A Week in the Woods: Day Two

I slept for eight and a half hours the first night, which is about as much as I've ever slept while camping. A warm sleeping bag over several layers of spruce branches and needles was just slightly worse than my mattress at home; the thin branches form a springy frame and the needles flatten under your weight into some sort of prehistoric memory foam. Even better, as you crush the mattress beneath you a pleasant spruce aroma is released.

My first task of the day was to fill up my 1 liter water bottle from the nearby stream. I had done this a couple times the day before, but I decided to record how long it took this time around. Walking to the stream took 4 minutes, then filtering took another 14. A fellow researcher had kindly lent me a hand-pumped water filter, and my system was to fill the bottle at the stream, drink as much as I felt like on the spot, then refill it to take back to camp. Factoring the 4 minute walk back, my final result for a water trip was 22 minutes. I made this trip roughly 3 or 4 times a day throughout the week.

The next big job of the day was to finish roofing my shelter. I thought I had cut a lot of spruce boughs to make my mattress, but the local defoliation required for covering the shelter was on another level. I determined to cut just 5 boughs from any one tree so as not to injure their health unnecessarily, but there was no shortage of spruce in the area so I still didn't need to walk very far. I used the saw blade on my multi-tool extensively in the collection and it is stained with spruce sap to this day.

I built the roof up in layers, starting at the bottom with one ring of boughs, then laying another ring above but overlapping, and so on to the top. Growing up in the village, I had seen people thatch huts in a similar manner, and in both cases it worked pretty well to make rainwater run off the roof instead of dripping through.

In the evening, two of my coworkers from camp came to visit my site, which was pleasant. They brought a container of fried rice and a thermos of hot chocolate as housewarming gifts; it tasted practically gourmet even though I had just been on my diet of granola, raisins, and peanut butter for one day. It was a good end to a productive day, and I lay down to sleep happily that night with spruce above me and below me.

A Week in the Woods: Day One

So there I was, standing in a forest clearing with my backpack, my wits, and a generous 10 hours of sunlight in which to build my shelter. It was August 16, 2017, and my fellow researchers had taken me by truck a ways up the dirt path of the Old Alaska Highway, to a place where a stream crossed the track. There, I said my goodbyes and continued on foot. A short hike later, I saw a clearing just off the path, a sort of depression that looked like it might once have been a pond. Reaching the other side of the depression, I crested a small hill and came upon another clearing, about twice as long as it was wide, and well out of sight of the Old Alaska Highway. This seemed to be as good a site as any to set up my camp; I put down my backpack and began to look around.

I discovered that my immediate surroundings weren't at all unpleasant. Dense patches of young spruce trees sheltered my clearing to the east and west, and several formations of fallen logs provided a barrier on the north. To the south, back towards the path, there were a few low hills; I designated one of these hills, about twenty meters away from the clearing, as my kitchen area and I left the bear canister containing all my food there so that I might be undisturbed even if a bear did direct its interest towards my edibles.

The next order of business was to start building my shelter. I had done some light research on boreal survival and the main thing that I picked up about shelters was that it was important not only to have a roof, but also a bed to elevate myself so that I would not lose huge amounts of body heat to the cold ground at night. Fortunately, dead wood is easy to find in the Yukon, and I soon had myself a rough rectangle of logs about eight feet long, four feet wide, and six inches high. I covered this surface with spruce branches for padding, and it was surprisingly springy and comfortable. I decided that the easiest shelter to make in this situation was a sort of A-frame, and I found a fallen poplar sapling that was about twenty feet long that would make a perfect main beam. With the help of the two trees at the foot of my bed and a few forked branches, I soon made my vision a reality.

Getting to this point took more time than I thought it would; I wasn't in a hurry, but I also began to appreciate the 'infinite labor' Robinson Crusoe cites whenever he talks about the things he built with minimal tools. I placed several branches to make the frame of the roof, put my garbage bag waterproofing layer on, and then added several more branches overtop the plastic before tying it all together and calling it a day. The shelter wasn't quite finished, but it kept the wind out and it didn't look like there was any more serious weather on the way.

I hung my battery-powered lantern just inside the entrance of my shelter, rolled out my sleeping bag on top of the spruce mattress, and laid down to read a bit and then sleep. I had all my sweaters and jackets on in the sleeping bag and my winter hat pulled over my ears, and I was just about able to stay warm.

A Week in the Woods: Preparation

I've done a lot of packing in my life, but preparing for a one-week stay in the Yukon wilderness provided a relatively new experience. Most of what I needed was pretty basic: clothes, food, things to help me make a shelter, and several books to read in the free time I anticipated having. The generosity of my coworkers helped a lot-- I got a backpacking-sized backpack from a tech who was leaving and I borrowed a battery-powered lantern and a hand-pumped water filter from a grad student.

The main specialty item I needed to get for this trip was a bear canister to keep my food safe from bears and other interested parties. I decided to rent a bear canister from Parks Canada, a process that involved going to their nearest outpost and filling out some paperwork. Everything went smoothly until the ranger asked me where I was going to be using the bear canister (this is done mostly so that Parks Canada knows where campers are in case an emergency situation arises). My first answer, "Oh, I'll just be in the woods north of here," apparently didn't cut it. I hadn't considered my rescuability by Parks Canada as a factor in choosing a random section of forest rather than a designated backpacking trail for my expedition, but in hindsight it makes sense. As far as the bear canister rental was concerned, I realized I could be more specific, and I wrote "in the woods near the Old Alaska Highway, people at Squirrel Camp will know where I am," and the ranger was happy with that.

A trip to Whitehorse, the city which contains two thirds of the Yukon's population and most of its grocery stores, allowed me to fill the rented bear canister with all the food I would need. The canister was small enough to be carried comfortably under one arm, but since I went for fairly dense foods, I ended up packing about 20,000 calories into it. As in other areas, I erred on the side of over-preparation.

I made an inventory of all the supplies I brought with me for the week; this was inspired in part by the highly-organized lists my mom makes when packing for important trips, and in part by Robinson Crusoe, one of my favorite books and a source of my interest in wilderness survival and building shelters and other such stuff. When I finally set out, I had a full backpack on my back, the bear canister under my arm, my neatly-packed sleeping bag in one hand, and a stout stick in the other. Here is what I took with me for my week in the woods:

Apparel
Two sets of clothes (including those I was wearing)
Two jackets
Boots
Sweater
Bandana
Bug net (a mesh hood that rendered my face and neck inaccessible to insects)
Rain coat
Rain pants
Gloves
Two warm hats
Backpack
Sunglasses

Tools
Belt knife
Multi-tool
Two whistles
Compass
Flashlight
Two pens
Sharpie
Flagging tape
Mechanical pencil
Binoculars
Walkie-talkie
18 AA batteries
Bear spray
Chapstick
Water bottle (1 liter capacity)
Water filter
Toothbrush (I must have forgotten to bring toothpaste, typical)
Kleenex
Toilet paper
First-aid kit

Campsite Materials
Four large garbage bags (for waterproofing my shelter)
Thick rope
Thin rope
Wire
Duct tape
Lantern (battery-powered)
Sleeping bag
Small Canadian flag

Food
1 kg granola
1 kg peanut butter
1 kg raisins
1 kg dried apricots
750 g dried cranberries
400 g chocolate
Bear canister
Ziploc bags
Spoon

Media
The Bible
Robinson Crusoe
Wildflowers Along the Alaska Highway
Journal
Kindle
Smartphone
iPod
Rechargeable battery
Charging cables

A Week in the Woods: Safety First

Once I had determined that I would like to spend a week in a handmade shelter in the boreal forest, there were several safety issues to take into account. While I liked the idea of being out in the wilderness by myself, I didn't like it enough to risk injury, mortal or otherwise. Brainstorming with my coworkers and reading survival literature produced the following concerns:

Bears
In the weeks approaching my expedition, bear sightings had become relatively common, and several of us had encountered bears at a closer range than we would like. Me being alone for this week exacerbated the issue; a single person may have more difficulty frightening off bears than a group, and nobody would be close by to call for help if an incident did occur. Bear risk reduction happened in a number of ways.
1. Food - I didn't bring any meat in my food supply, and food was stored in a bear-proof canister about 20 meters away from my sleeping site. In general, I tried to avoid giving bears any reason to confront me.
2. Alarm system - I chose a site for my camp that was surrounded by three squirrel territories; squirrels bark when large animals are nearby, so I hoped to get some warning of any intruders. For the first few days, however, the squirrels mostly just barked at me.
3. Defense - I had a can of bear spray with me at all times, and when I went to sleep at night, I kept the bear spray propped up in a boot at the entrance of my shelter to be ready at a moment's notice.

Exposure
My week in the woods was planned for the middle of August, and things were beginning to get chilly in the Yukon. If it got too cold at night or if it rained, things could range from unpleasant to dangerous. Since I picked a spot in the forest that was just a few hours hike from the main camp, the most important thing as far as exposure was concerned was for me to give up and go back to camp if things got too extreme. But to prevent this eventuality, I planned:
1. Shelter - I brought four large garbage bags to line the roof of my shelter to ensure that it would be waterproof. In theory, a roof of spruce boughs alone would have kept me dry, but I didn't want to take any chances.
2. Clothes - in addition to my base of jeans and a t-shirt, I brought a sweater, a light jacket, a heavy jacket, a rain jacket, and rain pants. I wore all of it except the rain gear for the majority of the week, only getting down to the t-shirt once when it was the middle of the day and I was getting warm from manual labor.

Falling Trees
I was glad to have picked up a book on wilderness survival in the weeks before my expedition because I learned from it that an important danger to consider when one is sleeping in a forest is that of falling trees. There were a lot of dead trees in our valley thanks to an epidemic of beetles in the 1990s, and it doesn't pay to assume they won't fall at any given time. The solution for this was fairly straightforward.
1. Location - I chose a spot for my shelter that would be untouched even if every tree in the area fell directly towards it. This took a good deal of time, but I was very happy with the location I eventually found.

Poisoning
Throughout the summer, I was one of the more adventurous members of the camp when it came to consuming the local flora. I always make sure to identify a plant and make sure it's edible before I go to town on it, and even then I start with small morsels and wait to see if anything happens if it's a plant I haven't eaten before. There was much discussion in camp of Into the Wild, a book (and movie) telling the true story of an Emory graduate who went to live in the Alaskan wilderness and died there after eating a poisonous plant. In the end, I decided it wouldn't hurt to be extra safe on this one.
1. Avoidance - originally, I planned to not try any new plants during this week, but ultimately I decided to not eat any wild plants at all-- I had enough fun with that earlier in the summer and it made everyone feel better about this risk.

The final elements of my comprehensive safety plan were communication and transportation. For the whole summer, we had generally reliable radios that we used to communicate while in different study grids, and I brought a radio and two month's worth of batteries to ensure it kept running. I was too far away to radio the main camp, but I could talk to people who were on a nearby grid, so at least I could check in each day to say I was still alive and kicking.

As for transportation, the site I chose for my camp was close to the Old Alaska Highway, a dirt road wide enough for one vehicle that had been abandoned upon the construction of the new Alaska Highway. My camp was out of sight of the road, but I marked a few trees with initialed flagging tape so that people would be able to find it if need be. In short, if things did start to go wrong, I had a good chance of being able to let people know and they had a good chance of being able to get to me quickly.

A few other dangers were considered; apparently moose are very unpleasant if they feel threatened. A coworker kindly lent me a water filter so I wouldn't have to risk disease from the local stream. Getting lost in the woods would be a downer, but with a compass and two ranges of mountains to navigate by, I couldn't go too far wrong, and in any case I stayed around my camp for most of the week. There is, of course, no way to ensure complete safety in the wilderness, but after all this planning I felt that the risks were both minimal and manageable.

A Week in the Woods: the Idea

I have vague memories of a childhood in a village in rural Nigeria. I remember playing in the rain outside our cement-block house, and I remember watching our neighbors thatch one of their huts. I remember the red hill sparkling with crystals at the end of the road, and the coolness of the mango grove near the well. Ever since my family left the village, I've spent most of my time in cities, and while that has certainly has its perks, I miss the sort of wilderness that I was fortunate enough to inhabit at a young age.

Last summer, when I had the opportunity to do research in the Yukon for a few months, the chance to live in the wilderness was a big pull. The camp we worked from was a gathering of wooden shacks in the middle of a forested valley backed by a line of stony hills that would have been more picturesque if they hadn't had to compare with the range of snow-capped mountains on the other side of the vale. It was certainly a different sort of wilderness than I had previously encountered, but it was great nonetheless. We worked six days a week, but even then we found time for hiking in the hills, foraging in the forest, and swimming in several of the extremely cold local lakes. It helped that the sun only set for a couple hours each night.

For me, the culmination of this wilderness experience happened in my final week in the Yukon. Each research technician was entitled to a one-week holiday, the only condition being that they weren't allowed to stay in camp (perhaps it would lower the morale of those still working). Some techs used their week for roadtrips, to see the rest of the territory and maybe Alaska too. Some techs flew back to their hometowns for a week back in civilization. For most of the summer, I wasn't sure what I wanted to do. Backpacking along a trail in a nearby national park sounded appealing, but I didn't have a good tent to use. The idea occurred to me to take a tarp instead of a tent and just build a shelter for myself each night along the trail. After all, I've always enjoyed the idea of building shelters from natural materials. Upon more reflection, however, it sounded like a lot of work to walk all day and then spend a few hours gathering branches and tying them together before I could sleep.

Finally, the solution struck me: instead of backpacking down a trail (which is a sort of curated wilderness in many cases), I could have the experience I wanted by walking into the woods with a week's worth of supplies and building a shelter to keep my bones warm and dry while I spent the days doing whatever I liked. It would be just me, nature, and a bunch of gear because I'm not an experienced survivalist by any means. As I pitched this idea to my coworkers, logistical issues were raised and safety concerns were voiced (it was bear season, after all), but ultimately I got the impression that this was the first time in the camp's memory that such a vacation had been attempted, and, being scientists, everyone was interested to see how it would play out.

Graphical Updates

My laptop computer has begun to show its age in various ways; things have started to run more slowly and buggily, and it crashes more often than it used to. Since I have entered a relatively static residential situation, I decided to make the leap to using a desktop computer. I did some research, ordered the parts, and put everything together with my brother's help and only a little bit of smoke and melted wire. Being new, this desktop should be a big step forward in computing power compared to my laptop. I'm looking forward to running games at higher graphics settings than I ever thought I would be able to use.

My real-life visuals have also received an upgrade. Over the past couple years, I started to notice that I couldn't read far-away road signs as well as I once could. A few months ago, I tried on my brother's glasses just for goofs and was surprised to see that everything became clearer and sharper. After an eye exam last Saturday and a few days of waiting, I now have my first pair of glasses. It has been a good week.

Wheel Bugs

Wheel bugs have a very legitimate claim to their name; they are true bugs (order Hemiptera) and they have a protrusion on their back that looks like a wheel. They are predators on caterpillars and other such creatures, so they are described as beneficial insects, like ladybugs.

Like other true bugs, wheel bugs have piercing-sucking mouthparts; they stab prey and inject enzymes that dissolve tissue, then suck it all up. When provoked by humans, this stab-and-inject routine apparently turns into one of the more painful insect bites one might have the misfortune to experience. The field guide I was consulting says the pain generally lasts for ten days, but followed with "In the case of multiple bites, the discomfort gradually decreases over six to nine months."

Having read that, I think I'd rather have ladybugs in my garden.

Fun in the Sun

Recently, I've gotten into the habit of wearing sunglasses. I've spent a lot of my life under the sun, but I'm not very keen on cranial adornment, so sunglasses (and hats too) haven't been on the menu until now. I suppose I always just squinted.

The big change, I suppose, is work that requires me to drive around on sunny days, and squinting or looking away while behind the wheel seems like a bad idea. That being said, I've found a new appreciation for sunglasses while on foot as well. I walk east to get to work in the morning and west to get home, so it's nice to not be blinded both ways.

In a few more months, I might even start wearing a hat instead of shading my eyes with a hand.

Scientific Integrity

I recently got a subscription to the magazine Popular Science and was disturbed to find a two-page ad for a water distillation machine that is said to produce healthier water by increasing the hydrogen bond angle of the molecule. This high-energy water supposedly cures all sorts of diseases and keeps its drinkers in peak physical condition.

Now, this product might sound bogus because it's too good to be true or it's chemically unviable or it lacks proof of efficacy, or all of the above. In the case of this water machine, the ad is full of red flags beyond the basics, from ridiculous claims (drinking this water will multiply the battery life of your watch tenfold) to earnest assurances that it is not a con (the creator of this device received a grade of 100% in his college engineering course). An attempt is even made to turn scientifically-grounded criticisms of the product into a selling point: "Like Thomas Paine, the author of Common Sense, anyone not generating controversy isn't doing much of anything."

An advertisement like this is perhaps itself a test for common sense, but while the untruth of it may be clear upon reading or investigating the claims made, the larger problem for me is that my trust and interest in Popular Science has taken a severe hit. Printing ads like this in a scientifically-inclined magazine is either reckless or mercenary, and I can't think of any positive explanation for it. I suppose the 'popular' in the name of the magazine has greater emphasis than the 'science'.

Wall Art

As the stocking and decoration of my apartment nears completion, one living room wall remains blank and lonely. The chairs and couch in the room are facing this wall, so it would be a good place to put a TV or fireplace, but I doubt I would use the former and I doubt my landlord would appreciate the latter.

Since many of the items in my apartment came from large retailers such as Amazon and Target, I looked up 'art' on Amazon to see if they had anything interesting to place on the wall, but everything that I saw was about as soulless and uninteresting as you might expect mass-produced art retailed by a large corporation to be. A replica of a famous painting might do nicely, I suppose.

Alternatively, I could leave the wall blank; in a way--not a particularly inspiring way--a work of art all by itself.

Home Cooking

In the past few years, I've been trying to slowly expand the list of things I can cook. Staples like rice and pasta were among the earliest items in my mental recipe book, and poached eggs are a highlight added last year.

After enjoying cooking with cast iron in the Yukon, I've acquired a cast iron skillet of my own for all frying purposes. I'm certainly attracted to the idea of a pan being imbued with all the flavors it encounters over time. Experiments with steak have been tasty, but not really restaurant quality. Burgers seem to be much easier. In fact, after making my first simple burger, adding nothing but ketchup and a slice of cheese, I became impressed by how bland and dry McDonald's burgers are. Maybe it's something about mass production. Alternatively, overcooking burgers is probably a good way to avoid food poisoning liability.

Insect Sleep

When people talk to a pest control technician, they generally expect that the technician will know a lot about pests. This is very reasonable, but knowing things about stuff doesn't happen automatically. Earlier today, I was trying to think of questions people might ask me that I wouldn't know the answers to, and I eventually found myself wondering-- do insects sleep?

A quick web search suggests that insects do indeed sleep; having a central nervous system seems to be one of the major prerequisites for sleeping and insects do check that box. There have been several experiments in insect sleep-- in one instance, researchers kept a vial of fruit flies awake by regularly tapping on the glass. When the tired flies were finally left alone, they were much less active than flies in another vial that was undisturbed. I can just imagine meetings in this lab to brainstorm how to keep flies awake. Apparently, a later insect sleep study found that caffeine would also have done the job.

Motivational Poem

The first best time to plant a tree

Is twenty years ago or so

The next best time to plant a tree

Is right today, then watch it grow

The motivation from this verse

Is strong until the thought begins

The third best time to plant a tree's

Tomorrow, so just do it then

Layering

Working outdoors is a great way to develop appreciation for the power of the sun. When I was in the Yukon, we slept in a few hours past dawn and then started work at 7am; the temperature was usually still around freezing at this point. As the sun got higher, things started to warm up (moving around helped with warmth too) and by mid-afternoon it could be almost t-shirt weather.

This, then, is where I was introduced to the art of layering-- while a single heavy jacket may be fine at a constant cold temperature, being toasty in the morning without being toasted in the afternoon required, in my experience, four or five thin layers that were all worn at the start of the day and successively removed and tied around the waist. A warm hat and gloves usually came off around 11am.

Currently, in the South Carolina winter, three layers is the most I ever need, but the same concept applies. I'm assuming that when summer rolls around, I'll start my day with just one layer and have nowhere to go from there.

Fast and Slow

Some weeks go by fast, others seem to last forever. What makes the difference?

I remember noticing this effect on vacations when I was in middle school. If we went somewhere, the first day would stretch on and on, the second day would be a bit faster, and things would keep speeding up until it was all over. If this is true, it could be novelty that makes time seem slower; if there's more interesting stuff going on, each event is remembered as special and unique, but when habits take over and each day is the same, time flies by with any bumps.

In the past few years, I've created many time bumps for myself by going to new places and doing new things, and there certainly are a lot of memories to fill out those years. I hope that as I go forward I can keep finding ways to find novelty and treat each day as something precious.

Raising Standards

I heard a McDonald's ad on the radio the other day that focused on the new quarter-pounder burger that is cooked right after you order it. Specifically, this on-the-spot cooking with fresh beef makes for a 'hotter, juicier burger', which certainly sounds nice. However, a disclaimer at the end of the ad adds 'hotter and juicier compared to previous quarter-pounder', which really changes everything because I've eaten pieces of cardboard that were hotter and juicier than a McDonald's quarter-pounder.

Now, this isn't to say I don't enjoy McDonald's food, but affordability is their big selling point in my eyes. Will a juicier burger cost more? If so, who will be taking the cost? In a similar vein, I've been irritated recently by a tagline in Food Line radio ads: 'Raising Our Standards Without Raising Our Prices'. Does that mean they're paying their employees less, or have they found cheaper sources that are somehow higher quality? In a situation like this, I'd prefer they keep their standards low.

I've enjoyed having music on the radio while driving around, but I'm still looking for an alternative because listening to ads that are blatantly deceptive gets tiring after a while.

Theater Luxury

One thing I've enjoyed about working in pest control is the chance to see things I wouldn't come across in my free time. I got to go back behind the pins at a bowling alley and see the whole mechanism that sets up pins and returns balls, and just a few days before that I went on the roof of a mall, a vast expanse of flat roofing punctuated by ventilation shafts.

Today, I went to a theater, and everything was fairly familiar until I reached the second-level boxes. This was clearly where top patrons of the arts got to sit-- just outside the entrance on this level was an exclusive lounge full of paintings and tasteful furniture. When I opened the door to the first box, I found myself in a small dressing room complete with a place to sit, a coat-rack, and a table with a few programs and a bowl of mints. From this room, another door opened onto the box itself, an ideal location both to see and be seen. With any luck, my future life will involve going to the theater every now and then, but I can't see myself ever being in a position to occupy a theater box with its own dressing room. I considered trying a mint while I was there, but I thought that would be unprofessional.

Elevator vs Stairs

Most of today's high-rise buildings offer a choice between an elevator and stairs. Sometimes, the choice is clear; if there's a fire, you need to take the stairs, and if you're in a wheelchair, you probably need to take the elevator. For me personally, having to go up more than three stories is about the point where I'll take the elevator unless I'm actively looking for exercise.

In the past, I've had fun racing down stairs to see if I could get to the ground floor faster than friends in an elevator. For a fair contest, you begin at the fourth or fifth floor and start running as soon as the elevator-summoning button is pressed. The next level of challenge, of course, is to race an elevator up, but I haven't gotten there yet.

Historical Prose

In my mind, reading history is like eating whole-grain bread; it's not always as appetizing as other sorts of reading, but it feels healthy and with enough exposure you can get used to it. To begin my forays into history, I got some books about ancient Rome. It's not a bad starting point because there are so many works not only by modern historians, but also by contemporaries, dealing with the two big questions of the Roman empire: what made Rome great, and what made Rome stop being great? Of course, the great historians themselves put it much more eloquently. Polybius, a 2nd century B.C. Greek politician who was himself conquered by the Romans, says the following:

"For the extraordinary nature of the events I decided to write about is in itself enough to interest everyone, young or old, in my work, and make them want to read it. After all, is there anyone on earth who is so narrow-minded or uninquisitive that he could fail to want to know how and thanks to what political system almost the entire known world was conquered and brought under a single empire, the empire of the Romans, in less than fifty-three years-- and unprecedented event? Or again, is there anyone who is so passionately attached to some other marvel or matter that he could consider it more important than knowing about this?

The content of history, then, is enough to recommend its investigation, but I have also found myself enjoying the style in which these histories are written. Long sentences organized by commas and semicolons bring together a variety of ideas and create a logical flow that can be very satisfying to follow, even if it does take reading some passages more than once. Also, as with most things, practice makes it easier. The following sentence from Gibbon's history gives an verbal flourish to plain facts that is like spreading honey on your whole-grain toast.

"Nor was the legion destitute of what, in modern language, would be styled a train of artillery. It consisted in ten military engines of the largest, and fifty-five of a smaller size; but all of which, either in an oblique or horizontal manner, discharged stones and darts with irresistible violence."

To make a long story short, I feel that a bit of history has made a wholesome addition to my reading routine. In other news, I still don't eat whole-grain bread.

Generic Cereal

When I first started grocery shopping on my own, one of the things that surprised me most was how expensive most cereal was; you could shell out four dollars for a box that empties surprisingly quickly, especially if you have a big bowl.

From the ingredients, you wouldn't think cereal has a reason to be expensive, and the existence of generic cereals bears this point out. All the major cereal brands have been imitated at about half the price, and the sweetness of saving money balances any taste difference in my mind. The most extremely generic cereal I've had is Tesco Everyday Value Cornflakes, costing a staggering 31 pence for a 500g box. Either the UK government subsidizes basic foodstuffs or Kellogg's is printing money with their $3.99 cornflake option.

To top it all off, I find the names of generic cereals very endearing. Toasty-Os and Fruity-Os top the list of my favorite cereal names, followed by the lengthy names describing the shape and material of well-known brands (chocolate rice clumps and so on). There's always more to say on the topic of generics, but for now I'm off to enjoy a bowl of Honey Nut Toasted Oats Cereal.

Bedtime Habits

It's said that a nighttime routine helps you get to sleep faster since your body will begin to recognize the patterns around bedtime and act accordingly. I'm fortunate to generally fall asleep fairly quickly, but a few pre-sleep habits I've gotten into coincide with some of the quickest falling-asleep times I've ever measured.

I start thinking about bed approximately half an hour before I get into it. Once I get up to brush my teeth, the nighttime routine is past the point of no return. After brushing, I change into pajamas and check that the doors are locked and the stove is off. Finally--and this is important--I take a drink of water or two. Sometimes it almost feels like a mild compulsion, and if I wait more than thirty seconds or so between drinking water and getting into bed, I feel like taking another drink to keep the pattern fresh. With all this complete, I can turn off the lights, turn on my alarms and an audiobook (listening to something keeps me from thinking overmuch), and go to sleep.

I very much look forward to lying in bed and drifting off, so to get this feeling more often, a new element has been added to my nighttime routine: I wake up after about two hours and get to enjoy being groggy for a few minutes and falling asleep all over again.

Mosquito Swatting

It's said that some early European explorers of northern Canada were driven insane by the inescapable swarms of biting flies and mosquitoes. During my summer in the Yukon, we were better equipped than these explorers could have been, but learning to live with the clouds of flying insects was still an ordeal. Mosquitoes were the main issue in the valley we inhabited. They have many ways of identifying potential targets; for example, they are attracted to carbon dioxide, so unless you can hold your breath indefinitely, there's no good way to hide from them.

If you're moving fast, mosquitoes will have a hard time landing on you, and wind also provides a welcome relief from flying insects. Surprisingly, climbing trees will get you away from all but the most determined mosquitoes, so I suppose they must prefer to hang out near the ground. In general, we used wearable bug nets to keep biting to a minimum; even then, the buzzing cloud that surrounds your head can test the limits of one's patience.

For the first couple weeks, I would swat at mosquitoes, but past a certain point manual control seems pointless. With hundreds of mosquitoes in the air around you, it doesn't make sense to spend your energy going after individuals. That being said, we did have an unofficial competition at camp to see who could get the most mosquitoes with one swat. While I was sitting in the woods watching squirrel territories, I would keep an eye out for groups of four mosquitoes or more that had landed on me close together, usually on my knees where the dark material had attracted them. Over the weeks, I was excited to announce my milestones as I got five mosquitoes at once (a sort of rolling swipe) and then six mosquitoes at once (a fingers-spread swat on the knee). There were a few moments where I might have gotten more, but only numbers that could be verified by mosquito bodies or marks on the hand were counted.

Ultimately, seven mosquitoes at once was my record, which I am pretty happy with. A few weeks later, a grad student managed to take out ten mosquitoes with one swat, and nobody came close to that afterward. The days grew colder near the end of summer and the swarms of mosquitoes thinned out. Perhaps one day I'll again be in an environment where ten or more mosquitoes might land on a hand-sized portion of myself; until then, I must be content to bide my time and train.

Posthumous Careers

I was browsing through IMDb the other day when I saw a hyperlinked reference to Virgil, great Latin poet and author of the Aeneid. I followed the link and was surprised to find an IMDb page with several writing credits, including one for a movie currently in production.

It does make sense, I suppose, to give credit to writers of bygone eras when you're basing a movie or TV show on their work. Homer and Chaucer have healthy IMDb pages, each having inspired their fair share of films, but all the old writers I could think of are dwarfed by Shakespeare, who has 1342 writing credits, 49 soundtrack credits (all for lyrics, I believe), and 5 'miscellaneous crew' credits-- I'm not sure what happened there.

Sir Thomas Malory, I was impressed to see, was even nominated for a Hugo award for his work as a writer on the 1982 movie Excalibur. I don't think Shakespeare ever got nominated for a Hugo award, but the brilliant thing with the posthumous careers these writers carry on is that there's always the chance for more recognition in the future.

Car Dealer Ads

A lot of the ads I hear on the radio are for a handful of major car dealerships around Charleston. As far as I can tell, they perpetually have major discounts and deals going on-- first there was a special Christmas sale, then a New Year's event, then Presidents' day sales that stretch to fill the whole month of February. In general, you can get a new car for $4000-6000 less than the sticker price by trading in your old car, spending your tax return on a new car, or just showing up with a decent credit rating.

A few factors make me distrust these ads. For a start, loud voices and aurally abrasive sound effects put me in a bad mood within the first few seconds of most dealership ads. Secondly, car salespeople as a group don't have a great reputation for honesty, and from the style and content of their ads, it seems that none of the local dealerships are trying to set themselves apart from this stereotype. Also, the focus on affordability rings hollow in a system where most corporations prioritize profit; a discount is much more likely to be a sales tactic than a good deal.

In any case, I'm happy to add these dealership ads to my list of advertisements that make me less likely to do business with a company. Overall, I'm surprised that with the amount of money people spend on advertising, so many ads come across as empty and annoying.

Comic Quality

I read the comics in the daily newspaper whenever I get the chance, and while I'm certainly entertained, I rarely find myself actually laughing at a comic. Out of the thirty or so comics on the two-page spread, there are maybe three or four that I look forward to as probably being funny. I'm sure that other comics appeal to other people's senses of humor, but it also seems very possible that, given the requirement to produce one comic a day, it's impossible for the average cartoonist to think of a great idea for every strip.

I can't really think of a good solution for this-- rerunning a few pages of Calvin and Hobbes each day would be fun, but even that would get old after a while. In a lot of ways, it seems to me that the comics with the most longevity are the ones that focus on characters over jokes. Anyone can run out of punchlines, but comics with well-developed characters are more self-sustaining, and a lot of humor eventually comes from the unique actions and perspectives of these characters. The best of example of this that I can think of is Peanuts: most individual strips are not particularly funny, but overall it is one of my favorite comics. Humorous personalities developed over years of daily strips carry the comic past a collection of jokes to something much more meaningful.

Dryer Lint

Dryer lint is a sort of magic; clothes are put in the dryer and clothes and lint come out. Classic philosophers might suggest that lint is produced ex nihilo, but the modern conclusion must be that the lint is subtracted from the clothes being dried, which in turn suggests two things. First, my clothes must be getting thinner every time I dry them, and I suppose that if I kept drying them indefinitely, they would disappear entirely.

This is very similar to the way rock works; igneous rock (the clothes) is ground down to dust (the lint), which is then compacted into sedimentary and metamorphic rock and so on. The second conclusion, then, if lint follows the pattern of rock, is that it should be possible to recycle dryer lint into new fabric (felt maybe?) and continue the cycle. None of this is empirical, of course, but that just means the logic is purer, right?

Fresh Starts

In general, I like fresh starts. If I leave a book I've read partway through or a video game I've started but not finished and then come back later, I'll often start the whole thing over to get a unity of experience not possible with on-and-off consumption. In the past few years, I've enjoyed traveling to and living in new places, getting set up and getting into a new routine.

Of course, the problem with always starting things is that you less frequently get around to finishing things, which is possibly even more fulfilling. I don't believe that I'll ever stop starting things, but there are at least a few short-term habits in my life that I'm trying to turn into long-term habits so that I can get the payoff of a thing well finished.

Also, I'm not going back to the start of the Witcher games because it took me forever to play the first two.

Fun With Foraging

I've been interested in plants for a while now, but that doesn't automatically transfer into actual knowledge about plants. The goal for someone who is interested in plants, I suppose, is to be one of those people who can walk through a forest and recognize all the species by sight and smell, and know their uses as well.

Spending time in the Yukon was an unexpected boon in this matter because there are relatively few plant species (and less biodiversity in general) in such northern environments. In the valley where we worked, for example, there were only two types of trees to keep track of-- if it had needles, it was a spruce tree, and if it had leaves, it was a poplar. With the help of a good field guide, then, my dream of knowing most of a forest could be realized thanks to subarctic simplicity.

I was happy to find that many of the local plants were edible, in part or in whole. Fireweed, the official flower of the Yukon, is the perfect starter for anyone interested in foraging-- it is visually distinct, very common (at least where we were), and every part of it can be eaten, though the young shoots and flowers are probably the tastiest. Several other plants were eventually added to the pool of things I could snack on while in the woods: a few berries, a few flowers (rose petals are generally pretty good), and several sorts of leaves were on the menu.

There were also several local plants that were very poisonous, which made things more interesting. It certainly provided an incentive for accurate identification. There was a type of purple flower you couldn't eat that would make you hesitate to seek out the type of purple flower you could eat, and so on. Again, a good field guide was a real lifesaver.

At many points, I wondered if I had learned enough to survive for a few days on foraging alone. There was, after all, a lot of fireweed around. I never got to test this, but perhaps that is for the best.

Simple Ramen

I grew up with ramen noodles in Nigeria, specifically Indomie, a brand that I just learned comes from Indonesia. Apparently Indomie introduced instant noodles to Nigeria in the 1990s and now has the largest instant noodle factory in Africa there. In college in Atlanta, I was introduced to more gourmet types of ramen, with all sorts of vegetables and fancy meats, and maybe an egg or something. The recipe below is the start of my attempts to have fancy ramen with minimal effort.

Ingredients
5 C water
2 packs instant noodles
2 C frozen vegetables
1 can Vienna sausages (the canned kind)

Put water on to heat in pot and add vegetables. Chop up Vienna sausages and add to pot. When water boils, add instant noodles. Cook for 3 minutes, remove from heat, and add seasoning packets.

So far I haven't found a shortcut for putting an egg in.

Post Poem

Every day at one o'clock one might be booned to see
One's postal box be filled via a postal employee
One's often joyed with envelopes but frequent dulls the keen
When every mail is spam that has been molded by machine

Simple Hot Drinks

Over the years, I have come to the conclusion that I like drinking hot drinks but not making hot drinks. Just having to boil water as a first step makes the average hot drink more complicated to prepare than the average cold drink.

Buying hot drinks is, of course, an option, but as many people have calculated, costs add up quickly if you make a habit of it. What I need to find, then, is a tasty hot drink that I can prepare at home with minimal time and effort.

Hot chocolate is a good place to start-- using a mix, preparing hot chocolate is as simple as adding powder to boiling water and stirring. However, the real giants of the hot drink world are tea and coffee.

If simplicity is the goal, any drink that needs to have milk or sugar added won't cut it. With these rules, herbal tea seems like a good place to start. Without the influence of a sweetener, it can be fun to explore the tastes of different leaves and plant parts. Ultimately, my journey has led me to Twinings English Breakfast tea (a black tea) as a pleasantly generic hot drink that can be made with very little effort. I have a few herbal teas for niche situations.

When you take a step back, though, plain water is still the champion of simplicity. It tastes pretty good too.

Dog Encounters

Welcome to Micah's Dog Blog, your one stop shop for canine accounts. I wrote recently about the large number of dogs I have been exposed to recently; here are a few encounters from this week.

Most dogs will bark when you ring the doorbell. Some will stand up with their paws up against the door or a window to get a better view. The dogs at one house I visited took things to the next level: there were at least four of them, in various sizes, and when I rang the doorbell they took turns flinging themselves against the door, adding loud thumps to the usual chorus of barking. A glass window in the door allowed me to see this spectacle, and also served as a testament to the considerable strength glass can have.

One particularly nice house that I went to had two statues of greyhounds flanking the front door. Later, when I went around to the backyard, I saw the two greyhounds that presumably inspired the statues, jumping around in excitement. The odd thing was that they were completely silent; they didn't bark once the whole time I was there (maybe it's a greyhound thing). They were both large and friendly, but it felt very strange to have a dog jumping around me while not making any noise. I could certainly get used to it.

Finally, I met a guest dog at a beach house. The dog's owner had just been staying there a couple days and was on their way out as I was on my way in. A fence enclosed the front yard and the dog seemed reluctant to leave it. I was waiting outside the fence, but the owner said, "Go ahead, she won't hurt you." I thought that was reasonable enough; after all, it was a relatively small dog. I stepped through the fence gate and the dog immediately ran at me and bit me in the leg. I was impressed to find that, even with my trouser leg in the way, the dog had managed to break the skin. Afterwards, the dog consented to leave with her owner, whose only comment was that I must have had something on me that smelled interesting.

Field Station Lunch

When I was in the Yukon, I found myself eating a lot more than I had in college. Working outdoors, I suppose, does make exercise easier. There wasn't a lot of time for breakfast, so I usually just had a bowl of cereal in the morning, but lunch was more substantial. I ended up eating the same thing for lunch more often than not, because it was simple, warm, and filling.

1. Toast 4 bagel halves

2. Fry 3 eggs

3. Put the eggs on the bagels

4. Grate some cheese over everything

5. Top it all off with ketchup

The fourth, eggless bagel half would have some jam or Nutella spread on to be my dessert course.

Head Blanket

One of the habits I picked up in the Yukon was sleeping with a blanket wrapped around my head. It made a lot of sense at the time, since the two main obstacles to sleep were the cold and the light. Most nights, I slept in a sleeping bag inside another sleeping bag, with a small blanket up top so that only my nose and mouth were exposed. On colder nights, I would wear a jacket and a beanie as well, with my head blanket adjusted so that only my nose was open to the elements, nobly sacrificing its comfort for the ability to breathe.

Now that I'm back in the south, I still sleep with a head blanket whenever my ears are anything other than warm. As an added bonus, I get the feeling of fabric over my eyes, which is for some reason oddly comforting. I don't need to be quite as cocooned as I was out in the wild, but I'm happy to still enjoy the coziness of a head blanket.

Dog Experiences

One big difference between Nigerian and American culture which has recently struck me is that while dogs in Nigeria are treated like other domesticated animals, a huge portion of Americans keep dogs for companionship, in some cases to the level of considering them family members. A quick Google search suggests that 44% of American households have a dog.

Now I don't dislike dogs, but for a number of reasons I find it hard to love them. I've experienced several of the less appealing aspects of dogs-- the smell, the noise, and the disruption, and haven't had the positive moments and bonding experiences that clearly make dogs worthwhile for so many people. During my formative years, most of the dogs I came across were guard dogs. While I was in college, dogs weren't in the picture for the most part, aside from therapy dogs during exam weeks.

Working in pest control, I meet several dogs each day, but I'm always a stranger to them, so hearing a bark upon approaching a house usually means things will be more difficult. At about a quarter of the pet-containing households I've visited, dogs have been barking loud enough to make talking with the homeowner impractical, or are constantly attempting escape so that the homeowner can only open the door a crack and has to talk while restraining their pet. Now that I think of it, perhaps this is largely a problem of training.

I'm sure that anyone whose work involves walking up to people's houses has a system to deal with defensive dogs. The advice I was given is to whistle a few times before entering fenced yards to bait out any canine aggression that might be within. It works just about every time, and usually sets off the dogs next door as well.

PPE

I have a longstanding fascination with required PPE (personal protective equipment). To me, each new piece of PPE that I use is a sort of milestone on my quest for a biology career. I used safety glasses in high school, and my first year of college introduced me to nitrile gloves, which I still enjoy wearing when I get the chance. When I got properly started in a research lab, a lab coat became my uniform, which was a real dream come true. I wore a helmet while climbing trees in the Yukon, which was a bit of a departure from the dangers of a lab, but it was nice to add some headgear to my list.

Today, I got my first respirator as part of my pest control job. It's easier to put on and adjust than I expected, though I expect wearing it for long periods of time would get old, especially because with a passive respirator like this one, your lungs have to do the extra work of pulling air through the filters. In any case, I'm very happy to have a new piece of PPE to use. The next step on my path is uncertain, but I suppose a hazmat suit is probably the most likely.

A Friendly Wasp

So there I was, sitting in the forest watching a squirrel territory, as is my wont. It was the height of wasp season, which put me on edge a bit, but fortunately it was also the height of mosquito season, so I was fully kitted out with a head net, gloves, and long socks so that no skin was open to insects. I even had flagging tape wrapped around my ankles to deter the mosquitoes determined enough to bite through my socks.

With this setup, then, I sat entirely protected from the insect menace. It was a pretty good morning, all things considered. I hadn't seen much squirrel activity, but there was a chipmunk that ran by and barked at me, which was fun. The sun was just beginning to warm the woods when I heard a wasp buzzing around.

Of course, I wasn't worried. It just so happened that I was sitting near some plants that the wasp was investigating. After a little bit, the wasp began to investigate me, flying around my head; the buzz was a bit irritating, but wearing a head net provides a remarkable sense of security.

Soon, the wasp began to land on me. This wasn't ideal, but every piece of my clothing was tucked into another piece of clothing, so I still had nothing to worry about. I kept sitting there with the wasp landing on me, feeling very at one with nature.

After another couple minutes, I noticed that I couldn't see or hear the wasp any more. I supposed that it had flown off somewhere. It was then that I felt a little tingle on my stomach. I was wearing at least three layers of clothing, but it was definitely something right up against my skin.

Now, if I had had time to think things out and consult a few friends about what to do when a wasp is under your shirt, I may have acted differently, but in the heat of the moment I decided that the best move would be to act quickly and crush the wasp against myself. This was not the best move. When I hit my stomach, the tingle turned into several sharp jabs as the wasp became enraged but not incapacitated. I rolled over on the ground and lifted my three layers of shirts and sweaters as quickly as I could, but there was nothing on my stomach except a few stinging spots.

There was a second of calm before I felt movement down my leg. In an amazingly fluid motion I jumped up and removed my jeans. The wasp flew from my leg back up under my shirt, prompting a mad flutter on my part, and then it sped out again from under my shirt and flew off into the trees, apparently none the worse for wear.

It may be a long time before I let a wasp land on me again, head net or no.

The Call of Sleep

Sleep and the lack of it are powerful things. On any given night, if I've slept less than 10 hours, I feel strongly upon waking up that staying in bed and sleeping more is a good course of action. Fortunately, the more motivated parts of my mind can convince me to get out of bed on workdays, but I like to enjoy weekend mornings by setting my alarm unnecessarily early and then being able to ignore it when the time comes.

A part of this mentality may have slipped into my regular sleep, and many nights I find myself waking up at 1 or 2 AM and being able to enjoy falling asleep again. There may be more to examine about my sleep habits, but I'm about to fall asleep now and I can't think of anything to say except I'm looking forward to it.

Cashier Reactions

One sort-of-social interaction that I've come to enjoy is the process of taking groceries through a checkout line rather than using self-checkout machines. One reason for this is that I'm not confident in my ability to correctly identify and weigh fruits and vegetables, but in some of the more isolated periods of my life, talking to a cashier has been a nice social jolt without the trouble of engaging in a full conversation.

Cashiers, I hear, have a very monotonous job, and it seems that if they've been in that line of work for any length of time, they've seen enough to not be surprised by any customer purchases. For the most part, I've found this to be true. When I was going through checkout one day with at least a dozen microwave meals, I was worried that the cashier would make a snarky comment or at least non-verbally judge my life situation. I got no such reaction. When I was going through checkout one day with ten or eleven bottles of grape juice (about 5 gallons total), I hoped that the cashier would be interested, or at least raise an eyebrow. No interest was forthcoming. In my quest for a cashier reaction, I should have, of course, observed the old stories and known that the moment would come when it was least looked for.

Today, I was doing pest control in a relatively remote suburb and went to the nearest grocery store for my lunch break. I had, in fact, packed a lunch, but I needed to find a restroom, and a grocery store is as good a place as any. I was on my way out of the store when I thought that it would be rude to use the facilities without buying something, so I looked around for a good snack.

It was by these events that I approached the checkout counter with a single banana. The cashier not only smiled, but laughed; "Just one banana?" I was pretty happy myself, and I got my debit card ready for a transaction that would surely incur more processing fees than the banana was worth. The cashier laughed again when she saw that my total charge was 18 cents. It's difficult to find something cheaper than that at a grocery store--a smaller banana, perhaps, but nothing else comes to mind.

In any case, I have rarely had such a dynamic exchange with a cashier. When she waved goodbye with an "Enjoy your banana," I even remembered to say "Thanks, have a good day" instead of "Thanks, you too." The moral of this story is ambiguous, but I am happy to learn that cashiers are not all impassive.

Bus Stop Encounter

A few months ago, I was waiting for a Megabus that would take me from Indianapolis to Atlanta. It was a hot day, and the bus was late, and most of the people who had been waiting at the stop when I first arrived had left to sit inside until the bus arrived. Just me and a middle-aged lady remained on the roadside.

We started a conversation from our common ground: the weather (a famous staple) and the fact that we were waiting for a bus.The lady talked about times in the past that she had been let down by Megabus and Greyhound. A few months ago, she had planned a bus trip but had missed the bus, and was left with no option but to eat the cost and not go on the trip. She was obviously keen on catching this bus; after all, we were the only two left standing in the sun after forty minutes of waiting.

I kept looking up the road, expecting the Megabus to show up at any moment. There were a lot of city buses going by, and several of them stopped in front of us, but we stood back and kept waiting for the Atlanta-bound bus.

About an hour after the bus had been scheduled to arrive, the lady said, "Look! There's the Megabus!" I looked, and there it was, trundling up the road behind two city buses. I picked up my backpack and turned to get in line at the bus doors. When I looked back to see if my new acquaintance was behind me, I saw that she was stepping onto one of the city buses, carrying her bags with her. I wasn't certain what to think, but surely she would realize the mistake once she showed the city bus driver her ticket or was asked to pay a bus fee. However, in just a few seconds, the doors closed and the city bus drove off, lady and luggage and all.

Is there something I should have done? Perhaps. I don't like the thought of this lady missing another trip because of a moment of confusion, and maybe I could have shouted something, but it was all over so quickly. I also wonder if it's possible that I misinterpreted events, but I can't think how. Maybe one or both of us was addled by the sun. In any case, I wonder what the next few minutes, hours, and days held for that lady. A bus stop encounter was all we had together, but for both of us separately, life goes on.

Wedding Advice

I went to a wedding recently-- as far as I can remember, the first wedding I've ever been to. There was, of course, lots of good food, an impressive amount of photos taken and many fun traditions to learn. The bride and groom got a lot of the same comments and questions through the day:
"How are you feeling?"
"Congratulations!"
"Has it sunk in yet that you're married?"

The groomsmen, who had a much simpler job, heard just one thing:
"Don't lock your knees."
"If you lock your knees while you're standing on stage, you'll probably faint."
"If you lock your knees and faint, you'll ruin the moment for the bride and groom."

It was a lot of pressure, to be sure, but everyone managed to get through the ceremony without collapsing. That probably means good luck or something along those lines.

Bear Encounters

My summer doing research in the Yukon involved a lot of interaction with squirrels, many meetings with chipmunks and hares, and more face time with bears than I expected. It was relatively common to see bears on the side of the road while driving, but viewing a bear from the safety of a vehicle feels somewhat detached; the three bear encounters I had on foot in the woods were a whole other bowl of porridge.

The first bear I met was foraging under a tree near the top of a hill my coworker and I were climbing. It turned to look at us and my mind went blank. I had a vague idea that I was supposed to say "hey bear" or something like that in a low, reassuring tone, but there was just a second of silence and then the bear turned and ran in the other direction. We quickly retreated back the way we had come.

After this first encounter, it was brought to my attention that there was a 40-minute bear safety video that all technicians were supposed to watch before working in the field-- this part of my training had somehow been passed over in the hectic first week I was there. The bear knowledge that I did have came from a children's sticker issued by the parks system:
If You See A Bear,
1. Don't run
2. Slowly back away
3. Go find an adult
The 40-minute video, in general, elaborated on these steps.

The second bear I met was in a particularly thick section of spruce forest where the young trees were close enough together that it was difficult at points to find a way through them. It was early in the morning and I was feeling sleepy until I saw up ahead that two dark pillars--more trees I thought at first--were in fact the two front legs of a bear that was looking at me. I've had underwhelming experiences with caffeine, but I can testify that seeing a bear while you're alone in the forest produces instant alertness. Fortunately, I had received training for every step of the typical bear encounter. I instantly forgot what to do and just stared silently back at the bear. After a second, it turned and ran in the other direction. After another second, I turned and power-walked back through the forest.

This pattern of bears avoiding humans is fortunately very common when the two species meet. I was told that, in general, bears treat humans like they treat other bears, keeping out of each other's personal space to avoid risky and unnecessary conflict. In most cases, the bear is aware of the human from far off and avoids them without the human ever knowing. There are, of course, things you can and shouldn't do that make bears more likely to attack.

My third bear encounter was much more intimate than the first two. I was sitting against a tree, watching a squirrel territory to see if other squirrels would invade and try to steal the home squirrel's food. I had been watching for about an hour when I heard a rustle behind me. I of course assumed that it was a squirrel, and I didn't want to turn around because any sudden movement on my part might frighten it off and keep it from acting naturally. I sat still, then, for a little bit, but I didn't hear any more rustling, so I turned around to see what the squirrel was up to. A large bear was on all fours about ten feet behind me. Since I was sitting on the ground, we were eye-to-eye, and it certainly didn't feel like an advantageous situation for me. The bear and I stared at each other for a few long seconds and then it turned and ran off, and I followed suit.

I feel fortunate both to have had the opportunity to meet bears in the wild and to have gotten through each encounter safely. Along with my other treasured experiences in the Yukon, I remember these three moments of sudden terror and a surging fight-or-flight response. There were, of course, other bear experiences of interest that summer; one afternoon, in fact, a bear got into our camp and broke into a couple of the wooden shacks we slept in. However, being out in the wild with no shelter and coming across a predator much more powerful than an unarmed human has a way of shifting perspectives. Looking back, it's an experience I'm glad to have had, but I would be happy if I never had it again.

Waiting Time

A valuable part of my day-to-day life is waiting time, moments when my only job is to sit or stand quietly and wait for something to happen. In my mind, this is different from not working-- while I have a good amount of time to relax, I'm usually still doing something. Perhaps the possibility of doing something productive makes relaxing time different from waiting time. In any case, waiting time lets me unwind and refocus in a very satisfying way.

In the past few weeks, the only real waiting time I can remember is waiting at crosswalks and sitting in a movie theater before the movie starts. In the past, I have enjoyed waiting times on public transportation and in line at the grocery store, but since I moved to Charleston I haven't needed to use a bus and the checkout lines at all the stores I've been to are too efficient to get much waiting done. Even the last two medical appointments I've gone to have had me in and out of the waiting room as quick as you like.

I remain hopeful, however; new opportunities to wait are around every corner.

Interior Design

One of the surprisingly fun parts of getting my own apartment has been furnishing it. I'm no design expert, of course, but I thought that if I laid out a few guidelines for myself, I could at least put together something that was visually consistent. The theme I settled on was simple, square designs; most stuff is wood and upholstery is blue or grey fabric. My accent color is sunshine yellow. The chair pictured below is the inspiration I had in mind when acquiring furniture.

For aesthetic (and financial) reasons, most of my household items and furniture are the basic model offered by large retailers. All of my video game experience tells me that this is the correct way to furnish a starter apartment, and I can upgrade when I reach the next level.

In some ways, I regret that I can no longer fit my worldly possessions into a suitcase and a backpack, but regular use of the How Would I Feel If Everything In My House Was Consumed By Flame test helps keep things in perspective.

Snow Day

I was happy to find that the current cold in Charleston is out of the ordinary-- today, a morning of freezing rain was followed by an afternoon of snow. In the past 10 years, I've had a few chances to play around in snow, but I think today was the first time in my memory I've gone outside while the snow itself is falling.

Falling snow isn't quite as soft as I expected. My outdoor adventure began well enough, and I enjoyed making a path through fresh snow and seeing the flakes drift around me. I turned to go back after about half an hour, about the same time that the wind started to pick up and the snow began to fall more heavily. I've heard about losing visibility during snowstorms, and while this might not exactly have been a blizzard, I gained a new appreciation for how much snow can get in your eyes. Fortunately, the few cars that were on the road were going slow enough that there was little danger for stumbling pedestrians. Overall, I'm happy to have had a new experience of snow that was mild enough to be balanced by a cup of hot chocolate back at home.

Charleston Winter

Way up north, where the day-stars dance
And the frost hangs crisp in the air
The snow grows deep and the warm things sleep
Underground, under ice cold and fair

In between, cities chug and steam
Under blankets of sleet and snow
Cold cars move through the salt-sown streets
People walk bundled to and fro

Here down south, where the sun shines bright
Neither ice nor snow's taken hold
The streets are clean and the grass is green
But with all that, it's still too cold