I spend a few days alone at the camp, while Vicente helps caravan all the other volunteers across savannahs and rivers to an estancia on higher ground. The four of them, Carlos, Sarah D., Matthew and Jose, have finished their time with the project and will wait to be picked up by a small plane, weather permitting, and taken out to Trinidad--the capital city of the Beni province of Bolivia. In the meantime, I keep track of the macaw chicks and find peace in the solitude of Isla Chiquita.
December 21st
Day number four solita (alone) here at the campamento - not another human being for miles all around. Lying in my tent with the rain fly off to better sleep through the still, hot night, I hear the rare-maned wolf for the first time. As I stare up at the silhouetted trees and the shadows cast by the nearly full moon, the howl-bark of the rare-maned wolf sends a shiver down my spine. Again and again, from the savannah just off the edge of the island, maybe just one hundred meters away, the wolf repeats his horrible shriek every 10-15 seconds for several minutes. Vicente and the other Bolivians always describe the voice of this wolf as "feisimo" (very ugly/horrible), which I thought a bit strange. How could a wolf howl be so horrid? But now I understand. It is not a howl, nor even a bark. It is a monotonously repeated shriek. Oh-there it is again, as I write. A little farther away now, maybe on island 2. And the pygmy owls are going mad, one giving the typical, staccato whistle and another giving a yelping call. I wonder what the rare-maned wolf eats. Is it actually a wolf or is it more closely related to a fox? Its shriek sounds similar to the "bark" of a fox I've heard in Argentina. Similar, but feisimo. There it goes again, now closer. Very, very close. I think I will go look for it.
December 22nd
Day 5 solita. I actually quite enjoy working alone out here. I am never sad or scared. At times I am bored, particularly in the sweltering, mosquito-filled afternoons, between lunch and the afternoon nest watch. But that is normally a time of boredom, alone or not. The last two nights I have taken to swinging in my hammock before I go to bed-sitting cross-legged under the moonlight, and rocking fast enough that the mosquitoes have a harder time biting me, and singing. I sing all the songs I know, which is not very many. Sometimes I hear strange noises and I stop singing to listen-the strange whistling "Wooeee-Chiu" bird. Pygmy owls. The horrible howl-bark of the rare-maned wolf. Last night I couldn't sleep. The moon was bright. It was a hot, still night. The repetitive shriek of the strange, solitary canid that few people in the world have seen.
Around midnight I had to chase a snorting bull off the island-what a way to disturb my magical, moonlit night. Just me, all alone in the wilderness. "Get out!" I yell at the lumbering, hump-backed bull. He stares at me, eyes shining green in the reflection of my headlamp. He doesn't move. "Out," I yell again, this time throwing a large bone at him. The bull crashes off through the bushes, snorting and I pursue it to make sure it leaves the island. Finally I hear its clunking footsteps turn to wet, slurping sounds as it wades through the flooded savannah, in search of some other island respite without an aggressive, bi-pedal monkey. I trot back to my tent, brushing mosquitoes off my arms and legs as I go. What would the world be like without cows? What would the world be like without humans?
10:00 a.m. In the escondite (blind)
Oh little Manu, don't fledge yet. You're not ready. I'm not ready for you to be ready because then everything will change again and I don't want to leave the campamento yet. Truth be told, I think Manu will fledge before Christmas. Yesterday Vicente was supposed to come to the campamento with Steve (a friend of mine from home who will be joining the project for the next month or two), so I am expecting him today or tomorrow. Too bad I can never get the radio to work, so I have no idea what the latest news is (on Steve's arrival, among other things). How happy I will be if I return to camp to find Steve waiting there with Vicente. Or if I am lounging in my hammock or cooking over the fire and in the distance I see two horses approaching.
Notes on being alone:
Day 4, I begin to talk to myself and make strange noises-mostly imitating all the animals I hear. I deside to start practicing gymnastics during the hot, boring afternoons since there is no one here to see how ridiculous I look. I'm surprised by how good I am at handstands. The mosquitoes bite my armpits. If Vicente were here, would he finally say, "Yes, there are a lot of mosquitoes."? I think there are a lot. Being alone won't make me go crazy, but the mosquitoes might.
5:45 p.m.
Vicente arrived this afternoon...alone. I am sad that Steve will not get to see the campamento. Only five more days until he and Carmen arrive...as long as it doesn't rain so much that the runway at the nearest estancia floods. So, that is the new plan-the morning of December 27th Carmen and Steve will arrive by plane at the estancia Veinti-uno. So much craziness and changes in plan. Since it's supposed to come on the 27th, I suppose the plane will actually touch by New Years. In the meantime, Vicente and I will continue to watch Manu, who will fledge any day now, and to keep track of the already fledged (but not very mobile) Goliath.
Photo taken by Louise Emmons (from article "The Secret Wolf" on the web at : http://nationalzoo.si.edu/Publications/ZooGoer/2004/6/manedwolves.cfm)
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