Returned
to the forest the following morning.
The day was windy and overcast, so we concentrated on areas that were
more in the open and exposed to the sun, which brought us more in contact
with acacias. Quetzal had warned us to
watch out for these trees, not because of their swollen thorns, but for a
particularly ferocious ant that inhabits them. This
species of acacia lacks the bitter alkaloids that other plants produce to
prevent animals from stripping their leaves, which would slow their growth
and allow competing vegetation to shade them out. Colonies of stinging ants have taken over
this defense role, occupying the hollowed-out thorns and attacking anything
that touches the tree: ravaging
insects, browsing mammals, even competing plants. Vines and branches that get too close are
pruned back, and seedlings that sprout under the canopy are removed, creating
a clearing around the tree. In return,
the host acacia supplies its guardians with rich nutrients from specialized
bodies on its leaves, for which there is no known function except to provide
food for the symbiotic ants.
Walking
on unshaded trails we also noticed flashes of color as basking lizards darted
out of our way, and a brilliant beetle posed for a picture before lifting off
to another leafy landing site.
As it
became warmer we turned to the woods for shade. So did this young turtle who obviously had
the same idea (as its name would imply).
By mid-afternoon
we were ready for a siesta (apparently, so were the herps, who were nowhere
to be seen). Drove back to the forest
after dark and checked out some vacant buildings. Around the stone walls tailless whip
scorpions were waiting in ambush, while leaf cutter ants continued their
nonstop ticker-tape parade.
Outside
the buildings we found bumpy little Geckos, but inside we discovered an adult
Slender Hog-nosed Viper nestled in a crack, probably waiting for one of those
appetizing Geckos to pass his perch in the wooden wall.
A bat
flying around the building came to rest on an overhang, and poised on a tree
was this weird insect, the perfectly named Peanut-head Bug.
We
got in our car and started to road cruise.
Every few minutes we would see the bright, ruby reflection of eyeshine
on the edge of the road. As we
approached it would mysteriously levitate, an eerie magician’s trick in the
middle of the street. Eventually our
headlights would catch up to reveal the swooping form of the Common Pauraque, a bird in the Night Jar family, dodging in and out of the light.
When they’re not scooping up insects in mid-flight, these nocturnal
birds prefer to rest on the ground rather than perch in trees, their favorite
spot being exposed places, such as a stretch of open road. And they weren’t the only winged creatures
parked on the pavement; sometimes we’d stop for tiny eyeshine and discover
the iridescent beauty of a moth.
Finally
started to see some herps besides Marine Toads: a few small snakes, an attractive Gecko,
and a lumbering turtle out for an evening’s stroll.
Our
most unusual find of the trip: In Sensing
this find might have scientific importance, Quetzal decided to report the
specimen for identification to herpetologist Alejandro Solórzano of the
National Serpentarium in First
time I've ever found anything of scientific significance . . . pretty cool!
We were
starting to feel pretty good. It began
to rain and we knew that would improve our chances. Kept our eyes sharp on the road for
anything out and about, but mainly I was really hoping for a repeat chance at
finding and photographing a Coral Snake.
And I got it. Once
again a taut cable of red-and-black was stretched out in the middle of the
road. We approached carefully trying
not to scare it off, but when it made a dash I moved up quickly, and this time
got the angle right to properly pin it down with my stick. It thrashed about, then Quetzal reached
down and expertly grabbed its tail, controlling the snake with a hook so we
could get a better look. It was
exquisite.
Our
final snake of the night was also black-and-red like the Coral Snake, and as
it turned out, of some possible scientific interest like the Snail
Sucker. It was shortly after finding
our second Coral Snake of the evening (unfortunately, DOR), so we immediately
thought “Here’s another,” when we came upon the same colors crawling across
the road. But as we got out of the car
Quetzal realized it was a mimic, the very beautiful Black Halloween Snake.
Notice
the stub tail. Snakes in this family
have very fragile tails that are designed to break off easily and continue to
twitch after separating, a defensive strategy similar to lizards which drop their
tails as decoys. This is not true
autonomizing, however, since some amount of physical resistance due to
restraint or thrashing is required to break off the tail, rather than the
internal muscle contractions used by lizards to voluntarily drop theirs. The tail does not regenerate, but because
it is long it allows the snake several breaks during its lifetime. According to some estimates, nearly 50% of
these snakes are missing a portion of their tails. An interesting footnote. Quetzal showed our pictures to Alejandro,
and it turns out we apparently discovered two range extensions that
night! As he wrote to us by e-mail: I didn't realize that the Uretheca we found was that important
of a discovery because of its location and pattern. [It’s] a range extension as well and the
color pattern is of interest because typically their colors
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