part five: May 20 - Pine Ridge Research Center
Listen to the audio version here:
A splitting headache woke Sam from a sound sleep. She glanced at her clock—9:05—and saw she had only slept for about three hours. She would still get these headaches from time to time; the doctors said it was a result of the damage from the failed cerebral catheter implantation and the linkage that they could not remove.
She dragged herself out of bed, fumbled for her first aid supplies, and popped some ibuprofen. This was one of the worst headaches she had been hit with in a long time. Next on her priority list was coffee. The headache was blinding, and she had to physically grope her way around the cabin while struggling to combat the nauseating effects of the headache to make coffee. She hoped that the caffeine plus the pills would at least take the edge off.
Her hands clasped around the steaming cup as she inhaled the fragrant steam. With her eyes closed, muscle by muscle she went through her relaxation routine. Thankfully, the headache was easing off. There was no way that she would be able to even look at a computer screen yet, so she continued to relax as she hugged her warm mug, waiting for some of the pain to subside just a little more.
When the pain had eased enough that she could open her eyes without the light sending shafts of pain lancing through her head, she got to work hooking up her handset to download the night’s data. Damn, she thought as she winced her eyes shut, this headache just won’t stop. It was not as bad as it had been, but the ache was still enough to annoy the hell out of her. She looked at the clock again—9:45 a.m. Three more hours and she’d try to pop another pill and see if another dose of caffeine plus pain meds would finish the job.
Sam set up her keypad to her handset and prepared to download her data. She tapped the keys on the small computer, but the screen stayed blank. She checked the power plug; maybe the solar cell was disconnected again. Last week the squirrels managed to completely knock down the antenna, and it took her about two hours to fix that mess. She started the process of backtracking through the power links, looking for the problem. She finally decided to call down to the base camp to see if there was some problem down below. Not only was the computer link down, but the damn cell phone was dead too.
Great. Instead of trying to catch up on her sleep, she’d have to wake herself up on more caffeine and trek all the way back down the mountain to the base camp to see what was going on. She had to download her data. She wished she could just submit her reports on a weekly basis with an external drive, but Valtech stipulated that she report every day as a requirement for her grant. The public relations needed their “look and see what we do for the world” newscast. She knew she should not be so cynical; they did pay for her research, but their goals and hers were on opposite ends of the ethical spectrum.
The second mug of coffee was kicking in, so she walked out to see if Jack was done eating. Sam looked across the guard to the paddock. The small mountain pony had finished his grain, and he was now picking through the scattered remnants of his hay for the best strands of the dried grass. The mischievous pony watched her as she entered the corral with the lead rope. This was not part of the normal daily routine, and as Sam looked into those deep brown intelligent eyes she knew so well, she could almost read what the small horse was thinking.
The best quality about Jack was also his worst—he was always thinking. He was one of the best trail horses she had ever ridden; Jack could pick his way through the worst trails without a scratch to himself or her. But that same sharp brain kept the rider on constant guard. The moment he knew you were not paying attention, he would leave you sitting in the middle of the trail while he trotted away.
“Come on, boy, I’m sorry but we have to make a trip back down the hill today. I know we just got here, and now we have to go right back down,” Sam said sweetly to the small horse. He gave her a sideways look and walked to the opposite side of the corral and stood there watching her.
“Get over it, you little prick,” she growled. She knew if she tried to walk over to take hold of his halter, he would just keep walking and stay just out of her reach. But she also knew her little buddy too well and went into the barn to get a handful of the grain he couldn’t resist. As he gently ate the grain from one hand, she caught his halter with the other. She clipped him to the hitching post, brushed away the dirt and debris from his fluffy coat, and tacked him up. She packed her equipment in the saddlebags, mounted, and they headed back down to the research center’s main office.
She never tired of riding through the forest—the whisper of the breeze as it passed through the boughs of the trees, the muffled sound of her horse’s hooves on the thick needle mat that covered the forest floor, and the shifting rays of sunlight that squeezed through the canopy.
In the early 1900s, the land had been logged bare and used for pasture by small family farms, but then large corporate farming put the small family farms out of business, and this terrain had been too steep for the commercial farming techniques used by the huge, bloated corporations. Consequently, many of the small farms had been abandoned, and the land had been reclaimed by forest. This tract of forest had not been logged for nearly 100 years, and the canopy had grown thick enough to almost completely block the sun in places.
Along with reforestation, species of birds and animals that had not been seen for over 70 to 80 years were now returning, and her little owls were just one of those species moving into this newly established habitat. She had come to this area to survey the renewed bird population for the Audubon Society when she discovered the presence of these small owls. She knew that this was not their normal habitat, but here they were in a forested environment, and this change in the small raptor’s habitat made this an extremely interesting study opportunity. It had been the Society that had sent her to Valtech to inquire about the grant to study her findings.
She had been letting her mind wander when she noticed that Jack had the bit in his teeth. She worked the reins down to take back control of his head. “Ok, you little prick, I know this is not our regular routine,” she growled at the small horse. “Get over it! Remember, I’m supposed to be the boss here.”
Sam gave him enough leg pressure to move him up to his ground-eating, bone-jarring trot, which usually worked to give him an attitude adjustment. Jack was all attitude, and that was just one of the reasons she loved this headstrong pony.
Jack was almost big enough to be classified as a horse—13.75 hands. His breed was some mix of Icelandic pony plus something even more stubborn. If that wasn’t enough, a friend had told her that he believed the small horse was a proud cut, which basically meant that Jack still thought he was a stallion. Wherever she went with Jack, if there were other horses involved, he had to prove that he was the alpha.
Once, Sam had taken a group up into the mountains on a bird-watching tour. One woman had brought her American Standard mount. The majestic horse was a large, black, well-muscled animal, and he was a third bigger than Jack. But that didn’t stop Jack from announcing his challenge. Sam had no sooner started to swing up into the saddle than Jack took off straight for the larger horse. Sam had only one boot in the stirrup and was yelling at the small horse. She finally got her other leg over the saddle and her boot into the stirrup and pulled his head around until his nose was touching her knee, then set both heels to make him spin.
With one eye still on the other horse, Jack fought to keep going, side-stepping at the stunned woman and her horse. The woman watched in alarm as the smaller horse fought his rider to continue his sideways crab-walk toward her horse. Sam was embarrassed and apologized for her idiot horse, and they kept the two animals as far apart as possible through the entire trip.
She now kept Jack at this ground-eating pace until he settled down. She estimated that they would be at the base camp about 10:30, and then she would find out what was going on.
