Tropical Natural Moment

I walked down the trail deeper and deeper into the rainforest, sunlight filtering through the dense canopy creating a kaleidoscope of light spots and shadows. I knew this rainforest well, having worked as a researcher there for over half a decade. This tangled jungle never stopped surprising me. I walked this trail probably a thousand times since I first arrived at the research station, and every time, without exception, I saw something I had never seen before. An insect, a plant, an interaction between an animal and its prey or host plant. The stories have been endless, and the fascination is ever-growing. I walked off the muddy trail into the forest, only a few dozen steps, following a hunch. I had seen a patch of Heliconia plants a few days ago, their broad leaves looking like small versions of banana leaves. One of the leaves on one plant was collapsed, its central vein damaged by a creature that every visitor to the rainforest longs to see. Today, I approached silently, slowly so as not to disturb the treasure hidden by the folded leaf.

There was no movement within, and not even a gentle breeze stirred the leaves. The heat was palpable, and sweat sat there, soaking my clothes, not evaporating in the 100% humidity. I kneeled near the base of the plant and took a peek under the folded leaf. Small movements. They were there, slightly disturbed by my sudden appearance in their field of view. I could actually see their silhouette through the leaves. I retreated a couple of steps. Then, I laid on my back on the wet leaf litter, camera in hand, and scooted slowly, inches at a time, until my head was right under the leaf tent. I looked through my viewfinder and saw the creatures, a cluster of Ecuadorian white bats, Ectophylla alba, resting under their leaf tent that they made themselves, waiting for nighttime to fly off into the forest to forage for ripe fruit.

They were tiny, smaller than a golf ball when cuddled with each other; five of them, tightly clustered. One was smaller and grayish, a juvenile, probably still nursing. Under the natural light filtered through the leaf surface, they looked like green bumps on the plant, their fluffy white coats reflecting the filtered light in a stunning camouflage case. With the aid of a small light, I snapped a couple of photos, and their whiteness became evident. I retreated slowly from under their shelter, careful not to disturb them, exhilarated by the moment. I looked forward to studying the images on my computer showing the exquisite detail of their anatomy. One of the 70 species of bats that live in this rainforest, the white bats hold a special place in my heart. They feed on wild figs and other small fruits, spreading their seeds through the forest.

Encounters like this make my work as a biologist, photographer, and storyteller an exciting personal activity, one that complements my professional work leading non-profit organizations with my lifelong love for nature and wildlife. The survival and future of species like the Ecuadorian white bats and the tens of thousands of species that populate the remaining rainforests of the world depend on our knowledge, appreciation, and commitment to their protection. All of these species play unique and vital roles in the stability of tropical ecosystems. People, including us that don't live in the tropics, depend on the health of all ecosystems for our own sustainable development. By learning more about the world's biodiversity, we can become better stewards of nature and wildlife. My passion for conservation is fueled by the knowledge that everyone can play a role, no matter how small, to save the precious, unreplaceable, and extraordinary life on this unique blue planet.