The rains are back now and in full force. The dry season
drug on for so long I forgot how terribly miserable the rainy season can be:
hoards of buzzing biting insects, perpetually wet vegetation, drenched
unidentifiable monkeys, mold on things you never thought could mold, laundry
that takes a week to dry, and spending an entire day in the forest with wet
clothing and feet. But at the same time, the transition from dry to wet,
scorching to cool, dusty to moist, was a welcome one. The chirps of crickets, calls
of frogs, or drumming of rain on my tin roof lull me to sleep every night.
Trees that were dormant through the drought are now fruiting and food is
plentiful once again. The vegetation has grown thick and unruly in a few short
weeks, and with the mist tumbling from the trees in the morning and the
constant lightning flashes and thunder booms this place has the ambiance of a
true rainforest again.
Even with an abundant assortment of fruit and new vegetation
in the forest to feast on, the monkeys still venture into the village looking
for an easy meal from their human friends. I was in the village with Tws on
such a day recently.
I had been missing the majority of my group all morning and
didn’t think much of it until they started showing up. Every couple minutes a
monkey with a powdery white face appeared and rejoined the group. First
Fletcher, then Twin, and they just kept coming with their floured faces. I
couldn’t figure out where they were getting it. At this point we were on the
edge of the forest, next to the forester’s house, but far from the rest of the
village where they do their thieving. I wasn’t thrilled with their activities
but was definitely enjoying the effects of their binging; all my monkeys were
now resting with bellies full on the lawn near the forester’s house. I have
never eaten flour straight out of the bag but could imagine it might weigh you
down and make you drowsy, not to mention give you a bellyache. Our snooze
session was short lived and all the monkeys jumped up at the sound of a
slamming door and a handful more came running out of a rusty old shed in the
yard.
As it turns out, someone decided to store all their ugali
flour out here, in a beat up, run down shack on the edge of the forest, with
holes in the wall just big enough for a monkey to squeeze through. Not the best
decision on his part and definitely not good for my relationship with the
community. Some locals actually believe I control and communicate with the
monkeys. That explains why they run from the villagers but tolerate me, so
clearly, I am to blame for all their actions. After the man whose flour
supplies they annihilated busted them, the group took off into the forest to
seek refuge and I am not ashamed to admit, I was right behind.
I assumed there would be no more babies born this year,
figured birthing season was long over. You can imagine my surprise then, when
the assistants came back from the field on three separate occasions over the
course of a single week this past month to report that Ratchet, Gigi, and Soft
all had new infants.
Gigi and Soft are both in Gsb, the smallest of our study
groups, consisting of five females, two juveniles, and a male. This is the
group that split from the much larger Gsa and sought out new territory back in
October. These two new arrivals join the two born back in early January, Ns’
and Pody’s. In a matter of months the population of this splinter group
increased by 50%. These monkeys who I once thought were doomed to die at the
hands of poachers have continued to amaze us and are doing better than anyone
ever imagined. They now frequently utilize the nearby stream, a place where
they are nearly inaccessible to all human company, monkey watchers included. We
spend a lot more time bushwhacking up and down the steep banks and running back
and forth to the few places where crossing from one side to the other is
possible; it’s draining and stressful for us but exactly the opposite for them.
I hope it continues.
At the beginning of April I hopped the border and spent a
week in Uganda chasing chimps, hanging out with red colobus monkeys, and
white-water rafting the Nile. The rafting trip was insane, thrilling and
picturesque. We were caught in the middle of a rainstorm and there was nowhere
to hide. Refuge from the chilling rains was only found by immersing ourselves
in the warmer waters of the Nile. We marveled at flocks of cormorants and an
island full of bats disturbed into flight as we tore through the adjoining
rapids. Even though the majority of my vacation was spent in transit, a day to
Kampala, another to Fort Portal, time spent traveling back east to Jinga, and
finally one more day to cross the border and make the journey back to the
forest, it was all worth it.
After my invigorating and exhilarating tour of Uganda I returned
to my quiet empty cabin tucked away in the forest. I have grown accustomed to
the solitude and loneliness that comes with being a field researcher, but that
is about to change. I am currently preparing myself and the field site for the
invasion of graduate students, fellow researchers, and my replacements that are
all scheduled to arrive at the end of May. The field site will be a completely
different place, it will be as it was when I arrived almost a year ago, crowded
and busy, hectic and loud. But for right now, it’s still all mine, and of
course the monkeys’ who visit on a daily basis.
