Despite the fact that only a few days have passed, it seems like a lot has happened. First, Dwayne reconsidered his awful request for an additional 30-60 goshawk survey points, and as a result, I am officially finished with my goshawk surveys! This turns out to be An Even Better Thing than I initially thought, because Monday morning while I was out surveying I slipped climbing down a canyon and dropped (and shattered) our GPS unit. I was very glad not to have fallen myself, but without the GPS it would be extremely difficult to call for goshawks with adequate accuracy.
Luckily, Dwayne was (at least outwardly) phlegmatic about the incident, chalked it up to the rigors of fieldwork, and ordered a replacement. In the interim, I'll be making-do with a smaller, less fancy, borrowed unit. I feel like I murdered a good friend. Not to mention the fact that I just knocked down Dwayne's yearly budget by around $700. At least I'm no longer going after goshawk, and won't be out traversing canyons for a while.
The final count? 100 surveys, and one (that's right... 1, single) goshawk. Dwayne was thrilled. Go figure.
The relief of having finished the surveys is huge. Now I can move on to checking raptor nests, collecting vegetation data in key sage-grouse habitat, surveying prairie dog colonies for several threatened bird species, and setting up our bat detectors across the field office.
This week is the last week of the Upton project. Last night our active bat surveys went off without a hitch, but around midnight it started pouring down rain and didn't stop. Middle school students aren't quite mature enough to handle a day out hiking in the rain, so the teachers decided to shift the schedule and visit museums in Hill City today, leaving the wildlife hike until tomorrow morning. No skin off my nose... I'll gain credibility for being flexible. I had plenty to entertain myself for the remainder of the day.
This afternoon I returned home from a night of camping far less tired than I have been in the previous two weeks. I've been working a more 'normal' schedule lately, and without goshawk surveys on top of camping and the wildlife hike, I not tired at all. Fantastic!
Capone pitched a fit as soon as he saw me pull up to the apartment. The evenings I camp he doesn't get his walk, and cries all the louder the following day. I put my camping stuff away quickly and got out the leash to take him along our normal stretch before he tore a hole in the siding of the apartment.
About halfway through our walk a little hound mix puppy ran up to us and then took off as soon as Capone started sniffing his direction. As the puppy tore off, a guy appeared from behind an unkempt pickup, took one look at Capone, and swooned. Most guys drool over Capone, his beefy build, his block head, and, perhaps, his 'intact' nature. The guy laughed at his puppy running from Capone, and introduced himself as "Steve." It's not unnatural for people to introduce themselves in Newcastle. Perhaps it's a small town thing.
Steve admired Capone and asked if he always pulled. I explained that he only pulled that hard when he was really interested in something (in this case, the puppy). He suggested I use the leash as a harness, and I told him that I'd tried that several times and found the slip-lead method to be most effective. Then Steve asked what I did in Newcastle, and where I was from. I assumed he was making polite conversation.
Oh how wrong I was.
(Please note: the following text should likely be rated PG-13).
He laughed when I told him I worked for the BLM, saying I had a "real job." He asked what I did for fun, and I told him I spent most of my free time in South Dakota. Then he asked if I was available for dating.
I almost choked.
Steve, a guy who must be in his late thirties, wearing a cutoff t-shirt, balding, with cigarette stains covering his teeth, and toting a dirty puppy and a border collie who has had puppies of her own at least once, asked me if I was available for dating. Perhaps on some level I should have been flattered, but I was mortified.
I didn't choke, but I did freeze, and wasn't quick enough on my feet to adequately convince him that he was sniffing up the wrong tree. I danced around an outright rejection, but he kept trying- hard. He pulled the "we already have something in common" card, pointing to the dogs. He noted that he lived in South Dakota, a place I'd already said I spend a lot of my free time. He asked me if I liked riding horses, and if I enjoyed dancing.
(I do enjoy riding horses. Very much in fact. No! Don't lead him on! No!)
I jumped on the suggestion of dancing.
"No, I don't dance."
"Really? Do you know how?"
"Nope."
"Well, do you want to learn?"
"No."
"No?"
"No. Not something I'm interested in."
"Really? You don't want to learn? It's fun."
"Seriously. No. It doesn't do anything for me."
At this point I stared slowly edging my way down the street, away from him, letting Capone pull to his heart's content.
"We should do something sometime. You need someone to hang out with?"
"Um... I have friends in Buffalo." (Not necessarily a lie.)
"Well we should get together sometime."
(Well, gosh, Steve, I might really like that, if you were fifteen or so years younger, didn't chain smoke, and were ANYTHING like me.)
"Okay, well... I think Capone and I need to finish our walk. He's going to pull my arm off." (Hahahahaha... oh god get me out of here!)
"Well, I'll be around here for the next few weeks. Keep me in mind!"
(No chance in hell, buddy.)
"Well, it was nice to meet you, Steve." (Not so much, really.)
"You're lookin' good, Jax."
(Oh jesus... don't think about what he really means, don't think about what he really means, don't think about what he really means...)
I led Capone down the street, thinking I'd avoided a near disaster, only to have my hackles raised in alarm a few minutes later when I smelled diesel and heard his F-350 pull up alongside me.
"Can I call you sometime?"
"What?" (WHAT?)
"Can I call you sometime?"
"Uh... I don't have a phone."
"Seriously? You don't have a phone?"
"No. I get by with my phone at the office." (Oh man. Oh hell. Why can't I just tell him he's creepy and I'm not interested!?)
"Do you want one? I have an extra one." At this point, he reached into his pocket; evidently, to grab his extra cell phone and give it to me.
Who ARE you? What kind of person carries around an extra phone and offers it up to a complete stranger? Are you desperate?
"Oh, no, that's okay. I don't really need one."
"Well, here, then. Let me give you my number!"
"Uh... Um... Er....Sure."
Steve then proceeded to tear the back off a pack of Marlboros, write down his number, and hand it to me through the window of his trash-ridden pickup. Perhaps my repulsion showed on my face, because he then said, "I need to clean up a bit. You know- work an' all that."
"Um yeah. Heheheh..."
Thankfully, a cement truck pulled up alongside him, he was forced to return to work, and I was able to make my escape (relatively) unscathed.
I have to wonder, though. How old did I look to him? Or did it even matter? Why couldn't I just tell him to look elsewhere? Why can't a cute, twenty-something, well-educated guy take some interest? Do they even exist in this part of the country? Or anywhere?
I'm sure Steve may be a perfectly nice guy, but I was glad I at least had the sense to tell him I didn't have a phone. His intentions may have been innocent. Perhaps he's just as lonely as I've been out here and is just looking for a friend... someone to spend time with.
Yeah.
Right.
Now I suppose Capone and I will have to find a different route to walk... at least for a while.
Note to self: invent fake boyfriend. Convince the creepy older guys that hit on you that you're in a serious relationship. His name is.... Matt. Or Andrew. Or Patrick. Or.... Jack. Name doesn't matter. Just remember the name and don't get mixed up under pressure. He lives in Colorado. Or California. Or Oregon. Or Canada. Let's go with California... more liberal. Lots of schools there. He's my age. Or a couple years older. Going to school, for a PhD, just like I'm planning on doing. Soon. It's hard to be away from him, but this gig is temporary. Yeah. We're serious. Too serious for me to be messing around with a random guy in Wyoming. Right? Right!?
Next time, I'll be more prepared.
I made it back to the apartment, shut and locked the door, and said hi to my real boyfriends. Or at least the only boyfriends I plan on having here, lest some sort of miracle occurs.
I've finally given them names. So have a good laugh over my misfortune, and then say hello to:
Archer
Bokeh
and Rizzo!
1 comment:
I came across your blog, and read this entire thing. What a story. You seem like an interesting person indeed. =-)
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