Always going forwards, cos we can't find reverse

I seem to be having trouble finding the difference between first gear and reverse lately.

Other people have trouble telling between their left and their right, its just typical that I'd have to get mixed up with forwards and backwards..

Its quite a worrying disability. Especially when I park in front or behind any other form of solid object. Which is quite often. So I would avoid parking anywhere near a navy, 51' reg, VW Polo if your ever in Scotland.

Me, myself, and Id.

I was in town today with a friend. It was a gorgeously hot, sunny day and we were out exploring the old town. Despite finding the perfect place to sunbathe, on a small hill over looking the Trossachs National Park and Stirling Castle, I was restless and couldn't settle. Why? Because all I could think about was the fact that I desperately needed a wee.

I resented that because I was around "civilisation", it inadvertantly meant that I could not just whip down my trousers and go there and then (as I would happily be able to do if I were out doing fieldwork in my remote study forests). No. Instead, we are constrained to having to go and find a toilet - which can take a lifetime (as it felt it did today). During which time I couldn't even converse, let alone think of anything more mentally challenging than looking for a "WC-->" sign. After eventually relieving myself, I was able to think about other things; notably, what am I going to have for lunch? Where will I find it? And how long will it be before I get to eat it? As you can tell, I really am one of life's great thinkers, with such profound depth...

But amongst these somewhat simplistic of thoughts, I had the realisation that so much of my days are filled with pandering around to my Id. Now, for those of you that don't know, according to Freud, the Id represents our primary process thinking — our most primitive need, gratification type thoughts. It is organized around basic instinctual urges of sexuality, aggression, and the desire for instant gratification or release. Basically the Id wants whatever feels good at the time, with no consideration for the reality of the situation, or about the needs of anyone else, only its own satisfaction.

I am completely aware of how such basic urges dictate my days to me, so I generally am prepared to satisfy the Id whenever it rears its attention grabbing head (i.e. I am never far from a packed lunch box). But being caught short without a loo is one of the annoyances of modern living. And possibly why I don't really like living in urban environments. I wonder how many people living and working in cities at any one time are unable to function correctly because of the simple need to pee... although I doubt that the Office of National Statistics has much info on that one.

Of course, according to Maslow, its not just these basic urges we have to satisfy in our day to day lives, but a pyramidal hierarchy of needs. Only when the lower levels of this pyramid are fulfilled, and maintained with regularity, will we ever reach a state of "self-actualistaion". This is described as the instinctual need of a human to make the most of their unique abilities; "A musician must make music, the artist must paint, a poet must write, if he is to be ultimately at peace with himself. What a man can be, he must be." ...Erm, hang on...hold that thought...but...

*runs off in search of loo*

Hedgehogs!! Of course!

I have been out doing lots of fieldwork out and about in the hills and woods these past few weeks (hence the lack of blogging). Its been going well - I seem to have a thriving marten population busily making scats for me to find, sniff and collect (and subsequently store in my freezer *ahem*).



Me - enjoying my scatology.

Anyway... hedgehogs.

So I have been recurringly stumped by a particular type of poo on my site visits. I couldn't tell what it was from, no matter how many times I smelt it. Its one that I keep coming across again and again. Its been really bugging me not knowing what it is, especially because I still insist on picking up and sniffing each time I find one (as if I will suddenly be able to place it). Worst of all its a particularly noxious smelling little bugger. Worse still actually, is the fact that I have a habit of miscalculating the distance to my nose and usually end up with the foul smelling stuff smeared across my face for the rest of the day. (Note: this isn't a fetish of mine by the way, but rather one of my duties as an investigative field zoologist *ahem*).



Warning: Do not accept chocolate drops from this person.

After subjecting my poor old nose countless times now, I finally clicked (ok, maybe I didn't really "click", but rather was told by Rob) ...its only a bloody hedgehog's. Of course. Why didn't I think of that. Damn Hedgehogs! *shakes fist and grrs alot at hedgehogs everywhere*


big stinky hedgey poo

Anyway, on my latest trip out to the woods, I had the pleasure of my dad's company for the day. There was a fair exchange of natural history know-how; my poos for his plants and lichens (..and sandwiches!). It was a great day out for us both. I realised that its when I show people around my study site that I remember how lucky I am that I get to go to work in a place like this. It really is a fantastic area - The woods look out to Schiehallion, a spectacular looking mountain whos name is translated as The Fairy Hill of the Caledonians. Schiehallion's claim to fame is that it was the location of the first ever measurement of the mass of the earth by the then Astronomer-Royal, Nevil Maskelyne, in 1744 (based on the deflection of a pendulum caused by the mass of Schiehallion itself).

The there's the village of Fortingall, nestled in the mouth of Glen Lion (Scotland's longest glen). Fortingall is the location of Europe's oldest living organism; a yew tree that is believed to be between 3000 and 9000 years old. This yew therefore pre-dates Chrisianity, despite the fact that it appears to be growing in the grounds of a church!

And, not only that, legend has it that Fortingall, this sleepy little Perthshire village, was the birth place of Pontias Pilot! His father may have been an ambassador in North Britain during the occupation. His mother may have been either a Menzies or a MacLaren from Balquhidder. (Now, why on earth would someone have made this up if it weren't "true"??)

Who'd have thought it, that the calculation of the Earth's mass, Europe's oldest living organism, and the Roman authority made famous for his hand washing, could be linked together with hedgehog poo in the same blog post. Genius.

I killed a bird today :'(

We were walking along the street to uni to play badminton, when a car struck a bird infront of us. Now, the speed limit on that particular part of the road is 40mph, and this was a Range Rover who looked to be going even faster still, so I don't think it unreasonable that we would presume the bird would be dead upon inspection. We could not walk on not knowing whether it had made it or not. It seemed only logical that the bird would be dead on impact - the car was so big and so fast. We crossed the street to find the thrush (as it turned out to be) in a heap, and, of course, still moving.

At this point dilema set in. The thrush was severely damaged, it had, afterall just been struck by a large, fast moving vehicle. It no longer had use of its back limbs, and although it attempted to get away when I scooped it up in my hands, its wings were not functioning either. It pitifully tried to defend itself with every last ounce of its might. We didn't have a clue what to do. All we knew for certain was that no matter what we did, this bird would not be able to survive on its own. But what do we do with it? I tried putting it into the hedgerow, naiving hoping that it would right itself and get better. We walked about a meter before returning, knowing that this bird was screwed. I *knew* that the thrush would never get better. It was far too far gone. But what to do with it? Leave it, and hope it recovers? An unrealistic, but at least easier option. Take it to a vet? Surely prolonging the agony, given the extent of its injuriess. Provide a "mercy" killing and end its suffering?

I wished I could have left it in a hedge for it to get well again, so I could stop thinking about it. But I knew better than that, I knew this bird had to die to end its suffering. It was a horrible realisation knowing that I was going to have to be the one to wring its neck. This, as a zoologist and conservationist who would rather live in fear of spiders in her home than kill them.

I can only hope that I helped to end its suffering quickly. It was the hardest thing I think I have ever had to do, and although I know it would have been cruel to leave it in agony, I am still left with feelings of guilt that I killed another living creature, and that maybe she would have been alright should I left her (although I know she wouldn't).