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. :)