Shot from the field (a.k.a. find the fish)

I'm back in the water finally, and tested out the new field camera while scouting electrofishing locations in the gin-clear headwaters of a southern Ontario stream. 

I like the quality, but really need to work on effectively zooming. 

For bonus points: name the species.

Longin' for the Långan

We concluded our first summer in Sweden - yes, almost a year ago - with a visit from SS&S's very own Joe and Lani Stinthrup.

Earlier in the summer I had started to explore Swedish waters (citation: holarctic musings). I had gotten wind of two sister rivers, the Långan and Hårkan, situated in Jämtland (a county that borders Norway and is below Lappland), that promised trophy browns and grayling. You pay per river in Sweden, so you need to find outfitters like this (BEST CABIN EVER). 

The first 24 hours were slow, we had a few rises, a couple hits, but nothing landed. Good thing it was berry season and we had brought supplies. Of note to the SS&S readership:

 Chorizo Ost - don't ask, just do.

Unknown berry, maybe a current - you can cook off the toxins right?

Steak with haloumi 

Joe eventually kicked things off and it wasn't long before we all got in the action:

The majority of grayling were >30 cm (I landed one above 50), but the browns were tiny. There was however A MASSIVE brown that kept jumping right in front of our cabin. We have no photographic evidence but we all caught glimpses of the fish that became known as 'white juan'. I inquired about this behaviour with the outfitter and he said something about parasites and the fish trying to knock them off by repeatedly jumping out of the water - never heard of this before.

In typical SS&S fashion, we turned our locally procured provisions into humble meals that were accompanied by river water. I quite like the taste and texture of grayling as the meat reminded me of a heartier walleye.

We left with a rare sighting of a feral reindeer - apparently there is a healthy forest dwelling population of escapees in this area.

This winter was busy - I built an 8 wt fly rod, organized an international workshop on conservation genomics, and interviewed for a couple jobs - all of which I will post on in the very near future.

Hydraulic fracturing

I am already failing at posting more regularly, but I thought I would share this article:  http://www.foreignpolicy.com/articles/2014/03/31/fracking_alternative_europe_russia_gas_unknown

Ignoring the foreign policy aspects of the article, what I like is that it does a very good job of highlighting how much uncertainty there is in the debate over fracking. While it is not really mentioned in the article, the same uncertainties exist around understanding the impacts of this type of development to wildlife. Also interesting to think about what to do when there is a massive economic driver for the development of a resource before you fully know the consequences of the development.

Weekly posts

For a while now I have been thinking about trying to post more regularly. There are two reasons for this; first, the blog gets pretty stagnant at times and I think it would be better if we had more regular material, and second most of my week is taken up staring at my computer and I thought this would be a good way to break up my week and get feedback on things I am thinking about or working on currently. These posts are likely to be more on the science side, but hopefully I will be able to do enough fishing and hunting to keep it somewhat interesting.

This week all I have are links to other sites that I thought were interesting:

Lately I have been trying to learn more about the science-policy interface with the idea of eventually trying to better focus my own work towards policy. Here is an interesting perspective recently published in Nature (link). The author links to a code of conduct for scientists developed by the Science Council of Japan (link). Interesting that Japan has a specific set of guidelines for science communication and the role of scientists in society. Not sure the US or Canada has anything closely resembling this.

I recently read this paper in Conservation Biology that retrospectively assesses the IUCN status of most carnivores and ungulates in the world (link). Most have had a decline in their status over time. Interesting thing to think about from this is that our perspective on a species status tends to be more near term. The authors suggests this can lead to shifting baselines in our expectation for the conservation of species- e.g. if a local population has stabilized over the last decade, but exists in only 10% of the range it occupied 30 years ago, is this really a success?

Lastly, a super nerdy link about data compression (link) and R. R's basic data compression outperforms the compression of other formats even after they have been zipped.

Winter beasts

I went bison hunting last weekend. Nathan, who you'll remember from my 2012 sheep post, came as well.

Bison hunting is a winter activity, with the season running November to March, with a six-week hiatus from New Years to mid-February. It's also a mechanized activity; bison live well back from the road, and even if you could manage to ski or snowshoe into where they are, there's no way you'd ever move it home. Snowmachines and skimmers are the order of the day.

What to pack when hunting 1000kg animals at -25C

Our plan was to head into the backcountry north of Kloo Lake early Saturday morning, overnight in the hills, and hit the highway again by dusk on Sunday. It was new country for both of us, but we were armed with information from a few people who had hunted there before, and I'd gone over the best aerial imagery I could get my hands on, and figured out some trails that would get us into where we wanted to go. We also had these to go on.

A quick digression on Yukon bison. The wood bison currently in Yukon are descended from animals introduced by the government in the 1980s and 90s, mostly from Elk Island stock. There's historical evidence for wood bison presence in Yukon, but it's been hundreds of years since the last ones disappeared. There were a few reasons for introducing wood bison, with a major one being the establishment of one of several independent, self-sustaining herds as part of a Canada-wide conservation strategy. The herd's done well. Tags went from draw to over-the-counter tags a few years ago, but even so bison numbers are still growing. As the population's beyond its target, hunters are encouraged to take bison (particularly cows) to keep it in check. They're not easy to hunt, though - they're highly mobile and increasingly wary - hence the government-issued bison maps.

Back to the hunt; Saturday dawn, and we're at the trailhead. We headed out, with the goal of getting north of Kloo Lake, and looking for sign.

Three ways to turn gas into meat?

Another digression, on process. Bison move, and aren't the kind of animal to be dependably found in one location for much longer than it takes to feed, digest and wander off. The two ways of encountering them are to glass from a vantage point, trying to spot brown lumps on white snow, or to ride through likely-looking country and try to cut tracks, which if they're fresh enough you follow on foot/snowshoes. Likely-looking country, in the case of bison, is usually associated with grazing - they feed on south-facing grassy hillsides, and in lowland sedge meadows. Cows and calves usually move in small groups, whereas lone animals seem to be bulls (in my experience, anyway). Speaking of experience, bison have rapidly gained a bunch when it comes to hunters, having been hunted for a few years now. Nothing moves them out like the sound of a snowmachine; approaching on foot seems the only way to get close. /digression

Our first foray off the lake, not knowing exactly which route we were after, followed a narrow, oxbowed river, incised well below the forest level, north off the lake. It was fun riding - like being on a particularly winding rally course - until Nathan did this:

Gun it and hope.

My gut reaction, as he broke through the river ice, was to figure we were headed for home once we'd fished the sled and gear out the river. Impressively, though, Nathan pulled off a successful emergency water-skim (which essentially involves pinning it and floating on the cushion of air/water/slush the track's pushing down into the water), and reached the other side without getting much more than his track wet. After finding a safe(r) spot to cross back, we changed our minds on this route, and found another.

We traveled a lot the first day, making it about 45km in. There was lots of old bison sign, and we actually saw some very distant bison (one group of ten cows and calves, and a lone bull) on inaccessible slopes, but nothing we could possibly get to. Ask dusk fell, we set up camp in a spruce thicket. It is possible to make an excellent bonfire if you have a chainsaw and unlimited firewood at your disposal.

Camp, at a rare lull in bonfire activity.

Waking in a tent gently snowing our frozen breath back down onto us, we got up, had a leisurely fireside breakfast, broke camp, and headed to higher ground to try glassing (given our inability to find fresh sign the day before). Greater altitude brought some useful vistas, but no accessible beasts.

Looking south toward Kloo Lake and the St. Elias Range.

More riding, through promising-looking but empty country. It's been an odd winter, with very little snow since a warm spell in January melted December's big dump. Without a heavy snow layer, the meadows in higher country are accessible, and the pattern that started making sense to us was that most bison were up high, away from hunters.

As the day wound down, we cut a track of a lone bull in a sedge meadow. The tracks were reasonably fresh - perhaps from that morning - and we packed up and left the snowmachines behind, following the tracks.

Bull tracks.

While the tracks showed methodical grazing in the meadow where we first encountered them, once they left the meadow, they showed the bison making a relentless bee-line for the distant hills. We followed slowly and carefully at first, tuned up to the possibility of coming across the bison any minute now. As we tracked further (and it got later in the day), we realized a faster pace was the best option; pretty soon we were sweating rapidly uphill, trying to gain ground on an increasingly determined-looking set of tracks.

Initial excitement.

By 6:00, we had to call it; we'd tracked the bull for 5km, through enough rough country that, had we encountered it right away, would already have meant taking an extra day to cut a snowmachine trail into. Given their size, and the work required to get them from dead lump in the wilderness to brown paper packages in the freezer, there's always a bit of relief in not getting a bison. We decided to savour that, and headed back for home.

The hills that contain at least one bison.

Bivalve bong hits.

You may wonder what the above items have in common. The answer to that started while sitting at the bar of a ceviche restaurant in Manhattan's lower east side. There is a small place called Desnuda where a couple of young chefs make some really interesting, delicious ceviches. They also do other weird shit. One of which is make a quick-smoked oyster. 

I figured I would give it a shot, as it looked replicable. Also I have been on a bit of an oyster binge these past few months. 

The first step - as with most recipes - was to construct a gravity bong. Having of course never EVER done this before, I took to the internet for instructions. I am now on a watchlist, and am publishing this blog post partly to clear my name if it ever comes to that.

I had asked the guys at Desnuda what they were using, and they quickly revealed their secret blend. A Chinese smoked tea called Lapsang Souchong, and Szechuan peppercorns. Both were easily procured in Montreal. These were blended at about 2/3 tea leaves to 1/3 peppercorns, and the bowl was packed. 

Next, shuck. I bought two varieties of east coast (P.E.I.) oysters: a small variety called Shiny Sea, and my favourite, Raspberry Point. The oyster supply in Montreal is really good. You know, the French. 

The next series is fairly self-explanatory. 

The smoke should be really thick, so I burned it slow.
A blowtorch would have been better than the Bic I used. 

It was a two person job to hotbox these guys.

So then I just let them sit there for two minutes. The kitchen got good and smoky, but it is a nice smoke.  

After the smoke they went back in their shells on a bed of ice for presentation purposes, with a few drops of fresh lemon on each. The photo from that step is missing because we may or may not have actually just tipped back the little bowls while standing in the kitchen. But you can imagine how that might be a nice presentation. 

Summary: fucking delicious. Interestingly, the two varieties took the smoke flavour very differently. The Shiny Sea were good, but not nearly as good at the Raspberry Point. I think the natural sweetness, along with brininess of the Raspberry Point made them ideal for the technique. With such a delicate flavour to begin with, oysters can easily be overpowered by sauces. But this infuses a flavour that doesn't overwhelm. 

Next up: freebasing a rack of lamb through a rolled up $100 bill in a locked bathroom. 

Moldy pig

A quick review of the archives reveals that the last time I posted anything of substance, Aaron still lived in North America. I'll ease my way back in - no great outdoor adventures post today - but I am finally embarking on an SS&S-worthy indoor quest; the construction (and eventually, use) of a home charcuterie curing chamber. This is something I've wanted to do for a long time, but finally got around to actually enacting only recently.

The whole thing's pretty simple - an enclosed space in which you can control temperature, humidity and air flow. Mine's constructed in a more-or-less standard way for homemade jobs - an old fridge, a humidifier, and a sensor/controller.

Antlered harbinger of bresaola

The fridge was a moving-sale deal, and for $50, I got a nicer (well, certainly cleaner) fridge than I the one I already have. Inside is an ultrasonic humidifier (finer mist, less trouble-prone, apparently) with a built-in fan; humidity and air movement in one. Missing yet are some racks for hanging, and a couple of screened holes with adjustable closures in the fridge sides for air exchange.

Less complex, more reptilian

I looked around for some time trying to find an elegant solution to the humidity/temperature control problem. Ebay had cheap and plentiful lab controllers, but being from Hong Kong, they were all 220V, and had complex-looking wiring requirements made all the more difficult by having Cantonese instructions. Further searching, however, and I came across purpose-built, programmable humidity/temperature sensor-controllers marketed to reptile and amphibian enthusiasts. Sold. Program a temperature, and it turns the fridge off and on to maintain it. Program a humidity, and it does the same with the humidifier. Luckily, it's always dry here, so I only ever have to worry about adding, rather than subtracting, humidity.

Showing Hank some love brought it up to the free shipping minimum

The latest stage was waiting for appropriate reference to arrive, which happened today. Now, to mail-order in some Prague Powder #1 and 2, a few culture starters, and I'll be ready to start turning perfectly good meat into shriveled, moldy and hopefully delicious shadows of its former self. I figure I'll start small (cured bacon, duck prosciutto, guanciale if I can talk a local guy into selling an appropriate jowl), with the eventual goal of getting reasonably elaborate (Dall mocetta seems appropriately lofty). We'll see.

Oh, and on an unrelated note, the Saturn has some new friends:

Two different ways to turn dinosaurs into noise