CWD Lab

The stench lingered outside the building, only to portray the nasal horror that was waiting inside. The smell is hard to describe: it's a combination of putrid fish, rotting flesh, and roadkill blended together in one horrid aroma of death. Once enough of your nasal cells and hairs disintegrate or just accept the torture, it becomes slightly bearable [to some people]. Others entered the building grumbling about the disgusting stench, holding their noses to avoid the suffering, and quickly moving towards the nearest exit. My class, on the other hand, did not experience the luxury of departure. In fact, we were responsible for further progressing the stench through the operation on old deer heads.

Every year, the state of Maine hires a group of temporary biologists to do a "special" job, consisting of a daily routine filled with cutting open harvested deer heads and removing the lymph nodes and brain stems. These are used for the testing of Chronic Wasting Disease (CWD) . Chronic wasting disease is a neurological disorder that causes spongy degeneration of the brain matter.CWD mainly affects the Cervidae (deer) family, and it is most commonly found mule deer, white-tailed deer, moose, and elk. Affected species show serious changes in behavior and appearance. Most commonly, they are seen walking aimlessly with  lack of bodily function displaying weak, slim bodies. Though they can still consume food, the amount consumed gradually lowers causing a decrease in body mass. Chronic Wasting Disease is a huge concern for biologists in all states because it is easily transmissable. If a deer has CWD and it salivates or urinates, the disease is transmitted directly. It can survive for months in an area until another deer contracts it. If deer are all feeding in the same area and one has it, the entire herd is likely to contract it also.

Due to these factors, Maine wildlife biologists are staying on top of their current deer herd data and trying to keep the state CWD free. Currently, there are no known cases of CWD in Maine; the closest affected populations are in New York. Though the populations in New York are supposedly contained, Maine biologists still take caution with their deer populations.
Through the efforts of my wildlife techniques teacher in conjunction with Maine biologists, my class was offered the opportunity to take some of these samples for the state.

The biologist cut through the deer head as the most horrid smell filled the room. We thought we had become immuned to the stench, but apparently, more suprises were awaiting us. After some slicing, the biologist pryed apart a head filled with green gunk. "This is the first one that's ever been green," she choked as we all ran to open the nearest windows. Despite the odor, the biologist chugged on with her job. Quickly, she pulled two lymph nodes from the brain. Soon after, she did a bit more digging and used a grapefruit spoon (I had no idea there were spoons meant for grapefruits, or that they were used for brain scooping) to scoop out a white cottage-cheese like brain stem. In less than two minutes, the biologist had completed her brain work. She swiftly threw the month old rotten head in a bin, hoping that its containment would mask the smell.

I shoved my scalpel into the deer head and started cutting towards the ears. We were to follow the jaw towards the ears then split the head open. There, we would collect the lymph nodes. After obtaining them, we would cut more meat away to expose the brain stem. After some assistance from my teacher, I managed to remove one whole lymph node, and one I accidentally chopped in half. I then started slicing down to reach the area encompassing the brain stem. After some serious meat cutting, I finally got to use my cool grapefruit spoon. When we thought we were done with our heads, our teacher chimed in. We had another assignment: we were to skin the head and remove the jaw. Skinning proved to be much easier than I thought: in a few minutes, my entire jaw was skinned and removed. We aged my deer at around 3 1/2 years, due to teeth wear.

Though it was a disgusting and putrid task, removing brain matter wasn't all that bad. I was not very good at it, but it was a good learning experience.

Can I Suck Some Blood From Your Deer?

Nothing turns more heads than a college student with her hand up a deers butt in broad daylight. Quite frankly, I'm pretty sure that sight would draw just about anyone's attention. It was October 30th, opening day for the deer season for Maine residents. The weather was perfect for hunting: chilly with slight wind gusts. The only thing that could have made it better would have been a dusting of snow. Due to the perfect hunting conditions, it also proved to be the perfect day for us students.
 Our job for the day was to collect 5mL of blood from each deer carcass to send out for testing. We were testing for EEE (Eastern Equine Encephalitis), an aborovirus found in Maine in prior years. Due to the outbreak of the virus in horses, the Center for Disease Control (CDC) asked us students to sample deer blood to test for the possible virus. Since it is hard to get blood samples from live deer (unless you drop a net on them and tackle them), biologists get most of their deer health and age data from deer taken during hunting season. Hence, the CDC teamed up with Maine biologists to acquire disease data from the whitetail deer population.
After a brief lesson on how to accurately collect and store blood from deer, I was left to collect the data. Deer piled up at the gas station as the morning went on; some small does, and some decent sized bucks. Most were stored the the back of pickup trucks and on trailers, which were easy to access, but one was stored on the back of a jeep. Now, the back of a jeep wouldn't be so bad, except that it was slouched over the man's spare tire. All the blood had dripped from the body cavity from transportation, but there seemed to be a consistent amount dripping straight from the deer's butt.
Normal people would just say screw this and walk away. But, since I'm a disease-obsessed nerd, I obviously needed to obtain that sample. For some reason, shoving my hand up a deer's butt was worth it to me. I brushed off any amount of pride I had left in me and rolled my brand new ski jacket up, hoping that it wouldn't dip into the dripping blood, though knowing that my optimism would soon be replaced with a poop covered, bloody jacket.
So, there I stood, my arm reaching up a butt so I could suck 5mL of blood from the deer. All I could think about was the scene from Dr. Dolittle with the doctor and the dog (I don't know if anyone knows what I'm talking about) and how I used to cringe at it when I was little, saying "ewwww thats sooooooo grooosss!". Little did I know that 15 years later, I would be imitating the scene on a larger scale.
Maine residents are known to be awefully funny sometimes. I mean, this isn't necessarily a bad thing, but some people have just been in the woods for waaayyyy too long. Some people just moved to Maine to be left alone and not have to be bothered with weirdos from the city, or in my case, Western Massachusetts. I have been given weird looks in the grocery store while buying nailpolish and organic foods, things that seem pretty normal to me. Can you imagine the looks these people were giving me with my hand up an ass? I mean, I'm sure your face right now is grimaced into a pretty odd fashion. Imagine someone who already thinks pretty normal people are weird.
It was like the circus for the town-folk. Cars slowed, traffic congested, people were both hysterical with laughter and gagging in disgust. Luckily, after a moment, the butt blood was sucked, and the freak show was over.

At the end of the day, I successfully got blood from 36 deer, only missing 5 of the 41 they tagged at the store that day (I felt like I deserved a pumpkin spice latte for lunch after having my head in a carcass all morning). It was a lot of fun, though very bloody, gory, and stinky. I met some interesting people, to say the absolute least, and some impressive Maine hunting guides.
One week later, I went along for another blood sucking experience. Though nothing quite as eventful occurred, I had to learn how to hold a flashlight (it gets dark way too early), deer ribcage, syringe, and blood vial all at the same time. After shoving the flashlight in my mouth and the vial in my armpit, I managed to somehow get blood from 8 deer.
For the season, I collected 44 blood samples from only 2 days of sampling. Not too bad, if you ask me. For further questions about EEE in Maine, visit Maine Fish and Wildlife Press Releases.

Moose Dentistry: Not Exactly My Calling...

  

It's a little late for me to be writing about this, since I did it October 13, but at least I'm putting in an effort now, right? After sucking down a very large thermos of coffee, we set out at 7:30 am (I know, that's really not all that bad) to Solon, Maine. Our destination: Griswolds General Store. Griswolds is one of Maine's registered stations to check in and tag moose (for more moose hunt information click this link). After pulling into the parking lot of the store, we had no idea where to go. We lingered around for a few minutes, soon to be spotted by the wildlife biologist at the station. "You guys missed 2 already," he told us. It was 8:15am, we were baffled. How many people could get their moose to the station so fast when the sun had just risen to hunt less than two hours ago? Before we could even start small talk, a trailer came in, a small bull moose (small as in probably 400 pounds) in tow. The biologist took the hunters inside to fill out hunting information and receive his tag, and three of us students were left to collect biological data. We had to measure maximum spread (width in a straight line from one point on the antler to another), beam length (length from where the antler starts to the tip), points on antler (had to be longer than wide), and whether the antler was palmate or cervicorn. Aside from the rack, we also had to pull one tooth (root and all!), and count tick density in 4 areas in 10cm. samples. I decided to start with the tooth, since I wanted to get it over with. I shoved my hands in his mouth, only to find shattered teeth. This moose had obviously been shot in the mouth. After some struggling, the biologist emerged. "You don't have to pull teeth on this one" he told me, "it's a young one". He proceeded to show us, through shattered teeth, how to tell between baby teeth and adult teeth. After this young one, I was ready to try an adult moose. After a half hour passed, another moose came in. This bull was larger: he was definitely not a youngster. Stepping out of the truck  was a familiar face, one of my basketball referees (weird, I know), and his friend. The rack on their moose was all broken and busted, as was the jaw. The men laughed; they didn't care about what the face looked like. As long as the moose was in the back of their truck, gutted, and ready for the butcher, they didn't care how pretty it looked. I climbed in the back of their truck, knife and pliers in my hands. I jammed the knife down into the gums, my gums aching from the imaginary knife stabbing into them. With the broken jaw swaying around, I couldn't apply the pressure I wanted on the jaw. I sawed at the tooth with all my might, and finally, it budged. After some help, I tore the tooth out of the moose's mouth. I did my deed. One tooth and a big gum-ache for myself, I was done with the teeth. Luckily, the other two people in my group didn't necessarily love ticks. I jumped all over the tick counts. I would gladly deal with an occasional tick trying to hitch a ride on my hand rather than a constant toothache all day. Between 8:15am and 7pm, we saw 9 moose, and had 11 total for the day. One man also brought in a black bear, which his friend had shot closeby to where he shot his moose. Our largest moose weighed over 700 pounds and had a spread of over 120 centimeters. He was no monster (one in Maine was documented over 1000 pounds), but he was exciting for us.  We all definitely had an awesome time, and I hope that I have another opportunity to work at a moose check in station, just maybe not doing the teeth?

The Beginning

So, I should have started this blog a long time ago, but the hectic life of a college student always stands in the way. As most of you know by now, I'm Molly McCarthy, a junior at Unity College in Maine with a double major in Environmental Writing and Aquaculture & Fisheries. Oh, and a minor in wildlife. Due to this combination of writing, fish, and wildlife, I figured a blog about the different adventures I take while thriving to be a young biologist would be pretty cool. So, lets get started...

My interest in fish and wildlife came early: instead of playing with dolls like other girls my age, I caught frogs everyday afterschool in the pond my dad had built so he could teach my sister and I how to fish. Before I was 5, I could cast my own pole (even though it was push-button) and catch fish: all by myself. Hunting wasn't quite brought into my life as quickly, my interest only began when I saw one of my dads deer hanging from my swingset. Despite my disapproval of location, I was enthralled. After my first taste of venison, I knew I would hopefully be hanging a deer in the front yard someday.

So, here I am now, 20 years old and pursuing the same interests as I did when I was young (though I don't really go and catch frogs all that often anymore). I have taken on some interesting adventures, to say the least, throughout the years. In high school, I became an intern at the Cronin National Salmon Station and met a biologist who urged me to follow my dreams and work with whatever made me happy. After graduation, I moved into the small town of Unity, Maine, and the rest is history.

Lets start with this semester, my first semester of my junior year. JUNIOR YEAR! Wasn't I in high school, like, yesterday? It's weird how time flies by. Since I am so close to getting into the real world (talk about heart attack) and having to find a full time job, I figured some volunteer experience would be beneficial to me. This blog will mainly explain what I do (from pulling out moose teeth to loading a truck with thousands of fish) and the unique (to say the least) people I meet along the way.