Here goes nothing

So much has happened since I decided to kickoff this blog, initially I was to start it way earlier, however, the field is unpredictable and well, things don't always go to plan. Back in Feb I went from what I thought was two weeks catching snakes in a South African reserve to a broken humerus and four nights in hospital. How I broke it? Arm wrestling in a bar, shit happens.

Since then I have been on the mend and the field adventures have slowly become more plausible. I plan to eventually head back to SA and have just come back from the Yucatan Peninsula. But in the meantime, here is a snippet of some of my adventures out in Honduras.

A typical night’s work in Cusuco National Park, Honduras.

The rain fell hard, as always, and the accompanying hindrance of pounding drops and thick mist made hearing and visibility ambitious. The Cloud Forest of Cusuco was giving us the usual taste of an evening, little gratitude as I stand almost knee deep in one of its many winding streams trying to survey its amphibian life. Reassuring myself that despite the wet and cold, I am doing a good thing for conservation and frogs love rain, I keep my ears poised. Between the usual jungle racket, rainfall and the curses from my colleague’s falls, I hear the distant quack of an endemic tree frog. Its back upstream, how did we miss it!? Calling to the rest of the group I turn and head back, trusting my head torch to guide me along the same preceding path as the aftermath leaves and twigs skim past.

It was my third season working in this Honduran National Park as a Herpetologist. Previous years had brought success in my surveys, this being the third relatively unsuccessful night at this site, and my final night in the core zone, I was beginning to worry. Either the frogs weren’t in the keenest of moods to reveal themselves, or something far more serious was developing. Maybe the recent eradication of forest that bordered one side of the stream had something to do with it? A constant reminder of why the work I was doing was becoming increasingly crucial.

I approached the suspected site, a young oak already epiphyte-laden, hanging vines and all. I peered through the bombardment of rainfall, my spotlight scanning the glistening green labyrinth before me. An Owl Butterfly lay peacefully using the underside of a leaf as a basher; a roosting hummingbird sat fluffed up like a ball and was that a frog? Nope, just another cricket! I was about to move onto the next tree when something caught my light, something perfectly balanced on a branch and staring right at me with faint reflective eyes, hello old friend. A large green tree frog, Plectrohyla exquisita, had awarded me with its presence and what an exquisite specimen it was! This Cusuco endemic is a real beauty, adults ranging in colour from bright green to light brown with large capturing eyes. Magnificent as they are, this species, along with many other amphibians, has suffered heavy declines over recent years, owing to a combination of the fatal fungal disease chytridiomycosis and habitat loss. Finally we had found what we had come out to find! Reveling the moment as I stare upon this gem, I snap out, there is work to do.

The purpose of these nightly river walks is to assess the strength of Cusuco’s frog populations. Through photography an ID of each individual can be established and by repeating these walks we get an idea of how the populations are coping over the years. P. exquisita had not had a productive season, this being only the second time I had encountered this species at this site. To get all the data I need, handling the frogs iss a necessity, but this is done with upmost care.

With everybody around me the frog had celebrity status, cue the flood of flashing lights. Holding him securely around the waist with latex gloves I notice the large nuptial pads on his fore-thumbs, it’s a male for sure and he’s strong, quickly does it. Whilst attempting to ignore the irritation of water running down about every part of me, I record the length, weight and global position before a full-body skin swab is obtained to determine chytrid presence. Looking him over I notice a ‘birth mark’ anteriorly above his right eye, this was new, at least a different individual from the last I encountered! A fair prize for enduring this wet night. With his ID noted and photos taken it was time to release him.

He landed, the branch bobbing to a slow halt. He sat surprisingly still for a while, for all he knew he had just had a lucky escape from a Parrot Snake. My light resisted to abandon him, better to know he is fine before moving on. He adjusted his legs before leaping again, he was free. Following his climb I contemplated whether this species would still be viable a year from now. After all, bouts of decline appear unpredictable and this species is found nowhere else on earth. To work with this species in its natural habitat in attempt to aid of its conservation was a real privilege.

The distant chirp of another serenading hopeful catches my attention and with it the process of our nightly work resumes. May the conservation of reptiles and amphibians prosper, providing adventures in field Herpetology for generations to come.