Field Notes

We returned to Limbe Wildlife Centre anxious to follow-up on things we had seen and learned. As it turns out Limbe is not just a home for orphaned animals, but an important center for learning, and specifically for addressing the bushmeat trade, through education.

First visit was to a class presented by Wilson Ateh, one of the Centre’s award-winning employees. What happened in class was remarkable…Wilson was electrifying, and the students fully engaged and excited about the material. Today’s lecture was on water and water borne disease. Class was launched with a song and dance about the environment — a uniquely African teaching dynamic — then rolled directly into a very participatory lecture with kids eagerly offering up what they had learned. Ateh’s material was current, relevant, and inspirational.

Wilson has helped Limbe establish one of the most successful and comprehensive conservation education programs in Africa, and in so doing has won the International Primate Society’s Charles Southwick Conservation Education Commitment Award. [Sunni Black]

PHOTOS: Wilson Ateh, Four Students
PHOTOGRAPHER: Sunni Black
SOUND RECORDING: Bill Toone

Our walk into the Ebo forest had followed trails lined with poachers’ snares: snares so delicate and effective they beheaded the doves that triggered them. Around other snares the ground was free of vegetation and the forest clay polished smooth…this from long and terrible efforts of a primate or forest antelope struggling for days until someone happened upon them and ended their agony.

While it is upsetting to think about the final, painful, moments of these animals, it is important to realize their suffering is due largely to the clandestine nature of poaching. Illegal hunting requires poachers to be cautious, to patrol their snare lines less frequently…leaving animals to linger in pain.

Beyond the suffering — and most importantly — snares do not distinguish between species.

Endangered species are equally vulnerable.

Deep in Bethan’s study area, we found the forest floor littered with rifle shells. We found nervous elephants and a cautious moment of peace. We never saw Bethan’s study species, the drill…she does not habituate them to people to avoid making them easier targets for the bushmeat trade.

The growing scarcity is such that seven days in the reasearch area, and we heard only one brief scream from chimpanzees and a handful of calls from guenons. A review of Bill’s recordings reveal noises only from those animals too small to eat. The drone of the cicadas rings in my ears.

For biologists such as Bill, Bethan, or myself, the silence of the forest — except for insects — is the sound of death. Silence hits us with the reality of disappearing species. [Sunni Black]

We prepared to hike out of Ebo by a different route. This trek would be longer and would end in the village of Locndeng. An hour before dawn we were soaked in sweat, slogging through the jungle, and hoping we would arrive soon. We didn’t. Not until nearly four in the afternoon. Though perhaps not the best time to appreciate it, it was one of the most beautiful — but rugged — hikes I’ve taken.

Arrival in Locndeng was nothing less than eventful: a sequence of events set in motion as we traveled into Iboti five days earlier was reaching climax. Villagers had located the poachers’ elephant rifle in the forest and brought it to Locndeng to turn it over to the gendarmes. The gendarmes had come to Locndeng: nothing shy of a momentous event. Chiefs and representatives from the community had all arrived and were awaiting Bethan. With our arrival, the ceremony began.

The bolt-action rifle was rusted and battered. Deadly, nonetheless, and after discussion, argument, and sporadic applause, the weapon was passed ceremonially to the gendarmes; and out of the forest.

We left Locndeng feeling hopeful because one poachers’ weapon had been taken out of circulation. There would now be fewer spent shells in the forest…and more animals. Exhausted, but pleased, we piled into the truck and headed for Duoala. It was evening and we faced hours of driving on a logging road through forest. I watched the roadside intently, as usually this is a great way to see wildlife, but not tonight. [Sunni Black]

PHOTOS: Transfer Ceremony, Gendarmes & Research Scientists
PHOTOGRAPHERS: Sunni Black, Unknown

We set off for the savannah, a long but leisurely walk of nearly five hours: stopping to examine fruiting trees; a new species of coffee now being described by the Kew Botanical Gardens; the ever-present driver ants and tiny frogs.

Our final approach to the savannah was stopped short by the discovery of fresh elephant feces. It was a discovery of mixed feelings…three elephants had just been poached. Not knowing how many elephants are in the forest, fresh feces at least indicate they have not been exterminated. On the other hand — I know from experience — you can be standing right next to an African elephant on nearly open savannah and not know it is there. Here in the deep forest we fear we will bump into one before we know it is there, and you don’t ever want to startle a 12,000lb animal. Also, in light of recent poaching, it could be a poor time for an intimate encounter.

Bethan knows elephants well and after a few moments determined that the feces were at least one or two days old. While elephants were clearly in the area, there was a good chance we were not right on top of them. We were probably within about one-hundred yards of the savannah at this point, so we continued to the end of our planned journey. The “savannah” turned out to be more of a steep rocky knoll, but it was open and high, giving us a spectacular view of unbroken forest and mountains as far as we could see. An eagle soared overhead and somewhere far away we heard the brief chatter of primates Bethan identified as chimpanzee. Other than that, the forest sounds were again dominated by cicadas.

Highlight on the return treck to camp was discovery of the hospital bell left behind by German colonists one hundred years ago. [Sunni Black]

PHOTOS: Hospital Bell, Date on Bell, Bowl
PHOTOGRAPHER: Sunni Black

Today was easier, as we spent a couple of hours exploring near camp. We have not had rain, but it is hot and humid. With an almost continuous tree canopy it is like living in a steamy closet…thick air and nowhere a clear view of the sky.

The forest is extremely dense; some areas have been undisturbed for centuries, and other sections have had limited levels of disturbance over the last century. One hundred years earlier there had been a German outpost here: only with Bethan pointing it out to us, could we see areas of raised earth in the outline of roads, walls, and buildings, long ago incorporated into the forest. It was rumored some of Bethan’s staff located an old bell that had apparently hung on whatever passed as a hospital…in an area as remote as this. We searched but failed to locate it.

This was the forest that Bethan had come to in order to study drills, the largest of all monkeys. Though we were not able to see any monkeys, we heard occasional and very distant calls apparently between small groups. Somewhere beyond the curtain of green were families of drills, gorilla, chimpanzee, forest elephants, and much more….today though, the forest was mostly quiet with the exception of the incessant cicadas. We experimented with our field recorder then headed back into camp to prepare for a more adventurous day tomorrow. [Sunni Black]

PHOTOS: Cicada
PHOTOGRAPHER: Sunni Black
SOUND RECORDING: Bill Toone

Today I learned the phrase “as the crow flies” has no meaning, unless you are a crow. No walk on this trip was more than 10 miles long per day: that is…as a crow flies. Nevertheless, today’s “short walk” would go on until nearly 4 PM when, dripping in sweat and shaking with fatigue, we climbed the last hill and found Bethan’s research camp.

Bethan knew the trail well (she should) and periodically said something like “…only 3 km as the crow flies from here.” On and on in a constant countdown designed to bring us comfort and to let us know that we were actually making progress. We pushed through vines, clambored over rocks, struggled through ravines and waded creeks. Nature took her due. We were tired, bug bitten, and Bill’s muscles were cramping. Ten miles required more than 10 hours of struggle.

That night our new friends in camp brought us two buckets of warm water and a board to stand on. We stripped and poured refreshing warm water through our hair and over our tired dirty bodies, then changed into fresh dry clothes and wandered up to the camp kitchen for dinner. Pasta on an open fire…Bill complained about the absence of beer (imagine that)…and we relaxed at a plywood table on benches made from the rachis of raffia palm. All in all, very homey and cozy. Camp was simple, but with a kitchen, a tent, and a gated pit toilet to assure privacy, it seemed like heaven.

The pit toilet felt particularly safe: seems the area is patrolled by driver ants. Early morning or evening visits often require you step over a thick line of teeming ants. A misstep could be a problem…close examination of the line revealed individual soldiers, mandibles spread wide, guarding the less well-armed workers. We always showed them the greatest respect. During the day driver ants occasionally fan out in hunting formation, attacking and killing any living creature unable to get out of their path. We experienced this frequently in the forest…often forcing us to sprint through extended areas of hunting ants. [Sunni Black]

PHOTOS: Camp Kitchen, Driver Ant Soldiers, Line of Driver Ants
PHOTOGRAPHER: Sunni Black

The night was cool. At first light we packed. Shortly before 6 AM the porters came and bound our supplies to their home-made backpacks and by 7 AM we were walking through Iboti and looking toward the mountainous mist shrouded rain forest that lay ahead. Everyone in Iboti was up. Based on his experiences in Madagascar, Bill decided to do the hike in a pair of flip-flops. Though the Banen frequently walk in the forest in sandals, everyone in the village pointed them out and expressed well-meaning concern.

The first part of our walk took us through the farms of Iboti and after that about an hour of very scrubby secondary forest (important because it required walking in the hot sun) we started to leave significant signs of people behind us. Once the farms fell behind us, Bethan began pointing out snares set all along the pathways. Each snare is comprised of a thin sapling cut off about 6-7 feet above the ground. The wire for the snare is fastened on top of the remaining stem and then the tree is arched over towards the ground. The other end of the wire is fastened into a noose and everything held in place with a delicate trigger mechanism. Once we knew what to look for, it was easy to spot a tree that was arched over in an unnatural position. These snares are amazingly common and terribly effective. As a condition of permission to be in the forest, Bethan must leave the snares in place until she is within about one mile (2 km) of her camp. Anything within that perimeter is open for removal so Bethan and her team do their best to keep the area sanitized.

Our porters hiked ahead of us with our gear and we tried to keep pace. We never stopped for lunch, but paused to drink water, eat a handful of trail mix, and continue into the forest. We stopped for about ten minutes at the halfway point in our trek: there was a primitive hunters camp at this point and we looked around and talked to Bethan about the bushmeat trade. Snares are checked infrequently; usually only once or twice a week. The snares are set in two ways. One is designed to snare an animal as they walk through it, the other to snare a leg as they walk over it. When the hunters do come through and collect animals from the snares they are brought back to this temporary camp for butchering…their meat smoked and packed to be carried out to market.

Mulling this over we pressed on, up and down hills, through ravines and across streams and creeks, over rocks and roots and moss-covered stumps and branches, deeper into the forest. It was hot and extremely humid, although by mid-afternoon we were deep in forest and walking in the shade. The trees were too dense to see far but we could occasionally hear the whooshing wingbeats of large hornbills and the distinctive call of the giant plantain-eater. [Sunni Black]

PHOTOS: Cane Rat in Snare, Butchering Camp, Shotgun Shells
PHOTOGRAPHER: Sunni Black

It should be noted here that the forests have ears and eyes. The activities of anyone in the forest are quickly known. If one is not directly observed, people are very good at reading signs in the forest and piecing together the picture of what happened and who did it.

While to our eyes the Gendarmes are generally harmless and more interested in a small bribe or whiskey, the people in the villages fear them greatly. Their only interaction with Gendarmes is when they burst into a village in the dark of night and take them away. Though guns are illegal, along with hunting for bushmeat, many people in the villages have guns and are hunters. The known presence of an elephant gun in the area would not be good for any of them.

The people whose land Bethan works on are Banen or Bakosi Tribe. The Bakosi clan that controls the area near the elephant gun are called Ndokbiakat. One hundred years ago the Ndokbiakat lived deep in the Ebo Forest — here the Germans brought religion and some education. The Ndokbiakat now live on the perimeters of the Ebo Forest; one clan divided into four villages each with its own chief. After some discussion, the chiefs agreed to send a team into the forest to bring out the gun and turn it over to the officials. After a long and tangled process the gun ended up in the village of Locndeng; the village we would arrive in when we left the forest at the end of  our trip.

Now for the complicated part. The gun has to get to the Gendarmes or some other version of law enforcement. It is illegal to have the gun and dangerous to drive with it in the car in case one is stopped at a frequent roadside check. The local Gendarmes do not have a vehicle and therefore would need to be paid to go to the village to get the gun. What is more, who will get credit for retrieving the gun? Will the Gendarmes be pleased or not? I can’t help but assume there is an angry poacher (maybe more than one) out there that somehow seems excluded from this equation. All we know tonight is that the gun is in Locndeng, the Gendarmes know it, and we have to get up early tomorrow to start walking. [Sunni Black]

I think many people are not aware that there are actually three species of elephants. Most of us know of the African (savannah) elephant (Loxodonata Africana) who is clearly distinguished from its equally well known relative the Asian elephant (Elephas Maximus) by its greater size and ears in the shape of the African continent.

Much or our discussions en route to Iboti, both with the village chiefs and with the Gendarmes were about a third species of elephant, the forest elephant (Loxodonta Cyclotis). This rarely seen and largely unknown elephant lives in the equatorial forests of western Africa. It is actually more numerous than the savannah elephant we are all most familiar with. The forest elephant is smaller (up to five feet shorter) than the savannah elephant, with rounded ears and straight, thin pinkish-hued tusks. Pinkish hued tusks, and the fact that more attention has been focused on the other elephant species, has left the forest elephant highly vulnerable to poaching. This is where they enter our story.

Shortly before our arrival in Cameroon, three elephants were killed in the Ebo Forest. [EDITOR'S NOTE: See photo below of molar recovered from one of the elephants.] When Bethan learned of this, she was very concerned. It meant that there was a very large gun in the forest, potentially some very dangerous people, and therefore increased risk to herself and to the animals she is studying. [Sunni Black]

PHOTO: Elephant Molar
PHOTOGRAPHER: Sunni Black