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P A G E 2
D E C E M B E R 2 0 1 4
V O L . 3 , N O . 3
In the Heat of the Moment
Continued
continue our search about 1.5 km downhill for another hour or so, hiking along the
margins of a wide river (the natural divide between the park and bare areas patchily
occupied by human settlements) until we came across a fairly pristine location to set up
camp. Our tents were scattered between rocks and thorny vines, close to a lively stream
with small waterfalls flowing into a pond of sorts. A brief traditional speech was made by a
local resident and small amounts of honey and tokagasy (the locally-made rum) were
offered to the ancestors to respectfully request permission to camp and conduct our
surveys.
Early expeditions by Safford et al (1988) and Goodman et al (2000) revealed that the far
west side is somewhat drier than the east in part due to a rain shadow as the highest
areas of massif are on the east side. Villagers on the west side are acutely aware of this
and are not able to grow much vanilla but grow coffee and other crops more suited to a
slightly drier landscape. In fact, many migrate each year to the east side to grow vanilla.
During our prospections of the area, led by member of the local village park guards
(CLP’s), we discovered that the open areas identified as such from satellite images were
partly secondary growth forest areas previously cleared to grow coffee, vanilla, fruit trees
and rice. We also discovered why it was so easy to navigate this forest. As it turned out,
we were using trails previously cut by illegal loggers, who had removed and transported
precious woods out of the park in the times following the “coup d’état” in 2009.
Despite these discouraging signs of habitat disturbance, we combined our efforts and
organized several night walks and trapping sessions. Traps were set near fruiting/
flowering trees between 4-15 m high and baited with large pieces of smelly bananas (in
order to make sure we had enough provisions, we crossed the river on Sundays to visit the
small village of Anketsahely, just outside of the Park, to purchase ripe bananas, coconuts
and an occasional chicken). During the nights, we would record the location of dwarf
lemurs and during the day we would relocate traps in proximity to those sightings. In the
end, our trapping efforts resulted in the worst-ever record of my fieldwork history, only 1
capture over 399 trapping opportunities. Despite these challenges, we were able to
confidently report that: 1)
C. medius
, the fat-tailed dwarf lemur is not present in this
forest; 2)
C. crossleyi
was the species captured and observed during our night walks; 3)
Crossley’s dwarf lemurs occupied a variety of areas, including more pristine forest as well
as disturbed areas and secondary growth forest in proximity to forest edge.
During one of our last nights in the field, as I was trying to sleep on top of my sleeping
bag and wishing I had a tent with a better ventilation system, I thought of how difficult it
may be to hibernate in a place like this. Sure, it was not winter and temperatures were not
necessarily representative of those characteristic of the hibernation season, but I had
gathered from the local assistants that this area was fairly warm year round. If energy
savings are dependent upon decreasing metabolic rates by means of reducing body
temperature (which approximates the immediate environment during hibernation), would
it be worth remaining inactive for a large part of the year, as opposed to extending the
reproductive season, provided food was still available? There is so much we just don’t
know about hibernation in the eastern lowlands. I realized that I was replacing my
obsession of finding fat-tails for that of studying hibernation in these truly tropical forests
(I have dedicated my hibernation work to dwarf lemurs inhabiting montane and high-
altitude habitats thus far). In other words, will dwarf lemurs from the lowland rainforests
of Marojejy unlock some of the remaining mysteries of tropical hibernation? We hope to
eventually find out.