Dracula Youth Reserve Expedition: Day 4

Callie’s morning routine always started with a sunrise drone flight. In the early mornings, clouds were usually in the valleys below us, rising higher throughout the day and culminating in some afternoon rain. Photo by Callie Broaddus

Friday, November 13, 2020

Written by Natalia Espinoza

We started off our fourth morning by joining Javier for the first early session of mist-netting, which is essential to monitor both the diversity and the health of the birds on our site. The previous afternoon, Daniel Valencia and Milton, with help and instruction from Javier, had cleared a path and installed two 2.4 m high, 12 m long, mist nets (very fine nets to catch birds for scientific research) at the forest edge of the clearing above camp.

Geovany, Milton, and Javier prepare to process the day’s first birds. Photo by Callie Broaddus

While we did not catch anything during the first hour, our patience would soon be rewarded. By 8:10, we had caught two birds, and Javier began examining our first catch of the day, a juvenile male Violet-tailed Sylph. At 8:12, another hummingbird (pronounced hummingbear by our beloved Javier) fell in the net.

A 4.9g Violet-tailed Sylph, the first capture of the day. Photo by Callie Broaddus

Within minutes, six more birds were caught: a Tawny-breasted Hermit, a Handsome Flycatcher, a Tropical Parula, a Red-faced Spinetail, and two striking male Flamed-faced Tanagers. Javier patiently untangled each bird while lovingly talking to them. He carefully placed each bird into separate white cloth bags and proceeded to close the nets for the morning.

Javier disentangles a Flame-faced Tanager from the mist net. Photo by Callie Broaddus

Javier weighed each bird by placing it in a small container or tiny tube for just a few seconds. Gently placing the bird’s neck between his index and middle finger to more easily and safely control the bird, he then took measurements of wing and tail length, leg size for banding, and other health metrics like fat content and the presence of parasites.

Javier measures the beak of a Tropical Parula. Photo by Callie Broaddus

Once all measurements were recorded, Javier switched the bird’s position in his hand so that Callie could take a few quick pictures while Pearson or I held the strobe. Finally, he would ask one of us to place our hand at ground level, and we would feel an almost weightless flutter as Javier placed the bird on our palm for release.

Flame-faced Tanager. Photo by Callie Broaddus

We learned a few important lessons from our first bird monitoring session: Mist nets are not to be opened on rainy days, as they become visible to, and therefore avoided by, birds. They are also not to be opened on clear sunny mornings which leave birds overexposed and at risk of overheating. We learned to prioritize hummingbirds and entangled or distressed birds, as well as those exposed to the sun and larger birds capable of damaging the delicate nets. By the end of our two-hour monitoring, we had recorded a total of 14 individuals of 12 species. Grinning, Javier told us that he had only set nets once before on our plot, and none of today’s species were repeats from that initial effort.

This Tawny-bellied Hermit was content to sit for a few moments before flying off. Photo by Callie Broaddus

Back at camp, the herpetologists had been busy swabbing each frog collected the prior night for evidence of chytrid fungus—a blight currently wreaking havoc on amphibian populations worldwide.

Mario, Miguel, Juan Pablo, and Daniel Chávez took over the breakfast table to swab frogs for chytrid fungus and to begin processing the finds of the previous night.

After this process was done, I assisted Callie in taking the necessary frontal, ventral, dorsal, and profile photos that document the unique details of each individual, as well as some images in our outdoor natural quasi-studio or even down at the stream running through camp. This was always a two-or three-person job, as the frogs were liable to jump so quickly and erratically out of the camera’s viewfinder that we were in constant fear of losing them (though we never did)! 

Rhaebo colomai photographed in a natural outdoor setting, ex-situ. This endangered frog would later be returned to the exact GPS point at which it was collected. Photo by Callie Broaddus

Juan Pablo and Javier photograph Rhaebo colomai at the stream near camp.

That afternoon I went on my first monitoring hike with the members of the herp team to get some footage of them in action. In order to get ready for the night hike, we all took a nap after lunch, a luxury that would only repeat itself once for the rest of the expedition. We woke up to Miguel’s voice yelling “monos!” (monkeys) and quickly sprinted up the steep hill next to camp with Callie’s equipment, but unfortunately, the monkeys vanished the moment we arrived. Disappointed, we decided to go back to our tents and sleep for just a little longer.

A typical mid-day camp scene, with Mario still taking notes and everything hanging up to dry.

We were all ready to leave for our night hike at around 4:30pm, but a torrential downpour would delay our departure until 6. While delayed, we all sat around our lunch table, laughing at Mario and Miguel’s endless joking and storytelling. We were all surprised when Milton and Daniel V. returned from a day setting up data loggers carrying three more of our target species, A. coynei, a Pristimantis labiosus, and a new species of lizard for the trip, Pholidobolus vertebralis! 

Atelopus coynei photo by Callie Broaddus

Motivated by these new finds, Juanito, Pearson, the Daniels, and I left for our night hike. Not surprisingly however, it was quickly interrupted at our first creek. Pearson, who had crossed this same creek the previous night, said that it was unrecognizable because of the rise in water level. We waited around an hour, hoping that the water level would go down a little so that we could get to our transects. Pearson and I turned our flashlights off and enjoyed the absolute darkness of the forest. Unfortunately, it didn’t stop raining, and the creek kept growing. Resigned, we returned to camp without capturing a single herp or taking a single photo. 

Natalia returns from her hike through a torrential downpour.

When we got back to camp, my boots were half-filled with water. We returned to find Callie still hard at work photographing the finds from the last 24 hours and Javier and Milton digging a veritable mote around camp. Pearson, Daniel Chavez, and I joined in on the photoshoot, and Daniel got a chance to get a one-on-one photography lesson from our incredible lead photographer, Callie. 

A minuscule Pristimantis hectus sits on Pearson’s hand. Photo by Daniel Chávez

This was by far the wettest, muddiest night of the entire expedition. At dinner, we all huddled around our table and with mugs of hot cocoa. We were drenched, exhausted, and sore. In a bid to be helpful, Daniel Valencia tried to crack and stretch my back by following Daniel Chavez’s instructions with unsuccessful yet hysterical results. Our night ended with the first of many laugh attacks as Callie and I got into our tent and reviewed the pictures of this failed back-stretching endeavor. The camp fell asleep to our prolonged, stifled giggles.

The herp team had such a successful expedition that their work often carried through the entire evening, late into the night. In retrospect, this made for quite an odd looking dinner table!

Outtakes: Proficient though Daniel Valencia may be at identifying birds, we weren’t quite as confident in his back-cracking skills when he gripped Natalia’s head instead her shoulders! Natalia’s face says it all.