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!”