Guess what? The bonobos haven't appear yet. But leaving apes on aside,
this period has also had advantages and one of them is getting to know
better the wildlife that surround us.
Besides the bonobos and the humans, we share the forest with several
other primates. The four most commonly spotted are the Tshuapa red
colobus (/Piliocolobus tholloni/), black mangabeys ( Lophocebus
aterrimus), Wolf's monkeys (/Cercopithecus wolfi/) and Red-tailed monkey
(C. ascanicus). They can be found in many cases foraging together,
though normally they alarm call as soon as they spot us. However, after
so many search days there is a group of red colobus that seems to be
becoming habituated (now they look at you, call a peer and when some of
them decide they don't like you, they escape, but not as quick as
usual).Less commonly, we can also see the Angolan Pied Colobus (Colobus
angolensis), very rarely the golden-bellied mangabey (Cercocebus
chrysogaster) and recently we even saw a Brazza's monkey (Cercophitecus
neglectus) when crossing the river to make a visit to our colleagues in
the savanna. After the sunset it's common to hear the robot-like
vocalizations of the Demidoff's galagos (Galagoides demidoff) that go
out of their family nests jumping few meters from ground like fluffy
ninjas, while fruit and insectivore bats cross the transects sometimes
scarce centimeters from you (wondering how feasible is getting a deadly
illness if a drop of their saliva happens to drop into your eye given
that they come so close...we are not hypochondriac, it's just that we
are convinced that the zombie apocalypses will start here!...never
mind...).
Insectivores and rodents make a big contribution to the mammal
inhabitants of the forest, but in general they are quite skittish. One
of my favourites is the four-toed elephant shrew (Petrodromus
tetradactylus) which, as many other animals in the forest, when you
approach runs a couple of meters and then stay still hoping that you
don't see it. Fairly frequently we see squirrels , but generally too
quick as to determine the species. We are quite familiar though with a
brush-tailed porcupine (Atherurus africanus) that wonders around camp
during the night trying to feed on our bankufu (manioc roots). Iko, is
how we call it, which is the local name for the species. Much less well
looking than its southern counterpart.
Mongooses are famous to flee as soon as we approach, so do the leopards
so far, luckily, and only one researcher has seen the famous golden
cat(/Felis aurata/) which goes by the nice sounding local name of Lowa
undu. In my case, the only carnivore that I have spotted frequently (I
might crossed a leopard, but escaped to fast to confirm) has been the
African civet (Civettictis civetta), one that sometimes wanders around
the latrines and even the lab and that I fondly call Massacre, even if
their diet wouldn't suggest so. And recently I was glad to see a tiny
linsang (Poiana sp.)
Tree pangolins (/Phataginus tricuspis/) and long-tailed pangolins
(Uromanis tetractyla) are seen once every month or so, much more
frequently that the poor Giant pangolin (Smutsi gigantea) which,
according to the local tradition, if spotted, it must be killed and eaten.
Forest elephants are a constant fear, but we haven't cross them for
sure. We have seen their traces, especially in the swamps, and we had
been scared by noises at night that thought were them, but could also
had been red river hogs (Potamochoerus porcus), far more abundant.
During the night we have a water chevrotain (Hyemoschus aquaticus),
Inkuta, almost the camp pet (no body feeds it or anything, but it's
adorable). They look like duikers without preorbicular glads and with
tusks.
Finally, there is no day in the forest without scaring at least one
duiker who, according to Kingdon field guide to African Mammals, have
ones of the most complex brains of all bovids...which doesn't say much
about the family...The most commonly seen is the blue duiker
(Cephalophus monticola), and then, we know that have the Black-fronted
duiker (C.nigrifrons), Peter's duiker (C.callipygus) and Bay duiker
(C.dorsalis) but, generally we can't see them so well as to tell them
appart. Once I found a Yellow-backed duiker (C.silvicultor) in the
middle of the transect when looking for bonobos. It took him a while to
decide if it should run away or not at, after it did, he came back
shortly after just to flee again when notized than I was still
there...bovids...
Wednesday, September 25, 2013
Mammal sightings in the Congo forest
Friday, September 20, 2013
Pas de bonobos, pas de trace
Now it's official, I have spent more time wandering around the jungle
looking for bonobos than running after them. The dry season, presumibly,
made them stay away from our study area most of the time between June
and now and we have hardly see them during these months...maybe the
Haumania looks greener on the otherside of the river, who knows.
Following bonobos is, as any advertisement for a position would say,
very physically and psychologically demanding, and drives you to levels
of stress that I had not known before. However it is not comparable with
the lack of them, the constant axiety of searching and being unable to
make plans because of the uncertainty of when they will show up...which
is normally in the most inappropiate moment and just long enough to
drive us crazy but not to collect much data before disapearing again
beyond the boundaries of the study area. Join this with constant minor
problems of supplies, energy and communication in a Babel tower camp
with random people forced to spend more time together than expected and
you will have interesting results. Stressful but enriching, somehow.I
feel like going through an intensive course on human nature and
behaviour, plus the walks alone in the forest brought about many inner
conversations long delayed that are poping up topics that needed to be
fixed for long but never had the chance of stopping and go through
them...well, blame the lariam and the nicotine withdraw, but I wouldn't
be the first of having revelations under a tree...
Anyway, the rainy season is pushing to take its place. The days are
hotter and drier, the storms more frequent, the Annonidium falls ripe
and the bees are again buzzing around the dinning table from sun to sun
so, hopefully, the bonobos will appear soon...
looking for bonobos than running after them. The dry season, presumibly,
made them stay away from our study area most of the time between June
and now and we have hardly see them during these months...maybe the
Haumania looks greener on the otherside of the river, who knows.
Following bonobos is, as any advertisement for a position would say,
very physically and psychologically demanding, and drives you to levels
of stress that I had not known before. However it is not comparable with
the lack of them, the constant axiety of searching and being unable to
make plans because of the uncertainty of when they will show up...which
is normally in the most inappropiate moment and just long enough to
drive us crazy but not to collect much data before disapearing again
beyond the boundaries of the study area. Join this with constant minor
problems of supplies, energy and communication in a Babel tower camp
with random people forced to spend more time together than expected and
you will have interesting results. Stressful but enriching, somehow.I
feel like going through an intensive course on human nature and
behaviour, plus the walks alone in the forest brought about many inner
conversations long delayed that are poping up topics that needed to be
fixed for long but never had the chance of stopping and go through
them...well, blame the lariam and the nicotine withdraw, but I wouldn't
be the first of having revelations under a tree...
Anyway, the rainy season is pushing to take its place. The days are
hotter and drier, the storms more frequent, the Annonidium falls ripe
and the bees are again buzzing around the dinning table from sun to sun
so, hopefully, the bonobos will appear soon...
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