Playa Nancite 16 PMpSun, 29 Jul 2007 16:55:12 +000055Sunday 2007

One reason why Parque Nacional Santa Rosa is so cool is because it encompasses both land and water.  Its bounds include the dry hills of the Santa Elena Peninsula, with scrubby bushes and no patch of shade large enough to relieve an iguana; the enormous trees of Bosque Humedo, one of the few bits of primary forest left in the dry forest; the acacia-ridden second growth (where I spend my time with the wrens), clustered with trees and shrubs at various stages of regrowth, joined by vines this way and that; and the pristine coast, with long sand beaches that are famous for surfing and little sandy coves where the cliffs have been carved out. 

A few days past, I had the opportunity to visit one of the beaches in the park, called Playa Nancite.  This little beach, no more than 800 meters long, is famous for massive surges of nesting turtles (Olive Ridley turtles in this case).  As many as 8000 turtles can visit this ribbon of beach in one day, all laying over 100 eggs a piece, often digging up another’s nest in the process.  I’ve seen pictures of the entire beach filled with turtles – a traffic jam without traffic rules. 

These mass events start sometime in September, so I was a little early to be able to experience it.   But I had heard so many wonderful things about Playa Nancite that getting myself there was on the top of my list.  But it isn’t just a walk in the park (so to speak) to get there.  It is a 15km hike (a little over four hours), much of which is open and exposed to the sun.  I went with my coworkers and some visiting friends – seven of us in all. 

Although I was there for a day off, it wasn´t very restful.  We all woke up at 3:00 am to walk the beach and look for early nesters.  I was glad to get out of my bed, because my mosquito net wasn´t working very well, and as a result I spent more time slapping mosquitoes than I did sleeping. 

It was a moonless night, with patches of clouds overhead and stars peeking through the cracks.  Waves were tumbling onto the beach at low tide.  I walked barefoot – the wet sand felt nice under my feet, and I often rolled my toes into the sand.  We walked the beach up and down once and found fresh tracks from a turtle who had already come and gone.  On the second pass, we found new tracks leading up to the soft sand.  We all grouped up, then quietly walked up the tracks and found an Olive Ridley turtle laboring as she dug her nest.  All seven of us gathered around, creating a half-circle with the ocean to the opening.  It was so dark that I had to put my ear to the sand and look at her against the ocean to see her silhouette. 

   

For about an hour and a half we all sat there and watched as she dug her nest, laid her eggs and filled her nest again with sand.  Eventually, she scooted back to the water, and we all gave an applause when she made it.  I´m sure this turtle never imagined that she would have such an appreciative audience as she did what every female sea turtle strives to do! 

Walking on the beach at night was surreal.  The most amazing thing was that phosphorescent invertebrates were scattered through the wet sand, and at just about every step we took, one was disturbed enough to light up, creating a sort-of soft blue fairy trail.  After the turtle returned to the water, people trickled back to the cabins one-by-one, drawn by the thought of coffee and breakfast.  But I just couldn´t tear myself away, so I stayed and waited for the sun to rise, watching the colors change from black to gray to blue and to pinkish-orange before taking on the usual daylight hues.  I snapped dozens of pictures during the sunrise process, and managed this picture of our turtle´s tracks:  

Three Generations 16 PMpMon, 16 Jul 2007 18:22:59 +000022Monday 2007

Last Last week I had the pleasure of traveling around Costa Rica with my mom and grandma.  Over only eight days, we witnessed an erupting volcano, saw the sacred and beautiful avocado-eating Resplendent Quetzal, mozeyed over suspension bridges that were over 200-ft high, learned how delicious coffee is produced from the seed to the cup, survived the Costa Rican roads (there are crazy drivers here), learned some Spanish, ate home-made tortillas, relaxed on the beach and saw 100 species of animals including four species of monkeys, sloths, crocodiles, toucans, spiders, and the BANDED WREN. 

It was a wonderful eight days, and I can hardly think of a better way to spend my time!  It was also so cool to travel around with my mom and grandma, and many people commented on how nice it was to see three generations enjoying a vacation together. 

Thanks for visiting, you two! 

Night Work 16 PMpFri, 29 Jun 2007 21:14:46 +000014Friday 2007

Banded Wrens do a peculiar thing.  Like normal birds they build breeding nests in which to lay eggs and raise their young, but they also build sleeping nests.  Strangely, they seem to be the only birds in this dry forest that exhibit such behavior.  Why do they build these nests when all of the other birds around make do with the night environment as is?  That is a question that I still don’t know the answer to, but hopefully we’ll get a little closer to figuring that out.  Each bird can have up to five or six sleeping nests, and we have found both males and females roosting inside.  The nests are woven pockets of golden grass, usually perched precariously in delicate hanging vines and just big enough to accommodate a 20-gram bird. 

My time here over the last month has been filled with finding these nests, then revisiting them at night to capture any unsuspecting wren that might be sleeping inside.  We use aluminum foil to mark their locations, which serve as reflective beacons when relocating them at night.  Additionally, we take copious notes including landmarks, compass bearings and distances, but even with these we sometimes fail to find a nest after nightfall.  The forest takes on a whole different face at night.  Moonshadows are surprisingly confusing, and obvious landmarks during the day often become nothing more than a needle in a haystack after sundown.  Sounds are soft and continuous, punctuated by the occasional hoots of Pacific screech owls.  Night hawks forage from the roads, their eyes reflecting in our flashlight beams, often floating up and down as they sally to capture an insect in their cavernous mouths.  It is a surreal experience, this night work.  I often feel like I’m floating from location to location, but what makes it feel real are the frequent pricks of the mosquitos probing my skin, and the constant sweat on my brow as I hike through the tangled habitat. 

Once we catch a bird we immediately take a blood sample, then band it, measure it, weigh it, and finally return it to its nest.  Amazingly, many of them stay in their nests after we return them there.  It is pretty darn cute – just like putting them to bed.  Hopefully they wake up in the morning thinking that it was all a bad dream. 

Thanks to Charles for all of the photos!   

Tres Semanas 16 PMpSat, 23 Jun 2007 16:02:59 +000002Saturday 2007

 

It has been a long time since I have added anything to this blog, but I have a good excuse for that.  More than one good excuse, actually.  I feel like my life has been on fast-forward over the last three weeks. 

FIRST, we have moved to a new home base – our last move this season.  We are staying about 15-minutes south of Santa Rosa, just off the Pan-American Highway, in the pueblo of Irigaray.  This pueblo consists of a few restaurants and a cluster of houses along the highway, really.  No sign exists that merely mentions the place, and the only way I know we are here is that I noticed the dot on the map the other day.  We are staying at a tranquilo location owned by Eladio, a Costa Rican who embraces the Pura Vida (translation: Pure Life – Costa Rica´s motto) mentality more than any other I’ve ever met.  Great guy.  He has a beautiful cluster of houses, which include a barbeque pit and a pool!  Man, this is what I call field work!  If any of you out there are planning on visiting Costa Rica in the future, I highly recommend staying at Eladio’s place and hiring him for his services, which can include a kayak down a nearby river, a trip to the famous Playa Naranjo, or a full day of fishing in the nearby bay followed by a fish barbeque with plenty of Imperial beer. 

SECOND, we have been doing both morning and night work.  More on that coming soon.  But it means many days of 10 or 11-hrs in the field. 

THIRD, Charles is visiting!  He has been here for nearly 2 weeks already.  And that leads me to my FOURTH and most exciting point.  That would be the simultaneous engagement of Charles and I!  I say simultaneous because we both proposed to each other at the same time.  How could that happen, you ask?  Well, let me tell you:

I decided to propose to Charles, so I had an elaborate surprise planned for him.  My surprise included a hike up to the peak of the nearby volcano, Rincon de la Vieja, where I would propose, and then a relaxing stay at a luxurious lodge nearby to celebrate our togetherness. 

Our hike up to Rincon was beautiful, and we had the entire mountain to ourselves – not another soul out there.  The wind was scouring the mountain, and frequent gusts were making it difficult for us to stand.  At the top I pulled out a ring and popped the question to Charles.  In response, Charles fumbled around in his pockets a bit and said, “Well, let me ask YOU a question”, and he pulled out a ring for me!  I figured that was a solid “yes” to answer my question… 

Quebrada Grande 16 AMpTue, 29 May 2007 09:07:20 +000007Tuesday 2007

At the foot of Rincon de la Veija, a lazy old volcano that has bubbling mud pits, hot springs, and numerous steam vents, rests a little pueblo called Quebrada Grande (translation: Big Stream). About 400 people live here, and it is split into three neighborhoods. The village has a grade school, a central park, one church (in picture above), one bar, and a dozen little pulperias (small stores that sell necessities, often a part of a person’s house). The bar is one huge, cavernous room with perfectly polished floors, a very worn pool table, and an inconspicuous little bar tucked into the corner. It is set up more for dances than anything else – which they have about once a month here, and where men and women meet to salsa and meringue. The town is surrounded by farms, so it is common to see a horse with saddle roped to a fence post near a pulperia, waiting for the rider to return after picking up some local cheese. The climate is much cooler here and it rains daily – much more than it does a few hundred feet below, where we had been living.

For the last two weeks, we have been living in a dense neighborhood of this town called barrio del angel (translation: angel neighborhood). Here the houses are packed together, and all are more or less the same. Everybody has a small back yard, where neighborhood chickens roam, where roosters cock-a-doodle-doo throughout all hours of the day, and where the dogs seek out a patch of shade to cool off in. This barrio consists of two blocks and about 60 houses. On our street alone, there are at least five people who work for the same park where we do our research. One of these five is Lenin, the park guard who so graciously escorted us to the police station and waited with us for a long 4 ½ hours while we reported the robbery.

Our crew is growing today – Margaret will arrive this evening to join Selvino, Jen and I. There is barely enough room in this house for three of us, so we have been looking high and low for another place to live which is near the park, is big enough to accommodate four of us and is affordable. This is a tall order, since there are so few houses around the park. Our only option, after much searching, is located about 15-minutes south of the park entrance just off the Interamericana Highway. Today we will start moving there.

Although I will be happy to live in a place where we can all have a lot more space, I will miss Quebrada Grande, a village that I have enjoyed so much, with its welcoming community and small-town atmosphere. Although I might not miss the roosters crowing at 2am…

Transition 16 PMpMon, 21 May 2007 22:21:15 +000021Monday 2007

The habitat in lowland Northwestern Costa Rica is dominated by dry forest, which has distinct wet and dry seasons. During the wet season (roughly May thru October or November), insects are abundant. At the beginning of this period, one must get used to the simple fact that if in the forest at this time, caterpillar poo (known as frass) will rain on them. A sound similar to the “Snap, Crackle, Pop” of Rice Crispies, just after milk has been poured, resounds as frass falls from freshly chewed leaves to the ground below. Amphibians and reptiles are abundant, and mammals enjoy fruiting trees and plenty of prey to eat. And birds, well, they sing a lot, which is why we’re here.

At this moment, we are right at the beginning of the wet season. The dry season (roughly November thru April) is a time for animals to lay low and wait it out until next May. The leaves of most trees drop and everything turns a golden brown. Insects are scarce, and one can enjoy a mosquito-less environment, a true luxury. Leaves crunch underfoot. Small skinks foraging on the ground make so much noise that I often expect to see a white-tailed deer or a tapir instead. But these conditions are quickly fading away as rains come more frequently, as they have been over the last week.

Although they have been nesting for nearly a month now, the recent rains have finally pushed our study species, the banded wren, to start singing at full force. Starting at dawn, they belt out impressively loud songs for a 20-gram bird, and do so for a few hours, when their singing tails off and they concentrate on foraging or building nests. Now we can really get to work, and especially in light of the recent happenings, it feels good that our birds are getting all riled up.

The longest night 16 PMpSat, 19 May 2007 22:10:21 +000010Saturday 2007

The night of May 10^th was the longest night ever. I can say with confidence that it was the worst night of my life. Which is amazing, when I think about how many nights I’ve experienced – almost 10,000. Let me set the scene – while in the field for the last 4 years I have lived in a secluded house here in Costa Rica, about 0.5 km off the Interamericana highway (Costa Rica’s main thoroughfare). The house, referred to as Centeno, is owned by the park, has electricity and running water, but no phone or other means of communication. It is a beautiful location, very tranquil and surrounded by wilderness. Until that night, I had thought of it as a safe haven. Here is a brief break-down of what happened:

May 10th

8:00 pm – I heard strange noises, branches cracking, men talking. Thought it was my imagination, or animals, or something else.

8:30 pm – Sandy, the only other individual with me at Centeno, went to bed.

9:00 pm – I realized that there were definitely people outside our house, but that they were surrounding us, and that we couldn’t get away at that point. I hoped that they would just take our stuff outside and leave.

10:00 pm – I decide to turn the lights off and go to bed, even though there were still noises outside. I left my clothes on, clutched my little flashlight and decided that I could use my drinking glass as a projectile weapon if need be.

10:20 pm – A loud BANG at the door – they are trying to break in! Adrenaline takes over and I turn on all of the lights, scream, wake Sandy and bang the inside of the door to try and scare them off. I hear footsteps scuttle away, and hope that they have left.

10:25 pm – They come back to the door. I can see their feet in the small space under it.

10:27 pm – They knock on the door and ask us to open it. Yeah right!

10:28 pm – Realizing that we weren’t just going to open the door, they try to knock it in. Sandy and I hold it closed.

10:29 pm – They realize that they can just break through the window. I pick up a mist net pole with a pointy end and start jabbing it in their direction, but then I see a gun pointed right at me. I drop my weapon, they blindfold us, tie our hands behind our backs, and put us in a small room.

10:30 to 11:10 pm – They take many things, often asking where our cash is, where the computers are, etc. I plead with them not to hurt us, and ask that they just take our things and leave.

11:10 pm – They leave, after telling us not to move for 2 hours and tying the door to our room shut.

11:20 pm – Sandy works her hands free and unties me. Then we just sit there, shocked and not knowing what to do with ourselves

11:45 pm – We work up the courage to try and get out of the room. After a few minutes, we manage.

May 11th

12:00 am – Start assessing what has been stolen. Meanwhile, I am hungrier and thirstier than ever – the adrenaline surge boosted my metabolism, and I drink glass after glass of water.

12:30 am– Compile a list of what they took, then sit and stare into space for a while longer.

1:00 am – Devise a plan for getting help at first light.

1:30 am – Decide that we will try and sleep, but neither of us manages a wink of it.

4:00 am – I get out of bed and watch the sun rise from in the house. I first watch the shapes emerge from the blackness, then the colors.

5:00 am – Sandy and I open the door to the outside, walk around, see what they took from the outside and what they didn’t.

5:10 am – Eat a small breakfast. Pump up the bike tires.

5:20 am – Ride the bike into the park (about 10 km), and feel renewed. The birds are all singing, the air is still cool, and I am alive and well!

After 5:30 am – I make it to the Comedor and get help. A park employee drives me back to Centeno, where we pick up Sandy.

7:00 am – Go to Poco Sol, where the park guards are stationed. Many questions.

9:00 am – A park guard takes us to the police station in Liberia.

9:30 am to 1:30 pm – We tell our stories at least 3 times to 3 different people. We’re both dead tired. We look at a line-up of suspects, but neither of us recognizes any as the burglars.

The story goes on from there, but I won’t bore you with the little details. In the end, I feel very lucky that neither Sandy nor I were hurt, and that only our things were taken. They took mostly small portable electronics and equipment, as they were on foot. Among other things, they took my deodorant – my bamboo-scented deodorant for women only. Two whole sticks of it. They did stink, so have at it boys.

The park employees have all been sympathetic and helpful. None of them would like to see anybody go through this, and they have done everything that they can to help us. I have a new respect for the locals here and what they do to keep this place safe and running. Also, so many people back home have made it possible to go on. Thanks to everybody for being there for me!

Now, we have moved out of Centeno and have found a cute little house in Quebrada Grande, a village nearby. More on that coming soon…

Tamandua duo 16 PMpTue, 08 May 2007 17:26:52 +000026Tuesday 2007

About a week ago, I had a blockbuster day while following a particular banded wren (more on that later). Honestly, I didn’t do much following and I did a whole lot of gawking as I witnessed such good glimpses of animals that aren’t often easy to see, all within 10 minutes. Two highlights were a male mantled howler monkey actually moving (they are usually lethargic, resting high in a tree – which is why many field guides describe them as being “depressed”), and a coatimundi moseying across the park road. But the most exciting sight was a female tamandua, an anteater related to sloths, toting a half-sized juvenile on her back. These animals look both sophisticated and silly at the same time – sophisticated because of the black vest that they wear in their coat of fur, and silly because of their long snout specialized for raiding termite nests. When they’re alarmed they will climb up a tree, but it is said that they have a short-term memory of disturbance and will soon climb down – which is exactly what happened while I was following the pair, and when I got the shot above.

What more could a frog want? 16 PMpMon, 30 Apr 2007 15:59:33 +000059Monday 2007

Wildlife is abundant in Parque Nacional Santa Rosa, and it penetrates everything, including the house where we live. Scorpions take up residence in the dark corners of our house, army ants regularly pass through and once the rains start, frogs of all types can be found (or more often heard) around the perimeter. However, during the dry season, some resident frogs are desperate for water, and four such frogs have found my bathroom. They are milk frogs (of the genus Phrynohyas), so named for the sticky mucous that they secrete which is difficult to wash off of one´s skin.

I imagine that the bathroom to them is what the Ritz Carlton is to us. In their posh residence they enjoy the luxury of water year round. I often find them wallowing in a film of water on my shower floor. One particularly lazy individual just uses his suction-cup feet to stick to the shower tiles, often in the perfect position to be rained upon by fresh shower sprinkles. As he hears me turning the shower on, he often opens his eyes no more than a crack, and may reposition himself a bit so that he´ll be in the most advantageous position. More surprisingly, they treat the toilet like their own personal swimming pool, and sometimes they have parties where up to three will be lounging inside. Piña colada, anybody? But most amusing is when, in the middle of the night, a male wiggles his way down the shower drain and into the pipes and choruses. The acoustics are perfect, as he sounds as if he were 10 times the size! Ladies, beware – this is a man´s man of the milk frog world.

Blackout 16 PMpFri, 27 Apr 2007 18:01:34 +000001Friday 2007

It seems that Costa Rica is going through some rough times at the moment. Much of the country uses hydroelectric energy which is generated by Lake Arenal, a beautiful body of water that is popular with windsurfers, and which is nestled at the base of an active volcano. Now, at the tail end of the dry season, there is not enough water in the lake to generate a sufficient amount of electricity to power the country. Therefore, we have had blackouts, both scheduled and unscheduled. Last night during an unscheduled blackout, we had little choice but to be entertained by all of the bugs that were attracted to our computer screen (which was running on battery power)!