Yep. It took me 74 minutes to write the words seventy four minutes.
That's how long I have sat here fumbling....trying to get this blog outta my head.
Writing usually comes easy for me when I'm inspired. And though I'm inspired to write a really kick-butt blog for what I am hoping becomes a long series of ramblings about all things good and wild, I can't help but feel uninspired by my surroundings.
Yes, here I sit, in the warm cozy comforts of my living room, well after midnight, draped in a fleece blanket, gas-fireplace masquerading as a long lost friend, and a trusty old Dell, ablaze on my lap bathing me in lukewarm artificial light. Don't get me wrong...'tis quite comfortable. Is it inspiring though? Not in the very least.
So what do I need for inspiration?
Simple...
I need my work.
I absolutely love my job. Hence, my job inspires me.
You see...I'm one of those lucky few that wake up in the morning actually wanting to go to work. Not only that, I'm that sick individual that prefers to think about work even when its well past quittin' time. I despise days off (Ha!...okay I'm lying) but I really do look forward to Mondays.
Call me blessed... Call me lucky... Call me spoiled... Call me crazy...
Yes... I am all of those.
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| Photo courtesy of nsrl.ttu.edu |
Here's the scoop. Every since I was a wee little boy I loved the outdoors. I had an overly extreme fascination with animals. Drawing them came first. Next came the realization that you can learn really cool stuff about them. I think it was the first time I saw a litter of 'possums posing for a picture in the convex depression of a spoon, I was hooked. Though when I think about it now...I really don't think those poor little guys had much of a choice in getting their picture taken.
Deciding what to do with my life was never in question. When my Dad, bless his stubborn and sometimes crotchety soul, fought for me to get an offer at a pretty darn good paying factory job...it was a simple response I made... "I love you Dad, but I'm NOT following in your footsteps."
You see Dad, you busted your butt your whole life to earn those few weeks vacation every year. You took me and the rest of your kids camping...and hunting...and hiking...and fishing. And you instilled my passions, my loves...my inspiration.
You knew everything there was to know about those wonderful animals I so loved. And believe it or not, it wasn't until I got to college that I finally realized your animal "facts" were.... well, not really full of many facts.
But I didn't care. I loved being in the outdoors and I promised myself, if I could live your vacation...that's exactly what I was going to do. And here I am...
A career wildlife biologist...the greatest job in the world.
I live breathe, eat and sleep all things wild. I marvel at the fact that throughout my career I have been challenged with some amazing projects. A decade ago, I was on a team darting elk in preparation for a restocking effort, the best part of that study, playing decoy for the American bison that were way too inquisitive of the downed animals. A few years ago, I was trying to find out how many bears call the Cumberland Plateau home. While a few months ago, I was discussing a behavioral study of mountain lions on the Valles caldera in the Southern Rockies. And just yesterday, wondering if we need to provide added protections for the Goat Peak Pika in that same region. In case you don't know, it's a rabbity looking animal that lives in the alpine-tunda regions of the high peaks. And tomorrow? Heck, who knows what tomorrow holds...but I promise you I will be there not believing I'm getting paid for what I'm doing.
How cool is that?
Anyhow...I'm beginning to ramble...
Do I love my job?
Yes...Yes I do.
It inspires me.
Am I crazy?
Considering it is now 2:34 a.m.
...I'll leave that one alone.
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