Field note #7

Torrential rain, ravenous leeches, rainforest bramble, and the all-pervasive bean! ​

Raine Zulueta, an undergraduate student at the University of California Berkeley, shares his field experience working with the field team in Ranomafana, Madagascar.

It all began in Antananarivo, the capital of Madagascar, where I enjoyed a peaceful sojourn complete with a plethora of snacks and, of course, sambos of all flavors! As a week passed and my jet lag began to subside, we were set onto a 15-hour journey down to Centre Val-Bio via car. With roads bumpy, views blurred in passing, the Malagasy sun beamed down to grant us a sunny welcome to Madagascar’s countryside. I particularly enjoyed passing through Madagascar’s many townships settled right beside the nation’s main speedway, RN7, not to mention the herds of humble zebu that would calmly meander alongside the road.

On the way to Ranomafana. Photo by Onja Razafindratsima

Time would pass in the car, and it felt as though I had gained a heightened sense of patience as I took notice of the passage of time. After around 15 hours, complete with dark winding roads up the mountainside, we would eventually arrive. Our legs numb and figuratively full of static, we turned in for two nights to relax before our very first day in the field. This was only the beginning of this two-month journey, and I was more than excited to take my first steps into the rainforest.

View of Ranomafana National Park from the rooftop of Centre ValBio. Photo by Onja Razafindratsima

After becoming accommodated with the mosaic of other individuals at the research station, from inquisitive graduate students, droves of New Yorker undergraduates, and researchers from all over the world, it was time to say goodbye to civilization and head out into the rainforest. Conditions were ideal; the sun gleamed to warm the earth beneath us, reducing the risk of injury by-way-of falling. I, of course, still fell, slipped, and slid, but I felt that this ultimately was all part of the trek experience. Two miles into this rainforest crash course, elevations dipping up and down as we traverse the mountainsides, I began to lose service and all forms of communication to the outside world. Whilst puffing and panting the thin mountain air, I was alarmed. I had never truly been off the grid, let alone in the tropical rainforests of Madagascar. Yet still, motivated by my Spotify playlist, research mates, and the burning desire to sit down, we would eventually make it to Valohoaka, our campsite.

With about 5 miles under our belts, and food on our minds, we immediately make it down to the camp kitchen to set down our bags. With a new feeling of weightlessness I felt able to truly take in my surroundings, rest, and admire both the rainforest and campsite. Valohoaka, or Valo for short, is situated on the side of one of Ranomafana National Park’s many mountains. Visions of tarps of all colors first catch the eye, acting as roofs to provide shelter against the everpresent rain. Each camper occupied their own tent to create what seemed to be a miniature village on the mountainside, reaching capacities that would force new researchers to set up camp near the peak where the plateau rested. With the gracious help of local guides, my tent was established, and before I knew it I retired to a deep slumber. This was home for the next two months.

Valohoaka campsite. Photo by Raine Zulueta

Time would pass, and by mid-July I had reached a rhythm and routine that felt like second nature. I would scurry down to the dining table, consisting of local wooden planks fastened with homely leather straps and cordage, beginning to devour my breakfast typically composed of either meat or eggs, rice, and beans

At around 7:00 in the morning, we would begin to hike to the research site up the mountain, to begin our search for one of the three lemur species within the project: Eulemur rufifrons, Eulemur rubriventer, and Varecia variegata editorum. My responsibility within the project revolved around tracking and taking note of their behavior every five minutes. With my Rite-in-the-Rain handy, I would utilize different codes that would act as shorthand to describe what the lemurs were doing. For example, sleeping was shortened to “SL”, feeding to “F”, and even defecating and drinking water to “D” and “DW” respectively. To help gain experience in the different species, I would be placed onto one of the three different teams every week or so. This entailed mass amounts of learning through the experience itself, which I particularly enjoyed. It was fascinating to take note of the different temperaments and personalities that each species sustained, in addition to the behavioral patterns that would naturally arise.

Eulemur rubriventer (red-bellied lemur). Photo by Raine Zulueta

Data notebook with a chameleon. Photo by Raine Zulueta

One of my fondest memories in the field happened during an Eulemur rubriventer follow. As you can likely assume, it rains quite a lot in the rainforest, and truthfully I expected the same if not more before arriving to Ranomafana National Park. But on this particular day, I had seen rain in a way I had never seen it before. It was truly torrential, hefty droplets of water plummeting at speeds and in sheer volumes unbeknownst to me as a Californian. We were bounding up the mountain, slashing through the rainforest foliage while chasing a red-bellied lemur as it sprung from canopy to canopy. Seemingly increasing in speed, the male lemur swiftly scaled the mountainside, the slashing of brush audibly constant, almost rhythmic. Crossing through ephemeral rivers, waterfalls, slippery rocks and more, we eventually reached the mountain’s peak. Upon our arrival we were greeted by a sight I hold dearly to my heart, what I think made this lemur follow so special: a lone E. rubriventer female sitting in the middle of a clearing, looking up at the canopy and rainfall misting her visage, almost in admiration. While the rain completely soaked all of our belongings, my backpack and rain coat dripping to the touch, I found solace in the cooling relief that it delivered as I found my body fatigued from the scramble up the mountain. This is but one of many memories created, stories encountered, and experiences lived, throughout this field season.

In all of its totality, Madagascar taught me a lifetime of lessons that I am more than grateful to have experienced. It felt incredible to be able to reconnect with nature, rediscover how far I am willing to push myself, and enjoy science for its ability to hone in on what makes our planet so special. As a child I loved to explore, in addition to the natural world, science, and its animals. And by going on this trip, seeing the lemurs, doing research, and feeling like a scientist, I like to think that my younger self would be ecstatic to see where I ended up.

And with a field experience full of twists and turns, ups and downs, and absolutely everything in between, the summer between my freshman and sophomore year transformed into the experience of a lifetime. Entering the project as a rising sophomore, I truly had no expectations.

Raine & Hasina at Valohoka camp

My association with field work, yet alone tropical fieldwork, could be expressed as a blank slate. Lemur research in the tropical rainforests of Madagascar is not where I saw myself five years ago, but I am genuinely more than grateful to have ended up where I did. As niche as this entire summer was, I firmly believe that this trip helped me find myself on levels deeper than I could ever imagine, all while learning what it means to conduct research and contribute to crucial conservation efforts.