Guatemala Communiques 1998

SAN IGNACIO

It is now noon of our third full day here at Finca San Ignacio near the town of Malicatan. This is a huge finca near the Mexican border. I would guess roughly 10,000 acres of coffee trees spread over the contiguous mountain tops. The first afternoon here we were taken to the remaining forests on this finca by their hunter. The forests were all gnarly thick second-growth forests, almost impossible to wade through. The size of this finca offers plenty of help collecting. The children of the workers have made a fortune by their standards collecting the local lizards, and some of the workers have brought in snakes and caecilians (a legless amphibian closely related to frogs and salamanders). In the first two days here we have collected almost twice as many animals as in the all the other two weeks of collecting. We now have quit collecting lizards (other than one species we have only found one specimen of) and caecelians from this site.

The two parasitologists are way behind in their work. They can only check the viscera of around 20 animals a day. The maximum they have done in one day was 23. Here we have brought in close to 20 species with as many as 5 specimen each to examine. The parasitologists have roughly 5 days of work to do in our 3 1/2 remaining days here. To compound the difficulty, nobody feels very well. Stomach problems and chest colds have plagued the crew since we arrived here.

The primary advantage to this finca other than the numbers of animals is the character of our lodging. This must have been a grand place in its prime (probably the '30s and '40s). Charlton Heston and Jeffery Chandler would have looked right in place on the verandah. Our lodgings were probably the owner's quarters when he came to the finca to oversee operations. Three rooms open to the verandah, with a dining room and adjoining kitchen separated by a hallway that also opens onto the verandah. The first two rooms open on the back side to a common bathroom. The building has been kept in some repair, although you have the feeling the owner has not stayed here in the past 40-plus years. The first room is filled to the brim with corn that the workers buy from the bosses by the kilo on archaic scales. The water for the bath room and kitchen is pumped into a cistern on the rise above the hacienda from a stream that first runs through the workers' ramshackle shanty town. Obviously, we boil our cooking water well and are very careful when bathing. Each night from about 6 till 10PM the generator is turned on at the coffee processing plant down below, and we have power through an archaic line installed in the '30s. It does allow me to recharge my computer each evening (a beautiful dichotomy of power sources).

After all the difficulties I have had getting email out at earlier locations, the computer linked up on the first try last night. I was hesitant to try from so near the Mexican border. The last location, only an hour to the south, further away from the border, the Guatemalan cell phone system was over-ridden by the Mexican system. I was told by the computer people in Antigua that linking up via a cell phone in their system was futile, but with a lot of persistence it is working. Not only working, but I believe it is the only way you can consistently link-up from here. Land lines are few, far between, and used as revenue making tools by people who would never trust a gringo connecting a television-like folding box to their phone line. The cell system, where it exists, is the tool of the ruling-class community, and expanding to fit their needs.

I have spent most the past two days killing and pickling/preserving animals. Now at 5PM we have finally caught up with the outpouring of lizards and caecilians. The process works like this. The animals are grouped by species, counted and catalogued in the trip log first, when possible. In this case, with the rapid incoming flow of animals, cataloging some continually incoming species prior to preserving would create too much confusion. So some are counted after preserving. When each animal is logged into the catalogue, a tag with number is issued. Each animal is killed using an injection of nebacol ( the lethal injection vets use to put an infirm dog or horse to sleep). The analogy seems accurate. The animal appears to simply "fall asleep". Then the animal is injected with a formalin (10% formaldehyde) solution and positioned on paper towels in plastic trays to harden. Each type of animal is positioned so that its measurements can be taken later and so they will fit best in the gallon jars or other containers back at the museum. As they are being positioned the identification tag is securely attached (i.e.. tied to a rear leg). In a matter of a few hours they harden to a plastic-like consistency. Back in the museum, stored in alcohol, the "life" of these preserved specimens is probably well over a thousand years. Hundreds of years beyond many of these species' probable extinction. The life of the collection is based in research. Biologists studying the ecology of Central America will have access to these animals long past their demise in the wild.

I can not help wanting to create and maintain some resource to preserve a living population of these beautiful creatures we are preserving. Realistically, any attempt to maintain a captive wildlife population will alter the natural balance -- if the natural habitat is not maintained, and this habitat seems doomed. Just a few thoughts along the way.

Small Things on Strings

The verandah I have spent most the past five days on overlooks the road, courtyard and offices of the coffee processing plant. It's a massive, white, frame building with a red tin roof from which a tin exhaust of more recent origin breaks through the tall white letters "FINCA SAN IGNACIO." Our quarters and verandah are on a slight rise, while the road drops down, providing a direct view of the plant's roof line and looking down on the courtyard and office.

One of the past few days I noticed a young man no more than 8 years old striding down the road toward the office window where the workers gather before daylight to receive the day's obligations. The boy's demeanor struck me. There are children around everywhere, bringing us snakes, lizards, and frogs on strings, and happily going away with a few quetzales. But this boy was carrying himself like a man. Strapped to his belt was a machete that must have dragged the ground if he were to slouch. Across his far shoulder he carried a bag, and on his head was a cowboy hat somewhat too large.

He stopped short of the building but never looked back. As the boss, "el jefe," came out to meet him I noticed that a woman and a small girl (about 4 years old) were following 20 paces behind. The conversation between el jefe and the man/boy was short, no more than a few minuets, but the little girl slipped away from her mother and eased up behind her man/boy/brother. Without looking back he motioned her back. The conversation ended. El jefe returned to the office. Mother, son and daughter drew together as they left my view below the rise.

I will never make another trip like this again......without bringing a good pillow.

Jonathan, Joe and Val are sitting outside telling stories about snake bites and dreams when Jon admits that once he spent an entire month searching for and trying to collect a Cerrophidion barbouri, a rare viper. Finally, while he was climbing a hill in sludgy mire, one slipped by in front of him, too far away and fast to catch. Out of desperation Jon dove at the viper anyway, trying to catch it with his bare hands. Willing to risk a potentially deadly bite rather than allow it to get away. A few days later he caught the next one he saw.

Our first true coral snake, a Micrurus nigrocinctus, came in yesterday. Very small, about 6 inches long, and no more than 3/16ths an inch thick, it is a recent hatchling. Several mimics have already shown up at this finca, including a Scaphiodontophis annulatus, a specialized skink-eating snake whose long, thin body's first third mimics a coral snake while from mid-body back he is green. The S. annulatus has hinged, spade-shaped teeth that point backward and will lock into the fine scales of skinks that allow them to escape from many snakes. Another coral snake mimic, the Pliocercus elapoides has also shown up at this finca. It is a salamander-eating specialist, although only one salamander has shown up. We conjecture that the use of pesticides and herbicides has taken its toll on the thin-skinned salamanders.

Last night shortly before we went to bed, the night-watchman/guard sheepishly came to the verandah gate. He didn't know if we would want to buy the two snake eggs he had found. The story he gave Eric was that he had found three eggs earlier near his home. When he opened one with his machete a baby coral snake slithered away. Eric gave him 5 quetzales (about 80 cents). We photographed the eggs and retired for the night. This morning we are waiting for them to hatch like expectant parents before we preserve them.

We have collected a series of Agalychnis moreletti, a beautiful and infinitely cute bright green tree frog with huge black eyes lined with a delicate blue ring. Their suckered toes, webbed feet, delicate arms, legs, and underside are a brilliant orange. Kermit the frog would inevitably feel upstaged. The young parasitologists talk "baby talk" and pose for pictures as they prepare to examine the viscera......... visceral reaction

Aesthetics, Dead Animals, and the Remains of Mayan Culture

Before daylight the huge generator breaks the morning as an erratic procession of forms streams down the cobblestone road. The industrial coffee grinder has met the Mayan masa. From my perch over the road in the dim predawn glow, round white forms float by, balanced above barely human forms. As the darkness evolves into the dim morning glow, the forms become the workers' wives, carrying buckets of masa balanced on their heads. Clad in sandals, slips, and shirts, with hair braided down their backs, they are silent to the drone of the grinder.

Our cook pats out fresh tortillas for each meal. Small thick and succulent, they are very different from the factory-produced tortillas back home. The culture here is so very different than back home. I try to be very aware of cultural bias. Observation over judgment is an idealistic concept, perhaps impossibly so.

A week ago we stopped at a good restaurant in Huehuetenago on our way to Todo Santos before coming here to the Finca San Ignacio in the Malicatan area. I picked up a local newspaper to scan it for cell phone information. The bold headlines read "MASSACRE IN MALICATAN". An entire family had been butchered with machetes in some revenge killing. The accompanying photos of the violent aftermath included some children of the neighborhood. Some of the kids mugged for the camera, while others looked nonchalantly at the corpses.

Saturday there was a continual flow of children at the gate with little animals on strings, or in bags, or on strings in bags. The kids were extraordinarily adept at catching the fast-moving little critters. In a day and a half we had all the endemic lizards we needed, including the big, fast-moving basilisk. I can understand catching them as they sleep on branches at night, but these kids were coming in all day with ones they had just caught. To do the parasite studies we needed the animals alive, so we paid the kids more for them alive than dead. The kids seemed to enjoy the challenge.

One boy's bag suddenly began to shake. Whatever was inside wanted out. Soon, boy, bag, and all his little friends were shaking -- the boy from the violent gyrations of his bag, and his peers from excitement. As he extended his arms to revel the contents he loosened his grip and a foot-long black rat came bounding out of the bag. Luckily for Joe and me, the panicked rodent headed back through the crowd of shocked faces. They were soon scampering after the rat. Joe called them back, naively assuring them we were not buying rats. They laughed even louder.

All day Saturday and Sunday I spent preserving animals. They came in at a feverish pace. We did a series of each species of animal so the museum will have the numbers to do comparisons between animal populations and individual animals within a population. Animals are loaned from the collection to researchers all over the world. Comparisons are needed between male and female, adult, sub-adult, and juveniles. Numbers are a necessity, and we did the numbers. At one point Saturday it was obvious we had all the lizards we needed. So as the people came in, we bought the last of the lizards and said only snakes or "sleeping children," the local name for salamanders.

The process of preserving the animals is very exacting. After each animal has been killed, the tail and legs are slit on the underside to let the formalin in. With males the tail is injected with formalin just below the coloaca to extend the hemi-penis and then the body and head (depending on size) are injected. Then, while the animal is still pliable, it is positioned. With the body laid straight on moist paper towels, each leg is extended, the feet placed flat on the paper, and each toe separated. Lastly the tail is curved back around to parallel the body. On smaller animals, pin-tipped tweezers are used to position the almost imperceptible toes.

After hours of this exacting, infinitely focused work, I became aware of all the little eyes crowed around. Although the kids have no fear of the lizards, they believe most snakes are poisonous. Content with their new found wealth, they silently crowded around the verandah and watched as I put each animal to sleep and rest.