Reentry

I recently returned from my winter fieldwork stint. More than a month spent in a remote location without access to electronic fetters-- cell phones, computers, television, internet. Gorgeous, ice-covered landscapes unencumbered by the presence of man. Heavy, regular snowfall. And, on rare nights, brilliant glimpses of the star-studded Milky Way, singing out from an inky sky far from the pollution of electric lights.

I always feel my best while doing fieldwork. I get plenty of exercise every day, I eat better (or at least more regularly), and I stay far away from my obsession with the trappings of modern society.

For these reasons, among others, I always find it difficult to come out of the field and back into the 'real world.' There is always a period of readjustment, which varies in length and intensity depending on the amount of time I've spent in the field and the differences between the environment I'm leaving and the place to which I'm returning.

This winter's reentry phase falls in the middle of the spectrum-- not the worst I've ever felt, but certainly not the easiest transition I've ever made. I miss the snow, the quiet solitude, my fellow fieldworkers, the work itself. I miss being in an environment where my love of science and intentions for graduate school are both respected and shared. I miss being someplace where my senses are assaulted with fresh air, the crisp wind, and the soft, muted colors reflected by blankets of snow, as opposed to blaring advertisements for Christmas sales and car insurance endlessly parroted across every form of media, every day.

I do not miss being cold all the time. I do not miss having to drive an hour or more for groceries, for rotten produce and cheap cheese and stale bread. And I certainly don't miss taking my chances with hazardous road conditions in areas where any sudden braking is instantly equated with sliding off the road and a subsequent long, cold wait for a tow truck (er... not that this ever happened to me, exactly, while I was there).

Now I just have to try to readjust to barn work and tutoring, to sunny, warm weather, to traffic and billboards and commercials and grocery stores and crowds of people.

And to the internet. That, at least, hasn't been difficult.

Au Revior

Alrighty, then. I'm off to the field for my first winter field work! My access to computers (and the internet) will be severely limited for the next six weeks, so I won't be able to update until I return, sometime near Christmas.

I hope to have the time and energy to keep a field journal to chronicle my experiences, but if I am able to do so, and if I choose to post it online, it will likely be on another, non-pseudonymous blog. When I do return, though, I promise to do a recap of here of my experiences as best I can!

I hope you all enjoy the remainder of November and December. Wish me luck, and I'll "see" you all at Christmas!

Countdown

My departure date for my upcoming field job is rapidly approaching. In just a few short days, I'll be on my way toward winter fieldwork, and away from the real world. This will be some of the most intensive fieldwork I've ever done. I'm both excited and nervous. It's a fantastic opportunity, and I think it will also be an interesting test of both my mental and physical fortitude.

I have just about everything on my "to do" list completed, save for officially submitting my applications and stocking up on food. I want to wait as long as possible before I pay application fees and venture past the point of no return, as I'm still waiting to hear back on the status of the manuscript I submitted at the end of August. It's currently in review, but I'm holding out hope that I'll hear some sort of positive response that I can slap on my CV and into my essays before I hit the 'submit' buttons online.

For the most part, I feel prepared. But I am worried about leaving the boys for such a long period of time. Were they in good health, this wouldn't be much of a problem. The person who offered to watch them is very responsible and caring. But all three boys have chronic, long-term Mycoplasma pulmonis, and lately Rizzo's infection has been acting up, to the point that his breathing is audible-- an awful, stuffy, coffee-percolator-type noise that makes me feel like he can't be getting a lot of oxygen, even if he doesn't seem particularly bothered by it.

With my remaining time at home quickly dwindling, I've become increasingly nervous over the last few days about the three of them. I would hate for something to happen while I'm gone, not only for their sake, but for the sake of their caretaker. Not to mention the fact that it would be rough for me to know something had happened and not be able to do anything to help, and to wonder if things may have been different had I been around.

I've been desperately searching the internet these last few days to see if there's something else I can do to help ease their congestion-- anything from switching up their antibiotics to trying homeopathic remedies for respiratory illnesses. I plan on calling their vet first-thing Monday morning as a last-ditch effort to get something effective in place before I have to take off, but in the scope of things there's no way for me to know if it will work, and it will be impossible for me to monitor their health while in the field.

I know I'll worry less once I get there and get started working, and I know that their caretaker will do the best she can, but right now it's really hard to think about leaving them.

So Little Time

With the start date for my surprise field job rapidly approaching, I've realized just how many things I have to take care of before leaving. In addition to the obvious tasks (collecting the appropriate gear, making travel plans, packing, etc.) I also have eight graduate school applications and two fellowship applications to complete. And I'm running out of days!

Not only was the field job I accepted unexpected, it was last-minute fill for the project. The work starts the beginning of November. Understandably, just over a week ago I thought I had more than five weeks left to revise and refine my application for the NSF GRFP, and almost seven weeks before the earliest grad school application deadlines. Now I'm going to be in the field-- and away from computer and internet access-- for the critical weeks leading up to application deadlines, and the deadlines themselves.

Luckily, I made a lot of progress on my proposed research for the NSF GRF after my trip to visit graduate schools at the end of September. But I hadn't written my personal statement or research background for the NSF. Additionally, after critically evaluating my essays from last year's applications, I decided to completely rework my statement of purpose. That, added to the fact that my statement of purpose must be specifically tailored to each school to which I'm applying, means a ridiculous amount of work in a very short amount of time.

I've been trying to schedule tasks out in advance, to try and keep myself on track and ensure that I get everything completed on time, but I'm already starting to get worn down, and I've lost motivation. I'm taking a few hours off this evening to relax and try to re-set my mindset. I'm the type of person who needs to be ahead of the game-- I don't like feeling rushed, and I'm starting to worry that the lack of preparation time might leave my essays a little less polished than I need them to be.

Opportunity

I held off on moving into an apartment of my own for a long time. My reasoning was simple-- were I offered a field job, I'd have to break the lease of an apartment to accept a position, and breaking a lease is anything but easy. Or cheap.

Once I'd finally made the decision to stick around in My Home Town for another year, and had secured (more or less) a reliable source of income, I made the move. I like the apartment a lot, and I'd forgotten how much I like living on my own. Except I'm not great at feeding myself. I'd forgotten about that, too.

Anyway, not three days after I moved in, I was offered a job on a field crew. Ha! Figures, doesn't it?

I accepted the job right away, though. In fact, I'd say someone would have to be crazy- certifiably insane- to turn this one down. It's what I've been waiting for since last spring. If I held out on applying to any potential organizations, or turned down any offers in the past, or was wary about accepting work for one reason or another, it was all because this job was out there, and I hadn't gotten it yet. If I were an excitable person, I might very well wet myself over this one. It's really that incredible.

Luckily, I will a.) not have to break my lease, as the position is only for 5 weeks, and b.) have enough saved that I should be able to front the expenses of being gone for a month, even without substantial pay.

I will miss the boys a lot... five weeks may be nothing to me, but it's a lot in rat-time. I've found someone to watch them, and hopefully the time apart won't be too traumatic for them. Or me. Ultimately, though, I think just about any sacrifice on my end will be worth it. This fieldwork is going to be incredible, and I'm literally shocked that I was offered a position.

I know I haven't been updating with any regularity lately, but chances are I won't be able to update at all while in the field. So in a few weeks, you might not hear from me again until Christmastime. I'll be too busy doing awesome field research!

Transient Theory

Sometime later on, in my not-so-distant future life, there's a good chance I'll be traveling a great deal-- visiting far-flung regions of the globe doing research, meeting with colleagues stationed across the U.S., flying to meetings and conferences and planning sessions and hearings. There isn't a good way for me to prepare for this. I don't have the money to make a habit of vacations to the next state over, let alone elsewhere in the U.S., my job doesn't require much travel beyond the next county, and the trip I took to visit graduate schools last month may very well be the last trip I'll make anywhere for a long while yet.

So how do I get ready for all that moving around? Simple, I suppose, though convoluted. I move around.

I assure you, my frequent moves are far from intentional. I don't enjoy moving at all, and if I could avoid it I certainly wouldn't do it more than once a year. I don't mind being in a new location, getting used to new places and people-- that's all exciting and new and adventurous, in a way. It's all the crap that comes with me that's bothersome, and the mere thought of dragging boxes of stuff and furniture up staircases and maneuvering through doorways and tight corners just weighs on me.

I wish I could be the kind of person that didn't need anything materialistic. But I'm not. I really like sleeping in a bed, and damned if I don't enjoy a couch and a good movie once in a while. And a microwave.

This weekend, I will make my fifth move in less than a year. This will be a new record for me. Previously, the record was three. With my job somewhat secure, I decided that if I was going to stick around town for a while, it would be nice to do it in the comfort and solitude of my own place. I received a great deal of encouragement when I advanced this proposition, so I did some house hunting and chose something reasonable that, though not without flaws, seemed least likely to evoke feelings of terror and/or disgust in those that chance by for a visit.

I'm really looking forward to living on my own again, and when all's said and done I'm sure the packing, lugging, loading, unloading, lugging, and unpacking will all be worth it. It seems like a quiet neighborhood with quiet neighbors, and if I'm really lucky, it will be the last place I live before I move to go to graduate school.

The Campaign Trail

Sorry it's been so long since I've updated. I was gone all of last week and jumped straight back in to work this week while simultaneously trying to ride a wave of motivation towards writing application essays-- somewhat successfully. When I returned to work on Monday, Joe, my BBF (best barn friend) asked if I'd been accepted anywhere (being both wonderfully supportive and woefully uninformed about the whole process). I told him that, no, my visits didn't guarantee acceptance, I was just going to schmooze a little and make myself known. "So you were campaigning, then?"

Yeah. That sounds about right.

For the last few months I've been sending out letters introducing myself and declaring my intentions. I've talked with people on the phone and had lengthy email sessions with several individuals. I've traversed across the country to meet with influential people face-to-face, to shake hands and show my winning smile and share my ideas for the future, all in the hope of garnering enough support to get my name on the ballot and collecting enough votes to win that elusive, illustrious position.

At least I don't have to worry about smear campaigns (er...recommendation writers, am I right?) or making those bloody TV adverts defacing my competitors with ridiculously out-of-context quotes and statistics gleaned from obscure sources.

I left early in the morning two weeks ago and began my journey to visit graduates schools. It's not the first time I've traveled alone, but it was the lengthiest trip I've ever made solo, and certainly included the largest number of destinations.

I started at a school I was a little unsure about, meeting with a professor whose research interests aren't quite in line with my own. Why did I even bother, you ask? Another professor at the school interests me a great deal, but was in the field when I visited. I figured if I made a good impression on the less interesting prof, he might pass the word along to the other when he returns. And besides, it won't hurt to tell the interesting individual that I was keen enough on the school to make a trip out to visit before applying.

I was surprised, however, at how much I liked the community. The campus wasn't anything special-- it was more or less like every other university campus out there. But the town itself was really neat, and had quite a few perks I'd never see in My Home Town. Most of the people I met were really friendly and genuinely seemed to love living there, and that was invaluable information, because the school is in a location I might not have been keen on considering before I visited.

The second campus I visited was that of my dream school, the school I'd most likely choose to attend if accepted several places. I've heard and read nothing but good things about the adviser and his students, and of the schools I feel I have a decent shot at, his research interests me the most. I was very nervous to meet this individual, but my interactions with him went very smoothly and for the most part I feel like I made a solid impression. If it's possible, I'm even more infatuated now with his lab and the program than I was before.

There were just two things about my visit that were disappointing. One, I really disliked the town. I was surprised, because most people I talked to raved about it, so perhaps there was something I wasn't seeing, or maybe it takes some getting used to. But it didn't feel right to me. Maybe it was the size of the city, or the people, or the noise, but I didn't immediately feel comfortable there. I loved the campus, however, and I suppose most of my time would likely be spent there anyway. It's just something I'll have to consider if I'm lucky enough to get in.

That's the second thing-- acceptance rates for this particular program are extremely low, and each professor usually takes only a single student each year. Throughout the course of my meeting with the adviser, I could tell he was being as circumspect as possible with regards to my questions about the selection process. I know he receives upwards of fifty applications a year, and many people visit his lab before applying. He also told me that the criteria he uses to select individuals for his lab change every year based on a number of indeterminable factors-- the progress of his current students, the mesh of research ideas in his lab, current lab dynamics, and his own shifting research interests-- none of which are things I can account for in my application. I suppose I'll just have to give it a shot and hope for the best.

I visited the third school opportunistically. Originally, it wasn't a school I'd strongly considered, but I received email responses from two professors in the department just before finalizing my travel plans, and figured out that, with its relative proximity to school no. 2, I wouldn't have much trouble working in a visit. I wrote both professors back and told them I'd be in the area, and was lucky enough to schedule a meeting with one of the two... only to visit the campus and find the professor absent.

This was the largest setback of my entire trip, but one I understand. I showed up at the adviser's office in time for our meeting, only to find the door locked. Assuming he was running late, I waited around a while and tried again. When he still hadn't arrived, I wandered down the hall of the building until I found someone working in their office with the door open, and asked where I might find the professor. "Oh, he's not here right now. We received an email from him late last night. He had a family emergency and had to fly home unexpectedly. Did you have a meeting with him? I'm sorry." Ah well.

I thanked the person and left, disappointed but sympathetic. I sent the professor an email that afternoon telling him how I'd been to campus for our meeting and found him absent, learning that he'd be called away by an emergency. I told him I hoped it wasn't anything too serious, and reiterated my interest in the program and his lab. I haven't heard back from him, but if my message goes unanswered I'll send him another letter in a few weeks. He likely forgot entirely that he was ever supposed to have met me in the first place, but hopefully at some point he realizes it and is still willing to consider my application.

The last campus I visited was a toss-up. Before visiting, I liked the professor and the location, but wasn't sure about the program or the school. Post-visit, those things remain true. The program is split between social science and ecology. It requires a large number of prerequisites that many people coming from science backgrounds won't have, like economics, sociology, and political science. Deficiencies in these areas have to be remedied in the first two years, which would result in a lot of additional coursework for me. The school itself has mixed reputations, some programs outstanding, others terrible. The campus is unique, and the town is in a great location with a lot of opportunities for outdoor recreation.

What I really liked about the last school I visited, though, were the people. I met with two of the professor's three current graduate students, sat in on a paper discussion with most of the people in the department present, and had a fairly casual, lengthy conversation with the adviser. His grad students were welcoming, friendly, and extremely helpful, and had mostly positive feelings about the lab. The adviser was laid-back and seemed genuinely interested in my ideas for potential PhD theses. When I left campus I felt good about having been there-- of the four schools I visited I think meeting the people at the last school was probably the most helpful, and I'm cautiously optimistic now about my chances for admission there. If I were accepted to more than one school, I'd have to think hard about the program requirements before accepting, but I certainly wouldn't have trouble attending if it was my only choice.

I returned home late last Sunday and didn't even have time to unpack before returning to work Monday. Going back to work was hard-- I'd just spent time tantalizingly close to the environment in which I want to be (where I would be right now, were it not for last year's failures), only return to the tedious, more or less menial barn work I'll be faced with for at least another three months, and knowing full well that I won't get out of it until next August at the earliest, and that's only if this round of applications have a significantly better outcome than the last.

Nonetheless, I found my brief interaction with the grad school world to be a strong motivator, and set out this week to work on my research proposal for the NSF GRFP. I was finally able to assimilate my ideas and complete a rough draft of my proposal. I'm hoping to send it off to several people for critique, including a couple potential advisers. I'm going to try and wring out every last drop of motivation that I can, and work on admissions essays next week. If I can manage it, I'd like to have all my applications submitted by the end of the first week in November, if not earlier. It's a lofty goal, but one I hope I can achieve.

Ready to Go

I think I'm ready for my trip to visit graduate schools. I leave tomorrow, and apart from packing (which I never do until last-minute, anyway) I'm set. I've spent the past few weeks finalizing my travel plans, and I've managed to set up several meetings. I'm really looking forward to seeing some of these campuses and meeting professors face-to-face. Hopefully I'll be able to impress some of them. I've printed out several of each professor's most recent publications to read on my way to each city. That way I can be as informed and enthusiastic as possible about the current research in their labs, and hopefully be able to tailor a few rough PhD thesis ideas to fit well within the lab's specific areas of study.

In addition, I've also set up meetings with grad students working in the labs that interest me. A professor may think he/she is easily accessible, but his/her students may think otherwise. Every professor is likely to think that their lab is a good one, but the students will have a perspective closer to what your own might be, and they're really the best source of information concerning lab (and even departmental) dynamics. They'll likely be more willing to share what it's really like on the 'inside'-- who gets along, who doesn't, who's difficult, how accommodating certain professors are, what teaching loads are like for TAs, how much assistance you're likely to get choosing a thesis topic and pursuing research funds, etc. It should be interesting to see if and why students like their schools, departments, advisers, and cohorts.

The trip should make for an interesting week, and I'm definitely ready for a break from work. Luckily, the last school I'm visiting isn't far from where a friend of mine lives, and I'll be able to make the last couple days of my trip into a mini vacation of sorts.

Crisis... Averted?

I mentioned a few weeks ago that I'd suddenly been informed that I was going to lose my job at the barn. The announcement really came as a shock to me, and I've spent the ensuing time trying to dig up a promising employment opportunity that pays more than minimum wage. I'd managed to secure myself an interview with a local non-profit environmental group, and was hoping that, even though the pay wasn't great, the job would provide me with good experience and solid networking opportunities while keeping me employed through the end of next summer (when I'll hopefully definitely be going off to grad school somewhere).

Then, just as suddenly as they'd announced the need to let me go, they announced their intentions to keep me on. Er... what?

One day at the end of last week, Debbie approached me about tutoring Trina next semester in some classes she's planning on taking at a community college. Tutoring Trina is something I've done for years now, helping her work her way through various science courses in high school. It can be incredibly frustrating, but it pays well.

Although Debbie has sworn that she wants Trina to be completely independent in college, evidently she's decided that community college isn't quite the same, and that Trina needs a full-time tutor next semester to help her complete her assignments, study, and generally stay on-track. She asked me to fill this position.

My answer? "No."

Debbie was extremely confused when I told her no, having the impression that I just love tutoring Trina and I have a special gift for getting through to her and helping her understand difficult subjects. I told her that when I had to quit working in the barn in October, I was going to find a full-time job somewhere and work through to next July or August, and that there was no way I was going to work for a few months and quit the job just to come back and work for her in January. Her next suggestion was that I not get another job, and just wait around between October and January for her to employ me again (did I mention she's crazy? Yes?).

Finally, when I pointed out to her that it really wasn't fair to expect me to try and support myself, unemployed, for a few months just so I'd be available to her next semester, she conceded that the only way she'd have me as a tutor for Trina is if I continued to work for her until that point. So just as suddenly as I lost my job, I got it back.

Part of me really wanted to tell her off, not accept her offer of a tutoring job, and go and find myself a real job in the real world and be done with her insane little universe. But there's something to be said for job security, and the idea that my job is likely safe now through May or June is a strong draw in a downed economy.

Even if there is a possibility that she'll change her mind. Again.

Submitted

Earlier this week my co-author and I finally submitted an article (based on my senior thesis research) for publication. The editing process has been both long and painful, not because my thesis needed a great deal of work to be reformatted for publication, but because my co-author, Walt (my thesis adviser at CLAS) is just about the worst type of person for getting things done. I never would have finished my thesis were it not for my academic adviser, Alan, and an extra-large helping of independence in my genetic makeup.

Unfortunately, submitting the paper to a peer-reviewed journal was not something I could do without him, so I had to grind my teeth and, over the last couple months, email him mercilessly to coax him into completing his part of the process. I had my initial revisions finished and on his desk a week after I graduated in May of 2009, so it's taken 15 (!) months for him to get his stuff together. He openly admitted to me a few weeks ago that he sees little incentive to publish now that he has tenure, even though he understands how important it is to individuals (like myself) who are just starting out.

This has been a particularly trying process since the beginning of the summer, because: 1) I talked with several graduates from this years' class who had work In Press (already accepted for publication), or, at the very least, in review, and 2) I know exactly how important a publication on my record is going to be for graduate school admissions this year. In fact, having some of my work published is the one thing most often stressed by potential advisers with whom I've been in contact. No one, thus far, has said I need additional research experience or fieldwork, but they've all said that a publication in the works would go a long way toward making me an irresistible candidate for admissions.

Nonetheless, the paper has finally been submitted. Now I just have to hope that it goes to review! I feel like the odds of the paper going through the review process and being accepted for publication before I send in my graduate school applications this fall are against me.  I'm just going to hope for the best (and speedy reviewers), and keep my fingers crossed that even if I don't manage to have In Press on my CV by the time application deadlines roll round, professors will still look more favorably on something in review than something in preparation, or nothing at all.

Things I'd rather not live without

Karina at Aspiring Ecologist is hosting August's Scientiae, a monthly blog carnival dedicated to stories from women in science, technology, and math. Karina's chosen theme for this month is "school supplies"-- stuff we feel is indispensable for the success of our various projects.

Technically, I'm not a student right now, and I'm not currently working in the field or on any specific project. But I'm not far removed from fieldwork, and I still enjoying spending time romping around outdoors, even if I'm not working on research.

Most of my "must have" supplies are derived from the Ten Essentials, a list of ten items generally recommended as necessities for traveling in the backcountry. If you ever work in the field (or do any sorts of recreational activities outdoors) then these ten things should always be in your pack, even for short day hikes. I'll admit I do take some liberties with the list (e.g. I won't take a map for someplace I've been tens of times) but I typically carry everything along. And, of course, I've tailored it to suit my personal style!

1. Map- I prefer self-made maps using a GIS program, like ESRI's ArcGIS. My favorite maps are satellite photos with overlays of important features like roads. Satellite photo-based maps are particularly useful in the field, because oftentimes you can see trails or other geographic features on a photo that would be difficult to find on the ground.
2. Compass- I always carry a compass. It's important not to keep a compass someplace it will get tossed around a lot, or anywhere near electronic equipment-- otherwise it might become uncalibrated. 
3. Sunglasses and sunscreen- What? You want to burn your retinas? Or get melanoma? I never go anywhere without sunglasses. Even if it's overcast.
4. Extra clothing- Unless I know I'm going to be somewhere far from easily accessible roads or local communities, I often won't pack more than a rain jacket and/or hooded sweatshirt. The longer the trip, or the farther from civilization, the more extra clothing I'll carry. I almost always carry a pair of gaiters in my field pack, though. Dead useful for a whole host of situations-- everything from snow to mud to prickly, evil shrubs.
5. Headlamp/flashlight- Er... I don't really carry my headlamp with me all the time. I should.
6. First-aid supplies- I think I have two little first-aid kits in my field pack right now. Adhesive bandages are a necessity.
7. Firestarter- I've never carried a firestarter.
8. Matches- If they're not waterproof, they're not worth having.
9. Knife- I prefer a multitool. Right now I carry a Leatherman Wave. I never go anywhere in the field without a pair of pliers and a knife, and this little piece of engineering has a crapload of other built-in gadgets, too, like a nail file, saw, and both Phillips- and flat-head screw-driving bits. The last thing I used it for? Pulling a frayed shoelace tip (sans aglet) through an eyelet in my trail-running shoes. I never could have done it without those pliers on-hand. You might be surprised how useful these things actually are.
10. Extra Food- Mmmm... trail snacks. I love food, and I always carry a little something extra in my pack, even if I don't plan on eating it. One of my favorite field staples are Primal Strips, a meatless, vegan jerky (I'm vegetarian) that pack easily and have a long shelf-life. They have good texture and provide a lot of protein and a nice dose of salt. My favorite flavors are Hickory Smoked and Texas BBQ, but the Teriyaki and Mesquite Lime are pretty good, too.

That may be all that's recommended on the list of Ten Essentials, but I have a few to add of my own. I rarely go anywhere without...

1. Duct tape- For all the jokes surrounding its innumerable uses, this stuff really has, well... innumerable uses. 
2. Flagging- I'm talking about plastic or fibrous flagging, the kind about an inch in width that comes in a roll. If you need to a) mark a location visually, b) if you find yourself in a tricky, heavily vegetated area in which you don't want to get turned around, or c) if you need to return to a spot for something later on, brightly-colored flagging (neon pink has always worked well for me) tied to a tree branch or shrub is simple and highly effective.
3. Something to write on, and with- I prefer fine-tipped Sharpies and Rite in the Rain notebooks, even if they are a little pricey.
4. GPS- Even though people have been trudging around the wilderness for centuries without technology, I'm really enamored by today's GPS units. They're unbeatable for everything from marking study sites and sampling locations to finding your way around unmarked dirt roads and two-tracks in rural Wyoming. I would have literally been incapable of finishing my workload with the BLM last summer were it not for a trusty Trimble Juno SB.

FMyLife

From my experience, one should always be most aware of impending bad news when things seem to be going smoothest. It's one of those laws of inaccurate perception-- Murphy's law, or the first corollary to Sod's law, or the unspeakable law (techincally, I think in this case it's a combination of the latter two).

See, I was doing just fine and dandy at work on the ranch, making enough money to support myself with just a tiny bit extra to sock away every month, enjoying my new horse-related hobbies, and having enough free time after work to pursue graduate adviser connections, trip planning, and literature review for fellowship applications and research proposals. And then, WHAM!, out of nowhere, "We're going to be making some changes around the barn, and we're going to need to let you go."

What?

Seriously?

Suddenly, inexplicably, my steady, dependable job on the ranch is gone, leaving me with just over four weeks to try and dig up a full-time employment opportunity elsewhere. Admittedly, this terrifies me, as I've been trying (without success) to get an ecology or environmental education-related field job since last November, and I know a couple other people who've been without work for nine months or more now, applying for tens of jobs a week in everything from stocking to retail to answering phones.

And, to add insult to injury, one of my friends at the barn overheard Debbie talking on the phone about me to Marlene, saying something along the lines of, "I don't understand why she just doesn't go to a local school, since it's obvious she's not good enough to get in anywhere else." This really shouldn't bother me much, and to be honest it's more irksome than anything, and I find myself laughing about it (albeit bitterly). It's just frustrating to realize how little the people around me understand about the difficulties of getting into graduate school, the time-intensive application process, and how "didn't get in" is far from synonymous with "can't. "

I was really upset yesterday when I got the news, and I'm still not very happy about it. But I'm trying to view this more as an opportunity to get away from narrow-minded individuals with more money than sense, as opposed to the loss of an entertaining, often fun job with the added benefit of working outside and with animals.

Still... what am I going to do now?

Improving my chances

I've spent the past few months enjoying a weird sort of summer, stuck somewhere between the real world and waiting for my real life to begin. But even as I've done my best to focus on the moment at hand, my ultimate goal has lingered, never very far from my mind. Now, as the 2011 application season approaches, it's finally time for me to start taking steps to help ensure that this time round won't end up like the last.

This includes several things-- frantically editing and putting as much pressure as possible on my undergraduate adviser (and co-author) to publish the results of my senior thesis; reading and brainstorming to come up with (and eventually write-up) a research proposal for another shot at The NSF GRFP; researching other potential forms of funding, such as EPA STAR and IGERT fellowships; trying to find additional prospective advisers; and, last but not least, following up on advice (to increase my chances) that I received from professors whose labs I applied to last year.

Although I chose not to email professors and ask upfront, "Why wasn't I accepted?", I did email several professors at the beginning of the summer to let them know about my continued interest in their labs and my intent to reapply this fall. Most wrote back, and a couple of them offered suggestions about reapplying. I also spoke with several professors at ASM about the application process, and all their suggestions were more or less the same-- if at all possible, visit campuses and meet with prospective advisers in person.

None of the professors I applied to work with said anything about my credentials. No one suggested I get additional research experience, improve my test scores, or get that paper published. But every single one of them encouraged me to visit their labs sometime in the fall. So that's what I plan on doing.

In truth, I've known this was good advice from the start. My undergraduate advisers all strongly suggested I do so, and most of the literature I've read about applying to grad school in the sciences highly recommends visiting campuses before applying. Last year, because of my work with the BLM, my finances, and the sheer distance of Newcastle to any discernible form of long-distance transportation, I was unable to make any headway on meeting potential advisers. This year however, my job at the ranch allows me enough flexibility to take some time to go campus hopping.

For the last couple weeks, I've been trying to plan out a visit to as many campuses as possible in the shortest amount of time. Although my work schedule is flexible, I'll still be taking time off work-- not making money while simultaneously spending it on things like travel costs and food. I've worked it out now to where I think I can visit four campuses (and, should everything work out, five to eight advisers) in seven days. This is turning out to be somewhat of a logistical nightmare, as I'm planning on relying solely on public transportation to get around, and planning things like shuttles, bus rides, and trams in advance isn't nearly as easy as it seems.

My trip is planned for the end of September, and it's officially in the works now, as I purchased plane tickets online last night. Visiting only four campuses is far from ideal. If I had the time and the money, I'd likely add another five or six schools to my list, but for right now this is the best I can do. I can only hope now that a.) I actually will get to meet with the professors and b.) the time, effort, and money I put into this trip won't go to waste, and I'll make enough good impressions to have some of these advisers go to bat for me when the time comes for admissions decisions to be made.

Round Two

And so it begins. Again.

The 2011-2012 application season is here. "Now wait," you might be thinking. "Applications won't even be accepted by most schools until September, at the earliest! What do you mean the application season is here?"

Ah, but you're forgetting, aren't you? Applying to graduate school in the sciences isn't quite like the process for other fields. I have to find an adviser willing to take me on as a student before I even think about applying to a school. This is a tedious process, and one I'm not enjoying any more this year than I did last year.

Last year I contacted a total of 35 individuals via email, expressing interest in their research and inquiring whether they were in a position to accept new graduate students.  Of those, I received positive responses from roughly 10 people.  These professors were suitably pleased with my research experiences and academic background, had or expected to receive funding for upcoming projects, and were interested in taking on a new student.  I continued to correspond with each of these ten individuals on and off throughout autumn.  When it came time for me to apply to schools proper, I selected the most promising of those ten people, and applied to the institutions at which they work, for a total (ultimately) of 7 applications.

You see, several of those initial responses turned out to have come from people who, after continued correspondence, seemed less than an ideal match over time. The more I communicated with those three particular individuals, the more I realized that our research interests didn't particularly overlap as well as I'd imagined, or that our personalities didn't mesh well and would likely lead to problems over time.

Regardless, I applied to 7 schools. And was summarily rejected from each.

So now the process begins anew. I would love for the process to be as easy as re-contacting those 35 individuals from last year and asking, again, if they're in a position to accept students. But it's not quite that simple. Some of these individuals I've contacted again (6). Some I haven't, because of some slight shifting in my research interests and intended foci. In these cases, my research interests and those of my first-round contacts no longer overlap (12).

Of the ten individuals I corresponded with in a positive fashion last year: The three I decided not to pursue in applications were already crossed off my list (15). One of the seven I applied to work with never communicated with me again, despite repeated efforts. He's nixed, too (16). One is no longer accepting new students (17). One I met in person at the ASM conference and found out was a total asshat (18). One works at a school which has, I've decided, a more evolutionary-based focus (as opposed to an applied ecological focus) than I'd like (19). Three I've kept in contact with and will re-apply to work with this year (22).

The others? Of my 35 original, first-round contacts, six never responded to my inquiries, despite several well-spaced, polite, repeated requests (28). Three will not accept students without a master's degree, and although I appreciate the benefits of getting an MSc first, I'd really like to go straight to PhD (31). Three were at or nearing retirement (34), and one had recently moved from a domestic institution to a small, obscure school in the far reaches of a foreign country (35).

So that leaves, in total, 9 individuals I can contact again about graduate school opportunities, which isn't anywhere near enough. I've already heard back from four that aren't accepting new students. That leaves most of my available free time to scouring the internet, reading recent research papers and digging through departmental websites, trying to find and make additional contacts with potential advisers.

It's a pain, and I really wish I'd open up my inbox one of these days to bright shafts of lights and angel choirs to find a message saying, "Yes, I'll absolutely take you on as a student next year. You're perfect for my lab!" instead of the all-too-brief and somewhat depressing, "not enough funding", "not accepting students", "going on sabbatical", or "Thanks for your interest, but..." phrases that typically catch my eye.

Hopefully, in the end, this whole process will be worth the effort, and I'll end up with a wonderful, interactive, and supportive graduate adviser. 

A Second Hit

Early in June I wrote about my indecision concerning a unique internship opportunity that had presented itself. The position sounded incredible, and involved tracking and handling some pretty cool wild predators. But it the end I couldn't justify the expense I would have incurred moving to the location and supporting myself, unpaid, for six months.

It's been nearly two months since then, and I've just now received another potential job opportunity. I had a phone interview this afternoon regarding a job for which I applied in mid-June. The position begins at the end of August and runs through the early summer next year. So far it seems as if the job has just about everything I need-- a lot of field experience, the possibility to learn some new field techniques, work with species that don't completely bore me, and money. Yes, the position is paid. Not a lot of money, but housing is provided, and between provided housing/utilities and a monthly stipend, I can make do.

I also made it a point during my interview to ask some additional, very-important-to-me-but-potentially-off-putting-to-the-interviewers questions concerning time off and pets in provided housing. First, I've made the decision that the single best way for me to get accepted to grad school next year is to really make sure I'm on potential advisers' radars. And the only single, surefire way to do so is to visit schools and meet professors in person. So sometime this fall I'm going to make a trip to visit as many schools on my list as I can possibly afford. The interviewers' response? We can probably work something out.

Good.

Now, for question number two: pets in provided housing. I always feel weird telling people I have pet rats. It creeps a lot of people out. Most people don't realize what fantastic pets they make, and a lot of people have squeamish, giant, slimy, sewer monster images pop into their heads when they hear the word 'rat.' But for me, the rats are almost a deal-breaker. They bring me a lot of happiness, and I would feel terrible having to re-home them at this point. For them and whoever ended up having to care for them. And me. I'd feel bad for me, too, because I really love the little guys. The interviewers' response? We'd have to check with the property owner, but they'd probably be okay.

Also good.

What about the housing itself? A rented house in a very, very, very small town. I'm talking small. As in, "smaller than Newcastle, WY" small. But chances are I'd have my own bedroom, so that's good, because, honestly, I really dislike sharing.

The negative aspects? Well, aside from the tiny community, it seems there might be a hunting-friendly culture firmly in place, and I vehemently despise hunting. I'd also be doing some live-trapping to put VHF radio telemetry collars on study animals, and I was asked during my interview if I'd be willing to kill an animal should something go awry during capture. The thought literally makes me sick at my stomach, but I suppose I wouldn't have any other choice, would I? That bothered me, as did several questions posed about my attitudes towards hunting and whether or not I enjoyed hunting myself.

I gave honest answers to all their questions, so I suppose my opinions on hunting, if anything, may make the hiring personnel look less favorably upon my candidacy. They also posed a couple strange, "What would you do if..." scenarios to which I was unsure how to respond. One example was on the order of, "What would you do if you were working with another technician without a supervisor present and you disagreed on whether or not to perform a certain task?"

Er..... Okay. Um....? Yeah, I see how that could happen, but really? How do I answer that? "I punch the other technician in the face and do whatever I want." Or, perhaps, "We do whatever I say we should because I clearly would have better sense." Or maybe there were looking for, "We yell and scream at each other until one of us is driven to tears, relents to what the other says we should do, and then hug it out later on."

?????

Anyway, it was an interesting interview, and not entirely what I was expecting. I'm feeling a little ambivalent about the whole thing, but I suppose I should feel reassured by the fact that it's paid work and I'll likely get to bring the rats along. My biggest concerns now are, aside from the hunting, whether I could really do such intense, tedious fieldwork for an entire year without going crazy at the lack of variety, and the fact that the position is in Northeastern State.

Northeastern State, by the way, happens to be very, very far from here. As in days and days-worth of driving far from here. As in very expensive plane ticket far from here. As in, leave from here and probably not come back until Christmas unless I'm really lucky at Thanksgiving, far from here.

It's a little strange, because had I been accepted to graduate school, I'd likely have been getting ready to move somewhere very far from here, and not for a year, but for five or more, with similar stipulations about returning to visit home. But somehow this feels different. Perhaps because I didn't choose the location, and it's not ideal.

Or maybe I've just become too comfortable with my current state of affairs-- my living situation, the familiarity of my hometown and all the amenities it provides, my job on the ranch, the proximity of family and certain friends, the enjoyment of my new-found equestrian hobbies. Maybe I've become content enough with the here and now to make the thought of moving somewhere very far from here, to a location, job, and impending year filled with uncertainties and insecurity, seem a daunting task.

Hey, though, who knows? I might not even be offered the position. Regardless, though, I think I may just need to start mentally preparing myself for a radical change.

How they've grown

Any long-time follower of my blog (and I know, there are very few of you out there) will remember that towards the end of last summer I wrote frequently about my three little Masters of Mischief. Their appearances in my blog since August, however, have been few and far between. Not because they've become boring-- on the contrary, they try one new scheme or another just about every day. Rather, they've become less frustrating. All of the things that really worried me, bothered me about their early growth (particularly their socialization) gradually faded away.

It's been an entire year now since I brought the boys home, and although I doubt they'll ever be cuddle bugs or be immediately comfortable around strangers, they've grown into the handsome bucks I'd always hoped they'd be. Apart from having chronic Mycoplasma pulmonis, a legacy of their pet store upbringing and feeder genetics, they've more or less come into their own. They come when they're called, they allow me to handle them in any and every way, and even tolerate the occasional snuggle. In short, they've ceased to become a worry and have become just as much an integral part of my life as the girls that came before them.

Archer is my little mink-- crafty, quick, and easily offended. He squeaks. A lot. He squeaks when he doesn't want to be touched, when I remove him from something he finds particularly interesting, when someone tries to steal his food, when one of his brothers looks at him the wrong way. Of the brothers, he is the least sociable. He picks fights and power grooms. A snuggle with him must be obtained through ambush, easiest when he's sleepy or has just finished eating a particularly tasty treat. That's a piece of dried papaya (AKA "rat crack") he's holding.

Bokeh is my squishy bear, the sweetheart of the bunch. He's mellow, easy-going, and always seems to be smiling. He's the biggest of the three, but like the gentle giant, he rarely fights. He's most content curled up somewhere soft and warm, sleeping. He never fails to come when called, and rarely causes trouble. He's also adorable.

Rizado is my little right-hand man. He's always curious about what I'm up to, and has taken to stretching out next to me in the evenings for lengthy stroking sessions. He's the most cuddly of the three, and tolerates handling best. His brothers pick on him a lot, which may have contributed to his primary talent: He's an escape artist-- a tiny, cunning ninja. He's foiled just about every one of my attempts to keep him contained. It started with him pushing the food bowls out of the cage, popping the wire latches, and has progressed from there. He has a 3'4" vertical and can climb just about anything. 

There really isn't any way for me to determine their age. I imagine they were somewhere between eight and ten weeks old when I got them, which would make them somewhere around a year and a quarter now. They're at or nearing middle-age! The worst part about having rats is their short life span. Luckily, there are plenty of best parts to make it all worth it.

Jax Z. Wolf: Professional Barrel Racer

Okay, okay, okay... so I'm not really a professional, and I probably won't ever be. But MONEY-WINNING competitive barrel racer just doesn't have the same ring.

That's right! Last night, at a jackpot barrel race Belle and I went to, we placed high enough to win money! I had a decent (though far from perfect) run, and brought home a nifty little check. It was a lot of fun, and even if I never race again after this point in my life, I'll still be able to look back and say I used to win money "chasing cans." In my opinion, that's pretty cool.

Belle and I are still getting along, but my perception of her has slowly been changing, as a result of my ever-improving riding abilities. A month ago I would have given anything to be able to buy Belle off of Debbie and Trina. Now I'm starting to realize that it won't be too much longer before I "outgrow" her. In other words, my riding skills and drive will surpass her abilities. During my barrel runs, I'm already finding I'm wanting to go faster and harder than she can run, and some of the habits that make her a great horse for beginners are starting to frustrate me.

There are several better, faster horses on the ranch that I could potentially step-up to, but I'm not sure if Debbie (or, more likely, Trina) would allow me to use them. Perhaps in August, when their young friend Maya comes for the month and has to use Belle, they'll let me start running one of the better horses.

Until then, I suppose I'll just have to be content to rest on my laurels as an earning barrel racer. :)

The Unrelenting Quest

As you might have guessed, I decided not to take the unpaid internship I interviewed for a few weeks ago. After a lot of thought (although not nearly as much as I'd originally anticipated) it was clear that I just couldn't afford to be spending money instead of making it. An incredible experience? Probably. Worth the financial hardship? Unlikely. So for me, it's back to the job boards, to troll for just about anything that will a.) get me some good field experience, b.) increase my potential for graduate school, c.) pay money, and d.) hold my interest for more than three seconds. Or, you know, ideally, several months.

But it's getting harder. Now that we're well into summer in the northern hemisphere, most field projects are already underway, with field technicians having already been hired for the duration of studies. There are a few short-term projects (four to six weeks) looking for help, but for me, right now, it's not worth the effort moving somewhere to find myself jobless again in a month. Every week, one or two jobs looking to hire for the fall or winter pop up, but these are few and far between. I've gone from two or three job applications a day to, at most, one or two every week.

To be perfectly honest, apart from the fact that my current job has little to no relevance to my intended course of study (it'd be a bit of a stretch to link ranch labor to ecology), I'm happy where I'm at right now. I like working with the horses every day. I enjoy making little goals for myself, and seeing my riding and training abilities improve. I like playing, too-- taking Belle to barrel races and gymkhanas, or going out on day-long trail rides. It's not something I think I'd want to do forever (perhaps as a hobby, but not a job), but for right now, I'm not going to be fussed if I have to keep doing it for a while. 

Really the only thing that concerns me is the upcoming application season. Will potential graduate advisers frown on the dearth of fieldwork showing up on my CV over the past few months? Will a presentation at a national meeting and (hopefully) a publication in the works be enough to convince them that I'm serious about a PhD program, or do I really need another stint in the field to help secure the deal?

Sometimes, when I'm scrubbing the toilet in the barn or scraping horse poop off the floor, I think to myself, Gee... this is what my bachelor's degree is worth. But other times, going that bit farther into the realm of grad school seems like a monumental effort. Contact advisers, get good GRE scores, start making a name for yourself, apply to school, get rejected, ask questions, re-write application essays, present at a national meeting, try to get a publication, contact professors again, visit schools, apply again, and on, and on, and on.

I really do want to get my PhD. The sciences, and the types of projects I might work on for my dissertation, really excite me. I enjoy fieldwork, and I miss going to school. I want to work in conservation, and try to do what I can to help protect the few remaining vestiges of wilderness and wildlife the planet still has. But sometimes, thinking about applying to grad school again in the fall, and (assuming I'm accepted this time round) the five to seven years of hard work that will follow, really just makes me want to chuck the whole idea and go in for something simpler. Take out a loan, buy a little land, a horse, and a couple hundred goats, and start my own invasive weed removal business. Herd my goats out to other peoples' properties as an eco-friendly way to get rid of noxious and nonnative plant species. Maybe train and sell herding dogs as a sideline business. Simple, effective, profitable, and enjoyable, right?

Not a PhD, no grandiose visions of making a difference, of helping save the world, but some days it almost seems like it'd be worth the trade-off.

Tips for Conference Virgins

Fresh from my first big, national meeting (the American Society of Mammalogist's meeting), I decided to make a list of things it would have helped me to know going in, in the hopes that someone might chance across this later and be saved some trouble (or at least get a better idea about what science conferences are like).

1. Bring a friend: Meetings are full of people. Lots and lots of people. A lot of these people know each other, but don't know you. Especially if you're a student-- chances are, no one will have heard of you. Ever. You're sure to have a much better time if you go along with someone else. You'll automatically have someone to eat meals with, go to sessions with, and to join you at the evening social gatherings. If you need to, you'll be able to split up to pursue your own interests. If not, you'll have a fallback to ensure you have a good time. If you go with a friend, you're guaranteed a reliable roommate, and you and your friend(s) can encourage one another to network or go up to someone to make a cold introduction. If you go with an adviser, you're likely guaranteed a conference veteran, and he/she will undoubtedly be able to introduce you to some potentially useful contacts, as well as offer insider's tips about research, technical sessions, and good conference-type things of which you should take advantage.
2. Shop around: There are a lot of organizations out there that hold annual meetings/conferences. Make sure you select a conference that best suits your personal interests or, if you're presenting, one that includes your research topic. After selecting an organization, search around a bit for the best deal on accommodations. Most meetings are held on university campuses, and thus will have dorm rooms available at a lower cost than hotels. Don't rule out hotels, though-- check on travel sites like Travelocity or Expedia. Oftentimes they'll have great deals on unbooked rooms for the nights you'll be staying. I met an individual at the ASM 2010 meeting who'd managed to book a suite in a Ramada for $29.99/night, cheaper even than staying in the University of Wyoming's dorms. These kinds of deals might not pop up all the time, but it's worth checking into.
3. Be prepared to eat. A lot: If you've booked a room at the local university's dorms, chances are you'll be offered (or required, in some cases) to also pay for a meal plan, where you're allowed three meals per day at the school's dining hall. If this isn't a required option, consider not purchasing a meal plan. At ASM, there was a TON of food available several times a day. Two or three refreshment breaks every day complete with fruit, cookies, donuts, scones, etc. as well as coffee, tea, and juice; evening social gatherings and poster sessions with fruit, veggies and dip, cheese and crackers, hors-d'oeuvres, and cake; a student social with pizza. If you're staying at a hotel that offers complimentary breakfast, it might be most cost-effective to skip the meal plan and eat as much as you can off the refreshments, then fill in the gaps if you need to.
4. Recall your early college days: Especially if you're staying in the dorms. Come prepared to share a room with someone (if you're lucky, a friend), share a bathroom (a couple narrow showers, toilets, and a sink) with a hallway full of people, and live in a multistory building where you have little privacy, the room is never the right temperature, the beds are really uncomfortable, and chances are someone, somewhere will be making a lot of noise.
5. Attend scheduled social events: They schedule these for a reason. People like to meet up with old friends, but it's also a good place to meet someone new. Most professors come to these events with the understanding that they're likely to be approached by students or people who are interested in their research. Most are more than willing to chat with you about various subjects, be it their research, their department, their school, applying to grad school, or someone they've worked with in the past. If nothing else, there is usually free food and a cash bar.
6. Attend unscheduled or impromptu social events: People are typically most relaxed at unscheduled events. But that doesn't mean they're going to be any less willing to meet you or talk with you.  If you meet someone you're really interested in working with, consider asking if they have the time and would be willing to meet with you somewhere for coffee, lunch, dinner, or a drink. It will be much easier to get to know someone outside the structured chaos of the meeting, and there will be much less chance that you'll be interrupted by someone else looking to speak with your new acquaintance. If you find out about gatherings going on after the day's events, consider going. It will be another chance to network. And if nothing else, there are sure to be other people hanging out at a local bar or restaurant in the evenings. Don't be afraid to order a drink and strike up a conversation (if the other person has had a drink... or two, or three... even better-- just so long as they haven't had too many to forget who you are by the next morning).
7. Talk to people: I'll be the first to admit that this can be extremely difficult. Especially if you're the sort that has trouble socializing in the first place, even the thought of walking up cold to someone and introducing yourself can be damned-near terrifying. Keep in mind, however, that the people at these meetings expect it, even welcome it in some cases. If you know something about their research beforehand or have read some of their papers, this is a surefire conversation starter, and probably the easiest way to break the ice with someone. Walk up and say, "Hi, my name is... I read your paper/I was interested in your work on ___________, and I was wondering if I could ask a few questions?" and you're almost sure to get someone's complete and undivided attention. Discuss their research and let the conversation segue naturally into another topic. People love to talk about themselves and about their research. If you seem knowledgeable about their work, they'll likely want to ask questions about you, your interests, and why you're attending the conference. It seems hard, but once you get going with someone with research as a starting topic, you'll almost always be able to turn the conversation round to whatever it is you really wanted to talk about.
8. Go to poster sessions: This is a no-brainer. People here expect strangers to come up to them and ask them questions. Ask a question or two about the poster, then feel free to ask whatever you want! This isn't just likely, it's the norm. It's not just students that do poster presentations, either. A lot of professors and industry professionals do, too. Many people prefer poster presentations over oral presentations for the increased potential for making contacts and the possibility of attracting people with a greater variety of interests. Posters are also often used to showcase preliminary results of an experiment in its infancy. I found attending poster sessions the single easiest and most effective way to meet people, and a great way to meet people with similar research interests. If you search out posters on research topics that interest you, you've already gone a long way towards making good graduate adviser or networking contacts. If you're both interested in the research at hand, chances are you might be of some use to one another in some way.
9. Ask questions: The easiest way to meet someone new at a meeting is to ask a question. Especially if you're asking a question in reference to their current research, or about a topic on which they're presenting. People come prepared to field questions about their research, and its much easier to let a conversation slide from questions about research to questions about other things than to try and ask a potentially forthright question ("Are you accepting grad students?") up front.
10. Present: If you've done research, submit an abstract to do a presentation of your own at the meeting. Remember that abstract submission happens well in advance of the actual meeting. Most large conferences have submission deadlines in February or March for meetings occurring in July or August. Doing a presentation, oral or poster, will benefit you in more ways than one. First, it'll add a tasty little line to your CV-- potential graduate advisers like seeing that you've presented a national meeting, as it shows you've not only done research, but you've wanted to inform others about the research as well, an invaluable trait for a grad student to possess. Second, you'll have the opportunity to meet and talk to people that have similar research interests. Your presentation will draw onlookers who have a natural interest in your topic, and a lot of those people will likely ask questions-- about the study, about your methods, your results, or where you're planning on taking the study next. It's a great way to network, especially if you plan on continuing your research in some form or another in grad school. The people that talk to you about your work could prove to be valuable contacts for advising, funding, troubleshooting, etc. in the future. Third, presenting can be fun. It gives you the chance to brag a bit in an acceptable way. If you've invested a great deal of time and energy into a study, there's no better way to show it that than through the enthusiasm of a well-constructed presentation, and others will see that. If your study and presentation are thorough, you'll likely receive a good deal of positive feedback, and who doesn't enjoy a pat on the back for a job well-done?

Lastly, going hand-in-hand with items 1. - 10. on the list, always be on the lookout for a good opportunity. Every person you meet could provide some service to you in the future, or vice versa. Science doesn't happen in a vacuum, and the more contacts you have, the better you'll do. There's really no telling who you'll run into or what may come of it, but I've heard stories of meetings facilitating everything from problem-solving difficult experimental design to new adviser/student pairings to...er.... new "couples."

Have fun!

Conference Time: ASM 2010 Days 4 & 5

The conference is officially over! And my immune system is officially shot-- after five days packed in small rooms with hundreds of people and the stress of trying to meet new people, my lymphocytes just couldn't take the pressure and I brought a nice head cold home with me. Thanks, ASM. I was hoping for a job offer or a grad adviser (or even better, a graduate assistantship) but instead, I got a cold.

Figures.

Really, though, the meeting went well. Monday at lunchtime I ran into one of the students I'd met at the first poster session on Saturday night, and I had lunch with her and a couple professors from a small university in the Southeast. She and I were both sniffing around for potential advisers at the conference, and were joking about just posting our CVs on the bulletin board with a big, scribbled heading advertising something like, "Looking for grad adviser. Slave-drivers and jerks need not apply. Please contact me to discuss research interests," or, perhaps, grabbing the mic at one of the social events and announcing to the crowd that you'd love to talk to anyone looking for grad students.

I seriously thought about doing the latter on several occasions. If only I'd been brash enough... *sigh*

Monday afternoon I suffered through some extremely slow technical sessions, then joined a group of about eighty people for the Alternative Dining Experience. More on the history of the ADE: The ADE (formally called the "anti-banquet," until the board members of ASM became concerned about potential negativity associated with the event) was founded in the early 70's by a few professors who noticed groups of students hanging around in a hotel lobby on the night of the banquet. Students couldn't afford the high price of tickets to attend the banquet, and many didn't own or want to rent the formal evening dresses or tuxedos required for the event. Since then they've held an "alternative" dinner every year, typically somewhere that serves pizza. They give out fake awards to complement the banquet's actual awards, and everyone chips in as much as they can to foot the bill.

The ADE was fun. I met a group of students going to school at Texas Tech and a few people working in the vertebrate zoology branches of various natural history museums, including one individual who is considered a leader in his field and is doing some really interesting (and depressing) research concerning biodiversity and global warming. Plus, the pizza was fantastic. That always helps.

Afterward I decided to go to the auction (held every year following the banquet) to watch crazy people bid hundreds of dollars for (typically) weird and ugly stuff worth less than an eighth of what they end up paying for it. This included $500 for an 8x10 photo I could have taken on accident on one of my worst days out, $50 for a plastic bag filled with beer bottle caps, and $75 for a small, squeaky dog toy shaped like a taco. Um... yeah. I suppose these people know what they're doing, though, and all the money goes into funds to be awarded for student research.

At the auction I was introduced to two people who work at Yet Another UC, one of my top-choice schools. I talked with them both about the school's various ecology-related programs, and they both had great things to say about the adviser I want to work with and his students. I found out that the adviser had selected both a master's and a PhD student this year, which really bummed me out (because I'd been hoping the reason I was rejected was because he didn't have any funding for students this year).

They both said it sounded like I'd been doing everything right (application-wise) and they both sounded surprised at, after hearing my credentials and the steps I'd taken towards applying this year, the fact that I'd been rejected across the board. Both encouraged me to visit campus, however, sometime between late August and early September, to try and gain that little extra bit of notoriety for the coming application season, and they told me that if I did come they'd be happy to show me around. In the end, when I left off talking to them I felt like it was a huge shame that our research interests were so dissimilar. Both seemed like they would make fantastic advisers, and were really nice people.

Tuesday morning I got up early and had breakfast with a student I met at the auction. Her adviser had introduced us, noticing that, later in the evening, we were both sitting alone. We had similar interests, and my undergraduate research and her master's research dealt with similar taxa, so we got on well. We went to the morning technical sessions together, and we both left the meeting just before lunch to travel home. I would have loved to have stayed for the afternoon sessions and the keynote speaker (who was going to talk about prairie dogs), but I had to work early Wednesday morning and had to make my travel arrangements for Tuesday afternoon.

All in all, if things had gone ideally I'd have come back with a list of contacts for potential field jobs, graduate advisers, and a name or two for people with grant money just come in looking for students to start a master's or PhD program in the fall. Of course, none of that happened. I really didn't manage to meet anyone who is doing the type of research in which I'm really interested and was also looking for graduate students. And I didn't meet anyone or hear about anyone scouting for field assistants. But I did get the opportunity to showcase my research and discuss it with other, working scientists. I met some neat students from universities across the country. I met professors working at some of the schools in which I have the highest interest. And I listened to some presentations that really excited me, and started me thinking about potential research/dissertation topics.

I'd say that ASM was a good "first" national conference to attend. Most of the people I met were very friendly, and from what I saw at the technical and poster sessions, no one was too aggressive with their questioning (i.e. attacking another person's work or commenting on the validity of their methods) without just cause. I think if I were to have the money to go to a conference again, I'd likely choose ESA or SCB, though, as they seem to draw broader audiences and those students and professors working at top-tier schools. I suppose I'll just have to try and make it to one of the bigger conferences next year, though, to compare!

Conference Time: ASM 2010 Day 3

Yesterday was awesome.

Literally. I had a really, really good day. I got up a little later than I normally would in the morning and waited for my roommate to get ready, then had breakfast with her and her two friends. The three of them, all master's students working under the same adviser at a small college in the Midwest, had driven the lengthy distance to Laramie to attend the conference, and although they were close friends they had no qualms letting me temporarily join their group. It was nice to finally eat with someone!

After breakfast I attended the morning plenary sessions, a group of presentations about stable isotope analyses and their applications to mammalogical studies. It seems to be a useful, interesting technique and one that can be utilized, in certain situations, non-invasively. A lot of the technical stuff was a little beyond me, but it's nothing a little research/reading won't be able to fix.

After the plenary sessions there was an ASM member's meeting. I skipped this, having little interest, and instead retreated back to the dorms for a couple hours of chill time. Not only was I tired, I needed a chance to review my material before my presentation.

I met up with my roommate and her friends again at lunch (yay!) and then had my presentation early yesterday afternoon. Giving the presentation was a lot of fun-- one of the most entertaining things I've done here so far. I had the opportunity to talk to a lot of people, and my research was well-received. It's great to get to discuss something in which I've invested so much with such a wide variety of people. Most of the people that came to my presentation were, of course, interested in the subject matter, but a few that I talked to were just curious, which was nice. Unfortunately, my current research interests deviate a fair bit from the topic of my undergraduate research, so I wasn't able to talk "potential for future study" with anyone I would have been really interested in working with.

I attended a few additional presentations in the afternoon, and then my roommate and I, as well as her friends, went to the catered picnic held at the Wyoming Territorial Prison (Laramie's only tourist attraction). The place had been kept open late for private, self-guided tours for ASM members, so after eating we bummed around the old prison and the other historical buildings on site, including a broom-making factory, an old schoolhouse, homesteader's lodgings, and a barn. It was pretty neat, but it didn't take a great deal of time to do the tour, so we found ourselves leaving the prison and returning to town around 8:00 PM... just a little too early to check in for the night.

Instead, we all went across the street from the dorms to Laramie's local college bar, The Library, got a table, and ordered some drinks. Well, my roommate and one of her friends ordered drinks, and I and the other friend ordered soda, because, try as I might, I've never been able to stomach the bitter taste of beer. I was challenged to drink a pitcher of Diet Pepsi instead, a feat which I performed admirably. We had a lot of fun just sitting around and talking, and before too long the place was packed with ASM members. We watched a little of the World Cup match between Serbia and Ghana and discussed our research, adventures we've had in the field, and the places we've worked and/or visited.

Later on in the evening my group introduced me to a really nice professor from a school in the West, a guy who's evidently good friends with their adviser at their school. He seemed cool and chatted with us for quite a while. He doesn't teach at a school I have any interest in attending, and, although his research interests are similar to mine, his study system doesn't appeal to me. But it was still nice to talk to him.

He recommended I look into doing a master's program first, stating that just the additional publications I'd have from doing so would aid me in netting a job after my graduate education is finished. He made some good points, but I'm not sure I'd do well giving up the autonomy of a PhD project in order to work on a master's. I was spoiled with my undergraduate research-- it was my project, my ideas, my construction, execution, analyses, etc. I don't want to work on someone else's research. I want to do my own.

Before we left, the professor asked me if I was attending the banquet or if I'd planned on the Alternative Dining Experience (ADE). When I told him I had no idea what he was talking about, my group laughed and explained to him I was a conference virgin. The banquet, a formal dining affair, complete with several courses, an auction to benefit a scholarship fund, more types of silverware than you can count, and the fanciest clothes you possess, is held on Monday nights of the conferences each year.

Evidently, however, a group of scientists "without the money or the proper attire to attend the banquet" started an underground movement of sorts several years ago, and founded the ADE. I was invited to the ADE, casual clothes only, to be held this year at a nearby pizza joint. The professor assured me that If I chose to come to the ADE instead of the formal banquet, I'd be hanging out with the nicest group of ASM members there are. I readily agreed to forgo the banquet, and was given instructions to the place.

I told the professor my reticence about meeting new people, and the fact that I'd come to the meeting alone, and he assured me that it would be far easier to talk to people at the pizza place (most of them slightly buzzed) than at the banquet. My roommate and her friends, too, said that if I stuck close to the professor during the evening he'd be able to introduce me to some people so that I didn't feel so awkward. I would have been fine hanging out with my group for the rest of the meeting, except for one problem-- my new conference friends left.

They buggered out early this morning to have a couple free days to make a visit to Yellowstone National Park before driving back home. I don't blame them in the least. I'd do the same thing if I were in their position! But that means that my little group has disbanded, and I'm (at least temporarily) without acquaintances again. There are plenty of presentations this afternoon, though, and a couple people I met at one of the poster sessions Saturday night that I can try and track down and get to know a little better. Hopefully this evening the ADE will turn out well for me.

If nothing else, though, I've been having a good time!

Conference Time: ASM 2010 Days 1 & 2

Although I have no statistical information regarding the current readership demographics of my blog, I'm planning on writing these entries concerning my attendance at the American Society of Mammalogist's 90th annual meeting in a format that will (hopefully) allow future readers, particularly those interested in mammals/ecology who have never experienced a large meeting before, a sort of "inside look" at what it's like to attend and present at a national conference. 

Phew!

That's pretty much all I have to say about the first two days of the conference, and the second day isn't even over yet! In some respects, I'm now glad that I'm at ASM instead of ESA, because if ASM is this big, I can't even begin to imagine how crazy and chaotic ESA will be!

I made it to the University of Wyoming campus late yesterday evening, registered, and checked into the dorms. I'd missed dinner, but there was a social gathering taking place in the student union building complete with veggies, crackers, and cheese, so I made do. At first I was completely overwhelmed. (To be perfectly honest, I'm still a little overwhelmed.) I found myself in a room packed with hundreds of people I didn't know.

And it turns out that ASM is a highly social event. A highly social, highly cliquey event. It seems as if every single person here knows every single other person, or at least knows someone who knows every single other person. Instead of people milling around and introducing themselves, there were tightly packed groups of obvious acquaintances, people catching up with old friends, groups of grad students from the same university sitting around tables talking. And then there's me, not knowing a soul and having no idea where to start.

If it had seemed like people were getting to know one another, as opposed to getting caught up on the latest gossip from some friend they hadn't seen in a few months, I'd have been much less reluctant to walk up to someone and ask to join in, or inquire about their studies. As it was, I couldn't see a good segue from, "How're your kids doing? Did that tendon heal up nicely?" to "Er... Excuse me? Hi, there. You have no idea who I am, but my name is Jax."

Oh well...

My strategy then shifted to me standing as awkwardly as possible against the wall of the room, making eye contact with everyone that walked past me. This eventually worked, as a guy finally walked past and made some comment about my eating alone. I introduced myself and we eventually got around to the topic of graduate adviser "fishing" and he started naming a bunch of people who he thought were really great advisers.

Unsurprisingly, a lot of them were professors I'd applied to work with earlier this year. When I finally admitted to the guy I'd been turned down at all of the schools to which I applied, including several he had named, he automatically assumed that 1.) I had a bad undergraduate background (poor GPA, irrelevant classes, no research experience, etc.) and 2.) my applications were flawed. That bothered me a lot, because no amount of explaining I did seemed to convince him otherwise-- that I had a really good undergraduate background and that there wasn't anything wrong with my applications, save for, perhaps, a lack of publishing experience.

I finally let the subject drop, but it really rubbed me the wrong way. He asked to whose labs I'd applied, and I listed all seven schools and their respective advisers. When I mentioned UC Somewhere Else and the adviser there, Dr. K, he said, "Oh, I know him. He's right over there." I asked him if he'd mind introducing me, and he agreed to do so. Thus, I found myself face-to-face with one of the advisers that had rejected me.

I had no intention of asking for justification as to why I wasn't accepted. I just wanted to meet him and talk to him a little, so that if I apply to his lab again in the fall he'll hopefully remember who I am. We chatted briefly, and when I told him I'd applied to his lab and been rejected this year, he said, surprised, "Oh, you did?"

"Yeah."

"Just to the school, or to my lab in particular?"

"I put your name down."

"Did you contact me by email before you applied?"

"Yes. We communicated via email for a few months. We sent several emails back and forth discussing your research on Cool Animals in Foreign Country, and how we are both interested in These Types of Questions."

"Huh. I never saw your application. How far did you get? I mean, when were you rejected?"

"Mid- to late-March."

"Well, you made it past the first couple cuts, anyway. But UC Somewhere Else is usually done admitting candidates by the last week in February. Anyway, I don't remember seeing your application. Sorry," he finished somewhat lamely.

I chatted with him for a few more minutes and took my leave. The social wasn't doing anything to alleviate my fears about meeting people at the conference. In less than an hour, I'd managed to meet two new people (good), one of which was convinced I'm a crappy student (bad), and the other I communicated with via email for months and yet, one way or another, had no idea I'd applied to his lab (really bad). One step forward, two steps back. It's things like that that make me feel like I'll never get into a PhD program.

I went to bed early, briefly meeting my roommate (who seemed like a cool person, although as of right now I've only talked to her for about fifteen minutes, total). This morning I attended a few really boring plenary addresses before the technical sessions began. The earlier technical sessions didn't do much for me, and despite really encouraging myself to try and sit with other people, I ended up eating lunch alone.

This afternoon was much better, though, and I really enjoyed some of the talks, and even got a few really promising ideas for possible future research topics. I also might try to talk to some of the presenters a little later, and ask some questions about their studies (an easy and effective ice-breaker). Later this evening is the first poster session, and I've gone through the list and highlighted quite a few neat-sounding presentations to visit. Maybe if I can meet some people this evening, in the context of discussing research during poster presentations, I'll find someone I can chat with later on during breaks and meals.

I'm already tired, and there are still three entire days left of this! Being in such large groups of people wears me out. Hopefully, though, I'll sleep well tonight!

Conference Time: ASM 2010 Pre-Trip

Tomorrow morning I leave for the American Society of Mammalogist's 90th annual meeting. All this week I've been preparing for my trip-- making sure my presentation is polished, gathering up every nice scrap of clothing I own (admittedly a pretty small pile, seeing as how my field seasons are spent in Carhartt's and t-shirts and my time on the ranch in jeans), and making sure I have print-outs of everything that might be important, including the schedule (I present on Sunday) and a University of Wyoming  campus map.

Earlier this week I met, for the first time in seven months, with my undergraduate thesis adviser, Walt. I'd emailed Walt a couple weeks ago and told him about my plans to present at ASM, and he decided, yesterday morning, that he wanted to make sure I was prepared... More than anything, I assume, because his name's on it, too. I went by his office for a few minutes after work, more to reassure him about my presentation than me. It wasn't a waste of time, though, because I got the opportunity to bug him about working on our manuscript (which has been sitting on his desk now for more than a year) in person!

Everything looks good presentation-wise and I'm ready to go. I don't get nervous at all about presenting or about public speaking in general. In fact, giving talks on scientific subjects is one of my strong suits, developed, perhaps, from years of tutoring. The hard part of the conference, for me, will be meeting people. I'm more than a little bit socially anxious. I find it extremely difficult to just walk up to someone and introduce myself. I'm that person at parties who stands in the corner and is visibly nervous, or the person who tails a friend around everywhere.

No, wait. Scratch that. I'm the person who avoids parties altogether.

Uh, yeah.... Awkward.

It'll be a little tough not knowing anyone at the conference, but I'm hoping that will help force me to try and make a few acquaintances. I also made the choice to stay in the on-campus dorm housing, with an assigned roommate, instead of reserving a hotel room. This way I won't be able to retreat too far away from the activities, and, if I'm really lucky, I'll have a friendly, outgoing roomie to help break the ice.

It's an irrational fear, and I realize that, it's just one I've never quite been able to overcome. I keep reminding myself, though, that I'll be in my natural element-- a scientific forum of sorts packed with other people a lot like myself. If nothing else, I should have more than a few things in common with just about everybody there. And really, that's what conferences are for, right? Meeting people, discussing research, and networking.

I don't know if I'll have time to post updates from the meeting itself, but if not, I'll be sure to write a full recap next week when I get back.

Funny enough, despite my concerns about five days of social overload, I realized this afternoon that the biggest worry I have about attending ASM is the fact that I'm going to miss a barrel race tomorrow night, and I won't get to ride Belle for five days. :)

Take it or Leave it

This afternoon I finally had what I've been anticipating for the last couple months-- a job interview. The hiring official for a position I applied for in early May emailed me last week, asking if I was still interested in the job and when she could contact me.

I was initially very excited. I've never interviewed for a position without being offered a job, and I'm perfectly qualified for the work. In fact, I even have experience beyond what they were requesting. Not to mention the fact that the job sounded amazing-- a six-month internship in a gorgeous part of the country tracking bobcats and mountain lion. Most of the position will involved radio telemetry of collared animals, scat surveys, and small mammal surveys, but the organization traps bobcats July through February, and mountain lions June through October, which means that part of the internship would involve trap monitoring, and, if a capture occurred, assistance anesthetizing, processing, and collaring the cats, a rare experience for anyone, let alone someone my age.

I was also really intrigued by the organization's study questions, and the motivation behind their data collection. The broad ecological theories behind their research overlaps a great deal with my personal research interests, and I know that I'd easily be able to justify hours spent in rough field conditions doing repetitive surveys if I could remind myself of the greater purpose behind the study.

So that's all well and good. The problem? The housing provided by the organization is dormitory-style, which means 1.) a bedroom shared with one or two other individuals, and 2.) no pets allowed. I'm a strongly introverted person, and I play best with others when given a decent chunk of time every day to myself. I also tend to function better when I have something small and furry on which to devote my attention. If I were to think, I'm mean really think about the potential experience gained during this type of internship versus the cost of sharing housing and leaving my rats to someone else for half a year, I might just decide that it would be worth it. But that's not the only thing making me think twice.

The internship is unpaid.

That, more than anything else, makes me wary about the thought of accepting the position. Half a year spent with no discernible income. Six months without adding to my savings account. Six months, instead, withdrawing from it to meet basic expenses-- food, gas, health insurance. My intentions for my time spent between undergraduate and grad school were to get as much good field experience as possible while saving up as much money as possible for the future, not to have to spend what I've already saved. I initially thought I could bypass this issue by getting a part-time job in the evenings or on weekends. But I was informed during the interview that it would be nearly impossible to do so, due to the long and unpredictable hours of the internship.

Now I'm torn. The study seems worthwhile, the location phenomenal, the opportunity to track and capture wild felids, fantastically awesome. But is it worth half a year sharing housing, trusting my rats to someone else, and taking a decent chunk of money out of savings?

What would you do?

My Kingdom for a Horse

The other day, while on a trail ride, Marlene and I began talking about my partnership with Belle, and we figured out that I need around $110,000 in order to afford to buy Belle from Debbie and be able to care for her properly for the rest of her life. I know what you're thinking-- that's the most outrageous sum you've ever seen.

Granted, the sum itself is far from a conservative estimate. The actual year-to-year cost of her ownership would likely run somewhere between $4,000 and $7,000, which includes funding for board, hay, grain, injections, supplements, regular shoeing, dentistry, tack, and incidental expenditures. The final number, the absolutely shocking figure passing the 100K mark, includes a sizable buffer for medical emergencies, and it also assumes that Belle, a 15 hand, 16 year-old quarter horse, will live for another fifteen years.

Take it month-to-month, or even year-to-year, and it seems more feasible. Roughly $400/month. The average person might be able to cut their cable budget and kick the Starbucks habit and be more than halfway there. Me? Might be a little more difficult. Right now I could probably afford it. But hypothetically, someday soon, I'll be living off a grad student's stipend, and that might be quite a bit more difficult.

Marlene told me today that Maya, an eleven-year-old family friend of Debbie and Trina's, will be coming for a month-long visit this August. She usually comes three or four times a year for a few weeks at a time, and does a lot of riding. She usually rides Cash, but for some reason, the last time she was here, over spring break, she and Cash had a falling out, and Anya complained to Debbie that Cash just wasn't working well for her. Now Debbie is convinced that Belle can be calmed down to the point where she'll be safe for Maya to ride. Unless Marlene and I can convince Trina to let Maya use her horse, Turbo, for eventing while she's here, then I'll have to stop running Belle in early July, and I might not get to ride her at all in August.