Hidden Jungle Hawk

On the island two weeks after the northern summer solstice, gray clouds hover in the sky.  The birds had finished building their nests during April and May, while the sky gave hints of rain with brief scattered showers.  The parched soil soaks up the water and different colors pop up in the jungle.  Bright colors are prevalent in tropical forests like bejeweled pins in the thick jungle of the Mother Nature’s hair.  Dark green, fire engine red and vivid orange fruits growing on the numerous trees greeted the month of my birth, inviting animals to eat them and disperse their seeds.  Usually, bright colors betoken either sex in birds, as when a dazzling turquoise, bright red and black Lance Tailed Manakin male seeks a lemon green female for a mate before and during the spring equinox.  A brilliant pink or purple blaze of flowers try to seduce pollinators, the several species of bees, which symbolize fertility and the honey of life or the hummingbirds, which symbolize tireless joy and the nectar of life, with their sweet smells and colors.  The forest is blessed with numerous species of hummingbirds and several varieties of stingless and stinging bees.  The rains bring forth another world to the jungle.  Each flower species, the one that blooms before the rains or the one that blooms after the onset of the dry season signals to a particular insect or bird to visit.  Twice a year, as I walk under the canopy, Mother Nature offers me a carpet of fallen flowers and petals to tread for my initiation back into Her real world.

I am surrounded by unusual sounds that change throughout the year, the mating calls of birds in the wet spring or the falling of leaves and branches in the dry winter.  I am consumed by the changing of unusual smells,  the sickly pungent of decaying leaves in the ceaseless rains or the sharp musk of beach soil baking in the sun and I know I am changing too.  Away from the hustle and bustle of the outside world I have space for centered thoughts, deep breathing, and appreciation of my jumbled past.  I am able to recognize and acknowledge the Divine’s presence throughout the meandering course the river of my life has taken.  The island and also our earth are home to countless distinct organisms with individual traits that define its role in the overall system.  I watch the comings and goings of my neighbors the leaf cutter ants and their endless paths through the forest, harvesting leaves in the day time between the summer solstice and fall equinox when birds are most likely to forage for insects in order to have enough energy to lay eggs and after sunset between winter solstice and spring equinox when they can regenerate their numbers. Ants symbolize industriousness, order, and discipline.  Mother Nature provides a variety of ways of living, which together make the forest function as a whole.  The same with our lives, we awaken, become mature and are ready to accept our gifts in the right season, the Divine’s plan for the natural world.

Bare wings

Wings to fly...

Fly forward..

Excalibur 2009

There are some fates one cannot escape.  I once had dreams of living on a sailboat or an RV, traveling with my home.  I don’t know if I really expected it to become reality, but now it has.  I have made a conscious decision by purchasing this boat, that a part of my life will now revolve, flow, exist with the ocean.  A path forged, sown so long ago, beginning in my childhood has fruited many, many years later.  I played with the idea before, when I owned a 27 foot Catalina.  But now, I am playing with the big fishes…or whales, a 46 footer with a steel hull.  Blue water passages, here I come.

Near the mouth of the Panama Canal

Solitude

Roar

Star

Beauty has its own heavenly language, loftier than the voices of tongues and lips. It is a timeless language, common to all humanity, a calm lake that attracts the singing rivulets to its depth and makes them silent. Only our spirits can understand beauty, or live and grow with it. It puzzles our minds; we are unable to describe it in words; it is a sensation that our eyes cannot see, derived from both the one who observes and the one who is looked upon. Real beauty is a ray which emanates from the holy of holies of the spirit, and illuminates the body, as life comes from the depths of the earth and gives color and scent to a flower.

Kahlil Gibran
Broken Wings

Beauty in the palm of my hand

Traid

Peace is experienced in a variety of ways.  Happiness is called by many names.  The language of numbers is definite.

Tracking

I spent five days at the UNESCO world heritage site, Coiba Island National Park assisting with bird tracking research. The island is 46 miles offshore encompassing 150 miles of unspoiled beaches. It is the largest island in Central America, about the size of Barbados. Coiba island is also one of the last places in Central America where the Scarlet Macaw (Ara Macao) can be found in the wild and in large numbers. The sight of a flock of Macaws flying overhead was humbling, I was stunned, paralyzed and unfortunately was unable to fish out my camera fast enough. The island has three endemic subspecies, the Coiba Mantled Howler monkey (Alouatta Coibensis), the Coiba Agouti (Dasyprocta Coibae), a short tailed, plant eating large rodent, the size of a domestic cat. Finally, a bird species I helped the ornithologists to track, the Coiba SpineTail (Cranioleuca Dissita).

Greeting the morning sun from Coiba Island

We woke up every morning at 5AM groggily fixing snacks and bottling cold water for our trip and arrived onshore  to meet a boat that took us to a remote area Coiba where we spent about 5 hours hiking through dense jungle along a marked transect.

Vine Portal

The path was hacked with a machete through the vegetation, an almost impenetrable tangle of vines and bushes and marked with colored markers tied to small trees or branches. We walked steadily through the jungle, grabbing onto vines for hand holds, using roots, rocks, and small trees to steady us as we meandered up and down inclines following the Spinetail and Ruddybacked dove calls and searching for nests.

Knots

The ground was packed with leaves and rotting foliage in certain areas, careful not to slip, each step measured for reliability. It was intense, and I loved it. With each deep breath, I filled my lungs with a variety of smells, sweet and fragrant from the newly blossoming flowers, since the rains began just a day or two ago.

Hungry Honeybee

Yet, as the day progressed the humidity and heat rose so our clothes were drenched,we sweat as much as the water we drank. Invigorated as we neared the end of the transect we sat in a clear patch to eat a snack, comparing our observations.

I learned so much on this journey, met some brilliant ornithologists and feel closer to the natural world around me.

diamond

During my daily hikes I always try to find an idyllic spot to sit, either by the ocean or in the dense forest surrounded by non human inhabitants. I watch the daily comings and goings of insects and birds, I cannot fool the other mammals, like the skittish Agouti or called Nieke by the local Panamanians. Each source of life taking their turns to inspect me. A variety of Leaf-cutter ant scouts foraging for tidbits, a black species of stingless Bees or tiny yellow Wasps hover around deciding if I offer nectar, Buho butterflies whisk by and I am surprised to find that I am the only one sitting still and quiet. Every other living organism is going about their business, concerned about living or being eaten this day.

Oropendula nests

Forest-Collared Falcon

RAYSin the Sun...

More gushings...

MilkyWay

The Island of Dreamers.

The name crept into the conversation one of the many starry nights during the last weeks of the rainy season this November. There were no visitors at the lab, only a handful of the long term residents spending an evening alone together. We opened a few bottles of delicious red Columbian wine, brought by an animated and gregarious Columbian, Jorge. I like to call him, the philosopher. Everyone was in a pleasant mood, enjoying each other’s company, discussing our day and various work projects. The milky way stretched out across the sky like a diamond studded charcoal cat. I could almost hear a purrr from the sky as we popped open another bottle, but maybe that was the soft hummm in my ear from the wine. We snacked on large juicy grapes, the size of golf balls, from the lab’s organic farm on the mainland, accompanied with cheese and crackers, yet very informal. We are all friends, have become unusual companions through the course of our stay here. Our group represents several countries. Panama of course, Columbia, Mexico,United States, Puerto Rico, India, Italy, France, and Russia. Between all of us, we have trekked the globe. We are seasoned travelers converging, bringing our unique experiences to the deck under the starry starry night. I love it when we have nights like these, when we share our very different and varied stories, in several different languages. Two of the Columbians are well traveled and are wonderful story tellers. Their stories are laden with detail and prose, told with flair, encouraging laughter from the whole group. I am there, within the story,whisked away to Cartegena, Bogota and the wilderness that makes up Columbia. I listen carefully, trying to capture the essence of their voice and characterizations, hoping to one day capture dialogue style and perspective. Then one of the Italians, Aldo, adds his point of view to a certain country in his sing songy English, slipping in a few Italian words, some of which I am familiar with from my University Italian classes, many many years ago. My belly hurts from laughing. We all argue about the best country in the world and I realize how much everyone is proud of where they come from. We are all here on this island for different reasons with dreams in our heads and goals in our hearts. We share our obstacles and listen to the advice that others give. Jorge exclaims, “we are the island of dreamers!” I wholeheartedly agree. “You are the writer, Alpana, write a story about the island and we’ll make a movie. I can’t wait to accept an Oscar!” he claims prematurely. How can I resist his enthusiasm? Who am I to disagree with that?