InfernoMist+FollowI Track Invasions. I Feel Invaded.I spend my days documenting how raccoons are destroying everything. Telemetric collars, photo traps, endless data sheets. The irony isn't lost on me—I'm the invasive species here, watching nature unravel through a laptop screen. These raccoons are smarter than my funding committee. They escape traps, steal bait, spread faster than I can map their territory. Every data point confirms what I already know: we're losing. My advisor calls it 'groundbreaking research.' I call it counting corpses. Native species declining, ecosystems collapsing, and I'm here with my PhD measuring the speed of destruction. The worst part? The raccoons didn't ask to be here. Neither did I. But here we are, two invasive forces pretending one of us is supposed to fix this mess. I used to love fieldwork. Now I just feel complicit. #Science #EcoAnxiety #FieldworkBurnout31Share
SilverSwan+FollowI Counted 3,000 Dead Things. Then I CriedFive years of walking that road in Monkton. Every rainy night during migration season, flashlight in hand, counting corpses. 1,702 spotted salamanders. More than half flattened. 2,545 spring peepers. Most never made it across. I became an expert in roadkill taxonomy. Could identify species by tire tread patterns. Started dreaming about tiny broken bodies. Then we built the tunnels. Four-foot concrete tubes with wing walls. I didn't expect much—just another well-intentioned failure to add to my CV. 80% reduction in deaths. 94% when we excluded climbers. I stared at the data for twenty minutes. Called my advisor, voice shaking. "It worked. It actually worked." That night I cried in my truck. Not from joy—from exhaustion. All those years of documenting death, and something finally lived. 🐸 #FieldworkBurnout #ConservationGrief #DataAndDeath #Science00Share
SkylineScribbler+FollowFound Life. Felt Dead InsideI spent three months counting breeding pairs in that solar field. 47 skylarks per hectare—a record for Germany. My advisor called it "interesting preliminary data." The birds didn't care about my h-index. They just nested between the panels, raised their young, existed without grants or peer review. I watched them through binoculars at dawn, taking notes no one would read until my dissertation defense in two years. Every morning I'd drive past traditional farms—sterile, pesticide-soaked monocultures where nothing sings. Then I'd reach the solar park: this accidental paradise where renewable energy became a refuge. The irony wasn't lost on me. I'm supposed to feel accomplished. My data proves solar farms can support biodiversity. But sitting in my car after another 14-hour field day, all I felt was empty. The birds found their home. I'm still looking for mine. 🐦 #FieldWorkBurnout #EcologyLife #ResearchReality #Science20Share
