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Thursday, January 8, 2015

Words from Aldo



"A man may not care for golf and still be human, but the man who does not like to see, hunt, photograph, or otherwise outwit birds or animals is hardly normal. He is supercivilized, and I for one do not know how to deal with him. Babes do not tremble when they are shown a golf ball, but I should not like to own the boy whose hair does not lift his hat when he sees his first deer. We are dealing, therefore, with something that lies pretty deep." 

--Aldo Leopold, "Goose Music"

Thursday, December 4, 2014

Three Things That Haven't Disappointed Me (and won't break your budget sort of)

It is a truth universally acknowledged that when you buy something it will probably disappoint you. Most advertisements are at best misleading and at worst, basically lies. (Consumer reviews aren't always helpful either. I hate paging through five star Amazon reviews that all read some variation of "OMG just got my new binoculars!! They work great can't wait to try them out! Thanx Amazon!" I don't want to hear that you just got them and they work great. Of course they do. I want to hear that you set them on fire and they work great.) Therefore I'm always pleasantly shocked when I encounter some piece of outdoor equipment that not only lives up to the advertising, but goes above and beyond. In recognition of that here's a list of my top three items that have proved to be reliable field companions over the years.

1. Cabela's Rimrock Hiker
The world of women's outdoor wear is a cold and bleak place inhabited mostly by pink camouflage and yoga pants.  I can't tell you how many times I've opted for men's clothing, which, although usually too big and awkwardly-shaped, is miles above the travesty that is the women's department of the average sporting goods store. Onto this depressing landscape the Rimrock Hikers shine like a beacon of hope. Pants, shirts, even coats can be compromised on; but as any outdoorsperson knows, you're only as strong as your feet.
I bought my first pair of Rimrock Hikers four years ago, before I set off for college. They survived an associate's degree with grace and style--and that includes miles of hiking every day, camping, caving, late-night-early-spring-salamander-hunting, wading, chainsawing, ghost-chasing, tractor-driving, an internship with the Forest Service, and just about everything in between. When I graduated they went West, and spent a good solid eight hours a day tromping over the soaked ground of the prairie pothole region in search of elusive grassland birds. For the autumn we headed back east and I wore them from sunup to sundown as an intern at an environmental camp. Afterwards we did a short-distance move to Lexington and, after several months of hoofing it around parks and some duct tape repairs, finally gave up the ghost. I bought another pair, and just in time, because the original Rimrock Hikers were discontinued and replaced with a very similar boot. I don't know why but my hope is that it wasn't to introduce something lower-quality. Don't disappoint me, Cabela's.

2. L. L. Bean Continental Rucksack
The Mary Poppins' bag of backpacks. I can't quite get everything I own into my rucksack, but I can come close. (The car doesn't fit.) It doesn't have bazillions of tiny useless pockets so you can sort out your chapstick from your pencils. Instead it has one central compartment, two water bottle holders on either side, and a biggish front pocket for stuff you need easier access to. There's lots of straps and buckles, so it's easy to batten down the hatches for long-distance hikes. It's also just plain a nice-looking, no-frills backpack. No weird patterns, no built-in water thingie, no large brand symbol, and it comes in several naturalist-y colors such as Tidal Sand and Dark Russet. It's the sort of backpack John Muir might wear whilst overlooking the Yosemite Valley and stroking his beard. The only thing I have a bit of a problem with is the width. It's a very flat pack, which means even when full it doesn't stick out very far in the back. This is a sort of double-edged sword because it disperses the weight better so you don't get tired as quickly, but it's also harder to dig through if you want the thing you packed on the very bottom. Also it's pretty tall and I'm a tiny bit short in the torso for it to fit quite in the way it's intended; for anyone under 5'2 it would probably not fit well at all. All in all though, it's the best pack I've had so far.

"I approve of your backpack." --John Muir

3. Nikon Monarch
I saved the best (and the most expensive at around $250) for last.This is actually a series of binoculars rather than one single model and I'm not quite sure which model I own, simply because most of the distinguishing markings have been worn off by 10 years of use. Mine are 8x42s but you can get Monarchs in just about any reasonable magnification. In terms of clarity, close focus, light-gathering capabilities, and all the other important binocular things, the Nikon Monarch consistently rises to the top of its price class and in my opinion out-performs some models with quadruple-digit price tags. It also just plain looks and feels like a good pair of binoculars--good weight, a rubberized coating that makes it easy to hang onto and more bouncy if dropped, good grips, and adjustable to a variety of faces--there isn't a thing to complain about. And you'd never know it's a piece of delicate optical equipment from the way I treat mine. It's advertised as waterproof and fogproof, but I can state from experience that it's also cement-proof, car door-proof, chocolate pudding-proof, semi-fire-resistant and about everything in between. (Disclaimer: Don't try it, though.) This is truly the cockroach of binoculars and I mean that as a compliment.

The Nikon Monarch also looks super sleek in action.

Friday, November 7, 2014

End-of-Season Hibernation (and a trip to the Red)

I guess it just comes with the territory of being a young, undereducated individual in the field of natural resources, but it seems like every time the end of a season rolls around you're finishing up one job and scrambling to find another. Most entry-level wildlife jobs are transitory by nature and you go into them knowing that in a couple months you're going to walk away and most likely never see those places or people again. I got a little lucky this year because I double-booked myself; in addition to my full-time job with Parks and Recreation, I did a fall stint as an educator at an environmental camp for 4th and 5th graders. Of course I didn't sleep and consumed as much coffee as a small country, but I figure only two months of it can't do too much long-term damage, and it's nice to have Job #1 still there for you when Job #2 ends.

A good day in pond study class
The last school wrapped up at the end of October and I've re-situated myself back at the park and hunkered down for a long slow winter. Like the red-eared sliders in the pond outside the window, wildlife kids undergo somewhat of a period of dormancy over the winter. Exciting seasonal field jobs are scarce; the best strategy is to find somewhere comfortable to pass the winter and spend your time wistfully paging through the Internet wildlife job boards.

As a last celebratory get-together my lovely camp coworkers and I headed down for a day jaunt to Red River Gorge in the Daniel Boone National Forest. To paraphrase Saturday Night Live's Stefon the tourism correspondent, this place has everything: Poisonous mushrooms, a suspension bridge, a snake venom extraction facility, a haunted railroad tunnel, and a pizza joint that serves rice as a topping. We started with a brief stop-in at the Kentucky Reptile Zoo to get our snake fix:

This absurd and fascinating little guy is a horned viper (Cerastes sp) from North Africa
Bitis gabonica, or Gaboon Viper. According to the interwebs this species has the longest fangs of any viperid--up to 2 inches.

From closer to home, a copperhead showing off his dead-leaf camo. This one is the southern subspecies (Agkistrodon controtrix contortrix


The proper way to enter Red River Gorge with style is via the Nada Tunnel. Built for use by a logging railroad during the early 1900s, this one lane, 900-foot tunnel through the mountain is not for the claustrophobic or people who don't like dark places with literal tons of sandstone over their heads. Having gone to school right next to the infamous Moonville Tunnel I have a special affection for haunted railroad tunnels, and the Nada Tunnel has its share of alleged specters and mysterious lights. Tragically, it's a verifiable fact that the construction of the tunnel was not without at least two casualties. One man was killed while trying to thaw frozen dynamite near a campfire; another man was wounded in the blast and a dog apparently died as well. It's hard to know what to say about someone who thaws dynamite out over a fire, but I guess we all have our moments. Some of us are just lucky and live through them.

The Red is full of dramatic rocks.

We were pressed for time and only took a short hike down a connector trail to the junction of the Sheltowee Trace Trail. A suspension bridge spans the Red River at the connection and provides lovely views, as long as you don't mind heights and rotten boards underfoot.

View of the Red River from the Sheltowee Trace suspension bridge

You can sort of see the Sheltowee Trace trail mark on the right hand side of the beam. The trail is named after Daniel Boone, whose name while living with the Shawnee tribe was Sheltowee or Big Turtle.

The Appalachian Trail has been on my bucket list since I was old enough to tie my own bootlaces, but it's hard to come by the time and money to tromp across the country for a whole summer. At around 300 miles the Sheltowee Trace Trail seems much more doable. Maybe next spring I'll crawl out of my den and do a little more wandering around down there.

Friday, October 10, 2014

Blood Moon

If there's one real advantage to jobs in the field of natural resources, it's all the wonderful early morning skies that you'll (be forced to) see. Yesterday's had the added bonus of a so-called "blood moon" eclipse, the second in a series of four supposed to conclude next year. Fortunately I was in rural Nicholas County at my second job as an environmental camp staff member; the city lights of my home base of Lexington are not conducive to astronomy.

The previous day had some weird weather. We were under an on-and-off tornado watch and huddled in the basements for our classes. Surrounding counties had building damage and heavy hail, but we were luckier and--although we were drenched and cold--thunderstorms was as bad as it got. The next morning I got up at 6am to a cold, clear morning with Orion shining brightly above the staff cabin and a big chunk already bitten out of the moon.
 
The copper-colored shadow spread so quickly that by the time I had retrieved my camera from the office, changed the batteries, and come to the realization that you have to remove the lens cap to take a picture, the eclipse was all but complete. By 6:40ish it was setting behind the treeline, still a garish red. Until April 2015, blood moon.

Wednesday, October 1, 2014

Camera Experiments

I have now officially graduated from an iPhone camera to a step above an iPhone camera with the purchase of a Canon Powershot SX510! Naturally what this means is that even more of my mediocre photography will be unleashed upon the unsuspecting internet. A second job teaching at a fall environmental camp has been keeping me pretty busy, but in between times I've been experimenting with all the different settings that I can't understand. It's a learning process but I'm comforted by the fact that there's nowhere to go but up.

 A patient Great Blue Heron at McConnell Springs Park

Vultures on a cloudy evening

Fall leaves with the palisade cliffs of the Kentucky River in the background--Jim Beam State Nature Preserve

Moonrise in Nicholas County

Sunset, North-Central 4H Camp