I just finished reading Vinson's wonderfully descriptive writings of his journeys in central Mexico. I highly recommend taking a peek at Mycoblastus to see for yourself. Latin America enchants others as much as it enchants me, it seems.
Spending time at La Selva makes me feel like a scientist. My world is a bubble with green leafy walls and a floor of well-kept tropical grasses. The kitchen staff serve the same cafeteria quality meals every day at the same times, and I grab a tray and settle into the rice and beans with the rest of my classmates and many other visiting white people, all of whom profess to be outrageously busy working on this or that project.
Last night we wandered through the darkness staring at the ground, looking for raiding colonies of army ants. The forest at night chirps, slithers, whistles and drips with an intensity rarely seen in the temperate zone. Occasionally a lone bird hoots or grumbles in the darkness. Peccaries snort in alarm and rocket away through the underbrush. Phosphorescent beetles bumble through obscured obstacle courses of branches and leaves like so many remote-controlled green and orange Christmas lights, spinning and weaving down the trail, eventually disappearing around a tree tunk or winking out of sight.
Spiders rule the night here. Adam observed that there seems to be just about a one to one ratio of leaves to spiders in these forests. These eight-legged hunting machines scurry and jump through the forest, tracking down the billions of potentially tasty insects. The majority of spiders here live large, dwarfing the tiny temperate species we're so used to seeing in the States. Gargantuan wolf spiders like hairy, brown sea stars in miniature wait in the leaf litter to ambush unfortunate crickets. Their larger pairs of eyes (they have several pairs of smaller eyes) reflect the light from our flashlights and glimmer in the black; a universe of twin star systems scattered around the forest floor, prowling.
Adam's headlight works much better than mine. Anja's lamp lacked batteries, so we relied on Adam to see for us in the dark. We could not have picked a better person. A lifetime of hunting critters in the Ozarks of Missouri has provided the skills to spot the most cryptic of creatures in the tropical night. He spotted a glowing eye a couple meters off the trail, then crept up and caught it, revealing its identity: a nightjar. One of a group of nocturnal birds blinded by bright lights and hesitant enough to capture. They rely of camouflage to conceal themselves from predators, but not from an Ozark boy gone tropical.
No snakes last night. We suspected a Fer de Lance might make an appearance, but it never happened. Their venom is a hemotoxin, dissolving one's blood vessels and generally causing a great deal of pain, though usually not death. A heightened sense of danger pervades this place. Such a density of life seems to push toward an equal increase in the capacity of the organisms here to compete for resources, which means danger for other organisms. Venomous snakes, scorpions, spiders, and painfully thorny plants are just the tip of the leafy green iceberg. Jack warned us against the practice of standing near trees with monkeys in them. The little primates have a nasty habit of pitching branches down at unsuspecting human victims. The weight and velocity of such a falling branch is sometimes enough to kill a person. But they look so cute! How ironic! I thought. Appearances are deceptive.
Soon I will again amble over to the cafeteria, this time in flip flops instead of clunky rubber boots. We will eat some rice, beans, and hopefully some vegetables, and then a few hours will pass before this evening's lecture on epiphyte diversity in the forest here. I'm excited to see this! The lecturer, by the name of Cat Cardelús, researched the exact subject of my former project, and has given Rebecca and I the chance of a lifetime by suggesting we do a study on epiphyte biomass here at La Selva. "The results of this study are perfectly publishable," she said. ¡Que suerte! What luck! Next quarter just keeps looking better and better. Now all I have to do is protect my biological resources from all these hungry tropical critters long enough to make it happen.
Spending time at La Selva makes me feel like a scientist. My world is a bubble with green leafy walls and a floor of well-kept tropical grasses. The kitchen staff serve the same cafeteria quality meals every day at the same times, and I grab a tray and settle into the rice and beans with the rest of my classmates and many other visiting white people, all of whom profess to be outrageously busy working on this or that project.
Last night we wandered through the darkness staring at the ground, looking for raiding colonies of army ants. The forest at night chirps, slithers, whistles and drips with an intensity rarely seen in the temperate zone. Occasionally a lone bird hoots or grumbles in the darkness. Peccaries snort in alarm and rocket away through the underbrush. Phosphorescent beetles bumble through obscured obstacle courses of branches and leaves like so many remote-controlled green and orange Christmas lights, spinning and weaving down the trail, eventually disappearing around a tree tunk or winking out of sight.
Spiders rule the night here. Adam observed that there seems to be just about a one to one ratio of leaves to spiders in these forests. These eight-legged hunting machines scurry and jump through the forest, tracking down the billions of potentially tasty insects. The majority of spiders here live large, dwarfing the tiny temperate species we're so used to seeing in the States. Gargantuan wolf spiders like hairy, brown sea stars in miniature wait in the leaf litter to ambush unfortunate crickets. Their larger pairs of eyes (they have several pairs of smaller eyes) reflect the light from our flashlights and glimmer in the black; a universe of twin star systems scattered around the forest floor, prowling.
Adam's headlight works much better than mine. Anja's lamp lacked batteries, so we relied on Adam to see for us in the dark. We could not have picked a better person. A lifetime of hunting critters in the Ozarks of Missouri has provided the skills to spot the most cryptic of creatures in the tropical night. He spotted a glowing eye a couple meters off the trail, then crept up and caught it, revealing its identity: a nightjar. One of a group of nocturnal birds blinded by bright lights and hesitant enough to capture. They rely of camouflage to conceal themselves from predators, but not from an Ozark boy gone tropical.
No snakes last night. We suspected a Fer de Lance might make an appearance, but it never happened. Their venom is a hemotoxin, dissolving one's blood vessels and generally causing a great deal of pain, though usually not death. A heightened sense of danger pervades this place. Such a density of life seems to push toward an equal increase in the capacity of the organisms here to compete for resources, which means danger for other organisms. Venomous snakes, scorpions, spiders, and painfully thorny plants are just the tip of the leafy green iceberg. Jack warned us against the practice of standing near trees with monkeys in them. The little primates have a nasty habit of pitching branches down at unsuspecting human victims. The weight and velocity of such a falling branch is sometimes enough to kill a person. But they look so cute! How ironic! I thought. Appearances are deceptive.
Soon I will again amble over to the cafeteria, this time in flip flops instead of clunky rubber boots. We will eat some rice, beans, and hopefully some vegetables, and then a few hours will pass before this evening's lecture on epiphyte diversity in the forest here. I'm excited to see this! The lecturer, by the name of Cat Cardelús, researched the exact subject of my former project, and has given Rebecca and I the chance of a lifetime by suggesting we do a study on epiphyte biomass here at La Selva. "The results of this study are perfectly publishable," she said. ¡Que suerte! What luck! Next quarter just keeps looking better and better. Now all I have to do is protect my biological resources from all these hungry tropical critters long enough to make it happen.
posted by cody @ 8:36 AM
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