On May 22nd, 2016, I left for training at the United States Fish and Wildlife Service National Conservation Training Center. Sounds fancy, right? I was lucky enough to land a job with a great program that trains budding biologists like myself to conduct independent research projects. I was selected for a waterfowl research project in Interior Alaska, researching breeding and nesting ecology of Common Goldeneye ducks, several other species of waterfowl, and even Boreal Owls. I'll post some pictures of little owlets and ducklings when I have more access to internet, don't worry! I expected this project to help me become a better scientist. It did some of that, but more importantly, it helped me become a better human being.
Fast forward to my first night in Alaska, May 27th. Daniela, my research partner in crime and roommate for the next 6 weeks, picked me up at the airport at 3 AM. Guess what? There's no night time during the summer here, so it still looked like it was the afternoon. We drove through the endless boreal forest for what felt like forever. Fifty miles later, as the bars on my cell phone diminished to zero, I found myself in the complete silence and stillness of Interior Alaska within the Chena River State Recreation Area, where I would be living for almost two months. For my entire life, I've lived ten minutes from downtown New Orleans. I need the sirens and car horns to fall asleep, I need the endless chatter and embraces of the Southern sun to keep me alive. Here, I can hear the grayling swimming in the pond from 50 feet away. That is how still it is. For the first couple nights, the silence made my bones feel frozen and my mind numb with each second that passed. I ran down the road and called my loved ones at home, boohoo crying that I don't know what the hell I just got myself into. I got to Alaska right when the field season kicked into full gear. We worked 14 to 18 hours each day, carrying 20-foot extension ladders and backpacks over and under fallen spruce trees in the boreal forest. I thought I had rough field days when I did coastal research, but that was as difficult as binge watching Netflix compared to this. I called my mom again, boohoo crying. "Mom, my whole body hurts, my legs, my arms, my feet, and I haven't slept in days! I have 200 mosquito bites and I don't think I can do this anymore!" She told me, "You can do it. Just make it through June. I love you." Daniela and I made the best of it, laughing all day through our half-closed eyes. Some days we were so delirious that our laughter always lead to tears, and you didn't really know why your eyes were leaking. I call Daniela the Forest Fairy, because she is used to this environment and is so agile climbing in the forest. I couldn't have been luckier to end up in the middle of the woods with such a gracious woman as herself. She understood that I'm used to bowl-shaped New Orleans, and waited patiently until my limbs got used to the hills and obstacles of the boreal forest.
Well, here I am, and Lord have mercy I made it through June with flying colors. After three weeks of crazy hours and deliriousness, I realized that my body and my mind had obeyed the demands of the work. My field pants that once squeezed all my guts out are now falling off. Even my baby cheeks shrunk a little bit. My muscles are strong and lean, and I find peace in the silence now. I find myself in the middle of the woods, breathing in the spruce trees that smell like Christmas and knowing that my body will do what I tell it to. Here, you don't win. Nature will always kick your ass. The people in the Interior can't have plumbing because of the layers of permafrost in the ground. They go elsewhere to get water and transport it to their homes. This is just one way that these people live in accordance with nature. They respect our resources, and I respect them for their resiliency. I think people from Alaska may love their state even more than the Texans do! I get the opportunity to work in a place where relatively no one has ever been. This is where the northernmost population of dinosaurs once roamed, where 200-year-old bowhead whales have swam the icy waters. I get the chance to work in the largest area of wild, untouched land on this entire continent!
With the little time I have left in Alaska, I can't wait to see what else I learn here. Although I am ready to be back in the South, there are more lessons to learn here. My physical and mental strength is greater than ever before, and I couldn't be more thankful. Alaska, you have kicked my ass. Keep it up.
Thanks for reading!
Katie
