A day in the life of a science officer
Added to website: 17 July 2006
I wake at five thirty to the sounds of the mountain leaders talking in low voices as they prepare breakfast. After pulling some clothes on, I leave the cocoon-like interior of my hammock and set about waking the volunteers up for breakfast at six. They emerge bleary-eyed, but are all awake after a delicious breakfast of scrambled eggs and rice and of course, the customary, hot cup of milo. An Asian house shrew (Suncus murinus) pokes it flat, grey head out from under some tree roots and peers at me for a second as I brush my teeth. There are so many animals here in the forest that we don’t see, the only clues of their presence being their calls or the rustling of leaves. We pull on our wet trekking boots, grab binoculars and I.D. guides and set off to do our first survey of the day – a bird point count.
Chattering Mountain white-eyes (Zosterops montanus) flitter quickly through the canopy above us as we sit quietly in a forest clearing. One stops to feed on a berry, affording us a glimpse of this small, delicate bird before it disappears in an instant behind the leaves. We check the mammal lines, re-baiting the traps and measuring any rats or shrews that have been caught before releasing them. Surveys for butterflies, herpetiles and vegetation take up the rest of the afternoon and before I know it, it’s nearly six o’ clock and time to open the mist nets.
For me, this is the best part of the day. From the moment a Musky fruit bat (Pterochirus jagori) took aim and managed to urinate at me in the face on my very first survey, I was hooked! Although some may say they are not the most pleasant of fruit bats (they aren’t called ‘musky’ for nothing) they are strong for their size and boy, do they have attitude. Then there’s the magnificent Philippine tube-nosed fruit bat (Nytimene rabori), instantly recognisable by the separate, tubular nostrils, yellow spotted wings and dark stripe running down its back. This critically endangered species is endemic to the Philippines, with the largest population found on Negros where less than 1% of its lowland rainforest habitat remains (Heaney and Regalado, 1998). The female tube-nose caught in the net is actually carrying her young - a tiny creature, tucked underneath her wing. We quickly release her without taking any measurements to minimise possible stress and are ecstatic at seeing evidence of a breeding population with our own eyes.
The volunteers continue to check the nets every half an hour, calling to James (my fellow science officer) and myself when there are any bats. The nets are closed at ten and after hanging their boots up, the volunteers take themselves back to their hammocks for a well-earned sleep. I take a minute to look around and as the mist rolls in, the hammocks resemble silent spaceships suspended beneath the trees. At this moment, I realise that there is nowhere else where I would rather be.
Wing-Yunn Crawley
CCC Science Officer, Negros Rainforest Conservation Project
