Decisions, decisions.

I made a strong gin and tonic with crushed ice and a splash of lime juice.  I sat on my bed and sipped the mind-numbing (and tension-relieving) beverage as I scrolled through old photos from field seasons past.  My heart warmed at seeing images of the Pink Pigeons I had grown to love in Mauritius, the cheeky fairy wrens I chased around Australia and the White-winged Doves so characteristic of the southwestern United States.  I couldn't help but wonder where in the world I would end up next. 

I was nearing the end of my five-week-long (and agonizing) job application process and thus nearly free of all the stress that came with it.  I could finally stop worrying that I would be a jobless hobo come the fall and lose my direction in life, among other things.  I had sent out about twenty-two applications with scarcely a response in weeks.  But as the saying goes, "when it rains it pours". 

A few days earlier my cell phone began to ring, and without notice.  I had completed three interviews in three days and now had decisions to make.  A job in Virginia was all mine if I wanted it, but I had my sights set on a hawk watch position in Pennsylvania.  Another job in south Texas was also interested in my abilities.  But all of these potential opportunities came with their own sets of pros and cons. 

In VA I could work as a banding assistant and teach the public about migrating songbirds, try my hand at banding raptors and learn about Monarch Butterfly migration.  But the pay was lousy and I would have very few days off.  In Pennsylvania I could count hawks that flew within range of a wind energy facility, although I would spend most of my days alone at the top of a hill talking to myself.  And in Texas I could count the number of bats and birds taken from the sky by the enormous blades of a windmill, but it was much too far away from where my heart longed to be. 

By 1 AM I had exhausted all of the possible scenarios of which road would lead where.  There was just no way to know which opportunity was the "right" choice.  So I slurped back the last of the gin that had since grown warm, letting it work its alcoholic magic and sooth my confused soul.  Besides, I could always worry again tomorrow.