#32 - TALES FROM THE FIELD #3

In my last installment of my ongoing "TALES FROM THE FIELD" series we were in Suriname. I told stories about a somewhat bizarre visit to a native Maroon village, our open air viewings of Game of Thrones and more. The first installment shared stories from Costa Rica with ice axes in my feet, cat-chased green iguanas and rear-fanged snakes held for photos by Brit mates who had no clue of their venomous bite until afterward. I'd like to add a few more glimpses into each of these field trips here.

The ice axe was certainly my first "what the fuck" moment in Costa Rica, but I learned that it was the perfect tool for the job and I highly recommend it for digging out embankment burrows. But it remained a source of amusement six years later in the jungles of Suriname. We had arrived for one of several daily visits to Brownsberg Natuurpark in search of Theraphosa blondi. Andrew was ALWAYS the last person ready each morning and usually just when we thought he would finally climb into the car he'd have to take a last minute latrine trip or retrieve one last piece of gear. Paul, Guy and I were already dressed for the jungle, but Andrew liked to ride to the site (it was a 30 minute drive to Brownsberg and then a tortuous drive uphill on a rutted and dangerous clay road) in comfy clothes. He'd wear shorts and sandals and then change once we stopped for our first hike into the dense rainforest. So there he was in the middle of the red clay road on the ascent to the top of Brownberg stripped down to his whitey-tighties. It was a moment I couldn't resist. Here was a grey and pasty white famous arachnohistorian naked except for his skivvies. I grabbed my camera and asked him to pose with his ice axe. To his credit he was very willing, as long as I promised that I would never share the image with anyone. Sorry, but I keep my promises and that picture is safe with me. But if I ever need a good laugh I have that image on my hard drive. A man I revered for many years and then became one of my best friends; a man who is famous the world over as a tarantula expert; a man who has cultivated an image as an eccentric Victorian-in-the-modern-age arachnohistorian, standing with only his nob and bollocks covered holding the ice axe in a menacing pose. He knows never to piss me off or that photo will become a viral Internet meme!

Costa Rica was the country I fell most in love with. I still dream of retiring there. It was my first field trip with Andrew and our team and I cherish all my memories of that expedition. One story that will always be remembered is my encounter with a Centruroides limbatus scorpion. Our lodging was at Capazuri outside of Cañas in central Costa Rica. It was our 3rd base camp out of 4. We discovered that this area and many others within a short drive were teeming with Aphonopelma seemanni. It almost seemed too easy. All we had to do was take a stroll down the dirt road in back of the hotel and there was burrow after burrow holding adult female A. seemanni. This was dry country and the trees along the road held black spiny-tailed iguanas (Ctenosaura similis). Whenever you'd approach or try to photograph they would wedge themselves into the knotted branches and tree holes. We also found scorpions and another species of tarantula (presumably a Crypsidromus sp.). While we stayed at Capazuri we would locate burrows by day and then to return at night to photograph the resident tarantulas. It was great fun walking down the road and shining our flashlights ("torches" to my mates) on the dry dirt embankment and seeing all of the striped legs at the burrow mouths. The seemanni were tremendously abundant. Paul had taken to catching katydids during the day and tying string to them to sort of "fish" for the tarantulas and offer them a meal.

We always use two-way radios as our normal practice is to split into two two-man teams and spread out our search. This night I was teamed with Andrew, who was well-known for breaking protocol and wandering off alone. To be fair, I liked to do the same. So while Paul and Mark (brothers) went off somewhere out of sight it wasn't long until Andy and I lost sight of each other. Fortunately Andy was the one who carried the radio. Eventually Paul and Mark walked back my direction and the three of us "played" with all of the exposed female A. seemanni. We would catch various katydids and crickets and grasshoppers and chuck meals to the girls. I was kneeling along the roadside embankment photographing one spider when I saw a very large scorpion hastily moving alongside the bank. I had brought a camcorder to Costa Rica and I filmed the scorpion moving about the roadside. I wanted to get still shots of it the next morning so I decided I would capture it. But as I've "tailed" thousands of scorpions throughout my career, I neglected to get out my forceps and capture it safely. I reached for it's telson and before long it felt like someone had slammed my thumb in a car door. I was tagged by a hot scorpion and the pain was initially pretty intense. I clearly remember stating the obvious, "Well, that was stupid."

I must interject here to say that those of you who know me are aware that I am heavily tattooed. I wasn't then, but my arms and legs are covered now. I am famous by both of my tattoo artists for being "a rock" who can sit for 8 hours without flinching. I enjoy being tattooed. My pain tolerance is very high and I can even nap while getting tattooed. But this sting hurt! My thumb began to swell and my mates started to worry. I knew well that the best thing to do when envenomed by snake, scorpion or whatever is to remain calm. A racing heart only expedites the effects. We radioed Andy and he found his way back. He insisted on walking me back to our shared room, which was a good thing as I had become disoriented and my hand felt like it was on fire. Back at the room I reached into my kit for antihistamines and painkillers. I took about 4 times as many Benadryl as is advised and downed at least four Tylenol as well. I laid on my back on my bunk and held my arm dangling off the side towards the floor, keeping my hand well below my heart. I was sure I would be fine, but my mates were more worried. I actually dozed off and they kept checking on me during the night to see that I was OK. The pain had subsided and it was becoming more swollen and itchy than anything. Eventually I slept until morning and by then the effects had mostly dissipated. There was still a bit of swelling and the sting site was itchy. A few more Benadryl and it was on to another day. This was the last time I didn't use my forceps for Buthidae scorpion catching on a field trip. We found some beautiful Tityus paraensis in Suriname years later, which are not only hotter than the C. limbatus, but larger and more beautiful. I kept my body well away from their stingers.

Returning to Suriname ... I coined the term "Arachnohistorian" to describe Andrew Smith. He initially trained as a history teacher before studying science and his works center around the early collectors and arachnologist. He always takes us to historical sites on our field trips and we always bemoan the diversion from tarantula hunting. Our Suriname field trip was based on Madame Maria Sibylla Merian's famous trip there and her paintings of the "bird eating spider" that gave rise to the name Avicularia. Andrew wanted to visit the oldest cemetery in search of a tombstone of one of her relatives or something. I'm not much on history and don't pay much attention. We just are left with no choice but to humor him and spend a day out of the field. In fact, when we arrived at the cemetery I was happy to let him wander about while I stood on the street and walked the neighborhood looking at shops and people and buying a cool drink. The cemetery was in the capitol city of Paramaribo where over half of all Suriname's population resides. It was surrounded by a six foot brick wall and I stood alongside the wall smoking a cigar. I soon realized that the poorly kept cemetery, which was overgrown with weeds had another use. I watched men who appeared homeless climb over the wall and squat behind tombstones to defecate. My displeasure at spending a day doing this instead of chasing spiders, frogs and lizards began to increase exponentially. I warned Andrew to watch his step and to be on alert for the small brown men that were "dropping trou" among the dead. Sometimes our trip moments are surreal.

I'll conclude this entry with a return to 2006 and Costa Rica. As an arboreal specialist, the spider I most wanted to see was Psalmopoeus reduncus. But locating arboreal species can be very hard work and we had already found Tapinauchenius plumipes and Avicularia sp. I knew that the "Psalms" would be tougher and they were widespread throughout the country. So, we decided that we would not focus on them, but just hope we stumbled on to one as we searched for ground-dwelling species. Mark Carpenter is Paul's half-brother who is his junior by about a dozen years. He is not a spider man. He travels with us just to see the world and spend time with his brother in exotic locales. But he has an astonishing and very annoying habit of finding spiders before us "real spider men" on many occasions. We were in an affluent suburb near where we expected to find Cyclosternum sp. As it turned out we never located any "tiger-rumps" on our trip, and it was the only disappointment of a wonderful expedition. After spending a good deal of time in rural areas away from anything other than sparse villages with little shacks or houses, it was a bit strange to be walking past manicured lawns and some nice modern houses. But this was the type locality for our target and that afternoon we walked past saying "hola" and "buenas tardes" to Costa Rica's "upper class". It was balmy and a bit off-putting to be trespassing on the neighborhood. Mark paused at a knotted tree on the other side of a roadside fence and then asked "Michael, is this Psalmopoeus you are looking for a bronze spider that lives in trees?" This is just one of several similar occasions like this on the trip. Mark had found the spider despite not really knowing what he was looking for. He just liked to shine his "torch" into tree holes and the like and he had discovered the spider I had most wanted to see! We were able to capture it and get photographs before releasing it later.

Of course, the Costa Rican tarantula that was at the top of the entire team's wish list was Megaphobema mesomelas. This is a cloud forest spider and is most often associated with Monteverde. However, this is a national park and we try to avoid them. We don't collect, but we still have to dig out many burrowers and this would land us in trouble inside Monteverde. So we found a high elevation location east of Monteverde and took a scenic drive uphill. Costa Rica has little stands that sell cold drinks, beer and snacks or even lunch. These oases are called sodas. We came upon one that was surrounded by the fog and had a spectacular view of verdant mountains across a valley enveloped by mist and fog. We stopped for a refreshment and next to the soda was a long and steep grassy embankment. We would find many M. mesomelas here in just one quarter mile stretch of road. While the guys had wandered off to search the embankment I had myself a cold drink and spoke to the owner. I explained that we were searching for spiders using my best Spanish. He spoke a bit of English as well. Before long some young workers returned with a plastic jug containing a spider. It was a beautiful adult female orange wandering spider (Cupiennius coccineus). I explained that these were mostly harmless to humans and didn't bother challenging my Spanish ability with explaining that their venom was very deadly to arthropod prey. I took the spider out and held it for photographs. Meanwhile, the lads had found burrows holding M. mesomelas, but had yet to successfully "tickle one out" and did not want to start digging right next to the soda. The owner of the soda disappeared for ten minutes or so and when he returned he had a small cardboard box in his hands. He gave it to me and I opened it to see one of the most beautiful spiders I've ever laid eyes on in the field. It was a stunning, freshly molted female M. mesomelas. I thanked him and ran to where the guys were working burrows to show them the prize. We returned to the soda and the owner showed Andrew where he had dug up the spider for us. He knew it lived there and it was just behind the soda near his storage area. We wanted to give the guy a tip, but he refused. So we ordered a round of celebratory cold beers and some snacks from him before returning to the embankment to tickle out a few more.

I suppose I should remind you here that my entire Costa Rica story, which was originally published as the only article in the final ARACHNOCULTURE magazine, is on my website. If you want to read the story of the entire trip with images click here for the first of 30 webpages that contain the article and select the "Next Page" link to progress through the pages.

Hope your fourth was safe. Thanks for reading! MJ

#29 - TALES FROM THE FIELD #1

Some of you have attended my lectures on my travels in pursuit of tarantulas. I never collect. I find, observe and photograph. And I'm known to scare up a few snakes along the way. You may have also seen my videos, either on my YouTube Channel, many of which are short clips of snake wrangling or tarantula spiders. I hope to add some from my recent Sri Lanka expedition soon. Others of you may have purchased my one hour documentary on our team's 2006 field trip to Costa Rica from Andrew Smith's Love Tarantulas. It's only five bucks. Give it a go.

Our field trips consist of four man teams with a roster of five. Each year one is not involved. Andrew Smith is typically the de facto leader and my teammates also include Paul Carpenter, Guy Tansley and Mark Carpenter. These trips typically last three to four weeks and as I am the sole American they take on an air of classic British wit with deadpan delivery of sarcasm and self-deprecation. They love to "take the piss" out of each other and their big American companion is an easy target.

Four blokes spending three weeks or more together is bound to create tensions that are eased by humor (or do you say humour?) and relentless sarcasm. Trekking jungles is hard and sweaty work and we are very serious about our tarantula hunting. But during down time over a few beers, or whenever you get the chance to poke fun at a mate, sharp-tongued wit is unleashed with a fury. In short, we have a blast.

But certain stories always stick out in my mind. Some may be "you had to be there" to be found amusing, but I thought I share some memories of our experiences outside of fieldwork.

The first tale is from my first trip with the team. It was 2006 and Costa Rica. I cannot tell you how excited I was to be going on a tarantula adventure with Andrew Smith. When his Tarantula Classification Guide was released many years earlier I paged through it incessantly and wondered who this Andrew M. Smith was. We would meet in person for the first time at the ATS conference in 2003 in Carlsbad, New Mexico. He was the keynote lecturer and delivered one of his many fascinating lectures on Poecilotheria. He was with his American mate, the late Michael Sullivan, and I bought a copy of his Tarantulas of USA & Mexico out of the backseat of Michael's dusty 4x4. We would meet again soon thereafter when he once again spoke for ATS, this time in Phoenix. We had become fast friends who have enjoyed many a whiskey and cigar together. He asked me to join him in Costa Rica and I jumped out of my skin. I was going to travel with a legend and I couldn't have been more eager and excited. Of course, we are now dear mates who have spent many hours together around the world and at his home in southeast London. But then I was a bit starstruck.

Jump ahead to my arrival in Costa Rica. Through a booking error I arrived a day after the team so they had already had a day to sort our rental car and some provisions. When I arrived at the airport in San Jose I met Paul and his brother Mark for the first time and the four of us piled into the little hired car. I deferred to my new English mates and climbed in the back despite being by far the tallest and heaviest. I kept mostly silent as I was the new guy and wasn't going to force my strong and obnoxious American personality on then from the start. They know me differently now ;)

Costa Rica drives American style so right hand driving was a bit foreign for Paul and Andy tried to use his multitude of maps to navigate our way out of the capitol and to the northeast where we wanted to begin. We had not chosen a base camp and we made every decision on the fly throughout the field trip. But Andrew had maps, notebooks, journals and his omnipresent pipe and scarf and we rolled up and down winding roads trying to make progress away the urban center of Costa Rica. Mark and I were wedged in the backseat with one or two of my bags between us. My legs were bent however I could get them and my knees seemed to be in my chin. I felt a pain in my right foot and wondered what was digging into me, but I could barely move my long legs. I'm 6' 2" and on this trip I probably was about 240-250#. What they would call seventeen and a half stone. The ball of my right foot became more and more cramped and pained. The floorboards of our silver Daihatsu or whatever it was were definitely attacking my foot. I tried to shift my body over so I could reach down and explore. I felt a bar of sorts and grabbed onto an aluminum handle and pulled up an ice axe. Here I was sweating my cornfed American arse off in the claustrophobic rear seat of some Costa Rican rental, and for some bloody reason we had an ice axe in the car. We were thousands of miles from the flippin' Andes!

Andrew then regaled me with a tale of Martin Filmer, from whom he had learned the "ice axe" technique for digging out embankment burrows for tarantulas. Andrew had come to the balmy tropics with something made for vertical ascents of frozen waterfalls, only he had cut part of the handle's length off to make it more compact and easy to swing repeatedly to entrench soil. A sawed off ice axe, if you will. Suitably educated, I placed it where it wouldn't assail me and began wondering about these three pasty Britons. My thought was interrupted by the ringing of a phone. After a confused delay I realized that it was my cell phone vibrating in my pocket. It seemed I had joined a local network and was about to receive an expensive phone call. It was my friend Glenn who was watching my dog and parrot and keeping an eye on my shoppe. I had another friend named Keith who would work for me from time to time and he was caring for my reptiles, amphibians and tarantulas. Glenn was just calling to check in, but now that I knew I had cell reception I started a conversation about where we were going to stay not only that night, but make our first base camp. We were headed in the direction of La Selva Biological Station and I began riffling through my Lonely Planet guide looking for accommodation. I was the only teammate who spoke any Spanish and I did my best using my cell phone to see if anything nearby could provide lodging for three Brits, one American and a sawed-off ice axe. As luck would have it, I found La Quinta Sarapiqui, an excellent eco-lodge and a place that will again be my first base when I return to Costa Rica with my stepfather in early December. We would find this a glorious place to stay and it had a library of field guides and identification posters hanging all around the common area. The breakfast buffet was delicious and I tried to eat my weight in the most amazing pineapple I've ever enjoyed. The grounds were teeming with wildlife. The staff put out fruits at feeding stations and attracted a dazzling menagerie of colorful birds. Emerald basilisks prowled the stream edge and brush surrounding the lodging. I chased many up a tree or under the porch of a cabin. Dart frogs, both green and black Dendrobates auratus and "blue jeans" D. pumilio could be found on the grounds and the wooden walkways over the adjacent ponds revealed caiman. They even had a makeshift butterfly flight. Geckos darted about catching nocturnal flying insects while we played card games, dominos and had our evening cocktails. By sheer luck I had found us nice clean rooms with hot showers, good food and drink and creatures galore. Eventually feeling came back to my right foot.

We worked out of four base camps across the country during our three week stay. From each would we drive to a new target location. One day we saw a green iguana run across the two lane road and then soon saw that it was being chased by a domestic/feral cat. I had whoever was driving slam on the brakes and ran into the road after the iguana. Oncoming traffic appeared in the corner of my eye as I scooped up the wriggling three footer. Once the cars passed we posed for a few photos with the lizard before scooting it in a different direction than the cat had ran off. Later we were working a road with Aphonopelma seemanni burrows and Paul went behind a tree to urinate. He screamed, "Michael! Snake!". After making sure that Paul hadn't begun to pee, I ran behind the tree and pulled up the five foot Central American lyresnake. It had a few ticks that I gently removed, and despite the fact that it was beginning to go into a shed it was remarkably placid. After I had my photo taken with my new friend I took photos of both Paul and Andrew holding it. It wasn't until they were done that I admitted to them that it was a rear-fanged venomous snake and a very large one at that. They were not amused by the timing of my confession at all.

More Tales to come ...

MJ