First Night in the Field

Contrary to my first opinion, the field (particularly in the forest) can be a noisy place, full of unique sounds and experiences which can be quite strange on your first time. A regular day in the field, depending on where you are, can start in the morning with the calls of Little Chacalacas (Ortalis motmot, colloquially referred to Annakwa) or Red Howler Monkeys (Alouatta seniculus). They are soon replaced by Screaming Pihas, whose name accurately describes the only thing they do all day. Surprisingly, these birds are in fact quite dull and cryptic, though, you always know they're there.

(the sound of the Red Howler Monkeys)

This is a recording of the call of the Little Chacalca

(from: Xeno-Canto)

As day shifts to night, the wildlife slowly calms and the natural sounds are replaced by the low hum of the generator in the background and the shuffling of teams returning to camp. This is the sound of science, and is accompanied by those hard at work processing samples or specimens and making notes. Eventually, the rigors of the day finally wear everyone down, and soon, they're off to bed.

On my first night, I was settled in my hammock and ready to sleep, when the generator was turned off and the camp was pitched into darkness. I found myself completely alone, and very terrified. The worst was the silence. With an active imagination, in the darkness, the sound of a falling leaf could be the soft footfalls of a jaguar with its eyes on you as a fresh meal. In my mind, nature itself was all out there to kill me. It wasn't long before I was overtaken with sleep, and I reasoned that if anything wanted me that badly, staying awake wasn't going to do much to dissuade it; the prospect of waking up at 5 am with little sleep was far more terrifying. 

For the rest of nights I was always way too tired to even bother with any stalking jaguars. As I got more accustomed to the forest, I became more comfortable with it, and fear soon gave way to curiosity. Wildlife, was in fact probably the least dangerous thing about fieldwork. As I would soon come to learn, wildlife was, in fact, probably one of the rarer things to see in the field. This, though, is what makes any encounter a great experience.

Arrival

After a few hours of driving, we turned into a small opening in the forest at the side of the road. The smooth asphalt gave way to a dirt road which ran through a savanna, with dry forest in the distance. Soon we came upon a small camp that would be our home for the next week.

(view of the camp from the creek)

Our camp this time around was a small farm on the edge of the forest and savanna. There was no bath or beds, or toiletries for that matter. Instead, we bathed, washed and got our water from the flowing black water creek at the base of a small incline. For the toilet we had a small shovel, a cutlass, and a light, which was an experience by itself. We were a few miles from an Amerindian village called St. Cuthbert's mission. The village was small, though, and we only knew it was there from the faint glow off in the distance at night. The owner of the farm and his family were our hosts. His wife and daughter cooked for us, while he was our guide. This was his land, and he knew it like the back of his hand.

(the creek)

We spent the rest of the afternoon getting the equipment off the bus and setting up the camp. This consisted mostly of Leram and I asking for help and watching them put up the tarps. We managed with our own hammocks, until we found out that we'd set them up badly and would have to put them up again. Needles to say, a lot was learned that day. Eventually, we got everything set up in time for dinner, and then after a bit, were off to bed.

(our final hammock setup)

Preparations

This week's post comes a bit late as a result of an overdue exam I had earlier today. Apologies for the wait, and thanks for reading!


After a week, the first two students returned. They brought stories, photos, and a few scars. It would still be two more weeks before we headed out, but we were almost ready to go. First, we had to deal with the daunting task of gathering equipment and packing.

Packing is a skill gained with experience, and most definitely not my favourite part of travelling. I plan on writing about packing and my experiences and recommendations, but later on, describing another run in with the heinous task. Over time, though, I've gotten a fair idea of what gear I need for field work from trial and error. Most of that error, I gathered on this trip.

My biggest worry at the time was not having enough. When I got there, I slowly realized that I had too many of the things I didn't need, and none of the things I actually did. I had a headlamp which broke in a few days, a water bottle which held only enough water to last me two hours, and snacks which would last me only half a day. It wasn't all bad, though. I did make a few good purchases from the little money I had. The hiking boots I currently use in the field have been my companions since then. Once a piece of gear has proven itself worthy, it becomes like a good friend, never leaving my side. The more worn it gets, the more personality it acquires.

Eventually, I received the email to say that Lainy and Willow had come back from their last trip and were ready to leave with us in a few days. If I remember correctly, it was on the 12th of March that I stepped out of the car and into the guest house where the scientists were staying. After brief re-introductions, Leram (the student I was paired with) and I helped them load the top and inside of the bus with an unbelievable amount of gear. Even though it didn't seem like it, as Willow proudly told us, they used every single thing we carried. We wondered how they managed on their own.

On the bus we learned that the girls had somehow 'forgotten' to tell us that the creek had risen during their stay. This forced them to take down and relocate their hammocks in the middle of a storm, in the early hours of the morning. At this point, it was a bit too late to turn around, although, neither of us had any intentions of ever doing that.