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Today is Monday, February 13, 2012 at 04:04 AM.


It's early, a delicious, warm, still, fresh May morning in Portland. A rare one in a wet spring. We're going to "climb" trees thanks to the Wind River Canopy Crane in southwest Washington. Dalton's research on antioxidant defenses in conifers is being funded, in part, by the Wind River Crane Facility and the U.S. Forest Service.

Gould and I meet at the Sandy River east of Portland. She bounces out of her car, hauling out her liquid nitrogen tank, a cooler, and a pressure chamber. She is practically bubbling with enthusiasm. "I can be overbearing and a bit much," she acknowledges. A few minutes later, Dalton and his pal, Max the dog, pull up. We consolidate into his truck and point east up the Columbia River Gorge. The river is a glassine reflection pond. We cross on the Bridge of the Gods, and angle east/northeast to the site. Brehm joins us after an early morning fishing fix. The day dazzles, a pleasant contrast to Gould's and Dalton's first trip in a howling snowstorm.

After five months' experience, Gould's gone up in all weathers. Now she and Dalton are in tune with the trees. "It's like you're a fir needle," Dalton explains. As we head to the crane, the forest is green, dark, dense, moist, and cool. And safe. We climb aboard the yellow metal gondola, a steel cage that will be our nest for the next hour and a half.

Our "arbornaut" Buz Baker--the man who will ride with us and help guide Mark Creighton, the crane operator--carefully reviews the safety instructions and helps us secure our safety harnesses and hard hats before attaching us to the car with lanyards. We're jazzed. Gould especially. Baker quietly relays take-off info to Creighton, who lifts us smoothly off the ground. Up we go, past spreading branches, needles reaching for the light of life, stubby yews, lacy hemlocks--up to the hot/cold, dry, brilliant, exposed, and supremely quiet forest canopy, the top of Gould's world.

This trip is possible because Reed's biology students are well respected, and Dalton has cooperative working relationships with professors at other universities and the crane operators. "We're very fortunate to be able to use the crane," says Dalton. "It's one of very few in the world, and the only one in a temperate rain forest."

More information on Gould's and other biology seniors' projects can be found here. Details on the crane can be found here.
Gould appreciates all of it. In particular, she enjoys access to her professors and labs (she says she often works all night on the project), and the ability to do independent work. She knows it's different at larger schools. Gould will continue her research this summer thanks to the Summer Field Research Fund endowed by Arch and Fran Diack. She'll use her $2,500 to work with Sillett.

Like many Reedies, Gould follows her own path academically. She took sabbaticals to "dig in the dirt." She studied forest mycology at Oregon State University in 1995 and then explored tropical ecology and herpetology in Costa Rica and Nicaragua in 1996. The experiences broadened and enriched her understanding of her field and its place in the Real World, so that her education also happens to be training for life outside of academia. She'll graduate in January 1998.

All of this makes sense, given her past. Gould grew up part of a large, rowdy, outdoorsy, bohemian, and energetic family near Baltimore. Her father, an amateur botanist and inventor, roused the kids at 4:30 a.m. to go OUTSIDE. She rode horses and played with her two similarly active sisters. Her mother gave her a dissecting kit when Gould was in first grade. She used it on squirrels, a cow's eyeball, and even her own goldfish. By third grade she wanted to be an open heart surgeon. During the summers her family roamed the Catskills blissfully, freely. School--even the unconventional Bryn Mawr high school--was a tough fit.

When it was time for college, Reed was Gould's only choice. Her enthusiasm for her work is contagious. She mentors fellow Reedies, encouraging them to dig for truffles and examine lichens. "I like to get students dirty; it's my duty," she jokes. She's been almost too effective; Dalton may have to come up with four or five senior research projects each year to satisfy other students' interest and anticipates that one or two students will do canopy work each year for a while.

In addition, through Reed's program with Mary Rieke Elementary School in Portland (funded by a grant from the Howard Hughes Medical Institute), Gould is teaching third-graders to love science by completing and presenting scientific experiments. After she graduates, she hopes to continue her studies in Borneo or Bhutan on a Watson Fellowship. If she goes to Borneo, she'd like to collaborate with former Reed student George Weiblen '92, who has been working there. Afterward, she'd like to link plant physiology, molecular biology, and forestry, perhaps at Washington State University.

It's hot and bright up in the canopy. The forest exudes a resiny-sweet fragrance. An osprey cruises by. Starlings gather lichen for their nests. Creighton maneuvers us 60 meters up, and then over to the top of tree #3032, a Douglas fir. He stops next to the top. It's tough growing here, and this massive plant's sparse and tortured branches show the stress. Each of the trees at the crane site is identified by a number on a map.