Expedition: Day 7
Orange-breasted Fruiteater. Photo by Callie Broaddus.
Tuesday, September 24th
Written by Carter Ries
I woke up, and as I stood, the smell of smoke overwhelmed me. I thought that something had burned down, but thankfully it was just the fire that kept us warm in the night. I went to see if Lucy and Callie were awake, and much to my surprise, they were already out and about with Daniel, birding. I went outside and stood among the clouds for a bit, listening to nature, before taking out my drone to start collecting aerial photos of the campsite. As we only planned to have two mornings in camp (though we actually wound up having three), Callie explained that it was critical to make use of all the morning light we got, before the clouds rolled in midday. We had made a plan the night before—Callie would video birds, Lucy would video the team birding, and I would fly the drone.
Camp, with the Andean Chocó surrounding us. Photo by Carter Ries.
I heard Daniel making his bird calls in the distance, and not long after, a bird responded–and so the morning went. Callie and Lucy were out for an hour or two, and the sun began to peak through the clouds, warming the land around me. I heard footsteps in the distance and around the corner, the three musketeers came hiking back, saying good morning. Callie and Lucy had the biggest smiles on their faces, because birding with such an experienced birder as Daniel had awarded them with sightings of several colorful birds—including the Plate-billed Mountain Toucan, the Orange-breasted Fruiteater, and the Toucan Barbet.
Daniel Valencia is a Reserva Youth Council member, an EcoMinga forest guard, and an expert birder. Learn more about him in this video! Photo by Lucy Houliston.
Plate-billed Mountain Toucan. Photo by Callie Broaddus.
As Callie and Lucy were unwinding, a little girl walked over and sat down on the opposite bench, facing me. She was the little sister of the camp cook—around eight or nine years old—and she was wearing a big smile. She began to speak to me in either rapid Spanish or Awa—either way, I could not understand a word. I shrugged to her to indicate that I didn’t know what she was saying, but that didn’t stop her from talking. She picked up some grass from the trampled ground and began playing with it, looking slightly bored. I picked up some grass as well and decided to mimic her every move. At first, she didn’t realize, but she soon caught on.
She would do the craziest movements to see if I could copy her properly. If I couldn’t, she would call me out on it. She then threw her knotted grass at me and I tossed mine at her. We began a war of grass throwing and we sat there for at least half an hour just picking up dead grass and trying to hit the other person. She won most of the time.
Our youngest camp companion, a member of the local Awa community. Photo by Callie Broaddus.
Callie then came out of our camp structure and went into an opening to set up a satellite unit for our scheduled classroom talk through Exploring by the Seat of Your Pants—a program that brings explorers and scientists into classrooms live through Zoom/Youtube. Sadly, as soon as the sun had come, it had disappeared behind an ever-growing cloud. As the cloud encompassed the area, the rain began to fall, and the animals began to stir. We grabbed a tarp to cover the satellite so it wouldn’t get wet, and within minutes, Joe, the event moderator, called. Dozens of classrooms had tuned in live, and we could see eight or nine classes on screen. We gave them a tour of the area we were camping in, told them about our work, and how they could get involved. After about 20 minutes, the signal cut out, and we lost the classroom just when we were meant to answer questions!
Though our signal cut out at the end, the video is available to watch on YouTube!
When the signal cut, we were once again completely isolated from the outside world. But with our precious time ticking away in the rainforest, we had to get back to work, and spent the next hour or two conducting interviews and taking portrait photos of our team (See below: Daniel, Lucy, Carter, and Marco).
As we wrapped up with those, the little girl approached me again—this time with a hand full of pins. I looked at her confused, and she moved her hand closer to me, motioning for me to grab a pin. After I grabbed one, she handed me four more. She then led me over to a mattress. One at a time she threw a pin onto it. After one stuck straight up, she began to cheer. I understood what this game was, and so, with caution, we played. The points went back in forth, as she would get more pins upright than I would, and visa versa. After 20–30 minutes, I counted all of the pins to make sure none were lying around (or worse, embedded in the mattress), and put them away.
Photo by Callie Broaddus.
Suddenly overcome with exhaustion from the last few days of little sleep and long, muddy slogs, I laid down on the mattress, attempting to fight off sleep. As my eyes were closing, I asked Callie to wake me before she and Lucy began photographing the frogs and anoles from the previous night’s excursion. She said she would, and with that assurance, I fell asleep. According to Callie, she attempted to wake me up about 20 minutes later, so I wouldn’t miss out. She told me later that I shot up and shouted, “I UNDERSTAND! I UNDERSTAND,” before promptly flopping back onto the mattress, leaving Callie shellshocked.
Though we try to handle the animals as little as possible, the frogs seemed just as intent on taking a closer look at us as we were of them. Photo by Callie Broaddus.
I finally woke up when there was little to no light left, and helped take the remaining photos of the frogs and anoles. They were stunning creatures and all had their own beautiful markings. After we photographed one lizard and three frogs, we went inside to have dinner. We sat with the scientists and as we ate; there would be no herping that night, as both herpetologists had left earlier in the day to reach a higher elevation, and wouldn’t be back until the wee hours of the morning.
Hylocirtus sp. nov., a new species to science. Photo by Callie Broaddus.
Hylocirtus sp. nov. from below. Photo by Lucy Houliston.
I was the first to go to sleep, but—as I learned the next morning—I decided to talk in my sleep again. As Callie and Lucy were heading to bed, I apparently called out, “Goodnight, Lucy!” Callie asked, affronted, “What about me?” I immediately responded, “No, no, I think I’ve got enough good stuff.” I must have had photos on my mind. The night was cold, and the sounds were soothing. There’s nothing like sleeping in nature to find a deeper appreciation for it.
Anolis sp. Photo by Callie Broaddus.