Memorial Day 2010 in Boston, Massachusetts

Recently back from a joyous weekend in Boston, MA-- a town for which I have long had an extreme fondness, but which I hadn't had the chance to visit in over a decade. Where does the time go, I ask? Not much had changed since my last visit, I am happy to report. It was beautiful weather in general, and all the wonderful things you expect from a city on the water-- breakdancers in front of Faneuil Hall, seafood within 10 yards of where it was caught, a zombie march through the Commons, little white sailboats on the Charles, etc. etc. etc. A very picturesque backdrop to an incredibly fun visit with lots of different old friends.
For the first time in my life, however, Memorial Day weekend wasn't just frolicking and barbecues. While hoofing it around the city, I inadvertently visited several monuments to victims of war and I remembered them. While walking the Freedom Trail in the North End, I saw a garden memorial to soldiers who have died in the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, the latter having reached over 1000 just recently, after 10 years of war and no end in sight.
Later that day, I walked through the New England Holocaust Memorial. A visually and emotionally striking testament to the 6 million people (jews and non-jews) killed during the Nazi regime in Europe. The glass columns have 6 million numbers etched in them, as well as quotes (like this one I have posted) and facts about the war.
Later in the weekend, I found myself back on the Freedom Trail again. Because Boston is so old, there are historical graveyards around town where many famous historical figures are buried. The Granary, for example, contains the remains of Paul Revere, signers of the Declaration of Independence, and victims of the Boston Massacre, which led to the Revolutionary War.
On Monday, I was walking through the city and again I saw a tribute to Americans who have died in our current wars-- a lawn of american flags in the Boston Commons commemorating each person's passing.
Although the Revolutionary War and World War II seem so clear cut in retrospect (independence, good versus evil), seeing the flags and trying to balance feelings of sadness with larger feelings of frustration made me wonder if, at the time, people may have felt then like I do now about war. Isn't there a better way to solve the problem than having a war? I know it sounds really stupid, but war doesn't just seem barbaric, it seems stupid. Why would anyone think killing someone (no less lots of people) would solve a problem, rather than just create more problems? Granted, I am glad we are free of the tyranny of British rule and lord knows I do not support taxation without representation. Similarly, I can't argue against the statement that Hitler's rise to power was horrible and needed to be stopped. But 6 million people didn't die in WWII. 60 million people died. It is tempting to think there might have been a better way to put an end to the Nazi regime than adding more death. Part of all this reflection stems from my recent decision to become a Civil War buff. I am reading James McPherson's Battle Cry of Freedom right now (which is amazingly well written by the way, I highly recommend it) because I decided that this may well have been the most tragic war I have ever heard of-- literally brother against brother. For some reason, I think I still believe understanding problems is the key to solving them, and my first act towards non-passive pacificism was to get this book. More on this later....

For all you marionette-lovers out there

For fellow lovers of Being John Malkovich, Team America, and other such inventive endeavors that involve marionettes (not just puppets, but the ones with strings attached and their oh-so-subtle movements)-- I have a treat for you. Josh Ritter, a singer song writer that I have liked for a long time and have probably blogged about before, just released a new album and one of the songs is about a mummy who awakes in his sarcophagus only to fall in love with the archaeologist who found him. It is a lovely song, and the video is way more fun than most videos these days. If you want to check it out, they are streaming it at npr.org. Josh is also on tour in the US in June (and coming to Dallas, so there will be a concert review forthcoming!) If you haven't seen him, he puts on a fantastic show and you should. Here I am with he and my friend Katy at the last show I saw him play, some time in 2008. Very warm to all us fans after the show, in addition to a great performance.

More blog spawn

I feel like I mentioned this already, but rather than read my own blog and find out (sounds even more self-centered than writing my own blog), I will risk repeating myself.... my blog has produced another spawn! Is there no end? This one is also music-related, but much to everyone's delight, not music that I am involved in making (I can almost hear the collective sigh of relief over the interweb). Coach Moore and I have teamed up to bring you a weekly dose of new music over at Pancho and Lefty's New Music Monday site.
For a while, we have had a weekly phone appointment on Mondays to exchange tips about new bands that we come across-- kind of like insider trading for people who like music. We definitely ripped the name off from a brilliant feature on an average radio station back in Indiana (92.3, WTTS), but if imitation is the greatest form of flattery, then they should be thanking us if they ever find out. The blog was born when Chris came to visit and we realized that we should share these tips with the world (and that we would forget the name of last week's band if we didn't write it down somewhere). I am pretty sure only one person other than Chris (Lefty) and I (Pancho) have read it, and it is fine if that is the way things stay, but if you are interested in something new to listen to, I encourage you to check it out. We put a link where you can stream the band of interest, a short description of the music, and a picture. There is a lot of really good stuff up there already (and we are pretty quick to point out when it isn't that great too), and there should be lots more to come.... hope you enjoy!

Pictured (from left to right): portraits of Pancho and Lefty in pumpkin with candle

Life's Little (and Big) Pleasures

Just a cool picture to get the juices flowing because I am out of blogging shape.... This photo (posted by kibuyu) recently won 1st place in a photo contest entitled "Translucent" -- pretty cool, eh?

Ok, that was easy enough-- juices flowing! We have a new addition to the SHoF dear friends-- Britt Koskella made her illustrious debut this past weekend while stopping by UTA to give a fantastic seminar on her research (on red queen dynamics in both snails and horse chestnuts) and visiting with her family (who, somehow, thrive in the metroplex! I can't figure out how they do it-- but they are creative, environmentally conscientious, fun, kind people and they happily call Dallas their home! I need to learn more from them....) It was a great weekend, though too fast and too short as always. Speaking of short, time is limited for future inductees who may be out there, hoping to earn a spot in the Texas edition of the SHoF. I recently got an offer to do a post-doc in Portland, OR and will be moving there at the end of August. This, of course, has some wonderful benefits, not the least of which will be the chance to be closer to my family who live out in them thar hills. The other plus is that hopefully I will no longer have to coax people to come visit by inducting them into a illusory cyber hall of fame based on spending the night in a trailer (though that really seemed to work wonders!) If you haven't been to Oregon, you have to come. It is beautiful, and very west coastly but without the hype of California or quite as much rain as Washington. There are mountains, rivers, vineyards, deserts, coastline, forests-- all for the meandering. The state slogan was recently changed to "We Love Dreamers"-- so who wouldn't want to go there? Of course it isn't all just a bed of roses, as I have become quite attached to folks here in Arlington as well. This weekend, my bosses threw a great party as they often do, and it really made me realize how lucky I have been to have this job, in this place, at this time, despite all my pooh-poohing of Texas and its strange laws and customs (did I mention that I got pulled over at a police checkpoint last week? welcome to the independent republic indeed!) In addition to my happiness at work, which really couldn't be greater, I have been welcomed into the hearts of two gentlemen (one big, one small) who make life in the Lonestar state not lonesome at all. The big one played a rockin' show this weekend at my favorite local dive bar (called Caves, and it does pretty much feel like one) with one of his bands, The Future Unlived (to listen to my favorite of their songs, Wage War, click here). The small one entertained us all the way home from a barbecue last night by singing songs he made up on the spot-- music must run in the family. Being serenaded like this? maybe I don't have to consult with Britt's folks about how to make life sweet in the metroplex afterall....

When You Can't Send a Card, Write a Limerick

A More Than Just Mother's Day Limerick

Of the many on whom we depend,
Wounded hearts and scraped knees to help mend,
In our darkest of hours,
They gather their powers,
And become not just our moms, but our friends.

Happy Mother's Day Mom!!!

A New Addition to the SHoF Can Uncover Hidden Gems

A quick post from the brink-- I am back in Arlington after the conference in Canada that made me question my whole scientific self. As you know, I study transposable elements, and the meeting was about transposable elements. So, you can imagine, when I was at the meeting and not understanding very much, it called things into question for me. But now I am back in my cluttered office where I have more of handle on how things work and why, and I am trying to get back to the grindstone. The intervening weekend, however, was spent hosting my friend Matt Carrigan from Gainesville, FL, the most recent inductee into the SHoF. Matt and I were in grad school at the same time, way back in the late 90's at the University of Florida. He was in neuroscience, but moonlighted in the biology department when seminars or journal clubs caught his fancy. A few years later, when we crossed paths at the Evolution meetings in CA, he remembered me as the loudmouth biology girl in said classes, but since he didn't know anyone else at the meetings, he figured I was as good a person as any to befriend. I remembered Matt too-- punk-rock haired, ambulance-driving, free-lancing academic rogue who worked on scientific questions that seemed almost like fiction (what were the first molecules that constituted life?) Luckily, his astrobiology conference hosted by NASA (no, I am not making that up) was in Houston this year, so he was able to pop up to Arlington for the weekend so we could recover from our overly technical existences, together. In the process of showing him around, I found out (again) that Arlington isn't as bad as I necessarily think-- especially when we went to a new music venue in the Bishop Arts District of South Dallas on Saturday night to see music (among others, Jacob Metcalfe and his musical troubadours, pictured above on the right) and then on Sunday when we went to play at Dinosour Valley State Park. Nestled just past the Creation Science Museum and the Dinosaur Theme Park, the DVSP is actually a gorgeous piece of public land with a beautiful river, rocky cliffs, and unbelievably awesome, clear dinosaur footprints in the water. Apparently, these kinds of sites are not uncommon in the US, but I had never been to one, and found it to be incredibly cool. I can't wait to go back, perhaps with the next inductee? We shall see....

Oh Canada!

This post comes from the mothercountry-- I am in Canada this week at a conference on Mobile DNA. I have blogged once before about transposable elements (the things I study) but I promise not to bore you with too much on that this time. Mostly it is just fun to be back in Montreal, were I lived as a child before moving to Chicago. My first memories are all from here, and before the conference started, I went back to the old neighborhood and visited my oldest friend in the world's mom, Angie. It was great to be at her house (same one where I used to hang out 32 years ago) and see old pictures and talk about old stories. Then I came downtown for the conference, but it happens to be about 3 blocks from McGill University, which is where my old advisors (from grad school in Florida) are now, so I got to have a fun picnic with them before really digging into meeting mode (which involves non-stop 15 minute talks, occasionally separated in time by surreal, nearly identical coffee breaks during which you simply clear enough brain space to go back into a heavily carpeted, windowless room and resume being talked at-- all of this for four days straight until you are in a near-coma-like state, at which point you are released back into the wild, presumably better off, ...but I am not so sure). Anyway, it was fun to see them too, and I have also gotten to partake of the quebecois culinary delight known as poutine (fries drenched in gravy and cheese curds; pictured here) and tomorrow I will go for smoked meat. So, the confines of the conference haven't completely reined me in, but in collusion with the weather (which went from 70 degrees and sunny to 30 degrees and snowing in one day), the powers that be are trying. Speaking of which, the second half of the afternoon session starts in a few minutes... more from Texas soon!

Spring Break, Day 3 and thereafter

I am so sorry for the delay, devoted reader(s). Although usually I would agree with you (blog before you forget the details!), the trip took a decidedly less death-defying turn once we decided to give up on our little dingy. Because blogging about disaster is always more interesting than blogging about success, I just wasn't as urgently motivated to tell you about the rest of the trip.... but I will.

We got back to the mainland and immediately (I am not kidding) ordered a margarita at the restaurant that owned the dock. We needed a new plan. While drinking said margarita, we decided to ask our waiter if HE knew of any way to get to the islands. He said there were fisherman that would be at the dock within the hour and that we should talk to them because they would be happy to take us. And so we did. Who'd have thunk it was that easy? $120 one-way to the island(s) of our choice. Given how much the boat cost to buy, I mean fix, and then tow, and then fix-- this was a steal. Why we didn't just go with fishermen who have sea-worthy vessels and boating experience in the first place, you might ask? I also asked. Here's a pic of Michelle and I celebrating life.

So we set out that evening for Cabeza de Caballo (the ominously named, if you like The Godfather, Horsehead Island). This island was rumored to have snakes, but none have ever been collected. We arrived just at dark, and since I was the only one (besides the dog) who had never actually caught a snake before, I volunteered to set up camp and cook dinner while the other three set out looking for C. mitchelli. This earned me the nickname Cookie, at least with Matt, for the remainder of the trip. About two hours later, Jesse came back with a snake. Half an hour later, Matt came back with 1 more. Given that Jesse had told me that he would be happy if we caught a handful of snakes during the entire trip, this seemed like quite a coup. Michelle came back a little while later and we hit the hay. The next morning, we searched again (this time, even yours truly was on the prowl). Lots of chuckwallas were out. They are big, skittish, and loud (=easy to spot). Mitchelli, on the other hand, are not. To emphasize this point, I have pasted a picture below. Try and find the snake in it. Unfortunately, I have not mastered the blogosphere sufficiently to have you click on it to see the snake pointed out, so I just pasted the photo again below with a circle. This may not be lifesize on your computer screen, but I think you see my point (or don't; punny, huh?) So, I didn't find any the first day. But I did find a baby chuckwalla! And I wanted to grab SOMETHING. So I picked it up and made kissy faces.
That morning, Matt found another one (right near our camp), so by the time the fisherman came to get us at mid-day we had 6 snakes and even a chance to snorkel in the beautiful bay. Success! Off to island number two-- Piojo (= louse). This island was farther away, with steep sides and a relatively flat top. Most notably, the island was covered with pelicans. Pelicans seem docile and majestic when you see them flying in small clusters at the beach-- gliding along the wave lines, parallel to the shore, occasionally dipping down to score some small fish snack treat. When you are in their hood, however, they do not seem docile. They seem irritated, and prehistoric, and gigantic. Still majestic, but just more.... real. We arrived on Piojo in the evening and made a quick dinner and then set out to find snakes in the dark. The snakes move at night to forage and mate making the trade-off between lack of light (night) versus lack of movement (day) pretty worthwhile if you have a good flashlight. We climbed up the not-so-steep cliff by our beach and got on top of the flat-roofed island to look around. The wind was blowing fiercely and the shiny-eyed pelicans seem to be everywhere. We tried to avoid valleys where they were nesting so as not to disturb their roost, but it was hard because there were so many. Seeing pelican babies in a nest squawking from their freshly hatched eggs will not be an image soon erased from my mind. Nor will the shadowy swooping overhead of vigilant pelican parents expressing their utmost dismay that I might be having an unforgettable moment peering into one of their nests. But we weren't their for birdwatching, we were there for snakes. And snakes we did find-- actually, Jesse found. Four to be exact-- I didn't take any pictures because it was dark, but he was just as ecstatic as he was the previous day on Cabeza, so I can show that. We had plenty, and really did not want to put the pelicans out any more than we already had, so we camped on the beach, relieved to know we had (again) gotten plenty of snakes on an island with no guarantees. The next morning was once again spent snorkeling and exploring near the shore. Amidst my poking around in the intertidal zone, lo' and behold, I found a snake! Practically with one foot in the ocean! These snakes are not swimmers, but the fact that I stumbled upon on so close to the water made Jesse's raft hypothesis to explain the colonization (or re-colonization) of some of the islands very plausible. It was so weird, but now it was official: I became a herpetologist. Admittedly, they are easier to spot on the giant dark rocks near the shore, but still, I became one.

The next day, the fisherman, and Michelle, and Michelle's husband (Claudio) and her labmate, and her labmate's boyrfriend, all came to Piojo to pick us up (me, Jesse, Matt, and the dog, and the snakes-- all alive, in pillow cases knotted at the top to prevent their escape). We headed north for Smith Island with enough camping supplies to last six months. We were spending one night. But look at Gilligan's Island-- who knows how long we might have ended up there? With 7 professors and no MaryAnn, I am not sure how great the ratings would be. We landed on the east side of the island and set up camp. Everyone set out to find snakes, and with our expanded crew and our previous two days of good luck, we were extremely hopeful. Jesse and I found one within about 30 minutes of looking, and then another one about 40 minutes after that. We figured that, at this rate, we would catch more than we could take with us. But alas, the rest of the night was fruitless, and the next day spent searching yielded only one snake for the whole group, bringing out total to 3 for the island. No matter, we had adjusted our expectations a bit after the snake parade the previous two days, but happily accepted this as our catch before returning to the mainland.

Once on the mainland, we wanted to look for mainland mitchelli (the scientist's quest is a neverending one, yes). We went night driving after dark in hopes of seeing some crossing the road in search of food or nookie, but did not see a single snake of any kind. We did see some people on the side of the road, however, and after tenuously slowing down to see if they were banditos or not, I recognized the tell-tale darwinized jesus fish logo on one of their t-shirts and hollered out to our biologist brethren, "Nice shirt!" After quickly finding out one of them was the author of a marine inverterbrate guide to the Sea of Cortez who wanted to cut us a deal on a recent edition, we stopped to shoot the breeze. Turns out, they were heading into BLA to meet up with National Geographic to dive and look for giant squid. We paid our reduced price, got our books signed, jump back in the car and continued our snakeless drive back to camp. Thanks for the discount Hans!
The next day was spent measuring, photographing, and preserving snakes (note the dog, under the processing table). Claudio and the rest of the reinforcement crew had to leave the next day to catch their plane in San Diego, so there was only time for a few more margaritas and fish tacos before we had to starting thinking about our 2000 mile return trip as well. Despite what you've heard about the border regions and the drug wars in Mexico, our passage went very smoothly and the whole team made it back to Arlington in one piece, despite the near-death theme to the first few days of the trip. Death is a theme in Baja though-- the evidence of the harsh desert conditions is everywhere around you. Even though I was surprised at how green and lush it was compared to the mental image I had before we arrived, I saw more skeletons that week than I have seen since working on bird bones at the museum back in 2002. A good reminder that life is short and death, too, can be beautiful. Although I am very glad to be reporting that second hand.... more adventures and flashbacks coming soon.

Spring Break, Day 2: The Sea of Cortez

Where was I? Oh yes, the Sea of Cortez. Just to help you visualize what I am trying to describe, let me give you some more data. The sea is young (less than 5 million years old-- a toddler in sea years). It is 900 miles long, and in the Midriff Channel where we were, the water can be up to a mile deep. In a nutshell, the geology and climate of this area are unique and the result is major upwellings of water, high levels of mixing, and, as a consequence, tons of nutrients to support organisms, which in turn support all kinds of life higher up on the food chain.

In the water, there are invertebrates (including El Diablo Rojo-- the giant man-eating squid, one of which Jesse found washed up on shore), sharks, whales, dolphins, sea turtles, and sea lions, in addition to coral-esque reefs and tons and tons and tons of fish. The largest animal known, the blue whale, lives and breeds here (averaging 75-80 ft long and weighing 110 tons). The largest fish (whale sharks) also live here and can reach over 45 ft long and up to 15 tons. The wildlife in this sea was first described by Ed Ricketts and John Steinbeck in the book The Sea of Cortez (1941), which was part biodiversity survey and part travelogue. The prose is so beautiful, I have pasted the first paragraph from the log below. Overall, I just want you to seed your imagination with these pictures, but then go further to imagine the most spectacular, productive ocean you can possibly envision. That's the setting for Day 2's adventures....
So, Pancho (the mechanic) had gotten all the rocks out of the engine and recharged the dead battery for us and we were ready to get back to work. After the previous day's events, we were hesitant to overload the boat for the longer trip from BLA out to Piojo, the island furthest from the peninsula on which we wanted to find snakes (over 2.5 miles away; bottom right red circle on the map). So we decided to take two trips-- first, we would go over with gear (Michelle, Jesse, and I) and then Michelle and I would come back and get Matt and the dog. This plan seemed perfect. Yes, Piojo was far away and the trip was likely to take well over an hour each way. True, we were traveling through deep channels and choppy seas. Admittedly we did not know exactly how much gas it would take to get there and back. Granted, the boat had broken down just 20 yards offshore the day before, leading to relative mayhem. But none of this eclipsed our desire to go get these snakes. As a precaution, Michelle and I did test drive the boat for about 2 minutes and 30 seconds around the bay. It seemed to work fine! When we were completely loaded up, again we noticed it's power dropped precipitously. No matter! We had accepted the fact that we were going to spend the rest of the day shuttling the expedition across the sea piecemeal, so what if we had to do that a little bit more slowly than originally planned?
And so we set out. Remember the splashing over the bow that I mentioned from Day 1? We had somehow blocked this out, but were acutely reminded of it as soon as we got out of the friendly confines of BLA. Each wave we hit cast an icy spritz of sea water across the three of us, as we shielded our eyes and blindly push forward towards our island target. We were cold though, and I was driving as fast as possible (which was not very fast) in an effort to shorten the amount of time spent shivering, knowing this was trip 1 of 4 I would be making that day. As we got further out into the channel, the waves got bigger. Our little boat was smacking into them like a jet ski at a summer lake weekend-- can you imagine it? Boom, boom, boom-- jarring our individual spinal chords as we braced for splash after splash coming in over the bow. The series of swells themselves got bigger until we were right about in the middle of the channel and we went boom, Boom, BOOM, and the engine stopped. Just as the boat smacked back onto the water, nose down into the upcoming wave, water spilling over the front of the bow, into the small cavity in which we were sitting. My first thought, we are going to sink. But the nose bobbed back up, and the water stopped spilling in. Michelle yelled "Bail bucket!!!" and started furiously scooping up water and throwing it overboard. Jesse suggested now might be a good time to put on our life preservers, so we pulled out the three gigantic, fluorescent orange old school life jackets from the hold and put them on. We tried to turn the key in the engine, and heard bupkes (that's yiddish for absolutely nothing). I asked where the paddles were so we could start paddling against the current which was going to be drawing us out to deeper waters in the middle of the sea. As Michelle and I paddled, Jesse was wedged between us on the tiny seat. He pulled his hat down over his ears in utter dismay and predicted "We are all going to die." Of course we weren't going to DIE die, but there was a reasonable chance that we were going to drift out to sea, which in turn could have led to all kinds of other problems (capsizing, starving, cannibalism, etc.) So we paddled furiously with collapsible mini-paddles in a vain effort to at least stay in the same place. For a moment, we took solace in the fact that at least one member of our crew was still on shore (Matt), and would surely realize, at some point, that we were missing and call for help. We quickly lost any sliver of consolation that provided when we realized we had never really talked with Matt about some kind of time frame in which he should expect our return, and given the whole signaling debacle the night before, the possibility he would be proactive about some kind of rescue seemed low. And so we paddled. Furiously. To stay put (right about where the yellow star is on the map).
Jesse's cynicism about the utility of paddling was extreme enough that he refused to do it, and was therefore freed up to think about other options. He suggested we try starting the boat one more time, but potentially after waiting a while in case the engine was flooded. We all agreed this would be ideal if it worked, so in the meantime we kept paddling and bailing and discussing the options, if the engine wasn't going to start. I volunteered to swim. In response, Jesse suggested tying himself to the anchor and throwing himself overboard. Michelle kept bailing and paddling and shivering and apologizing for bringing us out on the Sea of Cortez in this god-foresaken boat. If things did go wrong, this would not be the first accident at sea claiming the lives of biologists (see this article on Gary Polis and collaborators who capsized in this very sea about 10 years ago), so we were not completely panicked, but we were intensely reviewing all the options. After about 20 minutes of waiting patiently to start the engine, we gave it a try. It rumbled, and failed. We tried again, and it started. Halleluah!!! We had no idea what was wrong with it, and we could only putter, but putter we did. Straight back to the peninsula, vowing that if we made it to land we would never take this boat out on the Sea of Cortez again.
At this point, you might be asking yourself-- are they ever going to make it onto the islands to catch snakes? We were wondering the same thing. Stay tuned for Day 3 to find out....

Spring Break, Day 1: Bahia de Los Angeles

Things have been quiet at Chez Schaackmobile lately because I have been on the road. As many of you know, I can’t resist an invitation to join friends in their field work. This weakness has provided me with many travel opportunities and tons of fun over the years, so when I was invited to go collect rattlesnakes on desert islands in the Sea of Cortez, the answer, of course, was Yes! Lack of freshwater? No problem! Venomous snakes? Yes, please! Unpredictable ocean currents? There is nothing I love more!
Admittedly, our 4000-mile odyssey got off to a kind of rough start. The crew consisted of me, three snake aficionado biologists (Jesse Meik, Michelle Lawing, and Matt Ingrasci), and one dog. Michelle is a grad student at IU in Biology and Geology, and she and I were friends in Bloomington (she had come there from Arlington, and I was heading to Arlington, so she tried to prep me for it the best she could). She and Jesse have collaborated for years on various projects, and most recently have been working on body size evolution in rattlesnakes. Matt is Jesse’s roommate and loves herps (reptiles and amphibians, for those unfamiliar with the jargon) more than anything else in life, other than his dog. The goal of the trip was to go about halfway down the Baja peninsula and venture out to 3 islands (of the 120 that make up the archipelago in this sea) and catch Crotalus mitchelli—commonly known as speckled rattlesnakes. These snakes are found on lots of the islands and, interestingly, their size correlates with the area of the island on which they are found. Although they rattle when you get dangerously close, finding the snakes is not trivial. They are nocturnal, cryptic, venomous, and quick. My love of joining friends at their field sites has given me several opportunities to catch herps in the past (turtles and iguanas), but this was my first time snake hunting.
In order to get to the islands, you need a boat. On their last collecting trip, Jesse and Michelle had paid fishermen to take them to the islands, drop them off, and come back 1-3 days later to pick them up. Because we had four people (and the dog), lots more gear, a tight schedule, and a tight budget, Michelle had thought it might be more convenient if we had our own boat rather than paying fisherman for each individual trip-- so she bought one, on ebay. The boat she bought can most accurately be described as a glorified waverunner. It was about 14 ft. long, and it only cost $2500. In reality, it cost nothing at all because, even though the advertisement for it claimed the engine “worked great” and it ran perfectly on the lake “last weekend”, when she picked the boat up after purchasing it, it didn’t work at all. Thankfully, ebay’s buyer protection policy meant that she got to keep the boat, and got her money back. Of course fixing it then cost $3000, so the boat didn’t really cost nothing afterall, but she got the repairs done and hooked up the trailer to her Ford Taurus and drove 900 miles to Arlington to kick off the trip.
To transport the boat, the crew, the gear and the dog to Baja, we took two vehicles. Our rough start included probably about 6 stops at various Walmarts between here and the Mexican border in an attempt to try and find replacement trailer tires for those shredded by some combination of sun, low air pressure, and age in the first few hundred miles of our drive. I can't help but put in a shameless plug for PepBoys here, as it is the second time they have helped me out personally, for free, when in a pickle on the road.
Eventually, we got into Mexico, and made a late night push for Bahia de Los Angeles (BLA) in order to try and make up for lost time. BLA boasts "no banks, no doctors, and no ATMS" on a sign in town, but they have plenty of fish taco stands and provide the best home base for exploring these particular islands. By the next afternoon, we had permits in hand and decided to take the boat out for a test run to one of the islands, just to make sure it was sea worthy. We loaded up ourselves, the bare essentials for an afternoon on a desert island, and the dog and were able to travel at a mighty clip of about 10 mph out to Smith Island, the closest of the three to the peninsula. The waves were moderate that afternoon, but the boat is designed so that the passengers will get splashed, for fun. So even medium waves meant we were all soaked, and surprisingly cold, by the time we landed on the island. No matter! It's the desert, we were going to dry quickly. When we arrived, we dropped anchor in a small bay and unloaded everything on to the beach. We split up and set out, even though it was the middle of the afternoon and probably an unlikely time to find snakes. The island was gorgeous-- rocky slopes, winding gullies, a lagoon, dramatic intertidal zone-- all surrounded by perfectly clear, deep turquoise water, blue sky, and sunshine. After a few hours, we reconvened at the bay where we arrived and found the boat beached. No problem! We dislodged it, piled in, started the engine, heard a terrible sound, and headed out of the bay at a slow crawl, from which we never were able to break free. About an hour later-- again soaked (even while puttering, the spray over the bow was significant), we got to the beach where we had left our vehicles and dropped anchor. We unloaded Matt, Jesse, the dog, and the gear and Michelle and I set out to continue puttering towards town, where there was a boatramp where we would be able to get the boat out of the water and to a mechanic to find out what was wrong. It was dusk, and we were wet and cold, but double-wide optimism is not a property of the schaackmobile alone, and we figured we'd get to warm up in a few minutes when we got the boat out of the water.
So we puttered towards town, where we were going to meet Matt with his truck. About 20 minutes later, still far from our destination, but long after Matt had departed for it, the engine of the boat cut out and refused to restart. We were about 20 yards offshore, in about 5 feet of water, and I realized immediately that if we got any deeper, I wouldn't be able to touch, and we would have no control over where the boat was going. So I jumped in the water, Michelle threw me a rope, and I began to tow the boat manually down the coast towards town, but eagerly in search of a boat ramp closer by. The sun set.
At some point, Jesse realized it was strange that we had not made it to the boat ramp yet and came looking along the coast for us with the Taurus. He found us and we told him about the dead engine and the freezing our butts off. He went to try and find Matt (who had the trailer) while I played human anchor offshore. The tide was going out, so in order not to beach the boat, we had to stay further and further from shore. The stars came out.
Meanwhile, Matt had started to realize it was weird that we never arrived at the boat ramp and started cruising along the coast in search of us. At one point, he saw a boat in the water and flashed his headlights to see if it was us. We saw the lights, and thought-- Hurray! When we did not signal back (which we couldn't do with a broken boat and no flashlights), Matt decided it must not be us, and turned back towards town. One by one, houses turned off their lights.
Eventually, Jesse found Matt, and they found us, and we got the boat out of the water, and got dry and got warm. I asked the tipsy Californian who let us use their boat ramp (instead of towing it on foot the additional ~3km into town) who the best mechanic in BLA was and he said Pancho Verduga. So we were optimistic once again, and ready for day two.

Specks of Gold Amid the Coal Dust (or Music in the Metroplex)

I am a music lover. Amidst the seedy, traffic-filled, overly-paved underbelly of the endless business park/strip mall that is the metroplex, one thing that I have found to delight me here in north central Texas is lots and lots of music and music love. Last week I saw two great shows-- on Friday night, The (extremely well-named) Future Unlived unhinged for a fantastic, latenight show in Dallas and Saturday I was serenaded by the Earlybirds-- which includes my friend Petra on violin and is led by a singer/songwriter named Teddy Georgia Waggy-- in Denton. Yes, that is her real name, but don't judge-- it was awesome. What more could a girl ask for than live music, once a day, like a vitamin? Not much. Next week is the 2nd annual north Texas alternative to South by Southwest (SXSW), a music conference most of you probably already know about that is held each spring down in Austin. North by 35 (NX35), as it's called, is a music "conferette" that aims to bring even more outside-the-mainstream talent to light by organizing a long weekend of back-to-back bands at all the venues in downtown Denton. Much of it is a little bit on the harder, western edge of my musical tastes, but there is also the characteristic "Denton sound" (perhaps most widely known now due to the growing popularity of Midlake) which isn't harsh at all. I will definitely be heading up for one night of shows, before heading out into the field. The FIELD, you ask? Indeed. For those of you that thought I had hung up my waders for good with all this genomics and bioinformatics business, I beg for reconsideration. Next weekend I am heading to Mexico to help catch rattlesnakes on desert islands in the Sea of Cortez. I am pretty sure Cortez, himself, did this very same thing at some point long ago, and thereby got a sea named after him. I don't expect such fame or riches, but I do expect to enjoy a week in the great wide open and some awesome mexican food. More on music and other mayhem, coming soon.

Flashback to 1996: The Land of Milk and Honey

Although my career as a biologist officially started about one year ago when I finished school and began my post-doc here in Texas, there was a brief period after college when I worked as a research assistant at several places all over the world while I decided what I wanted to do in graduate school. The first of these intense, and intensely fun, jobs was at Kellogg Biological Station in Hickory Corners, Michigan (bottom center). Last week, I had the unique opportunity to go back to this very special place because my dear friend Idelle (bottom right) is now a post-doc at KBS. When I was there, I used to refer to it as the land of milk and honey because I loved it so. My job consisted of fishing in lakes, snorkeling around the experimental ponds, and counting Daphnia in petri dishes in the lab. I had spent my childhood summers in Michigan as well, a few hours away on the beach on the great lake, and this first-job-after-college was about as close to that summertime bliss as one could find, while still earning a paycheck. Summer days are long in Michigan, and very romantic-- fireflies, local dairy-produced ice cream, and lots of time in lakes, which I love the most. Going back to KBS and seeing the myriad student pictures and posters lining the hallway-- mostly people who have come through for summer jobs or programs, or perhaps a few years of graduate study-- made me realize that few, if any, of the people that come through this place have very large of an effect on it. In contrast, the impact KBS had on me, even as an inanimate entity that simply brings all those transients together, was profound. I had dinner with Idelle, Gary Mittelbach (the head of the lab where I worked 14 years ago), and Kay Gross (another professor, and now the director of the station). It was so fun to talk about the old days and some of the more prominent characters in the colorful, panoramic history of KBS. While visiting, I also got to go to seminar (given by Idelle on upcoming projects), hear about recent experiments going on in the ponds, and attend a lab meeting where they discussed a paper on the evolution of plant traits that optimize hummingbird pollination efficiency. In a way, it was like a little visit to my old life and, as much as I enjoyed it, it was also a pleasant confirmation that I enjoy the very different things that I work on now too. As always, it was fun to make Gary Mittelbach laugh-- a favorite pastime of mine in the lab in the summer of 1996. Idelle lives in the old gatekeeper's house which is beautiful (bottom left; the grounds of KBS used to be the summer estate of the Kellogg family), and visiting KBS for the first time in the winter provided the opportunity to see the beauty of this place in a new way-- on skis and covered in snow. It was such a cool combination of flashback and new experience, and provided a surprisingly harmonious feeling as I embark on my so-called career, now more in earnest. I doubt I will have many other chances to revisit intense and intensely fun past chapters of my life in this way, but I enjoyed doing so this time and highly recommend it if you have a similar opportunity. Thank you for such a lovely visit Idelle!

Giving Credit Where Credit is Due

Lots to share this week-- first of all, like most of the country, it is SNOWING here! Unlike most of the country, I am thrilled about it! Arlington can be a beautiful, heavenly oasis-- but only when encased in snow, which is extremely rare. If I had an office window, I'd think I was on top of the world today. As it is, I am thinking of sending out a department-wide email to propose a lunchtime snowball fight in the parking lot. You know-- grad students, professors, administrators, staff-- there is probably a lot of pent up frustration between these factions that could be worked out with a few well-place pelts with mounds of snow. It's a cure-all!

In other news, tomorrow is my friend Britt's birthday (I am celebrating with her in spirit in Las Vegas this weekend where we are undoubtedly, in spirit, going to do all kinds of things that will "stay in Vegas", also in spirit). Britt is the best friend and best colleague one could ever hope to have-- here we are united in recreation and science in front of an aptly-named shop in Chicago last summer. Happy Bday B!!!!
Only slightly more famously, Feb. 12th is also Charles Darwin's birthday. This was an especially big deal last year, even among non-biologists, because it was Darwin's 200th bday (if he were still alive, which you'd think a bunch of biologists would agree is a silly concept) and the 150th anniversary of his most famous book, On the Origin of Species (conveniently published when he was exactly 50 years old, so two centuries later biologists and museum curators could go especially crazy celebrating their even-numbered anniversaries.) Now, don't get me wrong-- I love Charlie Darwin (check out the Low Anthem's song about him that I have posted in the upper right hand corner, in fact). And if you want to read about his amazing insights, there are plenty of other blogs where you can do that I am sure. He somehow managed to casually "notice" every major tenet of biology that has emerged in the last 200 years, long before it became clear to most biologists, simply by walking around his gardens, collecting beetles, raising pigeons, and blogging (I mean, writing in his journal). He is most famous for elucidating how changes in species occur over time:

"It may be said that natural selection is daily and hourly scrutinizing, throughout the world, every variation, even the slightest; rejecting that which is bad, preserving and adding up all that is good; silently and insensibly working, wherever and whenever opportunity offers, at the improvement of each organic being in relation to its organic and inorganic conditions of life."
—On the Origin of Species by Means of Natural Selection, 1859

HOWEVER, this principle was also "noticed" by another biologist, halfway around the world at the time-- Alfred Russel Wallace. I recently saw a great talk by Oscar Flores on Wallace outlining how his background (poor vs. rich) and adventures abroad (long vs. short) differed so dramatically from Darwin's, but how they both managed to converge on the concept of natural selection independently. In fact, Wallace had written a letter to Darwin describing his ideas which arrived just days before the final draft of On the Origin was disseminated (with lots of apparent last minute additions to the text which may have been the result of reading this letter.) The timelines of their independent development of the idea are radically different, fascinating, and too lengthy for me to describe in detail here, but what is certain is that the fruition of their ideas was simultaneous (at best, for Darwin), and the subsequent aftermath was just as dissimilar as the lead up, perhaps because of the rich vs. poor difference mentioned earlier. As you know, Charles Darwin is famous worldwide as the grandfather of evolutionary theory, while A. R. Wallace is a relative unknown outside the field of biology.
What was most moving to me about the talk was Oscar's final slide, with this quote from a letter Darwin wrote to Wallace shortly before he died:

"I hope it is a satisfaction to reflect - and very few things in my life have been more satisfactory to me - that we have never felt any jealousy towards each other, though in some sense rivals. I believe I can say this of myself with truth, and I am absolutely sure that it is true of you".

Wallace's birthday was Jan 8th-- he would have turned 187 if he were still alive. My goal is to elevate public knowledge of Wallace's contribution to biological understanding sufficiently by 2023 so that we can at least have another excuse for a bunch of geeky biology parties.
Even Darwin agrees with me, as he wrote about Wallace's 1864 paper:

"It is really admirable, but you ought not... to speak of the theory as mine; it is just as much yours as mine".

All that said, I *do* love this poster:

Miami Valley Pottery

I have been meaning to blog about this for some time-- my dear friend Naysan is a potter in Yellow Springs, OH. If you have never been there, you should go because YS is the coolest town in the state-- a little tree-huggin', peace-lovin' (etc. etc. for all you Todd fans) hippie town that loves the arts and people from all walks of life, nestled in the most unlikely swathe of the midwest-- just north of the bible belt to be exact. It has a beautiful small downtown and lots of trees and is home to the very-cool-but-now-defunct college, Antioch, which was legendary in its day for free thought, protest, and alternatives to everything. Naysan McIlhargey is half Persian and half Irish-- a beautiful genotypic and phenotypic combination that is as welcoming and exotic as it sounds. He has been an artist since before we met in college and, in fact, we took Introduction to Ceramics together in the spring of 1994. It was a 2-hour class that started at 8 am. I usually rolled in with tousled hair around 9, and Naysan would be at the wheel, gesturing with his clay-covered hands towards whatever he had brought me for breakfast from the cafeteria because, not only could I not be bothered to come to class on time, I had missed breakfast. If that's not love and loyalty as a friend, you tell me what is. I would love to brag that I saw Naysan's talent long before everyone else, but that isn't true. Everyone saw it, and we all saw it right away. Now, he has his own studio, kiln, and shop called Miami Valley Pottery in Yellow Springs (the town from whence he came) and he is sharing his uncanny ability to combine earth, aesthetic, and necessity into beautiful pieces of ceramic with the world. If you are near there, you should go say hi and tell him Schaack sent you. He will give you an enormous hug and show you his incredible endeavors-- which include the ability to make 100 pots in a single day if he so chooses. He might also introduce you to his lovely wife Jalana and their daughter Bli who recently joined in the fun from her home country in Madasgascar. I can't say enough about how beautiful Naysan, his family, and his art are, but I encourage you to check it out if you're ever tooling around those parts-- it will be memorable and delightful, I promise.

Where to begin?

Well folks, it's been a busy week in Lake Woebegone. It's actually hard to decide where to start my gushing because there were so many delights this past week, but it is always safe to start with Todd Snider. Last thursday, I went to see my favorite performer and it did not disappoint. Todd played with a full band, which I had never seen before (given some of the funny looks exchanged by the members of the band, it was unclear whether *they* and Todd had seen each other before). But it was great-- he leaned away from most of my melancholic favorites towards those songs which more readily lend themselves to a full band/honky tonk interpretation. It was still peppered with some of his absolute best though and it was fun to see such a different energy level from someone I have seen so many times. In addition to the bliss that is seeing Todd Snider live, there were two good opening bands (The Trishas, especially-- look for them on this year's lake CD and see them pictured below). The highlight of the evening for me, however, was the encore, and then the second encore. The encore was all three bands coming out on stage and singing Bob Dylan's Knocking on Heaven's Door which made me think I had died and gone to heaven. The second encore was Elvis (Todd's longtime roadie) coming out in full Elvis (the King) regalia to sing Hounddog with everyone on back-up vocals. He brought the house down.

The weekend, of course, also marked Betsy McCabe's induction into the SHOF (schaackmobile hall of fame). Her visit coincided with the Fort Worth Stock Show, one of the largest in the country, where we saw gigantic and miniature versions of many different kinds of animals (in addition to normal-sized ones, but those aren't nearly as interesting.) We got to see tons of cool stuff about how the other half lives (by "other half", I mean the legions of kids who grow up showing animals, their parents, horse breeders, cowboys, etc.) You must imagine the scene for a minute to appreciate what a cultural experience this actually was: a giant hall full of thousands of people and livestock pens with a small arena in the middle where 11 year-old girls (primarily) in western-style shirts and sparkly belts tugged on the necks of their beloved animals while making extremely serious eye contact with even more serious livestock judges who circled around looking at the flanks of these domesticated beasts. Everyone was on the edge of their seats waiting to find out who would be crowned the winner based on some mysterious criteria I still don't quite understand. Amidst the anticipation, Betsy and I are watching and chatting, until we realized we weren't really sure what we are looking at and exclaim (aloud) "Wait a minute, are these goats or are these sheep?!" Everyone else in the bleachers who was watching must have thought we were kidding or we were idiots. Unfortunately, we weren't kidding.

It was lucky for me that the stock show was going on or else I would have somehow had to figure out how to entertain Betsy in the midst of the Metroplex (or as she put it-- the world's business park capital) during a coldsnap. In addition to the stock show, we also celebrated our spirit animal (owls, sparkly owls preferably) at a pub in Arlington with friends on Friday night (us with Carol, pictured below). It was great to have her here and quite a coup for the SHOF to receive such rave reviews from its most skeptical inductee. High praise included comments like: "I slept like a baby!" and "I didn't even have to pee outside!" As a result, the SHOF is currently preparing for a deluge of potential inductees. Thanks for coming Bets!

Ode to Austin and Welcome to the World Maitland Curiosity!

Your delinquent blogger is here, reporting for duty. The last few weeks have been a mixture of excitement and challenge here at post-doc-trailer-park central. Lots of good tidings workwise, but sometimes even 75 degree sunny weather can't completely fend of a case of the winter blues. But I think I broke the spell Sunday when I went down to Austin for the day to see my friends Stacy and Kristal. Oh, Austin. If only the rest of Texas were more like you. Actually, I am not so concerned about the rest of Texas. I would be happy if just Arlington were more like you. One of the highlights of my day was going to Twin Falls-- a spot along Barton Creek just south of town surrounded on either side by cedar bluffs and hiking trails. The creek is swollen right now and more clear than any other river I've seen in the state. It was spectacularly beautiful, and those of you who know me know there is little I enjoy more than being near running water. I was accompanied by two very cool people I just met (Austin is full of friendly, interesting people), Heather and Heyd (pronounced like the word 'hide'). I got to hike a little, wade in the water, and enjoy good conversation in the sunshine. On a scale from 1 to 10, Sunday was an 11. (To illustrate my glee, here's a pic Heyd snapped with his iphone from a rock outcropping in the river-- he is a painter and does art direction for movies, which clearly explains why his iphone picture is sooooo much better than any of the ones I ever post.)
In other news, the schaackmobile hall of fame is readying itself for another inductee this weekend and we have our entire staff working overtime in preparation! Betsy McCabe-- lover of comfort and all things four star-- is going to make her maiden voyage to Texas this week for a conference. Her visit will crescendo with a night at the one and only Chez Schaackmobile (I need to remember to buy candies for her pillow-- because inductees know we might not have a monopoly on luxury, but we have no shortage of pillows!) Anyway, Betsy's much anticipated visit might be followed by an impromptu visit from the Weinberg family (Joanna, Jonathan, and their most recent addition, Maitland Curiosity). At two weeks old, if I somehow convince Joanna to stay overnight in the trailer, her daughter MC would most certainly hold the world record for youngest schaackmobile hall of famer of all time. Who wouldn't want to start their kids down a path of lifelong achievement that way? Route your road trip my way if you can guys!

Introducing the one and only (no doubt!), ...Maitland Curiosity Weinberg.

Impaired by Your Convictions

I'm happy to announce that my friends Jeff Streicher and Jesse Meik of Jude the Innocent fame (and the proprietors of Lab of Luxury Records, the recording studio that generously helped get the DWO EP off the ground) have released their long-awaited album-- Impaired by Your Convictions. Their songs blend elements of all the main subcategories of rock: acoustic, progressive, classic, folk, indie, and, of course, glam. I love the album and encourage music lovers interested in a sonically winding, unorthodox-but-classic listening experience to get a copy and see what they've cooked up (it's available on cdbaby, itunes, amazon, or you can get one directly from them through me if you want an actual CD to hold in your hands). Their sound is hard to pigeonhole, but if you took the rawness of the Violent Femmes and crossed it with the panache of The Clash, back-crossed that to the uniqueness of Okkervil River, and then inbred it by marrying it to its 2nd cousin, (insert your favorite band name here), you might have something that sounded like Jude the Innocent. Check them out! My favorite song is Suffer the Ride, if you want to hear, click below.

Happy Anniversary to Me

Today marks one year since I attached the trailer to my car and started south from Bloomington to/with my new home here in Texas-- can you believe it? So far, so good. The trailer is still standing, the schaackmobile hall of fame boasts a whopping 21 inductees (last night's visit from my friend Steve Freedberg and 16 of his students boosted the tent division number from 1 to 18, which helps), and I couldn't be happier about the minimalist lifestyle I have adopted since coming down this way. The feelings of independence, unclutteredness, simplicity, liberation, and outside-lovingness completely trump the occasional claustrophobia. The last 24 hours provided an excellent crucible for why this is a good idea-- a cold snap in Texas means I run the space heater a little higher in the trailer, a cold snap in Indiana meant the pipes burst and the garage flooded. The whole experiment has mainly left me wondering-- why didn't I do this sooner? And, will I ever stop?

Here is a recent picture of my homestead on a crisp winter morning-- isn't she a beaut?

Spooky Folk-- not just a musical genre, but a fantastic band!

Just a quick post to share my excitement about Spooky Folk, a band playing this Thursday in Dallas at a legendary venue in Deep Ellum called Trees that just reopened. Deep Ellum is a rather mythic neighborhood-- born to industrial warehouse parents, ...supplanted by an early childhood mash-up of black and jewish businesses colliding into each other like kids and coffee tables, ...fast-forward to rebellious, teenage years dominated by punk, ...eventually rising to its commercially successful zenith as a music district in the 90's,... only to crash under its own weight due to a midlife crisis of epic proportions during the now-defunct oughts. These days, the neighborhood is sowing the seeds of what will hopefully be a full-blossomed renaissance. The origin of the name Deep Ellum is somewhat steeped in mystery, but it is thought to be an elongate, fossilized twist on deep Elm, the main street running through the neighborhood, which was far (deep) from the central goings-on in downtown Dallas at the time. But this area provided an alternative epicenter for marginalized minorities like African Americans and Eastern European Jews-- both essential parts of the burgeoning economy in Dallas at the beginning of the last century, but maligned socially by the staid, classist hierarchy of the true downtown. In 1937, Deep Ellum was famously described as the one "spot in the city that needs no daylight saving time because there is no bedtime.... The only place recorded on earth where business, religion, hoodooism, gambling and stealing goes on at the same time without friction." From what I have seen so far, that description still applies.

But what about the band, man? Recently, I went up to Denton-- my favorite place in Texas-- to see Spooky Folk, whom I had seen perform previously several months ago. Do you know how awesome it is to watch a band blossom?? Much like a neighborhood's renaissance, only faster. When I saw SF in the summer, they were good, but when I saw them in Denton a few weeks ago, they were GREAT. They are an amazing combination of rambunctious and pure, eerie and familiar, inviting and unprecedented. My two favorite things about the band are their ability to generate fervor and the entanglement of the lead singer's transcendent voice (Kaleo, above right) and the gently, uncoiling, melodies and effects of the violin (played by Petra Kelly, below). They even played one song with the recent must-have instrument of so many bands, the melodica (below). It is so cool to watch/hear them fasten down certain parts of their sound, while unleashing the sails and letting other parts fly free. The most recent show I saw them play was packed, and everyone in the room knew all the words to all the songs-- I couldn't help but imagine their delight looking out into that crowd and seeing the hoedown they had incited! Their performance at Trees will undoubtedly be another rivet in the building of this band and their sound and I can't wait to hear. If for some reason you are reading this and you live near here-- come with me-- I promise it'll be a real barn burner!

photo credits: unknown, Jason Janik, Danny Fulgencio (2x), and me