes on the side of the house. He pulled the shrubbery aside to reach the pipes and discover the source of the hissing. As he did so, a rattle snake lunged at him. Luckily, he was able to pull his hands back in time and avoided being bitten. I came on the scene just in time to see the snake slithering away alongside the house. I really hope it never finds its way into the house.
A huge storm is hitting us right now and I am enjoying relaxing inside. We just finished a wonderful dinner of deer neck stew. John killed the deer last year and froze it and Liz and I boiled the meat to make a broth and added lots of vegetables and rice. It turned out really well. I feel like such an authentic Texan eating wild hog and deer neck! In addition to eating the right foods, I have also encountered the appropriate pests, poisonous plants, and parasites. I am covered in mosquito bites, biting fly bites, and poison oak. Kristen and I both have a lovely rash from what we have guessed is poison oak so the other day we went to the Laundromat to do some washing (some place other than in an outdoor sink where fish and other animals are sacrificed). While we were there, we met a woman who was also doing some laundry. The people of San Saba being as friendly as they are, she quickly engaged us in conversation and when we explained that we are doing field work with bats she exclaimed that Kristen and I “really are true country girls!” So there you have it, straight from the horse’s mouth…I am a true country girl!
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