Well, if I survive this, I guess I can work with anybody.

So, I survived the first round of surveys with the bird expert, and am very grateful to be back with my lovely office-mates. Bird guy wasn't too creepy this time around, just tedious. In fact, if I hadn't had such a bad first encounter with him, I mightn't have minded him at all this time, but you know how once a person gets so firmly on your bad side, they can do or say nothing without it grating on your nerves? Yeah, it's like that. And I'm going to be working with him on at least six more surveys. *sigh*

Anyway, apparently I hid my distaste fairly well, because at the end of our last day, he casually remarked that I "didn't seem as put off by him as I did the first time we worked together," as though he thought it was entirely my problem that I didn't get his sense of humour back then.

My terse response: "Uhh...well, sometimes it just takes a while to figure out how to take a person, I guess."

What I was screaming in my mind while visualizing throttling him with his binocular straps: "THAT'S BECAUSE YOU DIDN'T TALK ABOUT THE SIZE OF YOUR PENIS THIS TIME! OR YOUR FATHER'S PENIS! OR DEAD, PUTREFYING CORPSES BOBBING ALONG MERRILY IN THE GODDAMNED BROOK! YOU BIG, STUPID FUCKING OAF!!!"

Godtopus give me strength....

(Although, speaking of strength, I do think the 3 hours of walking in a bog every time we do these surveys is going to do wonders for my legs. Oh, and the walking is so tough that the bird expert doesn't talk much while we're walking to and from the study site. There, a silver lining.)

From the Captain’s Quarters

Another week, another business trip! Tonight, I’m coming to you live from the Seawind Landing Country Inn on the shores of Guysborough County, Nova Scotia. Okay, not “live,” actually—there’s no internet in my room, so I’m typing this to upload sometime tomorrow. There is internet in the common room, if you sit within about 3 metres of the wireless unit. I had to climb over a Bernese Mountain Dog to get to a seat with wireless. They’re a well-named breed; it was almost like scaling a small mountain! But Beaufort was a great sport about it, barely blinking as I hauled myself into the chair and tried to resist the urge to use him as a footrest. What a sweetheart! I’m a cat person, but I still want to take him home with me!

Frankly, I was grateful to have any wireless access at all, seeing as there’s no cell service here. And we can only make land line calls from the front desk phone, ‘cause the room phones are on a party line, so anyone can listen in. I was starting to feel very isolated! But I did have a chance to pop on briefly, inform Mr. meaux that I’d arrived in one piece (after a 4-hour drive on dark country roads I’d never been on before), and make some tentative plans for a mini-Pajibacon after work tomorrow (lordhelmet and meaux 2: Electric Boogaloo. Yay!). [Update: due to long field day, Minibacon ain't happening tonight. Wednesday it is!]

So, communication issues aside, I rather like these digs. It’s a lovely old inn; the rooms have tons of personality, and they have names, too! I was supposed to get one of the cheap rooms (though even the “cheap” rooms here are more expensive than the project manager would have liked—lucky for me, it was the only place to stay that was reasonably close to the study site. Score!). But because it was more convenient for the innkeepers, instead of the cheap room, I’ve been put in “The Captain’s Quarters.” Freakin’ sweet! Whirlpool tub? Check. Ocean view? (listens to the sound of waves gently crashing on rocks) Mm-hmm. The smell of something amazing baking, possibly some kind of herby/cheesy bread? Oh my, yes. Super comfy bed and cushy loveseat for sitting in and typing a blog entry? Check and double check!

Yes, the accommodations are lovely. The work…well, the work’s not bad—I like doing bird surveys just fine, especially when it’s along a nice scenic coastline. However, do you happen to recall from my previous post, the bird expert who liked to overshare? Yeah…I’m working with him again. *sigh* Ah well, I can deal. I have actually worked with him since that first time, and discovered that if you know what to expect (and how to avoid letting the conversation steer into awkward territory), he’s manageable.

I’d love some better company, but meanwhile, I’ll take what I can from the experience—the more I learn from this dude, the closer I become to being an adequate bird surveyor myself. However, I must admit that the thought of becoming a bird expert scares me a little, as most of the really skilled birders I know are, quite frankly, more than a little bit odd in one way or another. Do I want to be "one of them"??

Well, it's closing in on midnight, and I’d best wrap this up and try to get some sleep. I don’t know if that's going to happen any time soon, as I'm a little overcaffeinated…I just couldn't NOT try that damned Starbucks energy drink concoction I saw in the gas station refrigerator, in addition to the two large coffees I had on the journey, and two more large coffees earlier in the day. GAH!!! No wonder this entry is so rambly. Beg pardon. Okay, I’m cutting myself off now. (Dammit, this is exactly how I get when I'm leaving a phone message…oh, how I hate leaving messages….) OKAY! Say good night, Maureen!

'Til next time, folks.

Field Tales

Ahh, a successful and enjoyable field experience has come to an end. Well, "enjoyable" is a relative term--I could've done without the pain and exhaustion and wet, soggy feet every single day--but the company was great. Never underestimate the value of a good field partner in making any job seem bearable. This particular chap was a fellow bird geek, smart and knowledgeable (but not a know-it-all), and interested to learn the few things I was able to teach him. Also, relentlessly cheerful and able to maintain a sense of humour even as we were slogging through the dampest, dewiest chest-high vegetation. Couldn't have asked for better! I tend to worry when I'm asked to work with someone I've never met before, because I've had some...interesting luck in that department.

Exhibit A: a chap from Ontario, sent down to do stream habitat surveys with me. Buddy would not stop talking, making himself sound like an expert on every freakin' subject, not listening to anything I might have to contribute. I actually bought his know-it-all schtick for a while, until the day he commented that "You sure have a lot of sickly yellow conifers here in Nova Scotia. Something must be wrong with them." This was in November--our "sickly yellow" conifers were perfectly healthy tamarack trees. Their needles turn yellow prior to falling off in the fall. Every year. Same as they do in Ontario. Argh--nothing worse than an insufferable know-it-all who doesn't! But wait, there's....

Exhibit B: a guy from New Brunswick who was actually rather nice, but a complete and utter downer. Nothing I could say would lighten his mood. Mind you, we started on the wrong foot--thanks to some miscommunication, he had the impression we only needed him for a few days, when it was actually about 2 weeks. Okay, I couldn't begrudge him feeling a bit bummed about that. But two solid weeks of being stuck with a cheerless, mopey Eeyore? Well, I ran out of sympathy for him awfully fast, as I was using all my available pity on myself. Try maintaining a positive attitude when the only person you interact with all day long won't acknowledge the up side of anything. It ain't easy. But still, it beats the hell out of....

Exhibit C: the hired bird expert whom I was assisting. When we met for the first time, at the start of our field expedition, we started off talking about mutual friends and acquaintances in the local birdwatching community. Then, small talk: seen any good movies lately? What TV shows do you like? He expressed a dislike of Family Guy, on account of the raunchy humour...I thought to myself, "okay, he's maybe a bit of a prude, but that's fine."

Cut to that evening, over dinner. The teenagers at the next table led the birder to talk about his own puberty 35 or so years ago...and how it was especially difficult for him, because (oh jeebus, I cringe to type it) any time he'd get a boner in class, he had a hard time hiding it 'cause it was so large.

Oh, and later during that same dinner...and I have NO recollection of how the conversation went here...he told me about when he was a kid and saw his father's penis for the first time, he thought it was huge--"like an elephant's," to be exact. Of course, he was quick to add that he later learned that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

Sooo, that was the first day of a two-week stint working with this person. Alone. In the woods. Cue uncontrollable shuddering....Oddly, though, I didn't have the impression that any of this talk was intended to shock (or entice) me. I honestly think something in his mind-to-mouth filter mechanism is just broken. His social interaction system seems off, as further evidenced by the time that we happened upon an oddly tied garbage bag in a stream several days into the field program.

Birder dude decided that the bag almost certainly contained a body--after all, he was quick to share, in his 30 years of field work he'd found a few human bodies. He proceeded to tell me in detail why he was so sure about the bag: "See how that rope's tied there, around what's got to be the neck? And judging by the size, I'd say it's a little kid. Or maybe a dog. And it probably just floated downstream recently, 'cause it's all bloated after a few days of putrefying." Meanwhile, while not convinced it was a body, I was at the same time freaked out and trying desperately to change the topic ("Hey, what's that call, a waterthrush?"), or at least to signal to him that I didn't need all the detail, but he was absolutely fixated.

By the way, we reported the garbage bag to the local police that afternoon. It turned out to contain...drumroll please...motherfucking GARBAGE.

Anyway, in the spirit of No Whining Wednesdays, I should point out that even these horror stories have a silver lining. I would never have these crazy-ass tales to tell my scandalized friends and office mates if I hadn't worked with these people!

Family Stories from Dirty Laundry

Huh, I’m 31 years old, and I think this is the first time I’ve ever used a Laundromat! Funny, that....

Anyway, waiting for my clothes to wash gives me a long (long!) overdue opportunity to update poor, sad little Happy Apathy. Where to start? I think I’ll take a step back in time to May of this year. The location, my hometown in western Cape Breton; the occasion, my Grandma Robie’s 90th birthday open house celebration.

Her kids and grandkids had decorated the town Arts Centre with Grandma’s own handiwork. Hand-sewn quilts were draped on walls, and any remaining free space was taken up by her paintings (mostly local landscapes), all borrowed from the family members and friends she’d so lovingly made them for. My contribution? An amazing all-white cotton quilt covered with an incredibly intricate pattern of stitches, a wedding gift made for us by my mom and grandma together. On the tables were bouquets of the wildflowers that Grandma Robie so cherished, and taught her grandkiddies so much about (is it any wonder two of us grew up to become biologists?).

Early in the afternoon, Grandma’s many friends and admirers in the community were invited to drop in and offer their best wishes. A mother of nine and a longtime nurse at the local hospital, Grandma is very well-known in our small town, so the open house was a happy blur of (mostly) familiar faces. It was especially adorable to see her with my mother-in-law’s Dutch neighbour and his wife—Pieter’s always admired my grandmother, often comparing her to the regal and much-loved late Queen Mother; likewise, Grandma has a real soft spot for the Dutch (ever since her days as a nurse working in Halifax during WW2), and for Pieter in particular.

Following the open house, the whole family gathered for dinner. The nine kids and sixteen grandkids were all gathered (for the first time ever!), along with their significant others and the church minister. My cousins came from as far as Vancouver and Toronto just for the occasion!

During dinner, we paid homage to the guest of honour, with almost everybody taking turns at the mike telling "grandma stories"--quite a feat, as we Camerons are NOT fans of the spotlight, as a rule.

Among the highlights:

My dad making wisecracks about poor Grandma’s driving habits. His favourite, the legendary time she picked up her older sister at her niece’s place, put the car in gear, and hit the gas…only to discover (after backing into a basement window) that she’d put the car in *reverse* gear. Aunt May fainted, poor Grandma thought she’d killed her…this was shortly before she gave up driving. I don’t imagine Grandma found it terribly funny at the time, but she had the grace and good humour to laugh along with the rest of us!

Grandma’s oldest son and his oldest son, the musically gifted members of the family, performing a duet on piano and guitar. No, I don’t remember what they played, but it was lovely.

My painfully shy and frustratingly self-conscious little brother getting up to speak, much to the surprise of all of us. He told the story of Grandma taking the time to teach him to paint. It didn’t spark a lifelong hobby, but with her help he created a lovely painting of an autumn scene that hangs in my parents’ place with pride even now. I don’t know if Aaron even knows how proud he made my dad that night!

Many of the older cousins reminisced about our childhood sleepovers at Grandma's. The excitement we all shared when our cousins from out of town came to visit; getting together to play earnest, rousing games of "Court" (oddly, none of us grew up to be lawyers, and very few of us have ever actually been to court); waking up to Grandma’s amazing pancakes (and, of course, partaking in pancake-eating contests)…these were things I hadn’t thought about in ages, and recalling the memory gives me the warm fuzzies even now.

And with that, my poor abused hiking boots have finished tumbling in the dryer, and I have finished rambling in the laundromat. Sorry for the long and somewhat scattered post, but I was looking for a place to record and preserve the memory of that lovely celebration of my wonderful grandmother, and this seemed like as good a place as any. 'Til next time!