The morning began like most others during the pandemic. I woke up, read the news, wished I hadn’t, took a quick glance at email—and that’s when I saw the message on Nextdoor Bainbridge: Help! Wild animal rescue needed.

My feature piece in the current issue of Wild Hope celebrates those bold wild animals who eke out an existence in our yards and city parks, and the passionate people who study them. “Urban Dwellers” shines a spotlight on the Seattle Urban Carnivore Project, a citizen science-driven effort, led by Woodland Park Zoo and Seattle University, to inspire city people to get to know their wild neighbors.

In the spirit of the March for Science that had occurred a few months prior, Robert carried a fluorescent green sign bearing the words “Science is Patriotic” penned in red and blue. The sign is still taped to the wall of our garage, where we build survey equipment for wolverines and other carnivores so we can better understand their needs.

Normally, I would try to ride it out—close the windows, turn on some piano music, do my best to focus while the engines roared. But coupled with the daily barrage of political noise and a minor construction project underway in our garage, I decided to flee.

Skirting the sheer cliffs makes my knuckles tingle. My right hand grips the armrest while my dominant left coils around a cold bottle of ginger beer, which I release into the cup holder only long enough to nibble on one of the stomach-soothing saltines cached in my lap. Up-up-up we go—like we’re climbing a roller coaster, except I’m far from amused.

When we first checked this camera a year ago, Robert and I completed the trip in three days—allowing ourselves no cushion to explore the surrounding wildlands. Sometimes we’re so busy chasing photos of carnivores that we forget to stop and smell the lupine. We vowed to build in a little extra time this year…

Growing up in New England, I had two mental images of Washington. The first featured the Space Needle, a spaceship perched upon a tall, skinny building. The second consisted of lush green mountains that dropped dramatically to the sea. I never knew of the other Washington…

Are you craving great company and creative sustenance? Please come to our virtual book release party at Rewilding Café! This FREE event will be held on the Summer Solstice, June 22, at 12pm PST (3pm EST).

The spring/summer edition of Wild Hope magazine features my most recent article about efforts to save the Southern Resident killer whales (Orcinus orca) of the Pacific Northwest, whose endangered population currently numbers only 72 individuals.

I’m honored to see my work included in the Best of 2019 anthology published by Rewilding Earth, whose mission is “to develop and promote the ideas and strategies to advance continental-scale conservation in North America and beyond.”

Field season. For most of the wildlife biologists I know, this term is packed with emotions, from worry and panic to excitement and pride. By the time we’re finished, the balance has tipped toward the latter. Otherwise, we wouldn’t keep doing what we do.

My first book was a cautionary tale about a community of crickets who overslept one lazy summer afternoon, precipitating panic among the local townspeople—who noticed that something in their world had gone terribly wrong.