Blow-dart target practice and Iguana baths!

Today seemed relatively calm when compared to other days. There were most definitely exciting moments, but they were lengthy and few in number.

We started the morning washing iguanas. To keep optimum health for those living in the Iguana Sanctuary, they must be bathed every so often. Iguanas can get ticks and mites just like other animals. On an iguana, the tick appears as a tiny red dot and the mites are tiny white bugs. Sometimes these guys are hard to spot, so we had to be very thorough. We started by catching all the iguanas. In a giant, screened room with various rafters and boards for the iguana’s climbing pleasure, on which many were perched, we found this task to be somewhat difficult. It was even more difficult, because Umberto, the Iguana caretaker, had gone up to the hotel to retrieve hot water for the baths. After retrieving as many as we could via poking with broom handles, climbing (in what we though was a precarious manner), and coaxing, we got a large amount of the animals into a tiny crate, all piled on top of one another like something out of Fear Factor.

The males did not like being in close proximity with other males. Tails were whipping aggressively, hisses could be heard, and we still had a few more to catch. When Umberto got back, he laughed at our inability to get the other guys. I said, “Surely there must be a trick you are not telling us,” to which he replied with frankness and a gentle skepticism, “No, you just…get them.” He then proceeded to monkey climb his way up the rafters about twenty or thirty feet and start plucking down iguanas from precarious heights. We all felt a little sheepish after that. The washing then began! Sticking our hand in that little box full of angry iguanas was the first challenge. Once we retrieved one, we placed it in a tub of warm water mixed with iodine. (The iodine disinfects the skin and scales). One person held the angry reptiles, while the other partner used a toothbrush to scrub thoroughly and look especially for ticks and mites to remove. Medication was applied to any external wounds, and they were released back into their rafters. Gomez left with the brown meds all over his face in such a way that it looked like he'd eaten a big Boston cream pie. No serious tail-whipping injuries were incurred, though a few people left bleeding from claw-digging.

We took the injured Iggie back to the clinic with us to check his wound situation. He had begun to show neurologic symptoms of ataxia, inability to right himself when flipped over, and what is known as ‘star-gazing,’ or an unnatural tilting upwards of the head. Likely, these symptoms were due to infection spreading from the leg wounds to his central nervous system. He was given injections of long-term antibiotics and pain medication, the wounds were cleaned thoroughly, and as x-rays determined no breaks, he was sent back to the sanctuary with a check-up visit scheduled for one week later.

As part of our lecture section today, we learned about capture and restraint of wild animals. Part of that lecture dealt with chemical immobilization. As practice in using such techniques, we got to have blow-dart target practice. A makeshift cat was drawn on a cardboard box by our instructor, and we began to joke about the native Belizean cardboard cat—rare, elusive, deformed in appearance, and not good for eating, though high in fiber.

First, we practiced charging darts. The darts using in blow-pipes and guns are filled on one end with medication, the other end with air to pressurize the dart, and have the needle covered with a plastic sleeve to hold the pressure in. As the needle hits the animal, the plastic sleeve slides down and the pressure from the air will rapidly squirt the medication into the subject. We used the long thin pipe (essentially a rifle barrel) with a mouth piece on one end to shoot darts at our cardboard cat. I found that it took a few tries to get a good shot, but eventually made a pretty nice one from about 30 yards.

We all really enjoyed ourselves, playing in the sunshine, testing our strengths, competing, and thoroughly injuring our ‘patient.’

After blow-darting, we came back inside to learn about pharmacology for a while. After the lecture, our TA happened to look outside where we had placed Ziggy (our acupuncture iguana patient) in a tub to sun bathe. Though his movement seems to improve, he still does not seem to have mobility of the hind legs at all when it comes to walking. He had gotten out of his Tupperware crate twice or three times before, but could never make it far. Apparently while we were chatting inside today, he had gone on a little Ziggy adventure…and was nowhere to be found. Immediately concerned, we students and our professor set out on a search for our patient. After about thirty minutes of spread searching efforts, myself being in a field in high grass beside a small creek, prodding the tall vegetation with a stick, a student found him in high grass about 100 feet from his tub. The big boy had really given us quite a scare, so we went inside relieved, and finished up the day with his regular treatments. 

Birding, Iguanas, and Mayan Ruins

DAY THREE:

I can scarcely believe so many good things were packed into one day. In a way, I wish every day was filled with such adventure and wonder. It would be tiring, however! I’m fairly spent at this current hour.

The morning started at 6am with bird-watching. In Belize, there are over 600 species of birds. We set out with a local expert to a place where 3 rivers meet in hope of spotting some aves.

The first animal we were excited to see, however, was not a bird. Swimming in the river, popping its head up every few feet was an otter, and we all gazed excitedly from the bank, watching it play. Shortly after, the bird sightings began. We covered about half of mile watching and searching for birds. After spending some time by the river, we crossed a rickety, wooden swinging bridge which made us feel like we were in Indiana Jones, and I nearly fell off trying to take over-river photographs while on such an unstable surface.

On the other side of the river, we saw 3 lovely horses grazing in a field. They were surely owned by someone, but as Belizeans do not use fencing for their animals, it could not be sure to whom they belonged. In a way, their timid manner made me feel that they were nearly wild horses. Of course, I became determined to pet one. I had seen a few other students making attempts, but had yet to see a success. After trying and failing about three times, I started a more cautious approach (everyone else was off by a fence watching a warbler at this time). I eased up to the horse, looking at him, allowing him to be nervous, and I gently held out my hand beneath his nose, until curiosity got the better of him and he had to smell it. When his smooth nostrils got just close enough to get a healthy whiff of me, I took a finger and gently stroked his muzzle. Success! I was very pleased!

We then crossed back over the bridge and headed down a dirt road, mostly in hopes of seeing a Toucan before departing. Unfortunately, we did not see a toucan in the wild, but we did see a most adorable and beautiful pygmy owl, not much bigger than a softball. We also saw an iguana about a hundred feet high up in a tree and about 4 feet in length. It was amazing! Twice we heard giant thuds, which turned out to be iguanas dropping from the trees when they wish to descend, because climbing down is too steep and difficult. Crazy!

For any of you interested in birds, here is a list of what we spotted today:

Little Blue Heron, Spotted sandpiper, Melodious singing blackbird, Baltimore Oriole, Amazon kingfisher, White-fronted parrot, Neotropic cormorant, Snow-billed egret, Duskycap flycatcher, Grey catbird, Great kiskadee, Tropical Kiwi, Parakeets, Golden-fronted woodpecker, Grayish saltator, Ruddy ground-dove, Boat-billed flycatcher, Grey-necked woodrail, Red-legged honeycreeper, and Pygmy owl.

Next, we went back to the clinic and took care of Iggie. I restrained him while another student removed some stitches from under his tail, and he dug his nails into my arms in a most human manner as the stitch was pulled out. I also got to help perform some physical therapy on him as well as acupressure, because his acupuncture treatments are finished. In essence, I gave an iguana a therapeutic massage today! It actually seemed to increase his mobility and help him.

After his care, we had lecture and discussion. Just a few interesting facts I learned about Belize include that 2 of the first 5 laws passed in this country after independence were for protection of the environment; 65-70% of the country is covered in natural, secondary forest; and it is estimated that over 1 million Mayans lived in Belize, and the place is littered with “Mayan trash,” also known as artifacts.

Our discussion about the role of veterinarians in re-introduction of species and in education was a most poignant one. I thoroughly enjoyed sitting around and approaching some difficult ethical questions from many angles and opinions, but with a unified theme that we should care for and protect what is living, beautiful, useful, and important here on earth. Two of the topics we touched on today were so very important that I feel I must mention them here:

           

1. Keeping wild animals as pets is never a good idea. One of the huge differences between a regular veterinarian and a wildlife veterinarian is interaction with patients. In some cases, particularly those of highly injured animals (such as Iggie), more contact is achieved than is strictly normal, but overall, a wildlife veterinarian seeks to have as little contact with the animal as possible. A wild animal is very much in danger when it loses a fear of humans, and our aim is not to make friends with these animals, but love them by letting them be what nature intended for them to be.

A particular story that came up in discussion was one of the professor. She was brought a howler monkey that had been a pet. For over a year, this monkey was unable to do anything but lie upon the ground, and occasionally drag itself a few inches with one arm. We saw pictures—every part of its body was misshapen. Arms, fingers, legs, and spine all bent in unnatural ways. All he could do in life was lie and be miserable. What caused such a condition, you may ask. The situation described was a case of malnutrition. This monkey had not received proper calcium or nutrients to keep his bones strong, and upon x-ray, tens of fractures were seen all over his body. The bones had broken simply because they were not strong enough to support weight. Once the bones had broken, they healed in unnatural ways. My comment in this type of situation is this: only specially trained people should ever care for wildlife. Even these people (rehabilitators and zoo employees) are still learning so much in the field of wildlife care. If those who have dedicated their life to this work are still learning, it would make sense that common citizens would have no means or full understanding of how to care for wild animals.

2. People will sometimes say to those in this business that we should just ‘let nature take its course,’ and ‘what is helping just one life going to do, when it will go back in the wild and die eventually anyway?’ My professor put it beautifully today when she spoke of her conviction in helping individuals. Consider a species where there are only a few hundred of the animals left in the wild. If a veterinarian can assess and help but 5 of these animals, that is already a great percentage! And indeed, what is a population composed of but individuals. We must what we can, and that involves taking enough tiny steps, hoping others will take many other tiny steps, and seeing that these can all lead to a great journey.

After lecture, we traveled to the Green Iguana project. The aim of this project is to breed iguanas, raise them in protected environment, and release them into the wild when they mature at around 2 years of age. Some older ones are kept on-site so they may be used for breeding purposes and so the social group won’t be too disrupted. In regard to the social group of the iguanas today, we met the king of the enclosure, Gomez.

 He is an orange color because males become bright during breeding season. The females are green and the juveniles are green. The males are highly territorial, and when any other male would approach Gomez, he would bob his head up and down, up and down, as if listening to some song with a strong bass beat. This behavior is a warning sign to others to stay away. In fact, an iguana that had received an injury (two arm cuts) from Gomez, is coming back to the clinic with us tomorrow for repair.

We observed many of the iguanas climbing to impressive heights and got to hold Gomez to study his anatomy and strength better.

Our tour guide was a vivacious, young, dark Belizean who kept referring to all manners of things as ‘little,’ in situations where the word seemed awkward and superfluous. It was endearing. One of my favorite quotes from him was a response to a student question. Someone asked how the iguanas breed. He replied, “Well, we try to be discreet to the public, but since you guys are going to be vets…well, it’s kinda like rape.” It was an entertaining time to say the least.

After we viewed the adult iguanas, we got to handle and see babies!!! The little group of juveniles was extrapolated from their tree by the guide and gingerly places all over our shoulders, arms, and heads! One of mine was pretty aggressive and took to whipping me with his little tail in the face every time I would move. A strong whip from an adult with those spiny scales can definitely do some damage. We will get to test our restraint abilities tomorrow as we go early to bathe all of the adult iguanas, an activity they apparently hate!

Finally, we went to a site of ancient Mayan ruins, called Cahal Pech. If anyone wants to brag about what they did for exercise today, I will gladly tell them I ran stairs on an ancient Mayan temple up to the sacrifice stone, and I’d say my story would win. The whole place was made of stone and very interesting. There were many layers to it, and many steps to get to other parts. A few of us climbed to the highest point of the largest structure and lay upon a flat stone overlooking the lush forest. The sky was a perfect, clear blue and the trees were a perfect, bright green. A light breeze passed over my hot skin, and I felt so spiritual and alive. Goodness and peace seemed to flow in and out of me, as I thanked God for the beauty of this world and for history and for my experiences.

Iguana acupuncture, etc.

DAY TWO:

Over the night, I slept quite well. There was one point where I woke up, felt confused about my surroundings, heard jungle animal noises, and immediately upon recollecting where I am, burst into a smile and drifted back to sleep.

The morning began with a light misting from the sky, but it was very warm, and I donned my shorts and t-shirt happily. We had breakfast at the resort from a small kitchen where the owner prepared toast and scrambled eggs for us. We next headed for the wildlife clinic to have our classes for the day.

The clinic is a few miles from where we are staying, and is nestled down a little dirt road in a beautiful, open field. The small, metal building was apparently an ice cream shop in a previous time. Our professor greeted us and gave a tour of the place. She is a French woman who grew up and lived in Germany, looks very European, speaks with an accent that reminds me of my late Dutch grandparents, and has a relaxed, but hardworking air about her. The building contained just a few rooms—an office, an x-ray room (which was apparently a new and wonderful addition due to grant money), an ‘exam room’ (which we used as a classroom, as well), a laundry room, and a small area for storage. If you are picturing something like a doctor’s office or veterinary clinic you’ve seen in America, you are not correct. Think more along the lines of your unfinished basement, make it a little more cleanly in your mind, and then imagine that as a clinic here. There are only 14 veterinary clinics in this whole country.

Something I learned about Belizean life today that I was incredibly impressed with is the ability of people to do with what they have. As we drove in yesterday, we say houses with finished first floors and beams set up in the second floor, but no walls built yet. Apparently, people just build when they have the money, and then add on when they have more money—borrowing money is way too expensive. I come from a culture where things are never displayed if they are not to perfection or completion. I so appreciate seeing people just enjoy what they have and wait for improving. The clinic is another example of this lifestyle. Until just a few months ago, the veterinarian had no gas anesthesia or x-ray machine. To practice medicine solely under injectable anesthesia and without any means of seeing an animal’s internals is quite unheard of in America. Yet, the people here are resilient, and they work with what they have and they work to improve that, but are patient enough to know that it takes time. Things are not so want-want-want. You see a true need-based living, and in many ways, that is beautiful.

We spent the day in the clinic, learning many things. First off, we got to see an iguana, affectionately called Iggie by the vet, get acupuncture. Acupuncture on an iguana, you say? Yes! This guy was found at a breeding facility, dragging his hind legs as if he had an injury of some sort. Looking at the x-rays, the doctor saw a spinal fracture that was only slightly displaced. However, upon consulting with an orthopedist, she found out that his spinal injury was in fact, old and healed. Not sure the cause of his discomfort and lethargy, she began a series of treatments, which all seemed to no effect. After meeting a frequent Canadian visitor of Belize who does Chinese medicine in Canada, she asked her if she’d be interested in trying acupuncture on Iggie. The woman agreed, and had done three treatments before we met here today, when she performed her final treatment on Iggie before heading back home for a time. Because the woman practices human medicine, using the veterinarian’s knowledge of anatomy, was able to determine some points for applying needles in the iguana. The acupuncture needles were left in for several minutes while the kind woman and her husband talked to us about holistic medicine approaches, goals, and benefits. I truly believe we are in a generation where people are more accepting of alternative forms of medicine. I’m certainly not knocking the knowledge we do have, but I believe by combining Western medicine techniques with Eastern medicine techniques, patients can gain the most benefits. The concept of energies and treating on a very individualized basis has much value in my eyes.

Iggie with acupuncture needles in 

Second, after a lecture from our professor on native Belizean animal species, we had lunch. Speaking in a big group with people who share your ideals and goals about conservation, ethics, things that are important, and the like, is the most refreshing activity I can think of. The veterinarian spoke to us about how Hope is everything in our job, because without it, what have we? We talked about various problems with educating the public and pest animals and endangered species, and to be surrounded, for once, by people who get it, who understand where my heart lies made me so happy. When I sometimes feel alone on an island of opposition, disinterest, indifference, or ignorance, I will remember these moments and these people, and thank God they, too, are spreading my message through this earth. The characteristic I have seen most in these people is curiosity. Curiosity seems to be the unifying characteristic of all the world’s best scientists.

After lunch, a speaker from a foundation called Birds Without Borders (o Aves Sin Fronteras), came to give us a presentation. The foundation works in Belize and in Wisconsin, tracking migratory bird species. Birds are caught and banded, weighed, measured, recorded, and released each year. At one point a bird was found to have traveled from Milwaukee to Belize in 24 hours, because of the data taken by this foundation. The group uses long poles with mirrors attached to look into nests and collect data, and data not only tells about migration patterns, but life span of birds. A tanager was found dead in Pennsylvania that was banded in Belize 12 years earlier, giving a much longer wild lifespan than was originally expected. Birds that have been caught each year are frequently caught in the same location, even in the same NET as they were in all previous years in Belize. This data shows the constancy of birds flight patterns, so it begs the question, what happens when a bird comes ‘home’ to find only farmland or buildings where they once came to live and reproduce?

Next, the forestry department came to speak to us. A very charismatic, dark-skinned, young fellow gave the presentation, and his Belizean accent sounded like a lovely blend of Jamaican and Hispanic to my ears. My favorite word he said was number 3 as “shree.” He likely said it shree times or more. I very much enjoyed his talk, because I honestly haven’t had tons of exposure to government’s role in animal ecology.  Because people are always changing their environments, the ability to interact with and educate them is so important in conservation. I liked the way he put it, regarding the job of the forestry department, “We are not here to manage the wildlife, they can survive fine on their own, but we are here to manage the people’s response to it.”

The man had many amusing anecdotes from his job, and I learned much from him. Turns out keeping a donkey will discourage jaguars from attacking your livestock. This phenomenon is because donkeys will run toward danger rather than away from it, and this brazen attitude confuses the predator species. He also stated that catching crocodile was quite easy, and all you need is “rope, duct tape, and quick feet.” We learned how jaguars cannot be relocated in Belize at all, because their home range is half the size of the country, so they will always return to wherever you moved them from. We also learned about what a problem hunting iguanas is here in Belize. Many people will kill pregnant females to eat them and their eggs in mass numbers during Iguana Fest’s, and there is about no faster way to wipe out a species than to kill pregnant females. Though illegal, it still happens, and that is very sad. One major plus of the forestry department here is that they are willing to put forth money to help those farmers who show a real interest in managing their livestock against wild predators. These farms can then be used as experiments to see what methods work best for managing livestock.

In conclusion to his speech, I asked the man what his craziest case was. I’ve included a synopsis of his story, because I just found it too darn funny not to! At one time, he was called to a hotel to pick up two spider monkeys that had been living there illegally under the hotel owner’s care. Having never been trained to capture monkeys, he drove out and with help of the disgruntled hotel owner, got the monkeys in two dog crates. The crates were put in the van, and they drove down the road. Shortly after, the driver looked back to see both monkeys had opened the crates with ease and were sitting atop them. Getting the notion that the monkeys were only being calm due to the moving vehicle, he slowed it enough that he could roll out of a moving van and close the monkeys in. In trying to capture the monkeys again from the van, he was flung with feces, one of the monkeys grabbed a police officer’s rifle from his hand, and eventually both of them escaped the vehicle and ran into the trees. Sheepishly, the men had to return to the hotel owner, whom they had just angered very much by taking her monkeys, and ask her to help them retrieve them. One of the monkeys was gotten, but catching the other did not come to fruition. According to the hotel keeper, the second monkey returned to her the next day, and our story teller forestry man decided to let her keep that one.

After this speaker, we tube fed Iggie, the acupuncture patient, because he has not been eating well the last few weeks. This activity concluded our day at class, and we headed back to town for a pleasant dinner in the 75 degree night air and a little shopping around for souvenirs. Bird watching bright and early tomorrow!

Getting tube-fed

Day one in Belize!

Looks like I’ll be posting these the day after they occur. Blogging in this manner allows me to fully capture a day’s adventures from waking up until the time I go to sleep. Here’s what I wrote from yesterday, DAY ONE:

You know it has been a good day when you just got done shuttling a tiny, quarter-sized frog out of your shower into the outdoors. I now sit on my bed, recollecting the day’s events.  

           

I woke up surprisingly calm (for me). My calmness may have been due to the fact that I was exhausted from Christmas and had a very early drive to the airport. However, I mostly felt numb. The three flights went well, just a few airport agitations (but those are to be expected), and I didn’t truly get excited until I was awoken by the pilot’s voice over the speaker in my final flight.

As I heard that call of “15 minutes to go,” I decided it was time to open up the plane window. Lo and behold, it was the most beautiful site I ever did see! The crystal blue waters spanned beneath me, and they were so translucent that I could actually see the drop off of the continental shelf.  A variety of islands were interspersed in the waters, covered in lush green trees. As we passed from ocean to land, I noticed an incredible amount of something you don’t always see flying over America—and that was exactly it—LAND. There was such a glorious green about the place. The houses were few and miles apart, dirt roads connected what dwellings did exist, and the whole of the earth seemed to be just as it should be, alive! How my heart blossomed at the sight of so much untouched nature! I could only imagine the jaguars hunting those forests by night, toucans flying by day, and I was ready to be down in Belize!

After passing through customs and meeting up with a wonderful group of students who are taking various courses with this program, we rode in a bus with our luggage for 2 hours on the way to our lodgings. The ride was positively marvelous. We were on the major and only true ‘highway’ in the country. Essentially, it is just a general strip of pavement with no lines that serves as a highway because of its length and the fact that is actually is paved.

Turns out there are no traffic lights here, just speed bumps every once in a while when you get to a busy area. However, traffic here is minimal, so it was nothing to be concerned about. One thing I automatically noticed about Belize is that it doesn’t seem to be too crowded. The airport in the major city was one random airstrip in the middle of the forest. I couldn’t believe the plane was descending into the trees, I thought we might be crashing, when all of a sudden, we hit the ground and slowed. As it would turn out, Belize is not very populated at all—320,000 people in the whole country! Interestingly enough, most of these people who live here are below the age of 35, because Belize, as a country, is only 31 years old, and many of the older generations left as it changed from British Honduras to Belize.

Along the way, we passed interesting sights and learned interesting things. Belize as a country is highly diverse in its people groups. It is unique in that it is in Central America, but also on the Caribbean. There are a mix of people descended from pirates, Mayan, creole, British, Spanish, etc etc. types of people. Markets for groceries are called ‘China stores,’ because it is often the Chinese who run them. The Spaniards tried to colonize Belize when the ancient Mayans were living here, and though they made attempts at converting them to Roman Catholicism, but the Mayans would always burn the churches as soon as the Spanish left the area.

We passed by a few cemeteries, which in Latin America look very different to those we are used to.

Many of the houses were painted bright colors, and I found out that it is a Belizean tradition to paint your house on Christmas with a fresh (and often new colored) coat of paint if you can afford it.

There is only one prison in the whole country. We passed it on the way to San Ignacio, and it turns out they have their own little ‘gift shop.’ Interesting.

The country is alive and beautiful, and the drive through it left me in wonder and happiness.

We arrived at our resort in the afternoon, and we got our roommate assignments and keys. The quaint, colorful lodges are nestled along a thin, stone path blooming with palm trees and bushes of bright pinks. I heard so many unfamiliar bird calls, and eagerly kept looking for their sources. As my roommate and I explored around the cabanas, we saw a small corn field and a great flock of birds flying from it to the trees and back to the corn again. Upon closer inspection, we saw that they were green parrots. I saw hundreds of green parrots all flying around together in their natural home, and it was incredible. We’ve got a comfortable place to sleep, a breakfast provided, and a pool to swim in. I had a delicious dinner, and I loved getting to know everyone on the trip. I saw a few lizards, heard some gecko calls, saved a tiny frog, and eagerly await the 4am rooster calls (which means these guys are the same kind as those pesky ones in Honduras I heard at 4am a few years back!)

I’ll finish with some pictures of where we are staying, and that will be it for day 1!

My own little cottage :) 

Another Journey Begins--It's Unbelizable.

and so they always seem to do and be.

I wish my spirits were more of fervor at this current time, but I am unconscious of the passing of time, and this trip has approached too fast for me to feel much. Surely it will be the same as the summer, where I suppress all emotion until I wake up the morning of the flight and feel it all so strongly I should nearly faint.

I am in the middle of reading some Jane Austen, as I happily do every Christmas, so I daresay my writing will be riddled with vernacular of that time and sentence structure that is so wholly pleasing to my ears, but very well may not be easy to read.

I would write closer to my trip, but as the next two days are Christmas Eve and Christmas itself, I should not likely have the time to sufficiently express myself. My fingers are very cold from the winter winds against my home, and I even saw snow two days ago. How I long for the warmth of Belize!

The weather forecast for my trip is: between 80-87 degrees each day! It will likely be rainy quite a bit, as well, due to the start of the rainy season there, but surely I do not mind! It will be again as my Elizabeth Bennett traipse through the woods picking wildflowers in Texas, but in a rain forest! This will perhaps feel more of a Jane Goodall traipse, and how much I look forward to it!

For those of you who don't know about my upcoming trip, I am headed to the small, Central American country of Belize. I am taking an intensive, short course on Wildlife Veterinary Medicine. I will get to practice my suturing techniques, blow darting as a means of immobilizing zoo animals for procedures, and learn many things about the wildlife of Belize and zoo/wildlife medicine in general. I am so excited!

It feels so medically real, too. I get to pack my own stethoscope, gloves, thermometer, scrubs. I will be properly outfitted with all of these, as well as hiking boots. SO many good items in one packing list.  Speaking of which, I must return to that packing. Expect new posts from Belize!!!

My gerbil, Gandalf the Grey

It's been ages, I know. But I've finally got something that just sparkles my spirits, and I am eager to write about it. Ah, how my words tumble like messy bricks, crumbling at each step. They are no longer a tepid breeze, flowing and filling. I apologize in advance for their blundering awkwardness.

A few weeks ago, a little thing called fate happened. I was in my animal physiology lab, and I was pretty excited about the experiment for the day. We were measuring metabolic rate of small mammals based on their oxygen use. Groups were given the choice of picking a hampster, gerbil, or mouse, and there were a couple of each. I was keen on getting a fluffy little brown and white hampster, but alas, I did not make it to the table in time to pick her. So, I went for the next cutest animal in the lab cages at the front. What sad, tiny containers held my furry friends. I eagerly scooped up a grey gerbil. He was a hyper thing, but compliant nontheless. We got him set up in his little apparatus, a clear tube that he was to sit in, inside a larger clear tube with beads to absorb his carbon dioxide output. The closed end of the container had a long tube protruding, into which I squirted a bubble of soap. The bubbles rate of traveling along the centimeter-marked tube was recorded and thus oxygen intake could be derived.

That's not the point at all, really.

The point is this:
During the middle of the lab, my darling little professor tells the class how these animals are done with after the lab. The petstore would take some back, but others would be euthanized after the lab period or kept in those tiny cages for later experiments. The professor was planning to take one home, as he cared for their well-being, and he urged students to take one (or more) home if we were at all able.

Well, I jumped at this opportunity. Literally, I started jumping around the room, super excited, saying how I couldn't wait to take home a new pet! I looked around at every group, asking people about the demeanor of their particular animals, observing the cuteness factor of each, and asking to hold them when they came out of their tubes. I talked to the professor about his impression of them, which he liked the most, and the like. He was highly fond of a black gerbil he named Ursula. He was going to take her home, and it was really cute. He told me his second favorite was the other silver-colored gerbil, who he had been calling "Grey." Well, howdy duty, that was the little guy I'd been working with, and frankly, I agreed that he was adorable. So, at the end of the lab period, I walked quickly home with my boy in tow, and got him set up in his home. It's a very dear set-up. He has a deep layer of shaving to burrow in, a wheel to run on (though he doesn't love it), tubes coming out of the top that he can climb through, a wooden castle that he sleeps in and climbs on top of for fun, and a ladder that he never seems to use because he prefers a form of glorified hopping to get where he wants to go. Oh! My friend helped me pick the new name, as Grey was just not zazzy enough, and let me just say, I am in LOVE with the LOTR reference name.

Gandalf loves to climb. Here's how I know. Every night, around 6 pm, I do this weird thing called "bathroom time with Gandalf," or so my roomates call it. I wanted a room that Gandy (as I affectionately call him) could run around in, but one small enough I could keep an eye on him. The only room in my apartment that fit the bill was my bathroom. So, every night for his exercise time, I take my homework into the bathroom, take a pillow to sit on, Gandy's toys, and of course, Gandalf, and I spend an hour or two...or three...just working and watching my sweet little man run and play and have the best time ever. Today, he was very fiesty. Well, let's be honest, Gandalf is always hyper. He is the most curious little animal I have ever seen, and so daring! Today he was really adventurous, though. He figured out that if he gets a good enough runny-go, he can run vertically up my pants, shirt, and onto my shoulder or head!!! Once he gets up there, he does some crazy spidergerbil moves to leap onto my chest, hand, hip and then runs back down my leg again. I, as a protective mother, kept gently depositing him back on the ground from my shoulder, but he continued his little acrobatics, with more fervor every time! What fun. He will climb onto anything, higher and higher and higher if he has the opportunity. He's amazingly agile, can jump high, is unafraid and unabashed, eats positively everything I give him, including his house and food bowl!

He has a few other favorite things besides climbing and chewing. One is toilet paper tubes. He is obsessed with the things. I put one in his house and literally one minute later, the whole tube is a mass of shreds and he is hurredly carrying them in his mouth to hide inside of his castle to line his bed. Next, he loves towels. In bathroom time, I will make these long rolls of towels, and he just goes crazy running through them over and over again. I make towel obstacle courses for him. Third, he loves sunflower seeds like I have never seen anyone love sunflower seeds. That little fatty will search through his whole bowl of food and pick out just the 4 or so sunflower seeds and eat them. I've had to start removing them from the food so he will eat his fiber! I use the seeds as training treats now, and he is so dear when I place my hand in his cage with a seed on it. He lopes over and uses his paws to pick it up, nibbling at it, sniffing my hand and tickling me with his whiskers, looking for more. He stands on his hind legs in a way that reminds me of the meerkats of my summer when he's curious about something.

He's awesome and beautiful and makes me verry happy.

Here are some photos of him!

 

My Goldfish

I guess this is what things have come to. I'm writing a post about my pet goldfish. I'm pretty awesome, let's be honest. But you know what? It makes me happy that I can find so much enjoyment from a tiny fish that I feel the need to write about him. It makes me happy that he's worth that much to me.

Here's the story:
As I had become fed up with a certain petstore and the quality of fish I had received from there, I decided to try another one. My friend and I went to said store to pick out new creatures to grace my lovely, albeit empty tank. The tank is a standard 10 gallon, with teal and green rocks, as well as blue glass rocks on the bottom. There are three fake plants in purple, teal, and pink, of varying heights and styles. I have a small statue that looks like a Chinese hut, as well as the coolest Egyptian statue ever. I have a special fondness for Egypt because the best day of my life (or at least one of the top three) was spent climbing around on the pyramids at Giza and shopping in Cairo's fun bazaars (more on that another time!). Anyway, the so-named "Temple of Rah" looks like the side of a building, with columns, a statue of a pharaoh, and hyeroglyphics written on it. My hood has LED lights that give it a special and white-light glow. Basically, it was in need of some cool aquatic animals seeing as I was unable to successfully shrink myself and find a way to breath underwater so that I might live there.

We got to the store, and having been highly frustrated with my skills as an aquarist. I had regretfully went through several fish in the past two years, despite my ardent research, vast amounts of money spent, and earnest to succeed in providing the most healthy environment for fish...So, I was kind of fed up with the whole thing. But good news is, I don't give up very easily. I get very set in my ways, stubborn, to accomplish something I've set my mind to, and keeping a fish long enough to truly love it was my goal.

Remember all that money I said I'd spent on the tank? Well, I couldn't afford the prettiest fish anymore. So, I got one fiddler crab and 5 so-called 'feeder fish' (the tiny, 25cent goldfish that are typically bought as food for larger fish). One of the fish died before we even got home. Of the four left, one was unique. He has black tipped on his tail fin, just on the end, and he was distinguishable by this trait. I was reluctant to name the fish, because of their likely death, but did name the crab, as I had luck in keeping them in years past. His name was Anakin, but he quickly was re-named Vader when we realized he had a dark side. Crazy little thing ate 3 of my 4 goldfish within the first day!!! I saw him hiding in the Chinese hut just cleaning out their insides. Now, I'm not mad at the crab for doing what was only natural to him, and that's just the circle of life for ya, but it kinda stunk that I only had 1 surviving fish after ONE day. And well,  I guess Vader ate too much, because the next week, he was dead, too.

And so there was one. Little black-tipped tail guy. Somehow he was just a trooper who managed to avoid the grasps of Vader, and over the past few weeks, he has grown to at least 2-3 times his original size! Crazy enough, as we had named the crab Vader, this guy is turning to the dark side, too! And I don't mean the mean side...I mean, he is turning black! His whole tail has grown to black, as well as his caudal fin, and he has gotten black spots along his sides. It's so cute! Anyway, after watching him for several mornings, I came up with a name for him. He flits around, most curious, and has an intuition about things, but overall, his simpleness and will to survive shine through. He loves his food and eats it well, and he explores his tank as if it is new each time he looks or tastes something in it. Because of his nature, I named him Henricus Ludivicus. Why the crazy name? That was my Dutch grandfather's name. By the time I was old enough to truly know him, he was suffering from Alzheimer's. He was simple, had a short memory, but his love of animals, crazy foods, and will to survive shone through. I remember him puttering around the farm, showing me baby kittens and cattle and feed and tractors. I remember petting his dogs and watching him eat ridiculous concotions of cereal with orange juice or lemonade instead of milk! My dad is so much like him. Just plain kind. No matter what he did, you could see that earnest showing through, and though I was young, I have such fond memories of him. He's one of the first people who really taught me to love animals. And so I named my fish in his honor and memory.

I'm training Henricus right now. I do this silly thing at night where I lok at his tank light being on and say "Henricus, it is way past your bed time mister! Why you still have the lights on?" And then I proceed to turn out his light. However, lately I've decided that in my earnest love of him, I want to give him a goodnight kiss. Okay, this sounds ridiculous, I know! But it's adorable to watch, and I will explain to you what I mean by it. When I look down at his tank, watch him for a bit, and say "It's past your bedtime," I pucker up near the glass and when he swims up to my lips and kisses at the glass, I sprinkle a little bit of food while simultaneously turning off the light. It will take a little time, but I am hoping to train him to associate 'bedtime' with a ksis goodnight and a little snack.

I'm honestly scared to add any more fish. He's doing so well, I just don't want to disrupt the balance. I've grown so fond of him that I fear my affections would wane if others were there for me to worry about. I just sense that he will live a long time. I once had two goldfish that lived for 2 years each. They were beautiful and I frequently drew them. I hope Henricus will be the same way. As he is the main animal in my life right now, I get to outpour my affections on him, and I am always happy to spend my morning sipping coffee and watching him have his breakfast. He is very dear to me. He is a goldfish. It is the simple things in life that set us free.

Spider bite.

Because I find it more thrilling to hear from my own heart the words that lie therein than I do to hear of my biochemistry text book, I find myself sitting on the porch of my apartment. My hands smell of strong berry scent, the Pride and Prejudice sountrack plays in my ears. The sky is a perfect, clear blue and the sun abounds. Light breeze adds to the perfection of the 70 degree weather. I feel nervous about something I cannot explain. I've felt this way for two days. It's almost as a foreshadowing of intuition has overcome me. I can't explain it, but still it lies within my breast. Perhaps it is because I just finished a book so compelling that I feel my life is but a vapor of non-importance in comparison to the great accomplishments of those whom I read biographies about.  Perhaps something bad is about to happen. Perhaps somethign good is about to happen. Either way, I'm having premonitions.

Minus the strange feeling I unexplainedly possess, yesterday was a glorious day. The first essences of fall appeared on the breeze as I had not yet felt them yet this year. After my classes, I happily made my way to a trail that I had often passed in driving around town, but had never yet explored. The town in whcih I attend school is large, commercial, crowded, concrete. There are some quirky and knice historic gems, but overall, it does not have the wild feel that I crave. I was skeptical of woods nestled so closely to a highway, but curious nonetheless. The next two hours were spent in calm bliss for me. All that mattered was my feet moving in front of one another, the breath that filled my body and allowed me to move, the way the fallen leaves gave way softly under my sneakers. The forest was cool, and after several hundred yard of trekking along on a path I made for myself, reciting "The Road Less Traveled By" as I noted landmarks as not to lose myself. I became enamored with the green acorns that were unripenly lying at tree bases and kept stowing them in my pockets. I climbed up onto a fallen tree's rough, damp surface, in a cool part of the woods near a creek, and I saw a doe drinking not ten yards off. She skittered away nearly silently, and I cursed my heavy bipedal inablities to make so little noise. I took photographs of the first tidings of autumn-trees with just a few leaves changed, clear skies. About a mile in, I came to the southern edge of the woods--a fence lining a subdivision. Turning away in sadness, I pushed east across another few miles, regaining the trail, an easy walk marked almost too frequently with blue blazes. It was scarcely enough for my expanding spirit, so I began to run, leaping up on rocks and spinning round trees, feeling the capabilities of my lungs, my legs, my heart. I continued in this manner for quite some time, and just as I was at the forest edge, having re-traced the trail back to the ugly asphalt, I felt a sharp sting under my left armpit. Needing quickly to remove whatever creature had so assaulted me, I drew my shirt over my head and searched its inner sleeve for the culprit--nothing. I was not too worried, as black widows, one of the only threats in these parts besides a few types of snakes, generally have webs close to the ground or in cracks, and the likelihood of one having made its way to my armpit was pretty slim. The stinging, however, did not recede, and I finished the walk back to my car, wincing and holding that arm out away from my body to keep it from rubbing against my shirt. I came home and iced the deck of cards-sized swelling just behind the armpit. It continued to sting through the evening, and grew to a shape similar to that of a t-bone steak. The swelling went down somewhat, but today it itches like the dickens and is pretty red. Darn my sensitive armpit skin. Hopefully it heals soon, or I'll be making a trip to the doctor.

It's another great autumn day out, and as the predictions are that it will continue to be so for some time. As that is the case, I will likely have more outdoor adventure stories to share soon!

My favorite graveyard.

            It feels almost wrong to have a laptop out in this setting. I’m sitting here beneath a large oak, which splits in such a way that it almost appears to be two trees. It is old, with massive branches for shading me. I feel the crumples of the earth beneath me, rocks, roots, broken sticks and fallen leaves. I like them pressing into my legs as I sit; it lets me know how free and far I am from the plastic I am so confined to in a normal day. Should I even continue to work on my blog? That’s the question that was running through my head for most of the afternoon. But as I walked to the place where I now sit, my favorite spot in the town where I go to school, the words kept forming and re-forming in my head in such a way that I could not stop myself from the expression had I tried.

The words spoke through my thoughts as I walked on the newly made path. They had mulched it, packed it tight, and though the walking was easier and the way more clear, I did miss the tickling and scratching of weeds at my legs as I made a path of my own. Newly painted brown signs were up to mark the way, saying “Trail.” They probably put such things up to stop people from doing exactly what I always do—dancing amid the gravestones, following no lines of convention as I plod along, treating this massive battlefield graveyard as more of an open field than I daresay the establishment would like me to. Here’s a thing about favorite places: they often have some special meaning to us, some story or memory behind them that always draws us back…and mine does, certainly. My favorite place here is a probably 100 acres of soft , green grass. The area is fenced in by a brick wall, which is worn, and upon which green mosses grow. Many trees are in this field, of all different types and constitutions. Honestly, I think each tree of the fifty or so that are planted here is unique in its species.  Amid these trees and amid this grass are many small, grey headstones. Thousands. They are in neat rows, unlike the trees. There is a large statue in the middle of the graveyard, black iron on tan marble. I don’t know who it is, honestly, but it’s a lovely statue. The oak where I sit is at the back, far from where people dare to venture. After all, a graveyard starts to look the same after the first few stones…to some people. This is my favorite side, not only because it is far away from the general population, but also because it is continually in shade. The forest just over that lovely brick wall blocks the sun from burning my tender skin.

Why a graveyard? People are continually perplexed by my adoration of this place. First I will tell you of my stumbling upon it, and then I will explain why it is indeed the perfect place to rest one’s mind. It was freshman year at college, two years ago. I had just gotten back my first calculus exam of the semester, and I had gotten a grade that was much less than acceptable to me. I was hurt and frustrated; I thought I knew the material very well, but it was not to be so. In an effort to clear my mind, I put on a t-shirt and shorts, pulled on my sneakers, and went for a run. Some people say it clears their head. Honestly, for me, it’s just very hard to think about anything except trying to get oxygen to my cells when I’m trucking along, and thus, I am unable to think- and unable to be hard on myself. I was running along the darling houses that I love so much, with nice, small gardens and stone-work around door frames. I ran past many homes and then saw a path that looked like an entrance to a park. I thought I’d take a walk down this path and see what it held. The road that I walked down was an extension of an old battle road, where civil war soldiers marched. Along this stoned pathway were signs with photos and information. As I looked into soldiers eyes on this pictures, looked into the faces of people who hurt and grit their teeth and left what they knew for the sake of something they believed in, I saw what life is. You grow, and you feel, and you seek to make some small or large impact that is carried on beyond you. These men had lived and breathed and walked this same path with cares on their heart. They knew not of me and of the footsteps I would eventually take. They were just breathing, living, and hoping to make their impact. They had wives, children, hobbies, pets. Maybe they went dancing on weekends or collected postage stamps. Maybe they sang or played an instrument or cooked well. Either way, I saw that the past can make fools of the present. My calculus grade became nothing. It was put a particle, an insignificant piece, in the fabric of life that is continually fraying and getting new threads added. I was a woven string that if you followed its connectors long enough, you might get just back to this moment, this place, and see a man walking that same road, scared with gun in hand.

I followed the road to the end and then climbed a steep, stone set of stairs. My thighs burned with the effort of the climb, but the top of the hill revealed what could not be seen from the road below. The fields. Ah, the green acres that stretched before me, the view of sky and hills, and so much peace where once there were cannons. These men hurt and grit their teeth and left what they knew, but these men finally got to rest at the end of it all and feel no more pain. They may have a picture left, a face on an information plaque. They may just have that grey stone with initials. They may not even have that. But they had my heart, and they taught me that life goes on. It’s a huge circle. And the ashes of their bodies became the nutrients that fed these unique and unruly, beautiful trees, that now give me shade as I sit and write on a computer, of all things. And I’ll do the same for someone else someday. This graveyard is a place where death meets life, but not in such a way that it hurts. Death is remembered for the sanctity of life, and as I will one day rest to fertilize the flowers before me, maybe I too will inspire some young child with words in their heart on some strange, advanced writing device I could never conceive.

The sun burns down from the clear, blue sky. The humidity is nearly unbearable here. The prickly things of the earth press into my legs and I sit beneath the shade of my favorite oak, looking on rolling green hills framed by brick. I need wide, open spaces, and I get them here. I’ve been back at school for two days now. My life is always changing, but I hope to say it’s always moving towards something. The grass and the earth beneath my toes are soft and supple. I feel an aching sadness approaching, because while this all feels new in some ways, in too many this school routine feels the same. I liked the freedom of my summer- a whole new existence that held all the world’s possibilities. I will make what I can of this. I will use the landscapes of new knew knowledge to paint my inner thoughts. I will seek fields and flowers and animals as often as I can, walk and run and read until I feel fulfilled. I will take these good places in my heart for always and use them to fill the places where the sun doesn’t shine so bright.

It would probably be of benefit to expound on my teachers, my classes, but not now. Now I need Dickens and sunshine. I need the grass beneath my feet. Thoreau said if he didn’t walk at least 4 hours a day, it was not a good day. How pleasant it would be to dedicate so much time to merely feeling my body carry me. For now, I will read amidst the graves, feel the sun and the grass, and write more when it so presses on my heart.

If ever there was a place made for healing...

     If ever there was a place made for healing, I'd say it would be right here. I thank God that there was ever such a beautiful place created as my home. I cried on both of the flights. I cried the whole morning of my departure. I cried as I hugged my best friends at the zoo. Leaving was terribly painful, but I'd been gone from home so long, I guess I'd forgotten what I was coming back to.
     They say scent is the strongest sense tied to memory, and while I believe that to be true, I think all my senses were alight with my homecoming. The view from where I sit is serene. I'm on my porch swing, lazily moving back and forth, wind blowing gently through my hair. My beautiful cat, who looks more like a cheetah in stature than a domestic cat, sleek grey, incredibly thin and long with bright green eyes, sits beside me. Well, I shouldn't say 'sits' when the little pest is continually trying to walk all over my keyboard and smack his paw lightly on the bright light of the screen. I've got him in a gentle chokehold as I try and keep his wiley self away from my typing. He's so soft and is purring incessantly. The breeze is gentle, but it almost chills me. I am not used to this weather, at a windy 75 degrees, overcast skies, I feel very much far from my new usual. I mean this in the most sincere of ways when I say, this is the most perfect weather in the whole world, and I would never trade it for the awful heat of my summer. I've always considered that I loved heat more than cool...and I suppose that is still true...but this- This is perfection. If I could bottle the atmosphere here, bottle the wind and bottle the skies...I would send it down south and I'm sure everyone would be convinced of the perfect happiness I feel in this moment. Other wonderful things adding to my happiness are the view, the smells, and the sounds. Have I mentioned that I'm run on emotions, and I feel things with a strength indescribable?
     Here's what I see before me. Hills. So many hills, rolling fields of hay, woods with trees in all shades of green ranging from pale lime to a deep forest. The shade of the cumulonimbus clouds seems to add a depth to the green, but where the sun is peeking out, shining on my barn, the field takes on a yellowed hue. There is so much land in all directions. An efervescent glow springs forth from the earth and calls to me to run free in its wildness. Inside that barn at the bottom of this hill are the most beautiful scents. The morning of my first day back, I lept from my bed and slipped on my boots. I ran with childish flailing through long grasses that cut my legs, threw myself on the soft ground, sifted my fingers through the dark, soft, wet soil. Ah the soil!!! I spread my arms wide and looked up at the big grey skey. I laughed and smiled in spite of myself. When I got into the barn, though, I felt most truly at home. They must be right about that sent-memory thing. Whoever they are. The hay, the sweet scent of hay, filled my nostrils and seemed to carry itself through my whole body to the point that I shivered in delight. The dust, the tractor grease, the burlap sacks and twine. It was all so poignant, and it was all so...mine. These scents had raised me. All that I am and all that I have grown to be are some product of scents such as these. I spun in circles amid them. I grabbed horse treats and skipped to the pasture gate. I climbed eagerly over its silver surface and jumped to the ground. I ran with wild laughter to my horses, and threw my arms around the neck of my sweet Devon. When I breathed in and smelled the special scent that he alone has (animals are just like humans in that way!), I began to cry. The tears just flowed, mixing with laughter, and I hugged and hugged him. He rubbed his face all over me, lips flapping giving me wet kisses as he searched for the treats he knew I possessed. I looked him over thoroughly, checking for any differences, injuries, anything. But he looked great. And Artex did, too. The strict diet I set them on has been implemented wonderfully, as they are both at a good body condition for their age. Their manes were groomed, their eyes were bright, their hooves were newly trimmed. My dad did a great job caring for them this summer, and I am so thankful! It always pains me so strongly to leave my darlings for a spell, but it makes it so much better when I know they are in good hands.
     All of this horse talk is getting me kind of desperate to run back down to the barn...which may not be the best of ideas considering the condition my muscles are in from riding the past few days. They were not used to such working!
   Another part of my body that aches sorely is my finger tips. It's unbelieveable to me how long I had truly been gone. I've always been a traveler, and I've been away to school, but I can't say I've ever NOT seen my home for more than about a month or two at a time. But I've been so far from what I've known, and so last night I sat down on my porch, relishing in the stars that I could see (finally!!!), and played my guitar for hours on end. It was wonderfully lovely, and I'm happy to have found that I did not lose all my talents these past three months...but I tell you what, my fingers are feeling it today! Not to mention that I played piano just after that for a long spell...so they've just gotten their work-outs for the week.
     One thing I haven't gotten to do much of yet that I am eagerly awaiting is painting! Ah, to get a brush to a blank canvas, to spread color where there is none, and make bright what is lacking...that is my calling. I relish in creating. Surely creations from these same fingertips will follow soon.
     There are beautiful sounds surrounding me now, as well. The crickets are constant, a songbird occassionally chirps, and behind me I hear horses neighing. No, these are not my horses, who are in front of me. These are the horses at the fairgrounds, whose property backs up to ours. At the back of the fairgrounds is the arena for horse events. They must be having a show today, as I can hear the announcer calling out names, and I can hear the horses calling out theirs in languages we cannot decipher. I hear the leaves rustle from the wind. I feel these sounds within me.
    Surely very few people find this to be interesting. I have merely sat and described to you my home. But I will say this. I may not end up here permanently. I may be gone for times much longer than 3 months one day...but I will take this beauty, this perfection, in my heart always. No matter where I go, I will have the wind and sky to remind me of how excellent they can be. The mountains may elude my eyes, but they will never elude my emotions. They will rise within me, being built up wherever there are none, coloring the canvas of my mind in the same way my paintbrush does. I love it here. I am pensive, at peace, I am home.

I wrote a poem about my summer and how I feel about it now. It's called "Like wine."

Good stories are like wine, I think
They have a certain flavor
They start out sour and awful
And are something not to savor

They tend to hurt upon your heart,
Bring tight sting to your throat;
They rip your soft, weak lungs apart
with cries that can't be wrote

But time will let them ferment so,
They'll grow so fine and sweet
That from your eyes tears will not flow
But upon lips a smile will greet

Now their full scent is not fully known
until you swirl the glass
Toss those notions to and fro
Or the layers of senses will pass

And do not drink from newly made wine
or you will surely regret it
Learn this lesson- learning takes time
And a story is just not as good

right after you've left it.