Bioblitz 2015
It seems one of the reasons NYC never sleeps may be “Macaulay seminars”. On the Sunday of Bioblitz, I entered the kitchen at 4 AM to find my mother and my sister had both set their alarms. They were now arguing over who would get to drive me to the ferry. My mother won, and we drove to the ferry listening to Israeli rock.
As the ferry moved smoothly over PCBs, I watched the sky lighten over the city. The cohesion of buildings grew smaller and smaller. I started to have doubts. What will nature be like? What if I don’t like it?
My group was assigned ‘mammals’, and we set out with visions of lions and tigers and bears. Our guide, I think his name was Will, walked about 15 feet ahead of us. We seemed to be disturbing. His commune with nature is likely more effective when not trailed by a group of sleepy city kids.
Eventually, Will produced some tracks, on pieces of tape stuck to gutter-like track catchers. The animal is attracted to the peanut butter, it walks over ink and onto the tape, thereby leaving tracks. Our job was to flip through our mini “track guides” and identify which type of animal it was. We checked “Big Cats” but it was not a lion, nor was it a tiger. So we looked at “Bear Tracks” but still found no matches. We were nonplussed.
Will informed us that we had likely caught some raccoon tracks.
Now, I have a passing acquaintance with raccoons. One of them ate my cat’s leg a few years ago. It was a freakishly warm winter evening and the raccoon woke up from hibernation hungry. It smelled my cat Smokey sleeping in the house little house I made him. Smokey’s house had climate walls but no emergency exit. Unfortunately by the time I heard Smokey crying, the raccoon had destroyed one of his legs and was starting on the other. A family friend amputated the destroyed leg.
Later we checked the film from little cameras that Will had hid to see if we could verify that the tracks were from raccoons. The camera takes a picture when it senses movement. All the pictures were of Will setting up the camera.
