One big thing about living on the road is that we never really know how things will be when we arrive at a new place. (Like most of life, really.) And that the fewer expectations we have, the easier the adjustment is. And that, like most things in life, everything changes.
After months of emails back and forth, confirming our arrival July 1, we were asked to come on July 2nd instead, because there would be no staff on site on Sunday to welcome us. So we stayed an extra night in the Poconos and arrived at the Edwin B. Forsythe National Wildlife Refuge on Monday afternoon around two, tired and ready to settle in to our camp site overlooking Lily Lake.
Our volunteer coordinator greeted us and explained that the previous volunteer was still in the campsite, and he was dragging his feet about leaving. We pulled into a shaded parking space, grateful for a half tank of gas so that we could run the generator to use the air conditioning. And we waited.
Like most of the country, New Jersey was experiencing a severe heat wave with very high humidity, so the 95° outside felt like 105° and we were miserable. And because of the extreme heat, the green headed flies that normally stay on the salt marsh side of the refuge, were attacking us.
Green headed flies don’t sting like a mosquito. They bite you with their jagged mouths, breaking your skin. They have an anti-coagulant in their saliva, so the blood drips down for them to eat. The only good thing is that they move pretty slow, so you can swat them, sometimes even before they’ve bitten you. But there are so many of them that a few will get you, for sure. And they are not deterred by the usual bug sprays and remedies.
So instead of walking around, exploring our new neighborhood, we stayed inside the RV, amusing ourselves with our phones on the free and fast wifi. For four hours. We finally pulled into our spot after six, got leveled and started setting up.
Our campsite is in a residential neighborhood, the last property before the actual refuge visiting area begins. It’s on a quarter-acre lot, with a house for interns and a cement pad large enough for two RVs, ours and the other volunteering couple. The rest of the property is a gravel parking lot, and a large area of trees and grass with just a slight downhill toward the lake, perfect for Cody to enjoy lots of off-leash ball playing. We’re about 20 yards from the lake, but a stand of native trees blocks much of the view.
In the evening, Cody and I took a walk down the road, and we found a path through the trees, down to the lake. But as soon as we got near the water, we were both swarmed by green flies, so we turned around and hurried home.
Later, I took him into the grassy area on the other side of our neighbors’ motorhome and kicked the ball a few times. On the way back to the RV I picked up the largest feather I’ve ever seen, longer than my elbow to the tips of my fingers.
“I have a present for you,” I said to Marika when we got home. “Close your eyes and open your hands.” I placed the quill between her fingers. She felt the sleekness of the shaft, then ran her fingers up and down the soft brown and white striped edges. “It’s a feather!” When she opened her eyes she couldn’t believe how long it was.
“I know, right?”
“Could it be a turkey feather?” she wondered.
The next morning she pulled up the curtain on the back window that faces the lake and watched five wild turkeys walk past us in the grass.
That day I had a great Mac client call, and I did laundry in the house next door that is occupied by recent college grads enjoying their first bio-tech jobs. In the afternoon we stopped at a local farm stand and picked up delicious corn and some famous Jersey tomatoes.
And then we drove along Wildlife Drive, the eight-mile gravel road that winds around the salt marshes and wetlands. We saw egrets and shorebirds, gulls and ducks, and stopped to observe the pairs of osprey and chicks on the various platforms along the drive.
It is certainly a beautiful place. Big sky, green marshes, and so many birds. But we couldn’t roll the windows down because the green flies were hovering alongside the car, just waiting to get a bite of us.
On Thursday, we showed up for our first day of work. It was more orientation to the refuge than training. We watched a video, walked through the display room, and did a lot of chit-chatting with our supervisor, Angie, a 29-year old contract worker who is suddenly doing a lot of the work of the recently retired manager, including training the volunteers.
Our working days are Thursday, Friday and Saturday. My job will be to work in the Visitor Information Center with the Friends of Forsythe volunteers, answering questions, selling park passes, as well as ringing up sales in the gift shop. The Visitor’s Center is already staffed with two volunteers from the community each day, and, most week days it’s slow, so they mostly sit and chat, or read, or do crossword puzzles.
Marika’s job was supposed to be a walking rover out on Wildlife Drive, pointing out birds and answering questions. But it is way too hot and buggy for a sane person to be outside, without shade, and with the biting flies, so we will see what else she might do.
After lunch Angie took us on a two-hour drive of Wildlife Drive to learn more about the birds, the channels, and grasses. She also wanted to take some photos of the smiley face helium balloon that one of the ospreys had woven into their nest, and to make sure it wasn’t going to be a hazard for the chicks as they begin to fledge.
I sat in the back seat so that Marika had a better view, and it was hot. There was no window tinting, and not enough air conditioning, and I got a bit car sick. So we came back home so Angie could meet Cody, and I stayed home for the remaining half-hour of our shift and took a nap. Marika went back and stayed another hour, being introduced around, then talking with our other boss about what Marika might do for her work instead.
We found a delicious nearby Chinese restaurant for dinner and talked about things. The weather, the bugs, the lack of work for us. Part of me was ready to up and leave, but where would we go? And then we focused on why we are here: for Marika to spend time with her 87 year old aunt who lives in Philadelphia, about an hour and a half from here. So we agreed to see how the first week goes, and we let go of feeling guilty for not having real work to do.
On the way home Marika squeezed my hand and thanked me for us being in New Jersey. She said she knew that this wouldn’t be my first choice. That we are here for her. For the birds. For her aunt. And I squeezed her back, remembering what this life is all about.
On Friday, it stormed while we were at work. We stood at the big window in the Visitor’s Center and watched the lightning flash over the salt marshes, and marveled at how the purple martins sat outside even with the hard rain coming down.
After lunch Marika met with the maintenance supervisor and she got all the supplies she’d need to paint the back wall of the shop garage on Saturday. He said that, after she’s done painting, he’d find her another project, one at a time.
And I worked my first shift behind the desk with an older, hard-of-hearing woman. I shadowed her, then jumped right in, talking with people, taking their entrance fees to go on Wildlife Drive, even answering the phone and successfully transferring the call. And when Angie said that the e-bird app on the iPad wasn’t always current, I showed her how to refresh the screen and reload the page.
And it was fine and fun, but we only had thirty seven visitors in the five-hour shift, and it is painfully difficult for me to sit and make small talk, especially with people who like to complain about things.
That night I had a meltdown. I cried for an hour, not knowing how I was going to survive three months of boredom, with such heat and humidity, and not being able to walk anywhere because of all of the bugs. I hated having to check Cody for ticks after every walk, and, even though we are on the coast, we are an hour away from a public beach. And, on top of all of that, I was out of marijuana, the one thing that calms me when I feel so out of whack. Before I went to bed, I asked the Universe for a way to be OK with being here.
On Saturday we woke to big breezes, 62° and very low humidity. It was almost chilly. The sky was summer blue and there were no mean greenies around the camp. It was so pleasant that I was able to walk the half-mile to the Visitor’s Center for my shift, past the wild turkeys in the trees and a turtle crossing the road.
I worked with two retired men who showed me how to empty the self-pay boxes, and where the supplies are kept for the outside port-a-johns. We had 167 visitors throughout the day and I had fun. I sold lots of park passes and Duck Stamps, and learned how to fill out the special sheet for disability passes. And mostly, I enjoyed talking with the variety of people. And Marika had a good time painting, in the shade, while listening to NPR.
On Sunday, our first of four days off, Marika drove up to Philadelphia to spend a few days with her aunt. Marika hasn’t seen her aunt in eight years, and she is sad to see that her memory has deteriorated, she is no longer driving, and she forgets to get dressed, unless someone reminds her. They ate pizza, bought lots of goodies at the German delicatessen, and visited the cemeteries where most of the friends and family are buried.
Cody and I enjoyed being home in the still-cool and dry weather, and we even sat outside in the evenings, watching the wild turkeys move through the woods. And I ordered a mosquito tent so we’ll be able to sit outside, even when it gets warmer and buggier.
And there is a lot to see in the area. There’s a wind farm that offers tours, lots of local produce stands, and a small museum in Atlantic City, about an hour south of us. We’re going to look into getting a seasonal beach pass for one of the smaller, quieter beaches about 30 minutes from here, so that I can walk along the rolling surf and feel grounded.
Yes, some days are going to be painfully slow and boring. And yes, I’m going to like working with some co-volunteers more than others. But it is only for three months. And it really is a beautiful place. And Marika is loving all of the birds, even if it is through rolled-up windows.
