In Search of Bats: Part II

It's hard to believe, but it has been a MONTH of bridge surveys. I don't know when a month has ever gone by faster.

After a month, the hardest thing about these surveys aren't the day-to-day mechanics of fieldwork, but figuring out what it means, and what sort of questions I should be investigating. I am more efficient in my surveys; I have a system, and I know what I'm looking for. I have volunteer assistants who both help me complete the surveys and keep me from going entirely crazy on my own.

My previous assistants weren't particularly good with pens.

So, what do bridge surveys really look like on the ground, and without romantic notions?

  

 Bridges come in two varieties: too big to survey, or too small. They are hundreds of feet in the air, or six inches from the surface of a gushing stream. They all look about the same from the little colored square on the GPS, so you never really know what to expect until you drive up (or sometimes, hike up) on it. They are also everywhere. You do not even realize how many bridges you drive over in a day, and probably don't care, but I have learned to care.

 I can tell when I'm driving over a bridge because I get this terrible feeling, a disturbance in the force, telling me I just missed a bridge and I've got to fight my way back to it. I am supposed to survey every bridge I encounter (let me say again, EVERY BRIDGE). Any bridge that I miss could potentially be the one to house a whole colony of bats, and I can't bear to skip even the meanest of bridges.

Start swimmin!

Once under the bridge, I have to check every crevice that could possibly house a bat. Some bridges are easy--a blank slab on the bottom, nothing more--but others have a million tiny hiding places. From the few bats I've encountered so far, I have learned the number one rule of bridge searching, Do Not Make Assumptions. Just because the research says a bat won't be in a 1-inch deep crevice 3 feet off the ground, doesn't mean you won't find one there (apparently).

Don't Make Assumptions means that I need to crawl under the nastiest, cobwebbiest bridges you can find, and stick my face directly into spiders that shouldn't exist outside a horror movie.

I've gotten soaking wet, spit cobwebs out by the dozens, rolled around in poop, fallen off precariously piled rocks, and nearly toppled into torrents of water. My volunteers have similar stories. Anyone who says this is not proper field work should go crawl in an irrigation ditch sometime and then decide. However, the bats I have found melted my heart and made me love them all over again, and I'd survey a thousand bridges for the chance to get up close with them as I have (there are adorable pictures, guys).

My workplace is also beautiful. I am unimaginably lucky to be doing this sort of work in the gorgeous Western Montana, a place that I have been taking for granted. I can camp out by beautiful mountain streams with my volunteer partner, wake up and catch the sun rising over our first bridge. I am content out in the woods, taking an evening run or reading around the fire once the work is all done. The field season is flying by, and while it can be occasionally tempting to wish it was over and all the hard decisions were already made, I try to remember to enjoy it too.

Days like these do not come around often. I have the freedom, and the company of a small but good crew, to make the most of it.

Til next time

-Batwoman

In Search of Bats: The Underside of America

Tonight I am back from my first week of bridging--or batting? Anyway, I have a few reflections after some comic misadventures.

Dash across 4 lanes of traffic without dropping 5 things-ready, set, go!!

1. Octopus arms. As in, I need several pairs. It's incredible how juggling binoculars, GPS, camera, data sheet, and potentially a pole-extended recorder can require inhuman juggling abilities. As soon as I figure out how to hold all these things at once, surveys will go much faster.

I think we need a longer pole to reach that bridge, Captain!

2. Pulling myself together. I recheck my forms about a hundred times before moving on to the next bridge--forgetting something could range from a giant inconvenience to impossible to fix. I know this already from the fieldwork I have done before, but when it is solely my own responsibility, it gains new meaning.

Also, I have learned this: don't leave any personal items where people might happen by and find it--your entire family will assume you are dead in a ditch somewhere (this lesson brought to you The Hard Way).

I know I left the truck lying around here somewhere...

3. Soliloquy. I have already started talking to myself. And my truck, Rocinante, as if it were my noble horsey steed. I don't feel any shame about it, but I wonder what I will be like in 3 months' time. Locals are probably going to start rumors about a crazy lady who haunts bridges and has sticks and poop in her hair.

And spiders.

5. Batsssss. After surveying a few dozen bridges, of which most had bat sign (read:poop) I can pretty well expect to find a ton of signs of use, but I have very little expectation when it comes to seeing bats. I will probably pee myself when I actually find a living bat.

THEY WERE HERE JUST HOURS AGO. Yes, this is a picture of poop. I AM NOT SORRY.

6. Interstate bridges are disgusting, and so are people. That's just a fact.

I don't even care if it's true, I still hate humanity.

7. Fear. I am afraid of failure, still. I am less afraid that the project will be physically impossible, but I am afraid of myself being incapable or insufficient.  Of course, I guess nothing is sure in life, on that note. But there are so many people who have supported me in this, I am terrified of failure. Perhaps abject terror will make me work harder. Who knows?

Step into my office...

So there you are--my first thoughts and some second ones. Back to batting tomorrow!

I remain--Batgirl

Get it.

I definitely should not even be taking the time to blog right now, but I suppose I will count it as "down time." It has been one of the nuttiest final exam weeks I have ever had, and I don't even have any sit-down, fill-in-the-blank finals.

However, I have real-life items that need accomplishing, which is better in some ways and worse in others. I am more motivated to complete projects that aren't just busywork, but failure means more than just a grade, too.

The potential-for-failure list included my senior thesis committee meeting on Monday. As I might have imagined, it involved sitting down with 4 established Phds who grilled me for 1.5 hours about my intended research. It was both terrifying beyond all reason, and fantastic to be sitting down discussing research and being taken seriously by such an admirable group of professionals.

Today, I lobbied as part of a student group (we call ourselves SLUG) for expanding garden space on campus. We pitched our food garden idea to the head of the university dining service--a very intelligent character who appears to pull no punches when it comes to his opinion. Our group evidently withstood his scrutiny, he declared his support for the project, aaaand. . . we still have lots of work to do, and at the very best outlook, a year before any ground is broken on such a garden.

But you know what? I find myself amazed that as a junior undergraduate at the University, I actually do have some power and voice. It is easy to get lost in this institution of ours, to feel like a cow being run through a feedlot until it's your turn to. . . well, join the workforce I guess (that metaphor didn't pan out.)

I think it would have been easy to keep my head down and quietly do my time here. But everywhere I look, I see students who are doing more than that (and much more than me). Attending the University of Montana has changed me considerably--why shouldn't I make a tiny mark on it?

Enough ponderings I suppose--back to slogging through! (The cow pies. Because. . . never mind).

-Batgirl

The sun will come out, tomooooorrroooooowwww!! Eh, whatever.

Bridge Project Update

I haven't talked about my senior thesis project in a while. Consider yourself lucky, because up until now it would have been crabby complaints about making meetings and writing papers.

The honeymoon phase (of I HAVE A RESEARCH PROJECT! BATS YAY!) quickly transitioned into the mire of bureaucracy involved with anything university-related. Which is not unexpected, so it's fine (although my lack of sleep and stress level might disagree. . . ) Also, I am truly enjoying the study design aspect of the project. I like the challenge of the research and planning side of it--soon I will find out if I like the boots-on-the-ground part just as much.

Maybe not quite like this.

I suspect my field surveys will come with their own frustrations and rewards and decisionmaking. For instance, I honestly need an assistant. I need help navigating to the bridge sites while I drive, and for someone to hold the spotlight while I search for bats, etc. I could ask the student chapter of the Wildlife Society for volunteers, but I quickly realized that bringing strangers out on field excursions would be a whole new can of worms--having to worry about someone else's comfort, gear, food, and general well-being. I don't mind pushing myself to miserable limits, but torturing someone else is another story.

(Aside: Holy crap, an operation the size of the Bear Crew is suddenly horrifying and unimaginable).

STAHP! THINK OF THE LIABILITY!

 So here's the plan: drive around all day long, stopping to examine bridges closely for bat sign, checking every little crevice and cranny. Repeat for 5-10 more days. Take a day or two off for caving or hiking. Repeat as necessary for the summer's duration.

Now, this may not sound too fun or exciting. But it's like a treasure hunt for bats, where either outcome (finding them or not) will be useful information. I will be driving on Forest Service land, which means I get to spend many of these days in the woods. Perhaps I'll take a short hike break for lunch, or I'll camp out in the woods and go for an evening hike after my work is done. Roving across the countryside, camping out where I like, perhaps sleeping in the bed of the truck.

Without said volunteer, it will be a lone wolf sort of operation. But. ..  it sounds a little romantic, a little lonely, a lot of fun.

Like this! I mean, except under the bridge. . .

That's more like it.

 Just a few more weeks to finalize everything. . . cross all the fingers for me!

-Batgirl

Project Crabby

This is only vaguely related to the Bridge Project; however, because I am staying in Montana for the summer, having a pet just became a possibility.

I have never before committed myself to any living creature that is solely my own--as it stands, my mother is still taking care of a certain cactus named Giselle for me, because my life is too unstable to support a cactus.

Giselle is a pretty lady. (Courtesy of Clint Whittle)

As pathetic as that is. Anyhow, being a wildlifer, animals are a pretty important part of my life, and recently my roommate's cat was relocated, leaving a cat-sized gap in the household.

If you think this is leading to me getting a cat, you're quite wrong, but I did choose another pet that is reserved and a little prickly.

Introducing la bella crab, Belle!

Up until about a week or two ago, I wasn't even aware that people kept crabs as pets, because I am that well informed. But my other animal-starved roommate and I looked into getting a fish and somehow stumbled onto other beginner aquarium animals.

We spent quite a while researching the needs of hermit crabs before we decided to get them, but I must admit I was sold as soon as I heard the crabs' homes referred to as "crabitats." Because that's just darn cute.

Call him Indiana.

When Winston first crawled out onto my palm, my reaction was both excitement and a little terror. Their alien legs are so hard and pointy, and the large purple pincer is a little intimidating. I've never played with a bug-eyed crustacean before--my usual pets are of Class Mammalia and a bit cuddlier.

Belle and Winston would make a great indie band!

They are actually really great pets. They seem stimulated by human attention, and will come out of their shell to see what's up when we hold them. They also poke their heads out to be misted with water. Curiosity is an admirable trait in any animal, and it's almost surprising to see in a crab. As a wildlife biologist hopeful, it seems like a good idea to learn such things. (This is where I justify getting a pet as a valuable learning experience).

Also, they seem pretty self-sustaining, which is a plus because I'm going to be on the move all summer. Speaking of which, Bridge Project is slowly progressing. 2/3 of my thesis committee is on board, and I am approved to register for Thesis 499. I've started writing my proposal, and it's all gettin real folks!

Coming soon to a bridge near you! (photo mdt.gov)

I am still a little sad about not returning to Alaska this season--not because I am not grateful for this amazing research opportunity, but because I wish I could divide myself like an amoeba and send Second Me to Alaska while First Me gets down with the bats here in Montana.

Amoebas aside, the future is looking pretty bright right now. More caving, more friends to meet and experiences to share. No complaints here.

-E.W.

*Update* Belle comes out of her shell!!