Vanessa's Journal

 

Jan. 31, 2010

January recap

 

Well, here we are, at the end of January. It is a good time to take stock of what has happened so far this field season. The traps were open for 19 days this month. In that time, we managed to attract a number of resident red pandas and some leopard cats. This does not include the families of squirrels and birds that now make our traps their permanent feeding sites.

One particular squirrel I know has become increasingly overweight as we spoil it with a seemingly unlimited supply of goat meat. Unfortunately, the giant pandas so far are eluding us. But we are not to be deterred and are gearing up for more trapping over the course of the next two months.

Today, the last day of January, was an exciting one. We started out the day with a tripped signal from one of our traps. This means that an animal had set off a trap by biting on the meat we had set up as bait inside. Most mornings, I roll out of bed and saunter outside just as the sun starts to come up to check the trap signals, all the while trying to wake myself up and get in gear for the day’s hike. I plug in the frequency of each trap transmitter into my receiver and hold up the antenna while listening intently to the familiar sound of the trap transmitters beeping to their little hearts’ content. I wait for a rapid signal that is twice the normal speed, which tells me that the trap is closed. While such a signal does not come often, when it does happen, it significantly changes the trajectory of our day to come. Because we never know what animal is inside, we have to hike ourselves to the trap in question to find out.

So far this season we have had three trap closures. That is a pretty good record for having only 19 trapping days. The first was set off by a red panda, which I documented in a previous journal entry. The second was likely a leopard cat, but the cat ran out of one of the small holes in the trap before we got there. So we were left just scratching our heads at the empty trap. Today, I was ever so hopeful that the third time would be the charm.

The trap transmitter system we have going this year works well in the sense that before we start the day, we know whether a trap in question is closed. The emotional roller coaster is thus a little bit different from previous years. In the past, I would hike to each trap with anticipation, wondering if it would be closed. Now, we know for certain whether the trap is closed before even beginning our daily hike. The question is, what animal is inside? So when there is a day that is marked by a trap closure, a special sort of energy fills the field station beginning with breakfast time. Everyone wants to know which animal we caught. We all wonder… could this be the day?

I usually start out this kind of day with a sense of pragmatism. After being rejected so many times in the past, it is easier to set oneself up for a run-of-the-mill kind of day, rather than feeling crestfallen when we do not succeed yet again. But it is difficult to keep this up as the day wears on. As we hike closer and closer to the trap in question, my mind starts to wonder. I start to reflect on all of the time we have spent in the field up to this point. I start to think back on all of the work that has been put in to get to this point. And I start to wonder if we will in fact beat the odds and succeed on this day. I become cautiously optimistic. I dare to imagine the seemingly impossible.

Today, it was simply not to be. We came upon the closed trap, only to peek inside and find it completely empty. My field partner suspected that it was a squirrel or ferret that had pulled on our trapping bait, only to escape out of the trap holes minutes later. We were left to sit and take in the depressing sight of an empty trap. It took us a few minutes of digesting this information before we were able to start our work of re-setting the trap for the next unsuspecting animal target. We both let out a collective sigh and had to accept the fact that the giant pandas would have to wait for another day.