field gems

March 29, 2011

We finished-up by 1 in the afternoon but the day had been eventful, and was far from easy.  A few days prior, our boss's adviser made a last-minute decision:  in addition to our present workload, we would begin collecting vegetation data for Golden-winged Warblers banded in previous years. We had only a few weeks left to finish up the field project, and so we had to haul some ass, so to speak.

The three of us set off  on a familiar trail towards Tonio's finca (farm) to conduct eight vegetation surveys.  Last year, two male golden-wings were detected up in the hills we were strolling around in.  According to the field protocol, four points are needed for each bird's territory.  The first point at which we record vegetation data is where the bird was detected.  From this hub three more points, 50 meters away, at 0, 120, and 240 degrees are surveyed. 

So, we knew where we had to go, but, like most of our study sites, our destination lay deep within the confines of pre-montane rainforest.  The majority of our "veg-points" required busting serious ass (so to speak) through primary and secondary forest - spelled Thick, Spiny, Dense, and Vine-y.

Cypress takes a GPS point next to one of the largest trees we had to measure

GPS in hand, Cypress led us to the first four points, Jeffe took us to 5 and 6, and I finished things up at the last two.  We slipped through greasy mud, and whacked and crashed through tall, wet grass, vine tangles, slicing our machetes through small trees and brambles.  Small bleeding cuts appeared on exposed hands and arms, and occassionally, legs were impaled on small sticks jutting out of the damp earth.  The entire time we were accompanied by a horsefly or two (or three, or four), excellent company to our misery.

Cypress and Jeffe disappear behind a wall of vegetation 

We measured canopy height, percent cover, and the number of vine tangles (goldies love to forage in them).  Then we measured the diameter-at-breast height (dbh) of all the trees we spied through our yellow-tinted prism.  Last, we classified the area as primary or secondary forest.  We moved on to our next point.

When we finished all eight points Jeffe led us out of the thick of the forest, back to the main trail that would take us back down the hill and to our field vehicle.  We had back-tracked nearly thirty meters when all of the sudden Jeffe emitted a cry,

"Yeeeoooowwwww!"

We all stopped dead in our tracks.

"What?!"  We cried back, hearts pounding.

"A snake!"  Jeffe replied, breathless. 

We pried our heads over one another, craning our necks to look in the direction of our boss's trembling gesture.  And laying there, curled next to a log, was a Fer-de-Lance. 

Property of www.hidephotography.com

Most herpetological textbooks label this large viper as the most dangerous snake in Central America.  But belying its malignant reputation, the snake sat motionless and peered at us over the plump, green coil of it's body.  It flicked its tongue in our direction, surely catching a whiff of our fear and curiosity.  We took advantage of this rare opportunity (rare in the sense that we weren't being lunged at) and snapped a few photos of the beast, who had probably just eaten something which explained why it didn't move.

After the boys were finished poking and prodding the snake with the tips of very long sticks, and thus satisfied that the snake wasn't going to come after us, we hurried along the rest of the way, silently wondering at how many other vipers we had unknowingly brushed past.  We found an open path that eventually led us to the main road.  We paused near the end of the trail and focused our binoculars on a pair of White Hawks, that in turn, eyed us suspiciously as they perched high in a tree.  They soon returned their twin gazes toward the grass, searching for prey, and we took our leave. 

A bad photo of a beautiful bird:  The White Hawk

"Caballo Blanco", our 1995 Nissan Pathfinder, was waiting for us at the bottom of the hill. Our bones aching, and our foreheads dotted with beads of sweat, we clambored into the truck and headed home.  As we bumped and shifted over the white rubble of Cedral's main roads, I tried to absorb the sights that I had taken for granted so many times before.  The colourful houses, the blossoming trees, even the preotective dog choking itself at the end of its chain. 

A Capuchin Monkey gives us a quick view before he too
disappears into the thick of the forest

My time here was drawing to a close.  Only two weeks remained and soon Cypress and I would find ourselves on the other side of the world.  I wanted to remember this place, and lock it away.  Although the work was hard, and the snake encounter had left me a little weak in the knees, I was happy for the adrenaline rush.