Wednesday, November 11, 2020

Written by Natalia Espinoza

After staying indoors for over six months because of the Covid-19 Pandemic, I could hardly believe my eyes when I opened them on our first morning in Carchi. Callie, Pearson, Javier, and I had each been given our own rooms in the beautiful wooden construction of Casa Dracula, a luxury that we would only have for this first night of our expedition. As a corner bedroom, my room had two large windows on either side which were only partially covered by very thin curtains. When I woke up, the first thing I noticed was that we were surrounded by mountains covered in clouds. Pearson, as I would soon find out, had woken up to a flame-rumped tanager pecking at this window and the sound of Don Hector preparing some delicious fruit juice with his very loud blender.

The previous afternoon I had spoken at length with Don Hector about how, as an EcoMinga park guard, he is now protecting the land that once belonged to his father, then to him and a few of his brothers for decades. We talked about the mining pressures in the area and the importance of conservation. He told me that making slingshots to target birds used to be an all-too-common children’s game in El Chical. Seeing that many birds were being killed, he came up with the idea for his wife, who was a school teacher, to give her students sweets in exchange for slingshots, and to tell the kids to bring any hurt animals they may find to his home. Soon children were bringing injured animals to Don Hector, keen to follow up on their recovery, and Don Hector and his wife collected hundreds of slingshots in just one year. As Don Hector offered us a round of juice and coffee, I couldn’t help but smile at the thought of this kind man with wise eyes mending birds’ wings and collecting deadly toys to protect the forest.

Pearson and Geova waiting for departure outside of Casa Dracula. Photo by Natalia Espinoza

After breakfast, we each reorganized our bags so as to travel as lightly as possible to our first camp at Peñas Blancas (the geographic name of our site, which translates to “White Rocks”). As Callie finished charging and packing her camera gear, Pearson and I had a chance to start getting to know one of EcoMinga’s park guards, Geovany, “Geova” for short, who has one of the liveliest and most contagious laughs I have ever heard. Geova really took a liking to Pearson’s walking stick, playing with it repeatedly and discovering all of its features. Pearson, of course, promised to leave it behind once our expedition was over.

The Peñas Blancas unit of Dracula Reserve gets its name from this striking white cliff face, which marks the boundary of Dracula Youth Reserve, the property Reserva has been fundraising to protect all year. Photo by Callie Broaddus

Javier took this opportunity to explain that an important focus of our expedition would be to install data loggers throughout the reserve, an essential activity for EcoMinga’s team to compile data on the climate conditions of Dracula Reserve, especially in regards to humidity and temperature. As we would hear repeatedly throughout the expedition, our team of scientists was deeply worried by how dry the forest seemed for this time of year and frequently expressed the urgent need to understand climate data and variations better—not only in our reserve, but also at a national level.

At around 10 am, once we were done reorganizing, packing, and charging, we all jumped in Javier’s Mitsubishi for a thirty-minute bumpy drive to the trailhead where the three park guards who would be with us on expedition—Milton, Daniel and Geova—were waiting to help us with our packs and equipment. In fact, the drive was so bumpy that Javier would get his first flat tire of the expedition (yes, his first). Milton, Daniel and Geova then divided our heaviest luggage amongst themselves to carry in the traditional way—with a single strap placed over the forehead. It’s a method you have to see to believe:

The starting point of the hike to Peñas Blancas and the Dracula Youth Reserve was simultaneously breathtaking and devastating. From where we stood, we could look up and see the pristine forest covered in mist and clouds where we would be spending our next few days. However, immediately surrounding us, we could see recent destruction of several acres of forest now destined for naranjilla production and pastures for cattle. Javier explained that national statistics on deforestation often do not reflect this type of habitat and forest degradation because of its progressive nature; if you were to look on a map, you would not be able to notice one acre of forest cut down for pasture. However, as months and years go by, the acres accumulate. In fact, just fourteen months ago, on Reserva’s last expedition, Javier, Callie, Carter, and Lucy had been standing in this same spot, watching three Chocó toucans on a tall tree flanked by lush vegetation. We, however, were surrounded by downed, lifeless tinder. Callie and Javier pointed to the spot where they had seen the toucans, trying to identify the once tall tree amid the wreckage.

Milton carries gear to camp in a handmade basket, supported by a single strap over his forehead. Photo by Callie Broaddus

The initial hike was steep, but it was made easier by our frequent stops to photograph leaf cutter ants, microscopic orchids, and something we dubbed a “jelly slug” (something that has since been identified as a hoverfly larvae, thanks to invertebrate whiz Andy Better!).

At one point, Callie spotted a flower that seemed worth photographing, but upon noticing that it was a fallen flower, we all stopped to try to find its source. As I looked through the branches, I spotted what seemed to be the tip of a tail, which I followed all the way to its head and shiny eyes. There it was: a beautiful green snake that was sitting right in front of us, just above eye level, perfectly still and camouflaged. I calmly pointed it out, but didn’t even have time to blink before Pearson stretched his arm out and caught it—a reaction I wasn’t expecting, but that shouldn’t have surprised me in the least. After all, he is a herpetologist.

Pearson, Natalia, and Chironius monticola. Photo by Callie Broaddus — Pearson, Natalia, and *Chironius monticola.* Photo by Callie Broaddus

This was the first snake of the expedition and Callie’s first snake in Ecuador! Pearson showed us how to handle it, positioning each arm as if it is just another tree branch, allowing the snake to slither, arm to arm, until it comes to its own comfortable resting point. When first captured, the snake would open its mouth as if ready to bite, but Pearson assured me this was a defensive display; this species was harmless. We then all helped Callie photograph the snake, who assured us that we would all receive chocolate prizes for our discovery. We joked that we needed three more snakes, one for each of us, to make our trip complete and get extra chocolate prizes. (You’ll have to wait for later field notes to see how our prediction fared...)

Chironius monticola. Photo by Callie Broaddus — *Chironius monticola.* Photo by Callie Broaddus

We were still admiring the snake when a new unit of our expedition team caught up to us on the trail: Mario Yánez-Muñoz and Miguel Urgilés-Merchán of INABIO (Ecuador’s National Biodiversity Institute) and Juan Pablo Reyes-Puig and Daniel Chávez Jácome of EcoMinga, the four herpetologists we would be working alongside in the coming days. Excited to find us already in herpetological luck, Mario quickly identified our snake as Chironius monticola, one of the most common species of the area.

We resumed the hike at our searching-and-photographing pace, and soon ran into Milton and Daniel, who had already reached camp with our luggage and had returned to help the rest of the team. Daniel took charge of Callie’s heavy Atlas pack, where she had even more camera equipment. Milton disappeared down the trail behind us and, in what seemed like no time, had caught up to us again, this time carrying some of the herpetologists’ abandoned bags. As he sped past us, basket overflowing with luggage, he asked casually if he could help carry anything else. We had to laugh at our own comparative weakness; we all knew that Milton could easily have carried all of our gear and still beaten us to camp.

Milton, originally from the Taravita community of the indigenous Awá nationality, had been walking these mountains since he was a child, and it seemed like no one could keep up with him. It would soon become a recurring joke to compare our pace to Milton’s—a way to express our amazement at his speed and strength. There was Milton time, and then there was normal time. However fast Milton could complete a hike, we knew it would take us at least four times as long.

A huge wave of relief as we make it to the Dracula Youth Reserve property boundary at the top of the ridge. Daniel, Natalia, Javier, Callie, and Pearson.

This rule certainly held true today. Whereas we would later learn that Milton completed the hike to camp (fully-laden with gear) in 1.5 hours, we were already pushing 6.5 hours by the time we hit the top of the ridge, where the Reserva plot begins. By this point, it was starting to get late and we realized we needed to go at a more steady pace if we wanted to make it to camp before dark. As we walked along the ridge of the cliff that gives Peñas Blancas its name, we passed many room-like spaces formed by trees. We tried not to stop for any more pictures, but we couldn’t help ourselves upon finding four butterflies hanging in a single file from a single branch—a behavior none of us had seen before.

Four butterflies lined up on the thin branch of a tree. After momentarily being scared away, they fluttered back, lining up in exactly the same way on exactly the same branch. Mysteries of the forest… Photo by Callie Broaddus

Finally, after another 1.5 hours of hiking down the other side of the mountain we’d just climbed, we made it to camp. Milton had obviously been there for some time already, as we found a beautiful floral art piece marking entrance to camp on a nearby mossy rock—Milton’s handiwork, of course.

After hiking to and from camp twice in the time we hiked to camp once, Milton still had time to create a welcome sign for us. Photo by Callie Broaddus — After hiking to and from camp *twice* in the time we hiked to camp once, Milton still had time to create a welcome sign for us. Photo by Callie Broaddus

Our next few days would be spent living under the wooden columns and plastic roof where we had everything we needed: an outdoor kitchen; two tables—one of which would turn into our outdoor field photography studio, while the other would become both our dinner table and scientific lab where herpetologists would process and collect specimens; and plenty of muddy space for us to set up our tents. We also met our incredible chef, Seño Rocío, who would be with us throughout the rest of the expedition. After having our first taste of Seño Rocío’s delicacies and having regained some energy, we set off on our first herping hike with the whole team.

Mario explains exciting developments around this Pristimantis frog on our first night hike. Pearson, Javier, Natalia, Mario. Photo by Callie Broaddus — Mario explains exciting developments around this *Pristimantis* frog on our first night hike. Pearson, Javier, Natalia, Mario. Photo by Callie Broaddus

This was my herping experience with a group of herpetologists, and I can’t emphasize enough just how exciting it was. The forest is filled with surprises, and with many pairs of experienced eyes to spot them, we found quite a few. We even had the chance to see Hyloscirtus conscientia, the new species of torrent frog that was the subject of Reserva’s global species naming competition. Javier had found our little conscientia in the creek just a few meters away from camp.

Javier was also delighted to find the second-ever individual of a new orchid species he had discovered on a hike with Callie, Lucy, and Carter the previous year. When reunited at camp, the herpetologists set to work confirming detailed notes on the species they had collected, all of which we would have to photograph in the morning.

After a long night hike, INABIO herpetologists Miguel and Mario sat down to review their detailed notes on every species encountered and collected that night. Photo by Callie Broaddus

Callie and I were the last to get in our tent. The floor on which we were to sleep was muddy and filled with holes, and in an attempt to pave a level spot for myself, I meticulously filled them with a few t-shirts here and there. The last thing I remember before dozing off was hearing someone’s snores and the herpetologists’ voices as they talked among themselves from their separate tents about frogs and anoles, and I fell asleep thinking how incredible it was to be a part of this.

Dracula Youth Reserve Expedition: Day 2

Wednesday, November 11, 2020

Written by Natalia Espinoza