After our short walk we headed back to the
compound for lunch and to plan the rest of our stay. While Ron took a siesta, I headed out again
alone for a late afternoon hike. Even at high noon there is limited light in
the forest because of all the shade, and it gets downright dark a couple of
hours before sunset. That’s when I saw my first snake, one I almost stepped
on: a juvenile Fer-de-Lance resting on a log right in the middle of the path.
He slid away into the underbrush, pausing there defiantly, but under too much
cover for a picture. Tried to flip him back onto the path, but he escaped
into a hollow log. I walked on,
cursing the lost opportunity for a photo, when suddenly, silently, in the
shadows by the path, I blink into focus the image of a coiled snake, waiting
in ambush for prey. This time it was an adult Fer-de-Lance, big, beautiful,
and completely still. It was yellowier than I expected, which turns out to be
characteristic of the ones from this coastal region, as compared to the
darker ones found further inland.
Fer-de-Lance Bothrops asper By now it was
completely dark. I made my way back to the compound, got my brother and Paul,
the station manager, and we headed back out for a night hike, stopping only
to take a photo of a couple (and I do mean couple) of Giant Marine Toads which
were everywhere at night under the lights around the buildings.
Giant Marine Toad Bufo marinus Shining the trees
we spot a sleeping male Emerald Basilisk. We learned that males climb high at
night into the upper branches, while the females sleep on the lower branches,
usually directly above water.
Peering into a
log we found a tarantula, and on several trees we found giant whip scorpions
and some cool looking leaf insects.
Paul was walking the
lead and spots something slithering out of the path. Good thing he saw it,
since Ron and I were still unfamiliar with what was safe to grab and what
wasn’t. This one turned out to be one of the safe ones, a Cat-Eyed Snake.
Cat-Eyed Snake Leptodeira septentrionalis
Green Climbing Toad Bufo coniferus In the meantime,
I’m hoping the Fer-de-Lance from my earlier hike is still there, but before
we reach that spot, Ron turns his headlamp and the light reflects off the
yellow chin of another one sitting by the side of the path. This was the
standard pose for all the coiled Fer-de-Lances we saw, their heads tilted up
and slightly extended, somewhat like Agkistrodons are prone to do, but more
exaggerated. Although the posture was normal, this snake did have an unusual
pattern. Typically, they have clearly marked and strongly bordered triangles
on the side of the body (compare with the picture of the first one), but on
this snake the pattern was very broken, almost forming saddles.
Finally, when we
got to the spot of my earlier Fer-de-Lance, he hadn’t budged a scale since I saw
him three hours before. We sat watching for a while, and eventually the snake
took notice of us. He flicked his tongue, then
crawled away slowly, keeping his head high as he made a dignified exit.
We walked back to
the cabins, spotted a kinkajou high up in a bamboo thicket, killed a yellow
scorpion (the dangerous kind) that was crawling on the rafters near my upper
bunk bed, and promptly fell asleep.
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