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.
Sunday, July 26, 2009
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!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
