Record Breaking...

Another early start today. I headed down to Romney Marsh for the annual 10k race (organised by my parents' company, Nice Work). Before leaving the house, I took the pooches for a tootle through the coppiced woodland near my Parents' house. I love early morning walks, today was approximately 6.30am, however I cannot stand the whole cobweb-in-face sensation. Bleurgh.

Today was a complete joke. I wouldn't be exaggerating if I said with every footstep I got a mouthful of bumsilk. I was then plagued with the paranoia of having tiny little spiders crawling all over me. When I was younger I uses to swing a lead in front of me to break the webs before walking through them. Now, with two dogs on lead (both with very little lead discipline), I can't do this, so I stumbled along, half blind as cobwebs-in-contact-lenses is worse than the standard cobweb-in-face so I spent much of the walk with my eyes closed. I'm not a massive spider lover, I find them interesting creatures but I have to admit they kind of give me the heebie-jeebies.

I've only really had to work with spiders twice in my life, and both were very fascinating. The first was during a work trial I had at Longleat Safari Park in the summer I first graduated (I sadly had to turn down the job offer due to other commitments). I breezed through the interview and group stages of the application process and then got invited back to the centre for a trial with their education and presentation team. I did a bit of research before hand and found the main areas they carry out talks and workshops was in the reptile and creep crawlies house. I'm generally fine with most, but spiders and ants were going to cause me problems. I'm always up for overcoming my fear, and being still at Uni I sought the help from one of my lecturers, Sara. She worked in the same lab where I was carrying out my dissertation research and we became quite well acquainted; anyway, she had a pet spider. A Chilean Rose tarantula to be precise, and her name was Lola. I came in to the lab a few days before my trial day and asked if I could perhaps handle her a little, just in case I get to Longleat and have to hold some big arse spider down there. I don't suppose saying 'no' would bode well, equally saying 'yes' and then freaking out. Sara actually turned me down and said I couldn't due to Lola being a bit grumpy and the urticating hairs on her body, they'd give me a nasty rash. She did allow me to feed her and we had a chat about handling techniques etc. so it wasn't all in vain. Needless to say, I get to Longleat and my first task is to handle a bloody Chilean Rose... I could just hear Sara's warnings running through my head, despite the Longleat staff member reassuring me that this particular spider was very docile and used to being handled. I did well. I didn't freak out and managed to remain composed - and I got the job!

A Crab Spider's 'tent'

 The other time I've worked with our 8-legged friends was on an ecological and behavioural field course out in Portugal. I carried out an investigation on a species of crab spider, Synema globosum, and its predator behaviour. These spiders are so incredibly fascinating. They use their silk to pull petals over their heads, building small tents in which they hide and await their prey. When flying pollinators (honeybees mainly) come along to feed on the flower's nectar, the spiders strike and perform an attack 'dance'. There are 7 stages that can be identified, starting with 'arm waving' and ending in a full 'bite'. As the spiders bite they attach a piece of silk to their prey, so as it flies away and dies mid-air, it falls to hang from the flower. The spider then just reels it in and feeds. The study I was involved in looked at whether prey type and gender of spider had any affect on the attack rate of the spiders. These particular little spiders were weirdly cute and had some bizarre behaviours that were fascinating to observe; plus after spending 2 weeks traipsing through 8 hectares of scrubland searching for 'tents', I grew to love them. I also took the opportunity to take some pretty cool piccies...

Bumblebee checking out a Lavender inflorescence

A Crab Spider on a Chrysanthemum coronarium

Back to my 10k this morning... I got a PB!! Bloody chuffed considering I've been injured pretty much solidly since December. I also got cake. Woohoo.

Song of the Day:
Cocoon - Catfish & The Bottlemen
- a fairly new band on the indie scene, but they've certainly taken it by storm. I saw them with my brother at the XFM Winterland Festival last December, and once you get over how much hair is on stage (seriously, so much hair...), they are just an incredibly raw and refreshing sound. This song off their debut album is punchy and punky and with a quick tempo which is great to run to. The song is pretty short, and probably a bit wordy for most, but it's really catchy and I can't help but tap along. The whole album is a great running soundtrack and I'm sure it had somethign to do with my speedy race this morning. Thanks lads!

Smashing seagulls...

This weekend I'm escaping the concrete jungle and am back in Sussex for my dad's 60th birthday. As per usual, Saturday morning meant a family outing to the local running club for a tempo session...

So there I was, at 9am this morning, at Rye Harbour Nature Reserve panting away. I had a great run, despite being currently plague by some kind of chest bug. 

I was joined on the reserve by a huge range of wildlife, it's an amazing place for bird and bug watching and I really enjoy going down there. At around mile 3 I ran across a patch of concrete littered with crushed shells. Herring gulls (amongst a few other species, mainly gulls) use the concrete track to smash open mollusc shells to expose the flesh inside. I've seen them do this before and have read a few studies on it previously, it's similar to the extractive foraging techniques used by primates. 

Whilst running, I was watching the gulls and could see some birds dropping shells from greater heights than others. It is thought this is due to a learned behaviour the gulls develop; they come to know that heavier shells need a bit more force and some species of mollusc are harder to break open, so they fly higher before dropping them.  I noticed this morning that some birds had a higher success rate than others. I was dwelling on this whilst puffing along during the session, and thought it may be correlated with the age of the bird. Older birds have longer to work out which methods are more beneficial, whereas the juvenile birds still haven't got the knack of it. I got home and had a little snoop around online. I was right, being a learned behaviour, it takes the birds a few go's before they figure out how to get the best reward whilst expending the least amount of energy; a theory dubbed 'juvenile naivety'. Not only this, but birds learn whether it's more beneficial to drop a shell from a greater height once or multiple drops from closer to the ground. This is due to 'piracy'; when dropping shells from higher up, it takes the gulls longer to retrieve their breakfast, increasing the chances of it being pinched!

I can tell you, no one was pinching my breakfast this morning! I'm well and truly pooped!

Iden Moat

Forstals Farm

I did still have time for a lovely, sunny walk with the pooches across the farms and fields. It's definitely nice to be out in the country air for a while...

   

 I should probably take this opportunity to introduce my clan of animals. We have Brian the cat, she (yes, she) is grumpy 90% of the time and is the boss of the household. Then we have Fred, or Fredstick, a rescue bull breed lurcher. She's an anxious soul who suffers with severe separation anxiety, but she's full of love and character. And the newest addition, Mickey, or Mickey Meatball, was recently rescued by us from my rehoming centre. He's the happiest dog alive and is doing a grand job of keeping Fred company and chilling her out. They're a mismatched bunch, but they're my mismatched bunch and I love them. Only when they're not taking up the whole bed though...

If you were a crisp...

So, as I've mentioned previously, I love my job, but we all know the brutality of wages within the animal welfare sector. Chuck working for a charity in the mix and you may as well wave goodbye to your salary.

I've had an expensive few months for many a reason, and my lovely bank told me a few weeks back that I really needed to start thinking about paying off my student overdraft. It's been about 4 years since I've been in the green, so they're probably right. So, in an attempt to settle my finances, I recently got a part-time job in a bar in Clapham Common.

Clapham is an interesting area of London; it definitely habituates people from all walks of life. On my walk to work last week I saw a woman throwing what I can only presume was her (ex) partner's belongings out of a 4th floor flat window, on to the concrete below (his TV made the loudest crash...). On the same walk I overheard a conversation from a 'suit' which went something like ''I want a middle of the road kinda girl. Not stunningly pretty, too much work! And nothing (yes he referred to his future girl as a 'thing') too ugly, because, well, then she'd be ugly.'' He was actually so engrossed in his conversation that he tripped down the curb when crossing the road, and unsuccessfully tried to right himself. It gave me a giggle if nothing else. Embarrassingly I then served him at the bar and overheard him having a similar conversation with another buddy; it's here I learnt his search seemed almost entirely restricted to Tinder. Classy. The common is nice however, good for dog walks and a cheeky beer on a sunny afternoon.

I find the job surprisingly refreshing; plus the other night I earned more in tips than wages... definitely not complaining. I don't need to use my brain a lot and the conversation isn't always centred around dogs. For example, on Thursday night this week, a colleague who has recently started as well asked me 'If I was a crisp, what would I be?' 

Tough question. 

I thought about it for a little while and then decided on Doritos Cool Original. Why? Because I'm not really that interesting, but go well with a lot of things. 

Her response was Monster Munch Pickled Onion. Why? Because one is alright but then they just get annoying...

It was a pretty honest, yet apt answer. Lovely girl, but from Hastings (as in 1066, Battle of, etc.). Coincidentally, I grew up not far from there and as a 14 year old it had the best street corners around. Now that I'm attempting to 'adult', I struggle to see much past the high teenage pregnancy rate and the 10am queues outside Wetherspoons. They leave that bit out of the guide books...

The same girl asked the question 'If you were a muffin, what would you be?'. Her response was 'Lemon and poppy seed, because I have freckles'. Just about sums it up...

Sticky situations and smelly feet.

Today has consisted of stolen sandwiches, bumblebee watching and bad news...

I've had a tough'n. I received a bit of sad news and I also got myself in a pickle with an older boy I was assessing, I'm normally pretty good at anticipating certain behaviours, but obviously wasn't on top form today. Let's just say I'm grateful that most of his teeth are rotten...

So after an eventful and pretty pants day, I took Oakley for a long walk through the scrubland that is more formally known as Barnes Common. Certainly not the prettiest green space in London for many, but it is fairly unkempt so is a huge area of long grass meadows and wild flowers. I love it and it is teeming with real British wildlife. 

Barnes Common

I stumbled across lots of breeding grasshoppers that flitted around with every footstep, too many butterflies to count and so many different species. And of course, bumblebees, filling their pollen pockets with the good stuff. Since I started reading 'a Sting in the Tale', I've seen bumbles and other bee species everywhere and I can't not stop to observe them. I read today that they leave an oily substance from their feet on the petals when they land to drink the nectar; kind of like a smelly footprint. Other bees can detect this, and won't land on recently visited flowers. This way they don't waste time or energy investigating plants with little profit. Not only this, but bees can learn, through experience (they think), how long different species of flower take to replenish their nectar, so they can determine when to return when the flower. For instance some flowers are quick and will replenish within minutes, others can take up to an hour, and bees use this oily substance to know how long ago the plant was last fed from and when best to visit again. Cool huh?

I sat down by a big patch of Buddleja and watched the bumblebees and it is so fascinating; this behaviour is so easy to identify. I could clearly see them stopping and hovering for a few seconds whilst they determined which flowers were worth the effort. You only need to sit down for ten minutes and watch before you see the same patterns of behaviour being used by individual bees. The honeybees behaved in much the same way too.

It certainly cheered me up after a naff day at work anyway. Plus on my evening dog walk I saw a headghog! Bonus!

Spike

Song of the Day:
Get Better - Frank Turner
Frank Turner is one of my favourite artists and someone I've got into only fairly recently. As predominantly a solo artist, he ticks all the boxes. Great voice, simple but catchy lyrics and the right balance between preachy and trying to convey a heartfelt message. Many of his songs seem autobiographical and it's no secret that Frank has battled with depression and anxiety for much of his earlier career. This just accounts for his energy and honesty in his songs. Get Better is a quick lyric-ed ballad with a catchy riff and chorus. It does what it says on the tin, 'Draw a line underneath all of this unhappiness. We can get better.' And you're right Frank, I've had a bad day but tomorrow will be fab!

P.s. Oakley still has no sign of a perforated stomach, so I think we've avoided drama there. He did however steal a man's sandwich from his bag on the train today. I didn't notice until it was too late and the poor commuter got off the train before I could say anything. He must have been so disappointed come lunch time... whoops.

Neurotic spaniels, trying to adult and bumblebees

I've spent the last few weeks doing some research into how I can be a better zoologist. 

So, today has all been about really honing in and making a plan for how I want to move forward. My ecology lecturer always used to say you'd never get anywhere in conservation or zoology without a bit of clarity. And he's right! There's so many different areas to specialise in that no mortal being could know enough about everything to succeed.

So after a lovely walk with Oakley, the neurotic spaniel I'm currently looking after (see end of blog) and spending my morning doing adulty chores (laundry, hoovering, a visit to the bank (bleurgh) and opticians), I headed to my local bookstore to find some relevant words. I'm a big bibliophile,  but admittedly have been reading rubbish lately. My last novel, and I use the term loosely, was the epitome of beach trash and even I struggled to finish it. I won't name and shame the author, but I felt the need to read a book penned by someone with an IQ higher than the aforementioned Oakley. So I picked up:

A Sting in the Tale Dave Goulson
Dave Goulson is a name I'd heard of (good start), he studied biology at Oxford, is best known for his published work on bees and butterflies and founded the Bumblebee Conservation Trust in 2006. I remember reading some of his papers during some research I was doing on bees (admittedly of the honey variety) out in Portugal during my second year at uni. The book is an autobiographical account of Goulson's love for British wildlife, in particular bees, the dramatic effect farming has had on bee populations in Britain and his drive to reintroduce the extinct and boost the populations of those struggling. Being a topic I have some experience of and a definite interest in, I thought it was a good place to start and it will be my first read.

Ten Million Aliens Simon Barnes
This book simply caught my eye with the tag line 'Life on planet Earth is not weirder than we imagine. It's weirder than we are capable of imagining...'. Picking it up I realised I also knew of the author (apparently I remember more names today than I did during the lead up to my finals). Barnes is a journalist and novelist. Originally a sports writer, he moved in to natural history column writing and has since written 12 (and a half) novels over a range of subjects. He is coincidentally a patron for The Bumblebee Conservation Trust, giving our newly introduced buddy, Goulson a hand protecting and promoting the buzzies. This books is essentially a whirlwind account of the Animal Kingdom. It has a review from Stephen Fry on the front and a picture of a leaf cutter ant (the only ant species I'm not petrified of, purely because of their incredible behaviour) so I thought I'd give it a shot.

The Origin of Species Charles Darwin
Before anyone complains about me being a rubbish zoologist, yes I have read this before. But I only have a version on Kindle and I wanted a paper copy to annotate and refer to. Plus it was in the reduced section, shocking I know.

So with some not so light bed time reading and new contact lenses, I'm feeling pretty positive about what the future holds. Tomorrow I'm heading out to the London Wetlands Centre to ask about picking up some volunteering slots and advice on building up some more solid bird ID skills and following up a volunteering position at the Natural History Museum that I had to turn down at the beginning of the year due to other (annoyingly irrelevant) commitments.

Be safe kids!
Alice.

Song of the Day
Gunga Din - The Libertines
- first track from them in years and very much an 'early days' feel about it. They've tapped in to their raw and raspy sound again and with some catchy scratchy guitar and a repetitive chorus, I can only imagine the atmosphere this would stir up live. With Carl and Pete alternating vocals during the verses and then singing together on the chorus, it seems like they've put their differences right behind them and hopefully the future looks bright for the band. The album comes out soon, I'm eagerly awaiting it!

Oakley
I may as well introduce this fella now too, I look after him every now and then and he's a pretty good example of how natural selection sometimes gets it wrong. That's kinda harsh, he's a lovely dog, knows some awesome tricks and isn't badly behaved (for a spaniel) but he's neurotic and has a whole library of what I call 'Oakleyisms'. He likes to bark. A lot. He also enjoys eating and would eat a crisp out your mouth if given the chance. His favourite past times include barking at aeroplanes, motorbikes and push bikes, chasing deer and cats and investigating every single object on the floor to determine whether it is edible. He has a body clock more accurate than Big Ben and will tell me at 9pm (with a bark) that it is time for a dentastick and bed. He also has a fondness for underwear and managed to consume a pair of my knickers during our first night together; something I don't normally allow until after at least date 3...  (cheap joke, sorry). The day before his mum went on holiday, she called me to say he'd eaten a wooden kebab skewer and so I'm now on the look out for symptoms of a perforated intestine... luckily for me he has an iron stomach and so far no evidence of perforation has been seen. I draw the line at dissecting his poop so I'm just hoping that the skewer has either passed through without much drama or been somehow absorbed into his garbage can stomach. He's cute though and likes to snuggle, so is easily forgiven.

Operation: Get my life in order.

So, this being my first post, I should probably introduce myself...

I'm Alice, I graduated from the University of Nottingham with a degree in zoology getting on for 2 years ago now. I spent the years prior to and during university building up a huge portfolio of work experience (everything from farms to a film production company to a tiger breeding centre), yet upon graduating, I was still pretty unsure of what I wanted to do.

My degree in Nottingham opened my eyes to conservation and evolutionary biology; I became completely fascinated by the way species had evolved and survived, the dynamics of ecosystems and, in particular, the how's and why's of sexual selection. My dissertation research project, which admittedly wasn't my first choice of topic, explored the evolutionary relationship of a species of snail.  I developed lab skills that I thought were far above my academic capabilities, yet I successfully extracted and sequenced snail DNA and then built a molecular phylogeny of an almost entire genera. My results were pretty unexpected and suggested a reshuffle of the evolutionary tree. I was astounded at how much I learned in a short time, how much I came to love laboratory research, and again fascinated by the evolutionary biology of these tiny snails from a far away country.

Needless to say, my degree instilled in me a desire to carry out some kind of research in some incredible place; somewhere I could see things most have only seen in books, take some amazing photos (another hobby of mine) and contribute to the scientific community in some way or another.

All pretty vague...

As I graduated, I briefly dabbled in veterinary nursing and then found my way down to London to embark on a career in canine behaviour at a leading rescue centre. The charity sector is incredibly rewarding,  emotionally exhausting and financially brutal. But I love it.

And so it's here, in London at the same rescue centre, that I find myself, living in a shoddy flatshare that steals a majority of my shoddy wages. I live with Jack, a guy with more money than sense, and a higher sex drive than money; Omar who thinks an argument should be as regimental as your morning cuppa and likes to wallow in the house at 35°C; and Maria, who I don't see often due to being deterred by the guys, but who is lovely.

Oh. And the rats. But I'll save that for another day...

In the two years I've lived and worked in London, I've changed a lot and made a reasonably successful attempt at growing up. I got promoted pretty quickly, boosting my confidence massively (bye bye shy/awkward/doorstep Alice) and making me realise this is something I'm bloody good at! I now spend my days training, rehabilitating and rehoming up to 22 dogs at a time. We can't save them all, but we transform the lives of the majority and try to have fun whilst were at it.

But...

... around 2 months ago a close friend of mine was diagnosed with breast cancer (prognosis is fab, yay!) and a friend from university had a bad accident resulting in a double leg amputation. It's a cliché and I'm embarrassed to say it, but it made me realise these things can and do happen to anyone. Seize the day, YOLO etc.

As such, I've decided to revive some old interests, embellish my CV and really take advantage of my degree and experience. I may be under qualified, but I'm certainly not under enthused.

So this is me. Me surviving in London. Me and my emotional roller coaster of a job. Me doing it, whatever 'it' may be.