Sardinia Continued..

As we left the airport and headed to the shores of Cagliari the sun began to set behind the mountains, luckily we had time to capture this beautiful sight as the water reflected the colours of the fading light.

In no time at all we drove away from the city and headed south to the Sulics,  where wonderful committed people were met, and a fabulously wild Mediterranean forest was crossed.

In which, also, the deep culturally rooted problem of animal poaching was investigated, and its universe of dense political and economical reasons to exist was discovered.

May we say it ourselves, the problem is bigger and darker than we thought. May the Blackbird, the Robin, and the Sardinian Deer, whoso photos feature briefly below, represent the reality of what indiscriminate poaching of these animals can do: slow and painful deaths, often of unwanted animals left to rot in the same traps they died in and never collected, just so that a few selected grams of meat can go and feed the mouths of the rich and heartless few who can afford paying £80 and more for a few boiled birds.

A lot can and should be said about this, which doesn't only involve Sardinia, nor just Italy, but virtually every Mediterranean country. Hopefully the film we will make in the next few months will manage to concisely tell the story of the long fight against bird and ungulate poaching in Sardinia, but for a larger and broader look at the problem, we fully recommend the wonderful essay "Emptying the Skies" by American writer Jonathan Franzer. Here 

                                                                  

  Capoterra, the heart of poaching in Sardinia. The sign says it all.

Meet the team. This tireless bunch woke up every day before dawn, walked 10Km and more uphill, removed thousands of traps, and even tolerated us filming them, all with a smile on their faces.

Day one, introducing The Forest. A stunning 68900 hectars of Mediterranean forest, covered in Holly Oak, Arbutus, Cork Oaks, Prickly juniper, Christmas Holly, Montpellier Maple, Myrtus and many more we don't even know the names of.

One armed and very new trap for ungulates. With this type of trap poachers hope to capture boar, which they can sell in the black market for about 10 euros a Kg, but unfortunately more often than not Sardinian deer get trapped in them. This is a protected species which was on the brink of extinction just a couple of decades ago.

When a trap is found, the wire is removed and folded away by the volunteers.


                                                                       

 A few of the wires for ungulate traps found after a mornings work in the forest.

A beautiful adult male, at least 4 years old, trapped in the leg. Needless to say, this male suffered a long and painful death. What's even more absurd is the fact that the carcass is unwanted and the poacher will not remove it: there is no market for deer meat and the risk of being caught with it (being a highly protected species) is too high. This deer will become food for the scavengers of the forest.

                                                         

Screenshot from video, just to be reminded of the beauty and grace of these creatures.

 Nora beach, the start of another day.


                                                                                                            

An example of the beautiful Linchens which thrived within the forest


Elisa, the youngest of the volunteers, and one of the very few at the camp who is from Sardinia, in the process of removing an aerial trap for birds.

The team celebrate removing the 100th trap of the day.

The President of Lipu, looking over a mountainside covered in traps

An unfortunate blackbird, fallen prey to an aerial trap. Blackbirds, together with Thrushes, are the birds that poachers are after because they make up the "griva", the traditional food still eaten by a few in Sardinia at Christmas.

Freeing a dead Robin from a ground trap he unfortunately fell into.

We will keep you posted about editing of the film.

Nick, Oropendola Productions

 

Italian Sunrise Time-Lapse

Perhaps it was only a matter of time or perhaps we were inspired by the beautiful location, but either way, on July 11th with the aid of an intervalometer and a tripod, we gave into the desire to try timelapse photography.

Falling In Style - Gliding Ants of the Peruvian Jungle

Cephalotes atratus, King of Controlled Aerial Decent

We all know of Buzz Lightyears unquestioned ability to fall in style, but he may have a new rival in the form of the Gliding Ants from Peru. Cephalotes atratus is a species found in the canopy of many neotropical forests, but it is no normal ant, because it exhibits this fascinating, almost magnetic attraction to glide back to the trunk of the tree from which it came.  It was a researcher from Berkely who noticed this, whilst sat in the canopy of the Iquitos jungle, when he brushed off a number of ants that were investigating his presence on their tree. That's when he noticed that rather than dropping like dead weight and randomly falling into the undergrowth, a group of ants soared and planed around the tree, until finally cascading back onto the original tree trunk.

Following further investigation, he discovered that they free-fall on average for 3 to 4 seconds whilst slowing their decent and locking onto the tree, orientating their flattened head, hind legs and abdomen like wings to make a rapid adjustment to point towards the home tree. Finally, the ant turns upside down and extends its claws on the legs at just the right moment to grab onto the trunk before impact. In real time this as impressive as it sounds, like a mesmerising J-shaped glide back to the tree,  which you can watch in this video:

This video was created to compare a non-gliding and a gliding ant, both dropped from a tree. Video courtesy of Steve Yanoviak.

So what is the evolutionary driving force behind this adaptation? Well, being blind, they communicate through the ability to sense and release pheromones.  As such, when they fall off a branch straight onto the jungle floor it is likely they would be unable to find the chemical pathway back to the colony leaving them lost, alone and vulnerable to predation.

Further, in the depths of rainy season the forest floor can quickly turn into a river, so any ant knocked off the tree due to strong winds or even a passing monkey would be quickly carried away by the current, becoming tasty fish food. There is even some evidence that the ants jump in desperate yet calculated attempts to flee their predators, which would make Cephalotes atratus one of the coolest ants around of the jungle (as if ants weren't cool enough already!)

I was lucky enough to encounter a few in the jungles of Manu National Park whilst working last year. In fact, one is the star of the little video "The Tasty Wood"! Check out the dark flat head, spiny back, rounded yet flat abdomen and long back legs, all tools for Controlled Aerial Decent, also known as "falling in style".

Nick, Oropendola Productions

South American Chronicles: Bandanas and Chainsaws

A sleepy prince

(If you haven’t already, click here to read the previous chapter)

The days passed, but no sign of Dante and Karina or more importantly food and gas. Once or twice a day, a boat sailed past Amaru Mayu. When these were going upstream, you could sometimes hear the roar of the engine before the boat became visible from our cabin. When that happened, we would all run to the terrace and wait with hope and a pinch of disillusion. As soon as the boat made its way around the corner of the mountain, ten to fifteen white/pink tourists would usually become visible, in spite of their full camouflage suits, pointing lenses longer than my arm at us, disappointed members of the same species. But apart from providing these brief moments of excitement, the absence of Dante and Karina meant we had no eggs, bananas nor bread. Which are basically the food staples when you live in the jungle, without a fridge. We weren't worried though, we had some reserves of rice, dry beans and yucca in the kitchen, which we knew could last us for a little while longer.

Occasionally, an odd character made his appearance in the camp. His name was David, quickly nicknamed Rambo, due to his habit of wearing a bandana and proudly sporting a testosterone fuelled perfectly sculpted body, whilst usually holding a chainsaw in one hand and a machete in the other. All this, whilst relentlessly chewing on coca leaves. He was macho, very macho, and he knew it. But he was also very quiet and made me wonder many times whether he was an incredibly wise man or just a very arrogant one. He hardly ever spoke to the others and definitely never spoke to us, but apparently he was a friend of Dante's and for this reason he would share his food with us. This in practice meant that he would appear in the camp every other morning with some freshly killed fish, cook himself some overly salted rice and then disappear with his chainsaw, to go and "maintain" the paths, leaving just the fish heads behind for us to eat. We would then probably not see him again until the following day, but we could hear the angry cry of his saw from most places in the reserve. We eventually nicknamed this "the sound of conservation".

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Ruben, who managed to extract some information from him, told us he was a local, a "man of the forest". He worked for Dante, the reserve manager, and had been sent there on this occasion to look after us, the white men and women who can't look after themselves otherwise. We weren't too sure at first how to interpret this weird character and his huge chainsaw, but we didn't give it much importance and carried on with our work.

In those first few days, everything was a new and exciting discovery. Since Dante wasn't there, we decided we would spend all of our time getting the video and sound recordings for ourselves, trying to make the most of the few charged batteries we had left. We made our first encounters with capuchin and squirrel monkeys, got to know a few hairy caterpillars, dozens of butterflies and spent a huge portion of our time filming and recording the sound of the ubiquitous, but still wonderful and fascinating, leaf cutter ants. At night there wasn't much to do, apart from staring at the flame of a candle and discussing at length all the possible reasons, factual and fictional, as to why moths are the most suicidal of all creatures. This, and watching the Moon raise with dignity over the river Madre de Dios, brighter than any other Moon I had ever seen before.

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Just your average night landscape in the jungle!

 Greta, Oropendola Productions