This is DAY 2 of the Yucatan Diaries.

Nothing like an early morning to make one feel like a true ornithologist. The students stumbled down to the van early yesterday morning, clutching their binoculars and bird books, loaded into our van, and away we went. This time we headed north, and drove past tiny villages, open air meat markets, huge abandoned haciendas (overgrown with weeping crusts of bromeliads and mossy stones), tiny pedi-cabs bearing passengers of all descriptions, and of course banana trees, mango trees, naranja (sour orange), coconuts, star-fruits, and sisal plants. When we finally arrived at the flat land bearing vast acres of red mangroves, we admired the buttress roots thickly covering the muddy flats, often right next to their skeletal finger-like air roots. Then without warning we were on a large bridge crossing to a peninsula, and our destination, Celestun. We parked in a hot dusty lot by a little dock, and were immediately met by a wave of stray dogs and a litter of 8 puppies! One of each color ever seen on a dog. Their long-suffering mother tried to make her way toward us while several of the puppies frantically nursed, as she walked stilt-like with her heavy dragging burden. These larval dogs were extremely cute, and looked in relatively good condition, rolling and tumbling at our feet. It was hard to leave them to board our little skiffs, but somehow we managed, and the hot breeze felt wonderful in our faces. A gorgeous hot sunny day, on dead calm estuary water. The park guides took as straight up the inlet, until we could suddenly see a line of what looked like pink crayon on the horizon, bright against the rich green of the mangroves. Flamingoes! we screamed, and excitedly grabbed our binoculars. Thousands of stick-like birds dipped and high-stepped delicately through the milky water, looking exactly like anorexic ballerinas en pointe. Their croaking, rasping cry was a terrible but wonderful contrast.
We spent time drifting near the colony, totally fascinated by the large pink birds, but finally left to study the other birds of the mangrove swamp, such as the tiger heron baby we saw in a "nest" by a freshwater spring. (The nest of a tiger heron is evidently a sketchy affair, and looks much like the parent birds were either drunk or in a hurry when they put it together!) A miniscule pygmy kingfisher dashed in front of us, while ibis, rail, and night-herons stalked in the undergrowth, staring at us as we stared at them.
When we left for lunch on the Gulf of Mexico, we were reluctant to leave this fascinating community, but ravenous enough to jump in the van...
The bright white sand in front of our beach-front restaurant was filled with mollusk shells and other fascinating marine biology flotsam and jetsam. We divided our time between swimming, eating shrimp, and collecting marine specimens. Our lovely hotel was just a few blocks down, so we continued this behavior all afternoon, and met in the evening for a taxonomy session. A quiet night for a change, but up at 6 AM for a long walk on the beach, where we thrilled to the sight of magnificent frigate birds, black skimmers, Caspian terns, laughing gulls, and willets. We found several live upturned starfish, and watched their bright red tube feet waving in a hopeless gesture. (Feeling sorry for the hapless echinoderms, we tossed them back out of reach of the tide - very un-survival of the fittest but still somehow fitting). Also admired a huge dead tarpon, and photographed the funny looking skimmers. These birds look like they have a "greaser" hairdo, with black spiky bits slicked back from their long roman noses, with an undershot mandible projecting forward like and orthodontist´s worst nightmare. Of course the skimmer used this lower bill to streak through the upper surfaces of the ocean, flipping hapless unwary fish into a long snapping mouth.
Now we have arrived at the field station, after an exciting afternoon exploring one of the largest caves in North America. The cave was in the middle of a desolate area in the Puuc hills, very unremarkable looking on the outside. And we were almost all by ourselves; I suspect that very few tourists have visited this incredible cave system ("Loltun"). Our first surprise was being greeted by a large vampire bat lying stunned near the entrance, after apparently having just hit a live electrical wire overhead. This wrinkled little creature grimaced at us, his razor sharp teeth forming a pointy grin. Wings of ashy, paper-like skin quivered in the hands of our guide, and tiny beaded eyes peered at us from thick brown fur. The claw-like hands and feet clutched at the air until he was lowered back the ground, and he scuttled awkwardly away. The guide thought he might die from the voltage that zapped his tiny brain, but I am hopeful.
Once we had entered the enormous cathedral-like cave (walking almost 2 km through one magnificent chamber after another), we were excited to have an entire colony of bats pointed out to us, shuffling above us and glancing nervously down. I think it would be fair to say some of the students were glancing nervously upward! But the bats were quickly overshadowed by the wondrous stalactites and stalagmites, as well as some really ancient pictographs and hand prints. Eventually, we were sorry to leave the cool damp air for the bright hot sun of the upper world, but consoled ourselves with a delicious Mayan meal across the street. Now we have settled into our hammocks in the jungle, and all are exhausted but happy. Tomorrow? The hunt for the mot mot…
The Mot Mot Quest,,,

The field station is always a big surprise to the students. One minute we are in a dusty
tiny town, (Xul) with thatched huts, decaying shrines, and pigs runny freely in the streets
and parks, and the next we have turned off the road into the junge. The "jungle" is
actually a tropical deciduous forest, filled with birds, vines, orchids, and bromeliads. A thick
carpet of crunchy brown leaves covers the forest floor. Reddish trunks of the ´naked indian´ trees snake through the green brushy acacias, looking like sunburned thighs and arms. Their translucent bark peels and curls from their surface. Strangulating fig trees throttle the trunks of helpless ceiba and chicle trees, long roots dripping from their supports like hardening syrup. We are surrounded by peeps, chirps, whistles, cries, groans, croaks, and shrieks. The laughing falcon (its name) sheds its eerie call across the valley; the melodious blackbird lets loose with its lovely gurgling duet; and the chachalaca says its own name again and again. White fronted parrots scream and cackle in the canopy, as masked tityras let loose their comical low-pitched buzz / beep. The students had a good laugh when I tried to imitate that one. Miguel, our expert guide, actually calls the birds to him with a variety of uncannily realistic imitations.
The students have been warned to keep out of the forest itself - everything from poisonous trees and angry ants to scorpions and venomous snakes await. "Stay on the path" is our class motto! But plenty of sites and sights to see from the long winding limestone path through Kiuic.
We took a long hike through the forest this morning, and the students amazed me with
their concentration and skill as bird watchers. Never a complaint or dragging feet, despite
the early hour and lack of breakfast (and sleep!) They all tackled the hammocks last night with great gusto, but it is an acquired taste, and I suspect that few had more than two or three hours of sleep! Everyone agreed that the hammocks are very comfortable, but when you are used to sleeping on your side, it takes a little bit of skill to get the hang of it. (Get it?) One student even felt a little seasick, thanks to all that swaying. Personally, I just expect not to sleep at all the first night, and am pleasantly surprised when I get a little rest. Fortunately, the weather cooperated, and although it is HOT today, it was temperate and humid last night. I feel like every single thing in my suitcase is damp, and all my paper is floppy.
Back to my story. We were rewarded for our long trek through the jungle by a faint
chorus of "mot" , "mot", "mot" as we approached their nesting cliffs. Suddenly, a stream
of graceful blue-black birds darted across the road; several perching high above us in the
skeletal acacia trees. The turquoise-browed mot mot has a supercilious look, thanks to its
electric blue eyebrows, always appearing to lift in surprise at your shockingly
bad manners for disturbing it. This is furthered by its odd behavior of facing away from
you, with its long and spectacular racquet-shaped tail "wagging" exactly like a strange
avian metronome. First it flips deliberately to the left, and then to the right. Then again. As if daring you to take a step out of turn… Their faint croaking calls seem to be coming from a bird far behind them - a much smaller bird!
Also, we had a huge thrill on top of the soaring forest canopy observation tower and blind. Although I am a little afraid of heights, the students had few such qualms, and several raced up the open stairway to the very top, where a small wooden platform with a little thatched roof and a wooden railing sways gently, far above the forest floor. I had to really study the situation, before I was sure I would do this scary thing. But I could hardly let all of the students shame me into not going up! Eventually I swallowed hard and kept my eyes glued on the mahogany steps, never daring to look down. Of course it is completely safe and beautifully constructed, but it just isn´t easy when you are a bit nervous. Fortunately, I made it to the top and THEN the thrill - a beautiful toucan delighted us be perching near the blind, his scarlet rump turned towards us. At first he faced away, and the students could not see his beak… until a collective gasp as the gigantic blue-black bill was sighted (has a little yellow zig zag pattern on it too!). The collared aracari is a smallish toucan that loves to feed on the wild papaya of the area, and was taking a break up in the tree tops.
Tomorrow - on to the howler monkey colony at Punta Laguna!

Back to the Jungle…

After a reluctant goodbye to our time spent at Kaxil Kiuic, we bumped our rolling luggage incongruously across the limestone pebbles and steep paths to the waiting van. A pair of mot mots suddenly appeared beside us, turquoise eyebrows raised in surprise at our decision to leave. The papery baby-blue feathers above each eye were literally standing on end as they stared down at us. Adios…
Then we drove north, then west, then south, then north, traversing a good portion of the Yucatan peninsula all in one day. Ms. Wienert, Ms. Willis, and Ms. Pruitt gave their "van reports", entertaining us with stories of the discovery of Quintana Roo by the Spanish, the conquest of the Maya, the Caste Wars, the exportation of sisal, and the geology and geography of the peninsula. Miguel took his turn with the microphone too, sharing with us his personal stories of the development of the "Riviera Maya" and the ecological damage that has been done here. Great good has also been done, with individuals such as those who stepped up to try and save the last remaining primate colony in the Yucatan. A single man made a decision to attempt to protect them, but it is still a struggle for a variety of reasons. Even the hurricanes that hammer this coast are a big problem for them, especially because of the loss of many mangroves and taller trees due to development.
The preserve is called Punta Laguna, after the small lagoon in this patch of forest (a rarity in the Yucatan). A few local Maya people guard them and keep the forest paths clear. This is REAL rain forest, thanks to the higher rainfall seen on the coast, and the lagoon itself. Miguel led us down a tiny path through the vines and trees, and it wasn´t long before he stopped and raised his binoculars. Like a well-trained chorus, the students synchronously skidded to a halt, silently raised their own binoculars, and soon found the same spot high up in a fig tree. (I was so proud!). Not a sound was made - quite a feat with a large group of articulate young ladies. Sure enough, after a moment we all saw an arm and then a long tail, curving sinuously in a beckoning motion. Pretty soon a wizened dark face was peering at us through the dense branches, with a serious expression and a leaf in her hand. Then a second Aeteles geoffrei appeared - the black-handed spider monkey - and we could see that the new one was much younger, probably her baby. The Mexican black howler monkey also lives in this forest but we saw no sign of them, but were instead treated to another rare sighting of three more spider monkeys. The few visitors that come to this reserve are not usually so lucky; this is my third visit and this is the first time I have seen the spider monkey. Full of excitement, we made our way through the sudden fall of dusk that is so remarkable in the tropics, and found our way back to the trusty van. As we approached, we could see the stars overhead as never visible from Atlanta - a rich carpet of light and pattern that is hard to make sense of. There are so many stars that it is extremely difficult to find any constellation, buried amongst the billions of suns from other systems.
Arriving on the coast in the darkness, it was a relief to get up this morning and see the sun shining brightly on a beach encrusted with sea grass and Sargassum. Unfortunately, the wind was creating a chop on the azure waters - an unearthly turquoise - and so the visibility was very poor. Rats. I can control a lot of things, but not the weather. Our resourceful friend and guide Miguel saved the day by suggesting a snorkeling warm-up in the calm protected waters of a nearby cenote. This was an underground cavern with a partially open roof, and crystal clear water almost 70 feet deep. It is home to the blind cavefish that inhabit these underground systems, and most of the students got to see one. The navy blue water was cool and inviting after our mountain bike ride and zip line tour through the rainforest canopy. Did I say zip line? Oh yes. We all got to ride a stainless steel cable through the tree tops, giving the students a bird´s eye view. Hopefully all of the bird watching we have done has given them an interest in what it must be like to BE a bird, skimming the tree tops at high speed, looking down at the earth below. Of course this involved a number of towers, harnesses, ascents, and nerves of steel. Mine deserted me by the time I got to the third storey on the first tower, and from then on the poor Mayan guide had to cajole me up using friendly but incomprehensible words that probably included cowardo, nino, ninny, pollo, chickeno, etc. Mi esposo, Stewarto, also joined in the chorus, and between the two of them I finally crept up the heavy chicle steps, one at a time, keeping my eyes firmly fixed on the step in front. Ms. Johnson (a fellow sensible ground-lover) even beat me up this tower, and casually lounged around on the top of this enormous high thing while I peeped over the hole in the platform. Our first jumper, Ms Grasseschi, threw caution to the wind and with an Indian yell swooped through the forest. Landing delicately on the far tree, she made it look so easy. When I went, I misjudged my approach and practically bounced of the huge chicle trunk that was our first landing perch. Good thing the guide sacrificed himself. Anyways, everybody enjoyed it, and all were extremely brave except me, and I think that the students have a new appreciation for the life of a bird.
Hopefully tomorrow will bring some nicer weather for snorkeling as we head to the ex-pirate island of Cozumel…

- Louise Bauck BSc, DVM, MVSc.
On the Reef

With great enthusiasm the students greeted a beautiful dawn in Puerto Morelos, a sleepy little fishing town that sits on the edge of a national marine park. This is also the site of the last remaining stand of mangrove forest on this part of the coast. A paradise for our budding biologists, full of invertebrates, fish, birds, and other surprises. I am glad to report that the howling winds finally died down after a huge monsoon-like downpour last night. Unfortunately officials had to close the port of Cozumel this morning as the winds had shifted to blow directly at them for a change, so our ferry ride was cancelled. Not to worry, it was lovely over here so we got to snorkel in the marine reserve after piling into a special park tour boat. Masks and snorkels were donned, and we set off into the pastel turquoise water looking for adventure. We found it. Spectacular underwater forests of soft corals waved gently in an unseen underwater breeze, contrasting nicely with zipping fish and the stolid immobility of the hard staghorn, boulder, brain and lettuce corals. The water was crystal clear, warm, and inviting, so Ms. Weinert and Ms Mercer-Bourne joined me in the water and we quickly found the rest of our school of students. Almost immediately, we saw our guide pick up a large yellow stingray, handling it carefully and gently. He placed the lovely and well-armed fish on my open hand, its slippery white undersurface caressing my palm for a moment before it placidly undulated off into the seagrass beds. Next we spotted the four-eyed butterfly fish, which is not a fish wearing glasses, but a species of butterfly with a realistic eye depicted on each flank. The false eyes even have a tiny white spot for a "highlight" and thus there are four eyes, two fake and two real. The real eyes are cleverly camouflaged with a black stripe, and the entire fish is dressed in a beautiful grey and yellow suit. I hated to leave them, but the current pulled us gently across the kaleidoscope sights below us, teasing you with glimpses of unearthly beauty and tiny bright lives of color. A dignified-looking trumpet-fish eyed Ms. Salyers and myself as we watched its long striped body hover over the sandy bottom, wondering at its strange shape and form. In the distance a spotted eagle-ray as large as a person "flew" by, while underneath us flamingo-tongues grazed mercilessly on sea fans and plume coral. I watched a female stoplight parrotfish take a big chunk of the reef, crunching it so noisily with her hard beak that I could hear it underwater! A large barracuda appeared behind a coral outcrop, and stared at us with empty eyes. The missile-shaped body could have been covered with aluminum foil, and several dark marks like thumbprints marked its side. Huge schools of chocolate-colored surgeon fish contrasted with the glittering French grunts. Tiny electric blue chromis dueled with the butter-yellow threespot damsel for brilliance. We swam on and on, with no end to the wonders of the reef.
Finally the happy but exhausted students climbed out onto the boat. They were all so successful, even Ms. Willis, who had a big wave crash into her snorkel and sweep it away. Never one to complain, she just swam on until too tired to go on. I think she must have swallowed about a gallon of seawater! Afterwards we had a wonderful Yucatecan lunch to revive us.
Later in the day we climbed back into the Brenau van, and Miguel took us to Yaax Che, a botanical garden and reserve nearby. We had the thrill of a lifetime - more primates! Although the only large troop of black-handed spider monkeys lives at Punta Laguna, a few survived Hurricane Wilma right here in Puerto Morelos. 14 to be exact. There are more now, and we were lucky enough to see a family group at the botanical garden. Few tourists have seen them. But there they were - tiny newborns with their mothers, disdainful males, and daredevil juveniles entertained us for more than an hour, very close and personal. One sinuous male swung so brilliantly from one tree to another that I actually started to applaud until I remembered this was not exactly Cirque du Soleil… We watched a mother make a bridge for her lagging baby by holding a branch tip with her prehensile tail and stretching out to the next tree with her long hands. We chatted with a park naturalist and she told us that they had just buried the body of a pregnant female, killed by a jaguarundi (think of a large and scary house cat with a face like a dog). The troop male and several females approached during this task, coming closer than they ever had, and remained in attendance during the entire burial. We were all utterly fascinated by their antics, and hated to leave them.
Speaking of hating to leave, I know that we will soon be heading home. I will post a few favourite photos shortly so that you can share our adventures…

- Louise Bauck BSc, DVM, MVSc.
I hope you have all enjoyed sharing our journey. If you would like to see a few photos, please go to this web site and enjoy!

http://www.flickr.com/photos/11112410@N00/