The Great Migration

Every once in a while, you encounter something in your chosen career path that makes you go, "YES!! I do want to be this when I grow up!"

 I had just that type of moment this past weekend.A lovely group of wildlife ladies invited me to join them on a trip to Freezeout Lake, MT to observe migrating snow geese. I did not expect too much--some geese flocked together on a lake, that's cool--but I haven't seen snow geese since Alaska, so I was pretty excited.

It turns out that it isn't just a flock of snow geese that spend a few weeks at Freezeout every year. It is ALL THE BIRDS. So many geese that pictures cannot do the event justice (though I did try). Their constant honking created a cacophony across the water, a constant background noise to our viewing experience.

Sure, that's quite a few birds...

It is not only snow geese, either. Tundra swans and pintail ducks (also old friends from the Arctic) and many more species also congregate on their way north. Some of these guys could be heading straight back up to Barrow eventually! How I wish I could join them. . .

That's a decent amount of geese.

Okay, that's even more birds. . .

THOSE ARE NOT INSECTS.

You get the picture.

The geese left in small bursts at first, lighting out over the water to land in nearby fields. Then, as the giant group straight ahead of us lifted off and swarmed as they had done several times before already, something changed. A giant mass of them lifted all at once and roared over our heads. I gave up trying to capture the moment, overwhelmed.

In surrounding fields, we spotted bald eagles, golden eagles, and numerous rough-legged hawks. We were peering at a short, magical window in which this place comes vibrantly alive. And it was truly awesome.

Small group landing in a nearby field.

As we drove away, we were all talking animatedly about what we'd just seen, excited about this amazing world we live in, and about being biologists someday.

It is a marvel. I have a hard time imagining myself doing anything else.

--Ellen

Over the hills, through the woods

A cave adventure (caventure?) in north central Montana

Step One: Wakeup

 The cast assembled bright and early on a cold Saturday morning: a crew of five teenagers, two adults, and whatever I count as. Our mission was to reach two caves by plodding across the snowy hills, so that we could check them for hibernating bats. Everybody strapped into their snowshoes and followed the somewhat erratic guidance of my GPS.

During the first mile or so of a hike, I realize I actually hate hiking and should give it up and find a cozy chair and a book somewhere. Fortunately endorphins kick in after that, and I start to enjoy it (at least that's what I assume is happening).

Not too proud for hands and knees.

 We huffed and puffed our way over the hills, floundering in the dry, sugarlike snow. The views of the sweeping plains made it a pleasant experience, but we were relieved to reach the first cave, Wind Hole. Unfortunately, there was still a mile and a half to our real destination, the next larger cave, and there was a formidable ridge between us and it.

Crawlway into the Wind Hole

We would have to climb the mountainous ridge twice. A few members of the party decided it wasn't going to happen and called it a day, turning back to follow our packed-down trail out. The rest of us needed to pick up the pace if we were to get out before sundown.

Step Two: The Work

The way in!

 There was so much snow, we worried that the entrance to Cave #2 might be sealed off--a legitimate fear, as it turned out, as there was a giant mound of snow filling it. We rode the snowpile down in, crawled in the low entryway and got to work. Our efforts paid off--bats!

Or frozen batsicles.

Because of their presence, we placed a data logger to record temperature and humidity, snapped some shots of the bats for ID purposes and got out. It was a small cave, but combing every inch of it for bat sign still took time. We were in a race to get back before the sun set (and the temperature dropped even further).

Step 3: Get the Heck Out

Attempting a time-saving glissade down a snow chute

I don't usually feel that I am all that much use as a chaperone. The kids are spunky and resourceful, and could make it back on their own if necessary. But I was still happy that I was there to check in and make sure no one's fingers were getting frostnipped, and to herd them onward whenever they got sidetracked.

Eventually, we all made it back to the warm, waiting bus. It was well after dark, and the kids and I were pretty well exhausted. I found it surprisingly easy to nap during the six hours on the bus ride back to my car, adopting all sorts of contorted positions.

Step 3.5: Learning

It seems like I am learning more than the cave clubbers are, despite my supposed chaperone status. I'm trying to be patient but still push them on. Learn how much to help them, or let them figure things out on their own (so far, erring on the side of the latter).

One of the main things I am discovering is how much these kids are capable of. It is an amazing thing to watch a group of 15-year-olds take a burly hike in freezing temperatures and still get down to business and take their work seriously in the cave.

When I was 15, I would have literally died in the attempt.

It is the club leader, their high school teacher, who pulls off this magic. All I can do is come along and hope to pick up some of his wisdom, if he'll allow it.

Some days, I don't feel qualified to oversee grass grow. I am making mistakes, and I don't know what I'm doing most of the time. I can only hope that I stay humble and open toward these lessons. If I don't learn from them, there isn't a point.

After all, I have something important to work toward.

           Snuggling this adorable creature. (jokes, of course...)

Urgggh choices

It's that time of year again! That period of midwinter restlessness and desire to see the days grow longer again. When you've exhausted the snowshoeing/skiing options (or the snow just doesn't want to cooperate).

Ha. I wish.

For us wildlifers, it's also job season. I am applying and interviewing for summer seasonal work, which means my head is already way past spring semester. Considering I have 18 credits' worth of class to get through, that could be problematic.

Summatime!! And animals yeah!!

Last year, I already knew by February that I was going to be spending my summer in Barrow. It provided a welcome incentive to get through the drudge of spring semester. However, last year the choice was simple. I received few offers (due to it being a terrible, terrible year for federally funded projects), and of those offers, Alaska was the only real option because of timing conflict. (Note: I had zero problem with this).

This year the game has changed. There are actual projects to choose from. I also have an aim--if possible, I'd like to start working with bats. I've never before had an interest in a particular species, so I am excited to see where it goes.

It probably goes into some large, dark hole.

Someday it's going to exasperate me, but for now, I am enjoying the fleeting nature of wildlife work. I don't want to be trapped in one place or one career. I want to travel around, see new places and meet new people every few months. I love Missoula--this place has become my home while going to school here.

Beautiful from so many angles.

After just three years, Missoula is already full of memories. I complain about college a lot because there are a lot of problems with the system, but it has been very good for me. I came to UM a nervous, naive 18-year-old. I kept my head down through public school in conservative, rural Montana. I was so busy trying not to stand out that I never questioned what I actually liked.

Except motorcycles. Motorcycles always win.

Three years ago, I'd never been rock climbing, kayaking, caving, or even backpacking. I hadn't hiked hundreds of miles in the backcountry or swam in icy mountain lakes, or run in Arctic races.

Or played with baby caribou in the mist.

 It's amazing how easily I can take all that for granted. I get fed up with long days of school and work and little sleep, but the truth is, it's already been worth it. I am incredibly graced with everything I have found here. Kind, welcoming people, unique experiences, maybe even a tiny bit of self-confidence that I didn't have before.

In other words, I need to suck it up, quit complaining, and get ready to work my ass off this semester. Summer will come, and hopefully some sort of paid employment with it.

Stay weird, lovely Missoula.

--Ellen Marie

Dream Vacation

It's that time of year when college students flee somewhere warm and dry for a week, hopefully to escape the dreary Missoula spring weather. Unless you're crazy, that is, and decide to go farther north to chase the receding snow just so that you can camp in it and freeze your ass off.
       
Guilty! My very best adventure buddy and I loaded up the car and headed for Alberta to spend our spring break snowshoeing through deep crust and camping out in spring snowstorms. The Canadian Rockies were like nowhere we'd ever been before.

A scene like this ought to be narrated by Morgan Freeman.

This picture is of our trek to the toe of the Athabasca Glacier, my brother's obsession of the entire trip. I had to force him to stay off the glacier itself. Dying in a crevasse and becoming one with the glacier forever seemed not to bother him too much.

That's alright--I actually understood this sentiment. Dying in Banff amongst the towering peaks and extremes of life. . . you could a lot worse. (You know, if you HAD to die.)

For four days we explored, snowshoeing through some extreme avalanche territory, crossing semi-frozen lakes and negotiating icy trails and roads blocked in by snow. We got stuck only once in a parking lot, though that was nerve wracking enough. It was the middle of the Canadian wilderness and we had no cell service or snow shovel, a fact I keenly remembered at that point.

After the car got stuck we were both a little shaken, especially when the snow began to flurry and the clouds descend. There wasn't an open winter campsite around for hours of driving. When I saw a sign for an open hostel in the middle of nowhere, like a little winter oasis placed there just for us, I hurried to pull over. HI-Rampart Creek Wilderness Hostel turned out to be another wonderful part of the journey, being our first time ever staying in a hostel. As soon as we saw the heated rooms with bunk beds we were sold. Besides, the guy running the hostel seemed like he had been alone for days, possibly months, with only his adorable dog Dana for companionship.

Our last day in Canada was magic. We woke well rested from the hostel to peer outside and see that the clouds had lifted, and it was going to be a beautiful day in the Rockies.

Almost right away we came across a wolf bounding gracefully down the highway. He stayed for a few moments in front of us before leaping over the side of the road and disappearing into the valley below. It was my first time seeing a wolf in the wild, and I think I see what all the fuss is about now.

The weather held the entire day, through our trek to the glacier and exploration of steep, dramatic canyons filled with ice falls. At the end of the day we worked our way back to Banff town, which is pretty charming when you look past extensive tourism. Also, I am of legal age in Banff, so my brother and I capped off our trip with a few drinks at the bar while watching a local band, whose members wore cutoff jeans and no shoes, play songs like "I'm at Home Getting Hammered While She's Out Getting Nailed."

Despite sleeping out in a snow flurried campground that night, we stayed warm and neither of us wanted to leave in the morning. We'd been living out a dream, and nobody wants to wake up from that--but eventually it is time to return to the real world. My brother is graduating this spring and his life is moving on to working a job in Denali National Park and wherever he wants to go after that. And it's time for me to finish up the semester with as much grace as I can manage, and set off on my own new adventure alone in the Arctic tundra.

Life moves on, but we'll always have the pictures. 

Need for Speed

Happy winter everybody!

I feel quite sorry for anyone who doesn't have seasons--or those who fail to appreciate it when they do. Is it a pain in the ass to drive on crappy roads and scrape your windshield? Yes. It also sucks to have to bundle up like an Arctic explorer just to grab the newspaper.

But honestly, I'm having a hard time even sympathizing with these woes, because AWESOME.

http://images.nationalgeographic.com/wpf/media-live

This guy says, "What? Hard to travel in the snow you say? I can't hear you through the sound of awesome!"

I'm no pro when it comes to skiing, but I do love it. And anyway, you don't have to love hurtling at deadly speeds down extremely angled slopes to enjoy the wintertime. Snowshoeing or cross-country skiing are just as enjoyable in their own way. If none of these interest you, then. . . well, you and I don't have much in common, but at least you can enjoy a hot mug of tea indoors while watching the snow fall outside.

Turns out, even the wussiest person who is highly susceptible to cold temperatures (read: me) can adjust to the cold. I have found out that the human body is sturdier than I ever would've imagined. It may not be beautiful, but dammit, it's resilient.

I only lost 3 toes to frostbite on this trip. Win!

This winter, I have backpacked overnight in -20 degrees F perfectly comfortably. Hiking out the next morning, condensation froze my eyelashes solid, and my hair was white with frost--but I felt just fine. I have skied in -13 F with formidable windchill, and still managed to have an amazing day on the slopes. I have gone for long walks and runs in the cold, and where my lungs once ached to receive that frigid air, now they handle it. The human body is an amazing thing after all.

It's easy to forget when you don't hold up to society's ideal, or even your own ideal. It really isn't about how your body looks. It's about what it can do.

Enjoy your winter :)