Expedition Angano

Here at Dispatches we love the support we get from the blogging community near and far – thank you! This week we wanted to showcase some of the work done  by other bloggers in the community.   Today’s dispatch is a story originally told on Mark Scherz personal blog ( http://www.markscherz.com/blog) and we are lucky enough to re-post it here today!  Mark is a PhD student at the Zoologische Staatssammlung München (ZSM), Ludwig-Maximilians-Universität München, and Technische Universität Braunschweig where he studies the reptiles and amphibians of Madagascar. For more stories and updates from Mark, follow him on Twitter @MarkScherz 

Note the distinct edges of the forest fragments to the right of this image.

From December 2015 to January 2016, I traveled with a team of researchers from the UK and Madagascar to a remote forest in Northern Madagascar. Our goal was to characterise the reptile and amphibian fauna of this forest, and to study a phenomenon called the ‘edge effect’ and how it influences the distribution of these animals. The trip was called Expedition Angano.

In order to study these effects basic knowledge is needed on habitats, abiotic characteristics, and of course, the local fauna. We collected all of this data by setting semi-permanent transects along which reptiles and amphibians were observed, the vegetation was characterized, and temperature were measured. My role in this project was to identify species in the field, and collect specimens for later investigation. Half of these would of course stay in Madagascar, while the rest would come with me back to Munich.The concept of the edge effect is simple: habitats bordering other habitats form edges. These edges can be gradual or sharp, and consist of a turnover in biotic and abiotic factors, such as leaf litter depth, relative humidity, and hours of sunlight per day. As you would expect, animals change with the environment, with more drought tolerant species being found closer to or beyond the first edge, and humidity dependent species being found only inside the forest. It is not always possible to predict which species is going to be found in which part of the edge region, especially for poorly understood species like the herpetofauna of Madagascar. The depth of edge effects is also variable. It is important to understand the role of habitat edges in determining species composition and abundance, so that conservation measures can be properly informed.

During this main phase of the project, we collected 46 species of reptiles and amphibians. Of these, at least twelve do not yet have names, and of these, four are almost certainly new to science. I will begin description work on some of these species soon. We are in the process of performing statistics on the distributions of all of the encountered species in order to assess how they are distributed relative to the edges of the focal forest.

Platypelis grandis

Boophis andreonei

Spinomantis peraccae

Guibemantis liber

Mantidactylus femoralis

Boophis sp. nov. (previously known only from tadpoles)

Stumpffia sp. nov.

Uroplatus sp. Ca1

Mantidactylus sp. nov.

Uroplatus sikorae

Boophis sp. nov. (previously known only from tadpoles)

Plethodontohyla guentheri

Mantidactylus cf. biporus

Gephyromantis horridus

After the main phase of the project, I continued to a second site with one student, two guides, and the driver, and we performed a series of rapid faunistic assessments of different small forest fragments along the RN31 between Bealanana and Antsohihy. This research was on forests much nearer to the main road, and in consequence, the forest was quite significantly more degraded. The main goal was to find adults of species that had previously been known only from tadpoles collected in the same area. This was only partially successful, as we managed to find just one of the desired species. However, I still succeeded in finding some really interesting animals (almost all frogs), some of which are probably new to science.

Guibemantis liber

Gephyromantis sp. cf. Ca28

Stumpffiacf. pardus, one of the new species described

Compsophis sp. aff. albiventris

 

Mantidactylus sp. (aff. zavona?)

Over the last few months, we have been working on the preliminary report from the main portion of the expedition. This report should be finalised and sent around to our funders and stakeholders in the next few weeks, after which it will be made freely available online.

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There must be something in the water

Please join us in welcoming Cheryl Reyes to the blog this week! Cheryl, a recent graduate from the University of Waterloo, is currently working as a Conservation Technician with the Nature Conservancy of Canada. For more about Cheryl, see the end of this post.

Although I have been working at a land conservancy monitoring alvar and tallgrass prairie ecosystems, and managing invasive plant species for the last few months, one thing remains the same: when I stumble upon a river, wetland or small creek I always wonder, “what kind of benthic invertebrates are living there”.

This recurring thought stems from my first true interest in the field of ecology: water and benthic macro-invertebrate sampling.

Sampling benthics often means going to very beautiful places sometimes in the middle of nowhere.

Benthic macro-invertebrates are aquatic insects that live at the bottom of water bodies, such as aquatic worms, leeches, beetles and flies. They do not have a backbone and are large enough to see with the naked eye, but when you put them under a microscope for further analysis they look much more impressive! These little creatures can reveal a lot about the health of a freshwater system because they are an important part of the aquatic food chain and respond quickly to stressors such as pollution. For this reason, they are referred to as “indicator species”.

One of my favourite photos of a mayfly larva, from the Ephemeridae family. You can distinguish mayfly larvae by their side gills and three (sometimes two) tails. This one has tusks on its head!

I was first got introduced to benthics during a field ecology course at the University of Waterloo. Since then I have collected and identified benthic invertebrates for many organizations, most recently during my role as a Monitoring Technician at the Crowe Valley Conservation Authority. Crowe Valley runs a benthic monitoring program within their watershed to monitor water quality. Sampling sites are located throughout the watershed and benthics sampling follows the Ontario Stream Assessment Protocol (OSAP) and the Ontario Benthos Biomonitoring Network (OBBN).

Sampling for benthics is fun and easy to do. Dressed in waders, with a net in hand, two people get into a stream and move between the banks while kicking up the substrate on the bottom. The net is swept back and forth through the water to collect benthics. The continuous sweeping motion is important to prevent any benthics collected from swimming out of the net. After three minutes of kicking and sweeping, the contents of the net are emptied into a bucket and hauled back to the lab/office for identification.

Me sampling for benthics. This was a great day because it was the only day of the entire field season I didn’t have to cover my face to protect myself from the bugs.

However, as is the case with most field work, sampling for benthics is not always the most glamorous job. Sometimes you get so into the Footloose-esque substrate kicking that you forget to watch your footing and trip over some large rocks, a log, or if you’re lucky (or unlucky) a large snapping turtle. Other times you wish the three minutes of kicking would be over because you can feel the sweat pooling in your waders. Much of the time you can’t see a darn thing because you have your bug jacket on to prevent all the mosquitos, black flies and deer flies from devouring your flesh. And when you look at the contents of your net, it’s hard not to wonder, “Are there actually any bugs in this giant pile of mud, rocks and leaf litter??”. But the most draining thing is hauling your large buckets and equipment to the site, then hiking the full buckets out from isolated locations after a long day’s work…then enduring the frequently lengthy drive back to home base.

My work station for 8 months at the Crowe Valley office. During my undergraduate, I was used to identifying bugs in a laboratory setting. But while working at Crowe Valley, I had to use ingenuity to set up a functional work station!

Studying benthics is definitely its own realm of ecology, with its own fieldwork quirks, and I love it. Why? The reward is always great. When you find benthics in your bucket and put them under a microscope, you get a sense of how complex aquatic ecosystems really are. I could spent hours looking at all the different taxa and the features that make them truly unique specimens. And because they tell you about water quality, studying them allows you to begin to appreciate how important water is in our everyday lives, and why it’s essential that our ever-developing society conserves and protects freshwater ecosystems.

So next time you see a body of water, remember that there is a little universe lurking in the depths of the substrate. All you need to discover it is some waterproof footwear, a container and a net.

Caddisfly larva from the Hydropsychidae family in the palm of my hand. This taxa, as a member of the Hydropsychidae family, spins nets that help it catch food such as algae, leaf litter and smaller benthic invertebrates.

 

Cheryl Reyes is a graduate of the School of Environment, Resources and Sustainability at the University of Waterloo. Her undergraduate research focused on assessing the benthic invertebrate communities of restored streams in urban areas. She is currently working as a Conservation Technician for the Nature Conservancy of Canada.

 

Putting the citizen back in science

I love citizen science. It gets people out in nature, learning new skills, and contributes to important goals for science and conservation. Although my current work is focused on conservation , I still contribute to science, as a citizen, in any way that I can. One of my favourite ways is using Ontario Nature’s Ontario Reptile and Amphibian Atlas.

Reptiles and amphibians are experiencing declines globally as a result of habitat loss/fragmentation, climate change and predation among many other reasons. In fact, as of April 2018, all of Ontario’s 8 species of turtles are now considered species at risk (SAR) and are at risk of disappearing from the province. Turtles in particular are sensitive to the challenges of living in a human’s world. In general, turtles take a long time to mature, and when even a couple of turtles from a population die, it can have a cascading effect. Turtle eggs are also frequently predated by various other species (i.e. raccoons, foxes, etc.) and many turtles lay eggs in sandy areas next to roads, which puts the turtle and their eggs at serious risk.

What can we do to protect turtles, and the rest of Ontario’s reptiles and amphibians?

Use the Atlas! The Ontario Reptile and Amphibian Atlas is a tool that helps track reptiles and amphibians across Ontario over time.

How does it work?

If you see an amphibian or reptile, report it! You can report it using the app, via -email, using an online form, or snail mail the sighting in. Fill in as many details you can and include a photo if you have one.

You can also use the Atlas to identify amphibians and reptiles using the online field guide and range maps, or find tips for finding a reptile or amphibian near you.

Just the other day, while heading to a site visit, our technician and I spotted a Blandings turtle (threatened in Ontario) in the middle of the road. After being sure the road was clear, we quickly picked up and moved the turtle across the road. The turtle wasn’t thrilled about being moved but it happily waddled away into the marsh along the side of the road when we put it back down. After getting back into the car, we entered the data including location, and this photo into the Atlas. Doing this created a permanent record of our sighting and contributed to our understanding of the distribution of Blandings turtles in Ontario.

The beautiful and shy blandings turtle we rescued from the road

Getting out in the field and contributing to science doesn’t have to be fancy, elaborate and expensive. It can be as easy as spotting an animal and entering the data into an app on your phone! We are all scientists and we can all make a difference!

Look – a Chamois! 

We are excited to welcome Dr. Deborah Leigh to the blog today. Deborah is currently working as a Postdoctoral Fellow at Queen’s University in Kingston, Ontario, Canada. Although Deborah is a seasoned Field Biologist, today she writes about her first adventure in the field doing her own work! For more about Deborah, see the end of this post. 

Fieldwork for me has taken many forms. It has ranged from a few exhausting hours scrambling around the Alps to get Ibex tissue samples, to months at remote field stations, living and breathing for each data point or blood sample. But whatever the length, location or purpose, fieldwork has always been inspiring. Sure you have the moments where you are wet, grumpy, tired, and probably shouldn’t have just said what you did to your equally soggy companion, but being in the field and seeing your study organism is blissful to me. (I write this of course, from the warm and dry of my office. So the field’s gifts of blisters, bruises from falls (every time I go into a forest!), and damp socks, have been erased by nostalgia.)

Though I was lucky enough to do fieldwork from early on in my Bachelor’s degree, the first time I went into the field for myself was during my PhD. (Sadly, I never saw the elusive Corncrake from my Master’s in the wild.) So it was with impish glee that I stumbled upon my first Alpine Ibex at the top of Pilatus in the first month of my PhD. There she was, hiding in amongst the rocks, basking in the sun.

The first Ibex I saw

For those of you who have been to Pilatus, you will know that this is not a difficult site to reach. There is a funicular train that takes you up to the top of the two thousand meter peak, and you will probably see Ibex from the train if you are lucky. Due to the accessibility of the site, I shared my profound moment of scientific development with two tourists who insisted that my Ibex was, in fact, a Chamois. (Dude, no – just no).

For me, however, the journey to this Ibex was so much more arduous then the planes, trains and automobiles the tourists had used to arrive on the peak.  I had moved to Switzerland only weeks before, starting my PhD immediately after finishing my MSc and spending a field season in New Zealand. Needless to say, I was exhausted and felt completely out of my depth. My lab mates all seemed very tall, very wise, and painfully smart.  No one understood my British sarcasm; in fact, they initially thought I was horribly rude because of it. And I certainly did not understand Swiss German.

However that moment of seeing an Ibex amongst the rocks made me glow with happiness. The angst and exhaustion melted away and I knew I was working on something I found amazing and I would make the most of this – if not for me then for the Ibex. In amongst the tourists’ Chamois proclamations, I snapped a picture that still fills me with the joy and peace of that moment.

I guess my point is that though fieldwork physically serves a purpose in many graduate student projects, it should also form a part of those for which it isn’t ‘essential’. Without those amazing moments, you might never have a fire for your project, and you really need that fire in your gut to drag yourself through a PhD.

Fieldwork doesn’t have to be an epic saga where you sit in a tent for 6 months and grow increasingly mouldy; it can be a few hours or days of just observing. I think that’s important to say, because many field biologists look down on fieldwork that isn’t all encompassing. But there’s no reason they should: the point of fieldwork can be scientific exploration, collection, or inspiration, and it can be a sprint or a marathon. Whatever lights that fire and keeps you going through the dark tunnel of the thesis write-up work for me.

So go get your boots muddy.

 

Deborah is a Postdoctoral Fellow at Queen’s University, Canada. She currently works in the Friesen lab, using genomic tools to understand local adaptation in Seabird populations. Her career has taken her from Edinburgh University (BSc), to Imperial College London (MRes), to the University of Zurich (PhD). She dabbled in behavioural ecology before moving to genetics and then genomics. Deborah has done field work in the Cairngorms (Hoverflies), St Kilda (Soay Sheep), New Zealand (Hihi project), Switzlerand and Italy (Ibex). You can read more at https://deborahmleigh.weebly.com/ 

Falling in love with fieldwork

We are excited to welcome our good friend Bronwyn Harkness to the blog today! Bronwyn recently completed a Masters of Science in the Department of Biology at Queen’s University where she studied seabirds. She did some pretty amazing fieldwork on the eastern Canadian coast and she tells us all about that today. For more about Bronwyn, see the end of this post. 

I recently found the journal I kept during my first ever field season as I was doing a bit of spring-cleaning.  I thought it might be fun to look back and reflect on some of my first fieldwork experiences! I remember being excited but nervous about going into the field for the first time. After waving goodbye to my parents at the airport I thought ‘What have I gotten myself into!?’ Thankfully it was a wonderful experience and quite the adventure!

I studied seabirds during my Master’s and was fortunate enough to spend time in Newfoundland working with Environment and Climate Change Canada on remote seabird colonies. Fieldwork wasn’t a necessary part of my Master’s project (although I did do some of my own sample collection later on), and so I was mostly there to get experience and help out with a variety of Environment and Climate Change Canada projects. I spent my first few weeks on Gull Island, which is a small island in Witless Bay, about half an hour south of St. John’s. The island is protected and only those with permits (typically researchers) are allowed on the island, however the bay is a popular place for whale watching tours. Gull Island is an active field station, with lots of coming and going, and I met so many wonderful people while I was there (it’s true was they say about Newfoundlanders – they really are the friendliest people you will ever meet). I am grateful to all of the people I worked with for their patience and kindness while I got the hang of seabird fieldwork!

Here are snippets from some of my journal entries during those first few days on Gull Island, NL:

June 20/2016 

Island day! I got picked up at 8:00 am this morning and went to the Environment Canada office to do some paperwork and meet the rest of the team 🙂 We packed up all of our supplies (including food and equipment) and went to the warehouse where I got kitted up with a pair of rubber boots, some dry bags, and a survival suit. It took us about 45 minutes to get from St. John’s to Witless Bay, where we unloaded the gear and launched the boat.  Half the group went to the island on the first trip and the other half went to the grocery store, while I guarded the gear. Eventually our driver came back with the boat and we piled in with the rest of the gear. When we got to shore we hopped onto the rocks and unloaded everything. It was pretty amazing to see the island for the first time. There were birds everywhere! We had to carry all the gear up a steep hill, which was covered in puffin burrows. It was tough going but luckily there was a group of us working together.  Had a beer once we were done lugging gear – beer has never tasted better. I helped make pasta for dinner and I was so hungry and tired that it tasted so good! [I have since learned that everything always tastes better in the field.] I am excited to see what tomorrow brings.

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There are birds everywhere! (These are Common Murres!)

 

June 21/2016

Slept decently well last night although I did have to go to the outhouse in the middle of the night.  There were Leach’s storm petrels everywhere and they were so loud! I could see their silhouettes but couldn’t get one in the light so I’m looking forward to seeing them up close today.

Last night I asked when everyone usually gets up and everybody sort of shrugged and said there wasn’t a specific time, so I foolishly set my alarm for 8:30 a.m.  Ha. I got out of bed at 6:40 a.m. (a.k.a. 5:10 a.m. in Ottawa), and I was the last one up. But I woke up to freshly brewed coffee and french toast so I have no complaints.

Later that day

What a cool day! Grubbed my first petrel! Then grubbed a lot more haha. To ‘grub a petrel’ you find a burrow and stick your arm in slowly, feeling around for the egg and / or bird. The egg is small, white, and paper thin, so you have to be very careful with it.  The birds are very sweet, although they do nibble at your fingers when you get close. Petrels also have a very peculiar smell, like musty laundry. Grubbing attire includes long sleeves and fingerless rubber gloves duct-taped to your sleeves.

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Leach’s Storm Petrel that I grubbed from a burrow

June 22/2016

Saw three whales today – I love whales! In the morning we attached GPS geolocators to five petrels and in the afternoon we worked at the PIT tag plots. [The GPS geolocators are used to track where the petrels go on their foraging trips while the PIT tags are used to monitor each time a petrel returns to its burrow.  Leach’s storm-petrel populations have been declining and researchers are not entirely sure what is causing this.  By tracking petrels during foraging trips and monitoring their survival throughout the breeding season we can hopefully get a better idea of when mortality might be occurring.]   I got to band, bleed, and do all of the measurements for one of the petrels! Hopefully I’ll get to do this with some of the larger birds too!

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Recording data at PIT tag plots

June 25/2016

After lunch we did some murre stuff! There were three of us, so one person used the noose pole to catch the birds, while the other two recorded data and took blood samples. [If you’ve never seen someone use a noose pole to catch murres then I will do my best to explain this somewhat comical procedure. Murres live in large colonies on cliff edges and will sometimes flush off the cliff quite easily if there is a sudden movement or loud disturbance. This means you have to crawl on your stomach to the edge of the cliff, then extend the pole out and try to slip the loop over a murres’ head. A noose pole (also known as a catch pole) is a long extending pole with a large plastic loop on the end that is placed over the bird’s head and then tightens slightly to allow you to retrieve the bird.  Once you’ve got the loop over the bird’s head, you need to guide the pole with the bird up over the cliff edge and get the bird into a bag to calm it down. It’s a bit like fishing for birds! To release the murre when you’re done, you have to launch them up high and over the edge of the cliff because they are such terrible fliers that they will just plummet straight down otherwise. Rest assured murres are quite sturdy and are not at all hurt by this process.]

Also, murre eggs are gorgeous. They vary in colour but some are bright blue and they all have these black markings that look as though someone has dipped their fingers in black paint and dribbled it over the eggs. Beautiful!

Also also, I got seriously pooped on by a murre today. Thank god for MEC pants!


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Common Murres

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Common Murre eggs (These were far from the breeding site and were likely predated by gulls)

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Trying to catch Murres with a noose pole – not as easy as it looks! (Photo taken by Brody Crosby)

June 26/2016

Today we went out to the other side of the island to do some puffin work. We were measuring 50 eggs (they looked like chicken eggs) and catching a few adults to weigh, band, and take blood samples from. They are super cute but man are they angry! They have such a nasty bite and one actually managed to take a chunk out of my hand even though I was wearing gardening gloves!  [To be fair, if someone appeared uninvited in my home (and grabbed me!), I would also be quite upset!]

 

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Atlantic Puffins (and a Herring Gull) congregating outside their burrows

July 4/2016

As I was brushing my teeth this morning beside the cabin I heard the pitter-patter of footsteps on the roof. I looked up and one-by-one a group of puffins poked their heads over the edge of the roof until there were five of them watching me. I love it here!

July 6/2016

Last day on the island! Sad to be saying goodbye but excited to have a shower (day 17 of not showering!).  Arrived at my new accommodations in St. John’s. I think the guy at the front desk thought I was a little odd because I looked like dirt and was overly excited about the soap that they were selling at the front desk and the opportunity to buy a laundry card. Little does he know what I’ve been up to for the past few weeks…

And so ended my first experience in the field! Since then, I have spent lots of time out at different seabird colonies on the east coast of Canada, but I always love going back to Gull Island. Thank you to the lovely folks at Environment and Climate Change Canada for introducing me to the wonderful world of fieldwork and allowing me to join their team each summer. I will always cherish my time in Newfoundland!

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Bronwyn Harkness is a research assistant in Dr. Vicki Friesen’s lab at Queen’s University, Kingston, Ontario.  Bronwyn completed both her Bachelor of Science Honours and Master’s degrees at Queen’s, studying seabird population genetics with Dr. Friesen.  Bronwyn is broadly interested in avian research and conservation and will be joining Bird Studies Canada this summer to study and monitor Aerial Insectivores. You can find Bronwyn on Twitter at @BronwynHarkness.

Clean up, clean up, everybody, everywhere

Setting up experiments in the field is some of the most challenging, but also fun and rewarding work. Cleaning up experiments in the field is… well…just as challenging but a lot less fun! As I wrapped up my Ph.D. in the fall, I had to start to clean up the mess that I had made over the years. In this old field site, I was trying to understand what predicted abundance of introduced plant species and thus, I installed 10 inch deep aluminum cylinders (100 of them!) to create micro-communities, introduced some species, then installed cages (made of hardware cloth) to keep deer and voles away. It took several months to set up and it was a beautiful sight! But after many years of sampling and a few years of negligence, the beauty quickly turned to chaos. And then, it was time to clean it up. This clean up included three main tasks, all of which seemed fairly easy at the time.

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The field site in it’s peak summer bloom

Task #1: Mark 50 cylinders for future re-location

We chose to start with this task because we thought it would be the easiest. All we had to do was randomly select 50 of the 100 cylinders to mark with a wooden stake. Once the plots were selected, we drove a wooden stake on the north corner of the plot. The first plot, in the low-lying corner of the field where the soil is very loamy, was very easy to drive the stake into. And from there, things went downhill very quickly. I remembered 5 years earlier, when I had installed those aluminum cylinders, that the field was quite rocky and difficult to dig in. And that certainly had not changed! 8 hours later, after many cursed rocks, splinters in my fingers and hot, stinging biceps, it was done. The next day we would tackle my next task, which had to be easier than this one.

 

Task #2: Remove the other 50 cylinders

Installing these cylinders in 2013 SUCKED. It was a back-breaking, miserable task. They were installed for almost 5 years and until I finished using them, we never considered what it would take to remove them. It was late fall and the ground was very wet, so we figured this would be the prime time to move them. We figured they would just slide right on out…like a knife in soft butter! But once again, what you think, is not always realistic. Those cylinders would not budge. I had a field assistant with me, and we had a pair of pliers in each hand. We grasped the cylinder with both hands and heaved upwards…and nothing. Not even a slight movement. Even worse, the cylinders were made of aluminum flashing and if you pulled too hard, or on an angle, you would tear a piece of it off, your arms would fling up in the air and you would quickly lose your footing and land smack right on your bum! Eventually, after bruised tailbones and callused hands, we developed a system of careful jiggling, wiggling and coordinated heaving that removed those 50 cylinders. But I will admit, I cried several times that day! That day was terrible…at least the final task of the clean up would be easy!

 

Task #3: Tidy up fences

Like I said before, we used hardware cloth fencing throughout the project to keep herbivores and granivores out of the cylinder plots. However, as the experiment ended and the final sampling occurred, some cages did not end up back on the plots, and in the subsequent years, many blew off and were now littered all over the field site. But all we had to do was pick them up and store them in the field house. Simple, right? Well, it wasn’t so simple. The difficult part was that, like I said, they had been like that for a few years. Thick tufts of grass were growing up and intertwined between the quarter inch holes in the hardware cloth. If you pulled on the cage to pick it up, it wouldn’t budge. It was even worse than the cylinders. It took us over 30 minutes to coax one of them out from the jungle of grass, and it was at that point, we accepted that this was a task that would be easier in the spring, once the vegetation had died back a bit more. I am not totally convinced that this is true, but it does leave me with an excuse to do more field work in one of the best field work seasons!

Love birds: the day I broke a turkey’s heart

One of my favourite field work stories comes from my very first field season. I’ll be the first to admit that I had no idea what I was doing back then. I couldn’t identify most plants, was slightly scared (ok, terrified) of dragonflies and went to the field wearing outfits I would wear to work at my part-time retail job later in the day…what was I thinking???

Anyways, I remember it being a brisk morning in May. We were looking for target plants of about 30 species in an old-field at the Queen’s University Biological Station to monitor flowering time and plant size. We had no idea what species we were targeting as plants were too small that early in the season. Instead we were simply looking for morphological differences and naming them something we would remember. For example, Danthonia spicata, or poverty oat grass, is a low-growing grass with soft and fuzzy leaves. Grasses are difficult to identify without flowers so in the earliest parts of the season we referred to poverty oat grass as “fuzzy grass”.

That morning I was working in a low-lying area of the field right next to some bushes at the tree line. I was uncomfortably crouching down wearing dark jeans that had little movement in them and my dressy brown blouse was catching in the wind and blowing up to meet my brown baseball cap. I had my back to the bushes and was busily searching the ground looking for “looks like marijuana plant” aka Potentilla Recta. I heard a rustle behind me, and before I could even turn around, I glanced up at another field crew member who was standing about 20 feet in front of me. “Oh my God, turn around,” she exclaimed. I briskly turned my head and just a few feet behind me was a huge Tom (an adult male wild turkey). He had emerged from the bushes and was fanning his beautiful and bright tail feathers and dragging his strong wings along the ground beside him.

I was frozen and had no idea what to do. I had seen plenty of wild turkeys in my life but generally they had avoided me, like they do most humans. What on earth was this turkey doing? Why was he …. *holy *&#%*… it came to me. He thought I was a TURKEY TOO. My wavy brown blouse, brown hat and crouched down position probably made the poor guy think “WOW, now that is a BIG turkey…and she WILL be mine”. So out he came with his best face on and tried to impress me.

Suddenly, in a panic, I stood up. The turkey paused for a moment, let out a weird yelp and then a cluck. He jumped two feet in the air, spun around and crashed back into the bushes. I’m sure he was just as shocked about the whole situation as I was. The love of his life, the most beautiful hen he had ever set eyes on, was not actually a hen, but an awkward field biologist lurking in the grass. After that incident, I started wearing bright colours in the field, and now I never stay in the same spot for too long. I wouldn’t want to break another turkey’s heart.