Working in a rainforest that rains a lot is itself also very challenging. One day, we had a heavy rainstorm on our way to our campsite in Valohoaka. The rain was so strong that it soaked my rain boots and made my feet swell. I also had many leeches stuck to my feet, which was very unpleasant. But I did not let that ruin my mood, because I knew that rain was essential for this tropical forest ecosystem. I embraced the adventure and enjoyed every moment!

This year, we decided to deploy a couple of GPS collars on the three large-bodied frugivorous lemur species in Ranomafana National Park to get a better sense of their movement patterns and activities. We worked with a team of experts in capturing and handling lemurs led by DVM Haja Rakotondrainibe. These GPS collars will allow us to investigate how lemur movement and foraging patterns change across seasons with varying fruit availability. I have been studying lemur ecology for more than a decade and this was the first that I got up close to my study species in their natural environment. It was exhilarating!  

​In many ways, 2022 has so far been a year of reconnection. As pandemic restrictions lift across the world and people return to their previous habits, many of us have specifically sought the joy of reunion. For many field biologists, the most important reunions have been their return to the forests, grasslands, coasts, wetlands, and mountains where they work. Like many others, I had to cancel my 2020 field season in Madagascar when the pandemic hit. This disruption threw my PhD completion plans out of sync and left me with the challenge of creating new projects and defending on time. After pulling that off, I was thrilled to join the Razafindratsima lab as a post-doc at UC Berkeley. This position brought immediate reunions, getting to see and work alongside the people I had missed from my work in Madagascar. It also brought the promise of a bigger reunion in the future, a return to Malagasy forests. I have now been in Madagascar for three weeks, filled with brilliant reunions and new encounters. Though when I began this journey, I did not expect to also encounter another reunion in-process: the return of Malagasy lemurs to forests damaged by recent cyclones.

This year the visit was full of re-wirings, as I practiced my Malagasy and continued to fill out my mental map of the city after a long absence. It is always a pleasure to turn an unfamiliar corner to find yourself in a familiar place or to successfully navigate to a location you have only visited once or twice before. During this process, I rely heavily on colleagues and friends, and this year I was particularly happy to be greeted with familiar faces. After a week, I finally set out to Ranomafana. As always, it was a relief to leave the busy city for quieter landscapes, and though one may be inclined to despair at the lack of forests, it is hard to deny the beauty of the Malagasy countryside.  ​

​Arriving in Ranomafana is always a satisfying homecoming. Despite difficulties caused by the pandemic, I was glad to see the staff had barely changed. The forest, from the road, looked similarly unchanged. An expanse of green clinging to vast hills. The story drastically changed when I entered the forest; in the lowlands, the damage appears minimal; but as you climb further in and up you begin to encounter damage. The damage caused by the two cyclones in early 2022 is first apparent by single fallen trees blocking the path, eventually becoming whole sections of forest knocked flat across the trail, blocking it completely and forcing us to take alternative routes. These encounters leave me with a mix of sadness and admiration. The death of these trees is sad, but getting to witness their vast but shallow roots now exposed has left me with a better appreciation of the structure of this forest. These open locations also offer dazzling views of the whole forest stretching away in a way that may trick you into thinking they are never-ending. Though I did not notice during that first harrowing hike, it did become apparent soon afterward that the cyclone had also left the forest a quieter place. We did not hear groups of Black-and-white ruffed lemurs greeting the morning with their haunting calls. We did not encounter red-fronted lemurs dashing noisily through the forest in large groups. And no matter how hard I peered at lumps of reddish moss in the canopy, none of them unfolded to reveal themselves as a quiet and observant, red-bellied lemur family. 

Conversing with my local technicians and other researchers, the picture came clearly together. The cyclone severely affected the forest, damaging many of the largest fruit-producing trees, and hampering the ability of the rest to provide on their regular schedule. At the same time, reports of lemur groups venturing farther out of the forest than they ever have, keep coming. For a startling example, the black-and-white ruffed lemur, the shiest of the three primarily frugivorous lemurs, has been spotted snacking on bananas in the middle of nearby villages. Our project for the summer was focused on examining how the qualities and spatial distribution of fruits affect lemur behavior, movement, and seed dispersal. And though this situation throws a wrench in our plan, it also provides us with an opportunity to study the recovery of plant-animal interactions. These connections, severed by the cyclones, must recover as plants regain the resources to flower and fruit again and the lemurs return to the forest. I am eager to continue my work here and to be a front-seat witness to this reconnection between the displaced lemurs and the trees that feed them and rely on them for seed dispersal. ​

Everything appeared to be a rush suddenly, and I was completely losing grip after eight months of a somehow calm schedule. The crowd I was facing when I first went outside of my neighborhood terrorized me. It was because not only I had to maintain a safe distance from them, but mainly because I had to readjust my ears and my eyes to hear so much noise and see so many people.
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I have also become so easily worn out. Whenever I come back from permit preparation, shopping for fieldwork, or just a short meeting out of my house, I am so tired that I can’t focus on any other works for the day. And I soon realize that the daily physical exercises I did at home are nothing compared to the daily morning walk I used to do before and the long and exhausting hikes in the forest.

I have never been very fit, but 8-month being confined at home have completely knocked me over. Walking 20km a day used to be a breeze, but it has become torture, even on a flat trail! Sometimes, I even have asthma attacks after a 20-min mountain hike or foggy walk, although I didn’t have any for more than five years. The entire field team also had a hard time when we got back to the field. In the forest, we have become easily breathless and always needed some time to recover before starting our daily tasks. We had to leave our campsite way earlier than before to hike slowly. I should have thought about getting in good shape before going back to the field! Thankfully, the team was very encouraging and supportive. They are cheering me like an athlete who just finished a run when I finally reach them, while they have already been taking a long break from the hike.

Despite the efforts of the field team to follow all the safety guidelines in place during fieldwork, we faced challenges when it comes to our own safety and the safety of the local communities. To work in some of our field sites, we have to camp in some villages and/or interact with villagers. However, because they are not well-aware of the pandemic situation, no one is wearing masks in the villages, and some of them even see us as threats when we wear masks. Widespread conspiracy and rumors have reached the remote villages, unfortunately. Most of them believe that Covid-19 is a pure invention despite several cases in Madagascar and even in their villages. They also think that even if it exists, it won’t reach them as they are remote and far away from the city where the disease is attacking.
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Thankfully, they are open to discussion and learn. As a scientist and educator, I felt compelled to educate my fellow Malagasy about what I know. And my team members did the same as well. They would ask us a lot of questions. What is Covid-19, how it spreads, how can you protect yourself and others, what to do if they suspect a case, what progress science has made to treat and limit the pandemic, etc. We’ve also discussed how aggressing or killing wild animals out of the fear of being infected is definitely not the way to go. It has become one of our duties to do so every time we arrive at a new village. I believe it is the role of all field researchers, even if they are not experts in the matter, to educate the local communities about this pandemic and any other diseases and show them the best practices. Such remote locations don’t always have access to up-to-date information and often are vulnerable to conspiracy and fear-mongering rumors.