In my 24 years of living, I have maybe encountered 7 mosquitos in California. In the last month, I have probably been fed on, at least 700 times. Currently, I am simultaneously typing with one hand and scratching both feet with the other. My mistake was wearing Chacos on the drive back from Coldfoot with a healthy population of mosquitoes thriving in our car.

A month has gone by rather quickly. On my bike ride to work, I can see all sorts of wildflowers blooming-taking in the only three months of constant sunshine they will get all year. I, myself, am also trying to take in as much sun possible. I’ve spent a decent amount of time on Chena Hot Spring Road, dogsitting for a family who works in the office. Somehow, I always find myself picking up this kind of gig over the summer (flashback to Susanville). I’m extremely grateful to Chel Ethun, for allowing me to stay in her cozy house with her cozy dogs, Pickles and Anabelle. Side note: Pickles doesn’t actually eat pickles.

Pickles waiting for me to feed him in the morning.

Since AK is really big, we have a couple of field stations spread out throughout the state. Unlike the BLM office in Susanville, a lot of our sites are 7-12 hours away. So, our options are to camp, or stay at field stations. Most of my work this summer will be out of the Chicken Field Station in the small town of Chicken-it is super NICE! It is fully equipped with beds, wifi, hot water, showers, a full kitchen, a TV…the whole enchilada.

While I was in Chicken, I helped conduct wildlife and vegetation surveys at a reclaimed mine site. I worked with Casey Burns, the Wildlife Program Lead, and two contractors from the Salcha-Delta Soil and Water Conservation District (SWCD), Jeff Mason and Bryan Strong. We also had a UAF student, Renee Nowicki, act as our “residential entomologist.” We spent the first couple of days delineating four plots and one control, which all varied in reclamation year. The goal was to collect all of our data from small mammal traps, bird counts, line point intercept (LPI), grazing, scat count, pollinator, plot characteristics, and insect surveys. Our insect surveys entailed searching for ants and setting six bumble pots, traditionally called bee bowls, in each plot. For the ant search, I followed Renee around while we flipped rocks and searched for colonies. Then, she used an aspirator to suck them into a container through a tube! I wish I had a video of that! I spent a fair amount of time applying 100% deet all over my body, but somehow, it was not enough. However, I’m pretty sure that by the end of the summer, by body will naturally be producing deet, which will save me a lot of money for next year. On the drive back to Fairbanks, I got to see the Alaska Range for the first time! It was unlike anything I had ever seen before. It was so unbelievable. But, I didn’t take any pictures. Sorry.

The following week, I decided to join the crew for another week of surveying. This time, our site was thirty minutes south of Coldfoot, at Jubilee Mine. Unfortunately, on the morning of our second day, we had an eye injury, which required an immediate evacuation, and a stressful drive back on the Dalton. Luckily, I only hit one rough patch, and after six hours, we made it back to the ER in Fairbanks. The patient is doing well, and it was a non-life threatening accident. Enter mom rant HERE. Please be careful using bungee cords in the field. If it doesn’t reach, it’s not worth it. Eye injuries are very serious, so please be safe. End mom rant. I really wish I could have taken pictures of the drive on the way back, but the timing was, obviously, not appropriate. If I get a chance to go back north, I will definitely upload better pics. However, I was able to get a “I crossed the Arctic Circle on the Dalton Highway” tee.

Yukon River

I made it to the Arctic Circle!

Well, it’s no wonder time goes by quickly. I’ve spent the last 3 weeks moving around from Chel’s house to Chicken to Coldfoot. In the upcoming weeks, I have planned to attend an invasive species training workshop in Fairbanks and a sedge identification workshop in Anchorage. It’ll be my first time in Anchorage, so I am stoked!

On my personal time, I’ve been volunteering at the herbarium in the Museum of the North at UAF. Hopefully soon I can start volunteering at the entomology lab too! I have also been birding with a group at Creamers Field Migratory Waterfowl Refuge. Later, I have a botany trip planned with the Alaska Native Plant Society (ANPS). AND…I’ll be going to Denali soon! Basically, I’m slowly settling down some roots in Fairbanks, in hopes of staying here longer.

Here is a list of common plants I’ve seen near Fairbanks, Chicken, and Coldfoot…So won’t the real plant nerds, please stand up, please stand up (Eminem).

Astragalus alpinus

Mertensia paniculata

Polemonium acutiflorum

Polemonium pulcherrimum

Polemonium pulcherrimum

Cardamine purpurea

Epilobium angustifolium

Epilobium latifolium

Vaccinium uliginosum

Hedysarum alpinum

Potentilla norvegica ssp. monspeliensis

Cerastium beeringianum

Ledum palustre ssp. Groenlandicum

Hedysarum mackenzii

Oxytropis campestris

Potentilla spp.

Vaccinium vitis-idaea

Spirae beauverdiana

Cornus canadensis

Cornus Canadensis

Eriophorum spp.?

Salix alaxensis

Salix arbusculoides

Salix scouleriana

Salix pulcha

Gallium boreale

Betula neoalaskana

I find myself overwhelmed with how much there is to see and I think my writing reflects that. I apologize if I was all over the place, but I have a hard time keeping track of my days.

Let me begin by saying I am a New Yorker by birth and by heart. But, I cannot (and will not) go on and on about how great New York City is. For one thing, I am not a big fan of cities. For another, I grew up far from NYC–where dairy cattle, cornfields, vineyards, and old small towns dominate the landscape.

Through the CLM Internship Program I have found myself ~2,700 miles from home at a little place (~50,000 acres) called the Cosumnes River Preserve (CRP) in Galt, California. Much like the town that I grew up in, the name probably means very little to outsiders. What I did know before coming out here was that it was somewhere in the Central Valley and somewhere about 30 minutes south of Sacramento (a name I was familiar with). However, having never been further west than the Detroit Airport, this still did not mean a whole lot to me. What I soon found out was that it isn’t too awfully different from home. I have found all the cattle, corn, vineyards, and small towns you could ask for, but also so much more.

Here at the CRP we fall under the jurisdiction of the Bureau of Land Management’s Mother Lode Field Office which is in Folsom, California. If that sounds familiar, it may just be because a pretty famous country artist once wrote a pretty famous song about a prison there, but I digress. While the Mother Lode Field Office is quite substantial in terms of the area managed and the staff based at that office, the CRP is fairly small in comparison. As a partnership, there are many people involved here. That means that on a daily basis I get to interact not only with people from the BLM (my mentor included) but also with people from The Nature Conservancy and other partners. Nevertheless, the office is fairly small and we keep ourselves fairly busy.

There is no shortage of stuff that needs to be done. Managing riparian and wetland habitat for waterfowl, while also working to maintain and conserve habitat that is rare and imperiled in the Central Valley Region of California, is no small chore. Having just started on June 5th, before attending the Chicago Botanic Garden CLM Training Workshop, I am still learning the ins and outs of day-to-day operation here. However, one thing that has become clear, as my mentor likes to say, there is always more work to do. Working with a Youth Conservation Corps crew, providing trail maintenance, and planning for future projects are just a few things that have kept me busy. With more training in my future, I have my eyes set on getting out in the field and helping to control our invasive aquatic species– primarily water primrose (Ludwigia hexapetala) and a handful of other terrestrial and aquatic plants that make managing for native and natural wetland/riparian habitat difficult.

After quite a trek by car and some settling in, I have had interesting run-ins with wildlife, dealt with heat I never dreamed of, and learned so much in the first 2 weeks here at my new “home” that I cannot wait to see what the next 5 months bring. While I have mostly been preoccupied with training, I hope to have plenty more to post about next time (especially more about the beautiful flora and fauna).

-Tyler-

(BLM Mother Lode Field Office–Folsom, CA)

Cosumnes River Preserve–Galt, CA

Sunset on the hot California Delta

The MAIM (Modified AIM) crew and our mentor – Joanna Tjaden

It’s been a bit of a whirlwind, but I have now been living and working in Idaho for just over a month. I work in the Shoshone Field Office of the Bureau of Land Management as a range tech intern along with three other CBG interns and two crew leads. We don’t really have range (as far as I know) east of the Mississippi so I’m excited to learn more! Right now that means we are monitoring ground cover to learn more about sage grouse habitat, but next week we’ll wrap that up and move on to other projects. I’m particularly excited about going out with Idaho Fish and Game to look at insects and plant clearances (looking for sensitive plant species).

Davis Mountain Road

The landscape and climate is dramatically different from the hot, humid, and patchy forests of Southeastern Virginia where I worked before. I am still amazed at how far you can see here without hills, trees, or buildings to interrupt the view. It felt strange at first, but the incredible views and tiny wildflowers are winning me over.

Callochortus nuttallii (Sego Lily)

Eriogonum sp.

So far I’ve learned a lot! The first week or two included training in some important skills including first aid, defensive driving, changing a tire and how to recognize hazardous materials that might explode or kill you. Best of all though, I’ve picked up all kinds of useful information about the local flora and botany, more generally just from being surrounded by people who are excited about plants every day!

It’s week 4 of my internship with the BLM here in the beautiful Roseburg, Oregon and activities are in full swing! Seed collection season began just recently, and we (me and my co-intern, Mira) are kept busy by tracking down target plant species using previously recorded GPS data and determining if they are ready for seed collection. Not gonna lie, it’s probably one of my favorite things to do. I’ve gotten way better at reading maps, using GPS, and keying out inconspicuous-looking grasses—not to mention, I think I’m getting pretty great at driving the huge truck they let us use for field work. I’d just like to say that my appreciation for trucks has grown tenfold over the past month. Those things can drive over things that would probably destroy my little Altima. ArcGIS remains my greatest nemesis, but I’m confident that I’ll get better at it by the end of my five months. “Better” of course is a relative term, but let’s not dwell on that.

Bromus carinatus, one of the grasses we’ll be collecting seed from.

Calochortus coxii, one of our endemic plants.

Boss and co-intern looking out over the oak savanna as we prepare to trek down and remove invasive plants

Right now one of our bosses has us working on an awesome project to collect the seeds of plants that will help promote native pollinators in the North Bank Habitat Management Area. One thing I’ve come to learn throughout this is the truly fleeting nature of seed collection for many of the species we’re to collect. It all depends on the species and the location of the population; one week you can drive up a ridge and find a lovely almost-ripe population of Danthonia californica, and the next you can drive up to the same ridge and discover a sea of yellow husks! It’s certainly something that’s going to keep us on our toes for the rest of the season. If we’re going to collect enough seeds for the project, we’ll need to be out as often as possible hiking around and checking populations to determine readiness.

All in all, these past four weeks have been fantastic and I wouldn’t trade them for the world. I’ve learned a truly impressive number of new plants and picked up a whole new set of skills. I’ve become braver in my nature explorations and seen many beautiful things. I think my klutziness may even be decreasing.

I honestly can’t wait for what the rest of my time here has to offer.

Today I had the pleasure of going out in the field with Virginia, a botanist from the research branch of the Forest Service. We had many missions in mind for the day, some of which were accomplished. The main reason that we went to High Peak (near Mt. Ida, Arkansas) was to get a good picture of the woodland sunflowers in bloom, which grow almost in a monoculture in some areas of the open forest there.

Virginia has been monitoring the vegetation in areas of High Peak since 2011 when a lightning strike started a wildfire there, and the FS decided to let it burn instead of sending out the fire suppression team. Some people worried that the overstory trees would all die, but it turned out that one year later 95% had survived, as well as 33% of the understory trees less than 15 cm. This research has had real-life management implications, as the FS has let a few more low-intensity natural fires burn since then. The sunflowers were just starting to bloom at that elevation, so we didn’t get the majestic photo we had hoped for.

Woodland sunflowers (Helianthus divaricatus) beginning to bloom. Photo by Virginia McDaniel

We bushwacked around recording what species were present. We also found a fair number of crystals, which the Hot Springs area is famous for. We dragged a white piece of cloth to collect ticks for a researcher in Texas. Somehow no ticks ended up on the cloth, but at least 10 ended up on us! We were finding them the whole way home.

Tomorrow Virginia, my mentor Susan and I are heading to the Ozarks FS office to give another invasive species workshop, so V and I collected invasive plant specimens while we were out like kudzu, stiltgrass, sorecia lespedeza and autumn olive, as well as their native lookalikes. Luckily we didn’t find many out in the field– we had to go over by the Dollar General to find kudzu and I will be walking around my neighborhood tonight to find mimosa and nodding thistle.

Me with kudzu (Pueraria spp.) taking over trees by the Dollar General. Photo by Virginia McDaniel.

Until next time! Take care! -G

       Answering the call of nature presents an interesting challenge for CLM Interns and other outdoors people alike. The vast majority of our lives are spent in civilization where we feel comfortable and can achieve privacy easily, but when you are out in the woods or on the steppe, answering this call of nature may not come very… naturally. In order to dispel some of the awkwardness that comes with “going number two”, I wanted to write a blog post to educate fellow and future interns on a topic that isn’t frequently explored. I know it’s easy to be immature about this topic but we are no longer in grade school and frankly I think there are some worthwhile points that merit discussion. We all poo. I poo. You poo. Your mentor poos too. Get over it.

An Intro to Poo

What is a poo?
I’ll keep this brief. Poo is a combination of waste material and bacteria. It is mostly made of water (~75%) and the rest is all the bacteria that helped digest the food, fiber, waste material, etc. It is usually brown because of a compound called bilirubin, which is a pigment that comes from the breakdown of red blood cells in the liver and bone marrow.

What is fiber?
Dietary fiber is a carbohydrate and the undigested portion of food derived from plants. Basically, it adds bulk to your stool and make it easier to pass. Good sources of fiber include whole grains, nuts, fruits, and vegetables.

What does healthy poo look like?
Your poo is a troubleshooting tool. Just as we use species composition and alteration as indicators of streambank stability, we use our poo to tell us if we are properly nourished. Flushing without looking is like hiking to a mountaintop just to hike back down. You went through all that strain, but what about the view? Think of it like a check engine light in your car. If you don’t do something about it now, you might have bigger problems down the road. Feel free to consult the Bristol Stool Chart, a visual guide for stools. Ideally you want to achieve a Type 4 or 5, which are considered “normal”.

How often should one poo?
Everyone is a little different – but you should typically poo at least once a day. Signs of constipation include pooing only a couple of times a week, not ever feeling quite empty, and hard stool. On the other hand, going 5+ times a day is stepping into the realm of diarrhea. When this happens it is important to rehydrate your body to make up for lost fluid and to consume fiber to add bulk to your stool.

Poo Protocol

       This is a topic that I want to take rather seriously. Our work revolves around helping better manage the land, resources, and ecology around us. Careless pooing does exactly the opposite of that in that it adversely impacts environment quality and the aesthetics of the land we use to recreate and share with others. I suggest getting familiar with all Leave No Trace guidelines, but the ones concerning waste disposal are as follows:

1. Minimize the chance of water pollution
2. Minimize the spread of disease
3. Minimize aesthetic impact
4. Maximize decomposition rate

       The most practical method is to dig a hole and bury your poo. We always have a shovel in our truck for this very purpose. First and foremost, locate the toilet paper. Agree to keep it in one spot so you can all find it easily.  Find a private spot far away from water, trails, or campsites and dig a hole at least 6 inches deep. In desert environments, waste has a harder time breaking down so it is recommended to dig shallower holes (2-6 inches) to maximize decomposition. Once you finish your business, toss in the toilet paper and cover the hole completely and disguise it. Because we usually work in very remote public land, this method is adequate. In many popular, high-use areas however, you may be required to pack out your waste. Remember to sanitize/wash your hands afterwards!

Other methods

Toilet: . . . . .

Groover: I first saw one of these when I went on a float trip on the John Day River. It’s essentially the most miniature of porta-potties, a large canister with the sanitizing blue chemical in it and a toilet seat attachment. They’re called groovers because they used to not have the seat. Use your imagination. Here’s a good article about them.

Holding it in: So you decided to go this route, eh? Think you can make it a day until you get back into town? That’s cool, but keep this in mind — If you decide to hold it in, water will absorb back into your body, dehydrating your poo, making it harder, which can lead to unnecessary constipation. Also, because your brain treats a stretched intestinal wall as a stimulus to excrete, a prolonged stretch will dull the signal to empty, and will result in more effort when it’s time to go. It’s not harmful to hold it in from time to time, but you shouldn’t make a habit of it.

What to Wipe With

1.) Hopefully, toilet paper.

2.) Mullein (Verbascum thapsus) is a biennial forb that is native to Europe and Africa. It’s a common weedy plant in the United States and prefers well-lit disturbed soils. The soft, tomentose leaves make it nature’s version of your favorite triple-ply extra deluxe TP from your parents’ place. Except it’s right here, on the other side of that sagebrush over there. Go ahead… try it out and you’ll see that miles and miles away from your house (or another human being for that matter), you’ll feel right at home. You can also sleep well at night knowing that you contributed marginally to curbing the population of an invasive weed.

A word of caution: Be very careful to not use plants that you are not familiar with. For one, they can have adverse conditions and be harmful to your health. They may also be listed as endangered and under federal protection. I’m really preaching to the choir here and I trust that all you botanists-in-training will recognize that.

3.) Alright. You found a safe place to poo but you’re out of TP and the vegetation looks abrasive at best. It’s time to get creative. When my fellow technician Wyatt first suggested this, I thought he was just messing around. I thought it was some sick joke until I actually tried it so hear me out:  rocks. A river rock, a chunky lump of upland basalt, it doesn’t really matter. It all works equally as well and there is no shame to it. So if the world ever puts you in that desperate position… just take the leap and join the club.

Technique

       Just a few quick tips here. In the field, you are essentially reduced to pooing as our ancestors did. There is no tall porcelain structure to support you, so you have to essentially squat in order to go. Research has found that this is actually the healthiest posturing to poo because sitting puts pressure on your rectum and impairs bowel movement. The most stable and best way to squat is the 3rd world squat, a basic human movement which many of us cannot do. Try it. If you are one of those people, you may like to learn, or, you can always support yourself with a shovel/tree. Another problem concerns keeping your clothes clear from the line of danger. For this I would advise the following:
When crouching with your pants around your ankles, reach in from the front of your legs and grab the back part of your pants (middle of your belt) and pull it forward. This will keep your clothing clear of the danger zone.

Some Workplace Considerations

       Out in the field, our bodies and minds have to put up with many factors, whether they be the heat, humidity, rain, mosquitos, fatigue, hunger, etc. Each one of these wears on us over the course of the day. The urge to go is just another one of these distractions – pulling your focus away from the task at hand, making you irritable, lowering morale, and negatively affecting your interactions with coworkers and ultimately your productivity and the quality of work you put out. Why put yourself through that?

       I feel very fortunate to work in a crew where we talk about mostly anything. We spend looong days in the field — I’m talking regular 10-day monitoring trips. It’s impossible to not get a sense of everyone’s poo schedule. So when one of us is off beat, the others notice. Take it from me when I say it’s really nice to hear someone ask “Did you remember to go today?”. Honestly. For one, yes. Yes I did forget to go. But two, that means I won’t have the urge to go during the middle of the day when we are in the thick of monitoring. It is an unnecessary disruption to the workflow that can be mitigated and, like I said, a senseless tax on the brain to deal with the urge otherwise. I would invite you all to communicate openly and maturely about with topic with your coworkers.

Thanks for reading, y’all.

Happy pooing, everyone!

Michal Tutka 💩
Prineville, Oregon BLM

Every day in the field is an adventure. I do my best to be prepared, to take precautions, and to not take needless risks. Most of the time I work by myself, so if anything happens I’m on my own to figure out a solution. I have a truck full of supplies and gear, but I’m still just one person – there’s only so much I can do. For example, I can’t pull a truck out of a mud pit by myself.

“Oh, did you get stuck in a mud pit?”

Yes. Yes I did.

Normally I drive an F350 4×4 with super-duty tires. It’s a big truck, and I’ve skidded it sideways through several long, deep muddy pools on old forest roads with towering Ponderosa Pines crowding in on either side of me. It handles like a boss. As long as one tire was gripping, I’ve been fine. I thought I had mastered mud.

Yay truck!

But I don’t always get to drive the F350. It had to go in the shop for maintenance, so I had to scrounge for an extra truck in the vehicle pool. I got an F150  – it had all-wheel drive, it was cleared for off-road field work; a little closer to the ground, but that’s ok. I didn’t think too hard about taking out to my seed collecting site on Camp Creek.

The thing about the Camp Creek location is that it’s part of a grazing allotment. Grazing allotments have well pumps to shunt water to cattle tanks all over the parcel. The little road that I needed to get on has such a pump, but it leaks. The leak is bad enough that the road is always muddy, and now that the cows are on the pasture it’s just a rutted, trodden wallow.

When I arrived, I walked the wallow & scouted my path: I kept two tires on dry ground & made it through just fine. I found the excess barbed wire the rancher had trimmed off the gate so the cows could access the creek & tossed it in the bed of the truck. I felt so smart: no flat tires on my watch! I flipped into low gear & eased the little truck down the steep bank & across the creek. I was so happy, I’m really getting the hang of this off-roading stuff. I did my site assessment, and made my way back to the main road.

The crossing at Camp Creek. It’s hard to judge by the photo, but the road on both banks is about a 40* incline, and there are some big, pointy rocks hiding in there. The water isn’t too deep, but you have to stay right on the track – there’s exactly enough room for the truck, but not much room for error.

Except this time when I came back, there was a herd of cows in my way. In the hour or two since I had crossed, about 30 cows decided it was time to get a drink, and they were standing around in the mud puddle where I needed to cross.

My path on dry ground is blocked by cows. The bush in the left foreground is growing out of a nick point where the drainage has carved out a deep cleft – can’t really go that way.

Ok, so there’s cows. Hm, and a bull. I don’t really want to get out & charge at the bull – the cows should move if I drive up to them, right? I started forward, trying to politely edge between the cows & the mud. My left tires were sliding into the mud, but that was ok – my right tires were on dry ground. I was doing fine.

But then I wasn’t. One of the cows got jumpy & dodged into my path. Not wanting to hit her (of course), I turned to the side. And slid totally into the mud pit – now no tires were touching dry ground, they just spun in place.

Hey, I can get out of this. I’m not that far in, I’ll just dig it out a bit & reverse it. So, I got out my shovel & started digging. I dug out the wet, sloppy clay full of cow manure. I dug dry earth with clods of dead grass & packed it under the tires as best I could. I was ankle deep in the mud, my feet were sliding around in my boots. The cows thought this most irregular. I continued this exercise for about half an hour.

It’s not every day you see something like this.

I put everything back in the truck & started it up. I put it in reverse & eased the gas, slowly rocking it until the truck moved backward. I moved! Awesome!! I’m going to get out of this mess, I was so proud! Until I slid back toward the corner of the mud pit where the drainage goes underground. The crevices are a few feet deep, and my back tires were sliding towards them. I stopped.

Another foot or so & I’d have additional problems. So close to freedom, but so far.

I got back in the truck to think. The novelty of being stuck in the mud had worn off, and I was angry. The cows were increasingly intrigued. Why couldn’t they have found some other water spot? Why did they need to stand around this muddy puddle?!?

You’re not helping, cows.

I stared at the cows. I stared at the sagebrush. I pondered how the indigenous people here peeled the bark off the sagebrush to make sandals. I had an idea: I could use the sagebrush too! I could cut the sagebrush & pack it under the tires & across the mud to get some traction! Ooh, I felt smart again!

I grabbed my pruners and leapt out of the truck, nearly hugging the first bush I tripped over. But, my pruners wouldn’t cut through the tough bark. They twisted and frayed the branches, but the damn stuff just wouldn’t cut. The cows inched closer to see what was so interesting about the sagebrush they stood in all day. One was so close she was breathing in my face. I was furious: I screamed at the pruners, I screamed at the cows. I waved my shirt at them, yelling and stomping after them. First they looked surprised, then they actually started, a little taken aback. I ran all around the truck like a manic monkey, screaming & jumping & swinging the shovel trying to make the stupid cows leave me alone. They actually turned and ran off a bit, but only when I was running directly at them. I ran at all of them in a big arc, hollering like an idiot. One of them stopped. It turned and gave me a look like it had suddenly become aware of its relative size. I was chasing the bull.

I stood still and stared down the bull, brandishing my shovel at it. He let out a low growl that shouldn’t come from an herbivore. I stood even more still, but glared at him just as intently. He eventually blinked and licked at his hoof. I backed towards the truck & got in the bed. (Sorry I don’t have pictures of this part.)

Standing in the bed of the truck I watched the cows listlessly walk off, kicking up a dust trail as they went off in search of less animated company. The bull followed them. I looked down at the toolbox, and upon opening it I found a hand saw. It was dull and rusty, the tip was broken and bent, but it was better than my pruners. I jumped down & started furiously hacking away at the sagebrush. Just then, a truck rolled along the adjoining main road. As it approached the crossing herd, I waved with both arms. Much to my chagrin the cows turned away from the road back towards me, and the truck passed by without hardly slowing. I kept sawing.

Having seemed to forget that just minutes before I had been charging them with a shovel, the cows gathered around again to watch. The bull seemed to grant me permission to cut sagebrush on my side of the truck, and he entertained himself on the other side. Once again I dug out the tires, wedging the sagebrush as deep as I could under them. I made a little bridge of sagebrush across the mud, hoping that if I could just catch one piece well enough, I’d pull myself out of there.

I tried so hard.

Sagebrush bridge constructed, I once again chased off the cows. I didn’t want them to obstruct what could be my only chance to get out of their most favorite mud puddle in the entire allotment. But, my wheels only spun in place. The sagebrush got mangled a bit and sucked down into the mud, but the tires were so slick by this point they just couldn’t grip anything. I’d been in the same spot now for two hours, self-sufficiency was no longer productive.

“Lane to Dispatch on Grizzly…” The cows wandered off almost single file, the show was over.

The desert was silent. I could hear the wind gusting over a hill, I thought I could hear it turning directions. Sometimes a bird would peep. There weren’t any bugs, just me and the sky and the muddy trickle of the broken well pump running under the truck and into the crevice.

About an hour and a half after getting in touch with Dispatch, a Forest Service crew rolled up in a giant rig with a winch. They affirmed my sagebrush bridge attempt, and affirmed how well I was stuck. One of the crew members kicked the tires.

“There’s your problem right there. Just road tires on this thing.”

With the winch hooked up they pulled me out without any difficulty, and even followed for a stretch to make sure I didn’t have any further problems with the muddy tires.

The next week I returned in my trusty F350 and its super-duty tires. I drove clear over the sagebrush, avoiding the mud altogether. There were no cows that day.

– Stefanie Lane, BLM, Prineville, OR