There comes a time in every young biologists’ life when the sheer exhaustion of carrying out a job, outweighs the occupational hazards of the job. What I mean by this is, the work itself can be so tiring, that getting eaten by a mountain lion doesn’t sound all that bad anymore.
Many times, fieldwork positions are asterisked with the hazards of the job. Things such as “venomous snake exposure”, or “must be willing to hike alone 10+ miles a day in winter conditions and avalanche terrain”, or maybe even “large predators like cougars, bears, and coyotes may be encountered while on foot”. Now add to this the fact that almost all wildlife positions are paid measly monthly stipends and offer no health insurance. Most people from the outside would be astounded, but THIS is the wildlife field.
Image by Tori Frailey – Black Bear Track
I had held many other seasonal environmental jobs before landing my first field position. Things such as nature centers and non-profits aimed at education and outreach. But once I was officially a “White-Tailed Deer Fawn Technician” I was ecstatic. Here I was. I was going to be DOING it. On the ground, getting dirty, wrestling deer every day. Visions of Steve Irwin danced through my head.
My position was with an ongoing, ten-year research study looking at white-tailed deer survival and population rates. Of course, a large part of deer survival can be attributed to the predators of the area. So, we were also conducting research on large predators such as– wolves, coyotes, bobcats, and black bears, oh my! My position was a three-month-long stint with my main responsibility being to catch fawns and radio-collar them. This was however scattered in between coyote howl surveys, trapping bears, snowshoe hare pellet counts (that’s poop), and learning truck/ATV maintenance.
The thing about the wildlife field is that oftentimes you see pictures of us with cute, little bear cubs in our coats, or a beautiful gray wolf getting measured and fitted properly for a radio collar. But you never see us when we are plucking 20+ ticks off of ourselves at a time. Or, with the poison ivy rashes that seem to permanently reside on our arms and legs.
We never tell you about the time that we had to hike 17 miles through dense understory brush while inhaling mosquitos, all to count some rabbit poop. But that’s because those moments with the cute, little bear cubs, or beautiful gray wolf, make even us forget.
My first day on the job I hiked over 11 miles in brand new boots (not recommended) and recorded vegetation types throughout our field study site. Basically, hiking to pre-plotted points and noting what my surroundings were (field, wetland, deciduous forest, etc.). Afterwards, my feet were raw and bloody and my mind was warped with doubt. Could I do this? Was this even what I wanted to do? And where were the deer?
Image by Tori Frailey – Snowshoe Hare Scat
To say I didn’t have these thoughts almost every day on the job would be a lie. But to say I didn’t also weirdly love these difficulties, would also be a lie. Fieldwork pushed me in ways I never knew possible. It also taught me that even with the solid background of a natural resources education and knowing the reality of wildlife dangers – when you are miles into the middle of the woods and you hear a stick snap, you still briefly consider that you might be the 1.25 unlucky individual that is fatally attacked by a black bear in North America annually.
Another misconception is that wildlife biologists are always hands-on with an animal. We rarely are and when we are, we minimize that time as much as possible. It is kind of ironic that in the work it takes to conserve a species to live and be seen by many future generations, we actually spend as little time as we can with it ourselves. Spending time hands-on with wildlife is a rare and very privileged opportunity. But one I will cherish until the day I die.
We actually spend a lot, if not most, of our time with people; landowners, farmers, professors, students, and the public. A lot of times the key to understanding wildlife populations and why they fluctuate in numbers is to take a really hard look at the communities or urbanized areas around them.
Image by Tori Frailey – White-Tailed Deer Fawn
And so, in reading this, I challenge you to do the opposite. Take a really hard look at the ecosystems and functioning natural habitats around you and ask, how you are affecting them? Negatively? Positively? Could you be doing more?
With a little information and introspection, we are all a biologist of sorts to our own backyard and community. Each of us can help to greatly influence the outcome of wildlife and the environment for generations to come.
I hope you join me on that mission.
