I've been working too hard. Teaching kids can really take it out of you. And on top of it all, I'm working on the Sharpie paper and trying to get into grad school. Graduate school seems to be inordinately difficult to get accepted to. And I hear similar things from people in different fields.
Anyway, I realized this morning that I didn't want to go and work on my computer at all. If I was going to do anything today, I decided, I was going to take a bird walk. I've been having all the symptoms of bird withdrawal: obsessively wearing my binoculars indoors, looking up bird species on Wikipedia when I should be working, and staring wistfully out of windows. So, I strapped on the bins and tucked the Sibley into my pocket and headed for the good birding trail.
The Eider Ducks greeted me when I got down to the water. I was soon soothed by their presence. On my walk I ended up seeing many species I hadn't seen before here. Here's my day's bird list:
Common Eider, Common Raven, Song Sparrow, Nelson's Sharp-tailed Sparrow*, Gray Catbird*, Black-capped Chickadee, Yellow-rumped Warbler, Ruby-crowned Kinglet, Golden-crowned Kinglet, Herring Gull, Pine Siskin, White-crowned Sparrow, Brown Creeper, Peregrine Falcon, Black-backed Woodpecker*, Ruffed Grouse, Mallard, and Slate-colored Junco.
* Lifers
Also had interesting encounters with some of the above species. The catbirds were meowing at me imperatively. The chickadees were foraging in the leaves, for all the world like a bunch of towhees except they were gleaning their insects along the ground, not kicking up the leaves. The grouse and I both apparently scared the bejeezus out of each other. It was a fun bird day, and they all gave me back my motivation.
Sunday, October 21, 2007
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Owl Prowl
Our night hikes are one of my favorite activities to do with the kids. It's a challenge to keep them quiet and from running amok in the dark. I've found that laying down the law early on gets them focused and makes the whole group have a better time.
Last night we went through the typical night hike activities, using our senses and exploring the adaptations of nocturnal and crepuscular animals. My group did hear some GHOWs contact-calling around the field area. At the end of the night, we usually bring all the groups back to the ball field to lay down and watch the stars. Last night it was pretty cloudy and the stars were hidden. So, Rachel started talking about the dark sky initiative, and how it's important to prevent light pollution. I heard the GHOWs in the distance and suggested we could all be quiet and listen. I love how, even though they've been noisy and a bit unruly all day, when there is something to listen for, everyone hushes up. We heard the calls a couple times. I was describing why animals use contact calls ("here I am, where are you?"), as opposed to the hoots heard during the breeding season. Then I mentioned it sounded like the calls were getting closer, and closer. The owls then flew right over our group. There were at least 3 of them, a little flock. I'm not sure what was going on, but there were at least 3 shadowy shapes. All of a sudden, one of them flared up and caught some light from a street light further down the street. The beautiful white & tawny pattern of an owl's ventral side was illuminated for a brief instant. Then, they flew over the ball field and we heard their shrieking diminish. I'm now known as the owl whisperer.
The kids were astounded. There was some excited discussion, but no one was shouting, no one was being obnoxious. I got up and told them how incredibly lucky they were. Not only has that not happened to any school groups before them, but most people in the whole world never get to see that. I told them to take the image they saw remember it for the rest of their lives. One kid said he felt chills run down his spine. I was feeling some chicken skin too, it was such a powerful moment, and one we had all shared. I suggested we thank the owls, and they all said "Thank you owls" out into the night.
Then, the next day, we all got a chance to look at the stuffed GHOW and talk about how big it was, how amazing the talons are, the adaptations to the eyes and ear placement. It was a great follow-up and there were stories told of the previous night and how Barn Owls live in some kids' barns. That was a great segue [okay, i just have a side note here: I just learned how to spell this word today; thanks Shaun. But, I have to say that even though I'm annoyed at the fact I thought it was spelled "segway", I think it just became one of my favorite words] into mentioning how important owls are to control rodents.
So, during one program I always point out the Sharpie tail feathers that are in a pile by the door, describing this hawk that attacks little songbirds, but who instead got attacked himself, probably by a Great-horned Owl. But then, my group was playing a game outside and this kid looks down and finds some feathers that are owl feathers (we all were so psyched by the really great example of fringing at the edges of the feathers which gives owls their silent flight.) and they are not GHOW and not Barred Owl! They're tiny, but there are 5 of them, really more part of a wing than just feathers; there are coverts connected and some gristle at the end. I ended up putting the wing piece on a sheet of paper and drawing the rest of the wing out as best I could. This wing is Saw-whet size. And Northern Saw-whet Owls are the only owls that size that are found in this area. How cool is that!?!?
It has truly been a wonderful, owly group. I'm thinking about typing up a "Finding-Owl-Wing" certificate for the kid who found the feathers on the ground.
Last night we went through the typical night hike activities, using our senses and exploring the adaptations of nocturnal and crepuscular animals. My group did hear some GHOWs contact-calling around the field area. At the end of the night, we usually bring all the groups back to the ball field to lay down and watch the stars. Last night it was pretty cloudy and the stars were hidden. So, Rachel started talking about the dark sky initiative, and how it's important to prevent light pollution. I heard the GHOWs in the distance and suggested we could all be quiet and listen. I love how, even though they've been noisy and a bit unruly all day, when there is something to listen for, everyone hushes up. We heard the calls a couple times. I was describing why animals use contact calls ("here I am, where are you?"), as opposed to the hoots heard during the breeding season. Then I mentioned it sounded like the calls were getting closer, and closer. The owls then flew right over our group. There were at least 3 of them, a little flock. I'm not sure what was going on, but there were at least 3 shadowy shapes. All of a sudden, one of them flared up and caught some light from a street light further down the street. The beautiful white & tawny pattern of an owl's ventral side was illuminated for a brief instant. Then, they flew over the ball field and we heard their shrieking diminish. I'm now known as the owl whisperer.
The kids were astounded. There was some excited discussion, but no one was shouting, no one was being obnoxious. I got up and told them how incredibly lucky they were. Not only has that not happened to any school groups before them, but most people in the whole world never get to see that. I told them to take the image they saw remember it for the rest of their lives. One kid said he felt chills run down his spine. I was feeling some chicken skin too, it was such a powerful moment, and one we had all shared. I suggested we thank the owls, and they all said "Thank you owls" out into the night.
Then, the next day, we all got a chance to look at the stuffed GHOW and talk about how big it was, how amazing the talons are, the adaptations to the eyes and ear placement. It was a great follow-up and there were stories told of the previous night and how Barn Owls live in some kids' barns. That was a great segue [okay, i just have a side note here: I just learned how to spell this word today; thanks Shaun. But, I have to say that even though I'm annoyed at the fact I thought it was spelled "segway", I think it just became one of my favorite words] into mentioning how important owls are to control rodents.
So, during one program I always point out the Sharpie tail feathers that are in a pile by the door, describing this hawk that attacks little songbirds, but who instead got attacked himself, probably by a Great-horned Owl. But then, my group was playing a game outside and this kid looks down and finds some feathers that are owl feathers (we all were so psyched by the really great example of fringing at the edges of the feathers which gives owls their silent flight.) and they are not GHOW and not Barred Owl! They're tiny, but there are 5 of them, really more part of a wing than just feathers; there are coverts connected and some gristle at the end. I ended up putting the wing piece on a sheet of paper and drawing the rest of the wing out as best I could. This wing is Saw-whet size. And Northern Saw-whet Owls are the only owls that size that are found in this area. How cool is that!?!?
It has truly been a wonderful, owly group. I'm thinking about typing up a "Finding-Owl-Wing" certificate for the kid who found the feathers on the ground.
Sunday, October 7, 2007
105 kids
We take kids out for night hikes where we play cool games ("Recognize Your Rock", "Owl & Mouse", "Bat & Moth") and learn cool facts (triboluminescence can be generated by crunching down on a Wint-O-Green Lifesaver -- try this in the dark in front of the mirror), and there's one part of the hike where we break out the pirate eye-patch. The point is to cover your night-adapted eye with your hand (which functions as a pirate eye-patch) and listen to a story while the uncovered eye re-adapts to light by looking at a white-light lantern. I like to tell a pirate story about our pirate ship attacking another pirate ship, and we're swashbuckling out on the sunny deck, taking prisoners and yelling "yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum". But then when we pirates go below deck to look for the treasure, we are plunged into darkness (turn off the lantern)...but then I tell them to change their pirate patch to the other eye, and look around. The covered eye is still dark-adapted and they can see the difference between the two eyes.
Been seeing tons of birds coming through, Canada Warblers, Northern Gannets, Yellow-bellied Sapsuckers, Blue-headed Vireos, Merlins, Baltimore Orioles, maybe a Tennessee Warbler, and a thrush that I thought was a Hermit until I looked in Sibley and saw how many Catharus Thrushes there are out here that look exactly the same (argh!).
So, we had 105 kids on campus last week. At one point I was in charge of 20 sixth graders in the dark. Hella crazy, but we all had fun in the end. Teaching is stressful, exasperating, challenging and rewarding. I highly recommend that all you field scientists get some experience in outreach. It's one of the most important aspects of conservation. And kids, when they're not whining or asking questions designed to push your buttons, are way more fun and interesting than many adults. There's one program I give about landscape change that I really enjoy. We walk around on a big UTM map, learn how to calculate UTM coordinates, play "lichens-shrubs-trees" (a rock-paper-scissors game that demonstrates forest succession), take GPS points in the forest and then put them into mapping software. And while we're walking around, every now and then I get to point to the sky and yell "Sharpie!" as one flies overhead. The kids heads snap up and they're all like, "Whoa, cool!" and then we talk a bit about migration and how awesome birds are.
So, suffice to say that things are great, but I definitely miss field work: the relative solitude, the intellectual stimulus, the colleagues, and the birds.
Been seeing tons of birds coming through, Canada Warblers, Northern Gannets, Yellow-bellied Sapsuckers, Blue-headed Vireos, Merlins, Baltimore Orioles, maybe a Tennessee Warbler, and a thrush that I thought was a Hermit until I looked in Sibley and saw how many Catharus Thrushes there are out here that look exactly the same (argh!).
So, we had 105 kids on campus last week. At one point I was in charge of 20 sixth graders in the dark. Hella crazy, but we all had fun in the end. Teaching is stressful, exasperating, challenging and rewarding. I highly recommend that all you field scientists get some experience in outreach. It's one of the most important aspects of conservation. And kids, when they're not whining or asking questions designed to push your buttons, are way more fun and interesting than many adults. There's one program I give about landscape change that I really enjoy. We walk around on a big UTM map, learn how to calculate UTM coordinates, play "lichens-shrubs-trees" (a rock-paper-scissors game that demonstrates forest succession), take GPS points in the forest and then put them into mapping software. And while we're walking around, every now and then I get to point to the sky and yell "Sharpie!" as one flies overhead. The kids heads snap up and they're all like, "Whoa, cool!" and then we talk a bit about migration and how awesome birds are.
So, suffice to say that things are great, but I definitely miss field work: the relative solitude, the intellectual stimulus, the colleagues, and the birds.
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