The Woes of Buying Snake Gaiters (or, “No sir, I won’t be needing a snake girdle”)

I’ve found that prepping for fieldwork has not been one of the more enjoyable experiences I’ve had lately. In the past, all this work has been done without me, and all I had to do was show up the first day of the field season and hello transects, audio equipment, waders, mist nets, etc. I’m not so oblivious that I thought all this stuff sprouts from the earth when needed, but I’ve always joined a field team, never spearheaded (or helped spearhead, rather) one before. Without Chris, thanks Chris, I’d be completely lost. Apparently there isn’t a David Attenborough startup kit—complete with a complimentary khaki pants and British accent—that one can order when getting ready to head out into the field.

It’s not only the purchasing of the equipment that’s set my head spinning; I’ve had a hard enough time with outfitting myself for the field. Take when I went to find snake boots for example (Yes, snake boots. One of the glorious things about Africa is the abundance of poisonous snakes). My search first began online, but a Google search of “snake boots for women” comes up with a lovely and completely practical assortment of snakeskin high heels. Passing up the chance to become the most fashionable researcher for the 12 minutes it would take for me to twist my ankle, fall into a pit of mole vipers, and be eaten for the gall of wearing their cousin, I decided to check out some outdoor stores in town and get some help.

Never have I felt so judged as when I walked into a work boots supply store here in Greenville, NC while wearing a dress and asked if they carried women's snake boots. The two employees at the counter gave me an once-over and smirked, no. As I turned on my heel for the door, they laughed and called me back over. “Sorry honey” the woman of the husband and wife clerk team said to me, “I don’t think we’ve ever had someone like you come in asking for that sort of thing.” (For the record, the style guide for not getting laughed out of the store when purchasing snake boots does not include strappy sandals and a flouncy dress.) Once we got down to business however, and I explained my situation—fieldwork, didn’t wander into the wrong store, vipers, don’t actually mean snakeskin heels, Africa, PhD student, mambas—they were quite helpful. But, turns out there aren’t many snake-proof boot options for women. And the unisex boots don’t go down to my size. So we began to explore other alternatives. Then the husband had an idea. “How about snake proof garters? Wait, is that the right word? Garters? Girdle?" . . . prolonged awkward pause while I ponder potential situations where a snake-proof girdle would come in handy . . . “Uh, do you mean gaiters?”

Thus a momentous life event checked off my bucket list: I am now the proud possessor of snake gaiters.

                            (Most likely the shoes that were intended to go with snake gaiters.)