The Sun Also Rises

Thursday 7 June 2007
Happy birthday to my first little nephew, who is 2 today!

I’ve been dreading this for many months. Nicaragua seems to randomly “spring forward” for Daylight Savings in some years and not to do it at all in other years. 2007 is one of those years when Daylight Savings is not observed, so since the end of January, the time of the sunrise has been creeping backward, earlier and earlier. This means that in order for me to get a full-day follow of the monkeys, I’ve had to keep getting up earlier and earlier. The worst is upon us now: the sun is rising at its maximally earliest time. Official sunrise is at 5:17am, and it is light enough to see by 4:55am. I’m getting up around 4:15 so that I can get ready, walk to the forest, and find the monkeys by the time they start their day. The good thing about having finally reached this point of maximal earliness is that at least I know it won’t get any worse than this. In fact, on June 10th, the sun will actually rise one minute later, and by the end of July, sunrise will be at 5:30. So if I can just hang in there for a few more days, I can start sleeping in—ever so gradually—again.

In addition to the earliness of sunrise, there are other reasons why I’ve been dreading this time of year. The return of the rains means that the path up to the forest (also used to transport livestock) is a slick of mud and slime; out in the forest I am soaking wet all the time; the trees have leaves again so it is difficult to see the monkeys; the mosquitoes are back in full force; and there are spiders everywhere. I have learned that my hiking boots are not so waterproof as they are supposed to be, and I am considering buying a pair of those rubber galoshes that the men wear when they are working in the fields. The past few days, the mosquitoes have been almost unbearable. No amount of DEET seems to deter them. At all times, they are swarming around me like an unwanted entourage. I’ve got to bat them away from the air in front of my nose just to take a breath. Their constant high pitch whine makes it seem like I am at an airport or around machinery. They are particularly fond of my knuckles, fingers, and ears, but they also bite me right through my clothes. I find myself wondering if it is possible to actually get woozy from blood loss resulting from mosquito bites. And I think of Professor Pablo, who compared Ometepe to other field sites he’s worked at in Panama and in the Amazon and said, “There are no mosquitoes on Ometepe.” If that's true, I'm not sure how long I would last in those other places.

But what I find worse than the mosquitoes is, of course, the spiders. When the rains stopped at the end of November, the spiders all but disappeared. I was jubilant. But ever since we had that bit of rain in April, I have kept my eyes peeled for them. There have been a few here and there, but as of yesterday—its official—they’re back for good. During the wet season, there is a particularly terrifying form of spider that is everywhere in the forest. It is red and black and gold, and although I have been assured by numerous people that it is “harmless,” I still don’t like it one bit. (The photo at the right was taken during my pilot study in 2004). After describing the spider to Aimee, she said it sounded kind of like a “banana spider” they had on Hawaii; that wouldn’t surprise me because this spider is most prevalent in the South Group’s scrappy home range where there are still banana trees growing amid the vines and early-regenerating trees as the forest re-emerges from the fields.

Yesterday I was following the South Group, and like always, was taking note of the type and quantity of spiders around me. What was there didn’t seem too threatening. A lot of spindly little things with sort of yellowish bodies that didn’t scare even me. I kept thinking, well, at least the red, black, and yellow spiders aren’t back yet. But at some point in the afternoon, I took a closer look at the spindly little things all around me. Thin little legs, the body yellow with a black splotch on it. I looked even more closely and realized that these things were juvenile morphs of the very same red, yellow, and black spiders I fear like no other. They’re back!! They don’t scare me too much when they are tiny like this, but I don’t know enough about spider life history to know how long I’ve got.

So I feel like its going to be an ugly finish to the end of the project. Much like my first marathon—I finished, but it was sure not pretty. The next week or so is going to especially nasty. Rob leaves tomorrow for a conference in the US, so I’ll be metaphorically running these difficult miles without him cheering me on. I like to believe I'm as tough as nails though; I’m sure I’ll make it.

At any rate, lest S.L. is reading, I haven't taken the day off-- I’ve stayed in from the forest to test some young Ficus leaves. Its lunchtime now and the soup’s on, so I’d better go. Thanks for reading!