the transient lives of young biologists

[transientbiologists]

the starting point

Traveling, age 17; 2010

I was a highly individualistic teenager. I hated other people trying to explain to me who I was. You know what I mean? People telling you, ‘oh, you’ve got a dream, but it’ll never happen’. Nothing pissed me off more than people that hardly knew me trying to impose limits or restrictions on my life. Who could know what I was capable besides myself? How dare they? Despite being shy and frequently anxious, I was also deeply confident in my own capabilities and my own vision. No one could shake me from it.

The only problem was that when I was 16, 17 years old - I wasn’t sure what my vision was - only that I knew who I was and I knew who I wanted to be.

People would ask me what I wanted to study. I could only answer three things - 1.) I did not want to be stuck in one place for the rest of my life, let alone spend another whole year cooped up in my hometown. Which - though it’s now becoming an indie music enclave - was boring when I was a teenager.

2.) I would not settle for a domestic life. I didn’t want to be a homemaker or wife. I even cringed at the idea of a stable office job. The idea of commitment terrified me to the point it made my skin crawl. Props to all of you that married or started serious careers in your early 20s and stuck with’em. At 26, I am more hospitable to the notion of commitment - but still am terrified of being trapped or stuck - while still wanting authority and security within my career. Walking contradiction.

3.) If pushed, when people asked me what I wanted to be, I’d reply, “Indiana Jones.” I mean, his life seemed pretty cool. College professor by day, professional adventurer by night.

At the time, I also thought I was bad at science. If you were to tell me ten years ago that I’d get a Master’s degree in environmental science with a focus on wildlife disease, I guarantee I wouldn’t believe it. But maybe I’d smile a little. I think I’d be pretty damn proud to know who I’ve become

But I knew I wanted to leave. I knew I couldn’t truly be myself in my home environment, as loving and encouraging as my family is. It irked me when teachers tried to encourage me otherwise.

I remember my 9th grade math teacher wandering around the classroom and guessing where everyone would be in 10 years.

“Amanda,” she said approaching me, “You’re a Buffalo gal.”

I paled. Yeah, I wore Sabres paraphernalia a lot. But I was angry. “That’s not me at all,” I told her, unable to express just why it irritated me so much. I saw myself as someone that would see the world - not just another Sabres fan with a snow shovel.

I still remember the way she said it, the way she looked at me. She didn’t mean any harm in it, but I felt so suddenly volatile and angry - I didn’t know what to do with myself. I was pissed the rest of the day.

As a senior in 2010, I recounted my experience to my theatre teacher in her new library office. “I want to leave,” I told her desperately as she encouraged me to pursue local schools. I felt like a chained up dog. I needed to get away. I got into two schools out of the area - NYU, and New Paltz. I was torn up. NYU! NYU. How could I have gotten into NYU?

They didn’t offer any award. I couldn’t afford to go. I was angry and frustrated. I felt like my entire adolescence had been sacrificed to caring for others at this point and I was itching to be selfish, desperate to claim something for myself. But I couldn’t have my dream school. I had betrayed myself, and the people that teased me for having such "wild” dreams earned a point in me sacrificing one of my goals.

My second choice was a State University in a small Hudson Valley town. Even that seemed better than attending college with a group of people I felt didn’t believe in me.

“So leave,” she said. “But have you ever heard what they say?” she spoke with a sort of mysterious quality. “Buffalo is temptress that keeps calling you back.”

This teacher’s premonition didn’t inspire anger. She knew me better than some of my closest friends. I had a short fuse, though; I hated being controlled or being bossed around. I wanted to lash out, but couldn’t. Even so, her words felt more ethereal.

She was right about running away to a school without understanding what my career path would be.

I think it’s madness to even be encouraged to decide on a career path at 17 or 18 years old.

I still graduated university on time, so I didn’t exactly throw away money. But I did spend a year hundreds of miles away from home without gaining any experience in my chosen field.

I don’t regret it. I took courses that helped shape my worldview. I studied international relations, Swahili, creative writing, theatre, music, and anthropology. I leaned toward technical theatre and anthropology.

My peers were unique and creative, typically drawn to my first university for their arts programs. We were an hour or so out of New York City and I thought I’d somehow have the time and money to take my guitar to New York City and busque in Washington Square Park.

Many of them were also wealthier, and I felt put on the spot for other reasons. I exaggerated the number of times I’d been to Poland, saying I’d gone every year rather than the mere four times I’d been by 18. I wanted them to think I was cool, but I was a late bloomer and often though I still looked like a little kid. I felt isolated and fake.

I did make some good friends while I was there. I lived on the edge. I indulged in party culture and spent late nights playing guitar. I found that I couldn’t devote myself to technical theatre the way I thought I would.

Most importantly, I found my passion there. The BP oil spill happened around my 18th birthday and it was something that stuck with me as I started college. I wrote all of my essays about the animals that were impacted, the way that man drained natural resources. I wrote foreboding short stories about ghosts. I wrote article after article about the environment.

“Amanda,” said my English professor, handing me back a paper I’d written. “Have you ever considered going into environmental science?”

I shrugged.  “No. I was terrible at science in high school.”

“Maybe you should give it a try,” she suggested. “Seems like you’re interested. Maybe you’d be good at it if it were more hands-on.”

I listened. That school didn’t seem to have a generic environmental science program, so I transferred back home - to a local private school that matched my SUNY scholarship. That’s where I picked up my studies in animal behavior and ecology. That’s the school that took me to Yellowstone, the school where I found an opportunity to study abroad.

I learned, quietly, that I could study what I was interested in and travel without being wed to my hometown.

One caveat - I wish I would’ve stuck with public school all the way.

But that’s a story for another day.

[transientbiologists]

Yellowstone National Park, December 2011

[transientbiologists]

from fieldwork to illustration

it’s been snowing the past couple days in western new york. like, a lot. we could get two feet of snow - nearing that already - and a blizzard warning over the region. i had to carry my husky inside yesterday because he wanted to stay out all day. today we spent much less time outside, with windchills as low as -30F/-34C.

aside from venturing out in the snow to get some groceries, it’s been just a normal day for me. worked on some graphic design and writing stuff from home.

did i know that after my last field job, i’d dive into writing and illustration?

nope. even though i’m half decent at both of those things, i love working hands on with animals. i’ve found i prefer to be helping them rather than studying them objectively, which is why i’m starting veterinary technology classes in march. i do get an itch though, every time i see a job posting for researching bats or wolves or different critters in interesting places.

i went from a life that looked like this:

Counting ticks on a chipmunk, Summer 2018

to a life that looks like this:

Drinking coffee while working on Adobe Illustrator, 2019

it’s quite the change! and it’s not a permanent one - i anticipate to be doing fieldwork this spring and summer. just not the same as i have before.

my work isn’t totally unrelated. i get to research and work to help resolve human-wildlife conflict. so i keep up to date on current events surrounding different species and try to resolve issues before they even begin. a bit of ‘preventative medicine’ if you will.

plus, i’m pretty lucky to have a sustainable gig to cover me throughout the winter. when i worked in montana, i was frequently reminded by locals that they’d go on unemployment during the offseason. i have more freetime now, so i get to play guitar and work on my skating - hopefully i’ll do a couple hockey clinics before the season’s out.

spare time was unheard of in the intensity of my field season. my public blog focused on either the positives of my job or navigating the confusion about grad school and the future. i worried about the consequences of appearing ungrateful.

i genuinely did feel pretty neutral about my job most days. i like working outdoors. i like being outside. i like hiking around. i like driving from fieldsite to field site. i like setting camera traps and analyzing images. chipmunks and mice are not my favorite species to work with, but i’m interested in disease ecology research so it made sense to work with them. i have great physical energy, but do much better in cooler conditions than hot ones.

all that said, it was a tough five months. i fared poorly once the temperature rose about 90F/32C. with conditions around or over 100 degrees, i was prone to headaches and would often go through four 32oz nalgene bottles of water within a twelve hour day. on top of that, i infected my knee with contaminated forceps and had to go on antibiotics for nearly two weeks. i’ve never identified with the nerdy scientist persona - i’ve always been athletic and restless so i was {quietly} mortified by my apparent incompetence, that i would frequently injure myself. i thought i could do better. i was angry and competitive and wanted to prove myself. the harder i pushed myself, the worse i did. there was nothing to prove.

i was exhausted.

my worst mistake was going into a work the morning after a sort of weird thing happened. i woke up gasping for breath with sharp pain in my neck, i couldn’t see, my face felt tingly, and felt so dizzy i could hardly sit up. i should’ve gone to the emergency room. instead, i waited for the dizziness to subside. we’re still trying to figure out what all of that was. i need to see an opthalmologist and a few other doctors to try and crack the case. a couple think it may have been heatstroke. but now that i know stroke runs in my family, i’ll certainly never be so careless again.

on top of personal struggles, i also struggled counting ticks at first. i didn’t know how badly i needed reading glasses. and the numbers often ‘fell out of my head’ at first - i’d count more slowly than many of my peers, and would forget totals as soon as i calculated them - a consequence of some mild dyscalculia that i simply hadn’t guessed would impact my job. i had to hack my own brain to figure out a system that worked for me. and eventually it did - but my god, it was so frustrating.

i was working on my thesis during all of this. it was crazy. some days i look back and wonder how i was able to get it all done and defended by november.

the saving grace, of course, was the friends i made along the way. i had a closeness i had with my roommates. i hadn’t had that in years. we spent a lot of nights laughing over all sorts of things. i’d sip kahlua and wine and we’d spend hazy evenings trying to figure out our lives and talking about boys and wondering where we’d go next.

now i’m back in western new york and everything is different. i’m staying with my parents so i can save up. we endured a terrible emergency around christmas time, and i’m thankful everything turned out okay. i’m grateful, but we’re reaching a point of normalcy again - so i’m bored out of my mind most days. my grandma is visiting from poland too, which is nice, but that means our house is full - and i’m typing these stories from the dining room, where i have little space. i’m happy to trade space for my grandma’s company, but i can’t seem to catch a break when it comes to privacy. i know there’ll be time for privacy later. there’ll be time for everything later. but i feel stuck and constrained and i’m trying to focus less on that and more on the positives of being home - like guitar and coffee and hockey.

i would choose this - under the condition i get an apartment soon - over another field season at the same research center. it gives me more freedom to research what i want, to study what i want, and to develop the skillset that i want while earning some cash utilizing my other skills.

the best part? i get to be in the moment, and worry way less about the future now.

[transientbiologists]

Spirits follow everywhere I go, Oh they sing all day, And they haunt me in the night."

Love Like Ghosts, Lord Huron

[transientbiologists]

College Travels: Yellowstone

I visited Yellowstone National Park on a school field trip in December 2011, to try and follow wolves across the snowy landscape. I was 19 and eager to explore. At the time, I was studying animal behavior, ecology, and conservation science - truer to myself than I would be in the following years. I had been fascinated by wolves for some time. When I was a teenager, I had recurring dreams about wolves; one saved me from falling out of a high-rise window. Another led me out of a tangled thicket into a clearing. There were dozens. It was strange, because I’d always liked wolves, but lions had been my favorite animal growing up. So I was surprised by the sudden connection. But after those dreams, I felt a connection to wolves. I felt like they were important, and that maybe given all the controversy about them, I should study them and protect them. After all, those dreams left me feeling like they were protecting me somehow. The least I could do was reciprocate.

Gray wolf (Canis lupus), Yellowstone National Park, December 2011

My professor warned us that it was unlikely we’d see wolves in the park, but we found them multiple times. I was in heaven. I loved fieldwork, I loved talking with the biologists and seeing how they navigated the rugged, cold terrain. I liked using their spotting scopes and learning about the history of gray wolf reintroduction in Yellowstone National Park. We were told tales about the first wolves that were released into the park; their survivals, their shortfalls. We were introduced to some basic survey technologies. We set camera traps and hiked along rivers and even slid down hills on our bums. I felt like I was part of it all.

Most importantly, perhaps, we learned about Yellowstone ecology and the interconnectedness of all things. I was home.

While we were there, my professor had us explore our own boundaries. We went swimming in a hot spring one morning, which was quite the experience. We took a polar bear plunge into cool water before swimming into the warmer waters. I watched the sunrise over the park and was awestruck by the beauty of it all. I felt profoundly lucky.

I returned home to snowy Buffalo and immediately felt stuck. I was happy to be back with my then-boyfriend and my family for the holidays.

It wasn’t until that trip when I realized how connected I felt to the study of ecology. The following summer, I’d begin volunteering at a wildlife rehab center. The early tracks of my professional life were being laid.

I didn’t know where it would take me. I didn’t know that I’d still be in school seven years later. I didn’t know that I’d have at least six years to go.

In fact, I rejected the notion of working hard to get what I want that I ended up dropping my major. Yep. I was restless and bored. I wanted to spend more time with my friends, my dog, my then-boyfriend, my guitar. I wanted to go to concerts. I wanted to take road trips and take photographs. I hated Bio II and though I spent a couple hours a night studying, crumpled when it wasn’t enough.

I figured I’d be happy enough being a naturalist, and that I could still change minds while working next to wildlife rather than with them.

I didn’t know that at 25, I’d willingly spend sometimes over six or seven hours per day studying genetics and physiology. I didn’t know it’d fascinate me one day. I didn’t know how many times I’d get clawed and bitten. I didn’t know how many sleepless nights I’d stay up, wondering if there’s something more that could’ve been done to help an animal.

My path is not traditional, and never has been.

Cheers to change.

[transientbiologists]

Yellowstone National Park, December 2011

[transientbiologists]

early travels

Poland, 1993, age 1ish

My mother is from Poland. She immigrated to the U.S. in the 1980s. She met my dad in NYC, and the rest is history.

I grew up navigating two cultures: Polish, and the northern U.S.

My parents are very interesting, creative people. My mom is an artist and art teacher. My dad is your quintessential ‘computer guy’. My dad is organized and efficient; he was strict growing up. My mom indulged in my creative and mischievous side. She was pursuing her third degree when I was born - in her nonnative language. I attended her graduation when I was 3. She’s been back to school since and encourages my academic goals, my sense of adventure, and passions. I get my cynical, argumentative and confrontational side from my dad. But my dad has an artsy streak too - I learned most of what I know about music and photography from him. They took my to Poland as soon as it was safe to - a few months before the last of the Soviet troops left the country.

My grandma still lives in Poland. She’s currently visiting. It’s the first time I’ve seen her in four years. I haven’t been able to afford a Poland trip since 2013, and my soul is a little crushed that I see her so rarely. But hopefully things will turn around soon.

NYC, mid-2000s

I’m especially close with my two younger cousins. They lived with me for a time in high school, and have been my on-call brothers since they were born. And it’s not like ‘it’s nice you’re super close with your cousins’ it’s more like, these humans shared a room with me and forced me to eat socks to prevent them from sending a nasty text to one of my exes. so.

but I’m thankful to have them. we’ve also been through some really tough times together. we don’t have a big family - I only have one cousin on my dad’s side, and they don’t have any others in the u.s. - so we rely on each other a lot.

Their mom is my Ciocia, and we’re close too - and also a lot alike. Our entire family sort of parodies the ‘Griswolds’. I don’t think I’d have it any other way. 

They currently live just out of NYC - and visiting them frequently when they weren’t living with me helped ensure that NYC (and NJ) would always be a home away from home for me.

Poland, with my grandparents and mom

I’ve visited Poland six times. I was probably 20 the last time I was there, and I’m long overdue for another trip. But life’s not easy, and neither is money. I’m thankful I’ve gotten to go at all - and whenever we do visit, it’s for a couple of weeks at least, up to a month. I speak Polish, I’m working on my dual citizenship and sometimes wonder where it will take me. Admittedly, I’m sometimes envious of friends and acquaintances that get to visit their countries more frequently - but more than anything recognize how lucky I am to have even visited Poland at all. It’s a huge privilege. There’s so many people; many immigrants and refugees who will never get to return to their home countries or see their families again; many first generation kids who will never get to know their grandparents who still live abroad or step foot in their ‘other’ country - not their home country, or the country they were born or raised in, but certainly not far enough for it to be described as something like an ‘ancestral land’. There are second generation kids who will just miss it all entirely, and will only hear tales of their other country from their grandparents, if they’re lucky enough to have them.

I grew up well-aware of Polish history. My grandpa was a boy soldier - a messenger for the resistance - and ended up in a labor camp during World War II. He was liberated by American soldiers. My grandma was a little younger, but hid a Jewish family in her basement. My mom was mildly involved in Solidarnosc in the 80s. I’m always reminded that Poland was partitioned many times, to be thankful for what I have, to be open-minded and accepting of different cultures, and to ask questions to understand. I’ve been reminded that I’m Slavic, not anglosaxon, and to read up on that history, too - because much of it is mysterious and fascinating and rarely talked about in Western culture - in fact, I didn’t know what Slavic meant until I attended Polish Saturday School as a teacher. Living within American culture, my parents and teachers encouraged to attend protests, to stand up for what I believe in, and to be confident and brave; to speak Polish and learn it as well as I could. I was raised to be aware that moving to another country is not always a person’s first choice, and never an easy thing to do.

I feel somewhat disconnected from my generation. I find I connect with the notion of being a ‘90s baby’ and ‘2000s kid’ - watching the Rugrats and Rocket Power and Disney movies, having Neopets, and listening to CDs - but feel like I don’t connect with a bunch of other things. And even though I have a number of friendships that are incredibly strong, I don’t often fit in. I love my friends dearly, but we are different from each other in some ways. They have clear desires to settle in one place and pursue somewhat domestic goals. I seem to lack a sense of permanence in each place I live; even my hometown didn’t really feel like home for the longest time. I feel most at home when I’m traveling; sleeping next to strangers on trains, navigating streets with a map, chatting with people that are also on the road for whatever reason. I can’t imagine settling down right now, even though I’m already a ‘Ciocia’ to a friend’s kid.

But these aspects of my own life are important. A life hopping from field job to field job wouldn’t appeal to me if I wanted to get married in my 20s or have kids or be a homeowner before 30. I have a dog - that’s enough - and am still trying to figure out where to plant roots - if I want to plant them at all.

Despite living in a dorm in a different city and having a long-term boyfriend early in college, I didn’t meet other people who I truly connected with on this level until I began my life on the road at age 20: a study abroad session to Italy that I saved up for by waitressing.

Poland, 2013; age 20/21ish

[transientbiologists]

la vie boheme // introductions

hi, i’m amanda i’m 26. i am a licensed wildlife rehabilitator, i have a master’s in environmental science, i’m currently studying veterinary technology, and i’m working on my wildlife biology certificate. my master’s thesis examined the relationship between climate change, wildlife disease reporting rates, and media reporting.

outside of sciencey things, i have a husky named mowgli, i play guitar, and i play ice hockey, skate and fence. my favorite got character is arya stark, i’m a gryffindor, an aries, and either an istp or isfp. i think my enneagram type is either 684 or 682. maybe a wampus or thunderbird in ilvermorny.

i haven’t lived in one place for longer than six months since 2014. i’m starting this sideblog to help organize my thoughts about a book i want to write

but i realize now before i interview my friends - who are as well-traveled and experienced as myself - i need to write out my own story and figure out just what i want to say.

so, why ‘la vie boheme’? the term typically applies to the arts community - which i’m also part of and adore. i play guitar, photograph, draw, and paint. i was a stage manager on and off for four years at a local coffee shop. i studied technical theatre and a bit of acting before switching to the sciences and following my heart to pursue wildlife conservation. i think my favorite experience was leading a local youth theatre workshop a few years back where i got to play puck and teach kids about shakespearean subtext.

and la vie boheme certainly applies to artists!! i don’t contest that. but i see myself there too. while i was watching RENT this summer in what was essentially a boarding house at a temporary job, i realized something. biologists fit there too.

job security simply isn’t a thing when you’re starting out - especially if you’re pursuing wildlife science. i’ve had over 21 jobs including internships (at age 26!! eek). i had a paid gig with captive wolves and bears in montana; i interned with the jane goodall institute, with a wildlife rehab center in maine, with a local wildlife rehab center. i’ve worked officially as a wildlife assistant at the same local wildlife center where i discovered my love for veterinary medicine. and while part of me has loved hopping from place to place, i’m gradually realizing how exhausting it is to start over all the damn time. so i’m starting down the veterinary path now - pursuing veterinary technology first so i can have steady work while i finish veterinary pre-reqs. i’m going to be in school in my 30s. i’m terrified, but it seems like my best route to finally break free of this cycle.

and the funny thing is - those odds aren’t good either!! in fact, they’re terrible! it’s wickedly competitive to get into wildlife medicine. luckily, i’ve already got a foot in the door - which frees me up to focus on either radiology or pathology so i might be able to pay off these damn loans someday

in the meanwhile - believe it or not - i’m supporting myself with writing and graphic design  for a wildlife site ¯\_(ツ)_/¯  additionally i’m affiliated with a local wildlife veterinarian and wildlife rehab startup but we’ll see where that goes. we’re trying to research and i’m supposed to write a blog there too.

beyond that, i’m trying to stay put a bit. i’ve exhausted many of my local field options, though i’m hoping to get in as a volunteer with a local wildlife preserve but my odds getting a job there are very low. my tech classes are once a week an hour away - so i’ve got to stay semi-local for the next two years. 

it’s an opportunity to reflect on where i’ve been and where i want to go. and hopefully to save up a little bit to travel for fun.

i hope you enjoy following my journey for now - and i hope that you enjoy the stories of my colleagues as i begin to interview and post them.

one day, fingers crossed, this will be a book.