Sleeping Bear Dunes NL, Michigan - May 29, 2007

There's a kind of beauty about the desert: the starkness of the land there, the way the bones of the earth, all their history and grandeur, are clearly visible, unshadowed by vegetation; the sun rising through the morning clouds and the shocking blueness of the afternoon sky; the sharpness of the cactus and the lightning-flashes of lizard disappearing beneath the creosote bushes, testaments both to the difficulty of survival in the desert and the long paths along which life is led by the necessities of evolution. I say all this because I want my readers to be sure that I am in no way slighting the desert or the wonders it holds when I say 'God, it's good to be somewhere green again.'






















I arrived in Michigan a little over two weeks ago, and since then have been busy with my new job as a Biological Technician at Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore. For the first couple of months, it looks like my job will be focused on piping plovers, an endangered species of shore birds. I'll be surveying for new nests, constructing exclosures and perimeter fencing around the nests, monitoring the birds, helping to band the chicks, and, if necessary, throwing myself in front of ferocious housecats to protect them. For practical purposes, this means I'll be spending most of my summer camping on an island on Lake Michigan, walking or sitting on the beach, and watching birds. It's really hard, though…

Last week, I spent four days on North Manitou Island, and I'll be returning for another five days this week. I've already started purchasing trail mix in bulk. The camp is surprisingly posh, featuring tents, collapsible chairs, and (the big prize) a deluxe propane camp stove. The stove embarrassed Alice (a plover researcher here): "The predator control guys are going to think we're all wimps!" We've been debating ways of hiding it before they get here.

The bird banger (kind of like a flare gun, except with less flare and more gun) is fun. Oddly, every seagull in a half-mile radius responds to it with instant flight, but the plovers don't even flinch. I suspect this goes a long way towards explaining their endangered status.
I'm living in a government dorm, on the appropriately named 'Barrack Street,' with Lee, a plover biotech who's been here for 5 years, and Clark, a botany intern who's been here for two days. Besides Lee, I'm mostly going to be working with Pat and Paul (both college seniorinterns), and Karen, another Biotech who graduated a few years back. Paul, especially, I'm going to be working with a lot, since we share a monitoring shift, rotating with Karen and Pat. They all seem nice.

I bought a bike at a local rummage sale, and I've been using it tobike to and from work. It's a bit old, and could probably use a tune-up, but it's got three gears, of which two of them work (which is okay – the middle gear was always kind of a luxury gear anyway), and should last me the few months that I'm here.

The town I'm living in, Empire, is quiet, but very scenic, dependent mostly on the summer tourist business. Last weekend was Empire's annual 'Asparagus Festival.' I went to the asparagus cook-off, but unfortunately missed the asparagus parade and asparagus poetry reading (this is not a joke).

While they all seem to enjoy the asparagus (perhaps a little too much…), apparently what the tourists here are really known for purchasing is the fudge, earning them the moniker 'Fudgies.' They even have a name for tourists who settle in the area: 'Permifudge.'

The nearest business to my house is a chocolate shop. I like this town.

I hope you're all doing well,
Nathan