As the second to last month winds down to a closure, I almost feel as if the month that remains were slipping away alongside too. I think of how many things I have yet to do, so many places to fall in love with, and definitely not enough time. I’ve even began planning how I can come back next year. This last month has been a mixture of working with vouchers, working with different divisions learning their skill set (or some of it anyway) and field work. But most its activities have proven to make it a month of personal reflection. It is of my belief that humans can have almost anything they want, but it’s finding the wanting that is difficult. I have learned so much about life through this job: How to push my boundaries so far they get lost in the distance; how to be grateful for life in every situation, just for simply being alive; how to wake up every morning and decide to have a marvelous day…
For example, just a few days ago I went camping to this beautiful and remote area of the park. I chose to go here because it had never been surveyed. I knew this because of map I made using GIS; I plotted all the points that have been entered in the Herbarium Database, of both the Working and Historical Collection. These points give me a good idea as to which areas of the park should still be surveyed and using the points of the Historical Collection, I can find out where the plants that the Working Herbarium is missing actually are. As I was hiking in, I saw a beautiful gigantic butte. It was basically impossible to get to it, but I knew I wanted to, and that no one else would go there. So the next morning I climbed up the steep mountain for several hours, finding different interesting Haplopapus (Asteraceae) on the way. When I got to the butte I felt I had taken myself further than I would normally have, and I succeeded. Thus, now I know that the furthest point I think I can reach, still falls short of what I can actually do. As it is with everyone, I think. Among the Manzanita and Quercus gambelii slithered out the biggest rattle snake I have seen in my life. It was going toward me, so I moved to let it know I was there. It stopped dead in its tracks and when I left to get the camera, it disappeared. I left soon after that, just finished making Chysothamnus and Eriogonum vouchers and bolted down the mountain. When I got to the trail I saw that the way I had come down was probably the only way that was remotely possible to ascend. I had not noticed, but there were small cliffs to either side of the path I took. And that leads me to the idea that gratefulness is really key in life, because anything can happen, yet we are still here with the possibility of loving life. I went on another long hike and found many other plants but by the time I got back to my car and the trailhead leading to my campsite, it was already dark. I left the excess gear and started down Lee Pass. About mid way I saw probably the only other sight that would have shot my adrenalin more than a rattle snake… The glow of two bright green orbs 50 m ahead of me. Mountain lions are common in this area, but if I was to see one, I had always hoped it would be at least in the day time… Alas it was not this way, so I did what I was taught and got ready to fight, just in case it came to that. After waiting some time, hopefully giving the cat time to mind its business, I continued onward to my tent where I laid awake feeling wonderfully alive, albeit in a tad of peril (just the way life usually is).

After savoring my last couple field days in Rocky Mountain NP, it has been back to the office to continue work on the Great Lakes Invasives project. I am now essentially complete with all the data input, which has thus far taken me through just over half of my internship. While much of this has been tedious, it is certainly nice to look through all the spreadsheets, species profiles, and data interfaces and confidently explain the system and how it will work to my supervisors. I can certainly appreciate the importance of this work for the future management of the parks and it has allowed me to consider natural resource and ecological management far more in depth than I have previously. I can also tell you that I will miss my days trotting through the beauty of the Rockies and calling it “work”. One day…

So I am now to continue the presentation side of my project through website design and publicizing. I’ve attach some of my favorite pictures from my time in Rocky.

The mornings feel like fall now. It’s harder to get up because the pitch black sky is telling me that I should still be asleep, and the chill in the air makes me want to curl up in my cozy bed. The days are still warm, however, and I’m taking advantage of all the available sunlight and warmth before winter sets in. Although many plants have been done seeding for a while, there are still many that are waiting for their moment. Yellow rabbitbrush turns entire valleys into golden seas and the flowers of the sagebrush discreetly beckon pollinators to help them reproduce. It has been great to be out in the field nearly every day, as I explore new areas and rediscover others, drive through amazing canyons with nearly sheer rock walls, all while looking for plants and collecting seed. I’ve also been able to continue working at the National Wildlife Refuge just out of town, and have helped Forest Service crews with monitoring. Getting to talk to these crews and to discuss differences in monitoring techniques, and to hear about their past experiences and amazing stories has reminded me why field biology is so appealing to me. I am not ready to settle in one spot yet, and seasonal jobs offer me the opportunity to discover parts of the country that I would otherwise never visit. I have been able to explore some amazing areas of California and Nevada that I would never have known existed, while hiking and collecting seeds as part of the job.

A rainbow after a desert storm collecting rabbitbrush seed with Liz in Nevada High Rock Canyon, NV