Branding, flooding, and dancing

I apologize for waiting so long to update, but our internet has barely worked this past week. A combination of 12 people using it and constant cloud cover has made it limp slowly along. Unfortunately, I won't be able to upload any pictures into this post at the moment. When the internet picks up again, I'll add them back in.

A LOT has been happening out here of late. The first was the addition of two plant biologists from Ontario who came to stay for a week and complete some field work. Our already cramped living conditions almost reached a breaking point, and tempers have been running high. With so many people in close quarters, different personalities and clashing wills come to a head. The two extra guys have now left, but this week we're receiving yet another addition, Darcy Henderson, who helped to develop the grazing experiment out here. He comes out every summer to help train the crew on plant identification.

As a continuation of last time, our little baby robins are getting close to fledging. It seems amazing to me that the parents haven't abandoned the nest, what with the constant disturbance of us going in and out of the nest.

Last Sunday (June 6th), we were invited to attend a local branding. I'd never been to one, so I was excited to see what it was like. My first thought upon arriving was horror at the gory process of castrating the bull calves. I was told repeatedly that they heal quickly and with no lasting damage (psychologically as well as physically I hope), but it was still difficult to watch. My next thought was how impressed I was with the efficiency at which the calves were processed. The calves were all inside a corral, and several ranchers on horseback were roping them one by one and hauling them over to where everyone waited. The calf was then wrestled to the ground, branded, castrated (if male), given two innoculations, and given an ear tag. A different person was in charge of each part, so the calf was only restrained for 3-4 minutes. There were three or four "lines" of people waiting to process each animal, so though there were over 100 of them, the entire operation was over in a couple hours.

I wanted to help in some way, so I was allowed to help wrestle the calf down and hold it while it was processed. For only being babies, those calves were STRONG! They definitely didn't like to be poked and prodded, and they let you know it. I had the time of my life though, enjoying the test of my strength against each animal's immensely.

One of my favorite parts was watching one of the horseman. In fact, he was a horseboy. He must have been only 6 or 7 years old, and he was atop this huge horse, roping calves with the best of them. I was immensely impressed with his skill, and how early the children are exposed to their parents' trade.

After the branding was complete, everyone feasted together. I was struck with the overarching sense of community that prevails out here. For an event such as a branding, all the neighbors come to help, and everyone relaxes together after. Everyone knew each other, and most had lived their whole lives here. Much time is spent swapping stories of this relation or that friend. I'd never experienced anything like this close-knit group of people who depend upon each other for their livelihoods.

Thursday night, (June 10) it began to rain. And it didn't stop. It continued all the way through Friday night, leaving the prairie soaked yet again. Apparently this is the most rain this area has had in many years. Even the farmers, who normally welcome and bless the rain, are cursing it. Their fields lay unseeded because the ground is too soggy to plow. Yesterday when we went to check nests, I was horrified to find that many of them were abandoned because of the rain. Chicks, some nearly fully-grown, were left to die in their nests, tiny reminders of the harshness of nature. The only good news about this is that birds re-nest very quickly, so I'm hoping that within a week or two, we will see an explosion of new nests being initiated.

Friday night was open mic night in Val Marie. We missed the last one, and were sad to realize that we'd miss this one as well. With all the rain, the road was unpassable. We decided to attempt a trip last night instead, figuring that if we showed up at the bar with instruments, we could start a second open mic night. Maggi and her crew left before us, as I was waiting for Chris to return from the field. They called and informed us that the road was still very bad, but that they had made it through. Amy and I, who still wanted to go, decided to attempt it. Most of the road to Mankota was fine, but there is a notoriously bad patch that we needed to cross.

Alas, after traveling a mere 30 meters or so into the bad patch, we got stuck. The ruts in the road were over a foot deep into the sticky clay surface. Unable to get any traction, we were trapped. Attempting to call Josh and Chris at the house only resulted in "busy" tones and failed signals. Very luckily for us, a couple pulling a cow trailer on a perpendicular road spotted us. They offered to give us a lift to a nearby house, where the people there would be able to get our truck out. We were left with Debbie Skinner, a wonderful lady who entertained us for the next two hours with conversation and cake. Her husband returned with some friends, and we visited for a while longer, now plied with good drink to supplement the cake. With the guys' help, our truck (which, unlike theirs, had only 2-wheel drive) was out in no time. One of the guys, Kevin, invited Amy and I to a dance a couple towns over, and since we had wanted a night out, we agreed. The dance was a fundraiser for the local hockey team, and we had an absolutely fantastic time. We have so few opportunities to get out, meet new people, and have fun, so when they do come along, we don't take them for granted. Apparently I was a topic of conversation at the dance for being American. I imagine some of the people in these small towns rarely get to meet new people either.

On the way home, Kevin's truck got stuck in the EXACT same place that Amy's had. So at almost 3:00 in the morning, we had to call the Skinners yet again to bail us out. I felt awful about it, but they were as kind and gracious as ever. This goes back to my musings about the community here. If someone is in need of help, you help them without a thought. I've never lived in a place like that, and it's a wonderful feeling. All you need, really, is to meet one person, who can then introduce you to ten more, and suddenly you find yourself invited to all sorts of events. The Skinners invited Amy and I to their branding this coming Saturday, and I can't wait to go. Hopefully I can help repay in part the kindness they showed us yesterday.

I can't believe that June is already half over; the month is flying by. Today was the first hot, sunny day we've had in over a week. Hopefully it's a sign that summer is getting a stronger hold and will beat out the cold and damp once and for all.

Achin' shoulders

The last couple days have been really rough. I've been purposefully holding off on dragging some of our lowland plots, hoping they'd have a chance to dry up a bit. Lowlands are areas that are lower in elevation than other surrounding areas, and have streams running through them. Around here, they are characterized by having a LOT of sagebrush. Basically, sagebrush (and greasewood) is the mortal enemy of nest draggers. Dragging a heavy rope with cans through the prairie is physically challenging enough, but dragging said rope through sometimes waist-high bushes can be complete hell. The rope constantly gets caught, and you spend every moment yanking on it or trying to "skip" it over upcoming shrubs. You can see below what such an area typically looks like. Well, the last two days we've dragged through some of the most difficult, shrubbiest areas. Needless to say, I'm completely exhausted and my shoulders are just a bundle of knots. To top it off, yesterday I actually found a blister on TOP of another blister on my ankle. Field work sure ain't for sissies.

Yesterday, while out checking nests in one of our ungrazed pastures, I looked up to see a female Northern Harrier, and I found myself watching an aeriel pursuit in progress as she chased down a Brown-headed Cowbird. She swooped and turned, finally grabbing the smaller bird out of mid-air with what looked like no effort at all. After a moment, the cowbird got free and began tearing straight towards me. It flew straight over my head, with the harrier still pursuing farther overhead. She chased the cowbird straight to the ground, then back up again, finally snatching it again. With what must have been a more secure grip, the harrier flew away toward the east, clutching the bird in her talons. I imagine she must have a nest somewhere, and is bringing the hard-earned meal back to her chicks.

On the way back, I stopped on a beautiful hillside and sat for awhile, just soaking up the view. For just a minute, the wind dropped, the birds ceased singing, and I found myself in complete quiet and peace.

The hillside was covered in flowering Death Camus which, as its name suggests, is poisonous if eaten. I also spotted a blister beetle, so called because of the blister-producing liquid it secretes if disturbed. Nature has certainly produced many defenses to protect its creations.

Just as I was leaving the hill, I looked behind me to see a huge storm cloud coming up right behind me. It's definitely intimidating to realize the wind is blowing it straight towards you.

I made a mad dash (as best as can be done with a heavy pack on) towards my ATV, which was still about a kilometer away. I made it to the vehicle just as the first drops began to fall. It was only about a 15 minute ride back to the house, but the rain began to pick up quickly. I was soon caught between wanting to get home as quickly as possible, and the fact that the faster I went, the more painful the rain struck me. Even going only 40 km/hr or so, each raindrop felt like a miniature bullet against my exposed skin. I was soon steering with only one hand, with the other trying in vain to shield as much of my face as possible.

To make matters even worse, I began to see lightning strike. Normally it isn't something that would concern me too much, but two ranchers were struck last summer while standing too close to a barbed-wire fence. One of them died, and the other was seriously injured. All this was going through my mind on my race home, realizing that I had to go through two barbed-wire fences. Perhaps I should have just sat the storm out, but at this point I was soaked, exhausted, and wanted only to get home. Luckily I made it back to the house just fine. It was an impressive storm, but I was very glad to be out of it.

Most of the crew was gone all week doing point counts in the West Block, so the nest crew had the house to ourselves. It was quiet and very nice. I like everyone here very much, but the cramped conditions are definitely difficult for everyone. They returned today, and in addition, we're hosting two additional researchers for the next week. We now have 12 people here, which is even more of a stretch than normal.

After our last couple days of hard work, I decided to give the nest crew today and tomorrow off. We've been invited to a calf branding later today, which I'm looking forward to. I've never been to one, and it should be exciting.

And in other fun news, the robin chicks under the porch have hatched!

(I'll post a picture later, as the internet isn't cooperating right now)

Enter June

Things have really begun to pick up around here, nesting-wise. June is our busiest season, as the majority of the birds around here begin laying eggs this month. As if to emphasize this point, my crew found 15 nests on June 1st! We've now found a total of 76 nests, 59 of which we are monitoring. We have 4 more plots to drag, then we'll be done with the first round of nest searching. Last year we only managed to complete two rounds, but I'm hopeful that this year we'll at least be able to start a 3rd one. We complete "a round" once all 26 plots have been dragged, then the next round begins right away. Obviously the more times each plot is searched, the more nests we will find, especially as the season progresses and new nests are begun.

Sometimes we find nests of species other than 7 species of songbirds we're monitoring. The other day, Amy and I managed to find this nest of an Upland Sandpiper. There's always the possibility of finding all kinds of nests out here, including shorebirds, ducks, and sometimes even raptors!

On Monday night, Bonnie, Chris, Amy, Barb, and myself decided to head to Mankota for dinner. Even though it's a 40-minute drive, sometimes it's nice to get out of the house for a little while. Things like restaurants and being waited on are definitely luxuries during the field season. On the way back, we were treated to a beautiful sunset.

We've definitely had some strange weather the last few days. Every time it isn't forecasted to rain, it does. When it forecasts rain, we get sunshine. It definitely makes it difficult to plan ahead. The problem is that weather out here is extremely regional. It may be raining in one pasture, but not in the next one. It all depends on where the clouds are heading.

This morning it was raining, so we waited until the afternoon to check nests. One of my favorite things about this job is seeing the progression of the nests from start to finish. I almost feel like a proud mother when I see the chicks getting bigger and more developed by the day. This is the same nest of Chestnut-collared Longspur chicks. In the top picture, they are approximately 2-3 days old. In the bottom picture, taken today, they are about 6-7 days old. Most of the songbirds out here fledge within 8-12 days of hatching, so they need to grow up fast!

Sometimes I get a nice surprise, like I did in this nest. The last two times it was checked, four chicks were seen. But today I noticed there were five. The chicks are so fuzzy and bundled together when they're young, sometimes you can't tell how many there really are.

Almost everywhere I go, there are cattle. The cows and calves spook easily, and generally keep their distance. The steers (castrated males) are much more curious though, and will sometimes follow me around. It's amusing until they begin investigating an area where I just checked a nest, then I get nervous they'll step on it.

Of course, the cattle aren't the only ones that are ever-watchful. Today I was lucky enough not to scare off this male pronghorn antelope, who was relaxing on a hillside.

It's amazing how much wildlife you can see right from the roadside. Many people may look at this landscape and think it barren. But take a walk or even a drive through it, and immediately you find yourself surrounded by critters of all shapes and sizes, like this Richardson's ground squirrel.

There is wildlife surrounding our house as well. Though the bird migration is all but over, some of the locals have decided to settle down. I have no farther to walk than my own front porch to find nests, as this robin nest proves.