Mysterious, magical and ancient are
a few of the words that came to my mind while perched in a tree
over 100 feet above a clear running stream. All around us the cloud
forest canopy came alive, swaying in and out of focus as it was
swallowed up in swirling mists and cloud. For those of you who
know me, a starting paragraph like that is certain to segway into
a story. So in keeping with the tradition....
After guiding a student trip to Costa Rica in October, My new friend, and newer
colleague, Susan Cutting (see going global) and I decided to spend four days
together camping and exploring the steep mountainous slopes of the Rincon volcano
near the Nicaraguan border. Bubbling mud pools, steaming waters and rainbows
of painted clay created an enchanted picture within this ancient forest. For
hours we would silently slip through the greenery in search of birds, jaguars,
monkeys and vipers. Certain areas of the forest seemed to favor the growth of
short palms in which the palm viper resides. Susan was leading the way, slithering
in between the dense thickets. That is until I decided to name the place "viperville".
She relinquished the lead with a smile and a kind gesture for me to proceed,
justifying her actions by noting I had the machete.
We had been hiking for sometime along a well worn trail when suddenly we both
felt a strong urge to break off and bushwack into the wilds of the jungle. Within
minutes we had discovered the treasures that lay in wait. A huge strangler fig
(Ficus Moraceae) stood at the edge of a ravine and begged to be climbed.
Starting as a seed deposited high in the canopy by bird or mammal, the tiny plant
sends out delicate tendrills to clutch the tree. Initially an epiphyte, they
grow downward to the forest floor in search of soil. Hundreds of clsaping roots
reach out, wrapping themselves around their host. Once they reach the ground
and root themselves they send life upwards to the canopy, covering the crown
of their host with a leathal, dense monolayer of evergreen leaves. Though they
are generically termed "strangler figs" they do not strangle the tree
to death, but kill it slowly by shutting out the already scarce sunlight. The
host tree often rots away leaving a hollow, lace like shell supporting a massive,
convoluted tree.
Not wanting to break the silence in which we had been walking for hours, I gestured
to her with a playful raising of an eyebrow, squeezing my way into the heart
of this beauty, and began climbing skyward. She fell in behind. Branches weaving
in and around each other in a perfect, hollow cylinder made climbing easy and
the route choices endless. After 50 feet or so of climbing, the tube became constricted,
requiring an exit move out of the wooden womb. Finding a small porthole just
large enough for us to squeeze through, we emerged into a vast sea of green.
We were now perched high in the canopy, home to over 85% of all rain forest life.
Massive limbs reached out 100 feet in all directions, creating a highway for
monkeys, birds and other beasts. A light mist added a mysterious feeling to the
moment. Eventually the mist gave way to heavy rain and we had to retreat. It
was truely a magical moment.
The mood of the rain forest can also be quite humourous as we were to see on
one of our hikes. It had already been a full day of toucans, tarantulas and torrential
rains when we came to a small open area hemmened in by bamboo and fallen trees.
Tracks of the noisy and sometimes agressive collared Peccary (Tayassu tajacu)
were everywhere around us. A perfect spot to sit and wait for jaguars. As we
approached the site we heard an eery, cat like sound coming up from the valley
below. We crept forward, stealthy and silent. With eyes peeled and senses alert
we headed toward the sound. Was it a Jaguar or mountain lion?
There is a certain response within the human body that starts a chemical reaction
when one is in a position of being prey instead of predator. Though Jaguar attacks
are unheard of in Costa Rica, it is a humbling feeling when you are suddenly
on the sharp end of the food chain. The "flight or fight" reaction
stirs up the adrenaline and sets hair on end. Like in a bad horror movie, we
continued forward.
Suddenly there is movement straight ahead and a black shadowy figure moves like
a ghost though the understory. Susan points excitedly and whispering, describes
what she saw. "It was a long, sleek mammal with black fur and a long tail" I
whispered "Jaguarundi (felis yagouaroundi) a small cat of the jungle".
Seconds later I saw the creature myself. It was not a Jaguarundi but a White
Lipped Coatimundi (narsua narica) a mammal that looks like a cross between a
raccoon and an anteater. One scurried by, then another, then three more. They
headed up into the trees to forage playfully with a dozen or more of their brothers
and sisters. They had not seen us. It was when we approached within 30 feet of
them that the comedy began. I could hardly believe my eyes.
A coati had spotted us and sounded the alarm. Instead of fleeing up into the
upper reaches of the tree as expected, it bailed out. This Coati did a true to
form belly flopper from thirty feet up. It hit the ground with a loud thud, shook
it off and hit the trail running. Well, that started a trend. Another one came
crashing through the branches and hit like a sack of potatoes. At that point
so many Coati's were doing the Peter Pan thing that we litterally covered our
heads and ducked for cover. I burst out laughing, breaking the silence Susan
and I had been observing all day. How these little guys could hit the ground
so hard and still breathe was beyond me. I had never heard of Coati's in such
large groups and I certainly have not heard of them doing three story swan dives
out of trees. I chucked for hours after as we left them to do the things Coatis
do.
Miracles in the Sand
October brought plenty of much needed rain to Costa Rica but on the north east
coast of Tortuguero where they can recieve over 7000mm of rain a year, we were
somehow blessed with hot and sunny days. As a side trip after our Global Classroom
adventures, Susan and myself, along with high school students Tovah Kinderleher
and Erin leif took a 50 mile boat ride up the canals, rivers and other waterways
of the caribbean coast. to Tortuguero National Park to witness the nesting and
hatching of the Green turtles (Chelonia mydas).
The boat ride in itself is an adventure, the day packed with dozens of species
of birds, a three toed sloth and a few types of monkey. (we even had a 5 foot
long aligator like Caiman thrown in for free) Bright pink Roseate spoonbills
waded along the shore on spindle legs, sweeping their spatula shaped beaks back
and forth under the murky water, stomping around with their feet, stirring up
small fishes, insects and other morsals of food.
Arriving at the park in the afternoon, we re-adjusted our land lubber legs and
took a stroll down the black sand beach. Every fifty feet or so there would be
huge tracks in the sand like a bulldozer had emerged from the rolling sea. These
are the tell tale signs that the Green Turtles have arrived once again.
Nesting season begins in June and goes through to late October with the majority
of the nesting activity taking place in August. A female may come to shore to
lay eggs from one to seven times during her season with the average being two
to three times. It seems Green turtles always return to their birth place to
lay their eggs,, sometimes within feet of their own nest site. Of over 20 thousand
turtles tagged in Tortuguero, none has ever been recorded nesting on any other
beach.
After a nice dinner of rice and beans (a welcome break from beans and rice) we
meet with our guide Ernesto, who will take us onto the beach in the cover of
darkness to see the turtles lay. Words cannot describe what it is like to witness
the miracle of these giants emerging from the surf, laboriously crawling up the
beach and digging a pit four feet around and three feet deep. Huge flippers displace
sand and throw it as much as twenty feet. Once the pit has reached the appropriate
depth she begins scooping out the nest chamber. With her rear flippers cupped
like a ladle, she expertly exscavates a hole about eight inches round and a foot
deep. Head outstretched, eyes tearing and breathing heavy from the hard work,
she begins to lay her clutch of eggs. She will deposit up to 150 golf ball sized
eggs in the chamber. Then, very carefully she will cover it over with sand, gently
packing it in place.
Now she works at the art of deception. She will once again use her huge front
flippers, tossing sand back behind her to cover the nest. As she does this she
moves slowly forward until she has effectively covered over the nest and has
now created another pit four to six feet away from the original. This will help
deter predators from digging in the right spot in search of a meal. The whole
proccess taking up to three hours, she will finally return to the sea to rest
for a few days before returning to do it all over again.
The following morning we took a stroll along the beach with Ernesto. It was only
9am but the sun was already scorching the sand. Walking like a man with a mission,
Ernesto headed south at a quick pace. We had not gone 100 meters before he stopped,
pawed at an imaginary sign in the sand and up popped a tiny head. Digging a pit
parallel to the nest, he unearthed the little turtles and handed them to us.
Dozens spilled forth into the hot sun.. His voice took on a very serious tone
as he told us to quickly run with them to the waters edge. The four of us ran
back and forth with hands full of writhing, squirming flippers. Sometimes there
were so many we had to use our shirts as makeshift baskets. We placed them on
the beach, and like little wind up toys they flopped their way into the water.
With the blazing sun, predatory birds and mammals, not to mention the vast ocean
of fishes and other opportunists, less than 1% of these little gems will make
it to adulthood. The thought of one of these nestlings no bigger than a silver
dollar coming back to this very spot the size of a coffee table stretches my
mind really far. the fact that she could be doing it years after I am dead and
gone really makes me think.
Out of neccessity, our guide Ernesto once hunted the 400 pound giants and harvested
the eggs for food. Now he guides tourists nightly, walks the beaches looking
for poachers and is able to make a decent salary. It is a comforting feeling
to know that Eco-tourism can work at educating people, create wages for local
people and instilling in them the desire to protect these ancient creatures.
It is estimated over 25,000 turtles are poached each year along Costa Rican beaches.
Sea turtles will only nest on beaches where artificail light cannot be seen at
night. Tortuguero is one of the few areas left in the world where this is possible.
Being accessable only by small boat, Tortuguero has been a safe haven for many
species. Since 1996 a road has been pushed through much of the old growth forests
running along the coast toward Tortuguero. Like Chameleons,, multi-national corporations
have disguised themselves in the thick of all this very well. They have distanced
themselves from the illegal cutting through middlemen so well that protesting
by the local people has proven futile.
The rivers are now choked in silt, thousands of acres have been logged and the
end seems no where in site. Once cleared, banana growers seal the fate of these
ravaged lands. Banana plantations have become the largest threat to Costa Rican
rain forests and waterways. After each heavy rain the rivers run thick with thousands
of dead fish being killed by agricultural run off. As many as 38% of the plantation
workers are sterile from pesticides and fungicides and the plastic used to wrap
each bunch of bananas as they grow are allowed to drift out to sea where turtles
mistaken them for jellyfish and choke to death. Many of the locals and other
environmentalists believe the Dole Corporation is financing the clear cutting
and road construction. Please consider boycotting bananas from Dole or make a
request that your local grocer offer organic. You can make a difference.
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