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.
Showing posts with label Stories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Stories. Show all posts
Monday, January 22, 2018
Tuesday, January 16, 2018
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.
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.
Tuesday, January 9, 2018
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.
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.
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