Night Symphony

Chirp, creak, hum, buzz, screech.  Whoever said the forest is a quiet, peaceful place has never tried to fall asleep on BCI.  In a room enveloped by trees the raucous symphony playing outside our windows often makes sleep elusive.   As soon as the lights go out, the night swells with the music of a congregation of astonishing new voices.

Creeping from the forest’s silhouette, the night brings out a new cast of players.

Every inch of the forest is alive and the more intently I listen, the more life I hear.  Buzzing insects; screeching bats, tiny chirping tungara frogs; mammals rustling in the leaves on the forest floor; the whispered wing beats of night birds.  Even the robust hammering of rain pellets against my roof, and the ticks, snaps, and thuds of distant branches falling to the ground or on the roofs of buildings, fill the night with their steamy melody.

Of the 120 mammal species found on BCI, it’s the 72 species of bats that rule the night.

Everything moves.  Everything breathes.  Everything is animated with music and energy.  Listen long enough and the weary trekker, nestled in the cocoon of her bed, begins to appreciate the lullaby of the always-awake jungle symphony. 

- Katrina Macht

Jaws and Claws

Every year when I travel to Barro Colorado Island one specific theme emerges amidst all the astonishing sights and sounds of the forest.

The story begins at boat docks of Barro Colorado Island.

The year of the trogon, the year of the monkey, the year of the tamandua.  This is definitely the year of the crocodile.  I should have known that crocs were going to take center stage when the first animal I saw stepping off the boat was a small mama stretched out on the lake bank, catching the last of the sun’s rays.  My one-woman welcoming committee.

Little Mama Crocodile is quite the welcoming committee.

But “Little Mama” in no way prepared me for what was to come.  Of course I already know crocodiles are mighty predators, and since hunting them was banned in 2000, their numbers have increased exponentially.  I also know this is nesting season for both crocs and iguanas, which doesn’t bode well for the iguanas.  Still no amount of prior knowledge prepared me for what I was about to witness.  A once-in-a-lifetime predation event – at least once in my lifetime.

It all began unceremoniously enough.  As I was relaxing on the balcony of one of the laboratory buildings after a late afternoon hike in the forest, I spied a hefty crocodile near the boat docks on the opposite side of a mesh fence constructed around the perimeter of this part of the island.  We’ll call her Bertha, and Bertha was one big, bad, mean and ugly looking crocodile.

Duuun dun duuun dun dun dun dun dun dun dun…

Just a few meters away, on the ramp leading down to the boat docks, was a solitary iguana, seemingly unaware that a flimsy fence was all that stood between her and certain death.  We’ll call her Iggy.

Innocent Iggy prior to the incident.

I hadn’t yet seen any iguanas this visit and was eager to capture a photo of her.  Stealthily, I crept down the sidewalk leading to the docks, digitally memorializing the moments with every step I took.  Inching my way closer and closer to Iggy, Bertha suddenly shot straight up in the air, seizing a totally different iguana on her side of the fence.  As she rose up I saw Iggy’s cousin hanging out from either side of her jaws before she dove into the lake with her new found prey.

One less iguana on the banks of BCI.

Everything happened so fast; I thought Bertha was coming over that fence for sure and either Iggy or I were goners.  What a total surprise to see in her grasp an iguana I never knew was there.

Diving into the lake to enjoy a tasty late afternoon iguana snack. 

Iggy looked “all shook up.”  After Bertha disappeared into the water she cautiously leaned over the far side of the dock ramp, peering into the water below.

What just happened here?

About that same time I heard a rustle in the leaves at the water’s edge and saw two or three more iguanas hustling up the stalks of the Heliconia, trying to get as high up and as far away from Bertha as they could. 

One iguana sacrificed so the others can live and nest another day. 

Big Bertha remains a formidable force of which to be wary.

- Katrina Macht