This morning my two climbing companions Sara and Eddie got scooped up by Helicopter Ben. Before heading back to the coast the helicopter made a quick round-trip between the Inselberg and Pararé stations. The whirly-bird drinks a gallon of gas every couple dozen seconds so Ben doesn't cut the engine on such jaunts. I knew that when the helicopter touched down at Pararé the door would fly open, goods would get tossed out, someone would run to the chopper with a box of veggies and the heli would immediately be airborne again. When it arrived back here at Inselberg the door flew open, the box of veggies got jettisoned and Ben took to the air again. The blades never slowed. I stepped out of my shoe which was sent flying into the woods by the rushing air. The round trip took less than five minutes. When I hiked the same round trip two weeks ago it took me nearly six hours.Even knowing in advance how quickly the round trip would be over, I was still a bit shocked by how fast Sara and Eddie got whisked away. The two were great companions and I'm a little sad without them. Before this project I knew them only well enough to know that I liked them. Over the past three weeks they proved to be hilarious, industrious, bright and very compassionate people. I could have happily continued the research project in their company. The group that is currently here is nice but doesn't begin to fill the void left by Sara and Eddie.
In addition to delivering Internet technicians, yesterday's helicopter arrived with oodles of canned peaches, canned mackerel and boxes of sugar thinly veiled as cereal. Rice is my new best friend. I've started a compost pile and will get some cukes in the ground if it looks as though I'll be here a while.
The project we had been working on for three weeks was an engaging one. Cullen is interested in determining if bats are aiding the pollination of Eperua falcata. To that end, we bagged and unbagged flowers at various times of day (and night) to deny access to diurnal and nocturnal pollinators alternately. We also deliberately cross and self pollinated some flowers and left others marked but untreated as controls.
Changing flower bags at dawn and rapelling down after dark
The diurnal/nocturnal treatments had to be done just prior to dusk and just following dusk respectively along with another bag swap just prior to and just following dawn. In the jungle, dawn and dusk are prime-time so our climbing schedule aligned us perfectly with tremendous activity both in terms of time of day and position in the canopy. It also didn't hurt that the abundant and very sweet nectar of Eperua falcata draws a dizzying array of wildlife. At times we were practically within reach of some incredible wildlife including the very gentle Howler Monkeys stunning Aura Pendulas and a really graceful climbing ant eater called a Tamandua. None of them seem to think much of perching nearby and the willowy, juvenile Howlers go out of their way to check us out. In contrast to the rowdy Spider Monkeys, the Howlers move slowly and barely vocalize. Thus they often end up sitting and drinking nectar very nearby before we notice.
Sara gets visited by a juvenile Howler qbout 85 feet above the ground.
(sorry, you'll have to turn either your head or your computer on its side - if anyone knows how to fix that, let me know).
The nectar of E.falcata has been in the range of 18% sugar and the flowers are so prolific that they generally produce more nectar than they can hold. Drops of nectar rain down in the wind and as we brush against the inflorescences. I got in the habit of draining any flower within reach that wasn't a part of the study.
The climbing has felt profoundly good. I barely climbed last year for safety reasons and had forgotten just how much I love it. Over the course of Cullen's project I climbed about three trees a day and would have happily climbed more often (didn't want to be a tree-hog). I feel like I got through a bit of a barrier in my climbing and am feeling more comfortable than ever up there.
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