16:31, Monday, 5 November, 2012

Happy birthday to my cousin/sister Alison Warstler!  Love you very much!

Okay, just a few more primate stories.  These ones will be in the form of Karma, our bold little bushbaby.  We have trained her to come eat from the table, and she even has her own seat now; we put spaghetti on it and she’ll stay to snack on the noodles.  If ever we should fail to notice her approach (which in general is hard to do since her jumping onto the tent pole makes such a distinctive thump), she no longer just remains waiting on the side.  Rather, we look down to find her stuck to the side of our chair, great big orbs staring at us, enormous ears in a forward position that proclaims her utmost expectation.  If only she could know how much I love her, she might let me pick her up and hug her to pieces – as it is, I can only dream of a world in which attempting such a thing would be even remotely advisable.

One night we decided to see if Karma would crawl onto my back.  I lay down prostrate and Charlie set some garlic bread atop me.  The Milk Fairy (Julia) even shook a line of the powdered milk she uses in her box trials leading up to me.  Karma paid no attention to the milk, but she couldn’t resist that garlic bread.  It was so difficult to stifle my laughter when she approached, back arched like a cat, unsure of what to do.  The first time she leaned heavily and so avoided walking onto me, but we adjusted the bread so that it was further back for the next time.  When she returned I held my breath, and after much hesitation...she did it!  The gentle weight of her little hands pressed momentarily against my back before she jumped off with her prize.  Charlie, Julia, and Dave cheered.  The fun we have!

Our food is not the only thing Karma likes to eat.  One night I looked over to see a gorgeous, enormous black beetle.  I was super excited about it – it was a type I had never seen before, sectioned beautifully into a head and thorax, about three inches in length with long legs. But no sooner had I started to point it out to Charlie than Karma walked up out of nowhere, picked it up, and with a huge crunch the object of my fascination lived no more.  Although somewhat devastated, I couldn’t help but laugh as she held it in her hand and pointedly chewed, completely oblivious to our noticing her act, before jumping back off to the pole, from which we heard periodic hair-raising crunches. 

We also have a new bushbaby that comes around as well, much shier than Karma so that we have to distract her to slip the new one food.  This one’s eyes bug out more and it has several scars on its face.  I love it.  We have discussed names, but haven’t settled on anything that I can remember.

As far as the bushbabies’ rivals, Kelsey had me worried to the point where I was dreaming about her as she hadn’t showed up for about two months.  Then, one night after we had a discussion about her disappearance (Dave suggested maybe Foxtrot ate her...what a thing to suggest!), she suddenly slunked in out of nowhere!  I swear, the timing of things in accordance with our conversations is unreal.  Kelsey has grown lots and become more timid, running up to snatch things before quickly retreating back to the sidelines, but I know it’s her by her face and her response to the clucking sounds we taught her.  I cannot think where she would have gone, and don’t know enough about vervet biology to have a good guess.  If only we had GPS collars for vervets...

Verna is shy and sweet as ever, only becoming bold on the nights we have meat to offer.  She was my one dinner companion in early October when Charlie was away in Nairobi, and Dave and Julia on vacation.  I was so happy to see her after waiting in vain the first few nights for anyone to show up.  I couldn’t figure out where Karma had gone until I discovered the culprit: Joseph was slipping her food over by the kitchen tent!

The closest living relatives to the primate family = bats!  The fruit bats have been flapping about during the day as of late.  I love to see their forms suddenly swoop down over my head when I walk from my tent to the solar tent in order to charge my computer.  They disappear into the trees faster than you can get a good look at them, though.  The baboons are normally helpful in scattering them loose for longer periods when they come about.

The small Nycteridae bat species that live under the lab tent awning were flying around one afternoon as I worked at the table.  Dickson, Wilson’s younger half brother (who I met at his wedding) has come up to Talek for school, and was helping me out rewriting the boards and things.  He was really taken with the bats, so we took a break to watch them.  That’s when I noticed a tiny form nursing from the adult female, stuck to her belly like those baby-carrier things that some women strap to their fronts.  It was the sweetest thing!  The mother was more wary of us than usual, just like the hyenas when they have new little ones, and didn’t tolerate us watching her long before flapping off to the back of the tent.  You could tell it was a bit more difficult for her to fly with such precious cargo, but her agility was still quite impressive.  At the back of the tent she huddled up to one of the other bats, likely the previous kid we saw nursing during the summer since it was subadult-sized, and they made a cozy little sandwich around the infant.

A black mamba or two have made semi-recent appearances.  Perhaps one of them is Mamba Mia!  I heard a great crashing by the kitchen tent one afternoon.  Joseph dropped a dish – he claims it had nothing to do with the two and a half meter mamba he immediately afterward called to me to see.  By the time I heard him it was gone; he said it had slithered off quick as lightning when it saw him.  I didn’t have much chance to be disappointed at not getting a peek, because two days later I heard the distinctive sound that announces “snake!”, and soon thereafter spotted another one slithering about in the leaves next to the lab tent.  It was hard to tell its length due to the surrounding woodland debris, but it looked younger than the one Joseph described.  I was sure to warn the others of its whereabouts; Charlie was with me when I saw it, and all he said when I pointed it out was, “Well, that’s scary” before promptly returning to what he was doing.  I had to chuckle.

To conclude with the “medium sized” animals, we had a porcupine in our trash pit one night.  Julia announced it after discarding a poop bag, and we grabbed a flashlight and nearly bowled her over as we rushed to see it; I don’t think she was expecting such an enthusiastic reaction.  Caught a glimpse as it waddled off into the surrounding bush.  A slender mongoose and warthog have both shown up to stop their busy scouting and scrutinize me, temporarily alarmed before continuing about their business, the day I opted for a change and worked up at the desk outside Kay’s tent.  One fortuitous morning we saw a side-striped jackal out on obs– my first one!  I was surprised at how much it resembled a black-backed jackal, although it was more grayish and (go figure) had a side-stripe.  Saw a hare jump about two feet in the air for no apparent reason, same with a spring hare while we watched a group by Paul’s tree at night; they appear to be denning (assuming they den) in the hole where the bat-earred foxes lived when I first arrived.  Again, for no apparent reason, one suddenly leapt crazily high into the air before landing in the hole.  These animals are amusing in the simplest ways, which is why I never tire of watching them.  When I was a little girl my favorite company consisted of animals, partially because of the way they could make me laugh out of nowhere, no matter how heavily the circumstances of life sometimes weighed.  They are the grandest for that.  Just like the two male tommies who almost got their horns tangled as they sparred, before one turned tail and fled (I surrender!) as the other sprinted after it.  And the impala that we can hear burp-grunt running after females that I know I’ve written about – never gets old in its hilarity.  And the monitor lizard by the lab tent that again  crashed off in terror when I so much as glanced sideways at it.  Smiles all around.

Also, I seem to have forgotten to post this little tidbit:

11:01, October 31^st, 2012

As I sit here writing, it’s possible I have never felt more ridiculous in my entire life.  Folded duct tape is stuck over the top of my ears, my red-spotted Maasai kanga wrapped around my middle with a bunched up T-shirt underneath, a hand-held stick broom shoved between some spandex and shorts at my bum, and a smelly old hyena collar (which I didn’t have any chance to disinfect) hanging around my neck.  I am Alice the hyena, with her elf ears, reddish tint, general heftiness, a bristle-tail, complete with a fallen-off collar that we conveniently tracked a few days ago in Prozac (Lord only knows what sort of bacteria are crawling all over this thing.)  But, prodded by the costume guru Charlie, I couldn’t disregard the holiday that is so very hard to explain to Kenyans who have never heard of it before.  Happy Halloween from Africa!