Nut Seeking Job

When people in this town see my résumé, they must be thinking:

“What an absolute nut job!

What kind of person spends a decade traipsing about after birds, sleeping on the ground, camping out in desert washes and rainforest clearcuts? Surveying for extinct species on active volcanoes? Moving from job to job every few months - 12 states in 9 years? Federally certified to use rifles and chainsaws?

I can't let this person work in my office. She probably smells."

In the past, I could proudly present my scientific achievements, like authorship on a cutting-edge paper entitled: Monophyly of terrestrial adephagan beetles as indicated by three nuclear genes (Coleoptera: Carabidae and Trachypachidae). And that's not all - I have a whole list of fascinating published works and professional presentations that my colleagues would drool over. Okay, so I didn't exactly receive a standing ovation when I presented "Quantifying broadleaf management targets for songbird conservation in timber plantations" last year, but I do recall a solid round of applause.

And then there's my graduate degree. I mean, who wouldn't be thrilled to hire a "MASTER OF SCIENCE" !

But I can't help but feel something has been lost in translation. I'm used to wooing employers who need me; employers who find my unique fusion of skills highly alluring and impressive.

Around here, this kind of résumé apparently gets special treatment: fast-tracking to the "round file."

And honestly, I get it. For my entire working life, I've been focused on one ambition. I've become a specialist. If you're looking for a bird bander, here I am! Need scat and feather samples from the owl nest in that burrow? No problem! Wondering about the abundance and species composition of waterfowl in that wetland unit? Stand aside, I've got my scope right here!

I've got a serious case of "the specialist's dilemma":

"Animal species reside on a scale with “generalist” on one end and “specialist” on the other. Specialists thrive when conditions are just right. They fulfill a niche and are very effective at competing with other organisms. They have good mechanisms for coping with “known” risks. But when the specific conditions change, they are much more likely to go extinct. "  http://www.futureblind.com/2011/07/generalists-vs-specialists-and-the-specialists-dilemma/

I faintly hear the death knell of my specialization. Or is that a ferry arriving in port? But never mind that. I CAN do other things! I'm intelligent, capable, and not afraid to get my hands dirty! I’m ready for a new challenge... really, I am. I'm not into making a name for myself, I just want to earn a decent wage contributing to the community in a meaningful and fulfilling way. Let's see what's in the Jobs section of the weekly town paper, the Petersburg Pilot... I'll find the perfect job and these employers are going to LOVE ME! I know it!

Four jobs advertised this week:

Hmmm... I already submitted applications for some of these last week, and never heard back...

Well, I hear they'll hire just about anyone at the fish cannery. That should take care of my smell issue.

Finding "happily ever employed"

Sure, I've been unemployed before. Actually, I've been "between jobs" dozens of times. It comes with the territory when you make a living as a bird biologist. No big deal- it's a big world with limitless possibilities- there's always something great out there on the horizon. You just have to migrate. If it's summer, send your résumé north. If it's winter, head south. The birds have it all figured out. And so did I.

But this time unemployment seems different. This time I have... a husband, a dog, a boat, a mortgage. All together on an Alaskan island in a Norwegian fishing village.

Wait, what?! How did this happen?! Is that an iceberg floating by?!?

Well, this certainly is new territory. Territory that has, I-kid-you-not, honest to God, glaciers. And now even the forests are bereft of birdsong; southbound migration is underway. Winter is practically lurking on the horizon. I can't help but ask myself, "What do I do now?"

Usually, right now I'd be packing all my worldly belongings into my car, topping off the engine oil (don't worry, Dad, I won't forget), and watching it all grow small in my rear view mirror as I follow the birds to my next wage-earning adventure in a reasonable and comfortably warm climate.

But now... I couldn't drive off this island if I wanted to. Dan and I had talked about marriage for years;  it only took moving to Alaska with him to finally get that ring. I adore my husband, that sweet-talker that he is. And so, here I am to stay - for better or for worse - in Petersburg, Alaska; population 3,000 fishermen. This snapshot from our wedding, two months ago at the local fishing lodge, really says it all.

As a forester (and of course, part-time fisherman), Dan works out of a field camp located on a different (and even-more-remote) island. He and his field crew fly in by float-plane and stay a string of eight days straight. Dan works long, hard days in the old-growth woods, wearing striped suspenders and big lugged boots, and loves every minute of it. So now we are happily married, and Dan is happily employed.

As for me- I'm still working on my "happily ever employed" fairytale. And apparently, some get a thrill out of hearing my 'desperate housewives of Alaska' stories (thanks, Mom), so this is for you. Besides, what else have I got to do now, anyway?