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...

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.