A beautiful day on the Gerber Reservoir
Spring has quickly progressed to summer here in the Klamath Basin. Nights are still cool, but the daytime temperatures have gotten to be a very comfortable 75-85. With the warming weather, work is shifting from in the office to in the field, a most welcome change. Although I will admit that Marissa and I recently remodeled our cubicles, and they are both looking mighty cheery these days. Speaking of Marissa, at the time of this writing she is off at a conference in Hawaii, and I’m holding down the fort here in Klamath Falls.
On another note, I would like to point out that cattle love to poop. It must be their favorite hobby. Either that, or standing in the middle of whatever road you find yourself driving down. Biologists are generally less concerned with why the cow failed to make it all the way across the road. We like cow poop. Sometimes cattle poop in unfortunate areas, like in and along streams and ponds. And where there are cattle, there are cattle trails. Cattle can expedite the process of erosion, change the composition of the riparian habitat, and decrease water quality. In the case of streams serving as critical habitat for endangered species, these effects are notably unwelcome. A few weeks ago, a few of us from the office set off on a mission to confirm and/or deny that cattle were accessing certain stretches of a few remote rivers. Ladies and gentleman, enter the enthralling sport of cow-pie hunting. We would leave early in the morning, drive four-wheel drive roads, get lost, encounter snow, hike off trail, and be deterred by dangerous river crossings. All in the pursuit of poop!
Heading off into the Williamson River delta with a boatload of wocus plants ready to be transplanted
Getting ready to sink an array of wocus plants
Poop is fun, and so is underwater gardening! Just this week I donned a dry suit and hopped in a roadside wetland. Submerged up to my neck, I followed the stems of lily pads down to the muddy sediment below. In this rich muck, I felt blindly for the big, hunking tuber of the wocus. With a circumference larger than a coffee mug and a texture resembling a pineapple sans spines, I would scrap, pull, push, chop, wiggle, and heave at the often several-foot long tuber to free it from its benthic home. Once free, the tuber would float on the surface, giving no indication that in fact prefers to be buried several feet down below the surface. These wocus plants will be transplanted to a Nature Conservancy property in an effort to reestablish the natural wetland areas that were once there.
Pulling in a fyke net to sample for suckers!
Whether poop hunting or extreme underwater gardening, the field season here sure is heating up. Other activities have or will soon include electrofishing, zooplankton sampling, larval fish studies, goose banding, and fish netting. I’m glad my work here has offered up plenty of opportunities to explore, learn, gain professional experience, and hone my underwater gardening skills.