Once You Get Past the Leeches, It's Great!

This past weekend Lizzie, Ilja (Lizzie's MSc student), Ashani, Kumara, Tharanga, and I piled into a van and headed off to Sinharaja, World Heritage Site, to explore the rainforest! Ashoka had warned us that 'rainforest' in Sri Lanka is synonymous with 'leeches' and I must admit that my initial enthusiasm for the trip was a bit dampened when I heard this. However, I wasn't about to let some blood-sucking parasites deter me from an adventure, so off we went! We had planned to leave at 8:30 AM on Saturday, but the van, and Kumara and Tharanaga (affectionately referred to as "the boys") were over an hour late. We also had to return to Tharanga's house to grab an appropriate pair of shoes - the brand new, flashy red sneakers Tharanga had brought didn't seem like the best option for the muddy trails we knew we would encounter. We finally left around 10 AM.

The 3 hour journey saw us through bustling towns, steep mountain roads, tea plantations, and crisp cloud forest. Before we reached the park entrance, we stopped in a small town for essential supplies: umbrellas, biscuits, and leech socks...yes, leech socks. Leech socks are made from a thick, cotton weave and are put on over your normal socks and pants - sorry, I should say 'trousers' for the U.K. audience (in the U.K. 'pants' means underwear). Anyway, these fancy shmancy socks reach to just below the knee where they are secured with a drawstring. The idea is that the leeches can't bite through the socks, but that means you have to constantly check for leeches crawling up your legs; if they can't suck on your ankles they will continue upwards until they find a more vulnerable location (e.g. stomach, armpit, neck, dare I say...crotch!). I found a few in some interesting locations, but I will get to that later.

The van was able to take us as far as the park entrance where we then hired a jeep to complete the final half hour of the journey. By the time we had purchased tickets, hired a guide, arrived at the guesthouse, and eaten lunch it was a little after 3pm. Visitors are required to return to the guesthouse by 5:30 PM, but the guide said we would have time for a hike, if we went quickly...famous last words. Sporting leech socks, bandanas, and long sleeved shirts we set off into the forest.

As I later learned, there are a number of trails that are relatively flat and make for wonderful strolls through the rainforest. You would think our guide would have chosen one of these routes since we were short on time, but no. Instead, he led us on a ridiculous mountain trek that normally takes 4 hours to complete, we had 2. I quickly became acquainted with leeches and was constantly flicking them off of my shoes and pants (agh, trousers!). The trail itself was rigorous - it was great training for the Tough Mudder race, which I am still determined to enter someday. We spent about 2 hours scrambling up the side of the cliff, but the view at the end was absolutely worth the hard work. We spent a half hour fannying around (as Lizzie would say) on the mountain top taking silly pictures and enjoying the view, only to realize too late that a huge rainstorm was on its way and we only had 15 minutes to descend the mountain. Ok, it really wasn't a mountain, more a very, very tall hill, but it definitely felt like a mountain! By the time we had gathered our packs and taken one last swig of water, we found ourselves caught in a downpour. We raced, and I literally mean raced, down the side of the mountain. Swinging from trees and jumping from ledge to ledge, we looked like a troop of monkeys taking the forest by storm. It was exhilarating! We made it back to the guesthouse by 6:15 PM soaked, but amazingly, all in one piece. We spent a few minutes peeling leeches off of ourselves, had tea, showered off, and enjoyed a fantastic curry dinner. Ashani fed 2 leeches that evening, the rest of us managed to avoid them.

Fortunately, I had brought a mosquito tent with me (thank you again, Liz!) because the mosquito nets in the guesthouse were all tattered and torn. The mosquitoes were really not a problem, but as I lay in my tent I kept thinking about creepy, crawly leeches inching all over my body. To be fair, they don't carry diseases and are commonly used in traditional medicine. I would rather have a leech on me than a tick that is likely carrying Lyme, but in the end I just prefer to avoid bodily invasions by insects. As you may expect given my wild imagination, I didn't get much sleep that night.

A guide was supposed to meet us at the guesthouse at 7:30 the following morning, but by 8:30 he still hadn't shown; the park entrance was a 30min jeep ride away and the morning was quickly slipping away. We didn't want to pay for another jeep (about $10 - yes, we're cheap) so we asked one of the park rangers for an alternative. He directed us to a trail that was supposedly a shortcut. Actually, it didn't prove too bad. It took us a little over an hour to hike to the entrance, find a guide, and return to the trail head. The hike itself was less grueling than the one we took the previous day, but it was not a good day for me as far as the leeches were concerned. At one point I discovered a leech on my neck; fortunately, Kumara was able to pull it off before it began feeding. Later, I felt a tickling sensation in my armpit; to my horror there was indeed a large leech there. Ashani impressively dealt with the situation while Ilja and Lizzie distracted me.

Despite the leeches, it was a nice hike. However, I was really depressed to find the rainforest "empty." My first experience with a rainforest was in Ecuador in Yasuni National Park during my study abroad trip at BU. My professor had described Yasuni as the most bio-diverse place in the WORLD - what does that even mean? I didn't truly understand until I went on this trip to Sinharaja. In Yasuni, there are literally animals and insect and plants everywhere. You could spend an entire day in a meter-squared plot and not become bored because there are so many things to see. The forest is a cacophony of birds, monkeys, and insects - there rarely is a quiet moment. Sinharaja, on the other hand, was disturbingly silent. A single bird call would occasionally break the monotonous drumming of rain and I saw only a handful of insects. We did see some flocks of endemic birds and 2 snakes, but that was about it. It hasn't always been like this, there used to be unimaginable numbers of species here, but thanks to human activities most of it is gone.

Environmental activists are always spreading the messages to think "green," to modify our behaviors so that we can save the whales, save the elephants, save the tigers, etc. But what they are really saying is, we need to make changes so we can save our species, Homo sapiens. As we lose biodiversity, humans become vulnerable: think climate change, think food and water shortages, think disease outbreaks, think over-population, think habitat loss for HUMANS. There have been mass extinctions throughout the history of the earth - the world keeps turning and life continues to exist, new species replace the ones that have been lost. Do we want to be one of the species that is replaced?

I don't mean to cast a dark cloud on humanity or to give the impression that it is too late to salvage what's left. Rather, I hope to move people into action! We humans are undoubtedly very intelligent beings and despite some character flaws, I believe many of us harbor truly incredible traits: compassion, justice, and respect, to name just a few. If we, as a species, can make the decision to moderate our actions with these characteristics, there is little we cannot achieve. There is still time to turn things around, IF we act quickly and decisively. We can't continue to hide our heads in the sand and ignore the challenges facing humanity- it's time to put on our game faces and stand up to reality. And now I'll leave you to think about all of that!

Adventures and Misadventures: Installment 1

I just got back from a long, hot day in the field and I am beat, but it's been a while since my last entry and I feel I have a lot to share. Where to start is my only question. I guess I can begin with some stories about my project.

This year I am working with Sameera, you probably remember him from last year, Kumara, a new addition to the team, and Ashani, who is a new Master's student from England. For the past 2 weeks, we have been visiting farms in 2 regions: the Galpa area and the Dahaiyagala area. These are locations where I hope to set up my study sites. We have been chatting with farmers to gather preliminary data on the crops they grow, the frequency of human-elephant conflict (from here on out I will denote it HEC), and their willingness to participate in my study. So far, we have visited about 25 farms and everyone is on board! Many of the households are places we visited last year when I made a more detailed property survey so we are mostly just saying hello again and renewing friendships.

Like last year, the families are eager to feed us. In one day I had 3 coconuts, a papaya, tamarind, peanuts, and was given a handful of beautiful peacock feathers. Also like last year, Sameera is my translator. Although his English is pretty good, he has the habit of picking out only the key words I say and creating his own meaning. Obviously, you can see how this may be an issue. What follows is an example of the kind of miscommunication that can arise...

Sameera, Ashani, Kumara, and I returned to a household that we had surveyed the day before because I decided I wanted to measure the distance from the electric fence that borders the park to the property line. As we walked through the property, Ashani spotted a pile of dead manioc stalks that would be perfect for the mud house she is planning on building (more on that later). Before I go on, let me describe manioc. It's a tall thin, stalk, about 10 feet in height and is harvested for it's roots, which look like the mandrakes from the Harry Potter films. For those of you who aren't familiar with mandrakes, imagine elongated potatoes. Ok, back to the story. Ashani saw the dead stalks and asked Sameera if the farmers would mind if she took some. I could tell that Sameera had misunderstood the question, but before I could say anything he ran off to ask for the farmer's permission. Ashani and I are still not quite sure what Sameera thought she had asked. At any rate, Sameera's discussion with the farmer resulted in the farmer running into the manioc field, in the opposite direction of the dead sticks, machete in hand and a confused Ashani trailing uncertainly behind. It quickly became apparent that the farmer intended to chop down a live manioc plant, so Ashani began yelling for Sameera in the hopes that she could clarify what it was she wanted and spare the plant. Unfortunately, I had been occupying all of Sameera's attention trying to explain that we say "time is flying by," not "time is a wind." By the time Sameera reached Ashani and the farmer it was too late. Glowing with the excitement of offering a wonderful gift, the farmer tore the entire plant from the ground. In the end, we left with 4 kilos of manioc and a stout walking stick. Despite numerous attempts at clarifying, Sameera is still baffled by Ashani's original question.

As communication is not our team's strong point, Ashani and I often have to figure things out for ourselves and assess certain situations independently - for instance is it safe to climb the treehouse in the farmer's backyard? From my experience the answer is often no, but there are some things people just have to learn for themselves. During one of our trips to the Dahaiyagala area, Ashani spied a particularly tempting treehouse that she was dying to climb. She reached the top with no issue, but as she was heading back down she put her weight on a weak rung that the farmer had failed to warn her about. Her foot crashed through the rotten stick, nearly causing her to plummet 20 feet to the ground. Fortunately, she caught herself with her hands and made it down without further incident. I have learned there are some temptations in Sri Lanka that you just avoid; no matter how attractive the treehouse, sometimes it is best just to say no.

Perfect Setting

It's 6:30 in the evening, the sun is setting, and a cool breeze is rustling through the leaves. Finally I can breathe a sigh of relief - the worst of the afternoon heat has been swept away. I am sitting on our porch and in the distance I can see mountains rising up from the green plains. In less than a month most of the greenery will have taken on a brownish tinge as the country enters into the height of the dry season. Thick, cotton ball clouds hang over the mountains, but they will dissipate before they reach us; a shower is a rare event between the months of May and August. Most farmers planted their dry season crops in March/April so already rice paddies are filling in and sugar cane is shooting way up.

A group of babblers, very noisy birds, are hopping around in the driveway fighting over a scrap of food. Early in the day, Lizzie and I spotted an Indian Roller perched on a stump in the yard. They are very colorful birds - this one had a bright blue body and orange patches on its faces. We also saw a monitor lizard on during our afternoon walk. The cat I mentioned in the previous blog is still hanging around. Lizzie and I constructed a barricade out of masking tape for the window gratings in our room last night in an attempt to keep the cat out. So far it is working!

Time to take a quick shower after an afternoon of running and yoga (which attracted a lot of unwanted attention). Smells like Uncle is making roti and pol sambol for dinner - don't want to miss that!

Adventures en Route

I arrived at the field station two days ago. In total, I spent roughly 20 hours in the air so I am really happy to move around freely now! I traveled on my own until I reached the Dubai airport where I met up with Lizzie, a researcher who flew out from London to continue her PhD research in Uda Walawe. Lizzie was at the field station last summer, so you may remember her from some of my previous posts. Once we reached Colombo, we shared a car down to the field station.

While traveling solo, I made a couple of friends in the JFK airport: Miel and Ali. Both live in Dubai and were happy to pass the time before our 13 hour flight chatting and wandering around the tiny terminal to stretch our legs. We exchanged contact information, so if I ever have the opportunity to spend some time in Dubai, I now have two wonderful people to show me the sights! One of the great things about traveling is meeting people from all over the world. It still amazes me how naturally two strangers can strike up a conversation in an airport. It must have something to do with the shared experience of being far from home and the familiar. In any case, I was very happy to have company to distract me from the stress of flying!

Once I reached Dubai, I had 7 hours to kill before my next flight. I decided to walk around the enormous terminal and find a snack. I had just sat down to enjoy a cup of coffee and a croissant, thinking how well my travels had been going, when I noticed a gaping hole in each foot of my hiking boots. You have got to be kidding me. How had I not noticed this before I left? I would really like these shoes to see me through the summer, so I set off in search of duck tape. I asked a couple of vendors if they sold any, but to no avail. I finally found a store owner who let me snag some Sellotape she happened to have stuffed away in a drawer. Now quite as good as duct tape, but it will do for the moment. Actually, the addition of the tape enhanced the rest of my trip because I really looked the part of the seasoned backpacker - emerging from the depths of the wilderness in weathered field clothing, off to who knows where next! 30 hours into my trip I am sure I had also cultivated an aroma that added even more to my nomadic appearance.

I won't go into detail describing my 13 hour flight from NYC to Dubai - it was utterly boring. I couldn't sleep, which was a bummer. Instead, I found myself shifting my position every 15 minutes in an attempt to escape the cramped conditions. On the bright side, I was able to spend a lot of the time thinking about my PhD. project. I am beginning to realize that I have taken on quite a load and now spend the majority of my time trying to figure out how I am going to manage it. There are SO many details that have to be accounted for: funding, my schedule, finding farmers willing to participate in the study, the farmers' schedules, hiring a field assistant (who hopefully speaks English), training the field assistant, learning Sinhala, etc etc. This summer will really help me to hammer out the details and determine what is feasible. I also look forward to sitting down with my advisor(s) in the fall to sketch out a timeline for my research. My time this summer will be devoted less to data collection and more to site selection and setting up my experimental design. Even though I have not yet been out in the field visiting farms, just being in Sri Lanka has helped my creative thinking - I can feel the wheels turning, which is an excellent sign!

While I have been writing this entry, I have been interrupted several times - we have a bit of drama going on at the field station that involved a feral cat Ashoka has taken in. This tiny feline, who we are calling Amber at the moment, had a litter of kittens. My breakfast with Lizzie this morning was interrupted by high pitched yowling and hissing coming from the roof. We ran up to the roof to see what all the commotion was and discovered that Amber had been keeping her kittens in a nest of leaves under an eave, which had been discovered by a male cat - who was obviously not the father of these kittens. By the time we reached the roof, the male cat was slinking off, but we couldn't see Amber or her kittens. About half an hour later we heard another scuffle and shortly thereafter Amber brought a dead kitten to Ashoka's doorstep. It wasn't long until a second dead kitten was found. We buried the babies cooked an egg for Amber. I think this was probably Amber's first time as a mother, so hopefully next time she can find a better place to hide her litter.