Welcome to Mars

I started writing when I started my PhD project. I had no intent on seeing this published until I was done my PhD, but others have convinced me that this super cool system (Apostlebirds) in the Outback (Fowlers Gap) should be shared with others, especially others that may not be so inclined to expose themselves continually to the hot, the dry, the fluctuating temperatures, the computer analyses, the degrees, the movement away from material luxury, etc, etc, that is part of the path towards becoming a wildlife biologist/ecologist who works in the field. But this is so worth it to me. 100 times over. I love this life, the birds, the challenge, the outdoors, and though I don't like to admit it- the computer stuff too, even the genetics (no thanks to undergrad genetics that SUCKED and was NOT taught in a welcoming manner), and thanks to people who actually show me what a powerful tool it can be.

So, some of my posts (like this one) is from my first field season (Aug-Dec 2010).

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Welcome to Mars

The first time I saw Fowlers Gap, I saw little green men with strange laser guns. Well, not literally, but I might as well have, as the land was barren and red, dusty and dry. Yet, I felt a strange sense of beauty as I watched the land pass from the Rover as we bumped along the dusty road. We pass a couple emus and they shy away as my heart jumps a notch towards excitement. The contrast of the bright blue sky against red soil is striking and the expanse of the heavens above is interrupted only by the circling of wedge tail eagles in quiet flight.

The chatter of my car mates becomes a background hum as I stare through the dust clouded backseat window. I stare off towards the horizon, far,far away. I can imagine myself riding an emu off into the never never lands. No, that is not a good image, actually. I can now see myself being unceremoniously dumped off the emus back, stepped on, pecked, pecked again on the face, oh, here comes the spit and away they go. Whoo! Not good. I get up and turn circles, and hey, what a surprise 360 degree circle and everything looks the same to me, except that small bush on the horizon.

I snap back to my reality and notice that the Rover has stopped and my advisor and his colleagues are pointing excitedly. I fall out of the car with binoculars and desperately try to see what they are looking at. “Yes yes, I see it”, I say as I focus my lenses at nothing, “beautiful, beautiful” and suddenly there she is, a wedgetail perched on a dead tree, serene as the queen of the bush. We all stand around examining the land with nodding heads. I, myself am nodding at rocks, rocks, rocks. I wonder what everyone else is nodding at. And hope it does not have something to do with planning my initiation into academia. Someone says “rather dusty”.

We jump back into the car, and to make up for the settling of dust, we leave a cloud of red behind us. We wind through a few small hills, rocks and more rocks. I can’t help but notice the number of dry stream beds we cross. Many are marked as “Flood plain” and come equipped with a 2 meter tall flood marker. I instantly think of a yellow picture with a stylized picture of waves and a man with one arm waving for help. If I had not already been familiar with flash floods I would have thought the Aussie government was playing a grand joke on me, for there is not a drop of water to be seen.

If I ever thought we had moved away from all form of water, I was wrong as we round the bend and lo and behold a lake. Or, at least a clustering of trees, trees, and bushes and I am told that this is “the Lake”. Later, in a scouting trip I discover that the lake is more of a pond which runs in fingerlets out along flood streams, and a haven for many species of birds, including some ducks and shorebirds.

You can imagine my surprise when I returned four months later to assist with a field course. The arid zone had bloomed and what was once red dirt was now covered with many shrubs, bushes and a plague of locusts. The birds were flying about eating their fill, and everywhere we stepped, we were greeted with a cloud of locusts fleeing are flattening foot.

My welcome to Fowlers Gap

Jan 2010- arid

Jan 2010- Mars Scape