A scenic view of a turquoise lake with mountains in the background and purple flowers in the foreground.

Behind the Books

Where it all began.

I was one of those classic “horse girls.” We couldn’t afford a horse, but that didn’t stop me. I collected horse figurines, devoured every book and magazine I could find, and dreamed about galloping across open fields. I even had a huge sketch book where I was constantly refining my dream barn. Horses were my whole world.

But over time, that love expanded. I started noticing more of the world around me: birds in the backyard, slugs on the sidewalk, and box turtles crossing the road. My mom nurtured that curiosity. She taught me the names of the birds and plants we saw on walks and never flinched when I brought home something slimy or strange.

Thanks to her, I grew up believing it was normal to wonder about everything. My love for horses was just the beginning. Soon, I was obsessed with whales—especially killer whales—and curious about every animal I came across. That early fascination with nature never faded. It simply grew.

A young girl in a white dress holding hands with an adult, standing face-to-face with a brown horse wearing a blue harness.
A young girl and a woman on a carousel horse at an amusement park. The girl is smiling and waving, wearing a white sleeveless outfit, and the woman is smiling and holding the girl, with short brown hair and a white top. String lights hang overhead under a tent.
A young girl in Christmas pajamas sitting on a carpeted floor, smiling and holding a toy camel on a stick. She is surrounded by wrapped Christmas presents and wrapping paper. The room has a black headboard, some bowls on a small table, and a Bose speaker.

Finding my way in science.

When I started college, I thought I knew exactly what I wanted: to become a marine biologist and study whales. I had been fascinated by orcas for years. But science, as it turns out, is full of surprises. When the professor who ran my university’s marine biology program retired the semester before I started, I knew my plans were going to change.

Thankfully, a couple of incredible professors opened my eyes to new worlds, especially ornithology and herpetology. I also landed internships at a wildlife rehabilitation center and a big cat sanctuary. That’s when I began to see things differently. I realized how intelligent, complex, and diverse so many species are. Suddenly, it wasn’t just about whales anymore. I found myself drawn to birds, especially raptors.

Then, just as I was preparing to pursue a career focused on birds, I was offered a graduate research opportunity studying fruit bats in the Philippines. I said yes. That project, along with a bat research group I helped lead in southeastern Arizona, sparked a deep and lasting love for bats. As part of my research in the Philippines, I co-authored a peer-reviewed scientific paper, one of the proudest milestones of my academic career.

Birds and bats: the two true groups of flying vertebrates. They stole my heart and still inspire my work to this day.

A woman in safety glasses and gloves holding a hawk with spread wings inside a fenced enclosure.
A zoo keeper in khaki uniform kneeling behind a large tiger lying on the ground inside a cage. The tiger is relaxed with its front paws stretched out and looks at the camera. The cage has metal bars and there are trees and grass outside.
A person wearing a white helmet and a green safety vest smiling while climbing out of a rocky, orange-hued crevice.

Adventures in the field.

After earning my master’s degree, I stayed at my university to teach biology courses for a few years. But eventually, I felt the pull back into the field—the places where science gets muddy, windswept, and wild.

I took a job managing wildlife at an Air Force base in Florida, working with a specially trained dog to prevent bird and animal collisions with military aircraft. Later, I became a veterinary assistant in Atlanta, gaining hands-on experience caring for domestic animals.

Then came Alaska. I trained as a fisheries observer, working aboard commercial fishing vessels in the Bering Sea and the Gulf of Alaska. My role was to collect biological data and samples for NOAA scientists. The work was hard, cold, and incredibly rewarding. I never knew what sea creatures I might see next. On the best days, I even got up-close views of the whales I’d once dreamed of studying. I’ve been lucky enough to observe nearly a dozen different species of whales and porpoises while out at sea.

Every job brought me closer to animals—from airfields to ocean decks—and taught me to look more closely, listen more carefully, and never stop asking questions.

A happy mixed-breed dog sitting in a green marshland with blue sky, clouds, and water in the background.
Several boats docked at a marina with calm water reflecting the boats, mountains partially covered with snow, and wind turbines on the hillside in the background under a clear blue sky.
A young woman kneeling on a wet deck, holding a large fish with a wide mouth and dark fins. She is smiling and wearing a bright yellow jacket and gray waterproof pants, with a rusty metal background and coils of rope on the side.

After years of teaching, traveling, and working in the field, life brought me somewhere quieter—but no less wild.

I met my husband, became a mother, and now live with my family on a boat tucked along a quiet river in Oregon. Every day, we’re surrounded by nature. We watch the seasons change from our windows, listen for the calls of geese and osprey, and search for feathers and fancy rocks along the riverbank.

Three ducks—two males and a female—have claimed our marina as home. They know we’re the family with snacks and they waddle right up to our dock, quacking for treats. My daughter adores them, and their regular visits are just one of the many small joys of river life.

These slower days have given me the space to tell stories—ones rooted in the animals I’ve studied, the places I’ve worked, and the small moments I share with my daughter. My books are filled with real things: the hush of a foggy dock, the glint of a carp beneath still water, the wonder of watching something wild take flight.

Writing and illustrating children’s books lets me keep doing what I’ve always loved—helping others fall in love with the natural world.

Coming home to the river.

A young child wearing a light blue jacket, pink shorts, and a white sun hat with a backpack, walking on a forest trail with tall trees and fern plants, looking towards a scenic view of a valley with fields, trees, and mountains in the distance under a bright blue sky.
Three ducks standing on a wooden dock by a body of water with trees and a building in the background.
A marina with sailboats docked on the right side and a building on the left side. There is a rainbow in a cloudy sky over the water, which reflects the boats and the sky.