It's gotten very wintry here. But somehow my thoughts have wandered to someplace warmer....
I turn off the alarm. It is 3:35 am. We have about an hour and half walk to our field site, and it is time to get ready. I grope for my headlamp.
It is pitch black except for the light of our headlamps. We all move slowly, stretching our limbs, getting our minds ready for the walk and the day ahead. We all check with each other that we have collected everything we need for the day. Items forgotten cannot be gotten later.
Much of what we need we got ready the night before. We all finish our light breakfast of cocoa or coffee, and start on the trail.
Darkness in the rainforest is a very interesting experience. Your world becomes one of sound, smell, and the small circle of light that your headlamp or flashlight provides. Tiny sticks become trip wires, causing one to stumble frequently. Nightjars and the occasional owl serenade us as we walk. It remains pitch black the first hour of the walk. This is the stuff of childhood nightmares.
Sometimes we might see a snake on the trail. We have walked the trail numerous times before. We make various kinds of small talk, to keep our minds awake. Plus, we are all still somewhat strangers to each other, and we all want to learn more about what makes each of us, us.
Near 5 am, the faintest of sunrise light is coming. Headlamps are still fully necessary. The trees block out nearly all light on the forest floor, so only the tops of the trees right now see the faint beams of sun. We turn off the main trail, and take our side trail marked on the GPS to our field site.
Now, we become more aware of other sounds coming from the forest. The first rays of light have begun to awaken the daytime birds of the forest. First, only a few sporadic calls here and there. A guan calls. A forest falcon. We focus hard on the trail - it is not as well trodden in here, and parts of it are near a drainage, so a poorly placed foot can make one fall.
It's 5:10 now. In the brief time it took us to get to our first "landmark" (the crazy palm), the forest begins to really come alive. The motmots are calling fairly consistently now, as well as the attillas. Other birds chime in, many with the only song you will hear from them that day. An Allpahuayo Antbird. Pearly Antshrike. Rufous-capped Antthrush. As the minutes tick by, the light increases with each step, and soon I have my headlamp flipped off. We are very near the field site, timed just perfectly so that we can open the nets with the peak of bird activity.
In ten brief minutes, all the nets are open, and we have gotten all of ourselves to the banding station. We efficiently open the tarps, and get ourselves organized for the 10 hour day ahead. We check all the equipment, make sure everything is square, and take a short breath. I pull out breakfast - drinkable yogurt, bread, butter, marmalade. It doesn't seem like much, but it is enough to satisfy our empty stomachs. There are only four of us, so we know we will all have plenty of work.
Forty minutes after first opening the nets, it is fully light out, though the sun is not very high in the sky. The rainforest provides oodles of shade - but pesky insects as well. Not until later in the season are they bad enough that I feel a need to put on bug repellent. We all get up and head to the nets with cloth bird bags, ready to remove birds from nets, bag them, bring them back the station, and band them.
Every forty minutes we go check the nets, and bring birds back. Towards about noon, the forest has really quieted down, and we only get one or two birds per "net run." This is the ideal time to have lunch as well - bread, avocado, crackers, and tomato, with mayonnaise and aji for condiments. And cookies for dessert. Somehow, we manage to work on this quantity of food.
Near 3 pm, we start to get things ready for the final net checks, and closing. The forest is beginning to come alive again, however. Birds are becoming active again, as they look for enough food to last them through the twelve hour night. And the light is fading as well, even with sunset 2 hours away.
The last net runs get kind of frantic. Only four of us out there, and we catch 10 birds! Two of us each go in separate directions, going to the ends of the net array, and closing the nets as we walk back, and taking the birds out. We woop back and forth, letting the others know how many birds we have, as well as where we are, and what nets are closed. We bring birds to the station, and two of us process while the others clean debris out of the nets and furl them for the next day.
It's 5 pm, and we're feeling frantic. And hungry! And there is still a ninety minute walk back to camp. But we are finishing the last bird. And finally have the station getting closed up. And all the gear packed. We look around, make sure we have everything, and begin walking. We all have our headlamps on and ready to go - but there is perhaps enough light to get us back to the main trail.
Near 6 pm, we have finally gotten to the main trail, and it is already pitch black. And we still have about an hours walk to go. This is a great group, however - we always find completely random topics to occupy our conversation on the way home, and the "jungle gym" always gives us a little adventure to enjoy on our walk back.
7 pm and we have made it back to camp. And god bless the Peruvians: they have dinner ready to serve! We all come in, change what clothes we need (we are all dripping with sweat), and sit down to a well deserved dinner.
And relax. And talk about the day. And discuss our question of the night.
And prepare to repeat the routine the next day.
And then go to bed.
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