It's that time of the year again

Searching sandbars on the Missouri River in South Dakota

I am always taken a little by surprise this time of year.  Typically, Blacksburg's worst weather is just before Winter loosens its grips on southwest Virginia, breathing life into the saying "it's always darkest before the dawn."  This year, was no different, except we had to pry Jack Frost's fingers free, leaving me unsatisfactorily prepared to meet the spring and all that comes with it.  Since I head out to South Dakota each year around the first of April, relapsing late winter is a common occurrence–just as I acclimate to shorts and sandals, I pack parkas and knit-caps.

This year marks the 9th year of our demography study of Piping Plovers on the river.  Through droughts, 100-year floods, and droughts again, we have intensively monitored the responses of piping plovers, least terns, snowy plovers, and assorted other shorebirds to the myriad of natural, and some wholly unnatural, variations in the Missouri River.  (If you are particularly interested in the VT Shorebird Project, here's a link with more information: http://fishwild.vt.edu/vtshorebirds/index.html).  My springs are filled with the characteristic 'peep-lo' of piping plovers, and I am reminded of the comforting feeling that the birds are as good at keeping the date as any calendar printed.

Nuray releases a plover on Hilton Head Island, SC

Although I am involved with other species and projects, the plovers dominate my time and attention.  They are certainly charismatic little characters, but following the migratory pattern of a anxious little bird has both advantages and disadvantages.  The birds migrate for survival, to secure a safe and hospitable stretch of beach on which to endure winter. These refuges are often remote islands off the southeast Atlantic and the Gulf coasts–not bad places to be as long as the weather cooperates.

Migration isn't for the faint of heart though, either as a bird or as a person.  I've been migrating for a while now, first here for a few months, then another place for a few weeks–such is the life of a wildlife biologist, and to be frank, I can't imagine what else I'd like to do.  Perhaps you need to revel in being a little thin, that feeling of taut hunger, lean, spare, but prepared.  Build up your flight muscles, but don't carry any unnecessary weight as you fly.

The fleet at the dock in Oyster, VA

Tomorrow I leave for another week of riding with Bike the US for MS, re-enacting my 2010 debut by riding from Yorktown to Blacksburg, VA.  While I would love to stay longer, it's migration time after all.  I just left Virginia's eastern shore two days ago, across the Chesapeake Bay from Yorktown.  Might I recommend you visit if you ever have the chance.  It's remarkable how quickly the din of city life falls away as you take the bridge-tunnel (a feat of engineering worth seeing once in its own right) from the densest population center in Virginia (Virginia Beach, Norfolk, etc.) to potentially one of the least.  I'm not sure what i expected, but I was pleasantly surprised.  Granted, it helps that we were charged with collecting data on Red Knots using the Virginia barrier islands as a refueling location on their way north, which afforded us the opportunity to survey the largely deserted islands. For more info on the knots, click here.  The knots gather en masse here and elsewhere, having to thread the needle of arriving in the Arctic on time to breed.  And it is with the knots beginning their journey north to the tundra that I head again east, to the shores of Virginia with my bicycle.  Another year, the plovers peeping, the knots gathering, and me loading a bicycle onto a car for another migration.

Home

 I like to leave the baggage claim tag on my suitcase when I put it away.  By the time I grab it again, the intervening time has winnowed away the worst of your memories from before, and you just remember the really great moments.

Waiting

It's not fun.

Driving off the spleen

"Call me Ishmael. Some years ago -- never mind how long precisely -- having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world. It is a way I have of driving off the spleen, and regulating the circulation. Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people's hats off -- then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can. This is my substitute for pistol and ball. With a philosophical flourish Cato throws himself upon his sword; I quietly take to the ship. There is nothing surprising in this. If they but knew it, almost all men in their degree, some time or other, cherish very nearly the same feelings towards the ocean with me." – Heman Melville, Moby Dick




Years ago, I remember reading this passage, and to this day I knew where to find it when I was growing grim about the mouth.  Ishmael, heads to sea, I am not as specific about my escape, just that it happens.

Banding Least Tern Adults in South Dakota

I am sitting in an airport (yes, another airport), waiting for a delayed plane that will take me to Minneapolis via Chicago, and eventually one a 1000 mile bike ride through the Great Plains and to the edge of the Rockies.

Lunch at Voss'

It's been a long couple of weeks to be honest.  Emma and I drove out to South Dakota to deliver a truck, and to see how all of the operations were going out there.  In itself, this is an arduous journey, but as always, I like to go as over the top as I can. By the time Emma an I arrived back in Virginia, we were packing for a visit to CNY.
Mom and I left from Harrisonburg to visit with family and friends and to celebrate the graduation of my cousin Samantha.  I like visiting CNY because I can pick and choose my dates.  After years in VA, I am not prepared or even remotely interested in braving the cold and snow.  And if I am going to brave the cold, I think I may pick somewhere else.  As for late June and July, it's can be pretty hard to beat CNY's weather.

 

The View from My Grandparents' Grave Site

It's our custom to drive around while we visit to some of the foundational places in our lives to see if any changes have happened since our last visit.  The changes tend to be fairly drastic between my visits, which are fewer and farther between than my mother's.  That is the nature of change though – if you are there to watch it, it never seems as though much has changed.  Well, not until it has drastically changed.  If you don't watch it happen though, then even small changes are like slaps in the face.  I am happy to report though that all seems to be as it was, or at least close enough not to crowd out the nostalgia.

Now, before I start knocking hats off, I am headed west to ride for a few weeks.  Heading west to drive off my spleen.  I want to thank all of the folks that have supported the ride this year, and in years past.  It is greatly appreciated and I hope to make the most of this chance.  I hope to keep up with the blog again this year so stay tuned.