This article is part of a series of journal entries by Natural Encounters Supervisor, Amanda Daly, on her recent trip to visit the Kinabatangan Orangutan Conservation Project in Borneo.
21 May 2009 continued: The blue trail is a bit mucky.
Sunset on the River
Following the afternoon wildlife show behind the cabin, Benoit took us on another sunset boat ride on an oxbow lake near the field center. Joined this time by Marc Ancrenaz and a very nice marine researcher named Min Poh, we lounged in the boat watching assorted monkeys and birds including a flock of at least 30 ringtailed hornbills who flew along ahead of us from tree to tree for much of the trip.
Later, we were invited on a night walk by tarsier researchers Rachel Munds and Ridzwan Ari. A small, secretive, solitary, nocturnal species of primate, the tarsier has not been well studied in the wild. Just finding one is sort of a coup. One way is to walk around the forest at night with flashlights looking for the faint glow of animal eyes. Turns out lots of animals from spiders to frogs to, well, tarsiers have eye-shine. Scanning the trees while walking is challenging because you also need to watch where you step. We hadn’t walked far before we found a fat, gorgeous reticulated python that had eaten a big meal, gone into blue (a period of relative inactivity just before shedding), and found a nice spot right on the foot path to stretch out and rest.
Python on the trail. Photo by Martina Stevens.
The other way to find a tarsier is to stop, turn the lights off, and stand perfectly still and quiet for ten minutes. Then, turn the lights back on and look around quickly in the hope that some creature may have relaxed and ventured out of its hiding place to stare back at you. We didn’t find any tarsiers but standing in the dark rain forest on that cloudy night was its own revelation.
Here’s an exercise I’d recommend for anyone: walk out into the woods at night, turn off your flashlight, and stand there quietly for at least a couple of minutes. Don’t move. Don’t even swat mosquitoes. Just listen. If you’re lucky enough to get a chance to try this in the rain forest, it will put you in your place. The complete darkness and the animal sounds and the humidity push against you from all sides like the coils of a great, dark constrictor. Inexorable. Nothing personal.
Hornbills over the river. Photo by Min Poh.
After a couple of minutes, there was a dull flash of light in the distance and a low roll of thunder. About a foot in front of me, Rachel groaned. “Yep,” I agreed. We could hear rain hitting leaves. Giving up on her night’s observations, Rachel turned on her flashlight and began leading us back toward the cabins by the most direct route, the “Blue Trail” which she had previously avoided as it was “a bit mucky.” Yeah. Cake batter mud rose up around our ankles with each step, threatening to suck the borrowed rubber boots right off our feet, slowing us down. It didn’t matter. There was no way we could have reached the cabins before the rain started crashing down and, when it did, we were instantly drenched. All our clothes, everything in our backpacks soaked. No way for Martina and I to get our stuff dry before packing it back up again to leave for the village of Sukau the next day.
- Amanda Daly, Natural Encounters Supervisor
