Nicablogua

Hold the phone

2007-09-05T08:43:00.003-06:00

Slight change of plans. The application I was using to create "Almost PhD" destroyed my blog, so I've returned to Blogspot. I've picked up the pieces and started over at the following address: http://almost-phd.ragfield.com/. The website I gave you in the last post will re-direct you there, so you should be able to find it with no trouble. Thanks for reading!

Farewell of Nicablogua

2007-08-31T22:19:00.002-06:00

When I began this so long ago, I had no idea what all would take place within these pages. There were so many unknowns, and I wasn’t sure if I would be able to handle everything that came my way. It is hard for me to believe that it is finally over—after years of planning and grant-writing, after 1285 hours in the forest watching the monkeys, after episodes of Vortex and loneliness, after meeting people from all over the world who I will remember forever. I still wake up in the night not knowing where I am and wondering why I do not hear frogs or roosters or barking dogs or the lapping of the lake. In many ways I feel like a stranger or visitor here, and that maybe when I blink, the buildings and walls will fade away and I will be in the forest again.

The blog has been such an important part of the whole thing. Staying connected with everyone back home was crucial for maintaining my sanity during the long hours of doubt and mosquitoes. I don’t know if I can adequately express how much it helped me to write about everything that happened, and then to receive such an outpouring of support and encouragement from people (some of whom I’ve never even met) who read the things I had to say. The next adventure I am about to embark upon—putting all of this data into a dissertation—will in many ways be more difficult than the first. If I am able to make it all the way through, to that golden PhD at the end of the tunnel, it will be because of all of you, who shared the journey with me.

I’ve always written, it is like second nature to me. After so many months of pouring my heart and soul into Nicablogua, it might be too much shock to my system to give it up all at once. Plus, all the comments and emails I got from people who encouraged me to keep writing, made me feel inspired to give it a try. So I am going to continue; at least, I am going to try to continue as long as I have something to say and the time to say it. I thought it would be wise to end Nicablogua here though; this blog has gotten me there and back, and it is time to move on to the next adventure. A million thank you’s to everyone who read the blog, and especially for all the comments, emails and general well-wishes that motivated me to do this project to the best of my abilities. If you would like to continue the journey, please visit the website for my new blog, Almost PhD. I plan to have it up and running at some point this weekend.

Again, thank you all so much for your support and encouragement over the past year. And as always, thanks for reading.

Decompressing

2007-08-28T08:55:00.000-06:00

On Friday I went into school and S.L. actually told me he thought I needed some time to decompress. This, coming from S.L.? He said he thought a vacation might do me some good. Unfortunately, I didn’t get this in writing, so he may deny it all later. But realistically I don’t think a vacation is in the cards for me right now. What I’d rather do is train for and run the Dallas White Rock Marathon in December :) We’ll see.

It seems to me that the time for this blog is coming to a close. Certain readers (including but not limited to my mom) have encouraged me to continue, and there is a big part of me that is addicted to this blogging thing and would like to keep going. Honestly though, the excitement of my daily adventures back in the US is going to be pale in comparison to life in the jungles of Nicaragua. So, if there are people out there reading this, what do you think? Would you continue to read if I kept going? Please let me know if you have an opinion, either way. Its time for me to make a decision.

Well, now that I’ve had a little time to gather my thoughts about this year-long, action-packed Nicaraguan adventure, I’ve compiled some final observations about the whole experience. What follows is a listing of some major points and nuggets of wisdom that I have been collecting throughout the year.

First, here’s the final count for number of ticks removed: 68

And now, the things I learned:

There’s always a way through barbed wire.
It will be better in the morning.
Hospitals are free, but bring your own toilet paper.
Wear socks to sleep.
You can’t be too careful with a load cell.
Always say I love you first.
Little ants bite the worst.
“I woke up and there was a tick on my eyeball.” (Melissa)
“The @#$%-ing rat bit me.” (Rob)
This is a nation of people who have a lot of phlegm.
You’d be surprised at how many things in the forest taste like garlic.
If you smell something gross in your room, look for a gecko in the doorjamb.
Those aren’t gunshots, its just the 4am fireworks.
“The rat has outsmarted me.” (Rob)
Barbed wire is just a suggestion. The rock wall, now that has meaning.
“I don’t know why they call them sandals, they’re not very good in sand.” (Rob).
A surprising amount of people say “Right on!”
Beware of Nicaraguan Death Cheese.
Avoid the big rocks with your front tire.
“Don’t make yourself sick on chismol.” (Melissa, to Rob)
Try oiling the columns and central thread.
“Oh God, we’ve finally caught what they all have.” (Melissa, to Rob, after he hacked up a bolus of phlegm).
“Ay, el hijo de Melissa me mordió!” (Daraysi, after being bitten by the baby monkey).
There are likely to be live bees in the honey jar and live ants in the sugar bowl.
If it can be built, it can be built out of concrete.
Always keep the Toughness Tester battery charged.
“I think Dalila just called me a blockhead.” (Melissa)
“Tienes muchas cosas bonitas.” (Eduardo).
“I am not welcome at TelePizza” (Alvaro).
“The squirrel just jumped on me” (Rob).
“Don’t make yourself sick on cabbage” (Melissa, to Rob).
Costa Rican dogs have thick necks.
“I’m so hungry I could eat at Papa John’s” (Rob)
Papa Johns: Mejor ingredientes, mejor pizza.
Always bring a pen with you when trying to cross the border.
Don’t try to cross the border on a Saturday afternoon in June.
“Thank goodness I brought my traveling spoon.” (Melissa)
“At least the muffins got done and nobody got hurt.” (Melissa’s mom. Actually this has nothing to do with Nicaragua, but I thought it was really funny).
Nicaraguans are a bracelet-loving people.
“Chicho is soaking wet because of you” (Rob, when Chicho went to get lettuce for me in the rain).
Be sure to check your salad for tiny snails.
“That’s the second time there’s been a snail in my salad” (Melissa).
“That thing is not going to live in our room.” (Rob, when I wanted to keep a pet snail. That I had found in my salad).
“I ran into a baby cow.” (Rob, after returning from a bike ride around the entire island).
“Jesús wasn’t at home, so I left a note under an avocado pit on the table outside his house” (Melissa).
“My God, I never thought in my entire life that I would be so desperate for M&M’s” (Rob).
“Dang, I should not have drank the tap water,” (Melissa).

Thanks for reading. Let me know if you’d be interested in reading the non-Nicaraguan adventures of an almost-PhD grad student who may be attempting to train for marathon #6.

Breaking the ice

2007-08-21T23:04:00.000-06:00

I’ve had a fairly high level of anxiety about getting back into the swing of things again and meeting with my advisor, S.L., for the first time. I went over to school yesterday and was greeted by the sight of his closed office door; the secretaries told me he was out at meetings. So I was off the hook, for the moment at least. Some other people were around, so I started to catch up with friends/co-workers I hadn’t seen in a year.

Then yesterday evening I went running—feeling all doughy and lethargic from more than a year without serious training. I left the house and headed towards the park, just hoping that I wouldn’t see anyone I knew in my saddened state. I hadn’t even gone a mile when a cyclist on the other side of the road called out, “Melissa!” I had no idea who it was. As the cyclist crossed over to meet me, I realized that it was none other than S.L. I’d forgotten—he has a garden plot over at the park and sometimes he heads over there on his way home from school. And so we met, in quite an unceremonious setting, but I suppose it was a good way to break the ice. In addition to the expected warning that I need to use my time wisely and crank out a good dissertation, he also offered me sweet corn from his garden (I declined, being that I was in the middle of a run). And Jodi, if you are reading, I did not get a hug, which under the circumstances was probably good, since we both had been exercising in the humidity.

I returned to school today and finally met briefly with S.L. in his office. I didn’t really have anything coherent to say to him, but somehow I managed to string together some of the high points of the research, and he seemed moderately impressed with my findings.

This evening Rob and I rode Big Red (that’s our tandem bike) over to the park for running club. It was really great to see so many familiar faces; I was even able to keep up with my buddy Norm just like the good old days. Rob actually did the run as well. Chronic knee problems have kept him sidelined for the most part since 2004, but for some reason he felt like giving it another try tonight. He promised to take it easy and run on the grass rather than the concrete sidewalk. He must have felt good because he sped up towards the end, and I wasn’t about to let him take off alone. We finished the 3-mile loop together, ending with an 8-minute mile, which under the circumstances, was fast for both of us. So far his knee is fine; hopefully he will say the same thing in the morning.

After the run and more chatting with old friends, we rode home on Big Red and had a dinner of vegetarian chili. I must say that I did pretty well making it; I guess cooking is like riding a bike—even after a year without cooking at all, it comes right back to you once its time to start again.

I know its not about Nicaragua anymore, but for some reason, I still keep blogging. Thanks for reading.

Oh, and David, if you’re reading, happy birthday.

Return to La-La Land

2007-08-17T12:56:00.000-06:00

Welcome back to the USA: Where a good buy on mangoes is a dollar a piece

Towards the end of our time on Ometepe, I was faced with the realization that I would soon be returning to a world of cars and bills and deadlines and grocery shopping and so many things that I had been glad to leave behind. I told Rob that I felt, in a way, living on Ometepe for a year had been like running away from the real world. He said it was probably actually the other way around, and the more I thought about it, that’s right. The Third World is the real world. The US is like la-la land. Living there, you don’t see what really goes on—how the rest of the world lives every day. That way, its easy to ignore.

So we got back to La-La Land and are trying to get moved in to our new place. Most of our stuff is here by now, its just all kind of sitting in the middle of the floor in various boxes and bins, so its going to take a while to get settled in. My friends and family have been so amazingly helpful during this whole process: providing vehicles, lifting heavy objects, cleaning out cabinets and mopping floors, cooking dinner for us, and making sure that our refrigerator is well stocked with soymilk. Rob’s parents and my parents were both here to help, and as a surprise, my Auntie drove down with my Grandma, just for a little visit. It does seem that everyone was really eager to have us back, and that is a good feeling.

For the first couple of days we kept the air conditioning off. In some way, it was strangely comforting to be hot and sweating all the time, like a little bit of Nicaragua was still with me. And because it was so hot, I still took cold showers. You know, it would have been too much to leap into all the ridiculous creature comforts of La-La Land all at once. But then Rob got frustrated with the heat and turned on the AC, despite my objections. Nicaragua is starting to slip away from me. At first, I tried to imagine what Eduardo would say or think about all these US things, like our house, the grocery store, etc. I thought of how Leda (the woman who does cleaning and washing) might react to seeing our washing machine—its the front loading kind where you can see the clothes spin round and round. But then it just got too overwhelming; its like a completely different planet here. Eduardo and the other people I knew in Ometepe would have no frame of reference. It’s a very unsettling feeling, really. To look around and see all this stuff but to close my eyes and still see volcanoes, Guanacaste trees, monkeys, and sunsets over Lake Nicaragua.

On my birthday, I had an email from Eduardo, wishing me a happy day. Joel must have helped him—he had included a photo of all the children standing around a poster they had decorated that said “Happy Birthday Melissa” in English. I sent a reply, thanking him for the photo and telling him we should continue to write. And he wrote back right away, saying (in Spanish), “I will wait for you one day, on Ometepe.”

Eduardo is in the yellow shirt

There are a lot of things to do around here, so I need to sign off for now. Thanks for reading.

Leaving the Land of Lakes and Volcanoes

2007-08-12T22:45:00.001-06:00

On Friday morning, Rob and I left Mérida—our home for the past year. Leda, Dina, Reyna, and Joel insisted on carrying our bags for us, and they stayed with us as we stood by the tienda waiting for the bus to Moyogalpa.

I’d just about given up hope that Eduardo was going to show up before we left, but then at 8:15 he came tearing down the road shouting, “Meli! Roberto!” It was like one of those scenes in the movies when two people are running towards each other with arms open wide; I caught him in a big hug. Eduardo joined the small party of people waiting with us, although it was pretty hard for him to keep sitting still (Eduardo is in perpetual motion). At one point he disappeared into the tienda and then came running back to me, instructing me to close my eyes and hold out my hands. Into my hand he placed a small container—of what I did not know—and he said it was a gift for me. That this child had wanted to spend his precious córdovas on something for me… it made my feebly mumbled thank you’s seem so pale in comparison. He explained that this item he had selected for me was ‘hair cream.” It smelled really nice and seemed to be across between gel and mousse. Bless his little heart. He promised me that he would write me an email (he now has an email address) so that it would be waiting for me when I got home. I told him to stay good, and he nodded. Grinning from ear to ear, he waved and said “Bye-bye,” then ran back down the road.

Then the bus came and we got all our stuff loaded; it was time to hug Joel and the girls one more time. We were all crying… well, all of us except for maybe Joel and Rob. With just one last tear-blurred look around the place, I got on the bus and waved out the window at Reyna, Leda, Dina and Joel until I couldn’t see them anymore.

I felt like I was in a daze for the whole 2-1/2 hour bus ride, and before I knew it we were on the ferry, watching Ometepe fade away into the distance. I knew Rob was much more ready to leave this place than I was. I just kept thinking about how Reyna’s voice sounded when she crying as she said good-bye and how Eduardo was… well… Eduardo, and how it made me immeasurably sad to even think about going one day without seeing him, let alone the possibility that it may end up being a lifetime.
In this haze, we somehow got ourselves and our luggage to Granada, and after checking into a hospedaje, we walked down to the dock to take our last look out at Lake Nicaragua. I was able to check my email from the hotel later in the afternoon, and I found that I did indeed have a message from Eduardo. In his little words, he asked me to not forget about him and wondered if maybe I could come and visit for his birthday next year (June 8th).
On Saturday afternoon we made our way to Managua, and then this morning—Sunday—we got up at 4am to catch our flight back home. It was about the smoothest trip I’ve ever had in the air. Before I knew it, we had left the Land of Lakes and Volcanoes and were back in the Chicago airport, eating Cinna-bon and hugging Rob’s parents.

It still hasn’t all sunk in yet. There is so much more to say, but I’m running on very little sleep and need to sign off for the moment. Thanks for reading.

Managua

2007-08-11T16:53:00.000-06:00

We’ve made it to Managua. Last night (Friday) we spent the night in Granada, and I was finally able to post the super-long blog I wrote about our farewell party on Ometepe. If you’ve already read that entry, check it again because I’ve added a few photos and even some video clips.

There’s so much more to say; the blog is not quite over yet. I’ll write some final thoughts about leaving the Land of Lakes and Volcanoes once we are home, and who knows—I’m so used to it by now that maybe I’ll just keep on blogging for a while.

The country under my skin

2007-08-10T00:18:00.001-06:00

Last summer before I came here, I read a book by the Nicaraguan poet/revolutionary Gioconda Belli called The Country Under My Skin. That’s how it is. Ever since the first time I came to Nicaragua more than 3-1/2 years ago. its been under my skin and that’s why I’ve kept coming back.

I’ve never been good at endings or leaving people and places, and this is no exception. There is too much going on in my mind now to write about all of it. I’ve been taking a lot of pictures of these things that are under my skin the last several days, so I’ll post some of them here.

Out by the dock here are Reyna, Leda, (me), and Doña Dina. Reyna and Dina work in the kitchen; Leda does cleaning and washing. Doña Dina was the lucky lady who I’ve passed my machete on to. Reyna had a baby (her 2nd daughter) just this past May.
I have never before been in a photo with 3 other adult women (who are not related to me) who are all the same size as me. As we giggled and looked at the photo of ourselves, I explained that in the US, everybody is taller that me, but in Nicaragua, I fit right in. Reyna said this meant that I am Nicaraguan and that I should stay. "No te vayas, Meli," she has been saying for several weeks now.

Here, by the kitchen is Doña Argentina, Daraysi, and Francisca (whom everybody calls “Chica”). Daraysi does bookkeeping, Argentina and Chica work in the kitchen.

This white dog is “Bravo”—a horrible, horrible dog who every night about 7pm goes crazy and starts violently chasing his tail. Bravo is actually going to be one of the things I do not miss about Ometepe.

This is a dog Rob and I named Scott Fargus, on a count of his yellow eyes (its from the movie A Christmas Story). At first I didn’t care for Scott Fargus too much (he would sometimes randomly just come into our room when the door was open), but eventually I warmed up to him and would give him treats and he became my pal.

Here is Albin (What a little heartbreaker! He is Argentina’s nephew), Joel (the English instructor), and Eduardo.

My special little guy

Eduardo was helping me pack and came across these sunglasses. He thought they were great, so I let him have them. He spent the rest of the day strutting around like hot stuff.

Towards the middle of the day, the staff here began decorating the common dining area with braided palm fronds and balloons. I also saw that a cake was being prepared in the kitchen. By dinnertime, the entire town of Mérida had showed up. I was glad to see Simeon, because I realized that I had never gotten a picture of him. Here is a photo of several of the volcano guides; Simeon is on the far right, wearing the yellow collared shirt.

Dinner was pretty much the usual, except for all the people milling around, but afterwards, Leda came to me and said they had prepared a surprise for us, but we needed to go back to our room and wait while they got it set up. So we went and we waited, talking with some kids, and finally Leda came back and got us.

Joel (the French-Canadian English instructor) acted as emcee and announced that the children of the town had practiced special dances for us and would be performing tonight. The first dancers were none other than my dear little Eduardo, Albin, Darling, and Augustina. It was a “reggeton” style dance to Nicaraguan hip-hop music. Eduardo looks cute jamming in his new shades.

The next dancers were little Helen and Darwing, performing a more traditional Nicarguan folk dance called “el sapo,” which was completely adorable.

The next were some girls I didn’t know, doing some kind of traditional dance that had been modernized to contemporary hip-hop style music. And yes, those are bandanas that they are wearing for tops. La Reyna’s little girl Laura (6 years old) also did a dance.

The next reggeton dancers took everybody by surprise. Tiny though they were, they could sure bust some powerful moves. What both amazed and disturbed me was how (and why!) clothes like that exist for such little girls. Rob figured out a way to post the video clips he took, so you can take a look at the dance; hopefully the material is not too objectionable for the blog.

But what was the most impressive and for me, meaningful, dance was the last one. Daraysi, who does bookkeeping and reception, performed a traditional folk dance with Yuri, another employee here. The two of them are cousins. I’ve seen Daraysi dance a lot of times at festivals and parties—she’s always decked out in flashy clothes and doing scandalous moves. I swear, every male tourist that has ever passed through here has wanted to take her home. And here she was, doing a traditional folk dance (so not her style!) for us before we left. I’d been weepy before, but this is the one that really started me crying.

When the dances were over, all the women staff members gathered around and had Joel tell us in English how much they would miss us and how Nicaragua would always be our home. Then they presented us each with a gift. For Rob, a wooden plaque with painted Nicaraguan memorabilia that has knobs on it so you can hang your keys from it. For me, a brown crocheted handbag with the word “Nicaragua” stitched in it. What beautiful gifts! What gets me the most about this is that people who have so little wanted to give something to us—who have so much. I have seen gifts like these at the artisan markets in Masaya—who knows how they came up with the money and sent somebody to the market to pick out lovely things for us. It makes me wish I could do something more for all of them, for this whole country, or that I had been doing something more for them the whole time I was here.

Then everybody gathered round and hugged us. I was a mess of crying and so was everybody else. Even Conny, usually so stoic and serious, had tears in her eyes. Over the last few weeks as our departure date has grown closer, so many times I’ve wondered what it would be like to leave everybody here. Most of the good-byes in my life have been so unceremonious. I figured Rob and I would just get our stuff together and go, without any pomp and circumstance. But here they threw a party for us, and gave us gifts, and cried, and told us to please come back as soon as we could.

Through tears, the girls went back to the kitchen and served up the cake they’d made. Dear little Eduardo was one of the first to get a piece, and he broke about half of it off to share with Rob and me. I didn’t want to take his cake, but how can you turn something that someone wants to give you out of the pure goodness of their heart? The cake was kind of like cornbread with raisins in it, and a lot of love.

We took a few more pictures after the cake had been eaten. Here is me with Leda:

This is Belkis, Augustina, and Darling

Daraysi and Conny:

Me with my special little guy:

And again, he looks sad this time though!

Eduardo’s mother Milena was among the townspeople who had come to the fiesta. I spoke with her for a bit, but mainly, I just forgot all my Spanish words while I was talking to her. I tried to tell her what a good little boy Eduardo is and that I hope someday to figure out a way to bring him to visit me in the US if he would like. She smiled so sweetly and said many things that I couldn’t understand because all I was thinking was how can I leave this place and these people when this country is so much under my skin?

Here is a photo of Eduardo and his mother;

I’ve stayed up half the night writing this so that I could post it before we leave Ometepe. Our plan is to make it to Granada today and then on Saturday head on to Managua. Our plane leaves at 6:00 Sunday morning, and we’ll be in Chicago by 4pm. It is finally starting to sink in that this is over. I never thought it was possible to feel sad and heartbroken yet happy at the same time. I’m trading one world for another. At home, there’s hot showers, cold drinking water, brownies, and a lifetime of friends and family. But where I’m returning to, there will be no monkeys, no volcanoes, no sunsets over the lake, and just about most importantly, no Eduardo. I think its going to take quite some time for me to readjust. I’ll try to post something when we get to Managua—thanks for reading.

The beginning of some endings

2007-08-06T20:10:00.000-06:00

Well, we’ve finally got power again, and I have a lot of catching up to do from the past several days.

Thursday (2 August) was my last day out with the North Group. It was an unfortunately wretched day because they were foraging in a nasty spider-infested thatch area, and also I was miserable with a sore throat and stuffy nose. The day ended with me losing my focal animal (Stacy’s mom) for the umpteenth time and finally just throwing in the towel and dragging myself home. I was actually really disappointed to end my North group data collection on such a sour note. I think a part of me expected all the monkeys to come down low in the trees and form a circle around me, singing me a song.

I felt so awful that I just couldn’t face the forest again on Friday. I tried to recover by sleeping in a little bit and then distributing bracelets to the few kids who actually showed up for English class (Eduardo not among them). The kids were so excited and immediately wanted me to teach them how to make the bracelets themselves. It seemed like a simple enough project, but it ended up being a bit more complicated, as I realized I didn’t know the Spanish words for things like “thread” and “knot.” I figured these out soon enough though. I felt like it was arts and crafts time at Meli’s summer camp. The kids all wanted to make patterns like I had on their bracelets, but they were too eager to actually pay attention to the basics, so we ended up with a big mess of tangled threads and knots. There were no complaints though. I think the girls were mainly excited that they got to look through the pretty colors of thread and make a bracelet for themselves, of their own choosing.

Bracelets I made for the kids (Eduardo later chose the one near the bottom, that has the yellow "fishes" on it).

Arts and crafts time at Meli's Summer Camp: Augustina, Darling, and Fátima make bracelets.

Sometime during the bracelet-making, the power went out. At first it didn’t seem like a big deal: the power usually goes out several times a day, but only for a few minutes and then its right back on again. Well, this time the power wasn’t coming back on. Several hours passed and still no power. By nightfall it was apparent that the power was not coming back on anytime soon. The cooks lit dozens of candles in the dining area, so it all seemed kind of dreamy.

Eduardo showed up at some point in the late afternoon and was busy making friends with all the tourists. (By the way, I let him choose his bracelet and he opted for one that was not pink!) By the time he decided to go, it was pitch black out, and he asked me if he could borrow my flashlight to ride his bike home. Eduardo is somewhat obsessed with this flashlight. He has asked me at least 100 times if I am going to sell this flashlight when I leave and if so, would I sell it to him. In fact, I strongly suspect that Eduardo is so nice and sweet to me simply because of the flashlight. His tactic is working though—there’s no way I’m going to “sell” him the flashlight; I’ll give it to him of course. He rides an adult-sized rusted out mountain bike that probably doesn’t even shift gears, and he is only half the size of an adult. Sometimes his mother sends him out for errands and it gets dark while he is still out on the bike. Then he has to ride home with no light over steep, rocky hills. The thought of this makes me unimaginably sad.

He promised to bring the flashlight back to me first thing in the morning, as early as 5am. I told him I really didn’t need it that early, so he said he would bring it back at 7. I handed him the flashlight, half expecting to never see it again. After a hot night with no power (that means no fan), I heard a little voice outside the door at 6:40 in the morning, “Meli!” There was Eduardo—flashlight in hand—with his hair all rumpled and his eyes all small and still wearing yesterday’s clothes. He’s as good as gold.

For our fun outing on Saturday, Rob and I went to go see some more petroglyphs, about halfway between San Ramon and Tichiná. This was another one of those things that was more about the journey than the destination. And like most things in Nicaragua, the journey (by bike of course) was nice, except for the parts when I thought I might die. The petroglyphs themselves were nice too. They were a bunch of rocks in somebody’s back yard, and for a $1 admission fee, a little boy took us out to go look at them. He wasn’t the talkative type, so after we felt that we got our dollar’s worth, we headed out.

The plan had also been to stop at the field station in San Ramon on the way home, so that we could bid farewell to chef Don Alberto. When we arrived we found that Alberto was at home in Estelí but was scheduled to return later in the day. So we just missed him. We also had brought along my copy of The Bean Trees by Barbara Kingsolver (my favorite book), and I left it at the field station for my new friend Liz—a student who is staying there while doing a project on howler monkeys. I’m leaving the rest of my books here for the tourists at the hostel, but this one was just too special; it needed to go to someone who I know will appreciate it.

When we got back to Mérida Saturday afternoon, the power was still out, and by this point it was anybody’s guess as to when it would be coming back on. On Friday when the power went out, Rob had seen the transformer smoking and then explode in a burst of flames. So not a good sign.

By Sunday (5 August), Rob and I needed to formulate a plan. We went to nearby Hotel Omaja (about 1/2 kilometer up the road), where they still had power and internet. It gave Rob a chance check his email and strike up a deal with the owner (a super tranquilo former-Nebraskan) so that he could use their internet and work from there on Monday. It also gave us a chance to have their superb (but expensive) vegetarian tacos.

Even with several days off, I was no more invigorated to return to the forest on Monday. In fact, I did not know how I was going to do it. I felt exactly like I had hit “the wall” in a marathon. Its that kind of panicked, freaking out hysteria when you need to stop running or you are convinced you will die. I’ve been viewing this whole research project as a marathon, counting down the months and giving myself check points such as “Now I would be at mile 19.” I realized that this is wrong. I reached mile 26.2 at the end of May, when the rains and the spiders returned. Since then the marathon has been over and I’ve just been going on fumes. By now I am done. I am beyond done. The thought of even one more day seriously seemed to push me over the edge. Plus, another power-less night with no fan and no cold water or cold fruits to take out to the forest made it even worse. Finally, I bargained with myself: instead of getting up at 4:20, I got up at 5:15. Just that little bit of extra sleep made it more bearable. And instead of continuing to work more days and gather precious data, I decided that this would be it. I would end the project here, just one more day.

It would have been nice to end the research on a high note, but the monkeys were in rare form today. A mysterious Arriba Group that usually lives higher up on the volcano has come down and invaded the South Group’s territory. So it was really confusing to make sense of what was going on and figure out if I was even observing a monkey from the correct group. Plus the dense foliage, the vines underfoot, and the spiders and mosquitoes everywhere. Late in the afternoon, I collected my final data point and blinked back tears as I put my binoculars back into my pack. With a deep breath, I headed down the volcano. From here on out, there won’t be any more new data; I’ve got to go with what I’ve already collected, for better or for worse. The fun part’s over; now I’ve got to organize this jumble of information into some sort of coherent thesis and return to the stifling academic world of statistics and books and articles. At least there will be less spiders to deal with.

So I headed down the volcano. As I was almost out of the forest, I heard a little sneeze and saw a patch of brown in a tree right along the path. The monkey was so low that I didn’t even need my binoculars to tell who it was. Wrinkle Belly. He was eating some unripe Capulín fruit, and as I was standing just below him, he hung by his tail to take a few bites of low-growing Piper leaves, barely 3 meters off the ground. He looked at me and hooted, like he wished I would move, but my presence wasn’t going to deter him from his meal. I stood there and watched him (and to be honest, I was crying a little bit), until finally he slunk off into the jungle and was no more than a rustling of leaves in treetops too far away to see. It was time to go home.

As I walked into the hacienda, I heard music coming from the radio and I saw lights on in the kitchen. Our power was back on! So these last few days will have the comfort of cold water to drink and a fan on in the nighttime. We will be leaving Ometepe on Friday morning and flying back to the US on Sunday. As long as the power and internet keep working, I will post a few more times before we go, so keep checking back. Thanks for reading!

No Power

2007-08-05T13:23:00.000-06:00

We haven't had power or internet since Friday and it may not be restored before we leave. Don't worry, we're fine, but we may be state-side before I am able to post again. I will do my best to update whenever I have a chance.

Thanks.

Pink

2007-08-01T18:47:00.000-06:00

Well, I have made it to August. All I can say is that it is good that the project will be over soon; I am ridiculously burned out and fed up with the jungle. Even after taking several days off, it was pure drudgery to get up at the crack of pre-dawn and follow the monkeys all day through rain, dense canopy, mosquitoes, spiders, etc.

Wrinkle Belly was my focal animal today—I tried to explain to him that I was going away soon, and that this would be the last time I would be following him all day long. But in typical Wrinkle Belly fashion, he did not appear to care one way or the other. He just went about his business, without seeming to care that our time together is about to come to a close. My burnout is so extreme that I didn’t even get too emotional about it; I just wanted the day to get over so that I could come home and lay down. I took a few pictures of him as a memento for the occasion; the photos aren’t great, but I did the best that I could.

Wrinkle Belly

Wrinkle Belly in his fave mango tree

Matilda with baby Toby, who is playing

Baby Toby on her mother's lap. I do not know where big brother Horace was today.

I left the forest a little earlier than usual because there was so much thunder that it sounded like the mountain was falling apart. It seemed for certain that I would get caught in a torrential downpour, so I told Wrinkle Belly thanks for the memories and scurried towards home. It never did rain too much though; just a few drops and then the storm moved on.

On my way home, I stopped by my little amigo’s house—the one who had run out and asked me for a bracelet a few days ago. I had promised him that the next time we saw each other, I’d have a bracelet for him. When I walked past, he was outside and I called out to him, telling him that I had made him a bracelet. He came tearing out to the road, grinning from ear to ear. I gave him the bracelet and he was beaming, telling me muchas gracias many times over. He ran back up to his house and a woman—could have been his sister or aunt or mother—came out. She held out her arm and he tied the bracelet to her wrist! After all of that, the bracelet wasn't even for himself! I could have cried. Well, maybe they’ll share it.

When I finally got back from the forest, Eduardo was here, which cheered me up despite my burnout from the jungle. We chatted for a little bit, and I asked him what color bracelet he would like me to make for him. He thought for just a minute and then smiled brightly. “Pink!” he exclaimed, in English. Pink. Alright then, pink it is.

That’s all for now; I’ve got to get myself together so that I can go to the forest again tomorrow and keep making those bracelets. Thanks for reading!

The Bracelet Lady

2007-07-29T10:45:00.000-06:00

Number of Ticks Removed: 68
Days Tick Free: 2

I thought about writing earlier in the week, but it would just have been more complaints about mosquitoes, spiders, eye infections, my aching neck and back, and my pre-dawn wake-up call. So I decided to wait until I had something more interesting, or at least more positive, to write about.

A while back I got this idea to make bracelets out in the forest to keep myself occupied while the monkeys were sleeping. Initially I thought I might sell them, then I thought I would bring them home to give to friends/family, but finally I decided that I would give this batch to the women who work in the kitchen here at the hostel. The other day one of the cooks was crying about a boy (it turns out that the Dunlap Love Story is universal), so I decided it was time to break out the bracelets in hopes of raising everybody’s spirits. The result was a resounding success. I have never encountered a more bracelet-loving people than the Nicaraguans. Forgotten were the tears over this problematic muchacho (who I'm sure is a jerk anyway) as everyone became fixated on the bracelets. Over the next few days, I doled out bracelets to the cooks working the different shifts, trying to make sure that I gave one to everybody. The bracelets were such a hit that a few days later, three of the cooks came and found me after dinner to ask if I had any more. They pretty much cleaned me out, but I was happy to give all these bracelets away because it was such a small thing that made them so happy. As more people surfaced, intrigued by my rapidly dwindling supply of bracelets, I kept telling them I could make more, just to tell me what colors they wanted. The resounding response was always that the color and even the design did not matter. “Lo que quieres, Meli,” or “Lo que tengas.” In other words, whatever you think is best, Melissa, or, whatever you have on hand.

Yesterday, as I was on my way home from a brief foray into the forest, a small child came running out of his house to meet me on the street and ask me if I had any more bracelets. I guess my reputation as the Bracelet Lady now precedes me. Unfortunately, I am fresh out of bracelets. I asked the little boy what colors he wanted, and he just shrugged, saying whatever I had would be fine. I have the feeling that giving a bracelet to this one little boy will open the floodgates, and every single child on the island will want one. With less than two weeks left now (!) I’m not sure that I’ll have enough time (or enough materials) to supply that many bracelets. I’m going to do my best though. So I guess I’d better get going; I have a lot of work ahead of me.

Thanks for reading.

A few more mangos

2007-07-22T09:01:00.000-06:00

It turns out that mango season wasn’t completely over; on Thursday night there was a big crate of mangos in the kitchen, so I had plenty to take out to the forest on Friday. As far as mangos are concerned, I’ll just take it a day at a time from now on.

My week out with the monkeys was interesting. I’d pretty much given up hope of finding a North Group juvenile for the second half of this month, but then on Thursday morning, there was young Horace, low along the North forest patch. As I was walking up the path, I heard a little sneeze (the monkeys actually sneeze a lot), and I thought to myself, “That sounds like Horace.” After 11 months of watching them, I guess have now even developed the ability to distinguish the sound of their sneezes, because sure enough, it was Horace. Bless his little heart. I know it is not on purpose or anything, but on numerous occasions when the monkeys are making a big move (such as to the far away mango patch), I swear that Horace waits for me in some place obvious so that I find him and follow the group to their new location. That’s what he did on Thursday; they didn’t really move all that far, but it was in a place that they have only used once or twice before and there are no paths back there, so I wouldn’t have found them if I was just looking on my own. It was very sweet to watch Horace all day because he stayed close to his mom, Matilda, and to his new baby sibling (who it turns out is probably a girl), Toby. I’m hoping that Horace, Matilda, and Toby turn out to be the key to understanding some of these pre-adult mortality issues. If my calculations are correct, there has been a 67% infant/juvenile mortality rate in the North Group these past 11 months. Horace has got to be around 2 years old, so he’s made it past 2 of the critical stages when I’ve noticed others dying off (6-7 months, when they are no longer allowed to travel on their mom’s back, and around 12 months when mom refuses to nurse them any longer). I’m wondering if Matilda is doing something right, because Horace survived and now she’s got Toby. What I find so fascinating is that even though Horace was starting to get pretty independent, after Toby was born, he returned to Matilda and now spends most of his time sitting by her side. I suspect that Horace’s presence might be beneficial to Toby: all other members of the group are infinitely fascinated with newborns and they are constantly trying to touch or smell or even grab the baby and run away. This can get kind of rough at times, so a new mom definitely has her work cut out for her, trying to keep the others away from the baby. This is a bit of a conjecture, but it seems to me that Horace might be “helping” his mom out in this respect by offering additional protection to Toby during these early crucial months. Unfortunately, I won’t be here too much longer to see if Toby makes it, so we’ll have to see if I can actually make these claims from the data I’ve got.

Horace

Horace eating Acacia

At any rate, I was glad when the week was finally over and I could finally get some respite from the hundreds of thousands of spiders and millions of billions of mosquitoes—not to mention the sometimes torrential downpours—out in the forest. On Saturday Rob and I decided to bike to Altagracia (17 km away) to go to the Museo Ometepe. Rob bikes to Altagracia all the time, but this is the first time I’ve ridden there. The distance doesn’t faze me so much, its just the treachery of the road I don’t like. Even though the road has been “fixed” somewhat, there are still places where your life flashes before your eyes. All in all, the ride over and back turned out to be pretty great, except for the times that I thought I was going to die (which was really only 2 or 3 times). The museum itself was not all that impressive, but again, the trip over there was more about the journey than the destination. There were a few interesting maps to look at, a couple of murals, some stuffed animals (as in taxidermy, not the cute kind), and some undated potsherds from some point in Ometepe’s archaeological past. While in Altagracia (a fairly bustling metropolis compared to our place on the more sparsely populated Maderas side), Rob and I went into a little store and found a few supplies. Rob bought a treasured can of Pringles (we hardly ever eat this kind of stuff in the US, but somehow, “American” junk food is too hard to pass up here), and I found a small tube of tooth-whitening toothpaste. I am pretty low-maintenance as far as beauty products and toiletries are concerned, but I am partial to tooth-whitening toothpaste. I do think the stuff really works. Plus, my teeth are probably my best and perhaps only redeeming physical feature so I like to play them up as much as I can. Seriously, one time there was a retired couple staying here at the hacienda and they told me that my teeth were so white and straight that they wondered if my father was a dentist. I resisted the temptation to ask why they assumed that it would be my father, rather than my mother, who was a dentist and just explained that it was good dental hygiene. Well, I unfortunately mis-judged how much toothpaste I would need to finish out this project, and I ran out of tooth-whitening toothpaste a couple weeks ago. My ship came in yesterday when I found that the store in Altagracia had some. Although it was exorbitantly expensive, I bought it and rode all 17 km home with it in my pocket.

Rob in the bustling metropolis of Altagracia

Melissa will be keeping those pearly whites pearly and white

Some of the more impressive artifacts at the museum

When we were about 5 km from home and in the middle of nowhere, Rob’s front tire went flat. It seemed like we were going to have to walk the bikes the rest of the way back, but we ended up finding a little house and asking a guy who lived there if he could help. While about 6 or 7 children stood around looking wide-eyed at us and pawing us, the guy went and found an air pump to fill up Rob’s tire. It was a temporary fix, because the puncture was not sealed, but it was enough to get Rob about another 4 km and by that point we were just about home.

Rob walking the bike; note the container of Pringles in the back pocket of his jersey

That had prolonged our trip enough to the point we were starving, so we treated ourselves to a really late lunch of ‘vegetarian tacos” at a place down the road. Now I’ve got to spend the rest of the weekend resting so that I have enough energy to get through the rest of this month.

This was a long one—thanks for reading!

Eat mangos while you can

2007-07-16T20:25:00.000-06:00

Thanks to everyone for your care and concern about my dad. He had to have emergency surgery, but as of 4pm this afternoon, he is out of the hospital and back at home. He is recovering well, though still feeling kind of cruddy I guess. Please do keep him in your thoughts and send him get well wishes.

To backtrack a bit, this weekend Rob and I celebrated our anniversary by going to a place called Albergue Ecológico (about 6 km away from here) to look at some 3,000 year old petroglyphs. These are rock carvings made by the first inhabitants of Ometepe Island. We took a guided tour (all in Spanish of course), but I wish I would have written some things down because now I don’t remember what all the guide told us.

This one is supposed to be a carving of a monkeyThe circular shapes at the bottom right are a calendar.

Cloudy view of Concepción

Today I was back out in the forest for a long day of watching the North Group. I do like being out in the forest, and of course I love the monkeys, but the mosquitoes, spiders, and rain make it difficult. Not to mention the alarm clock going off at 4:20am. It is seriously hard for me. The only way I’ve been getting by is on mangos. Since about April or May, there has been a constant supply of mangos, and every night before I go out to the forest, I cut up a bunch of mangos and put them in a little container to take out with me the next day. That way, when my alarm clock goes off and all I want to do is stay in bed, I remind myself that I can eat mangos all day long if I just get up and go out to the forest. My love for mangos has become somewhat notorious around here. Most Nicaraguans enjoy eating mangos, but I don’t think any of them has met someone who loves mangos quite as much as I do. The ironic thing is that I’m actually allergic to mangos. Strangely enough, mangos are related to poison ivy, and its not uncommon for people (especially gringos) to get a poison ivy-like rash around their mouth after eating mangos. After much trial and error, I’ve learned that if I cut up the mango and eat it really carefully with a fork—avoiding getting any of the juice on my mouth or lips—I do just fine.

Doña Argentina (one of the cooks) asked me if we had mangos in the US, and I said yes but they are usually very expensive and not nearly as good as mangos in Nicaragua, so I do not eat them very often. She smiled and told me that I would have to eat the mangos here then, while I could. So that’s what I’ve been doing—eating the mangos while I can. Well, today I think my luck finally ran out and mango season has ended. When I was getting my things ready for the forest tomorrow, there were no mangos anywhere in the kitchen. I knew that this would happen some day, so I was not completely unprepared. Its just going to make it that much harder to get up when my alarm goes off at 4:20 in the morning tomorrow. At least it was good while it lasted!

Today while I was out in the forest enjoying what was apparently the last of the season’s mangos, I saw Wilma. If you recall, Wilma is an adult female from the North Group who had a baby back in March that I called Mabel. A couple of months later, I realized that Mabel was actually a boy, but by that point I couldn’t change his name, so I kept on calling him Mabel. Well, today Wilma was alone; there was no Mabel in sight. Mabel would be 4 months old now, and still dependent on Wilma for everything. He might leave her side for a few minutes, but not for an entire day. The situation doesn’t look good for Mabel. I keep hoping that I was mistaken; that it wasn’t really Wilma who I saw, and that I’ll find Mabel alive and well tomorrow. But somehow I don’t think that’s going to happen. It looks like another infant from the North Group has died. In the past year, there have been 6 births in the North Group; with Mabel gone missing now, that makes 4 of them who have died or disappeared. All that are left are Stacy (7 months) and Toby (2 months), so I’m really hoping they make it.

That’s all for now; I’ve got to get some sleep. Getting up at 4:20 in the morning is going to be awfully tough, knowing that it will be a day without mangos. Thanks for reading.

Six year anniversary of the Ragfields

2007-07-14T07:52:00.000-06:00

Well, it was 6 years ago today that Rob and I were married. That means we’ve actually known each other for almost 10 years. So far its been working out pretty well.

Here—in no particular order—are a few random selections from a list I made entitled “1000 Reasons Why I Love Rob.”

1. You moved the clocks for me.
4. You ride your bike everywhere.
7. Sometimes when I least expect it, you save the last brownie for me.
16. You have your own dance move, which I call “The Rob.”
40. You can clog.
45. You convinced me that we should get a tandem bike.
58. You like salad.
82. You can multiply large numbers in your head more quickly than a calculator.
97. When the pond froze, you shoveled a path and went ice-skating.
100. You warm my feet at night in the winter.
109. You have gone through the drive-thru at the bank while on your bike.
111. You can squeeze toothpaste from the tube far beyond the point at which I think it is humanly possible.
118. You look really cool in sunglasses.
125. You ran for a public office as a write-in candidate.
145. You can sing “Living on a Prayer” in a Scottish accent.
167. You stop for turtles.
171. You rode your bike to Altagracia at 6:00 in the morning to get medicine for the baby howler monkey we were trying to save.

Sometimes I still find it hard to believe that my life has turned out this good. If I had it to do all over again, I would, but I'd probably want to get married barefoot on a mountain-top instead of in such a frilly dress. I'd still want chocolate cake and bridesmaids though.

Thanks for reading.

Friday the 13th

2007-07-13T22:26:00.000-06:00

I’m not superstitious at all (at least about the usual things, such as black cats and Friday the 13th), so I went out to the forest today without any trepidation. There were a few difficulties, but overall, it was a pretty good day. When I got home from the forest this evening, I was reflecting on how well everything has been going lately and I was feeling a bit relieved after all of the difficulties I had in June.

Then I heard from my mom, who told me that my dad had gotten very sick this morning and had to be rushed to the hospital to have emergency surgery. He is doing much better now, and after a bit of recovery it seems like he will be as good as new. What a Friday the 13th. To think, I’d been blithely sitting in the forest all day, having no idea that all of this was happening back at home. It seems like since Rob and I have been gone, a ton of our friends and family have had major health scares. We are really hoping that everyone stays healthy and happy from now on.

Please send out some get-well-wishes to my dad, to speed him along in his recovery. Thanks for reading.

One-year anniversary of the blog

2007-07-11T18:58:00.000-06:00

Number of Ticks Removed: 63
Days Tick Free: 5

It was one year ago today that I began the blog. I browsed through some of my old posts, just to remind myself of all that has taken place in the past year, and I was overwhelmed by the lameness of my entries. This pretty much happens whenever I go back and re-read anything I’ve ever written. After the fact it always seems so lame. The only thing that I think has maintained some of its integrity is my NSF grant, although if you look closely, there are a few typos in there.

At any rate, I am doing my best to struggle through the last few weeks of the project. It would be nice to end this on a high note, but the rain, the spiders, the endless tangles of vines, and the lack of juveniles are making it a punishing task at best. A hundred times a day I swear that I will call up the airline to change my ticket and be on the first plane out of here, but when I actually consider leaving Wrinkle Belly, Horace, Jess, Uno, Stacy, etc, I get all weepy and never want to go.

I’m sure with each sentence, this post is getting more and more lame, so I’d better sign off for now. Thanks for reading, for a whole year.

A Very Ragfield Adventure

2007-07-05T21:19:00.000-06:00

With my visa getting ready to expire, I needed to leave the country for 72 hours and then re-enter. So Rob and I left for Costa Rica in the morning on June 30th. When we got to the border we waited in a confusing, blob-like line to get our “exit stamps” for Nicaragua; then we had to walk to the Costa Rican side to get our “entry stamps.” Outside the Costa Rican immigration office, we were greeted by a very, very, very, very long line. We’d left in the morning about 9am, and by this point it was around 3pm. We had enough snacks to keep us going, but a bathroom would have been nice. Since public restrooms do not appear to exist in Central America, there was nothing to do but wait in the hot sun. We realized that trying to make a border crossing on a Saturday afternoon in June is probably not wise.

Finally we got the necessary stamps on our passports and among the chaos, we managed to find a bus going to Liberia and somehow figured out how to buy tickets for it. We aren’t sure why, but the whole process was infinitely more complicated than the last time we did it. At any rate, we finally made it to Liberia around 5pm. It was definitely weird to be in Costa Rica after so many months in Nicaragua. First of all, where we get off the bus in Liberia there is a Burger King and a Papa John’s. Its like Little USA. Rob and I decided that we were actually hungry enough to eat at Papa Johns, and after that, we got a room at the same hospedaje where we stayed the last time we were there. A friendly iguana (photo at right) greeted us.

The next day (July 1), we took a little trip to a beach called Playa Panamá. It was really quite lovely; not touristy at all, just lots of local families out having a relaxing day.

We headed back to Liberia for the night and the next morning (July 2) we left for the next phase of our journey: Volcán Arenal. Arenal is supposedly the “most active” volcano in Central America and is also one of the most popular tourist destinations in Costa Rica. It required several long trips to get there: a bus from Liberia to Cañas, another bus from Cañas to Tilarán; an hour an a half lay-over in Tilaran and then a final 3-1/2 hour bus ride to a town called La Fortuna. Constant bus-rides and Dramamine over the past couple of days had me feeling quite vomitous, but I managed to make it.

Picture of Lake Arenal from the bus window

La Fortuna is the place to stay if you are planning to visit Arenal. Seriously, I think this town is the Pigeon Forge or Dolly-Wood of Central America. Take a beautiful natural treasure and then build up a town around it that is full of over-priced tour operators, tacky souvenir shops, bad restaurants, and a million different hotels. We decided to stay at a modest place called “Cabinas Sissy” and tried to figure out what to do from there. The whole place is a huge money pit: Arenal National Park is actually 17 kilometers away, and there’s no local transportation (ie, bus) to get there. You either take a $15 each-way taxi ride, or you go as part of a “tour.” There dozens of tour operators each offering a multitude of different tour options, including canoe tours, kayak tours, white-water rafting tours, hiking tours, bungee jumping, wildlife watching, nighttime lava tours, etc. The options were overwhelming. Rob and I couldn’t find a single “tour” that was less than $35 per person (plus park entry fees), and none of them seemed worth it. What we ended up deciding to do was make up our own “tour,” and thus began the Ragfield Adventure.

Central park in La Fortuna

On Monday morning (July 3), we rented bikes at a place called “Bike Arenal.” The bike shop was actually pretty cool. They had good quality mountain bikes, and the rental fee included a helmet, bike gloves, repair kit, lock, and bottle of water. Oh, and a not-to-scale cartoon map of the region. With all this gear in check, Rob and I set off to bike around the volcano, or at least as close as we could get.

The breakfast of Champions: Rob found some Zucaritas (Frosted Flakes) at the Mini Super Cristian (the grocery store in La Fortuna)

Rob, stocking up on supplies for our ride at the Mini Super Cristian

The guy in the bike shop had described the road to Arenal as “suave”—which I suppose would have been true if you are a veteran rider of hills and are not scared of skinny roads with a lot of traffic. I lost count of how many close calls I had with giant Mack trucks zooming past me and blowing diesel in my face.

We had decided that instead of actually entering the park and doing touristy hikes, we’d just ride around for the views. Unfortunately, it was a bit rainy, and after all of our effort, we were rewarded with a lovely view of… clouds. To be honest, I was feeling pretty crummy. Riding on the hilly road was one thing, but riding among so much traffic was quite another. The farther we went, the more I dreaded the ride back.

We also did a bit of riding around Lake Arenal—its an artificial lake made when they dammed the Arenal River. By this time, the clouds cleared away and at long last, we could see Volcán Arenal looming huge above us. It was impressive enough to clear away my dismal mood as well, and I actually started to feel glad that we had undertaken this adventure.

Helmet head Ragfields

After stopping to admire the volcano for a while, we headed back to the town of Fortuna. There were a few really tough sections and a lot of fast trucks, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as I’d dreaded. It reminded me a lot of that time Rob and I took a bike trip to the Smoky Mountains—only this time I do not have health insurance and barely speak the language. But still, whizzing down those big hills was a lot of fun.

When we got back to town, we returned the bikes and somehow miraculously found a restaurant with some decent food (ie, minimally greasy) to eat (I didn’t think it was possible, but it seems that Costa Ricans use even more corn oil in their cooking than Nicaraguans). Because we’d biked over 50 kilometers, we treated ourselves to ice cream as well.

With just one night left, our trip was quickly coming to an end. The helpful proprietor of “Cabinas Sissy” had told us that we could take a 6:30am bus from La Fortuna to a nearby town called Tanque, and from there, we could catch a bus that would take us directly to the Nicraguan border at Peñas Blancas.

Sissy’s information was correct, but the trip was not nearly as smooth as we would have hoped. We did in fact board a bus to Peñas Blancas from Tanque; after a brief layover in a town called Upala, we were on our way again. Despite my ever present motion sickness, everything seemed to be going well until the bus came to a dead stop on the side of the road. The driver made some sort of announcement; I didn’t really understand everything he said, but the gist of it was that there was a problem with the bus and he was going to try to fix it. We waited and waited as the driver and several passengers went under the bus to repair it. Also, it began pouring down rain. After some time, the driver emerged again, all covered in grease, and announced that he did not have the proper tool to fix the problem, and that he had called for another bus to come pick us up, but that it would not arrive for 45 minutes or so. At this point, I was beyond-nervously glancing at my watch. It was nearing 1:00pm and we still weren’t even at the border. In order to make it all the way back to Mérida, we needed to be through the border by 2:30, so that we could be in San Jorge to catch the 3:30 ferry, so that we could catch the 4:30 bus back home.

After trying to fix the bus for about an hour and a half, the driver started it again and proceeded to drive. It wasn’t just that I have trouble understanding Spanish; I kept asking the people around us what was going on and they were just as bewildered. Somehow, we made it to the town of La Cruz (only about 25 minutes from the border); there, the driver announced that we could either wait for the bus to be repaired, or catch the next bus to the border—which didn’t come for 55 minutes. It was 1:30. Rob and I ran off the bus and found a taxi willing to take us to the border for about $8. The driver assured us that on a Wednesday afternoon, the border crossing should be a breeze.

For the Costa Rican side, it was. We were through by 2pm. We then ran something like 1/2 mile through the pouring rain to get to the Nicaraguan side. Once there, we saw a huge amorphous line—more of a blob really—of hundreds of people. “This can’t be the line to enter Nicaragua, can it?” we asked ourselves. Oh but it was. The electricity was out on the Nicaraguan side, so everything was at a standstill. No one could get their papers processed until the power came back on and the computers were up and running. In an instant, we knew we wouldn’t get home that night.

In the midst of this sickening realization, we heard a familiar voice: “Hey guys, what are you doing here?” It was Alvaro, the field station manager. Apparently he had come to Costa Rica to pick up some things and was on his way back home. He had made it through the line before the power went out. “Too bad you have to wait in this line; otherwise I could give you a ride,” he said. I felt like shaking my fist in the air.

After 45 minutes or so, the power came back on. The amorphous blob of a line now started to split into two, one being a line to ENTER the country and the other being a line to EXIT the country. Somehow in the confusion, Rob and I got pushed over into the Exiting Nicaragua side—not where we wanted to be. “We’ve got to insinuate ourselves back into the entry line,” I said through gritted teeth. At this point, we didn’t really care who we ticked off, and we wormed our way back into the correct line. Eventually we made it up to the front, where a very grumpy government worker laboriously took our documents and processed our paperwork. It was 3:15. The ferry we needed was leaving in 15 minutes, we were still 45 minutes away from it.

At that point there was no reason to hurry anymore. We got on a bus bound for Rivas and eventually got there around 4:15. Then we had to take a short taxi ride to the dock at San Jorge. We thought that there might be a chance of catching Alvaro with his truck at the dock, in which case we could ride with him and still make it home. But Alvaro was nowhere to be found. We wouldn’t be able to get all the way back to Merida unless we took an expensive taxi ride, but at least we could get to the island, stay in Moyogalpa overnight, and hop on a cheap bus in the morning.

There was a little boat leaving at 5pm, and then the last boat of the day—one of those big, smooth-riding Ferry Ometepes—was taking off at 5:40. Rob took one look at the violently churning lake and proclaimed that he was waiting for the big boat. So we waited around for the big boat (which thankfully had a bathroom, albeit gross) and began our journey across Lake Nicaragua. It was actually quite nice and peaceful. We got to watch the sunset, and the temperature cooled down enough that I put on long sleeves.

We got a $6 room at “Hotel Central” in Moyogalpa (actually quite a fun little place) and ordered dinner for 23 cordovas (just a little bit over a dollar). I had no idea what it was going to be—it was called “Indio Viejo Vegetariano”—but it had the word “vegetarian” in it, which is something you don’t often see in Nicaragua. When the dinner arrived, it looked kind of gross, but was actually really good. It was some kind of corn mush with vegetables in it (green peppers, onions, and tomatoes), all covered in black beans.

We were exhausted and full, but we drug ourselves over to a place called “Yogi’s Bar” (owned by a gringo) for some self-advertised “fabulous brownies.” After we could consume no more brownies we went back to Hotel Central and fell asleep.

Thursday morning (July 5), we caught an 8:30 bus back to Merida and finally arrived at 11:30. It took us 24 hours to go the last 45 kilometers, and the whole trip back was 29 hours from our start in La Fortuna. As we got off the bus and walked towards the hacienda, little Eduardo met up with us and cried out, “Hola Melissa!” He asked me if I needed help carrying my things. What a sweetie.

I spent the rest of the day unpacking, washing clothes, and getting ready to go back out to the forest tomorrow. Just as I was about to go to sleep, Rob noticed a scorpion on one of our curtains, so we had to get rid of that. Seriously people, August 12th can’t come too soon.

Thanks for reading!

The Long Trip Home

2007-07-05T12:43:00.000-06:00

Just a brief note in case anyone is checking the blog: Rob and I made it back from our trip to Costa Rica. It was a long trip home; I have many adventures to write about, so stay tuned....

The best 50 córdobas I've ever spent

2007-06-29T20:38:00.000-06:00

Last night was some kind of “parent-teacher conference” for the kids who are taking English classes here. I got to meet Eduardo’s mom, and she is so sweet. No wonder Eduardo is such a good little boy.

A plant chemistry professor (who I’ve met before when he was teaching a class here) also showed up again last night. He's on his way to the herbarium in Léon and he said if I needed some plants identified, he could take my samples with him. That is a really great offer—actually, it would be a huge help to me. There are a few trees out in the forest that the monkeys like to eat from, but no one (including botany students) has been able to tell me what they are. So I decided to undertake an expedition to collect samples of these trees today. I knew I needed someone who could help me cut down samples, but last night when the professor arrived, it was kind of late to arrange a helper for such an expedition. I talked to Conny, a girl who works here, and she said she would make some calls and find someone for me. Sure enough, early this morning, a guy named Pedro showed up and said he could do the work. So Pedro and I went to the forest, gathering samples of some of these mystery trees. His tree-climbing ability amazed me. Several times he shimmied up trees and tightrope-walked out on branches to cut down a sample. I actually had to look away because it made me so nervous. He is only 18 years old, but he knows a fair amount about the forest, and it was really helpful to talk to him. When we were done with the work, I gave him 50 córdobas (a little bit more than $2.50), which was actually more than the amount I initially said I’d pay him. He seemed pretty happy with it, and I am hoping that this is the best 50 córdobas I’ve ever spent. If I can get those plant samples to Léon (without taking time out do to so myself) and they can identify them, my dissertation will be ever so much more scientific.

Rob and I will be heading out to Costa Rica tomorrow because I need to leave the country and re-enter for visa purposes. I’m not sure where all we’re going or what all we will be doing, but I will try to take pictures and write about our adventures when we return.

One more thing: good news, Rob and I finally found a place to live when we return to the U.S. None of this would have been accomplished without the Scho’s, who are the best in-laws ever! Thanks so much for all your help in finding us a home sweet home.

And this is the last thing, I promise. Birthdays of friends and family have been numerous this past week. So far we’ve had the birthdays of Cousin Tommy, Uncle Jim, Nana, Rob’s brother Travis, and tomorrow… its Little Miss Claire’s. A Happy Birthday to all!

Thanks for reading!

Lucy's Leap

2007-06-26T18:56:00.000-06:00

A tourist who’s been staying here for a while told me that my blog is the number one hit if you Google “Moyogalpa” and “ATM.” Ah, the not-so fond-memories of wretching on that infamous ferry ride.

Yesterday (Monday) I was back out in the forest and had a pretty good day, all things considered. Today (Tuesday) was much more challenging, but if I can just make it through tomorrow (Wednesday), I’ll be done with data this month.

When I got home today, Lucy the Squirrel was perched outside our room and she was chattering loudly. I was really happy to see her again because it had been a while. She could barely contain her excitement as I came into the room to get some cookies to share with her. Rob was out on a bike ride, but when he got home he told me that Lucy had been chattering beside our room all day. He said that when he left for his bike ride, Lucy leapt onto his leg and clung to him. I guess he didn’t like that too much, but I’m sure Lucy didn’t mean any harm. One time while I was walking through town, I’m pretty sure I saw her riding on a little boy’s shoulder.

That’s all for now. Thanks for reading. And thanks to all for your emails and comments!

The Trip

2007-06-22T18:46:00.000-06:00

Warning: this is a loooooong one

Saturday 16 June - Tuesday 19 June
The Trip, Part 1: A Lesson in Staying Calm

I had no problem getting to Managua to meet Rob last Saturday; the chicken buses here are remarkably efficient. Rob’s plane was delayed but only by an hour or so; when he finally got in, we stayed up late talking and eating M&M’s he had brought from home.

Andy and Kim’s plane was to arrive in Managua at 11:00 on Sunday morning; we had a whole list of places we wanted to take them and things we wanted to show them. Unfortunately, their flight was delayed or cancelled or something, and we found out they weren’t due in until 6:50 that night. So, Rob and I decided to have a day of fun riding chicken buses. For about 8 cents, we took a bus from the hotel we’d stayed at to the big Managua bus station (Huembes), and from there, we hopped on another standing-room-only bus (about 48 cents) to the nearby town of Masaya. We strolled around and went to the artisan markets again, where I browsed and shopped to my heart’s content. We also had a piece of chocolate cake from Norma’s Bakery—the bakery that is apparently so good it has to have an armed police officer guarding it. In the late afternoon, we headed back to the airport and found out that Andy and Kim’s plane had been delayed again. They finally ended arriving at 8:50pm; unfortunately, none of their checked luggage arrived.

To make a long story short, I learned a lesson in calmness and patience from my brother- and sister-in-law. Although they had been traveling for some 17 hours and ended up arriving at their destination 10 hours late with only the clothes on their backs, they both seemed as fresh as daisies and never uttered one word of complaint. Andy had made arrangements to rent a car; however, the rental place closed at 8:30. Luckily, Rob realized this and took care of it so that we had a car (a truck actually) and thus a non-chicken bus way to get to Granada, where we had a hotel reserved for the night. The original plan had been to stay in Granada on Sunday night and then take the ferry to Ometepe on Monday morning. I thought that Andy and Kim might want to change that a bit, in order to stay near Managua to get back to the airport and pick up their luggage when and if it arrived. But they decided to power through and stick with the plan—they had such little time in Nicaragua and did not want to spend it all waiting around in the Managua airport.

So Rob revved up the truck and we all drove to Granada. It was the first time Rob had driven in Nicaragua, and I will definitely say that he was quite good at it. After arriving at the hotel in Granada and having a scant few hours of sleep, we all got up bright and early on Monday morning to wander the town, have breakfast, and buy a few supplies for Andy and Kim. Then we drove from Granada to San Jorge, where we would take the ferry to Ometepe.

It was a bit of an experience driving the truck onto the boat, but Rob did it well. Andy and Kim and I just sort of stared on in awe as Rob maneuvered the giant vehicle onto the ferry.

At last, we arrived on Ometepe. On our way from the dock to our place in Mérida, we made a few stops at some scenic points. One place we went was the Punta Jésus Maria, which is some kind of really long sandbar jutting way, way out into Lake Nicaragua. We walked for what seemed like forever on this skinny strip of land surrounded by water. It was nice enough, but what would have been a stunning view of the volcanoes was obscured by thick clouds.

We drove on and finally arrived in Mérida. At last, some of our family was actually going to see this place where we’ve been living for almost a year! Andy and Kim got to meet some of the staff who were working, and luckily the cloudy sky cleared up just enough to offer up a lovely Ometepe sunset.

Again, I thought that Andy and Kim might want to relax or sleep in, but they were undeterred by all the airline mishaps and determined to make the most of their trip to Nicaragua. They wanted to get up at 6:00am the next morning to see my forest, so that’s what we did. Luckily, the North Group was foraging low on the Camino, so Andy and Kim got to see the monkeys. I was ecstatic because Wrinkle Belly was there in all his wrinkled glory and they got to meet him too.

Guess who!! Everyone's favorite monkey.

I think Kimberly was in her element out in the forest. She is an entomologist, specializing in ants, and there were plenty of insects for her to admire. I think she and I could have been content to romp around the forest looking at bugs and monkeys for many an hour; we’re not sure that Rob and Andy like it out in nature so much. Kimberly got to check out those wicked Acacia trees, armed with their nasty little fire ants, and it was not difficult at all for me to find plenty of those red, black and yellow spiders I’ve been complaining about. As luck would have it, many of these spiders appear to have reached their adult size and coloration in the 3 days I was away from the forest. Kimberly’s expert opinion was that they did not seem to be dangerous; nonetheless, I still do not like them. Rob took some really good close-ups of the spiders, but out of consideration of Jodi, I will not post them here.

After a couple hours out in the forest, we returned to the Hacienda. Little Eduardo was here, just finished with his English lesson, and joined us for breakfast. He used his new English-speaking skills to introduce himself to both Kim and Andy, saying, “Good morning, my name is Eduardo. How are you?” Precious. Oh how I wish it were legal or advisable to take him home with me.

After breakfast, it was time to move on. We were scheduled to leave Ometepe for Part 2 of The Trip: San Juan del Sur.

Tuesday 19 June - Thursday 21 June
The Trip, Part Two: A different Nicaragua

Tuesday morning after breakfast, we all piled into the rental truck again and drove back to Moyogalpa to get on the ferry. We had time to make a brief stop at the beach in Santo Domingo, so Kim and Andy got to see that. After our boat ride back to the mainland and a fairly disgusting lunch in Rivas (Rob and I have never actually found anything decent to eat there), we were on the road again to the beach town of San Juan del Sur. San Juan is one of those places that can either seem really ritzy or really grungy, depending on where you stay. Andy and Kim had arranged for a fancy hotel up on the bluff called Pelican Eyes. I’m surprised that a place like that even let riff-raff like the Ragfields step foot in it. It was so big that they had to give us a map at the reception desk. There were 3 different swimming pools in the compound (swimming pools!), plus a zoo, and our room (a 4-person suite, actually) came equipped with a kitchenette and cable TV. My head was spinning. I’ve been here so long that warm water is about as luxurious as I can imagine. This was definitely a different Nicaragua. I kept thinking of Eduardo or Dalila, who works in the kitchen at the Hacienda—what would they think of a place like this? It seemed like such a strange juxtaposition to have a countryside lined with falling-apart ramshackle huts and people living on one dollar a day; then such a fancy resort like this.

All fanciness aside, even Pelican Eyes was not immune to the city-wide blackout that lasted most of the night. We’d been out on the street at some souvenir shops and didn’t realize that the power was out in the city until it started getting dark. We stumbled around the pitch-black town trying to find a place to eat dinner; I’m not really sure what I ended up eating because I couldn’t see it, but it had jalepeños in it and was quite good. We scaled the treacherous hill up the bluff back to Pelican Eyes and then fumbled around the room trying to locate the candles and matches on the nightstand. Before, I’d thought that was probably just supposed to be a romantic touch, now I realized it was a necessity for the frequent and prolonged power outages that are so much more common on mainland Nicaragua than on the island. No sooner had we gotten the candles burning than the generator kicked in, so we had power once again.

Wednesday morning we cashed in on our complimentary breakfast at one of the hotel restaurants. The breakfast was as fancy as the hotel itself. We all got fruit plates, muffins, juice and coffee—that was before our actual meal. I wish I’d saved more room for my breakfast of granola, honey, and yogurt. Before we checked out, we took a quick dip in one of the hotel pools.

When Rob and I had gone to San Juan del Sur back in November, we’d rented bikes and tried to ride to some of the many other beaches along the coast. Unfortunately, there were some bike mishaps and we never made it. This time we had a car, so the four of us set out to try to find some of these supposedly beautiful beaches. We drove and drove, only winding deeper into the green Nicaraguan country-side and never finding any roads leading to a beach. We finally ended up turning around and driving back to San Juan del Sur. By this point, I was somewhat desperate for the ocean (as those of you who know my obsession with the ocean can imagine). The day before, I’d dipped my feet into the water, but that was it. So when we arrived back at the shore, I made a bee-line to the water and ran right in. The water was freezing; does the Pacific ever get warm, anywhere? I didn’t care about the frigid temperature; I soaked up all the salty loveliness of the ocean that I could because all too soon we had to go.

We drove back to San Jorge so that Rob and I could catch the 3:30 ferry and return to the island. Kim and Andy would be heading back to Granada for the evening and flying back home the next morning. It was sad saying goodbye to Kim and Andy; we’d had such a good time and packed in so many activities. Hopefully they have many memories of Nicaragua. I’m glad they got a chance to see the rural countryside where we live as well as the richness of a place like Pelican Eyes.

Rob and I have been incommunicado since we’ve been back; the internet isn’t working and there is no sign of when we may have service available again. So as I write, I’m not sure when I’m actually going to get to post this; hopefully it won’t be too long before we’re back online. At any rate, a million thanks to Kim and Andy for coming to visit us. I hope that both of you enjoyed your trip as much as we did. If anyone else is considering a visit, make it fast—we’ve only got less than 2 months left now! Thanks for reading.

You have many beautiful things

2007-06-15T13:18:00.000-06:00

Number of ticks removed: 54
Days tick-free: 0

I feel like all I’ve been doing lately is complaining, and that is not how I want this to be. I keep reminding myself of what this little boy Eduardo said the other day. Eduardo is one of the local children who is part of a project where he works here 1 day a week and attends an hour of English lessons Monday through Friday. One day as he was sweeping the porch, Eduardo peered into our room and said, in an awed tone, “Tiene muchas cosas bonitas.” Roughly translated as, “You have many beautiful things.” Its true, I do have many beautiful things. Not just the things sitting on the shelves, other things that you can’t see. Such as a year on this beautiful island, plus friends and family back at home who will be there when we return. So I hope it doesn’t sound like I’m complaining too much—I do know that I have many beautiful things.

On Tuesday I stayed in with the toughness tester in the morning, and in the afternoon I biked over to the beach at Santa Cruz. I think I needed that, to renew my faith in the island. With the road repaired, its a 25 minute ride through volcanic beauty. At the beach, I found that the shore was lined with thousands and thousands of teeny tiny frogs. They were seriously small, only about the size of this line: |___|. Seeing them served as a reminder that even though the lake looks like an ocean, it really is a lake.

I was back in the forest on Wednesday and Thursday. Both were extremely frustrating days, especially Thursday. In the early morning hours, we had a thunderstorm that dropped over 7 cm of rain on me, and I was soaking wet for the rest of the day. I think the monkeys get weird in the rain. They were so spread out, and it was hard to know what was going on. Finally I settled on an adult male from the South group, or so I thought. He hung out by himself all day, about 10 to 20 meters away from a small subgroup of other South monkeys. About 5 in the afternoon, he took off up the volcano. I’ve been with the South group in this area of the forest before, but I had this sinking suspicion that something crazy was going on. Most of the rest of the South group was far down below. My gut tells me that this male was not actually in the South group: either he was some kind of loner or maybe he was part of another group but he just happened to be hanging out in the South range all day. I’ll never really know, but I suppose I should re-do my observation of a South group male for this month. The thought of this was too much for me to bear yesterday—that I might as well have been at home in bed all day instead of out in the pouring rain.

Despite my possible wasted day yesterday, I just I couldn’t go out again today. All along, I’d been planning to take Friday off so I could get ready to go to Managua on Saturday and meet Rob at the airport. This morning I helped out Joel (the English teacher, who is actually French-Canadian) with the kids. Wow, if these kids manage to learn any English, it will be a miracle. The entire class was a total cacophony of all 5 students shouting and giggling at the same time, throwing back and forth their notebooks and pencils. After class, we went over to the garden to teach the kids English names for the vegetables. It was a jumbled procession of cart-wheeling kids, who were climbing all over each other, over us, and up in the Guayabo trees to pick fruits. You wouldn’t think a simple walk in the garden would be fraught with danger, but about a dozen times, Eduardo did something (like balance on a precariously thin Guayabo branch) that make my heart catch in my throat as I shouted, “Eduardo, cuidado!” Most of the kids stayed after that, and I took some pictures. Kids here are endlessly fascinated with cameras. After I had taken a few photos of them, they each wanted to take pictures of me, of each other, of themselves. The result is a lot of blurry images, but we had fun.

Meli and Professor Joel with the students. Eduardo is on the far right, next to Joel.

More pictures of the kids at the dock

Eduardo, balancing precariously over the water and making me nervous

Tomorrow I’m off to Managua to meet Rob. At long last, we’ll be having visitors too. Rob’s brother Andy and his wife Kimberly are flying in on Sunday, and we’re going to travel for a few days with them. I am definitely looking forward to this!! I will take lots of pictures of our adventures. Thanks for reading.

Intruder alert, intruder alert

2007-06-11T22:04:00.000-06:00

Number of Ticks Removed: 53
Days Tick Free: 0

Well, Rob got to where he was going without any major troubles, I guess. Before his bus left on Friday morning, I saw them fill it up with gas, which answers my question of how they actually do that here. There's not a gas station on this side of the island, so I am glad someone had the foresight to realize they needed fuel to make it to Moyogalpa. I was also glad to see that Rob had some friendly company on the bus. Clara, the woman who lives/works next door at the vegetable stand, was on the bus with her kids (or maybe niece and nephew?) Every evening as I walk by their place on my way home from the forest, Clara tells the kids to wave at me and say "Hola, Melissa." Cute. Here's a picture of the kids spontaneously starting to dance when somebody cranked up the music before the bus took off.

Rob ready to go

I've been working pretty hard since Rob left, but unfortunately don't have much to show for it. There are no juveniles of the right age for me to study in the North group, which certainly makes it difficult to get data on that age class. There are two older juveniles (Horace and Jess) who are already weaned, but I’ve had trouble finding them recently. On Saturday, I couldn’t find them at all, so I followed Wrinkle Belly. The day was a good one for Wrinkle Belly because he got lucky with a female twice, plus he ate tender young ficus leaves for his afternoon snack. What made the day most noteworthy, however, was that I saw a baby coral snake. So poisonous, but so beautiful. Out of the corner of my eye, I just happened to catch a brilliant flash of red, black, and yellow. It was moving so fast that I couldn’t really tell what the order of the stripes were (Red next to black, friend of Jack…), so it is possible that it may not have had that deadly red/yellow combination and was instead a mimic species. I guess we will never know!

Sunday I set out, determined to find a North group juvenile, but was unlucky yet again. It was actually a pretty wretched day. With all the rain we’ve been having, the canopy has become so dense that it is sometimes almost impossible to see anything. Picture a house with green ceilings. Now imagine that you are trying to look up through the ceiling to observe monkeys on the roof. That is what it is like. Thus, I have been having a lot of trouble staying with my focal animal and actually seeing what he/she is doing. I had thought with the rains that tick season would be over, but not so. On Sunday I removed 7, count them 7 ticks. I swear, Nicaraguan insects actually like bug repellent instead of being deterred by it.

For the second day in a row, the North group was squarely in the South group’s home range, and I really began to wonder—if the North group is in the South group’s range, then where is the South group? That brings us to today, when I resolved that come hell or high water, I would find a North juvenile. Mercifully, I encountered Jess after about a half an hour of wandering the ranks of the North group. She was foraging with her mother and a male I call Medio. As the morning progressed, I heard a bunch of howling not too far away. It quickly became apparent that the South group was close by and not happy that the North group had intruded into their range. All of a sudden, Uno (of the South group) charged from out of nowhere and chased Medio out of his tree and almost down to the ground. I was so close to the action that I actually had to dart out of the way because I thought Medio was going to fall on top of me. The other monkeys fled the confrontation as quickly as they could. Poor Medio clung to a spindly Cecropia trunk, barely 3 feet off the ground. It was clear that he was frightened: his breathing was so heavy that I could see his sides heaving. There were no other trees nearby for him to scramble up into, and he seemed too scared to actually walk on the ground. Uno stayed in the tree crown, directly above him, and Medio had nowhere to go. I stayed there watching them; at one point Medio looked at me, directly into my eyes, and I swear he had this sad little expression on his face like, “Please help me, lady.” Believe me, I would have if I could have, but in the end, I just backed away slowly to give him room to do whatever he needed to do.

In all the commotion, I must have gotten Jess mixed up with a like-aged female juvenile from the South group. It took me about an hour and a half to realize that I had somehow switched to the South group and the North group had retreated down the camino. It was another hour before I found Jess again amid the North group. I managed to stay with her for about 5 more hours before then dense canopy intervened and I lost her for good. So after these last several days, I’m feeling exhausted and defeated and like the next two months are going to be incredibly frustrating. I’ve made it to the point at which the sun begins to rise later, but it really doesn’t seem like there’s been any change. Thankfully I collected a plant sample this afternoon, so I am going to stay in from the forest tomorrow and test it. Hopefully after a day to recover, I can re-energize and actually get some meaningful data when I go back out to the forest.

Its been a long day, so I need to sign off before I fall asleep at the computer. Thanks for reading!

It just got worse.

2007-06-07T21:53:00.001-06:00

I was sitting here in the room, reading the wonderful comments you all posted to my last entry, and thinking that I really shouldn’t complain so much, when I heard Rob say something muffled that ended in the word “tarantula.” With my voice becoming shrill, I demanded, “What about a tarantula?” He gestured towards the wall and sure enough, there was a tarantula crawling along the corner. (Don’t worry, Jodi, no pictures here). I ran and got a broom, Rob swept it out of the room. I am glad for Amy’s vote of confidence that I am tough, but seriously, I wonder if this might be the undoing of me. When I remind myself that Rob is going back to the US tomorrow, leaving me alone for a week in this tarantula-infested room, I become quite queasy.

Outside it is thundering and lightening and pouring down rain; I guess it really is true: when it rains it pours! Someday I’ll look back on this and laugh, right?

One more thing: could you all please send out prayers and healing wishes to Rob’s Nana and Grampy. Hang in there Nana, and Grampy, we hope you are back on your feet again soon.

Thanks again for reading.

The Sun Also Rises

2007-06-07T12:44:00.000-06:00

Thursday 7 June 2007
Happy birthday to my first little nephew, who is 2 today!

I’ve been dreading this for many months. Nicaragua seems to randomly “spring forward” for Daylight Savings in some years and not to do it at all in other years. 2007 is one of those years when Daylight Savings is not observed, so since the end of January, the time of the sunrise has been creeping backward, earlier and earlier. This means that in order for me to get a full-day follow of the monkeys, I’ve had to keep getting up earlier and earlier. The worst is upon us now: the sun is rising at its maximally earliest time. Official sunrise is at 5:17am, and it is light enough to see by 4:55am. I’m getting up around 4:15 so that I can get ready, walk to the forest, and find the monkeys by the time they start their day. The good thing about having finally reached this point of maximal earliness is that at least I know it won’t get any worse than this. In fact, on June 10th, the sun will actually rise one minute later, and by the end of July, sunrise will be at 5:30. So if I can just hang in there for a few more days, I can start sleeping in—ever so gradually—again.

In addition to the earliness of sunrise, there are other reasons why I’ve been dreading this time of year. The return of the rains means that the path up to the forest (also used to transport livestock) is a slick of mud and slime; out in the forest I am soaking wet all the time; the trees have leaves again so it is difficult to see the monkeys; the mosquitoes are back in full force; and there are spiders everywhere. I have learned that my hiking boots are not so waterproof as they are supposed to be, and I am considering buying a pair of those rubber galoshes that the men wear when they are working in the fields. The past few days, the mosquitoes have been almost unbearable. No amount of DEET seems to deter them. At all times, they are swarming around me like an unwanted entourage. I’ve got to bat them away from the air in front of my nose just to take a breath. Their constant high pitch whine makes it seem like I am at an airport or around machinery. They are particularly fond of my knuckles, fingers, and ears, but they also bite me right through my clothes. I find myself wondering if it is possible to actually get woozy from blood loss resulting from mosquito bites. And I think of Professor Pablo, who compared Ometepe to other field sites he’s worked at in Panama and in the Amazon and said, “There are no mosquitoes on Ometepe.” If that's true, I'm not sure how long I would last in those other places.

But what I find worse than the mosquitoes is, of course, the spiders. When the rains stopped at the end of November, the spiders all but disappeared. I was jubilant. But ever since we had that bit of rain in April, I have kept my eyes peeled for them. There have been a few here and there, but as of yesterday—its official—they’re back for good. During the wet season, there is a particularly terrifying form of spider that is everywhere in the forest. It is red and black and gold, and although I have been assured by numerous people that it is “harmless,” I still don’t like it one bit. (The photo at the right was taken during my pilot study in 2004). After describing the spider to Aimee, she said it sounded kind of like a “banana spider” they had on Hawaii; that wouldn’t surprise me because this spider is most prevalent in the South Group’s scrappy home range where there are still banana trees growing amid the vines and early-regenerating trees as the forest re-emerges from the fields.

Yesterday I was following the South Group, and like always, was taking note of the type and quantity of spiders around me. What was there didn’t seem too threatening. A lot of spindly little things with sort of yellowish bodies that didn’t scare even me. I kept thinking, well, at least the red, black, and yellow spiders aren’t back yet. But at some point in the afternoon, I took a closer look at the spindly little things all around me. Thin little legs, the body yellow with a black splotch on it. I looked even more closely and realized that these things were juvenile morphs of the very same red, yellow, and black spiders I fear like no other. They’re back!! They don’t scare me too much when they are tiny like this, but I don’t know enough about spider life history to know how long I’ve got.

So I feel like its going to be an ugly finish to the end of the project. Much like my first marathon—I finished, but it was sure not pretty. The next week or so is going to especially nasty. Rob leaves tomorrow for a conference in the US, so I’ll be metaphorically running these difficult miles without him cheering me on. I like to believe I'm as tough as nails though; I’m sure I’ll make it.

At any rate, lest S.L. is reading, I haven't taken the day off-- I’ve stayed in from the forest to test some young Ficus leaves. Its lunchtime now and the soup’s on, so I’d better go. Thanks for reading!

Miss Gay Ometepe

2007-06-04T10:26:00.001-06:00

As some may recall, I mentioned in my last entry that Harry, a cook who works here and who happens to be gay, had invited us to some type of Gay Pride fiesta on Ometepe last weekend. Unfortunately, the fiesta—which was actually to be a beauty pageant dubbed Miss Gay Ometepe—was cancelled when the church fathers got wind of it and put the smack down on homosexuality. But the gay community of Ometepe refused to be so easily defeated, and they bravely forged onward—rescheduling the event at a different venue for last night.

I worked hard this week to make sure I could go. After we got home from Laguna de Apoyo, I went to the forest on Wednesday with Pablo the botany student and we worked on identifying some trees. Then I spent the rest of the week collecting behavioral data and using the toughness tester. And it rained. And rained, and rained. The seasons changed so quickly it was like someone had flicked a switch. Almost overnight, the forest went from brown and dry to a green, green, green, tangled mess of vines. Its official now—the rainy season has begun.

Sunday, the day of the pageant, dawned. In the morning, Harry worked in the kitchen, and as he was washing dishes, he explained to me the basis of the pageant. Much like any regular beauty pageant, the Miss Gay Ometepe contest would feature a casual wear, evening gown, and swimming suit competition, plus a session in which each candidate was given a question to answer. However, all of the contestants would be gay men from Ometepe who were dressed as women. The pageant was to be held in a community called San Jose—which is still an hour away by car even though the road has recently been renovated. Esther (one of the girls who works here) had arranged for a truck to go from Mérida to San Jose, and when I asked her, she told me it would be fine for me and Rob to come along.

Long about 9 o’clock at night, Rob and me, and Daraysi, and several other local Mérida people piled into the back of the pick up truck and drove off into the night. The ride over was beautiful. A million stars glittered in the purplish-blue sky, and the moon—nearly full and shimmering gold—hung low on the horizon. The dark silhouette of Volcan Maderas loomed large behind it all. After about an hour of hanging on to the rails on the truck bed, we arrived in San Jose. It was a fiesta all right. There were strobe lights, 15 speakers (2 would probably have sufficed), and everyone was decked out and dancing. After maybe an hour or so of this, I really began to wonder… so when does the Miss Gay Ometepe pageant begin?

Finally the contestants took the dance floor. In addition to Harry, there were 3 other men vying for the Miss Gay Ometepe title. Harry’s first outfit was sort of a glittery red gown, while the others were more scantily clad in belly-baring halter tops and scandalously short skirts. Below is a photo of the 4 contestants. Harry is on the far right, modeling for the camera. Alvaro (the field station manager) is dressed in khaki and standing in the middle.
"Cassandra"

There are a few Gringos in the crowd. Can you spot the Ragfields?

After a brief introduction of the candidates, the music started blaring again and everyone (well, not Rob and me) took to the dance floor. A bit before this, Rob and I had noticed that there were two police officers milling about the party (one had a machine gun, the other had a pistol). “Let’s hope they’re not from the Catholic Church,” Rob said. Alvaro spoke with the police officers and told us that they said the swimsuit competition would not be permitted. I guess this is sort of what happened last week, only that instead of out-lawing just the swimsuit competition, they refused to let any of the pageant proceed.

Harry makes friends with the policeWell, maybe Alvaro had it wrong about the swimsuit competition because next thing we knew, the contestants began parading out in bikinis. That was a sight. We didn’t take any pictures of that because it actually seemed kind of dirty. Harry—whose stage name was Wendy—was much more conservatively dressed. Here is a photo below. (For other Futurama aficionados, we thought he looked like Coilette, of Robonia.)

The swimsuit competition was followed by another interlude of loud music and dancing, and then round 3 of the pageant—the question and answer session—began. I thought Harry’s response was poignant. His question had something to do with the issue of discrimination, and his response included a powerful explanation about how he wanted to participate in the pageant to bring focus to the gay community and to foster understanding. Well, at least that’s what I got from it. The candidates also performed a dance to the song “I Will Survive,” sung in Spanish (Yo viviré) by the woman (well, actually the man) who is wearing the short red dress.

Harry with adoring fans in the background

There was more dance-party dancing by all the party’s attendees while the judges tabulated the results. I should point out that by this point it was quite obvious that Harry was a clear favorite, at least of the crowd. I think half of Mérida must have somehow trucked over there just to scream and shout and cheer for him. I’m not sure how exactly the results were tabulated, but before I knew it, Harry was called to the front of the stage and the judges placed a sparkling tiara on his head. Harry was the new Miss Gay Ometepe 2007!

Harry gave a brief speech, indicating that all of the pageant’s participates were winners; there were no losers, and then the loud dance party resumed with gusto. Rob and I finally got home a little before 2:30 in the morning, so needless to say, I am not going out to the forest today. I think all that fresh (and dusty) night air I got while riding in the back of the truck gave me another eye infection, so I’m hoping to dose up on the anti-biotics and be able to go out to the forest tomorrow. At any rate, it was a very interesting experience last night. It was a little weird, because I have a lot of gay friends, and I can't imagine any of them wanting to dress up as women and participate in a beauty pageant, but I figure, this is how Harry wants to express himself, so more power to him. Nicaraguans seem to love beauty pageants of all forms—even when the contestants are all gay men dressed up as women. I was glad to see so many people—both gay and straight—out there supporting Harry and the other contestants. It was a little perplexing though, considering that “machismo” is so prevalent in this country. But this investigation would be a job for the cultural anthropologists; I’m happy just sticking to the monkeys for now.

Thanks for reading!

Best Vacation Ever

2007-05-29T22:54:00.000-06:00

Number of Ticks removed: 39
Days Tick-free: 4

We’ve made it home from what was possibly the Best Vacation Ever. The trip was great before it ever even started. A while ago I may have mentioned that my watch stopped working (this I need for taking my data at 2 minute intervals); Rob and I actually found a battery for the watch in Moyogalpa. While we were waiting for the ferry, Rob put in the new battery, and my watch started working again, so I am back in business. Once we made it to the mainland, we stopped in Rivas where, after a very long and complicated (and at times, vomitous) process that spans approximately 3 years, I was finally able to acquire a copy of my research permit for this project. I’m just hoping that this is better late than never.

From Rivas we took a bus to the town of Masaya, and then took a taxi to the nearby Laguna de Apoyo. The place is absolutely beautiful and the Proyecto Ecologico is absolutely amazing. In addition to being a research station, it is also a Spanish school where travelers come to learn the language for a week or two at a time. The conditions were extremely rustic, but the ambiance definitely made up for it. Plus, the food was really great. On Thursday (24 May) when we arrived, they had vegetarian stir fry, complete with tofu for dinner. Believe you me, I savored every proteinaceous bite. Plus, the next morning for breakfast, there was actual cereal. It was some kind of granola/museli thing that had lots of crunchy bits and raisins, and though I normally shun dairy products, I couldn’t help but eat it doused in milk—it was delicious.

After breakfast on Friday (25 May), Rob and I went out to the forest with a guy named Pablo (neither of the 2 Pablos I have written about before), who is a university student and also sort of runs the Proyecto Ecologico, plus he is an expert in plants and birds. Unfortunately, we did not find the monkeys, but I could have told you that 9:00 in the morning is the worst time to try to find them. At any rate, Rob and I went swimming in the Laguna in the afternoon. The UNAN (Universidad Nacional Autonoma de Nicaragua) students arrived from Managua on Friday afternoon as well. I got to meet Maria-Teresa, the student who wants to study howler monkeys for her thesis. Just to recap, the whole reason I went to Laguna de Apoyo was to teach methodology to Nicaraguan student(s) who want to do projects on monkeys. They’ve had a bit of biology background, but do not have anyone to really show them how to collect primate behavioral data, so that was my job.
Melissa by the laguna

At any rate, Maria-Teresa was extremely motivated to find the monkeys and learn how to collect data, so the next morning (Saturday 26 May), she and Pablo and I left at 5:00am to get started. We found the monkeys without too much difficulty, and Maria-Teresa and I stayed with them for several hours going over the data collection process. There are definitely plenty of monkeys in the area, but doing a project there will be quite a challenge. The terrain is extremely difficult. Picture a perfectly vertical wall. That is what it is like. After 2 days in the forest, my arms hurt so bad from pulling myself up the side of the volcano. But coming down was worse. At times you can be on your feet, but often the only way you can do it is just to slide down on your behind. I don’t think I could ever do a project in that location, but Maria-Teresa is undeterred, so more power to her. She is really a remarkable person. What is really remarkable is that she suffered through an entire day of my rudimentary Spanish and we somehow worked out a data collection protocol for her project.

On Saturday night, a British guy and American girl who were students in the Spanish school made a really fantastic dinner for all of us. One of the things they fixed was a fabulous and super-spicy vegetarian coconut curry—oh that was so good. Plus, someone had brought some wine, which really hit the spot. It was a really great night. I spent some more time talking with the director of the field station—a U.S. biologist who has so many stories about Nicaraguan flora and fauna, and someone I can hopefully continue to collaborate with in the future.

On Sunday (27 May) Rob and I decided to leave Proyecto Ecologico for the nearby town of Masaya. Before, I had only been to Masaya to visit its huge and famous artisan market (if you want to shop for Nicaraguan souvenirs, this is the place to do it), but once I actually had a chance to explore the town proper, I fell in love with it. Seriously, I was looking for apartments for rent. Maybe I was just a little starved for an actual city after so many months in extremely rural conditions, but whatever the reason, I really enjoyed the time we spent in Masaya. On Sunday afternoon, Rob and I went to the malecón to admire the view of the lake and the Volcan Masaya in the distance. We also went over to the hammock district, where I looked in every single shop to find the perfect hammock that I now have no idea how we will transport back to the U.S. Actually, we got two from the same family. I love these Nicarguan shops. Its not a big impersonal store like you would go into in the U.S.—these are actually peoples’ homes and you are kind of like in their living room, looking through their display of hammocks. After our tour of the hammock district, we went on to the artisan market where I did more shopping, but mainly admiring, of Nicaraguan handi-crafts.

Rob in the hammock district
Masaya Volcano

Rob was delighted to find an actual Subway restaurant in Masaya—who would have thought! That made for a good afternoon snack, and then for dinner we found a Tele Pizza that, according to Rob, served “not terrible pizza” (that is pretty much the highest pizza compliment Rob can award in Nicaragua).

The hotel we were staying at in Masaya (Hotel Maderas) was a really cute little place, and the owners were very friendly. Like all Nicaraguan hospedajes, the hotel was just an extension of the owners’ home—the “reception desk” was pretty much in their living room, and the whole family was often perched out there watching TV. In a totally random occurrence, it turned out that one of the girls Rob and I had just met at the Spanish school was actually living in an apartment right next to the hotel. So we hung out with her and her boyfriend on Sunday night and ended up having a really great time.

On Monday (28 May), Rob and I went to Masaya Volcano National Park. It was a short bus ride from town, and then a fairly step walk up to the “visitors center.” The visitors center was seriously amazing though. It could have been an art museum in itself. Someone who is at least as talented as DaVinci had painted all these completely amazing, very detailed murals of the volcanoes and various important ecological areas in Nicaragua. The artwork was so beautiful, I was content to walk around the museum for more than an hour. The main attraction of the park, though, is the active Santiago Crater of the Masaya Volcano. Its another 4km up from the visitors center, on a smooth paved road. Most tourists who visit the park have cars, but not us obviously. We started the arduous trek by foot, but luckily, some type of forest-ranger service vehicle picked us up on the way and took us to the top. Once we reached the summit, I couldn’t breathe without coughing, and the forest rangers made everyone put on gas masks because the sulfur fumes were so bad. The whole thing was a very surreal experience. Looking into this smoky, eery crater, and then seeing the other tourists with these alien-like gas masks on made the whole thing seem somehow other-worldly. But still, gazing into the mouth of an active volcano is something that just about can’t be topped.
Santiago Crater
Lava field from explosion in 1772

We came back from Masaya today (Tuesday 29 May). The UNAN student Pablo, who I had met at Laguna de Apoyo, also ended up traveling to Ometepe with us. After seeing his expertise in plants, I had invited him to come to Ometepe to help me identify some of the tree species I am uncertain about. The next couple of days, I’m going to have him go out in the forest with me and identify trees.

Its been a long trip and perhaps an even longer journey back to Ometepe after the trip; for the moment, I need to go and get myself rested for this plant expedition tomorrow. Will write more when I have a chance, thanks for reading!

On the road again

2007-05-23T15:35:00.000-06:00

Number of Ticks removed: 37
Days Tick-free: 0

Resulting from a series of serendipitous events, Rob and I are hitting the road tomorrow. A few weeks ago, I got an email completely out of the blue from a U.S. scientist running a research station out of Laguna de Apoyo. Somehow he’d come across the howler predation report that I wrote after the dog attacks on my monkeys. He ended up inviting me to the research station to help some Nicaraguan university students who are beginning a project on howler monkeys at the reserve. At this research station, they primarily study birds and fish, and they need someone who knows how to collect primate field data to come out and help design methodology for the Nicaraguan students starting the howler project. That turns out to be me! Let’s hope I know what I’m doing. I am just about bouncing off the walls excited about all of this. Seriously, I didn’t even know there was a research station at Laguna de Apoyo. Now I’ve got a chance collaborate with the people working there; it’s a great opportunity. To make it even better, there also happens to be a botany student at Apoyo right now who can identify the plant samples I’ve been collecting all these long months—so that cuts out a trip to the national herbarium in Léon.

Anyway, Rob and I will be leaving tomorrow to go to Laguna de Apoyo. We’ve actually been there before—its sort of in between Granada and Masaya, and we made a quick trip there on our way home for Christmas. Its an ancient volcano whose crater has somehow collapsed and filled with water to become a deep lagoon—in fact, the bottom of the lake is supposed to be the lowest point in Central America (or something to that effect). Rob is excited about all the bike riding possibilities that the area affords, and I am excited about checking out the monkeys and relaxing by the Laguna. After finishing this month’s data collection, I am in desperate need of a break. Unfortunately, we just found out that that there is some type of Gay Pride festival on Ometepe this weekend, so we will have to miss that. (Harry, bless his heart, personally invited us). Dang. Maybe next year.

One thing is that I am hoping there are less ticks in the forests surrounding Laguna de Apoyo. Yesterday I removed four, count them, four ticks. This is getting to be a bit much. Ticks had been a problem December through February, but then they tapered off. Unfortunately, they have returned in May with a vengeance. I put bug spray on, but it doesn’t seem to deter them (even though the bottle indicates that it is a tick-repellant). Of course, who knows how many ticks I would have if I didn’t use the spray. Last night, I woke up at 2am feeling something crawling on me. By now, I am so used to waking up feeling something crawling on me that I can usually even tell what type of thing it is before seeing it. This time, I was certain that it was tick(s), and sure enough, it was. I woke Rob up and by flashlight (there was no power), he helped me pull off 3 ticks. That was in addition to the one I’d already removed in the afternoon. What is the deal?! I am getting seriously freaked out. All I can think of is Amy’s college roommate’s mother, who had Lyme’s disease, and how awful that was. I really don’t know if these types of ticks carry diseases; if they do, I’m afraid I’m a goner. Maybe my entomologist sister-in-law can take a look at these little buggers when she is here next month, but really, I am hoping that tick season is finally gone for good by then.

Just one more thing and then I promise I’ll sign off. Below are some photos of my new friend; I call her Lucy. She joined us for breakfast this morning. Rob is here for breakfast much more often than I am, so he sees her around a lot. He says she has a special fondness for toothpicks, of all things. I guess she thought I had a kind heart, so she followed us back to the room after breakfast. I gave her part of a cracker, which she loved, and one of the cleaning ladies (Sonya) got her to eat a mango right out of her hand! A little bit later this afternoon, I heard chattering outside our window, and sure enough, Miss Lucy was right there. I offered her some peanuts, but she turned up her nose at that and went on her way. Now that Rob and I are going away for a few days, I wonder if she’ll remember us when we come back?

Thanks for reading; I will try to take lots of pictures of Laguna de Apoyo and write about that when we get home.

Not the Monkey Mother of the Year

2007-05-21T20:03:00.000-06:00

Today I was with the South group, watching an adult female with a 3-4 month old infant. Towards the end of the day, the monkey mom took off towards a patch of fruiting Cecropia trees and began to eat. Unfortunately, she left her baby behind. At such a young age, the baby could not leap across the tree gaps (of which there were many), so she was pretty much stuck. She cried and screeched for her mom to come and retrieve her, but the mom paid absolutely no attention and just continued on her merry way, eating Cecropia fruit. I stayed with the baby to see what she would do. She tried to go after her mom, but there were just so many gaps and the poor dear was too little to jump. At one particularly large gap, she stood there, looking and looking for a way she could get to the next tree, but there was none. Finally, she shimmied down the trunk and walked on the ground! What a sight that was, to see this itty bitty little monkey just trotting along the forest floor. The intensity of her alarm calls indicated that she was pretty freaked out. She had to go to the ground 2 more times to get to the area where her mother was foraging. Thank goodness there were no dogs around.

When the baby finally reached her mother, she tried to climb on mom’s back, which is the usual mode of transportation for infants this age. But the mom was having none of that. She snapped at her baby and kept shoving her off her back. I was outraged! The mom continued leaping across tree gaps and ravenously consuming her afternoon meal, while the poor baby desperately tried to follow her. This mean monkey mom is certainly not going to win any mother of the year awards!

That’s going to have to be it for now, I’ve got to get myself together for another long day in the forest tomorrow. Thanks for reading!

Playa Santa Cruz

2007-05-19T20:53:00.000-06:00

Number of ticks removed: 32
Days tick-free 0

Despite the all night power outage (very hot, no fan) and this morning’s discovery of my 32nd tick (embedded in my shoulder), its been a really great day. Sleeping in past 4:15am and getting a real sit-down breakfast of oatmeal, mangos, and coffee would have been enough for me to consider it stellar, but it got even better. As Rob and I were trying to come up with a fun outing for the day, we decided to ride bikes over to the beach at Santa Cruz. During the past couple of months, they’ve been working on the road around the island, and its a lot smoother than when we first arrived. With big, loud tractors, they have grated down those jagged boulders, so now the road is mainly just dust and gravel. It makes for a much smoother ride. The hills are still there, but I don’t mind a challenge. Its actually a lot of fun when you are not careening from rock to rock, certain at any moment that you will fly off the bike and land teeth first on the road.

We ate lunch at a place called El Encanto (seriously, visit the website; it will make you want to come to Ometepe and stay there!). The view from El Encanto was beautiful, and the lunch was so good; it was really nice to have something different for a change. After lunch, we continued on to the beach, and we pretty much had the whole thing to ourselves. When we first got into the lake, it felt as warm bathwater, but after a few minutes, it was so nice and cool compared to the air outside. I actually began to feel cold for the first time in months. It was great! I decided that we need to visit the beach more often. Now that the road is fixed, its only a nice half-hour bike ride away, with just enough hills thrown in to keep it interesting.

Here are a few pictures of the volcanoes and us on our bikes at the beach.
Maderas

Don't I look like my sister in this picture?

Rob on bike

Concepción

One more thing: good news, Rob’s dad is back at home and doing well! We are very relieved that he is on the road to recovery. Get well soon!

Thanks for reading.

A boy named Mabel

2007-05-16T19:36:00.000-06:00

Number of Ticks Removed: 31
Days Tick-free: 5

The scent of rain woke me up in the night. I looked at the clock and saw it was 3:50am, just about 30 minutes from when I needed to get up. The first drops began to tap on the roof, and within a few moments it sounded like someone was pouring buckets of water from the sky. The power went out, and without the low hum of the fan, there was nothing to do but listen to the sound of the rain and wonder if it would quit by the time I needed to leave for the forest. The past several nights, dark clouds have rolled in around sunset and there has been thunder and lightening, but no rain. Aside those few brief unexpected April showers, it has been oppressively hot and dry. The start of the rainy season is supposed to be mid-May, and as I listened to the pre-dawn storm this morning, I thought, “Well, here we are.”

Nonetheless, the rain (which amounted to only 0.9 cm) subsided by the time I left for the forest. The path I took up to the volcano was barely even muddy, and by 9am, all traces of the early morning rain had been sucked dry by the relentless sun.

I’ve spent the past several days with the North Group. Early Monday morning, I found them low on the Camino—it really did seem like they were waiting for me, because just after I arrived, they took off for the Mango Patch. My focal animal for the day was Horace, a young juvenile who has been weaned since about December or January. Much to my surprise, I discovered that Horace’s mother, Matilda, had a brand new little baby clinging to her. At least, I am pretty sure that it was Horace’s mom because Horace never left her side all week. He didn’t really seem overly interested in the baby itself, but he did seem to want to remain close to that ever-present source of comfort: Mom. At any rate, I named the baby Toby. It was really interesting to watch all the interactions surrounding the new baby. As with other newborns I have observed, all the other females in the group kept crowding around trying to touch, smell, or lick the baby. Poor Matilda could barely get any rest. Maybe I’m anthropomorphizing too much, but a few times I swear that Horace helped out his mom by insinuating himself between her and the peering, pawing females. Here’s a picture of Matilda with Toby (just a little patch of gold) on her belly:

On Tuesday, the North Group remained at the Mango Patch. There were about 4 horses up there grazing most of the day as well; when the monkeys dropped mangos, the horses would rush over to eat the scraps. It was a nice kind of relationship I suppose. The monkeys did not appear agitated at all by the horses, and the horses could not reach the mangos up high in the tree, so it was good for them that the monkeys are so clumsy and drop so many mangos. At any rate, I followed Wilma and Mabel all day. Wilma is a tough old bird, and Mabel is a little baby I noticed with her in early March. The first name that popped into my head was Mabel, so that’s what I called it. Now, whenever I name an infant, I don’t know what its sex is. At first I tried to give sort of gender-neutral names, but eventually I just started alternating between boyish names and girlish names. In the ensuing 2 months since Mabel’s birth, I have since realized that Mabel is a boy. Try as I might, I cannot change his name. So what we are left with is a boy called Mabel.

I got some fairly good pictures up in the Mango Patch. Here are Wilma and Mabel:

A female enjoying a tasty mango:

Today the monkeys left the Mango Patch and returned to more familiar territory. I followed dear old Wrinkle Belly and was actually able to get one of my best photos of him yet. He was foraging and came down so low that we were practically eye to eye. Here he is, getting ready to take a bite of these vine leaves:

Thanks to everyone for sending out healing wishes to Rob’s dad. He is doing well, so we are much relieved, but keep the good vibes coming please.

And a big congratulations to Martin, or should I call him Dr. Martin, who defended his dissertation today. Hooray for you Martin. All of the Anthro crowd is out there right now partying like there’s no tomorrow. Wish I could be there to help celebrate!

All right, this is more than enough writing for one night. Thanks for reading.

The Case of the Missing Juveniles, etc

2007-05-10T21:39:00.000-06:00

Number of Ticks Removed: 30
Days Tick Free: 0

Just to back up to where I left off: Homeboy Rodolfo didn’t show up last Friday, which didn’t actually surprise me all that much. Note to self: do not pay in advance (I know, I know, but he claimed to really need bus fare…). At any rate, it wasn’t that big of a deal. To tell you the truth, I was so worn out that I’m not sure I was up to it anyway. I didn’t even want to test the leaves I’d collected as part of my “if-Rodolfo-doesn’t-show-up” contingency plan. But I thought S.L. would be aghast if I just wasted the day sleeping, so I set up the Toughness Tester and got to work. It was as if the machine somehow sensed that I was in such a fragile mood that I might actually throw it into the lake if it didn’t work properly, because the thing gave me perfect, beautiful toughness values. My faith in the machine has been restored.

I’ve spent this week with the South Group, and its been pretty standard: easy all-day follows, no big surprises. While I was watching the monkeys sleep yesterday, I noticed that a beetle had gotten trapped in a spider’s web right beside me. It seems like for every season, there is a different kind of spider (except for the height of the dry season, when there were none). Right now, even though its still really dry, we’ve got this kind of spider that lives in a little hole underground and builds a very thick, funnel shaped web up to the surface. Well, I saw a beetle fly right into one of those funnel webs and it was sure stuck. It struggled and struggled, all the while just getting more tangled. At one point, I saw the spider emerge from its hole for just a second and peer up at the prey. I really did not want to see that thing come up and finish off the beetle, so I decided that I must free the beetle. With my machete, I carefully excavated the poor little guy from the sticky, sticky web. The beetle was still covered with that super-adherent web even after I got it out. I did my best to wipe off the strands, but the beetle did not like me cleaning it off any more than it had liked being stuck in the web. I ended up dropping the beetle while it was still all covered in web, and it disappeared into the leaf-litter on the forest floor. So I am not sure what happened to the little beetle, but I certainly hope it escaped and has gone on to have a lovely life.

One thing I have noticed this week is that the South Group (that of Uno and of a male I recently named Funny Nose, on account of his funny nose) seems to be doing better than the North Group in terms of juveniles and infants. The South Group has got 3 weanlings (foraging on their own, but still nursing several times a day), one slightly older juvenile who may already be weaned, and 3 smaller infants that still travel on their mothers and get most of their nutrients from milk. So that’s a total of 7 “pre-adults” (to borrow a term that I think S.L. himself coined) in the South. The North Group is down to 4 total: the already weaned Horace and Buster (note: Buster is actually a female), and the infants Stacy and Mabel (whose sex I have not yet been able to determine). According to my notes, this means that 4 of the North Group pre-adults have gone missing. Obviously, I know that one of the infants died as a result of the dog attacks. This was likely the December infant I had called Scooby. But that still leaves 3 whose whereabouts are unknown. One of the missing pre-adults is little Spud, who would be near 6 months old and reaching locomotor independence about now. So, I don’t know what’s been going on with the North Group. At the beginning of the study, I thought that the North Group had a better diet and that their infants/juveniles would have a better chance of surviving. But now it seems like, despite its scrappy territory, the South Group must be doing something right.

The ever-earlier rising sun has got me more exhausted than ever, so I was glad when I was able to collect some interesting plant samples yesterday and then spend the day today testing them. I was really excited about sleeping in, but unfortunately I woke up at 4:20am anyway. Why is it that on a day when I have to get up at that time, the sound of the alarm makes me cry, but on a day when I get to sleep in, I am wide awake and ready to go? At least instead of having to jump out of bed and blearily get ready to go out to the forest, I eventually fell back asleep again. When I got up at a more reasonable hour and put the toughness tester together, it was still behaving perfectly, so I got a lot of data. I think even S.L. would be proud.

Just one more thing. Readers of the blog, please lend your thoughts, best wishes, prayers, etc, to Rob’s dad, who is having surgery tomorrow. We are sorry we can’t be there during this difficult time, and we are wishing him the speediest recovery possible. Thanks for reading.

Rainy season, interrupted

2007-05-03T20:11:00.000-06:00

Number of Ticks Removed: 28
Days Tick Free: 0
Tick season wasn’t over, it was just on a break. And now it has resumed with a different kind of tick.

Today, among other things, is my sister and her husband’s wedding anniversary. Its hard to believe that a whole year has passed since we all stood on the beach for the ceremony; so many things have happened in a year.

I thought that for sure the wet season had begun in earnest because all night long I heard rain pouring down. When the alarm clock went off at 4:25 in the morning, I almost just rolled over and went back to sleep. But then I thought, I might as well try it. And its a good thing I did, because as it turns out, it wasn’t actually raining at all. I guess the irrigation system was malfunctioning or something, because all night water had been shooting out of one of the pipes in the banana patch beside our room. It just sounded like rain, but outside of the banana patch, the ground was bone dry.

I went to the forest by way of what I call the “Secret Camino”—its a steeper path on the north side of the forest, and it isn’t really a secret, I just happened to discover it by accident one day in September or October when the monkeys were over that way. Since the North Group has been hanging out in that area again, the Secret Camino is a much more direct route to get there. Its a beautiful path, really, but its so steep that while I am climbing it, I sometimes slip and slide back down little ways, and when I am descending it, I almost surely end up traveling on my rear end for a bit. But its so beautiful. This morning while I was climbing I paused briefly to look down below and admire the view the lake, the purplish pre-dawn sky, and the bright full moon. It doesn’t get much better than this.

The monkeys were exactly where I’d left them the night before, still fast asleep when I got to them just about 20 after 5. They slept and slept. The sun rose, and still they slept. The birds sang boisterously and the day became hot and bright, and still the monkeys slept. I kept thinking, I wish they had told me that they planned on sleeping in today, because I could have slept in myself and still made it to the forest before they got up. Finally about 7:30 they began moving a little bit and started having their breakfast of Bersara flower buds. They were done with that by 8:00, and they proceeded to sleep again for the rest of the day. My focal animal only roused momentarily for a brief love affair around 2:00pm, but she didn’t move or eat anything else until 4:00 this afternoon. It was a lazy, lazy day. I guess the monkeys must have been all tired out after their two big travel days in a row, up in the northernmost corridor with the precious mangos.

I’d taken along my rain jacket, just in case the rainy season did decide to begin for real, but it was just another dry, hot day. Tomorrow I have supposedly arranged to have Rodolfo (yes the Rodolfo) come out to the forest with me to help me with ecological sampling (tree identification and whatnot). Now, he might have a bit of a checkered past, but he does know the trees very, very well. And at the very least, if he doesn’t show up, I managed to get a sample of some Albizia leaves the monkeys ate late in the day, so I could always just stay in and use the toughness tester instead.

Thanks for reading.

May Day

2007-05-01T20:32:00.000-06:00

First, happy May Day to all. Hopefully some of you had a chance to make May baskets and dance around a May pole. I was back out in the forest again after a mini-vacation the last few days of April. Whenever its been a couple of days since I’ve been out to the forest, I’m always anxious about what I may find. But the monkeys were waiting for me, just as though they had been wondering why I hadn’t shown up for a while. They were sleeping low along the Camino, where I would be sure to find them. They hung out for a while, and then around 7 or 8, they started their circuitous route ever northward—finally ending in that heavenly Mango Patch I discovered them in last week.

So, it was a great start to a new month of data collection. It also seems that the dry season has finally ended. Ever since we got that little bit of a rain shower last week, the land has lost its parched look, and the sweltering heat has abated somewhat. I am enjoying this transition to the wet season—its before the path up to the forest becomes a river of mud, before the mosquitoes and spiders return, before I become constantly wet and cold in the forest, before the time when my shoes never seem to dry out. For the moment it is just nice to have merciful clouds in the sky that help to tone down the sun.

Morning is arriving earlier and earlier these days, so I've got to go and try to get some sleep. Thanks for reading, until later.

The Mango Patch

2007-04-27T13:21:00.000-06:00

Its been quite a week. On Monday a whole bunch of things went wrong. First of all, when I got up at 4:30am to get ready to go out to the forest, there was no running water. This happens fairly often during the dry season, but still, its annoying. Then, the kitchen door was locked, so I had to break in through the window to get the provisions I’d packed for the day. Once inside the kitchen, I discovered that someone had eaten about half of the fruit I’d packed in my little Tupperware container. What was the deal?! Could nothing go right on this day?

Oh but that was not the end of it. Once in the forest, my watch stopped working about 10 minutes after I’d started collecting data on the South Group. This is a pretty essential piece of equipment for the project. The way I collect data is to set the timer on my watch to beep every 2 minutes, and each time it beeps, I record a data point of the monkeys’ behavior—sort of like taking a “snapshot” at 2 minute intervals. Now, I have a spare watch, it just wasn’t with me because I wasn’t aware that this one was in imminent danger of demise. I briefly considered coming back for my other watch, but it would have been at least an hour and 15 minute trek to get there and back, so I decided that it just wasn’t feasible. Don’t tell the real primatologists out there—but I just decided to make do. I thought I would still be able to get useful data in terms of recording what they ate and how they ate it, just not the 2-minute snapshots of their activities.

So I proceeded to watch the monkeys. As I followed them through a particularly viney area, I felt a sharp stinging pain on my arm and looked down to see that I had brushed up against some kind of Nicaraguan poison ivy. This has happened before. On the plus side, at least I got a good look at the plant this time so I know what to avoid in the future. From previous experience, I also know that if I clean off the area with alcohol right away, it neutralizes the damage. So, I took care of it and was none the worse for wear.

I thought surely, this will be the end of it. Unfortunately, it wasn’t. Towards mid-afternoon, I started to feel sick. Really really sick. Like sick to my stomach, sick. The monkeys became secondary to my primal goal of survival, and I left the forest. I spent the rest of the afternoon alternately vortexing and sleeping, thinking that there was no way I’d be in any shape to go out the next day or possibly even the day after.

But somehow I recovered. I got myself together and went out again on Tuesday—and it’s a really good thing I did. I found the North Group on the Camino just as they were about to make an incredibly big move. All morning they traveled and traveled. They took a twisting, winding route, but I began to have this suspicion that we would end up on Spondias Lane, where they packed up and left last November when the trees ran out of fruit. The Spondias trees are not fruiting now, but they are all sprouting young and tender leaves that howler monkeys are supposed to love to eat. (I don’t blame them-- I’ve tasted young Spondias leaves and they are quite good!). Well, we did end up on Spondias Lane, but only briefly. They stopped to snack on some young Spondias leaves, and then they were on the move again. They traveled and traveled until I saw in the distance—mango trees. I thought, “You have got to be kidding.” Several local people have alluded to this mythical patch of mango trees in the forest and have told me that my monkeys would journey there at some point—May or June most likely. But I only half believed them. From their description, these mango trees were far, far away, and while I didn’t doubt that some groups of monkeys would feast on the unripe fruits, I did doubt that it would be my troop that went all the way up there. Little did I know! It was virtually monkey heaven. The mango trees formed part of a “live fence”—that is, they had been planted in a line that must have demarcated a property boundary, and just beyond the trees were empty fields. There were 13 mango trees all in a row; the monkeys fanned out and feasted for hours.

I thought surely that by the end of the day, they would return back to more familiar parts, but they did not. They took off again, in the opposite direction that I expected, and they followed another corridor of trees between a pasture and a plantain field. If Wrinkle Belly himself wouldn’t have been there, I never would have believed that these were my monkeys, so far away from home.

On Wednesday morning, I found them exactly where I’d left them on Tuesday night. They quickly proceeded along the corridor, but I’m not really sure why. There didn’t seem to be any foods up there that wouldn’t have been otherwise available in their regular range, but there sure was another group of monkeys who wanted to keep them away. Every once and a while, some monkey from the North Group would venture a little farther in to the corridor, and then a monkey from the other group would howl and chase them back. I even saw Wrinkle Belly get in a little skirmish, but no worries—he emerged unscathed.

At any rate, the North Group slunk back down the corridor on Wednesday evening, and they slept by those 13 mango trees that had begun this whole journey. They spent the entire day on Thursday in the vicinity of the mango patch. There was a great commotion around mid-day as another group (possibly the same one they’d skirmished with the day before) tried to move into the territory. But the ferocious howls of Wrinkle Belly et al held them at bay. Late in the afternoon, the sky clouded over and it began to rain—then to really pour. I guess this is foreshadowing the rainy season to come. Its been dry so long that I forgot how rain felt. The air became deliciously cool, and I stretched my arms out to soak up as much water as I could. For the first time in months, I felt hydrated. Everything in the forest started to look a little greener and less sharp. As the rain subsided, the North Group monkeys had one last meal of unripe mangos and then they began their descent. They traveled and traveled, finally reaching Spondias Lane and refueling with some young Spondias leaves before they continued on their way. As the sun was setting, they were poised right on the edge of the forest patch where Simeon and I found them on the very first day. So it was a long strange journey, but the monkeys ended up back where they’ve always been. I have a feeling they will revisit this mango patch, and at least now after having followed them up there, I will know where to look.

Its been a long week and a long month; I'll be taking a rest from the forest for a couple of days. Thanks for reading! Until later then.

Happy Earth Day

2007-04-22T14:13:00.000-06:00

Its been a while since I’ve posted anything because really, what could I say in the wake of the incident by the mango tree? I’ve just kept on doing the same old things: observing the monkeys in the forest, cutting up leaves with the toughness tester, etc. But all the while, I've kept thinking about that baby monkey I couldn't save.

At any rate, Rob and I realized that today is Earth Day, so I thought that warranted a blog entry from me. I hope everybody at home is out planting a tree. In honor of Earth Day, I thought I would include a little list I’ve made about my observations on the Dry/Windy season here on Ometepe. Most of you who know me well know that I really like making lists. Not grocery lists or “to do” lists—I actually hate making those. But I like making quirky lists such as this. For reference: in this part of Nicaragua, we receive approximately 1300mm of rain per year, falling mainly from May through November. The remaining time (December through mid-May) is extremely hot, extremely dry, and often extremely windy.

How to know it’s the dry/windy season:

• You turn on the faucet or try to flush the toilet and nothing happens.

• You wake up and there is a dust bunny in your hair.

• Your contact lens blows off your finger while you are trying to put it in your eye (this happened in Jan 2004).

• The lettuce from your salad blows off your plate at dinnertime.

• There is significantly more grit in the bread, rice, beans, lettuce, etc.

• Things hitting the walls wake you up in the night.

• Things blowing off the shelves in your room wake you up at night.

• You are always covered in dust.

• The puddles in the road dry up.

• Your clothes dry in about 2 hours.

• Everyones’ eyes are red all the time.

• There is puke on the ferry.

• There is your puke on the ferry.

• There are no spiders, anywhere.

• By 11am, the water in your bottle is so hot that you could boil tea with it.

• Howlers fall more often because the dry, brittle branches they are traveling on break.

• Early/mid dry season: you are covered in thorns, ticks, and burrs.

• Late dry season: the cicadas are so loud you think you might go crazy.

• You actually get a fever if you are out between the hours of 8:00am to 4:00pm.

• Its so hot that the only thing you can compare it to is the rush of heat you feel when you open the oven door to take out a sheet of cookies. And it feels like that all the time.

• On the road, passing cars stir up so much dust that you can’t see anything for about 2 minutes after they go by.

• The water level in an 8,264 km2 lake has dropped 2 feet.

Anyway, thanks for reading and Happy Earth Day!

Another Incident by the Mango Tree

2007-04-13T21:17:00.000-06:00

Yesterday I found the monkeys right away along the Camino, in an area where both the North and South groups often forage. Once I sighted a familiar male I call Medio, I realized I was with the North group. The monkeys decided to spread themselves out quite a bit, and Medio's little subgroup traveled to one of their favorite locations: The Mango Tree. Aha, I thought. It is going to be a textbook day: eat unripe mangos, sleep, repeat.

This is precisely what they did for a while. Now before I go on, I've got to point out a few things. First, the Mango Tree is on the Gringo Property and is very close to where they are building their house. A crew of local guys comes in every morning to work on the house. From the Mango Tree I can plainly hear hammering, sawing, music playing, human conversations, and dogs barking. The other thing to point out is that the Mango Tree is where I found a dead howler 6 weeks ago-- a mystery that remains unsolved. If the monkeys have any lingering unpleasant memories of this incident, they have pushed them aside in favor of the apparently tasty unripe mangos. Both groups feed at this location, sometimes even at the same time, so it is often hard for me to tell who is who.

At any rate, after Medio's subgroup fed and rested for a couple of hours, I began to hear some scuffling a bit interior, even closer to the construction site. An infant was screeching over there, and the monkeys I was watching in the mango tree became quite agitated: running back and forth, howling, hooting, etc. Then dogs began barking, and there was quite a ruckus of howling and yowling for about 10 minutes. The dogs' barking became even more frantic, and I went towards the sound to see what was going on.

When I got there I saw 2 dogs growling over the body of a female howler. I charged at them, yelling "Fuera!" in my my meanest voice, and they ran away whimpering. The howler was motionless: already dead. She was bloodied at the throat, right flank, and hindquarters. I felt like I might puke. I hated those dogs-- they had looked fat and well-fed, not the sickly skinny kind that really needed a good meal.

I dug through the dirt with my hands to make a hole so I could bury her. Moving the howler to the burial hole without touching her was quite a challenge, but the plastic bags I'd brought for leaf sample collection served as makeshift gloves. It was without a doubt the grossest thing I've ever done. The temperature must have been close to a hundred degrees, and burning sweat was dripping into my eyes. I was covered in dirt that soon mixed with my sweat to become a mud-sheen.

As I covered the dead howler with dirt, I happened to glance up and saw an infant in the tree right above me. It must have been the infant I'd heard shrieking earlier. The poor little guy. This was a grim situation for sure. I wasn't certain of the age, but I suspected that it was one of the 2 December infants, so at most it was 4 months old. By this age, howlers are consuming some solid foods, but they derive the vast majority of their mutritional requirements from their mother's milk. In terms of locomotion, they frequently leave their mother to play and explore, but they almost always ride on her back when traveling within or between tree crowns. This little guy was at least 6 to 8 months too young to be able to survive without its mother. I didn't even want to think about what was going to happen.

I stayed and watched the infant. It kept giving alarm calls and retrieval calls (the sound infants make when they've gotten too far away from their mom and need her to come get them). Every time the infant called, the rest of the subgroup-- some 20-30m away in the Mango tree-- hooted anxiously. The infant somehow got itself into a huge Guanacaste tree. I surveyed the surroundings and realized that even if it had wanted to travel back to the others, it could not. There were too many gaps in the canopy that were just too wide for it to cross by itself.

After about three hours of crying, the infant seemed pretty worn out. It got quiet and just hung limply from a branch; its eyes were half closed and its mouth was half opened. This was not a good sign. Finally at 12:15, it fell off the branch and dropped to the ground with a very loud thud. I ran over to the infant; it was lying motionless but it was breathing and its eyes were opened. I tried to give it some water from my bottle, but it wouldn’t take any. Instinct kicked in and I scooped up the baby in my hat and began to race down the volcano. I talked to it constantly, making all sorts of wild promises. I told it to hang on and I would make sure that it had a lovely life.

When I got to the Hacienda, everyone was surprised to see me home in the middle of the day and when they saw that I was cradling a baby howler monkey in my arms, they were even more surprised. I relayed the story best that I could and told them to get me some milk. There are about a million cows on this island but nobody ever has fresh milk; they always use powdered. Doña Argentina went to the kitchen to stir up some powdered milk, and Daraysi momentarily disappeared only to return moments later with a baby bottle. When the milk was ready, I began to try to feed the baby—who I had since discovered was a male. He couldn’t really swallow and most of the milk just dribbled down his face. Whenever he got a little bit in him, he would kind of gasp and perk up and look at me but then he would sort of pass out again. Rob sat next to me and helped with the feeding. We discovered that the baby seemed to do better at taking water rather than milk, so we gave him a little bit of that just to try to get him hydrated again. We kept at it and finally got him revived. He was able to move around a bit, and his hands and feet—which had felt cold—started to feel a little bit warmer. He had himself a little accident (which got all over my hat), so we bathed him and got him all nice and clean. Afterwards, he clung to my shirt like he would have clung to his mother’s belly and fell asleep again.

It was really beginning to seem like he was going to make it. I was ecstatic but overwhelmed—now what was I going to do with a baby howler monkey?? I couldn’t have just left him on the forest floor to die, but now I didn’t know what to do with him. Even if he was strong enough, I wouldn’t be able to just release him back into the group. At his young age, he was still entirely dependent on his mother. Unless another female abandoned her own offspring and adopted him (not likely) he didn’t stand a chance. It was beginning to look like I was about to become this infant’s new mother.

The kitchen staff was all intently interested in the baby monkey, especially Alejandra. She held him and said that she would help be his mother. I thought, maybe this will work if we all take turns caring for the infant until we figure out what to do with him. Whenever the infant was awake, he was trying to climb and crawl around. He bit Alejandra on the thumb, and although I was horrified, she didn’t think it was any big deal. Daryasi was overcome by the baby monkey’s cuteness. While he was crawling around, she reached to pick him up and he bit her too. She shrieked, running away crying out, “Ay, el hijo de Melissa me mordió!” It was actually kind of funny. Getting bitten didn’t seem to deter Daraysi; in about 2 minutes she was back to hold him again, cooing, “Monito, bonito, congito, chicito, pobrecito…” I was pretty freaked out by the idea of getting bitten by a monkey, so I made sure to keep those little teeth away from me.

At any rate, I was pre-occupied with the infant all afternoon and evening yesterday. I emailed Martin, and he replied right away with suggestions and the name of a medicine we should give the monkey. At night Alejandra slept with the monkey in her arms; I didn’t see him again before I went out to the forest at 5 o’clock this morning. Although I wanted to stay in with the infant, I thought I should go back out and try to make sense of what was going on in the forest. When I got there, I found that something had scavenged the burial site, so all my digging in the hard-packed dirt with my bare hands had been for naught.

Meanwhile, Rob got up at 6am and rode his bike 18 kilometers to Altagracia, to the nearest pharmacy. He bought the medicine Martin said we needed to give the monkey and was back by 8:30. So I guess I wasn’t the only one who got attached to the baby yesterday.

Unfortunately, when I got home from the forest tonight, I found out the baby monkey had died. It happened just shortly after Rob returned from Altagracia with the medicine. Alejandra said that the baby had just clung to her all night and didn’t make any sound or movement. He took a little bit of water, but when she tried to give him milk, he wouldn’t swallow it and it just dribbled down his face. Before Rob could even give him any of the medicine he’d bought, the monkey was gone. I think back to the fall from the tree and remember how far the little guy fell and how hard he landed on the ground. Maybe he had internal injuries or something and couldn’t quite recover.

I have to admit, I am having a difficult time with this for many reasons. I am trying to tell myself that so many of us tried as hard as we could… but still. It shouldn’t have happened in the first place. Human actions in the forest are having—albiet unintentional—devastating effects on the monkeys. In the past 6 weeks, at least 3 monkeys have been killed either directly or indirectly by dogs that humans brought into the forest. At this rate, I wonder how many of my monkeys will be left by the end of this project. The monkeys are only vulnerable to dogs if they come to the ground, but I’ve noticed monkeys on the ground more and more often at this time of year. In the height of the dry season, many of the branches are brittle and dried out—so many times a branch will snap as a monkey is traveling across it, and the monkey falls to the ground or close to it. Terrestrial dangers are even more of a concern in heavily degraded areas, such as the one where the deaths occurred. In these scrappy, deforested patches, there are extensive gaps between the tree crowns and sometimes the monkeys have to come to the ground when the gap is too wide for them to jump. With dogs coming into the forest more frequently, this spells disaster for the monkeys.

I wish that this post had a happy ending, but I guess it just wasn’t to be. One thing to be happy about is that Wrinkle Belly is still alive and well. I’m just hoping that the monkeys stay up high in the trees and far away from the dogs from now on. Thanks for reading.

Safe and Sound

2007-04-09T21:20:00.000-06:00

Just a quick blog to let anyone out there who reads this know that we have arrived safe and sound back on Ometepe. Our trip was a bit harrowing, but I’m too tired to go into any detail. We arrived at the hacienda on Saturday night, and I still haven’t slept in or unpacked. I was over-eager to get back to the monkeys, so I’ve spent the last two days out in the forest, sweltering under the blistering tropical sun. Both days I’ve been with the South Group (that of Uno), so no report on WB yet. Tomorrow I plan on staying in (hooray, sleeping in past 4:40am!) to test some plant samples in the morning.

Thanks to friends and family for hosting us and going the extra mile at every occasion. Regretfully, I didn’t get to see any of the Anthro crowd; its amazing how fast time flies when you’ve only got a couple of days in each location.

Will blog more later when I’m caught up on sleep (ugh, that could be a while) or otherwise when something interesting happens. Oh, speaking of interesting things, a tourist told us that Concepción erupted yesterday… again. Over here on Volcan Maderas, we didn’t notice a thing!

Thanks again and miss you all. Until later then.

Aunting

2007-03-31T08:11:00.001-06:00

In certain primates, females other than an infant’s mother sometimes interact with the infant—doing things like carrying it, grooming it, etc. They call this “aunting behavior,” and I have been doing quite a bit of this myself lately. After arriving in the US, I spent several days with my sister and 10-week old nephew, being Auntie M. It was the best job ever. And little Logan is one of the cutest babies I’ve ever seen—even when he is crying (note the photo below). Auntie M did a fair share of crying herself when it was time to leave. By the next time I am home, I’m afraid he will be too old to want to be held and cuddled, so I tried to just do plenty of that now.

Just a few more days in the US, then its back to the monkeys. Thanks for reading!

Of Prodigal Dogs and Monkeys

2007-03-22T21:25:00.000-06:00

Here are some photos I took last week of Wrinkle Belly, that prodigal monkey who I thought had left me but has since returned.

Love the belly!

Sleeping WB

For contrast, here is a different male with all of his fur intact.

Tonight, my little dog Sally showed up at dinner for the first time since January. Usually when the stray dogs aren’t around for a while, that’s the end of the story. I hadn’t expected to see Sally again; then lo and behold, she showed up. I gave her some bread crust and petted her soft little head. Then I went and got my camera and she posed for a few shots. Sweet Sally.

Well, I’m going to assume that SL doesn’t read the blog and go ahead and say that I’m taking another little break from fieldwork. Tomorrow Rob and I are going to Managua and on Saturday we’re flying back to the US for a bit. I am extremely eager to meet my new nephew who was born in January and in general to have some respite from the jungle. So just in case SL is reading: no worries, I made sure I got all my March data (well, more or less) already, and I will be back in time to get all my April data and then some. Besides, Pablo always says do whatever it is you need to do both mentally and physically to get the project done. Seeing my family and friends every 4 months isn’t too much to ask, is it??

I’ll sign off with this photo of Volcan Maderas, my beloved Nicaraguan home. Thanks for reading.

Fifth Time's a Charm

2007-03-18T20:11:00.000-06:00

Rob and I decided to climb up to the waterfall in San Ramon again today. For me, it was the fifth time I’ve done it, and for Rob it was the third. Of course, we had to get to San Ramon first, which involved 3.8 km of biking roads like these: (actually only the first kilometer is this bad).

The hike up was not as hard as the volcano climb and quite lovely. Maybe about 2/3 of the way up, Rob and I encountered a group of capuchin monkeys. This pretty much made my day. I’ve never seen capuchins on my way to the waterfall before, so I guess the fifth time’s a charm.

Nothing will ever compare to the first time I saw the waterfall, but it is still beautiful each time I climb it:

After we finished the hike, Don Alberto (the cook at the Estación Biológica) made us super sweet lemonade (I think Alberto shows his love by the amount of sugar he adds to beverages).

It was a nice day, but I am thoroughly exhausted, so I will sign off for now. Thanks for reading.

Ides of March

2007-03-15T19:51:00.000-06:00

Thank you all so much for your comments on the last post! Basking in so much love and support really helped me get through this unfortunate bout with sea-sickness. However, the lingering effects of vertigo did take a few days to subside. We took the terrible boat trip on Saturday, and on Monday when I was out in the forest all day, I still felt horrible. I was not much better on Tuesday, and to make matters worse, I got a bee-sting on my bottom lip and was all swollen up. So I was in pretty rough shape. I don't know if I was still sea-sick or what, but I ended up throwing up all night long on Tuesday night. Dehydrated and groggy, I probably should have stayed in on Wednesday, but for some reason, I’d convinced myself that I needed to power through. The good news is that I think I’m finally over that. Strangely, it appears now that I have a cold. I have been sneezing and with a sore throat these past few days, and I am wondering how it is humanly possible to get a cold when it is nearly 100 degrees and bone dry every day. I took a few Airborne tablets that I brought from home and am trying to stay hydrated.

In other news, I have confirmed that Wrinkle Belly is indeed alive and well. Today he even had a girlfriend briefly. Its still been pretty hard to get a picture of him, but here’s the best I could do. WB is on the left, and his “girlfriend” is on the right.

I also got a really great close up of this juvenile, who was my focal animal of the day. His mom was Wrinkle Belly’s girlfriend, although yesterday she had been really interested in another male, so go figure.

And here is an infant, standing up on its mother’s back:

At some point while I was out in the forest today, I realized that it was the Ides of March, which made me remember reading Julius Caesar in sophomore English class, and those funny little dog cartoons Mrs. S (who we loved so much that we later called Mama S) drew to illustrate Shakespeare for us. (I have a lot of time for thinking and remembering things while I am out in the forest). Luckily, nothing dramatic happened today, it was just hot, hot, hot, hot. It is so unbelievably hot. It has always been hot in the forest, but now that we’re at the height of the dry season, the heat is out of this world. Between the hours of 8:30am and 4pm, I feel like I am literally boiling from the inside out. The monkeys remain motionless for a good 4-6 hours during the worst of it, and I just try to keep myself from going crazy. It is too hot to eat anything, it is too hot (and too thorny) to sit anywhere, it is even too hot to read. When I come home at the end of the day, it actually feels good to take a cold shower.

Tomorrow I am going to collect some ecological data on food availability (I do this every month); it should only take me about half the day. I am blissfully looking forward to sleeping in at least until sunrise and having a real breakfast. And I’m hoping that maybe a little extra sleep and some decent food will help me get over this “cold” or whatever it is. I will leave you with some pictures I took as I left the forest today. The monkeys had changed locations, so I went home a different way than usual. This route is a lot steeper than the normal path, but there are some really amazing views. Especially now with all the leaves off the trees, you can see for miles.

Here is Volcan Concepción:

And just a reminder, this is the volcano we climbed!

Thanks for reading!

We do it for the stories

2007-03-11T09:14:00.000-06:00

First of all: Happy birthday, Frida!! Its today, isn't it??

Rob and I decided we needed to go get some money yesterday, so that we can settle our bill at the Hacienda. There have never been any banks on the island (most people wouldn’t use them anyway, since they barely have enough at a time for bus fare or to buy one cigarette), so we needed to go to the ATM in Rivas—the nearest town on the mainland. We left on the 8:30am bus to Moyogalpa, and from there took the 11:30am ferry over to the mainland. As we boarded the ferry, I realized I had not brought any Dramamine with me (a last minute parting gift from my mother-in-law, which has proven to be indispensable). I thought I would probably be okay. The worst of the windy season had passed, and I convinced myself that the lake looked fairly calm. Plus, the vast majority of times I have crossed Lake Nicaragua, I have done it without Dramamine. It hasn’t always been pretty, but I’ve made it.

The ferry ride over to the mainland wasn’t great, but I white-knuckled it and made it to the mainland in one piece. We then had to take a short taxi ride into town, where we made a mad dash to the ATM, and then headed back to dock. We needed to be sure to catch the 1:30 ferry back to Moyogalpa in order to catch the 2:30 bus to Mérida. Otherwise, the next bus did not leave until 4:30 and we wouldn’t get home until 7:00. So the whole trip was dash, dash, dash. We had even packed sandwiches to take with us, so that we wouldn’t have to stop for lunch.

After bus, ferry, and taxi, I was not feeling so great, and I was not looking forward to the final ferry ride back to the island. I’d eaten about half of my sandwich at some point during the trip and by that point I was really wishing that I had not. The time frame of our trip prevented us from taking the “big boat”—which provides a much smoother ride, but would not allow us to make the appropriate bus connections back home. We ended up taking the “Karen Maria” both ways—tiny, crowded, ridiculously rocking. This photo is not from today, it is from last January as we thanked our lucky stars that we were on the “big boat” instead of this one. But it’s the same general idea.

As soon as the Karen Maria launched, my stomach flipped upside down and turned inside out. I had to hang on to the seat with both hands to keep from flying off, and the waves were so high that they were coming in over the sides of the vessel and drenching me. Less than 5 minutes into the trip, I thought, I am never going to make it. I tried to steady myself. Oxygen is half the battle—I forced myself to take slow, steady breaths and avoid hyperventilating or crying hysterically. State of mind is the other half of the battle. Meditate constantly on positive thoughts and do not let the crazies set in. So I tried to think of happy things. Wrinkle Belly is alive! Beyond that, I couldn’t think of anything happy because of the gut-wrenching nausea. Instead, I could only think of my sister’s 9 wretched months of morning sickness (actually morning, noon, and night sickness) and the mind-numbing sea-sickness Cara endured on that fishing trip she went on a while back. I thought of my very first trip to Ometepe, when Professor Pablo threw up 3 times over the side of the boat. Ten minutes into the ride, I stopped trying to convince myself not the throw up: puking actually seemed like it would be welcome relief compared to this nausea that seemed like it would be the end of me. Besides, someday 10 years from now, it would make a funny story, and as Pablo has told me, we do this for the stories. We would be like, “Remember that time I threw up on the ferry? Ha ha, weren’t those the days, when we were young and carefree!” I thought, it won’t be that bad; I will just lift my head up and puke off the side of the boat, no one will be the wiser. But the boat was rocking so violently, I had visions of myself being tossed overboard. I thought, I need to tell Rob to hang onto me when I puke. But at that point, speaking was impossible. In my mind, I tried to sing the words of Amy Ray—the only thing that gotten me through the last 6 miles of so many marathons. But it didn’t work.

Suddenly I was up on my knees with my head over the side. Oh, the insanity. It was like looking into the eyes of my tormentor. The maddeningly violent waves slamming the boat from side to side, and up and down. Puking off the side was not going to be possible. Luckily, Rob anticipated this. He grabbed a filthy bucket full of trash and shoved it toward me just in the nick of time. Up came everything, but none of that blessed relief I had craved. For the remaining half hour of the boat ride, I hunched over the bucket, gripping it so tightly I am surprised my knuckles didn’t crack and bleed. Finally, mercifully, we reached land. Somehow I climbed up the ladder-like stairsteps to get myself off the boat. It was 2:45 but the 2:30 bus was still waiting for the ferry to arrive before departing. I told Rob, “I cannot get on this bus,” and he said, “Okay.” But I headed towards the bus anyway and climbed on, somehow just filled with the desire to get home and end this relentless travel.

The bumpy roads seemed almost smooth after the terror of the ferry. At some point during the trip, I heard Rob say “Uh oh,” and was able to raise my head enough to see the driver stop the bus and get off. Apparently a delivery truck full of glass bottles of beer and coca-cola had overturned up ahead and the driver had decided to get off and help clean up. Keep in mind, this is the same driver who stopped the bus one time for more than 20 minutes when we passed a town carnival—he had gotten off and had himself a drink and snack before returning to the bus and continuing with the route. Anyway, we’re still not really sure what the driver was doing at the scene of the over-turn. He appeared to load up one of those green crates with beer bottles, then he took the crate and brought it onto the bus without a word. Hmm. In the photo, the driver is the guy wearing the black cap, white shirt, and khaki pants.

At some point on the trip home, Rob told me, “I don’t know if this will make it better or worse, but as the bus was pulling out of Moyogalpa I saw a new sign, advertising that there is now an ATM machine in Moyogalpa.” An ATM on the island. Ohhh, the irony. All we could do was look at each other and laugh. If only we had known. There would have been no vomitous ferry ride back to the mainland. In fact, Rob would have probably just done the whole thing on a leisurely Saturday morning bike ride to Moyogalpa and back. “Well, at least we know for next time,” I said weakly. At any rate, it makes for a good story.

Thanks for reading. I’ve got to sign off and lay down because my head still hasn’t figured out that I’m off the boat. Until later then.

WRINKLE BELLY IS ALIVE!

2007-03-09T21:40:00.000-06:00

Or so I think.

On my way into the forest this morning, I came across the North Group. Even though I was scheduled to follow the South Group today, I wanted to at least check them out before proceeding southward. So I peered through my binoculars, and there he was: Wrinkle Belly.

I couldn’t believe it. He was just sitting calmly in a big tree—pale, hairless, wrinkled—like he hadn’t been missing for over a week. I rubbed my eyes and wiped off my binoculars on my shirt and looked up at him again. Could it really be him or were my eyes playing tricks on me?

The belly was definitely wrinkled, but I wanted to get a good look at his face to make sure. He started moving and it was really hard to see him clearly. I called out to him, but of course, he doesn’t know that his name is “Wrinkle Belly,” so he didn’t respond. It was him alright; it had to be him, I saw the belly. Its just that he seemed darker and not quite as scrawny as the last time I’d seen him. So maybe wherever he went, he found something good to eat.

I took a picture of him, but he is on the move so it didn’t turn out very well. I am still kind of in shock. He was missing for so many days! Where could he have gone? I searched the North Group thoroughly and he was nowhere; I was so sure that he was the monkey who had died. It was tough, but I forced myself to come to terms with that.

To say that I am overjoyed that he is alive would be an understatement! Its like a miracle. Part of me wonders if this morning when I saw him I was still sort of half-asleep and it was all a weird dream. Maybe I just really wanted to see him. I hope I’m not jumping the gun on this and next week end up writing something like, “I don’t know what I was talking about in that last post, Wrinkle Belly is nowhere to be seen.” But for the moment, let’s assume that he really is alive. It is fantastic news, but leaves me back to square one with the mystery of who died in the mango tree. As any new developments emerge, I will be sure to post updates.

After my WB sighting early in the morning, I went on to spend the rest of the day with the South group. I got a really good photo of Uno in the late afternoon. Well, he’s not smiling or anything, but it is a close up and its clear.

Thanks for reading, until later then.

Life goes on

2007-03-06T17:55:00.000-06:00

Today it was time to move on to the South Group even though I really wanted to spend the day scouring the forest in search of my beloved Wrinkle Belly. I know in my heart that I will probably not find him again, but there is a small part of me that keeps hoping. At any rate, I stuck with the plan and collected data on the South Group. It was actually a really great day with them. I followed a juvenile who just ate and ate and ate and ate, so I got a lot of good feeding data. Plus, they dropped a lot of the things they were eating, so now I’m going to stay in tomorrow and use the toughness tester on some of their interesting foods. For some reason I had thought to bring my camera out with me and I got a couple of good shots. The first one is of a young juvenile (not my focal animal, but a cute guy nonetheless) and the second one is his/her mom. They were both eating some vines on a big Guanacaste tree.

Thanks for reading!

Near as I can figure…

2007-03-04T21:43:00.000-06:00

Thanks everyone for your posts. It was a loooong day and I am exhausted so will make this brief. When I got to the forest this morning, I discovered that the remains had been scavenged, so my quandary over whether to have a proper burial or preserve the skeleton for educational purposes turned out to be a moot point. After searching high and low all through the day, I did not encounter Wrinkle Belly. At this point, it really does seem to me that he is the monkey who died. Most of the North Group stayed in the vicinity of the mango tree—the scene of the crime. The group did split up a bit after their breakfast, and I searched each of the sub-groups thoroughly. I really think that if Wrinkle Belly were alive, I would have found him. What is interesting and also eerie is that the North Group is remaining in the area where he died. Everybody says that howler monkeys are dumb, but I really think they know.

It was a wretchedly hot day in the forest; I ran out of water and am sunburnt to a crisp. When I was on my way home, I saw Simeon for the first time in months. He was walking along the road, using a stick for a cane. He had been sick and had to have surgery in the hospital on the mainland, but he is doing better now. It will be about another month before he can go up into the forest again though. He laughed because he told me he’d heard that Rob and I climbed the volcano and how much trouble we’d had, and how we were so sore afterwards that we didn’t leave the Hacienda for a week. Well, I guess news travels fast in a small town. He asked me how Wrinkle Belly was, and fighting back tears, I told him. He said, maybe Wrinkle Belly would show up yet. And if not, we both agreed that Wrinkle Belly was an old monkey, who’d lived many years and had a good life. Well, I don’t know if he had a good life, but I certainly hope so. Of course, what I really hope is that he turns up yet. It just occurred to me how much Wrinkle Belly loved unripe mangos, so if the mango tree is where he met his end, then at least he’d had a good last meal.

Tomorrow I’ve got to stay in to use the TT, but if I find anything else out when I am back in the forest, I will be sure to post. Thanks for reading.

Colonel Mustard, in the mango tree, with the candlestick...

2007-03-03T18:59:00.000-06:00

**WARNING: Although I have tried to keep this post toned down, it may still be unsuitable for some readers!**

It didn't seem worth mentioning (not like anything else in the last post was either) but when I left the forest on Thursday night, I smelled something awful. There were a lot of crows and vultures in the area, plus a thick line of ants all swarming in the same direction. Though it was dusk already, I followed my nose and the ants. Something was dead in the forest, I was just hoping that it wasn't a howler. Even more, I was hoping it wasn't Wrinkle Belly, who had been strangely absent from the North group all day.

I didn't find anything and headed home, not thinking much of it. On Friday I had to make a phone call to the Nicaraguan ministry of the environment (long story, maybe another time) so I did not go out to the forest. Saturday morning I was back out and found monkeys on the camino (its what I call the main path up into the forest). Both the north and south group were together-- although quite spread out-- near where I'd smelled the stench (about which I had since forgotten) on Thursday. I followed my focal animal into the mango tree at C6 and watched her forage. All of a sudden I looked down and saw tufts of howler fur on the forest floor. Most was the short black fur that covers the majority of their bodies, but some was the long reddish-amber fur that they have on their sides. I noticed the stench again, and within a few moments I found the body. I won't go into the gory details: let it suffice to say that there was enough of it there for me to know it was a howler, but not enough for me to identify the individual or even its sex.

I felt sick and I still do. My big fear, of course, is that its Wrinkle Belly. The individual was adult-sized, though its possible that it may have been a sub-adult: this age is supposedly when they face the greatest risk of mortality, either from aggression or starvation, as they strike out on their own and try to enter a new group. A few weeks ago, I actually saw a sub-adult male get violently chased out of the North group, and I've been wondering what happened to him. But still. It could be any monkey. The location is a place where both groups go, so I don't even know which group he/she is from. I don't know the cause of death either. It could have been a violent ending (Colonel Mustard! In the mango tree! With the candle stick!), but it may not have been. Lately I've been thinking that the monkeys seem awfully scrawny; maybe they just aren't getting enough to eat and for this one at least, it couldn't go on any longer.

The shrewd part of me is thinking that I need to preserve the skeleton and find some way to bring it back so we can use it as a teaching specimen at the University. But even if I could do that (I can't even imagine how many governmental ministries I'd need to deal with), I'm not sure if I should. Somehow, having a proper burial and singing "Danny Boy" might be more appropriate (Cara, remember when you sang at the funeral for my tadpoles?).

All things considered, I am mainly just concerned that it was poor old Wrinkle Belly. I am writing while out in the forest with the North group and have not seen him all day. Granted, the group has sub-divided (there are only 7 monkeys here-- less than half the group). I don't know where the others are, so I keep hoping that he's with them and will eventually turn up. I will post any new developments as they occur.

Thanks for reading.

Back in the Forest Again...

2007-03-01T18:43:00.000-06:00

Thanks to all for your posts, emails, etc., in the wake of the volcano climb. Recovery has not been as rapid as I'd hoped. For 4 solid days, both Rob and I were barely able to move! My legs felt like they were made out of wood and lacked joints. Putting any amount of weight on them was excruciating. The single stair-step into the dining area became an impossible task. Lying down was uncomfortable because my shoulders, arms, and back hurt so much from hoisting myself up the mountain. Sitting wasn't so great either, on account of the bruise on the back of my leg from one of the times I fell. Even after a couple of days, Rob and I didn't really seem to be getting better. I couldn't figure out what was the matter with us! We're not that out of shape, are we? Rob said he didn't think we were out of shape, that the problem is merely that we're old. If that is the case, then I'm glad we didn't wait any longer to do this climb.

At any rate, I was determined not to let this residual pain from the volcano hike impact my March data collection schedule. So I gingerly made my way out to the forest this morning and found the monkeys. I am with them now, writing this in a desperate attempt to stave off boredom during what is going on a 7 hour rest bout. Seriously, I know howlers are boring, but this is beyond boring. My focal animal has moved all of 10m since daybreak, and he/she (its a Juv, so can't be sure of the sex) has only eaten a few bites of food. I had hoped they wouldn't be too rambunctious today, since my legs aren't up to par, but this...this is a little over the top. Martin warned me that the howlers do this excessive resting in the "summer" when its so hot and dry. That they eat in the morning while its still dark out and then they rest until the sun starts to set again. Ugh... its going to be a long summer.

Earlier in the day, I found a semi-shaded rock to sit on while I watched my focal animal rest. Unfortunately, when a nearby female decided to relieve herself, her stream ricocheted off a branch of leaves and it rained down on me. Luckily I scampered out of the line of fire before too much damage was done. Monkey pee is just another occupational hazard, I guess.

Hopefully the monkeys will start to do something interesting soon. I would think they would be getting hungry. In the meantime, I'm just trying to remind myself of one of Prof. Pablo's nuggets of wisdom: "The monkeys are just doing what the monkeys are supposed to be doing."

Thanks for reading, until later then.

Climbing Volcan Maderas

2007-02-24T21:28:00.000-06:00

After a fretful night (see previous post, concerning my fears about climbing Volcan Maderas) and a breakfast of oatmeal and fruit, we set off for the volcano climb. An English couple was also doing the climb, and there were 2 guides. The first 2 kilometers were fairly flat and smooth, and I began to feel more calm. This part, at least, was just like every day when I go out to the forest. The gradient became much steeper after this gentle beginning, but still, it was an enjoyable hike. During this first part, we saw 2 snakes. The first was really skinny, with a tan body and yellow underbelly. The second snake, sunning itself on a rock in our path, was a famed boa of Ometepe. There are supposedly magnificent boas on the island (I think there was even some sort of National Geographic documentary filmed about them, in which Rodolfo may have starred), but this was the very first one I have ever seen. It was beautiful. Who would have thought I would have said a snake was beautiful? I know my mom and Cara are screaming in terror at just the mention of a boa, but really, it was amazing. Brown and black and tan and yellow with its sensitive little tongue and beady little eyes.

Shortly after sighting the boa, the hike turned into a climb. Actually, it felt like I was scaling the volcano. Parts of it were pretty tricky, but still, I had no problems. Watching the changes in the forest as we ascended to higher and higher elevations was probably one of the coolest things I’ve ever seen. After about 1000m of elevation, it became “cloud forest”—big ficus trees dripping with moisture and covered in moss, looking like you’ve stepped back to some dimly-lit primeval world where elves and fairies might actually exist. We were literally walking in the clouds. By this point, the path was a solid river of mud and tree roots, and I was using my arms to pull myself up even more than my legs.

About 4 hours after we started, we reached the summit: 1370m of elevation. Wouldn’t you know, it was covered in clouds. The wind was howling and the temperature felt almost frigid. As we stood precariously on the narrow path, the clouds began to dissipate, and we could at last view the laguna in the crater of the extinct volcano. At first view, it was so beautiful that I actually gasped.

Crater lake with clouds

More Crater Lake with clouds:

At last, the clouds dissipate:

More view from the top:

Rob with our guide, Randol

Your fave couple, the Ragfields:

We stayed up at the summit, resting and eating some lunch, until our lips were blue and fingers were numb. Finally, with much trepidation on my part, we began our descent. This was the part I had been dreading. It was slick and incredibly steep, and I had visions of myself careening off the edge and somersaulting all 1370m down the volcano. But luckily, there were a lot of trees, roots, and rocks to grab onto, so it wasn’t quite as technically difficult as I had feared. What I hadn’t expected was the complete and total annihilation of my legs. Have any of you ever seen that video footage of one of the Ironman races where professional athlete Chris Legh had gone over his limit and was wobbling—no, flailing—, hurling himself toward the finish-line on his legs rendered non-functional? That’s how I felt and looked. Really, check out the link. It also reminded me of this game we used to play in grade school: somebody would get on either side of you and hold your arms really tight against your body while at the same time you tried to push your arms out. Then all of a sudden, your friends would let go and your arms would just float up, like magic, like you had no control over them whatsoever. That’s exactly how my legs were. Eventually I had to stop and rest every 5 minutes because my legs were shaking so badly that they wouldn’t hold me up. Needless to say (sorry for using that phrase, Amy), the descent took us a loooong time. Whereas we had energetically bounded up the volcano way ahead of the struggling English couple, they surpassed us on the way down as a result of my lame legs. Our guide Randol was really helpful: in a couple of really steep sections he somehow braced me so that I wouldn’t go sliding down the mountain, and he even offered to carry my bag and hold my hand. But I summoned my pride and gritted my teeth, determined not to let this mountain own me. Despite the fact that I had virtually no control of my legs, I managed to fall only twice. Neither of which was off a ravine and both of which I landed on my rear end—which has considerable more padding than my beautiful teeth.

During my numerous rest breaks, we had a chance to enjoy some of the scenery that had been covered in clouds while on the way up. My favorite is this fabulous view of the isthmus, Lake Nicaragua, and Volcan Concepción. We also encountered two groups of howler monkeys on the way down, and I was all too eager to sit there for a while and watch them.

Volcano monkeys:

Finally, finally we made it back. It was an unceremonious ending, but I was jubilant to see the Hacienda and have some water. After showering and resting a bit, we ate dinner—which was fantastic but probably would have tasted fantastic no matter what it was, under the circumstances. Just as we came back into the room, a large black, hairy creature scuttled across the floor and under the bed. Tarantula. The size of my palm. I screamed and screamed again. Rob got a flashlight and a machete; I ran out of the room, still screaming. Alejandra came with a broom for help, and told us not to kill it—we’d just sweep it out of the room. Like I said, my no-kill policy goes out the window when it comes to spiders. I wanted that sucker dead. So for the second time in a week, my machete was used to end the life of a tarantula. What is the deal?! None in 6 months and now 2 in one week. Do these things have a season or something? Does anyone out there know anything I can do to deter these creatures from my immediate environs?! Instead of basking in the glow of the volcano hike, I am trying not to puke up that fantastic dinner. I am wondering, how I in the world am I going to sleep on a bed that may still have some tarantula guts underneath. And should I see one again, will my rubbery, Gumby legs allow me to high-tail it out of here fast enough? At the very least, I think I’m going to have to sleep with the light on tonight.

Thanks for reading!

On the Eve of the Volcano Climb

2007-02-23T21:00:00.000-06:00

First of all: Happy Birthday, Dad! I’m glad we got to chat a little bit today, but am sorry I couldn’t be there.

Rob and I have made arrangements to climb Volcan Maderas tomorrow. To be quite honest, I am terrified of climbing the volcano, but it is something I feel I have to do. Tourists in much worse condition than I am climb the volcano all the time, so I’m not sure why I’m so terrified of it. I think it has to do with Professor Pablo and the horror stories he told me and how back when he was telling me these horror stories, I vowed that I would never climb the volcano. Its just so tall and so steep. It will be like running 2 marathons back to back, and I’ve never been able to go a step beyond just one marathon. But still. I feel like I cannot live on this volcano for a year and not climb it. Way back when we arrived, Simeon told me that February was the best month to climb. About 99% of the days its completely covered in clouds, so you can’t see anything when you get to the top. But I guess in February, there is slightly more of a chance of having clear weather. So we’ll see. I’ve seriously planned my whole research schedule around allowing time to climb the volcano in February. All along, I’d imagined that Simeon would be our guide (you need a guide to do the climb, and being a volcano guide is Simeon’s real job); however, Simeon is currently out of commission. Apparently he got sick and recently had surgery at the hospital on the mainland. He’s back on the island now: Rob saw him chatting with neighbors in the road and lifting his shirt to show off a huge scar across his belly. But he’s not quite up to climbing the volcano just yet. So we’ve signed on with a different guide and we’re getting ready for the big hike tomorrow. Every time I glanced up at the volcano today I got queasy just seeing its height. Right now I feel kind of like how I do the night before a marathon, only multiplied by a factor of 100. I am hoping for sure-footedness tomorrow and a clear sky when we get to the top. But I know that the summit is likely to be covered in clouds, so I am reminding myself of that summer I worked for Dr. Joy and how she always said, “Its about the journey.”

Thanks for reading.

Along came a Pica Caballo

2007-02-21T21:09:00.000-06:00

Number of ticks removed to date: 22
Number of days tick-free: 13 (maybe tick season is finally over??)

Rob and I were eating dinner by the light of the crescent moon at a table outside our room when we saw a dark shape moving along the ground. Tarantula. The first one I’ve seen around the Hacienda. And while it was not huge, it was larger and darker than the three or so I’ve seen in the forest. Still, no shrieking. “I’m amazed at how calm you are,” Rob said as we studied it. Clearly, he remembers the days when I couldn’t even touch my Animal Behavior textbook because there was a picture of a spider inside.

One of the guys who works as a volcano guide was walking by, and we gestured to the arthropod. He shone his flashlight on it and stood looking at it for several long moments. I asked him (in Spanish), “This is not dangerous, is it?” He looked at me earnestly and assured me that yes, it was dangerous. He said that if it bit your thumb, you would lose the thumb. I know I wasn’t confused by the Spanish because he used gestures to illustrate the point. He went on to say that if a horse got bitten by one of these on its foot, the horse’s entire leg would become immobile. My throat tightened. “This is a pica caballo?” The fabled horse-biting tarantula that almost made me reconsider doing fieldwork in Nicaragua. “Si, si, es un pica caballo,” he assured me. He said that we should kill it. Speaking over the lump in my throat, I told him that I had a machete in my room and he said that would be good. I usually have a no-kill policy concerning wild animals, but when it comes to spiders, that flies out the window. I thought of the time that Pablo (my professor, not the grad student) told me he found a fer-de-lance (poisonous snake) on the trail in Costa Rica and although he normally wouldn’t have killed it, he did so because he didn’t want it to bite any of the students who would be coming through later. I thought maybe this was a similar situation. The offending arachnid was really close to the rooms (ours included), and I wouldn’t want someone to lose their thumb or worse. So I handed over my machete and the deed was done. One less pica caballo in this world to worry about; how many others are out there? I feel like I need to wear a full suit of armor when I go to sleep tonight.

Local people generally know what they’re talking about when it comes to the flora and fauna around here, but there’s a part of me that doesn’t believe (or doesn’t want to believe?) that this thing was actually a pica caballo. All the pictures of pica caballos on the internet show them as being much larger and much hairier than the thing we saw. If only my entomologist sister-in-law had been visiting, she could probably have told me exactly what it was.

At any rate, I’m exhausted after a 14-hour work day that even included the Toughness Tester, so I’ve got to sign off and get some sleep soon. Thanks for reading.

Balgüe

2007-02-18T09:37:00.000-06:00

It was a long, hot week out in the forest. This is the height of the dry season, and there’s not a cloud in sight. I thought it was hot before, but this, this is hot. By about 2pm I swear I can boil tea with the water in my bottle.

After making it through such a long, hard week, I decided that what I wanted to do yesterday was go see Finca Magdalena in Balgüe. Balgüe is a town on the other side of Volcan Maderas from us, about 9km away. I’ve run there before, but a sightseeing trip would necessitate traveling there by bike or bus. And since we’re the Ragfields, you know that means bike. And there’s probably nothing that terrifies me more than riding a bike on these hilly roads comprised in some places entirely of jagged rocks. I managed the ride only falling off the bike twice and sustaining no serious injuries.

We stopped first at a place called Zopilote, where a sign advertises that they sell local handi-crafts. There were no handi-crafts, just a few loaves of bread, a cucumber, and some tahini (how can that be local?). A English tourist staying there, who was nice enough, tried to sell me some bracelets he was making, but I kept thinking that if I wanted English-made handi-crafts, I would go to England. There was a nice lookout point at Zopilote, so we climbed up to that (see pictures below). It’s a cool view; Balgüe is roughly opposite of Merida, so you’re seeing the other side of the volcano in these photos. Zopilote advertised that they had hummus, but we never found anyone to buy it from, so eventually we got frustrated and headed on to Finca Magdalena.

Concepción, not erupting today:

The other side of Maderas:

Panorama from the viewpoint:

Melissa and Rob at the viewpoint

For some time I had wanted to visit Magdalena. The guide books make it sound amazing, plus, it is the farm where they produce the shade-grown, fair trade, organic, bird friendly coffee that I order online when in the US. If any of you have received coffee from me for birthdays, Christmas, etc, this is where it comes from.

The Finca was about 1.5 or 2km straight up the volcano; I’d imagined that we would be walking our bikes up this dirt path to the Finca, but no—we’re the Ragfields—we rode. Well, Rob rode and I rode most of the way except for the end when it got really steep and rocky. To be quite honest, the Finca was a big let-down. There were a bunch of dred-locked, loud, chain-smoking tourists running about, which was a far cry from the peace and tranquility that the guide books indicated. Plus, none of the cool things such as viewing petroglyphs and seeing the organic farm could be done without having had reserved a guide in advance. Plus, it was hot, hot, hot, hot. Did I mention it was hot?

We ordered lunch, which turned out to be the worst food I’ve eaten in my entire life (and I eat things that I find on the forest floor). We got what seemed to be the only vegetarian item on the menu: spaghetti. It was mushy noodles covered in, not sauce, but a medley of boiled vegetables including carrots, celery and potatoes. You know, the tasteless kind you get in a can and that they serve in cafeterias. The kind that has had any redeeming nutritional value leeched right out of them. But what made the meal so bad was that they had poured at least 2 cups of corn oil over the entire thing. And the salad was not much better. Cabbage with a little bit of onion and cucumber, also doused in oil. They had good lemonade though.

We wandered around a bit after lunch, but really I was just stalling due to my fear of riding the bike back home. Especially of the long 2km down the volcano back to the main road. We didn’t really see anything interesting, so finally we headed out. Because I’d had a couple of close calls on the way over, I would jump off the bike and walk it at any sign of treachery. My doing this caused the trip to take twice as long as it should have. The heat, the exertion, my thirst, and all that corn oil sloshing around in my stomach made me enter the Ugly Zone. I get this way sometimes on long runs or bike rides. Its when everything sucks and you hate it all. When we finally pulled in home, I was still mad and thinking about what a waste of time and energy this trip had been. But Rob looked at me, with that little smile on his face, and said, “That was fun!”

Must sign off for now; we have so many dirty clothes to wash that this is going to be Melissa and Rob’s Day of Laundry. Thanks for reading. Comments and support are always welcome; I am thinking of you all at home who are still snowed in from the Great Blizzard of 2007.

Volcán Concepción

2007-02-12T18:11:00.000-06:00

I forgot to mention, Volcán Concepción erupted the other day. It happened on February 9 around 11:00am. Over here on Volcán Maderas, we didn't even know about it, but I guess I can add this to my list of interesting life experiences. A tourist by the name of Emanuel Sferios took this picture:

Melissa and Rob: Day of Fun

2007-02-11T16:02:00.000-06:00

First of all, thanks everybody for your encouraging emails and comments on the blog; that has really helped me a lot. I will get back to replying to you all but it may take me a while!

Anyway, Rodolfo was here the other night and told us that there was an all-stars baseball game in San Ramon this weekend (baseball is big here, ever since some branch of the US armed forces introduced the game at some point when they were either trying to destroy or help this country, I can’t remember which). Rob and I rode over there to see the game today, but we got there before it started, so I suggested we ride on to Tichana, the next town over. I’d never been that far and considering how scared I am of riding on these roads (more on that later), I figured I might never be up for doing this again. So we kept going on some gi-normous hills—I walked the bike on most of these. We saw the property that our friends Doug-las and Tax’a bought over there, and I was content to turn around, but Rob said there was a really pretty viewpoint just another kilometer ahead. So we went; it was pretty nice. Here are a few photos:

And then on the way back, Rob snapped a picture of the road. This is why I am terrified of riding a bike here:

As we cruised back in to San Ramon, the baseball game was in full swing and also, Rob got a flat tire on his bike. Luckily there is a “bike shop” in town. Its really just somebody’s house. We pulled in and 4 small boys set to work on the tire (there were no adults around). We asked what the charge was and they said 6 cordobas—that is something like 30 cents. We gave them 10 and told them to keep the change; they seemed pretty happy.

We hadn’t brought enough water with us, since we’d only planned on going to San Ramon and back, so then we stopped at Chico’s pulperia for some juice. Chico’s is the place where I used to hang out when I was here alone for my pilot study, and Chico himself is a good friend of my quasi-dissertation advisor, Pablo.

After refreshing with some juice, we watched the baseball game for a while. It sort of reminded me of the rodeo I saw in October; that is, it seemed deeply confusing and disorganized. The players were all wearing uniforms, but none of the uniforms were the same so I didn’t know who was on what team (I guess perhaps this is because it was an “all stars” game). And every once and a while, some of the spectators would just ride their bikes through the field, not during a time out (do they even have time outs in baseball?) or anything. But Rob seemed to be making sense of it. He would say things like, “Hey, that guy just made a double play” or “He just hit a pop-fly.” I was surprised that Rob knew so much about baseball; he must have been paying attention all those years at his brother’s games. Rob also revealed to me that from the ages of 10-14 he was the “official scorekeeper” for the little league. So I guess he knows a whole lot about baseball.

At any rate, I’ve got to go wash some clothes (see post below for how this is done); thanks for reading.

How I do laundry

2007-02-11T15:57:00.000-06:00

Because Amy’s sister wanted to know how I do laundry, here is a photo. Its a concrete washboard and basin, and it really isn’t as fun as my expression indicates. Although actually, now that I’ve got the hang of it, I kind of wish I could have something like this when I go back to the US.

The other day while I was doing laundry, Daraysi (one of the girls who works here) came up to me and asked me how we do laundry in the US. I told her we had machines and she laughed, like that was the funniest thing she’d ever heard.

Staking Their Claim

2007-02-09T17:40:00.000-06:00

Number of Ticks Removed: 22
Days Tick Free: 1

Its been a tough week.

By 6:30 on Monday morning, the North Group had moved into a fruiting ficus tree in the South Group's home range. They behaved like they like they were homestead squatters, staking their claim. They stayed in that tree the entire day without budging. Yes, the same tree. All day. They seemed to be afraid that if they moved, the South Group would run in and eat all the figs. And with good reason. The South group had them flanked, and they were howling as they hungrily eyed the ficus. But they had no luck. Wrinkle Belly and the rest of the North group had claimed those figs as their own.

It was an interesting day, but the action was-- in typical howler fashion-- quite subtle. The sun was blisteringly hot and I had such a headache that I thought I might puke. But I knew I needed to power through. Minute by minute, the day was boring, but the implications of this territorial dispute over figs were profound. Or at least that's what I would somehow try to say in my dissertation.

Out in the forest, I have plenty of time to think, and more and more I've been thinking about how I'm now halfway done collecting data, and I have no idea what I'm going to say in my dissertation. Marginally functioning toughness tester aside, I certainly can't answer the questions I came here to answer. At this point, I feel like I can't answer any questions, and I will go back with absolutely nothing new to say about howler monkeys. This worry quickly transforms into an even greater worry, which is that I'll never be able to get a job at the end of this (I've been on the job search committee, I've seen what it takes). And from there my ever-present concern is that even if I do manage to get a job, the stress of it will likely drive me to a conniption before I'm up for tenure review.

So this was my dismal mind-set on Tuesday evening when I realized that something had happened to my data file from Monday and all my data had been erased. Even Rob couldn't do anything about it. Neither of us knows what happened; my data are just gone. Since October, I’ve been recording my data with a hand-held iPaq (like a palm pilot)-- using software that Rob wrote expressly for this purpose-- and then I beam it to my computer every night. So far, this is the first problem I’ve encountered with the iPaq. Its not as bad as it could be—if I were recording everything by hand and something happened to one of my notebooks I could lose weeks of work. This was just one day. But still.

There was really nothing to do except get back on the horse and go to the forest on Wednesday morning. It ended up being a pretty good day. They dropped some Albizia leaves, and when I came home I used the toughness tester on them. I thought if I got weird values that would probably drive me over the edge, but my values were actually in-line with previous tests of that specious. I breathed a sigh of relief and entertained the tiniest iota of a possibility that the damn machine might actually work.

Thursday morning I was back at it again and had a really interesting day following Wrinkle Belly's every move. He ate some really crazy foods, including uripe mango and unripe avacado. Just as it was coming up on 4pm, I was following WB across a rock wall (incidentally, in the heart of the South group's range) when I somehow crashed into a rock and crushed the iPaq to smithereens (see photo at right). The screen was all black and nothing would happen when I pressed the buttons. Talk about freaking out. And just when my great day with Wrinkle Belly had begun to take away the sting of Monday's lost data. I gathered my things and ran down the volcano. Literally. I was surprised at how agile I could be in a time of crisis. Of course, getting home sooner wasn't going to save my data if it was lost, but I had to know.

Miraculously, Rob hooked the thing up to a bunch of cords and extracted the day's data. It was all there, everything. I had destroyed the device, but my data were intact. I breathed an enormous sigh of relief.

A huge part of me wanted to take today off, but in the end, I decided to come out for one more day before taking a rest. In fact, I've written this whole thing in the forest while the monkeys were napping. We have an extra iPaq and a more durable case, which I don't like as well but under the circumstances am learning to love.

I've heard that its been a rough week for a lot of my friends and family back at home, too. Just so you know, I am thinking of all of you and wishing you the best. As for myself, if any of you could think of alternate dissertation topics, job prospects, or general words of encouragement, I could really use some of that. For now, I need to get back to my enthralling observations of nap-time with the South group monkeys, who still have yesterday's Nispero plastered all over their faces. Thanks for reading.

Of all the things to take my mind off the wasp sting

2007-02-04T10:22:00.000-06:00

First of all: moms, everything and everyone is okay, so no freaking out, please.

Yesterday at breakfast, Rob announced that he was going to ride his bike around the island—a 7 or 8 hour endeavor. To amuse myself while he was away, I went for a run. When I got to my 5K turnaround point, I just kept going. I got to the fork in the road at Santa Cruz, and just kept going too. I turned right and headed up in the direction of Balgüe. It was so cool; I’ve never ever been on this road before. Balgüe is almost exactly across the volcano from us, so you are looking at the mountain from the other side. The view was amazingly beautiful. Maderas was on my right, and Concepción and the lake were on my left. I couldn’t take my eyes off the volcano, since I’d never seen it from this angle before. I reached the school in Balgüe, probably about 9K from here, and although I felt great, but I knew I should head back. If only I’d thought to bring money with me, I could have stopped at a pulperia for something to drink, but alas. I still felt great until about 3K to go—it was then that I became painfully aware of how hot and thirsty I was and how much my legs ached. But still, no major troubles. I made it back to the Hacienda where I had cool water waiting. All in all it was a great run: I explored previously uncharted territory, no dogs chased me, and only 2 guys said “Adíossssss, amorrrrrrr” (and both of them were more polite than smarmy).

Before I knew it, Rob was riding in back home. He was covered in grime and his voice was hoarse, but he seemed okay. He showered and I made him some Gatorade while he was resting. After an hour or so, he had drank only 2 sips, and he told me he felt “weird” and also “cold.” This was not a good sign, as it was probably 90 degrees in our room and I was sweltering. His electrolytes must be off, so I knew I had to get him re-hydrated and balanced. Back when I was sick in August, the German doctor gave me Coca-Cola, because of its sugar and salt content. I know the stuff is poison, but I swear it brought me back to life. When Rob agreed to try a Coke, I knew he must be bad (he swore off the stuff when he was like, 15). But the Coca-Cola didn’t help, and the puking began. He was miserable, and I was desperate. I found some suero packets (rehydration salts) leftover from our sickness in August. The stuff tastes horrible, and he was having a really hard time choking it down. But both of us knew we could not let this get bad enough that he needed an IV at the hospital. So milliliter by milliliter, he slurped the suero. At dinnertime it didn’t even occur to me to go up to the kitchen, but after a while, Esther (bless her heart) came to the room to ask me if she could bring me something. Eating was the last thing I wanted to do, but I finally decided that if we did end up at the hospital, it might be a long time before I would have food again. Plus I’d run almost 18K that day. So I had a little bit of rice and beans and kept coaxing Rob to drink his suero.

It must have helped, because he stopped puking and we both fell asleep. About 4 this morning, he woke up thirsty, and I crept up to the kitchen to fix a cold glass of water with a little lemon and sugar in it (another trick the German doctor taught me). Sandino was in there making bread and offered his condolences to Rob. They have this great little device, sort of like a garlic press, to squeeze the juice out of the lemons (the lemons here are really small, like globe grapes). I took the drink back to Rob and he drank it down and kept it down. We fell back asleep, and when we woke up at breakfast time, he said that he felt better and was hungry. Hallelujah. Gracias a Diosa. He had some bananas and orange juice. He is tired now but is on his way back to normal. At the moment, he is munching on jalepeño tortilla chips (of all things) and drinking more lemon water. My feeling is that if he is hungry for jalepeño chips, the danger must have passed. Plus, we tested his blood sugar in the midst of this, and it was normal. I am just so thankful that he was able to choke down enough of that suero to avoid a trip to the hospital. Because honestly, I’m not sure how we would have gotten there. I need to make sure we always have some of that suero, as foul as it is, on hand. The thing about Rob is that I have always felt comfortable in his ability to know his own limitations. He usually has this keen sense to know when enough is enough, and to stop pushing himself before he’s gone too far. But I guess in the tropics sometimes the system sometimes breaks down. I hope he thinks twice before trying to ride around the island again. Actually, I hope he does not do that again, but I know better.

At any rate, Rob’s crisis was enough to make me completely disregard my wasp sting. Only now have I noticed how much of a mess my arm is, but in the scheme of things, it seems inconsequential. Some ice and benedryl, and I’ll be okay. Plus, Rob and I noticed that the Indigo Girls released a new album this fall, so we used our iTunes gift certificate from Michelle and Mark to buy it. So today we’re just going to rest, recover, and listen to some mellow music. Sorry for the long post, and thanks for reading.

The Big Event

2007-02-02T20:18:00.000-06:00

I couldn’t think of what to title this post, but hopefully this will make sense as you read.

This morning I followed the South Group up to Níspero trees they love so well. When we arrived, there was another group or two already up there. The monkeys stayed pretty tranquilo though; just a few howls and everybody settled down to eat. Even with two or three groups up there, I’m not sure they have much to howl about anyway. There are at least 5 fruiting Níspero trees in the vicinity, so it seemed like there was enough for everyone.

In the afternoon, I followed some monkeys in an area where there was not a trail. As I hacked my way through vines and thorns, suddenly I heard buzzing all around me and could see only yellow and black. Then there was a sharp pain in my arm, sort of like getting a tetanus shot. I screamed and tried frantically to get away but was hampered by the vines. Finally I got away from all that buzzing and miraculously had gotten only one sting. I put on some “Sting-Eze” stuff designed for this purpose and hoped for the best.

As I was recovering from this encounter, I heard some strange noises that sounded sort of like birds and then all of a sudden, I saw the weirdest looking monkeys I had ever seen. For a split second I thought it was some kind of albino howler monkey, and then I realized they were capuchins! These are the monkeys with black bodies and white faces—the only other non-human primate species that lives on Ometepe. All the times that I have been here, I have never, ever seen wild capuchins. This was the big one. The big event. I was speechless. I forgot all about my wasp or whatever sting.

The capuchins had apparently come in for Níspero fruit as well. So in addition to the 2+ groups of howlers, a group of capuchins was now vying for it. The howlers didn’t seem too happy about having the capuchins on the scene, but they also seemed unwilling to get up from their afternoon nap to do anything about it. There was some weak howling and a bit of movement, but nothing like the pandemonium I might have expected. Regardless, the capuchins were extremely skittish. I think they were probably pretty freaked out by me; unlike the howlers, capuchins don’t see people as often and they definitely weren’t habituated. They did not hang around long: they retreated back from where they came, and in the end and I’m not sure that they got a whole lot of the Níspero fruit. Even so, it made my day.

Later on, I also saw an iguana, but under the circumstances, the capuchins made this day more memorable.

Okay, I need to sign off. Here's a picture of a capuchin that Rob took last weekend from Monkey Island; unfortunately I didn’t have the camera with me today. Oh, and by the way, my sting isn’t too bad. Thanks for reading!

100% All Natural Chewing Gum

2007-02-01T20:33:00.000-06:00

Number of Ticks Removed: 17
Days Tick Free: 2

This morning the monkeys were howling at the top of their lungs over four fruiting Níspero trees. I’m not sure how many groups were vying for the fruit, but it seemed like there were about a ka-jillion monkeys up there. They were eating and eating this stuff, and their faces were all covered in food. I’d tasted the fruit when I was out there the other day and it was actually really good. In fact, people around here eat it all the time. So today I saw some fruits fall out of the tree, and I picked them up and began snacking. The fruit is sweet but very stringy and chewy. As I was snacking and looking up at the monkeys, I realized that I had been chewing a really long time. I spit out the wad of fruit and there on the forest floor was not fruit pulp but chewing gum. Yes, chewing gum. Níspero is in the genus Manilkara; I’m not sure if its Manilkara chicle or Manilkara zapota but either way, its the stuff that chewing gum is made of (ie, chicle=chiclets). Well, I suppose they actually chemically manufacture chewing gum now-a-days, but at one point, it was made from this stuff. I knew all this as I was eating the fruit, I just didn’t think it was as simple as chewing that sweet, stringy fruit until it just magically turned into gum. Somehow, I thought it would be more of a process.

At any rate, after sampling some of the fruit myself, I have a better understanding of why the monkeys get food faces when they’re eating it. The juice of the fruit is extremely sticky, and when it dries it feels like, well, chewing gum. Like if you are chewing gum and you blow a bubble and it pops and gets on your face. So as the monkeys eat this fruit, they get the juices all over their furry little mouths. Then it dries and essentially, the monkeys have sticky gum all over their faces! I wonder how they ever get it off? For me it took a lot scrubbing.

I haven’t had much in the way in visual aids lately on the blog, so I’ll post a picture of the Níspero fruits (with a quarter, for scale). That's just the outside; the real fruit is on the inside but I don't have a picture of that. If there are any plant knowledgeable people reading and you know which of the Manilkara species this is, please do let me know.

Thanks for reading!

Níspero

2007-01-30T21:17:00.000-06:00

Number of Ticks Removed To Date: 17
Days Since Tick Removal: 0

After taking the weekend off, I needed one more day of data with the South Group this month. Yesterday I scoured every inch of that forest but couldn’t find them anywhere. I thought for sure they must have gone away somewhere to some seasonal patch of food, like how when the North Group took the secret corridor down to the road for Chaperno flowers. After all my fruitless searching, it seemed like I wouldn’t find them again until they were good and ready to come back from wherever they had gone.

This morning I headed back out, not expecting to have any luck. Since they hadn’t appeared to be anywhere in the forest near sunset last night, it was doubtful they would be back at dawn this morning. But miraculously, they were right there at point U-14, in a big tree they like to sleep in. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Uno was there, so it was undeniable. As I stayed with them throughout the day, I realized why I hadn’t found them yesterday. They went up the mountain into areas where I’d never seen them before. In some places, there were remnants of really old trails, and in other areas there were no trails at all. What they were after was the juicy, ripe fruit of the Nispero (Manilkara ) tree. They visited 3 different giant Níspero trees throughout the day and stuffed their little faces with the fruit. Seriously, they got the stringy fruit all over their faces, but they didn’t do anything about it, so they just sat there all day with food-faces. Actually, it was pretty hilarious. The best part was that by the end of the day, they went full circle and headed back to the U trail, where I’m sure they were planning on sleeping in their favorite tree.

So the South Group is becoming more interesting than ever. Before, I thought that other groups of monkeys up the volcano kept the South Group pretty much trapped to the lower elevations of the former coffee plantation—where the trees are all shrubby and in the early stages of regeneration. I also thought that the South Group’s apparent restriction to this territory would result in their having a poor quality diet with very little diversity. But today the South Group demonstrated that when the time is right, they can make a jaunt up to where the trees are tall and the fruit is ripe for the picking. I’ll be interested to see how this all turns out. Until later then!

The Loosely United Federation of Monkeys Also Known as The South Group

2007-01-27T14:23:00.000-06:00

First things first: Jairo, Simeon, and the internet all confirmed that the time is not going to “spring forward” this spring. Apparently daylight savings only happens sporadically in Nicaragua, and this year its not scheduled. This means that by May and June, it will be light out before 5am. Knowing this just about put me over the edge. The past week has left me so exhausted that I feel like I’m hanging on by a thread, and the knowledge that for the duration of my project the precious little sleep I get will steadily dwindle was just about more than I could handle. The monkeys don’t know what time it is; they only know that when it gets light out, they can eat breakfast—which is what I’m here to study.

At any rate, yesterday out in the forest was frustrating to say the least. It started off great—I found Uno and his lady friend and her kid right off the bat. They all had some Capulín (Muntingia calabura) berries for breakfast; then another male appeared on the scene and they all headed up the volcano to a Genízaro tree (the same one that, according to the TT, is less tough). This is where it got confusing. I ended up losing Uno, and in hindsight I realize there were probably two or perhaps even three groups up there. When they separated, I must have followed the wrong group because I had a bad feeling about where I was headed and I didn’t recognize any of the monkeys. There was another massive inter-group encounter, but by this point I wasn’t even sure if the South Group was there anymore. I wandered through the forest looking for them. I went back to the Less Tough Genízaro (where I’d last seen them): not a monkey in sight. So I went back to the Camino, where I thought they might have headed. The North Group, bless their hearts, was there—resting just far enough away from the action to be uninvolved. I also found another weird group that appeared to be coming down the volcano for some Genízaro leaves (again with the Genízaro!). I thought that this weird group had probably been involved in the intergroup encounter, but none of this solved the mystery of where the South Group had gone. Maybe it was all the sun and thorns, but I began to wonder if there really even was a South Group at all. Maybe it was all a figment of my imagination. They could just be a rogue assortment of monkeys that tolerate each other enough to eat Madero Negro leaves when they’re available, and otherwise, they split up and tag along with other groups. Maybe that was why I’d had such trouble figuring out exactly how many monkeys were in the group and why they always seem to be in the same place. The thought was unsettling.

In the midst of this delirium, I spotted a mother and juvenile resting at point U-14—in a big tree where I often find that loosely united federation of monkeys I’d been calling the South Group. There appeared to be no other monkeys around, but I decided to stay with this pair and see what happened. Sure enough, late in the afternoon, a whole group descended from the direction of the Less Tough Genízaro and joined them. So maybe there really is a South Group, and maybe they really had been at that Less Tough Genízaro the whole time afterall. These monkeys will never cease to amaze me. On my way out of the forest, I ran into the North Group. Literally, in fact. They were moving in on the South Group’s turf, and the area they had chosen to cross over didn’t have very many trees, just shrubbery. So—bam—there was Sophie and Spud, about eye-level with me and only about 1 meter away. Sophie went “yip” and scrambled across the gap. I’m not sure what the North Group’s sudden fixation with the South Group’s territory is, but I think it has something to do with those Capulín berries. We’ll have to see how that works out for them. Hopefully it will be enthralling enough to get me out of bed every morning, earlier and earlier.

Thanks for reading, until later then!

Sound and Fury

2007-01-25T20:39:00.000-06:00

The week started off blissful: I was experiencing the joys of the runner’s high, I followed Wrinkle Belly’s group to some interesting places in the forest, and a problem with the toughness tester appeared to be fixable by oiling the columns of the test frame. But somehow it all went downhill. The gringos who bought land in the forest have put barbed wire fences everywhere, which slows me down and increases my chances of getting impaled. Moreover, just when I thought the toughness tester was working properly, I got some weird values for some Genízaro leaves that I tested last night. According to the machine, these leaves were a whole lot tougher than some Genízaro leaves from a different tree they had eaten from just last week. So the jury is still out on the TT. It would be interesting if I had found that Genízaro leaf toughness varies depending on location in the forest, age of the tree, or exposure to sunlight, etc. Its true that toughness can vary according to all of these things, but after all of the troubles I’ve had with that machine, I’m more afraid that the damn thing just doesn’t work.

Today I went out to the forest with Jairo, who had been commissioned by Alvaro to film the monkeys. I’d been following the North Group (Wrinkle Belly) for several days, and today it was time to shift gears and find the South Group (Uno). Even when they aren’t making noise, I can generally find the South Group by walking along an old Rock Wall (it used to be some property boundary when the whole patch was a coffee plantation); they never seem to stray too far from that area. Immediately upon arriving at the Rock Wall, we found monkeys. I happily proclaimed this to be the South Group and Jairo began setting up his camera as I scouted out a juvenile of the right age to watch. As I was scanning the trees, I suddenly saw a most unexpected sight:. Wrinkle Belly. In the core of what has always been the South Group’s turf! The groups occasionally make forays into each other’s territories, but I had never, ever seen WB this far south.

Jairo stayed put while I went a little bit arriba, determined to find the real South Group. I found monkeys in some big trees up there that they like to hang out in sometimes. I scanned the trees for Uno, who could confirm for me that this was the South Group. Although I didn’t see him, I reasoned that if Wrinkle Belly’s group was along the Rock Wall, then it must be Uno’s group up here. I went back to tell Jairo that I’d found the South group, but when I got there, I saw a male monkey who had the pointy nostrils characteristic of Uno. As he shifted positions, I caught a glimpse of his posterior, and sure enough: only one. It was Uno, in the same area as Wrinkle Belly! Who in the heck had I been watching up above?!

Today was the first occasion in almost 6 months of watching monkeys that I have ever seen Uno and Wrinkle Belly in the same location. I was excited, but Jairo was so bored that he packed up the camera and left around 9:30. Immediately after Jairo left, pandemonium broke out that would have been film-worthy. There was massive howling from every direction and monkeys were flying, leaping, biting, and chasing each other through the trees. It was complete chaos, all of them were vocalizing at the top of their lungs and madly dashing all over the place. In addition to the North and South groups, I am pretty sure there was another group involved (its range borders this area as well). With about 15-20 monkeys per group, that’s a lot of sound and fury. They appeared to be negotiating who had dips on those super-tough Genízaro leaves—something that is not supposed to happen, according to all the leading theories on primate food competition (leaves are considered low-quality resources that aren’t supposed to be worth fighting over).

By the end of the day, I think that all the monkeys went to their rightful places again. I know howlers have the reputation of being the most boring of all primates, but they never cease to amaze me. After a full week of barbed wire, stinging ants, and TT stress, I am exhausted. I’ve got to make it one more day out there and then I’ll let myself sleep in. Thanks for reading.

The Long Run

2007-01-21T16:06:00.000-06:00

I have realized that I need the long run to feel like myself: all those years of running marathons have left their mark on me. For the longest time, I refused to let grad school get in the way of marathons, but I always had a guilty conscience that in the time I’d spent running I could have written some really great article or otherwise furthered my career. My running wasn’t a secret, but I tried not to let S.L. know how much time I really spent on it. Often, I drastically readjusted my life to have time to get all the running in. Like the time I did an 18-mile run one morning and still made it early to a 10am meeting at school. Or all the times I spent not socializing with other people in the department so that I could go home and run instead. During my pilot study 3 years ago on Ometepe, I somehow managed to train for a marathon while also studying the monkeys, but all along I knew that I wasn’t doing either thing particularly well. I finally had to give in last year during the hellishness of proposal writing and preparing for prelims. It made me crazy. Seriously. I realized I needed running like some people need heroin.

The longer I spent away from running, the harder it was for me to get back into it. I never gave it up entirely, but I did give up the Long Run. It got so I couldn’t even make it around my neighborhood on my familiar 3-mile loop. The only times I could have a chance of finishing an entire run without walking half of it were on those rare occasions when I drug myself to running club and had the camaraderie of other people to drown out the crazies and exhaustion in my head. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to run, I just couldn’t make my legs do it. I wondered if I’d used up all my miles and would never be able to run, to really run, again.

I missed it terribly. There was nothing I loved more than a long run of 16 to 20 miles on a July morning when the temperature hovered near 90 degrees by 8am. How you get so hot you don’t even feel hot anymore; how you hurt so bad you don’t even feel pain anymore. When you run that far, your thoughts become almost psychedelic. You become pure motion, nothing physical matters. When you think you can’t go on, that you are going to end up a crumpled mass on the side of the road, there is only one thing to do: run faster. I remember those days: sun, sweat, Gatorade. Crisscrossing the town so many times that there’s nowhere I haven’t run.

Something from my life has been missing since I gave that up, or quit being able to do it. I’ve tried to run from time to time here on Ometepe, but it is not the same. The terrain is rocky and jagged even in the smooth places. You never know when a dog is going to dart out into the road and growl at you, with its teeth bared. People come out of their houses to stop and stare at you, like a freak or novelty. Teenage boys follow you on their bikes, leering, “Hola amorrrrrrr….” Its so much of a hassle. But little by little, I’ve been making myself get out there and do it on my rest days from the monkeys. I started gradually—an out and back 5km (3.1 mile) run interspersed with walking had me exhausted. But if I just kept going, I could make myself go 10K instead. Yesterday I pushed it a little bit farther, running maybe half a kilometer past my turn-around point, and I wasn’t even tired. Today I went out again and just kept going and going, until I realized I was at the fork in the road at a town called Santa Cruz, some 7km away from the Hacienda. On this road, that’s a veritable distance even by bike or bus. All I wanted was to keep running farther, but I was low on water and faced a return trip nonetheless. So I turned around and headed home, beginning to feel like myself for the first time in months. One of the muchachos who works at the Hacienda, Ileya (spelling?), caught up with me on bike not too long after. We chatted for a while before he went on ahead; it was not exactly like having the company of the running club, but it passed the time for a while. When I finally got back to the Hacienda with a 14km run under my belt, I had more energy than when I’d started. Despite the dogs and leering boys and trucks that don’t leave room for a pedestrian, I felt the best I’ve felt since my last marathon.

Afterwards, Rob and I went out to lunch at another hospedaje up the road. This one is a little more posh, and they have exorbitantly expensive home-made veggie burgers. The ultimate post long run recovery meal. It was so worth it. Food just tastes better, the sun shines brighter, and birds sing more sweetly after a long run. I wish I could bottle this feeling, but I know I can’t. The only way to keep it is to just keep running, so I’m already looking for my next marathon.

I didn't mean to go on so long about running; I wanted to write about some other things, but this post has become too long already! If anyone has made it all the way through this entry, thanks for reading. Until later then!

The Return of Green Parakeets and Sally

2007-01-16T21:37:00.000-06:00

The first time I was on Ometepe was three Januarys ago, as a TA for Pablo’s field course on primate behavior. At the time, I was testing the waters to see if this kind of fieldwork was really what I wanted to do with my life. On one of our last days here, he gave me some free time to go out to the forest and explore by myself, to figure out what I needed to figure out. So I walked to the Machete Forest and set an ultimatum. I said to myself: " Self, if you find the monkeys here, on your own, you are going to do this thing." If I didn’t find the monkeys, I’d either measure baboon brains for my thesis project, or quit and work at the running store, or start over and try to get into physical therapy school.

As you may have guessed, I found the monkeys.

I remember looking up at the monkeys that day; they were in a big tree that was almost barren of leaves but had plenty of pale pink flowers. The tree was a mystery to me at the time, but now I know it well as Madero negro (Gliricidia sepium)—a tree they eat from constantly. I also recall that they weren’t alone in the tree. What seemed like hundreds of squawking green parakeets noisily fluttered around in the uppermost branches, gorging on the delectable flowers. From down on the ground, the birds just seemed like blurs, but when I looked at them through my binoculars, I saw what a beautiful bright green they were.

With the return of the season of flowers, the bright parakeets have returned as well. Today they were making such a racket that my ears were actually ringing when I finally made my way out of the forest and to the comparative silence of the road. I hadn’t thought of those green parakeets that I saw 3 years ago while out in the forest by myself—not until today when I noticed that they had returned. I remembered my ultimatum, and I was glad that I had found the monkeys that day.

As if the green parakeets were not enough, my little dog Sally has returned as well. Maybe I haven’t written about her: she is a little stray dog who used to show up at the Hacienda around dinnertime. There are a lot of strays around here, and we’re not supposed to feed them because that encourages them to stay. Rob has warned me not to get attached to the stray dogs—more often than not, they are hungry and tired and do not meet a happy ending. This happened with Anita, the first stray dog I fell in love with after I got here. For the first couple of weeks, she followed me everywhere. She was dirty and probably disease-ridden, but she was so cute that I couldn’t help petting her. Then one day she disappeared and I never saw her again. Every night I eyed up the strays, searching for one I could love. I finally found another cute little dog and started calling her Sally. Every once and a while I snuck her bits of food and petted her soft little head. When I called “Sally!” she would come to me, as if she knew her name. But ever since we’ve been back after Christmas, I haven’t seen Sally. Just when I’d resigned myself to her sad fate, she showed up at dinner last night. At first I don’t think she remembered me, but I called her and she came running.

I don’t have any good photos of her, because she only comes around at night. Here’s one I took before we left in December; its all blurry because she wouldn’t stop moving:

The Blessed Event

2007-01-15T22:15:00.000-06:00

My sister had her baby on Saturday, January 13th—two weeks early. She went to the hospital on Friday night, and here I was, oblivious to the whole thing. I’d had a good, solid week out with the monkeys, so I was positively jubilant about taking the weekend off to relax. On Saturday morning I had a lovely breakfast, did some reading, and went on a 10K run. Little did I know. When I finally got online late in the afternoon, my mom instant messaged me to tell me that Michelle had been in labor all night and all day.

I think by the time my nephew finally met this world, I was bouncing along in the back of a truck headed to San Ramon. I’d promised Alvaro that I’d give a talk about my project to some pre-med students doing a field school here. I don’t have any idea what I must have said in the talk; my mind was thousands of miles away. As soon as we got back to the hacienda, my mom and dad called to tell us that the baby had been born, he was healthy, and my sister was doing well.

I still haven’t talked to my sister, but I talked to her husband. He said, “Don’t let that sweet exterior fool you; your sister is tough.” Given my penchant for toughness, he couldn’t have chosen a better compliment. Beauty and sweetness will only get you so far in life: toughness is what its all about.

Now I’m officially an auntie to two nephews (Rob’s brother and wife have a little boy), plus Bryn, plus little Miss C and little Mr. E. When I was growing up, my own Auntie was so cool (and she still is). She had a puppy dog and she lived in a condo that had a swimming pool (which made me think she was always on vacation even though she wasn’t), and she took us to the Dairy Queen. I hope my nephews don’t think of me as the crazy monkey lady who lives far away and they never see. I’ll have to work on that.

Thanks for reading!
Auntie M.

You can’t have your figs and eat them too

2007-01-11T20:52:00.000-06:00

It’s a lame saying, but its true—I’ve learned that much in life.

Today apparently Wrinkle Belly had a hankering for figs. In the morning, the group slowly meandered to an area in the forest where there was a fruiting ficus tree. This particular location is frequented by at least 3 different troops of monkeys—all wanting some of those tasty figs. I could hear howling from two of the other groups that were in proximity to the tree, but this did not phase Wrinkle Belly. He was the first monkey of the North group to bravely cross over and enter the giant ficus. Some pandemonium definitely broke out as soon as the North group entered the scene. Two males from a neighboring group raced over and tried to chase them out of the tree. There was massive howling all about. and monkeys were moving every which way. It was all I could do to keep straight who my focal animal was.

At first it seemed that all was lost for Wrinkle Belly’s clan. They retreated as the others chased them out of the tree, but they managed to hold their ground. They stayed in the area of the ficus and just waited until everything settled down. Then they rushed back in and had themselves some figs and young leaves from the tree. Wrinkle Belly’s group did not tarry too long in this area though. After grabbing a quick snack, they high-tailed it back down the camino and continued eating some really crazy foods that will make for a very interesting dissertation. So, I guess if you are part of Wrinkle Belly’s group, you really can have your figs and eat them too.

Just one more noteworthy tidbit: Sophie saves the day… Yesterday, Spud (2 months old) climbed off of Sophie’s back while she was feeding. Spud amused himself by swinging from his tail, and Sophie just went on her merry way. Either she forgot about her baby, or she thought he would be able to follow her. When Spud looked around and realized his mother was no longer in the tree, he kind of freaked out. He tried to go after her but was scared, so he started screeching. Eventually, Sophie turned around and went back for him. She reached up to bend a branch down, so that Spud could climb right on her back. He did just that and then hung on for dear life. Maybe you had to be there, but I thought that was really sweet.

That’s enough tales of the monkeys for one night. I’ve got to get to bed so I can do this all over again in the morning. Thanks for reading.

Another day at the office

2007-01-09T21:00:00.000-06:00

Today was my first day back on the job after our big vacation. It couldn’t have gone better. For starters, the sun is rising a little bit later now than it was when we left. Before the solstice, it was as bright as day by 5:30, but today the sky was still purplish blue at 5:45 when I got to the forest entrance. I think I was still half-asleep when I stumbled upon the monkeys. They were half-asleep themselves, yawning in a couple of large trees low along the camino. Now that the dry season is in full swing, many of the leaves have fallen off the trees, so visibility has improved by an order of magnitude. It was like a veil had lifted; with the trees nearly bare, I could see the monkeys’ little faces so clearly. Plus, without so many leafy hiding places, I was able to get a better count of the total number of individuals in the group. It seemed to me that I was with the North Group, but one very important member appeared to be missing: Wrinkle Belly. Without seeing him, I couldn’t be sure if I was with the North Group or not.

Four hours passed with no sighting of WB, and then— miracle of miracles—he emerged from the canopy in all his wrinkled glory. I think I may have actually wept for joy. It was cathartic. Here I was, gone for 2 weeks and wondering if I am really capable of doing this project, then Wrinkle Belly turns up and all is right with the world.

I'll sign off now so that I can get to bed and do this all again tomorrow. Thanks for reading!

We made it back

2007-01-07T20:58:00.000-06:00

Just a quick post to let you know that we finally made it back to Mérida. There were no major mishaps, it just took a lot longer and was more of a hassel than we had hoped. The moral of the story is to not travel on a Sunday in Nicaragua. Scroll down if you want to read a belated update of the rest of our time at home.

At the moment I'm too tired to post anything else; I'll try to catch up in the next couple of days.

Cold Feet

2007-01-07T20:48:00.000-06:00

Literally. The whole time I’ve been back in the US, my feet have been cold. Especially at night time. I’ve had to wear two pairs of socks and slippers just to make it bearable. I think I could really get used to tropical life and no winters if I had to.

Aside from the cold feet (and a never ending sinus headache), being back in the US has been very comfortable. After Christmas, Rob and I headed out east for a few days to visit my sister and her husband in Pittsburgh. Exciting times for them are ahead: they are having a baby at the end of this month, and soon after they are moving to the Midwest. They’ll be much closer to my parents, who are thrilled at the prospect of being able to frequently visit their first ever (and likely only ever!) grandchild. Seeing my very pregnant sister and her husband was great; Pittsburgh itself seemed gray and gloomy, but maybe that was because I was car sick couldn’t get rid of a ridiculously powerful sinus headache. The next time I see my sister, she will be a mom, which is mind-boggling to me. They have some names picked out for the baby, but it’s a secret, so I’ll have to wait for the blessed event to see what they decide on.

On the road to Pittsburgh: Would a "carved meat buffet" sound appealing if I was not a vegetarian?

Pittsburgh skyline

We spent New Year’s with our friends Aimee and Brett and their two kids, Little Miss C and Little Mr. E. Miss C was so excited that Rob and ‘Lissa were staying for a sleepover! We all had fun playing with some of the new toys the kids got for Christmas, but Rob and I were so exhausted and head-achy that for us, the new year rang in without much fanfare. The next morning, Aimee and Brett made the most delicious pancakes ever, and I kept popping ibuprofin and vitamin C to try to feel like a normal person.

For the rest of the week, we stayed with Cara and John, our friends who bought our old house. I can’t come up with words to describe the surreal-ness of being house guests in the house we lived in for 5 years. It was so comfortable and comforting, but I had to keep reminding myself that this is their house now; I don’t live there anymore. Bit by bit my enduring headache subsided, and I braved the cold to go out and run my beloved 3-mile Loop a couple of times. In the 5 years we lived there, I must have run that route on hundreds of occasions in every conceivable form of weather. Before we moved out of the house, I always had planned to have one ceremonious last run along that beloved route, but everything got so hectic and busy at the end that I sort of lost track of when my last run was. So this time I tried to savor it despite the cold and rain. Many months of Nicaraguan rice and beans plus the ensuing deluge of Christmas goodies have made me doughy and out of marathon form, but I managed to hold my own and run the route at a respectable pace.

The whole trip back to the US has really made me aware of the ties that bind. I have the most amazing friends and family in the world. Everybody went over and above the call of duty. They provided us with food, shelter, clothing, transportation, vitamins and cold medicine, soymilk, and veggie burgers without complaint.

Some of my favorite memories of the trip, in no particular order:
• All our family Christmases: at both of Rob’s grandparents’ houses, my parents’ house, and my aunt’s house.
• Going running early in the morning at my parents’ house, then coming back for a lovely breakfast and coffee with my mom and dad.
• Little Miss C requesting (and eating) a ham and chocolate sandwich on a croissant for lunch.
• My sister’s dog Dixie: such a quiet dog except for the 30 seconds preceding her nightly milkbone treat.
• Seeing a pure white goose on the lake with Cara and wondering if it was a Ghost Goose, an Albino Goose, or a swan.
• Hanging out with Aimee and the kids while Rob and Brett rode their bikes.
• Driving the Purple Car.
• Sex and the City
• Coffee with Martin.
• Chatting with S.L. in his new office.
• Both Little Miss C and Little Mr. E on my lap, reading stories.
• Staying up late with Cara and John, catching up on TV shows I’ve missed, and having gin and tonics. And of course sharing the lap duvet.
• Hot chocolate
• Hot showers

I could go on forever. The trip was chock full of happy, warm and comfy moments. At the moment I’m torn between worlds. I wish I could have my cake and eat it too: going back to the monkeys in Nicaragua, but having my friends and family close by too. Like, if I could spend the day out in the forest watching Uno and Wrinkle Belly, but then come back and night and watch Sex and the City with Cara or read a bedtime story to Little Mr. E and Little Miss C. But I guess I’ll have to be content to just wait a few more months for all of that again. For the time being, I’ve got to shift gears back to Nicaragua mode and focus all my energies on the monkeys. I’m just hoping that I don’t have to go through a period of re-adjustment again: the Vortex and being all swollen up from bug bites is not an experience I’m eager to relive.

I’m not sure when I’ll get a chance to post this; at the moment I am writing while on the plane back to Nicaragua. Stay tuned; I’ll post more from Mérida when I get a chance.

Thanks for reading.

Dunlap Love

2006-12-26T19:15:00.000-06:00

A few of the old Dunlap crowd met up at a P-town cafe called Panache. We used to hang out at Panache back in the high school days, but the place has been significantly vamped up and actually changed location since then. It is way snazzy. Really great food and fantastic coffee drinks. The best part, of course, was getting to catch up with some of my oldest and dearest friends. Its hard to believe that 10 (yes, 10) have passed. It seems like just yesterday we were all 16-- building towers out of our Snapple cans at lunchtime, stressing about our term papers for Mrs. Sullivan's English class, experiencing daily bouts of joy and sorrow, of sweet and bittersweet. In the intervening years, our friends have become doctors, lawyers, grad students, parents, teachers, and everything else in between. But its always so comforting to see each other again and know that the good things never change. We can go months or even years without seeing each other and never miss a beat.

It was just a small group that could get together: that's me on the left (all glammed up) Amy (and Bryn), Maria, and David. After 3-1/2 hours of non-stop chatter, Rob's head was probably spinning from all of our inside jokes, and we finally managed to tear ourselves away from this reunion.

Yet another X-mas

2006-12-25T21:59:00.000-06:00

Rob and I left Nana and Grampy's late on the 24th and headed to my parents house in good old P-town. We celebrated with my Auntie and my grandmas on the 25th.

Does anyone notice what is wrong with this photo?

X-mas Part 2

2006-12-24T21:37:00.000-06:00

We celebrated X-mas with Rob's other side of the family on X-mas Eve. More family fun, food, and tales of Rob's antics when he was a child.

We were a little bit late to the party because I had to take a quick spin on Iris 2:

Holiday Cheer at Nana and Grampy's:

Elf and Elfette handing out gifts

Nana enjoys her gift

Grampy's Grumpy Santa

A Festivus Miracle

2006-12-23T22:10:00.000-06:00

While celebrating with the family in Evansville, Rob and Cousin Kevin somehow managed to recover the data from my defunct hard drive. A Festivus Miracle! My emails, photos, dissertation data, and feminist manifesto have all been restored.

Seeing Rob's grandparents and aunts and uncles was great. The weirdest thing about this visit home is how un-weird it all feels. I was expecting to feel more out of place in the frigid midwestern US after being in Nicaragua for 4-1/2 months, but it feels surprisingly like I have never left.

Here are some photos of the fam:

Christmas cheer

Playing the Wheel of Fortune game that Rob's parents made up for Grandpa and Grandma B.

Grandma's big winnings after hitting "Bankrupt" so many times

The Ragfields' Christmas Vacation

2006-12-22T10:49:00.000-06:00

Merry Christmas Mr. F
Sunday 17 Dec 2006

On Saturday night before we left Ometepe, Sandino (yes, one of the guys who works at the Hacienda is actually named Sandino) came to our room with the bottoms of some sawed off water bottles that he had filled with bits of chicken and some greenish tablets. He explained that it was for the rat, and he helped us place the bottles in strategic locations along Mr. F's usual path. At some point in the middle of the night, I heard Mr. F eating what I can only assume was the poison-laced chicken. Although a non-lethal, vegetarian solution would have been preferable, I was surprised at how little remorse I felt. At the time my only thought was "Merry Christmas, Mr. F."

We left the next morning to begin the first leg of our journey. We witnessed why the local buses are called "chicken buses"-- the woman sitting across from us carried on a live chicken in a wicker basket. We had been well forewarned that livestock is often transported via the local bus system, but I had yet to see it. I kept wondering why the woman was taking a live chicken to Moyogalpa, and my best guess was that it was the chicken's birthday. At any rate, once we arrived at the dock in Moyo, the ferry ride was pretty smooth. In fact I kept glancing at my watch wondering when we were finally going to start moving until I realized that we actually were moving. The most turbulent part of the first leg was a fist fight that broke out between two guys on the chicken-bus from Rivas to Granada. Rob and I speculated what could have been the cause of the fight: I thought it was probably over money, Rob thought it was about a girl.

When we got to Granada, we stayed at a place called Hospedaje Cocibolca . I was totally proud of myself that I had called the place and managed to reserve a room, all in Spanish. Maybe it was just because we've been living in such a rural area, but the hospedaje seemed extremely posh: our own room with a fan and private bathroom for $13 a night. The best part was that the shower was cool rather than cold, which seemed like a luxury. The only problem was that sometimes the water and/or power in Granada would randomly cut out, so you had to carry a flashlight and just enjoy a shower whenever you could.

That first night in Granada we went to the Bearded Monkey and had vegetarian chili plus a brownie with vanilla ice cream on top. The whole thing was so good I almost cried. The food at the field station is really good, but I hadn't realized how tired I am of rice and beans.

Pictures of Granada

Monday 18 December 2006
Masaya Market

After discovering that the Hospedaje Cocibolca serves the greasiest pancakes (fried in oil?) we'd ever eaten, Rob and I set out to figure out how to get to the market at Masaya. This is the place to be if you want any kind of Nicaraguan souvenir imaginable. We happened upon a fleet of mini-buses that ran service from Granada to Managua and would let us off in Masaya-- all for 18 cordovas (just over $1). The whole thing was surprisingly easy, and once we arrived in Masaya, the markets were not nearly as frantic as I remembered. We did some shopping and then found a little restaurante that served cheese sandwiches and salad. The salad (wilty ice-berg lettuce) was topped with the quintessential Nicaraguan cheese: white squares of some of the grossest tasting stuff I can imagine. I picked out the vegetables and left the cheese. A hungry looking boy kept hovering near us, trying to get our attention. Finally I couldn't pretend to ignore him anymore, and he asked if he could eat the leftover cheese from our salad. It broke my heart. I handed him the plate, and he dove into those little white squares of cheese. He thanked us profusely. "Psst... chica," he whispered to me again, and asked if he could have the rest of my drink. Thinking of all the terrible things that the US has done to Nicaragua, I couldn't refuse. He thanked me even more profusely and asked God to bless me forever.

Tuesday 19 December 2006
Laguna de Apoyo

My guidebook said that this volcanic crater lake is at least 200m deep, and the lowest point in Central America. Plus, the surrounding jungle has capuchin, howler, and spider monkeys. I had really hoped to visit the nearby Laguna while we were in Granada, and much to our luck, Rob and I randomly found a shuttle bus headed that way, so we joined them for a day-trip. When we finally arrived at the Laguna, it was so peaceful and tranquilo. The rough waves made me wish I was better at swimming, but I had fun nonetheless.

Pictures of the Laguna

Wednesday 20 December 2006
Long Journey

After the greasiest breakfast imaginable, Rob and I and all our luggage hopped on one of those snazzy shuttle vans to Managua, Once we finally got to the airport, everything went more smoothly than I could even have imagined. I had pictured mass chaos during the holiday travel season as all the rich Nicaraguans headed to Miami for Christmas. But there was nothing of the sort. There were no crowds or long lines, and everything was totally tranquilo. We even got served a special vegetarian meal on the airplane. They gave us a plate of steamed vegetables, a salad (I'm talking Romaine lettuce here!), a roll, and a piece of cake. Plus the inflight movie was good. I don't know what it was called, but it was a documentary about a high school girls' basketball team in Seattle and the struggles that one particular girl had to go through to make it there. So fly Delta everybody. Especially if you are a vegetarian!

At any rate, we finally made it to our final destination, Rob's parents' house, about 2 in the morning. As I've said before, I really lucked out in the in-law department. Without complaint, Rob's parents picked us up at O'Hare about 11pm and drove us back to their place. They both worked the next day, on very little sleep. What's even more, when I woke up the next morning, there was cereal and soymilk waiting for me! A hot shower, plus my favorite breakfast all before 9am-- it was shaping up to be a really great day.

21 December 2006
The Holiday of My People

The winter solstice: the shortest day, but the longest night. The return to light. Each day following is a little longer than the last. Of all the equinoxes and solstices, this one is my favorite.

As I said, the day began with a hot shower in a clean bathroom: it was surreal. This was followed by my first taste of Silk Soymilk http://www.silksoymilk.com/ since August 8. Heavenly. And the day just kept getting better. I met Martin at school for lunch; when I saw him it suddenly hit me how much I missed him. We had Thai food and talked for hours about howler monkeys and trees. It was so good to see you again, El Negro. You're a good friend.

Then we met at the department and saw the secretaries and of course S.L. I was somewhat dreading that initial visit with S.L., when of course he said, "Melissa, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be in Nicaragua collecting your dissertation data?" But after a few hours of regaling him with tales of Wrinkle Belly, Nathan Jr., Spud, and Uno, I think he was assuaged that I am actually doing my project. It was good to see him, plus I even got hug #5 from him. (Jodi: 5 hugs from S.L. during my graduate career... is this a new record or something?)

We met Cara, John, Aimee, Brett, and the kids for dinner. Wow, it was great to see them! There was no better way to spend the winter solstice. I couldn't get over how much Little Miss C and Mr. E had grown while I was away for just 4-1/2 months! We all stayed up way too late talking, drinking some rum, and catching up. Rob and I spent the night at Cara and John's house--which, recall, used to be our house for 5 years. It was surreal to see our house again, only it wasn't our house anymore. It looks like Cara and John are really at home there-- it looks more like a home than it ever did when we lived there. It seems like they belong there more than we ever did, and it made me happy to see the house in such good hands.

At any rate, I should sign off: many things to do and many more people to see. I will post as I have a chance during the holidays. Its going to be a whirlwind tour of friends and family these next several days. I'm sure I'll need to return to the land of lakes and volcanoes when it is over, just so I can have a rest with the monkeys. Thanks for reading!

A Christmas Limerick

2006-12-16T13:36:00.000-06:00

By Rob
On a tropical island for Christmas
with two volcanoes and an isthmus.
The monkeys are howling,
and the dogs are growling.
Instead we'll return so our families won't miss us.

Limerick writing is apparently one of Rob’s lesser-known talents. Who would have thought. I tried to take some photos of the holiday decorations here at the hacienda, but they didn’t turn out so great. You’ll probably be better off just imagining twinkling lights on palm trees.

At any rate, phase 1 of this project is just about over. We’re leaving the island tomorrow (Sunday) and flying out on Wednesday. I don’t think its really hit me yet that I’ll be back in the US again in just a few days. I’ve been fairly stressed as of late. Sometimes it seems like this project is going along just smashingly great; other times, it seems like its going to hell in a handbasket. Lately, its been the latter of the two. There was another scare with the toughness tester just this week. What had been a small problem turned into a larger problem, and I had to send a few frantic emails to Barth and P.L. to try to figure out what was going on. It could have been any number of things… mechanical failure, electronic failure, load cell failure… all of which would have been pretty catastrophic. In the end, it seems like we may have fixed the problem by oiling the columns. Its worked just fine the 3 times I’ve put it together since then, but my big fear is that the problem re-emerges when I return and use it again in January. I’ll just keep holding my breath.

The other thing that happened is that my laptop’s hard drive bit the dust. The battery had died several weeks ago, so I could not use the thing without it being plugged in. Annoying, but still functional. Then yesterday, just as I was finishing my final report for my grad college dissertation travel grant, a loud squealing noise started coming from my computer. I ran to get Rob and he said, “This is not good.” He got the squealing to stop, but my hard drive was dead and it appeared that I had lost everything. Well, not everything. Most of the important stuff was saved in other places, but there were several documents that I had compiled from my data that I had not backed up. It wasn’t a total catastrophe: the data were still there, it was just a bunch of lost time in making those documents. Still, I felt pretty grim. Then in a complete fluke, the hard drive started working again just long enough for me to recover the non-backed up documents before it died completely. It seems like everything super important has been saved, but I lost all my email. So if you are waiting for a reply from me, you might be waiting a lot longer. As in indefinitely. Especially if I don’t know your email address—which is likely considering that I usually just click on someone’s name in my address book without paying attention to what their actually email address is. What is perhaps even worse is that I lost my entire iPhoto library: everything from this trip except the photos I have shrunk down to post on this blog are gone forever. Rob says he is going to “try” to see what he can do, but I don’t think there is much at this point.

Rob is, I think, almost secretly glad that now we “have” to get me a new computer. I had been trying to hold out on this ancient and decrepit machine until I finished my fieldwork, because I thought it would be much better to get a new computer when I am at home to write my dissertation. But Rob has been pointing out for some time that my computer is 3-1/2 years old, which is apparently pre-Cambrian for these things. Oh well. I guess if it was going to happen its good that it happened now. We can get a new computer while we’re at home, and I’ll be back in business. Except for my lost photos and email.

Anywho, I need to get going and do some last minute laundry and packing before our big trip commences tomorrow. So, for many of you—see you soon!!

The South Group Shall Rise Again

2006-12-11T21:13:00.000-06:00

On Sunday I didn’t go out to the forest, but I’m not sure if one day of rest was not enough or whether it was too much. I could barely even enjoy the day because I was overcome with Forest Anxiety. I couldn’t stop dreading the thorns and vines and rocks and bugs and how much my neck always hurts from looking up at the monkeys. Plus, late on the day Saturday, there had been some confusion with the South troop and I wasn’t sure if I would be able to find them again. I am beginning to feel seriously burned out—like that last week of peak mileage while training for a marathon.

Rob could see how much I was struggling with this, so he offered to come to the forest with me this morning for a little while. At first I thought it was just one of those things—you know, when people offer to do something to be nice but they know you aren’t really going to take them up on it. But he really did come out to the forest with me. He rolled out of bed at 4:45am and didn’t complain a bit as we got our stuff together and broke into the kitchen again--where is this night guard??

My monkey sense started tingling around a path I call “Laucaena Way,” which is in the border zone between the North and South groups. Sure enough, monkeys were there, but my monkey radar told me it was the North group. As much as I love observing Wrinkle Belly et al, I really needed to find the South group and get some data on them this month. Rob and I wandered around all their usual places and did not find them. Just as I was panicking, we heard what appeared to be an intergroup encounter near where we’d initially seen the monkeys. It turned out that the North and South groups were howling back and forth to each other. I was overjoyed when in the midst of all this commotion, I saw Uno—the “king” of the South group. (Note: He may only be the “king” per se, in my mind).

Rob stayed a while and took a lot of pictures of the monkeys with his good camera. I’ll post the best ones:

Near as I can tell this photo is of Nathan Jr., who was born shortly after I got here.

And here’s how “Uno” got his name…

Here are Rob and me in the forest

It was comforting to see that all the monkeys were back in their usual places after their mad dashing around for specific food resources. But at the end of the day on my way out of the forest, I saw Wrinkle Belly and some others headed down the corridor again. I guess they wanted to see if that Chaperno tree had any more flowers.

Thanks for reading, until later then!

Photo of Wrinkle Belly

2006-12-08T21:17:00.000-06:00

On my way to the forest this morning, I heard a howl down in the corridor. I took off through a rice field and got to the monkeys just after 6am. It was the North group all right—sighting Wrinkle Belly confirmed that. Apparently they had gone down the corridor again for some of those lovely magenta flowers that they just can’t get enough of right now. The whole group was there, even the ones I hadn’t seen in a few days. Much to my relief, I saw all the missing youngsters. There were the two main juveniles (Horace and Buster), plus the third that sometimes plays with them. There was the little guy, who I surmise is Newb—an infant born two months ago up on Spondias Lane. I also saw Spud, now one month old and happily riding around on his mother’s back. Scooby was tiny and golden, clinging to his mother’s belly. And then all of a sudden I noticed that there was another tiny gold infant—the North group has had two births within the past week! I started calling this one Stacy, even though I probably won’t be able to tell Stacy and Scoob apart because they are so close in age. At any rate, it was really great to see the whole group. At one point, I counted 15 individuals in the tree crown, with two others in an adjacent tree.

We were so low in the corridor that we were literally in peoples’ backyards. Here’s a photo of one of the houses I was loitering around to watch the monkeys.

The patch was so scrappy, I would hesitate to call it “forest”—it was more of a banana field with a few trees in it.

Although I was initially elated to find the monkeys, the day quickly proceeded to boring as the monkeys settled down for a 4-hour nap after their morning feeding bout. There were a few scuffles that broke up the monotony though. At one point, one of the juveniles made away with either Stacy or Scoob, and the mom went on a frantic chase to get her baby back. I don’t know what the other group members want with the babies, but they are all intensely interested in them. Even Wrinkle Belly periodically came over to peer at and sniff the babies. I think in the case of the juveniles, they just want to play. When this particular juvenile stole the baby, it just hung there by its tail, holding the newborn precariously in its arms, while the mother shrieked and bit and clawed until she got the baby back.

In the afternoon, 3 children crept into the forest patch to look at the monkeys, and they were certainly surprised to see me. I was a source of endless fascination for them—with my binoculars and databook and watch that beeped every 2 minutes so that I could record the monkeys’ activity. The children—Hilder, Fernando, and Alejandro—were mainly barefoot and shirtless, but they fearlessly tramped through the thorns and brush with me as though it were nothing. These kids were all so small; I asked them how old they were and all of them replied that they did not know. I asked them if they went to school and they said no. I asked them if they had their own machetes, and of course they said yes. Fernando and Ale left when they heard their mother calling for them, but Hilder stayed with me to watch the monkeys. That kid is so cute. He would circle the tree to find the best viewing location and then call me over. He smoothed the dirt and drew pictures for me. He arranged rocks to create a sitting place, and he carefully picked off thorns and burrs stuck to my pant legs. And he squealed with delight as he watched the mothers and their newborns.

These kids were actually featured in the blog earlier--I met them on one of my early days after a fruitless search for monkeys in the Machete forest, and they wanted to show me their chained-up pet capuchin.

When it was finally time for me to go, Hilder led me out of the forest by way of his house. I talked to some of his family members and asked them what was the name of the big flowering tree in their backyard. I think it was his grandmother who identified it as “Chaperno.” I don’t doubt that she is right, but there are at least 5 different species of trees that go by the common name “Chaperno,” so I will have to figure out which one this is. I may have to enlist the help of botanists at the herbarium in Léon.

As promised here is a long-awaited picture of Wrinkle Belly. He looks so bedraggled and forlorn! But you’ve got to love him.

Thanks for reading!

Anonymous comments now enabled!

2006-12-07T14:36:00.000-06:00

So, my dear friend Amy finally clued me in on how to let "anonymous" comments on my blog. Changing this setting was actually surprisingly easy, and it allows you to post comments without going through the trouble of setting up an account on Blogger. I think it may also allow Spam on my blog, but we'll try this out for a while and see how it works. Sorry I didn't figure this out earlier. Now I'm having a guilt trip for guilting so many friends and family into creating blogger accounts so that they could post comments (a pleading conversation I had with Cousin Dan comes to mind). Don't get rid of your accounts just yet; if I get inundated with Spam, I may have to revert to the old system. At any rate, if there is anyone out there who has ever wanted to post a comment but refrained from doing so because you didn't want to create a blogger account, now's your chance. Just make sure to tell me who you are or give me some kind of clue, so I know who is posting!

Sorry to everyone I forced to get an account, especially to Cousin Dan.

The Corridor

2006-12-05T18:22:00.000-06:00

I had wanted to post on Dec 1 to wish a happy birthday to my dearest friend Jolyne and to my father-in-law Bruce. Unfortunately, due to general tiredness, power outages, and a country-wide lack of internet for the past several days, I am just getting around to it. So the best I can do is say that I hope a good birthday was had by all.

December 1st ended up being an eventful day for me and the monkeys. It started off though, by me swearing a blue streak when the door to the kitchen was locked and I could not get in there to retrieve my carefully packed breakfast and lunch. This has happened a few times before; I think it means that there is some night guard or something who doesn’t show up and the door is still locked at 5 in the morning. A few times I have waited for the muchachas to come in at 6 and unlock it (they appear to be the only ones with keys); once I went to the forest with a couple of Clif bars and tap water instead of purified. At any rate, this past Friday, Don Miguel saw (and heard) my predicament, and he helped me break in through the window. All set with my water, fruit, and rice and beans, I headed out to the forest.

On the way, I met up with Simeon and his cronies, who were headed to some plantain fields for work. As we walked along the path together, we encountered monkeys at the forest entrance. This was approximately the same location we had found them the day before, and Simeon assured me that it was Wrinkle Belly’s group. He surmised that the group was going to use a thin corridor of trees to head down to a different forest patch by the road, and he gave me instructions on following them before he continued on to work.

It turns out he was right. For months he’d been telling me that Wrinkle Belly’s group sometimes goes down to the road, and I had not genuinely believed him. But today I saw it with my own eyes. Wrinkle Belly and the entire group was there, in all their glory. Sure enough, they headed down the narrow corridor between fields of plantains, rice, beans, and corn. At times the trees were so sparce that they couldn’t cross the gaps. I stood directly under Wrinkle Belly (with my arms outstretched to catch him if need be) as he made a flying leap and landed squarely on a plantain tree. The frond on which he had landed promptly snapped, and just inches from the ground, he scrambled back up into the nearest tree.

The monkeys continued their sojourn down the corridor. The “forest patch” we entered wasn’t really a patch per se; it was just scrappy underbrush with a few medium size trees in what happened to be a few peoples’ backyards. I was a little bit paranoid that I was on “propriedad privado” and I should go ask these people if it was okay with them that I was in their yard. But I didn’t want to lose the monkeys in so doing, and besides, I thought it might cause more of a shock and commotion if I emerged from the underbrush and revealed myself. In the end, I just stayed quiet and hidden, observing the monkeys.

The reason that they went to this obscure locale appeared to be because there was a particular tree in bloom right there. It was a lovely tree—large and with apparently scrumptious magenta colored flowers. When the monkeys arrived, they ate for about 2 hours without stopping. I was just about ecstatic. If all else on this project fails, I can write a paper on howler monkeys’ persistence in agro-ecosystems by using thin corridors of trees that connect between patches of forest.

The next several days, I have continued breaking and entering the kitchen to get my supplies (where is this night guard anyway?!) and watching the monkeys unceasingly eat these wonder-flowers. I’ve also spent some time following the South group (Uno’s group)—who, in the absence of Wrinkle Belly’s clan—have gone to forage in some of the more traditional North group areas. The ecological aspects of this project are turning out to be hella cool.

The only thing that has me a little concerned now is that I know there should be 1-month old infants in both the North and South groups (Spud and Scout, respectively), but I haven’t seen any sign of them lately. They keep having babies, but what is happening to them?? In fact, there is a brand new baby in the South group, who I started calling Scooby (I really don’t know why I’ve given them all “S” names…). I’ll post this picture of Scoob, even though you probably won’t be able to make out anything. The little speck of gold on the mother’s belly is Scooby, and there is another female just to the right of the mother, peering at the baby.

Many thanks for reading, I’d better hurry up and post this while the internet is still working!