Leaving TRC

As luck would have it, it was not raining when I woke up to my alarm at 330am, which meant that I could go to the claylick with Jerome to catch the early morning activity before I left for good.

We spotted many birds on the claylick or above it, including: macaws (scarlet, red and green, blue and yellow, chestnut fronted, red bellied and blue headed); parrots (blue headed, mealy, orange cheeked, white fronted); parakeets (dusky headed, white eyed).

Back at the TRC I had breakfast with Jerome, and said many goodbyes to him and to Karina and other folks. It was difficult. Jerome had to leave to go tree climbing, and that was the last that I saw of him.

During the boat ride downriver, the soft, tropical air blew through the open boat. In a few hours I would be in cool, dry Cuzco with only memories of my stay in the jungle.

My Last Full Day at TRC

Laughing, thanks to Lupe

Although I had been anticipating with relish leaving the jungle so I could slip into cooler and less humid air, I had not been looking forward to this day. Even with the hardships, this experience was something special. But after all, there was a routine to be followed.

The morning was rainy, so instead of going to the claylick to see the birds one last time there, data entry filled the morning hours. I set myself up with the laptop on the floor of my room, plopped against a couple of pillows, and did what Karina told me to do. Jerome stuck his head in several times to say "hi". I think he's going to miss the companionship of another non-South American, if nothing else.


A Water-Filled Dead Palm Leaf

As this was my last day, Karina had asked me what I wanted to do if the sky cleared. Since I hadn't been really just walking in the forest with no objective (monitoring, climbing, etc.), I told her I would like to do that. She assigned Jerome the job of a point count at 4pm, and suggested we go out much earlier and do a walk first.

Jerome pointed out many birds to me that I had not seen before: white fronted toucans, jackhammers, etc. He such a great naturalist. It was wonderful to be out in the forest with a friend and just taking it all in, knowing that I wouldn't be able to do the same thing tomorrow.


Retrieving the Slipper Over the Rail

Later in the day, on our return, we had a bunch of laughs, thanks to Lupe (a guide), and in the process, I dropped one of my Chinese kung-fu slippers through the rail of the walkway connecting the dining area with the kitchen. I jumped over the rail to get it, and broke one of the bamboo posts in the process. The cook saw me, and didn't look very happy.

Adapting to Hardship

Hardships of the Jungle: A cockroach in the juice


On the first occasion that Karina kept Jerome and me out from 5am through the breakfast hour into the late morning/lunch time, I was fatigued, hungry and thirsty, and moreover filled with resentment at Karina for having done this. How could a manager drive her “employees” to work through mealtimes and not even hint at an apology or suggest that she would make it up to us? On this occasion I was angry at Karina for having disrespected and taken advantage of me as a volunteer, merely using me as a resource, perhaps tossing me aside when I was empty of energy with which to help her more.

I think I have grown since that first occasion of “neglect.” Today Jerome and I worked very hard for Karina, until the mid-afternoon, with only breakfast squeezed in between two long sessions of climbing. It had been nearly 8 hours since our last meal, we had not taken enough water, and I had had no rest since the wee hours of the morning. My perspective on the preceding hours, and my emotions toward Karina, differed from the first occasion of hard work without rest. Yes, I was tired and hungry and very thirsty, dripping with sweat that was as bereft of salt as distilled water is. When would I finally eat and drink? Somehow, it didn’t matter as much as it did the first time.

At least part of it was the unknown or the lack thereof: experience. I knew from experience that eventually I would be able to quench my thirst and to satisfy my hunger. I knew with certainty that we eventually would return to the TRC. The first time, I was in uncharted territory, and emotionally unequipped to deal with a person who was working me beyond what I was accustomed to. Second, I had learned more about Karina, and knew that this was how she worked. She was not simply abusing me, she was getting work done while she could get it done: while the weather held out, we would accomplish as much as we could. Looking back on this experience, I am not sure that if I had been 30 years younger (like Jerome) I could have dealt with this any better. I still would have had expectations about work, about others, about my own abilities. In fact, perhaps as a 57 year old man, I know more now about what my body can accomplish, and am more able to deal with stressful situations. In retrospect, I think it has been very good to push the limits, and to be forced into uncharted territory as an older person. Perhaps experiences like this will keep me from falling too much into ruts and allow me to continue to learn and adapt as I am sure I had to do as a younger person.

Or maybe I'm just thinking too much.

The Bee Chicks are Dead

The Tambopata River, Andes in Background

Karina and I went climbing at 5am this morning -- just three nests. We had a good talk and I expressed how I will miss the experience in the jungle. Interestingly, she expressed how much happier Jerome has been with me here. Wow, did that feel good!

Karina climbed the bee nest, where Jerome and I earlier had found a couple of biting bees on the chicks we had lowered from a nest in close proximity to a bee hive. She called down that the chicks were dead. Jerome, when I told him, was furious because he had recommended that this nest not be climbed in the future specifically because of the bee problem.

Late morning we started climbing all the other nests, with Jerome. I climbed many, perhaps 4 nests, Jerome also climbed perhaps 4. It was getting to be very late, about 2:45pm, we had eaten only breakfast, and Karina was going back to TRC for lunch, but Jerome still wanted to film this afternoon! I realized how dehydrated I was when I finally thought to relieve myself and saw dark yellow.

At the start of one of Jerome's climbs, as often happens, he needed to be stabilized at the start to keep from swinging into some trees. He yelled out, “Hold me!” Without thinking, I hooked my arm all the way around his waist, and he screamed with mock horror. I loved it.

Jerome said it would take only a few minutes to finish filming, we were just going to stage the beginning and end of a climb. Unfortunately, the camera had somehow been left on for several hours, inside the bag, and he apologized that he had to return to the TRC to get the spare battery. In spite of everything, it was lots of fun staging the climb, and he filmed me as well (maybe I'll be famous). We finally went into the kitchen looking for our lunch at 445pm. We both gobbled ours down, and I skipped dinner altogether.

Reflections

As I approaached the bar yesterday evening before dinner, Ms. Never-at-a-Loss-for-Words got my attention and asked me how much longer I was going to be at TRC. She wondered aloud how sad I might be to leave such a place after so many new experiences. This set me to contemplating, while she continued to jabber, how deep the depression would be that I would likely slip into once I returned home. Having experienced such a rich time here, how bored and dull would my regular life be in California?

Brace yourself. For starters, I have met someone I really like. I would say “love”, but I don’t know what love is. I have shared many enjoyable times with Jerome – some have been simply fun or interesting, while others have been, I guess, sensuous, caring, and even painful. Every day has been accented by my anticipation of seeing him and talking with him and listening to his accent and touching him. This anticipation has been followed by realization several times every day, and I am so grateful for this, and I am disappointed and saddened on the occasions when it is not. More, I respond to the ease and self-assurance and sometimes uncertainty he brings to each encounter with me. I don’t think I am a monster to him: maybe only a curiosity, but I think more. As I leave Jerome here, I anticipate feeling an emptiness that may not go away for some time. I am sad when I think that the emotions Jerome has let me feel here and given me the freedom to express openly may not find a replacement outlet for a long time.

I have learned about a whole new group of birds. Admittedly my knowledge of parrots is not very deep, but I am enriched by what little I now understand about their biology and their environmental plight. Knowing about their physiology, ecology, and life history increases my understanding of birds in general and will allow me to function at a higher level in my job on Alcatraz.

I have learned how to climb trees, and have become somewhat comfortable dangling from a thin rope 100 feet above the ground, something I had never thought possible.

I have walked and breathed and become mired in muck in the Amazon rainforest, a region that I was not formerly familiar with and that I didn’t know I would ever have a chance to visit. I know the beauty of this region and the richness that it brings to the planet. I have begun to understand the magnitude of the environmental problems that would be caused by its destruction, which, by the way, continues.

I have lived in a foreign culture for 6 weeks. Ways of behavior that formerly seemed strange and utterly different from my own now feel a bit more familiar and I feel a bit more at home. I have learned enough of a language that I can function at a basic level (thank you to Edwin for that).

It will be difficult for me to reimmerse myself in my own culture, and without doubt I will look for more opportunities to challenge myself in the future.

Accommodating Tourists

One of the tasks assigned to Macaw Project Volunteers at TRC is dining in the evening with tourists, and answering their questions about the project, our work and macaw biology. Two nights ago I met one of the tourists (the only one that night!), a woman from Seattle. Jerome, who has first right of refusal at the dinner table, deferred to me, and I sat with her and her guide, Jorge, for an hour as she (mostly) chatted with me and Jorge. A better word to describe the talk that emanated from this friendly lady’s mouth would be drivel. She had a habit of filling every void, sometimes even interrupting Jorge or me to do so, with mostly meaningless talk.

Last night, after two more visitors arrived during the day, Jerome again suggested that I fill the “volunteer seat”. This loquacious woman jumped into her role again to interrupt not only the now two guides, but the addional guests as well. Even when the gentleman guest, who is a cancer treatment researcher, was describing the process of putting a drug through clinical trials, she interjected that she knew something about the process of clinical trials, and the gentleman was forced to interrupt her to continue his detailed and knowledgeable description.

It happened that soybean, containing phytoestrogens, is the substance currently under review, and his wife, the other new arrival, went on and on about how horrible tasting soybeans and soy products were, and how she could never become accustomed to the taste. Every time the husband mentioned the likely benefit of consuming soy products she had to get a dig in! Adding insult to injury for the researcher, drivel-woman stated unequivocally that soy milk was the worst tasting beverage invented, and that she could never use it on her cereal in the morning. It made no difference to the direction of the conversation when the researcher stated that you could obtain all the benefit offered by soy through a capsule.

I couldn't wait to tell Jerome that he had to raise the topic of soy the next chance he had with the wife.

Jerome and I climbed four trees this morning, and Lupe, the guide, and the new couple joined us for the last climb. It was the bee tree, and I had to wear the half body suit for the climb. I got to laughing as I dangled from the rope at ground level as I tried to adjust the harness so I wasn’t uncomfortable and continued to lose my balance. The tourists and Jerome and the guide had a lot of laughs at my expense.

This afternoon I get to see if I can get lost again on the WP foraging walk!

While the Cat’s Away…

A View Down

With Karina in Refugio accessing the internet, Jerome and I were going to do only what we wanted to do. Waking up to rain at 5am, I knew that the climbing we had scheduled for the early morning would not happen. Instead we had a leisurely breakfast and then climbed 4 trees between about 830am and 2pm, with lots of filming happening as well.

Shortly after I had awakened at 5am, I enjoyed a cup of coffee in the open air dining room, and Jerome joined me perhaps a half hour later. I used the opportunity of our being alone together to tell him again how much I enjoyed his company. It's great to be so excited about someone.

When I climbed one of my trees, the father bird was in the nest box and not going to leave to allow me to take his chicks. It took some thought and planning to come up with a strategy to distract the bird enough to take the chicks to be able to lower them in the bucket for Jerome to measure.


A View of the Canopy from a Macaw's Perspective


Later, when Jerome was climbing Macario, he elected not to drag up the bucket and line as he knew there would be no chick to measure. Once he reached the top he called down to me, “Christian! There is a chick!” I tied one end of the bucket line to the climbing rope and he had to haul it up so that I could then send up the bucket. Once the very small chick arrived safely down below for me to measure, and with Jerome dangling from the climbing rope 100+ feet above the ground, the clouds opened up and absolutely dumped. The concern was keeping the chick warm and dry in the rain, but it happens that right at the base of Macario TRC has built a small covered rest area, so the chick and I were fine. Poor Jerome had to wait in the downpour while I finished the assessment and raised the chick back up to him before he could lower himself. By the time we got the rope back in the bag and hiked back to the TRC, we were drenched. Thankfully, the rain was warm.

It’s interesting how life works sometimes. Jerome arrived at TRC hoping to film a documentary but needing much help with the filming, not knowing where he would find the help, and not really wanting to rely on the local people. I arrived at TRC needing to contribute to a cause, and wanting to form a connection with someone of a like mind. It’s been no problem finding ways for me to contribute to the macaw cause, and Jerome has been absolutely the best in terms of willingness to communicate with me on nearly every level.

Clay Lick Photos

Today I was supposed to climb with Karina, but her back hurt, so she gave me a foraging route to do instead. I got lost (in a minor way) two or three times, but it was all good fun, and getting lost was not unexpected, as it was the first time I had done this route and the map that she had given me to guide my way was old and didn’t show all of the trails that now exist.

I spent the entire afternoon at the clay lick monitoring, which got quite hot, though not as much so as last time. Lots of large macaws showed up (expected) as did 2 chestnut-fronted macaws (not expected). I attempted many pictures, and we’ll see what turns out.

I later helped Jerome prepare our climbing bag for tomorrow, and had a couple of chances to talk with him. He’s such a great guy.

Jerome Finds His Groove

A Jumping Stick, Not a Walking Stick

Wow, New Year’s Day, and it sure doesn’t feel like it. For starters, it’s usually a holiday in most places, but not at the Tambopata Research Center, and not with less than half the volunteers needed to do the work there is to be done. I awakened early with a terrible headache, and I hadn’t had an ounce to drink. It was, though, an extremely hard day yesterday, and I may have been drinking too much coffee. After first waking at 4 in the morning, I decided not to go to the clay lick and help Jerome (still feeling used?) and take two aspirin and go back to bed. Though I felt much better when I arose two hours later, it wasn’t till I had a cuppa that my head really improved, a sure sign that caffeine is giving me headaches.
Karina, shockingly not working early this morning, made an extra effort to talk with me, and twice approached me, the second time taking a seat with me after hugging me “happy new year”. She asked me what I was thinking, and I only then realized she really wanted to talk and find out how I was doing, what I liked, what I didn’t like, etc. I told her I wanted to do more clay lick, climbing and if my ears were better, transects and foraging surveys. It was great to finally be able to talk with her – not sure why we hadn’t been able to do it before, but language is definitely one problem.

This day was reasonably mellow, but very hot. I worked inside on data entry in the morning, which was boring but acceptible, I guess. In the afternoon, Jerome and I had been assigned to climb two trees on the island. One guide and her three female tourists came with us so they could see the chicks that we would be lowering from the nests. My elbow hurt from climbing the prior day, so I asked Jerome if he wouldn’t mind climbing both trees, and he was fine with it. (I think he kind of liked showing off his skills for the girls!) I got to do all the measuring and photoing of the chicks, and the girls enjoyed very much seeing the chicks as well.

On the way back to the resort, Jerome asked me how his English was. I told him I thought he had about 90% comprehension, but that speaking needed work. I pointed out a few things I had noticed, but told him I thought his accent sounded good. He also pointed out that he says “Sahnks” instead of “Thanks”, and told him he had to keep saying that that way because it was irresistable.

The guide for the girls asked the manager if I could eat dinner with the group tonight. Dinner was so much fun with Jerome quizzing the girls (two Australian and one American) about the way that girls think, and what he did wrong about the girl from southern California who ended up hooking up with the guide instead of with him! It was all very funny.


Rainforest Petals on a Trail at TRC

A Tough Climb

The Stirrups that Karina Forgot

I guess the last day of the year should stand out as a day to remember for better or for worse.

I met Karina at 5AM in the equipment room in the back of the research area and we prepared for climbing as today’s schedule called for. Jerome, meanwhile, was on one of his long transects (up since 330am). The two of us hiked 3 kilometers in light rain to Cabezon nest only to find out that we were lacking the stirrups for the climbing gear. These web straps attach to the left jumar and are absolutely essential to ascend the tree. Because the tree would have to be climbed sometime that day, we left the pack there under a tarp and returned to the lodge.



After breakfast Karina, Ruben and I headed out to climb. Ruben is a guide who is built like an ape (in a good way) and can climb trees like one. As such, he was designated by Karina to be the climber, while she would collect data. I would be the 3rd wheel of the bicycle. I didn’t seem to be able to do anything right, letting the rope flow over in the bag which Karina was filling. She griped about that, and then griped about me resisting the rope’s pull too much. These morning climbs were done in part to show visitors the chicks, who duly impressed their audience with their cuteness.


The Chicks with the Power to Impress

After Ruben had to return to the lodge with his “guidees”, Karina and I did a tree, with me climbing (since her back has been hurting). This tree, like several others in the area, has not only a climbing rope dangling down from it, but also a wire which sends the video signal of the happenings of the interior of the nest down to a monitor. Somehow during my climb, the climbing rope, the cord which installs the rope, and the wire all became tangled with the cord which is used to raise and lower the bucket containing the chicks (so that they can be measured on the ground). After trying in futile to sort out the tangle locally, I ended up having to lift the 100 or so feet of climbing rope (not light) two times through the tangle that was causing the trouble. (This was accomplished only with a stress-relieving scatological accompaniment.) Returning to the ground, Karina complimented me on getting the lines straightened out, but suggested that it was important to stay calm in such situations!

When we returned, Jerome told a great story, true, about seeing a puma during his transect. This was a very unusual sighting with many of the guides not having seen one in many years of leading tourists on night walks around the area. With Karina, Monica, Lupe and myself for an audience, Jerome regaled us with lots of chatter about having missed his chance with the tourist from LA, who ended up going into the bathroom with one of the guides to have some fun. As the graphic stories, regrets and lamentations continued, and I observed gestures and facial expressions on Jerome that I had not observed before. It was only later that I had to be told by Jerome that he had gotten a bit stoned in the morning after his transect.


The Expression on Jerome's Face

In the afternoon, Jerome and I climbed 3 more trees, I two and he one. He filmed the lowered chicks and I filmed him climbing and then descending, headfirst! Pretty impressive: I think I’m in love. I was tired and overheated (from the hike and climbs) on our return and stood under the shower for a long time. Dinner was going to be late because it was New Year’s Eve, so I ate only boiled potatoes and vegetables, skipping the main course of pizza. I ended the day exhausted, feeling used and taken advantage of, all for a completely pathetic and ultimately futile attempt at attracting someone who is totally unavailable and who, by the way, has not led me on. I’m definitely infatuated!

The Less Glamorous Side of Wildlife Work

Data Collection

Continuing the pattern from yesterday, the heavens dished out more and more of the wet stuff today, though it did let up a bit in the late afternoon. A full day of data entry was punctuated with the loudest and closest thunderclap of my life (39 years).

Data entry is the “other side” of wildlife work. I originally went into this line of work because of all the time I would be able to spend outside with the creatures that fascinate me. Of course, I don’t get to simply watch the wildlife all day, though would like to. I get paid (on Alcatraz) to collect data. Data are numbers that quantitatively describe the wildlife, that try to objectively describe the wildlife. For birds, the data collected can be quantities of birds, ages, locations, distances, heights, times, etc., and may be continuous or discontinuous. Data are generally collected and organized on paper forms. Data collection is the fun part of wildlife and natural resources work.

On days or during seasons when the animals are absent or when the weather prevents data collection because of protocol requirements, biologists have time to do something with the completed data sheets. Generally the data needs first to be entered into spreadsheets or databases. The next step would be analysis of the entered data.

Yesterday and today were days for data entry. Karina generally places a pile of data sheets next to the laptop on the little table she has been using for this purpose, and it is understood that as time permits, I will attack them with as much enthusiasm as I can!

The day was punctuated only by that very close lightning bolt and a simultaneous (as far as my ears could tell) thunderclap. It seemed to come from directly behind the lodge, and made everyone a little bit nervous.

Oh, and the day was also made interesting because of several talks with Jerome. I only half-jokingly told him I needed a guy like him for a partner. I really enjoy spending time with him, and it's too bad I can't bring him back to the Bay Area with me!

A Morning at the Claylick

Dressed for the Claylick

Colpa (claylick) very quiet. Jerome came to replace me at 1130am. It started raining in the afternoon and kept raining hard all day into night. I ended up doing data entry for the afternoon, and got very tired of it. My butt hurt!


The Macaws at the Claylick

A Bee in My Bonnet

The Creature Who Elicited Howls from Jerome

Already fatigued from climbing and helping other climbers climb, Karina informed Jerome and me that we had another full day of climbing ahead of us. Of the activities that she could possibly assign to us, I was happy with climbing – until I saw the last tree I was going to climb today. And Jerome had better watch how far he pushes his filming when Karina is up in a tree, thinking that she won’t be able to see what is taking him so long to weigh and measure a chick!

But that’s getting ahead of myself. As just the two of us packed up for the first climb, Jerome broke out in howls as I dragged the backpack toward the stairs leading down to the ground from the “mudroom.” Looking the direction he pointed, I saw a very large rodent, specifically a rat, quite dead, under the edge of the backpack. Jerome’s guess was it had ended up there “to die” after being poisoned by some of the bait the housekeeper leaves around. I blamed it on Jerome’s carelessness when he threw down the pack the day before on our return. Either way, the rat, or el raton, has provided a lot of material for jokes and laughs with the rest of the staff ever since.



Jerome Dressed for the Bees

One of the items that I saw packed in preparation for our climbing today was a filmy piece of clothing that I assumed was some kinky outfit Jerome was planning to wear in a scene of his documentary. Little did I suspect I was going to be the person who donned it for my last climb of the day. And I wouldn’t be wearing it for effect, either, but for protection from a swarm of bees that nested in a cavity opposite the location of the macaw nest that we would next monitor. With 90 degree weather and 100 percent humidity, already wearing long sleeves and long pants for protection against other insects, I now was told to put on a half body net to protect myself from bees that would surely bite me if I weren’t wearing it. Once I got the damn thing on, we discovered not one, but three holes that were big enough to drive a truck through. Unable to fix one of the three in the field, Jerome said I had better wear his head net for extra protection for this part of the anatomy. I’ve mentioned, I think, previously that Jerome has an odiferous reputation here at TRC. I think that I now know the reason he acquired such a reputation – the headnet. Okay, so not only was I incredibly hot and sweaty and continuing to sweat and engulfed in something that smelled dead, but I had to hang from a rope 100 feet above the ground while bees were trying their hardest to let me know that I wasn’t welcome. In the future, I will volunteer to be a torture subject instead!

If Karina hadn’t offered to let me stay in the lodge to recuperate that afternoon, I would have ignored her commands and done so anyway. Rehydration and a good shower filled most of the rest of the day.

Medieval Torture

The View from the Canopy

As trees and nests had not been climbed for many days due to the abundance of rainy days and the lack of personnel (I was downriver sick, and an intended volunteer left to attend to an unintended pregnancy), climbing was first priority in Karina’s mind.

She and I first went out to climb, while Jerome walked yet another 5000 meter transect. I was elected unanimously to climb the first tree and graciously accepted the post. Everything began smoothly, as it seems to in these cases, but somehow, probably because it had been a couple of weeks and a bad case of diarrhea since my last climb, I forgot the steps required to descend the rope! Wracking my brains did little good, and neither did trying to explain the problem to Karina (in both English and broken Spanish). Never one to be stumped (sorry, that was bad), Karina decided I needed to be lowered from her end, but neglected to warn me ahead of time. When the rope gave way, I very nearly ended up with dirty pants, and it wouldn't have been mud that made them dirty. Putting two and two together, I realized soon enough what she was doing, and saved myself from having to do an extra load of wash. It was still embarassing not remembering. Returning to the lodge after she climbed a couple of other trees, I practiced again and again and again the sequence until I was sure that the 57 year old neurons could make the connections even when stressed (every time I climb).



The Torture Subject


Next on the agenda was the torture. For the baby macaws, that is. It is called “taking crop samples” and involves the torturess (name withheld) inserting a tube 50% larger than the diameter of the subject’s (chick’s) throat into the crop and then removing a portion of the contents for analysis. The goal of this “procedure” is to find out what the parents are feeding the babies. With Jerome hanging 100 feet above the ground waiting for us to return the chicks to him so he could put them back in the nest, the torturess, with my able assistance, attempted the foregoing procedure multiple times on both the #1 and #2 chicks, with no success, unless success is eliciting a cry for mercy from the subject. I was glad when she gave up her efforts. (Maybe she needs to retake the intubation portion of her lab work? Or maybe we could just watch the parents forage to deduce what they are feeding the chicks?)

Hollywood in the Amazon

The Filmmaker at Work

Since I am no longer sick, and Jerome was also feeling good, and in a good mood, he decided to film the night scene tonight. In brief, the scenario is that Jerome and I are lost in the jungle during a night walk and we try to use the GPS to return the TRC, only to find out the batteries in the unit are dead. Using a compass, we find our way back, but not before tramping many extra kilometers through the muddy jungle and several very wet creek crossings. Peccaries and caimans pose complications to the journey. Since Jerome is the star, I am the cameraman. It wasn’t easy, and actually was kind of fun. We got back to the lodge, in fact, around 1030pm, and still needed to get up the next morning before 400pm!

Boxing Day

Rain Coming off the Roof at TRC

I’m sitting on the upper floor of the TRC research wing, in the “library”. There are two shelves on my left packed with technical manuals, scientific papers, picture books, and cheap paperbacks. Air tight military ammo boxes fill another part of the shelf area, each with a label describing the contents, all of which are protected by Dri-Rite gel. By 6:22am, I should be outside climbing trees with Karina, but when she appeared in the equipment room nearly 30 minutes later than she had said she would, she told me that her back hurt too much to climb this morning, and that we would have to wait for Jérôme to return from whatever he is doing so that he could be the second person on the climbing team.

Not altogether a surprise, I didn’t arrive back at TRC until Christmas Day, after having spent Christmas Eve at Refugio Amazonas, having been bumped from the boat there as the seats were all claimed by visitors traveling further up to TRC. Not all was lost, however, as I got one more day of rest at Refugio and met a friendly mother-two daughter family from Denver. The ride upriver was uneventful save a sighting of the giant river otters, although I couldn’t take a photo as they were too distant.

I occupied my time Christmas afternoon doing a lot of laundry and hanging it out carefully, using clothespins that I had bought in Puerto Maldonado, on the lines behind my room, No. 14, which is the same guest room I left feeling ill six days ago.

Seeing everyone here again was good. Karina welcomed me with a hug, and many people asked about my stomach. I also made a trip into the kitchen to let Vlady know that I wanted to eat a regular diet now, not so much because I think that meat is better for me, but because it seem difficult to get much variety here without eating meat.

Jerome was as intense, and tense, as ever. He is feeling a lot of pressure to get his filming finished, and it is difficult to complete with all the rain that has been coming down at TRC. It is fortunate for him that I like him as contemplating spending time helping him shoot on top of all the time volunteering would be difficult. He promises that I will get a copy of the DVD when the filming is completed.

At 635am the rain has again started to fall, heavily enough that it may prevent our intended climbing.

The Results

I took the results of the laboratory tests, blood and the other, back to the emergency room doctor for consultation. He asked many questions, some of which I understood, and a lesser number of which I could respond to in Spanish. Sending me on my way with two bottles of strawberry flavored electrolyte (imagine cherry go-litely without the pronounced after effect) and a five day prescription of Metronidazole for any possible amoeba or giardia that could be hiding out in my gut. The electrolyte is going down pretty smoothly, but I am going to hold onto the tablets just in case I am convinced that I actually have a parasite (they say giardia makes its presence known in ¨waves.¨

Feeling much better, and fortified with three evenings of pizza dinners, I will head up the river to TRC tomorrow morning, Christmas eve, at 6AM.

Volunteer Duties

I realized as I was enjoying reviewing photos of macaws that I haven´t really described the types of monitoring that I am (trying to) help the Macaw Project do. Here they are:

1. Clay Lick
Each day from 5AM until 5PM, someone records all birds present on the clay lick every 5 minutes. When guessing...er, identifying...the species, we have 6 macaw, 5 parrot, 6 parakeet and 3 parrotlet species from which to choose. The calls are supposed to help me distinguish among all the birds, but see below. The monitoring spot is in a sunny, swampy place, so it can be uncomfortable (hot, sticky, insect-ridden).

2. Transects
Two different transects, or monitoring lines, of up to 5 kilometers in length, are defined in the jungle around the TRC. The transect must be walked over specified period of time, and all parrots identified by call or by sight must be noted down with an estimate of direction from observer and distance, and whether the bird was flying or perched. I´m having difficulty with this as many of the calls are very similar, we hardly ever see the birds for the trees, and my left ear that Bob Sansone destroyed with a shotgun blast is of little help in determining direction.

3. Foraging Walks
We walk different trails through the jungle, again, identifying parrots heard or seen, and again a problem for me. In addition, if we actually hear fruit that may have been dropped by a foraging macaw, we search for and collect it for analysis.

4. Point Counts
From defined, marked spots in the forest we count all parrots heard or seen within a ten minute period. Again, I need a lot more practice at this, and maybe a hearing aid.

5. Nest Monitoring
Risking life and limb, with a spotter, we ascend large trees by ropes and ascenders to check contents of nests, both natural and artificial, of macaws. If eggs are present, no further check is made until predicted hatch 28 days later. If chicks are present, they are lowered to the ground in a bucket, kept warm with a water bottle, and weighed, measured (tarsus and wing), examined for ectoparasites, and photographed, then returned to the nest. All of this would be easy enough if the parents weren´t quite so worried about their gene pool, which is why ¨the hand¨ is an essential part of the gear, allowing us to keep them occupied while we are messing with them.

Between all this, there is just enough time for 3 meals, 3 showers (at least), and maybe some clothes washing.

Getting Into the Swing...Installment 2

So after two cups of coffee, some raisins and peanuts, and a pizza, I still had nothing to show for my effort in the way of a sample for the diagnostic laboratory at the hospital. They, however, had the results of the blood work for me yesterday afternoon: unfortunately there was no doctor available to interpret them, and, since my other sample was not ¨produced¨ for analysis, the staff suggested I return a second day.

I passed a quiet night back at the Rainforest office. Actually, with two guard dogs barking at every imagined sound, the office telephone ringing unpredictably and the night watchman watching not the perimeter of the property but some stupid soap opera on TV, I wished I had rememered to bring my earplugs.

The Kitten at the Office


Feeling constipational anduninspired the next morning after a breakfast of eggs, bread and papaya juice, I picked up my novel feeling as if a second day would pass without something to satisfy the hospital laboratory. Nary a nudge was detected by lunchtime as a busload of tourists and guides from upriver passed through the office on their way to the airport, including an American woman with whom I had shared complaints of illness with through the thin, reed wall separating our quarters at TRC. Christine remarked that I looked much better, as in fact I did. Maybe the trip downriver would turn out to have been unnecessary.

Before I would head into town for the afternoon (phone call to Mom, email, web log, camera stuff, hospital lab?), the cool shower beckoned. You know what they say...when you least expect it... Fortunately I had brought with me not only my soap and shampoo, but my entire toiletry kit containing the little clear plastic specimen bottle thoughtfully pressed into my palm by the laboratory technician at the hospital. I would not show up empty handed, tail between my legs, at the hospital this afternoon. A short while later, after a ride in a minibus with about a hundred thousand schoolkids, a proudly presented my specimen to the attendant at the lab, who told me that the results would be available only an hour later.

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The Creche at the Hospital

Getting into the Swing of Things

Sloth Seen on Drive from Port to Office

It´s been nearly a week since my last writing, and for good reason: the internet connection has been unbearably slow, which to you high speed connection users means ¨stopped¨. So how is it that I am writing now? Has the internet staged a miraculous recovery? Hardly.


Alicia the Cook

It so happened that of necessity I had to make a trip downriver to Puerto Maldonado over the past two days. Not to scare anyone, but my, hmmm, digestive system, has not been working as designed under the stress of local foods and, presumably, microbes. My very maternal boss suggested that I board the downriver boat and make a quick visit to the doctor to see if I could find anything out. The other option, ¨stay the course¨, as we all know, doesn´t really work very well.

My five day prescription of Cipro doesn´t seem to have made a dent, that after finishing nearly an entire box of immodium. This morning, on arrival in Puerto Maldonado, Ketty the office manager gave me a lift on the back of her scooter to the local clinic (conveniently located next door is the Santa Rosa Funeral Chapel), where I was commanded to give two samples: blood and stool. I didn´t have any trouble with the blood, but responding to the command for the other has been a bit of a problem, hence I am sitting at the internet cafe waiting for two cups of coffee and some food to take hold. Making it particularly difficult to come through with the goods is a 7 o´clock PM deadline.


Ketty the Office Manager


Anyhow, I´m not worried. I feel much better already and hope to be on a boat headed upriver to TRC again tomorrow morning. Whether my innards will have gotten back into the swing of things will be the determining factor, however.

If I shouldn´t be able to write again before then, Feliz Navidad to all!!

Laundry

The Boot Rack at the Lodge


When I first met Jerome in Puerto Maldonado and had to share a room with him at the Rainforest Expeditions office, I detected a certain smell that was not pleasant. But it wasn’t the “you smell like you haven’t had a shower in a week” smell, it was something entirely different. Don’t get me wrong: that smell was a component, but there was something else in the air. I told him I thought he needed to do some laundry and he kind of chuckled and kept on doing whatever it was he was doing.



Fast forward about a week and a half, a couple of days aft. er I had arrived here at TRC, and MY clothes, and myself, presumably, smell exactly the same! I told one of the other researchers I was embarassed to be near other people, and she said not to worry about it. Everyone knows that guacamayeros smell this way.


The Jungle that Clothes Get Dirty In

I had a late morning this morning, having gotten up at 530am and nothing on the schedule till later, so I decided to do wash. Here they use this bar that looks like a bath bar but is a little bigger and really harsh. I took a cue from Dave and brought my rubber gloves, and am glad I did. It took an hour, and I hope it was worth it, but I won’t find out for a while as it rained today and it’s going to be a LONG time before these clothes are dry enough to wear, meaning the clothes I wore yesterday and today, and which are already smelling, are going to get more mileage on them before I get to feel civilized again…

Food

Karina Walking Down to the Boat to Go to the Clay Lick



Having let Karina know that I was not feeling well yesterday, I think she took mercy on me and reduced my work schedule for today. I didn’t feel good about it though, as it meant that she had to climb all four trees herself, while I just had to look after the climbing lines and the chick monitoring equipment, which, as it turned out, I didn’t do a very good job of. First somehow I allowed the climbing line to get tangled with a video cable that monitors the nest that Karina was climbing. Since the cable pulled out of the camera, it will have to be fixed sometime later. After she reached the nest, she sent the chicks down to me in a bucket, and I had the responsibility to weigh, measure and photograph them. Imagine handling a pound of squirming, warm flesh with no feathers. To take their pictures, I had to hold them with one hand and click with the other. Stabilizing their little wings to determine their length was a challenge too. Everything seemed to go well, but when I looked at the lengths of the culmens (upper beak) that I had noted, the larger chick seemingly had the smaller bill. I’ll do better next time.


Where We Sit to Monitor the Clay Lick


Food at TRC is good. As Karina and I were leaving late for tree climbing and would not return for breakfast at 730am, she directed me to ask the chef for some fruit and bread to take along for the climb. For lunch as well, since I would be monitoring the clay lick, there needed to be special arrangements, and the chef prepared a rice, plantain, vegetable and egg dish wrapped in a banana leaf for me – delicious!


A Macaw That Should Be at the Clay Lick, and Probably the One that Ate My Clif Bars

The chefs know that I am mostly vegetarian, and there are two other researchers who also are. The chefs create just enough of a special dish for us and place it on the table along with the food for the guests (if we are to be eating with the guests). The vegetarian dish is often the same as the meat dish, without the meat, or sometimes an egg dish. Last night a problem occurred when two guests took a portion of the food that Esperanza, Jerome and I were to eat, leaving only a very small amount. For the first time since I have been here I went to the manager, Monica, and complained. She saw to it that more food was prepared for the three of us.

Sick

My Feet in One of the Hammocks at TRC

I suppose it had to happen sometime, and it was no surprise that it was today. The weather was very hot, the humidity was 101%, and we had to do two long foraging walks. By noon I was feeling a bit weak and Karina let me stay at the lodge for the afternoon, as long as I would spend the time listening to my audio recording of the calls of all the different macaws, parrots and parakeets. It’s baffling how similar they all are, but they are beginning to sound a bit different from each other.

Anyway, I think the combination of new and different food and all the heat gave me a bit of heat exhaustion and an “uncomfortable” stomach. It was nice laying in the hammocks suspended from the rafters of the atrium where I could feel the slight breeze of the afternoon. Every time Karina walked by I made certain that I had the earphones on!

Don’t Let Go of That Rope!

3:55AM found me being awakened by my alarm, but after a very good night’s sleep. Having fallen off the coffee wagon after I arrived in Peru, I had not been avoiding coffee in the afternoons. Thinking that it was affecting my sleep, I passed on it yesterday.

Monitoring the clay lick was superb from the “normal” location on the island, and I found I wasn’t quite so baffled by the sightings and calls as I had been yesterday. And the CD of psittacine calls that Karina made for me is working well.
After returning to the TRC at 7AM for breakfast, Jerome and I prepared for another morning of climbing, but today it was to be only twice, with each of us climbing one nest. I would climb the first tree which contained an artificial nest box, and Jerome would do the second, named “Vaginito” for its suggestive shape!

My climb would be a little more involved than yesterday’s as I would have to carry a bucket up with me, transfer any chicks from the nest to the bucket, and lower the bucket down for Jerome to weigh and measure. Everything went nearly as planned during the climb, the measuring and the descent, save for the fact that I had twice to scare the parents away as they returned to defend their nest and its contents from the “predator.” For this purpose, when climbing we carry a stuffed glove on the end of a long stick.


¨The Hand¨


After the successful descent, and while I was removing the climbing gear, Jerome began the tedious process of returning the climbing rope to the backpack. The small nylon line which is used to tie haul the climbing rope up over the branch at the level of the nest had been removed as we had needed the nylon line to haul up the bucket. Unfortunately, we (okay, Jerome) had forgotten this fact, and the free end had been pulled beyond our reach, perhaps twelve feet up, before we realized it! Petrified at what Karina would say when she would find out that we would have to replace a new nylon line, we wracked our brains to figure out how to pull the free end back down. The first effort involved having Jerome sit on my shoulders – we were short by perhaps 2-3 feet. Next we tried having Jerome stand on my shoulders. Balance was difficult and he was still shy a bit. Noticing a slender, tall tree nearby, and using the photographic tripod first as a brace and then to step on with his left foot while his right foot was planted on my shoulder, Jerome was finally able to save the day! While we were congratulating ourselves at our save, we hadn’t noticed the gathering swarm of bees in the air and voracious, large ants on the ground, who soon proceeded to vent some of their confusion or anger on us. We hightailed it out of their as fast as we could, Jerome deciding that we would keep mum for the time being about our little mishap with the line.


Jerome With the ¨Tool¨ That Saved Us