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.

Off to the Races

The past couple weeks, my life at work has improved considerably. Trina, having finally finished with school for the year, no longer needs tutoring, and both she and Debbie have mellowed... somewhat. My barn to house work-time ratio has shifted from 40/60 or 50/50 to 90/10, and I'm all about barn time being favored. Temperatures here have begun soaring by early afternoon, so my schedule has shifted, too, and I'm working mornings now, coming in early to ride before it gets too hot. There's a lot more going on here in the mornings, so I don't sit around without something to do as often anymore. Overall, it seems as if time at work goes by faster. It's been great.

More time in the barn also means more time spent with Belle. Over the past couple months, my relationship with Belle has blossomed. Trina had been running poles on Belle competitively through November, but became frustrated with her and quit riding her when she couldn't run a clean pattern faster than 22 or 23 seconds. Belle is a fast horse, and she can run a fast, clean pattern, but it takes some work on the part of the rider to give her the appropriate cues, and for all her experience, giving horses appropriate cues just isn't something Trina can do. She'd rather change the horse than the way she rides. And, lo and behold, that's exactly what happened. Trina stopped riding Belle and began working with Greco, whom they later sold in exchange for Louis, the horse she's using in poles now.

So Belle, like many of Trina's horses, was shuffled off to the sidelines, to be ridden whenever possible after the in-use performance horses got a workout. I got on Belle for the first time in late December. At that time she was still running hot, partly because of Trina's inconsistencies in her riding style, and partly because every time Trina got on her, she'd been pushing Belle to go as fast as she could, all the time, with the aid of spurs and a short whip called an over and under.

The first time I worked with her, I'd only been riding for about two months, and both my butt and my psyche were still recovering from the incident with Halle. I wasn't ready to trust a horse again, especially a mare, and particularly not one as wild to "go" as Belle. To be perfectly honest, I'm not sure Belle was ready to trust another rider either, after months of mixed signals from Trina and being pushed to her limit without reprieve.

I kept riding her, though, out of necessity, a few times a week, although I limited myself to mostly long-trotting and slow loping circles mixed in with a little ground work. No running, no patterns, no tight turns.

In the interim, I was being invited to a host of gymkhanas and other western speed events, and making up a host of excuses as to why I couldn't attend. In truth, my confidence was shot. My first gymkhana didn't end with a feeling of fulfillment or success. When Cash and I competed, I'd only been riding for five days, my seat was far from secure, his gate issues frightened me, and I finished in the middle of a pack of mediocre novice riders. It wasn't much fun, and I decided I much preferred the mellow "training style" arena rides to the stress of even meant-for-fun competitions. This idea was solidified a few weeks later with the reality check I got working Halle in barrels.

But then, a couple of months ago, I began to have a change of heart. I started to realize several things. First, always doing slow training-based rides in the arena gets a little old. Second, competing looks like a lot of fun. Go to a western speed event and watch the people there, and they all look like they're enjoying themselves. It's hard to watch others running patterns and not want to join in. Third, I've been riding every weekday now for almost seven months, and I'm no longer a novice rider. And fourth, and perhaps most important, I began reminding myself that Belle is not Halle, and reminding Belle that I am not Trina.

And then, gradually, something began to shift with us. Maybe it was my growing confidence in my ability as a rider. Maybe it was Belle's months-long break from the pressures of constant competition and Trina's riding style. Maybe it was the growing consistency in both our lives, as I began riding her every day. Perhaps is was some combination of all three, but one day as I saddled Belle she looked me in the eye and I thought, seemingly out of nowhere, I love this horse.

I began to trust her. Slowly at first, but then more and more every day. I tested our bond in the arena and on the trail, doing a little jumping, asking her to stop on a dime from a fast lope, crossing water out on the trail, having her switch leads on my command. Eventually, I started working patterns on her, and found that she was much calmer and far more responsive to me than she had been in December. I started favoring her, and when Marlene and I went through our daily,

Me: "Who do you want me to ride?"

Marlene: "Who do you want to ride?"

conversation, instead of shrugging and saying, "whoever," I started volunteering, "Belle" every time, to the point where Marlene stopped asking and simply said, "Go ahead and ride Belle,  then you can work _________ and __________."

Early last week, after Trina finished school, Marlene decided to take a day trip to a nearby arena for concentrated pattern work. Although we have a sizable outdoor arena, we rarely work with a set of horses for an extended period of time on one thing at home. Visiting a different arena allowed us to do so without burning the horses out-- being away from home immediately put them in the mindset that we were there to work.

We set up barrels and did a bunch of slow exercises and groundwork, me on Belle, Marlene on Jet, Anya, another barn employee, on her horse Goliath, and Trina on Louis and Morgan. Then we each began making slow runs, with Marlene watching closely to offer corrections when necessary. I started taking Belle to the left-hand barrel first, and when Marlene asked me why, I explained to her that Belle was having trouble making the appropriate lead changes starting to the right.

"You know," she said, "It's much easier for her to change leads when she's running the pattern."

"Running?"

"Yeah. The faster she's going, the easier it is for her. She knows what to do, it's just hard for her to make the switch unless she's going at a good speed. If you let her run, she'll do a lot better."

I stared at Marlene for a while, then examined the ground, unsure of what to do. I knew she was encouraging me to run-- to actually race the pattern-- instead of using the slow lope I'd always taken before. My trust in Belle had grown tremendously... I knew she wouldn't let me down. Belle is the kind of horse that looks out for number one, and as long as you can stay on her back, you're not going to get hurt.

I was chewing on my lip when Anya said, "You need to trust her."

To which Marlene remarked, "No... I know you trust her. You just need to trust yourself."

So I did. I took a deep breath, lined Belle up, and gave her some rein, and ran barrels for the first time. And I mean flat-out ran.

It was basically one of the coolest things I've ever done. I literally couldn't stop grinning. I ran her another three times after that, and I was buzzing with excitement for the rest of the day. Not to mention the fact that I was pretty proud of myself.

The next day I overhead Marlene and Trina discussing an upcoming barrel race, and stepped in to listen to their conversation.

"It's this Friday, right?" said Trina.

"Yeah, Friday evening," replied Marlene.

"Are you going to go?" asked Trina.

"I don't know. I suppose we could, if you guys wanted to. Jax, would you be interested?" she inquired, turning to face me.

I thought about it for a minute, and surprised myself when I found that I no longer wanted to make any excuses. The thought of going to a competition, for the first time in months, didn't make me nervous. It sounded exciting.

So Friday evening after work we loaded up the trailer with the horses and went to the barrel race.

And Belle and I ran.

And it was the most fun I've had in a long, long time.

And I can't wait to do it again.