A long-awaited update from the field

So much has happened in the last few months, and a lot of it unfortunate, but I will try to relate to you some of the more recent events.

Since being diagnosed with melanoma last November (a year ago now), my dad has been undergoing treatments to try to target and stop this unpredictable and damnable cancer. The first attempt at immunotherapy did not work, and the cancer reappeared in other areas of is body. Now they are trying a form of chemotherapy. There is a lot of waiting to see if the next treatment works. But my parents are kind of amazing; they really seem able to just keep living and enjoying life because what is the use of constantly dwelling on the depressing stuff. The one major problem for me with this healthy strategy is that I am thousands of miles away and I cannot share in this living business with the people I love.

Data collection is still filled with difficulties and I would literally pay for some breaks. I have had a run of particularly rough days (not finding groups, dealing with less than stellar assistants, finding myself 300+ m out of the trail system – meaning there are only trails made by passing elephants and by myself when I manually move vegetation and scamper in and out of steep rivers- and with the wrong group) this last week and took Luca up on his suggestion to go out of the forest a few days earlier than planned. I already had a nice swim in the ocean late this afternoon and am currently drinking some really fabulous local “wine” (the ingredients include tomatoes and papaya, so you can imagine what it tastes like). But, hey it does still have alcohol in it.

I am really missing Thanksgiving this year. It is my favorite holiday, but because the concept of time seems to disappear in the forest, it is hard to believe that it is already the end of November. Everyone should really remember not to take all of the food and football for granted. Just think of me eating my three eggs a day like usual. I am planning on trying out for the semi-professional women’s football team in Austin when I get back. Even if I do not make the team I still want to give it a try. Plus, I think that I will definitely be tough enough for that sport by the time I finish up here. So, I will try to make up for all the lost American sports time when I get the chance.

Death seems to be haunting me at the moment. I took care of a baby giant squirrel (scientific name: Ratufa bicolor) that I found during a storm one day after she fell out of her nest and was giving loud distress calls. I just could not leave her there to drwon in a puddle or be gobbled up by some lazy predator. She seemed to be doing well and was gaining weight during the first week or so. Then Luca and I (who were really like new parents who have to learn everything from trial and error, and who immediately take on the stereotypical gender roles with the Ratufa always shitting and peeing on me and me always preparing the food, while the “dad” got to rough-house with her and the other “fun” stuff) went out of the forest for a few days, and when we returned she seemed weaker and to be eating less. When I weighed her she had lost all of the weight that she had gained the previous week. We tried to do what we could to force her to eat, but she got worse over the next 2 or 3 days. There was even a vet in camp working with a team of cat researchers, but he seemed sort of clueless as to how to help and less concerned than I would expect. Because she slept literally inside of my sarong with me every night, I was already incredibly attached to the squirrel. On the third night she was really struggling and did not eat at all. I woke up at around 5 in the morning and knew that she was going. I threw on some clothes so as not to offend the Indonesians in camp and ran to Luca’s room with her in my hands gasping for breath once every 30 seconds or so. I knocked on his door and woke him up, screaming something like “she’s dying.” I held her and stroked her for the next 20 minutes or so until she stopped breathing. At one point the stupid vet woke up to use the facilities located below Luca’s room. Luca said “she is dying or already dead” to the guy and he just shrugged and said “sorry” in a non-caring way, and then went to pee. After she stopped breathing I tried CPR on her but her little lungs only inflated and she did not respond. I was already crying quietly by this time, but really trying to hold myself together. Luca did not cry but he really took it badly as well. Later that day when he heard the same species calling in the forest he described his reaction like being stabbed in an already-opened wound. We had failed and did not really know exactly why. I could not really talk much at this point because I knew that I would start crying audibly if I opened my mouth and this loss of control would tear down all of my emotional walls. We had to bury her quickly because in the forest things start decomposing rapidly, plus as Luca pointed out and I knew was true but still tough, she was just a body at this point. In selecting a spot, the assistants suggested we bury her where all the other failed animal rescues went, which really tore me up, particularly because of how they said it: “here is the argus peasant, the deer, the baby elephant, etc, so let’s just throw her on top like a mass grave and forget about it.” Or at least that is how I interpreted it. Within minutes of her burial they then went to slit the throats of the chickens to cook for dinner, which I do not eat and still really hate to see. Death is just much more everyday and unshocking here. Meanwhile, I think that I grieved more for that squirrel than any pet or person in my life. I think that this may also have something to do with the fact that when you work in the forest all day for months and months you really cling to the little things, and something alive, warm and breathing is more real. Luca and I literally celebrate when the ATM’s function to give us our own money or when there are some canned sardines or potatoes to eat. Hell, we even look forward to coming out to our crappy hotel for a few days where we can sleep past 6 am, use hot water, and watch miserably bad films usually starring Steven Segal (my plan for tomorrow night). At least I had Luca to be there with me when the Ratufa died, but I desperately needed someone to hold me or even fucking touch me at that moment and he did not. I am trying to prepare myself for Luca’s departure in March, but it is really going to kill me to see him go.

This must all sound pretty desperate, but then (it gets worse) two weeks ago when the same vet that pissed me off was leaving the forest, he drowned trying to cross the flooded river with the station manager. It still is not fully clear how this happened and whether he really could swim or not. He told the manager (Opo) twice on the banks of the rain-swollen river that he could swim before starting to cross. Then, only a couple of meters from the shore (before it was deep enough to swim) he started struggling and did not even try to swim or use his pack to float. Opo was still very close-by and immediately went to him, but when he reached the pack the vet was already gone and did not resurface. There was an immediate search by police, WCS people, park officials, researchers, and local people. I went to help out the next morning, swimming and searching under debris for a body. Although, I gave up pretty quickly since I did feel like much of a help. On the third day his body finally emerged from a tree-fall. I still am struggling to accept that it really happened. We cross that river every time we go in and out of the forest, and I never really felt that my life was in peril. Now, like earlier today, we are overly cautious, but it all seems ridiculous that a man died that way. When I told my parents about it they asked if I could wait until the rainy season was over to go out and just stay in until then. This is of course absurd seeing how the rains stop in February (maybe). I promise to be as careful as I can, but I still have to keep up with my research schedule.

On a more positive note, I went to see the volcano Krakatoa (really Anak Krakatoa “the child of Krakatoa”) with Luca and a visiting friend of his. It was an interesting experience and my first time on a volcano. I kept thinking that it was like an alien planet, completely desolate with sulfurous fumes and strange but beautiful rocks. I climbed part of the way up the crater, but Luca of course went to the very top and looked into the mouth of the volcano. I am sorry I did not go, but I also have the sense to know that, taking safety and time into account, it is better that I did not. The wind, even as high as I ventured, was tremendously powerful. I posted some pictures of the area and the poor departed Ratufa below.

I wish everyone a happy thanksgiving and wish that I could be there to bake you all pies and just be near you all. I will try eat something other than eggs and rice while I am out and call it Thanksgiving supper.