23 Jan 2004
We came across a Reticulated Python on trail Tawk this evening; big around as my thigh. 4-5m length. “Large adults can be dangerous to humans” reads the snake guide. I wanted to see one before I left and now I have. Nice. Need I say more?
28 Jan 2004
I am typing my last entry from Thailand at home this afternoon. Home. How many places will become “home” to me; will I ever own on actual permanent home? As I write I’m listening to a group of workers jab and talk. I’m going to miss hearing the language, the inflection, the simple foreignness of it to me. Will it feel odd to sit in a restaurant and understand every passing conversation when I return to America? I told myself I will not feel guilty for taking the time to explore now while I am flexible. (Yet, a little voice asks, just how long is it reasonable for that “exploration” to go on? How long before you are no longer really exploring, but instead are avoiding decisions / challenges / responsibility?)
My biggest regret this year is that I did not learn Thai. I made some effort and know the characters (but not the tone rules for reading) and some basic sentences, key vocabulary. I could have studied harder, daily. I am embarrassed by my lack of effort and understanding despite having the time to learn and plenty of resources (books and Wichian, my private forest tutor). I just never developed a kept routine. I always told myself that if I was put into an environment where I had to learn a language I could do it. In fact, I am considering graduate school programs where I would spend time studying in South America and be required to learn Spanish – my thoughts being that maybe I would finally pull together all of the bits of Spanish I struggled so much with in high school and college….Now I realize (or perhaps have resigned myself to the idea) that me becoming multi-lingual is something I may never achieve.
Yesterday was my last day working in the forest. As I sat finishing a full day with PB I realized that I was focused all day, drawing and learning individuals, discussing with Lek where new trails should be cut, which trails should be measured next. These last days I am working as if I am not leaving, but I guess what else would I do? There is a feeling of disappointment of leaving the project “unfinished,” just as we are ready to “name” the PB individuals and expand the scope of the data collection. Andreas and Carola have been preparing plans for the upcoming workshop and next month’s schedule – things I won’t be participating in, and I couldn’t help feeling a bit left out.
Working in Thailand a year has been demanding, yes, and the introduction to a new culture stressful at times, but overall I had no deadlines, only my own expectations to meet. I had time to think and time to sleep. How have I changed after living in Thailand for a year (Thailand, Kate!)? Practically speaking, I think I have gained more confidence to deal with future unknowns. Recently I spent a week in Bangkok by myself, rode the bus, and hitch-hiked home – all alone. I just did what I had to do to communicate. Skill wise, I have skills of identifying individual animals and recording activity budget. I am comfortable with a machete. I can start a generator. I drive a motorbike. I enjoy driving a motorbike. Probably one of the most unexpected events of my Thailand stay though has been the joy I found in teaching English. At first I was dragged in by guilt about helping Eileen, but now I find myself engaged in thinking and planning new lessons. The kids draw energy from me that I didn’t know I possessed...
“Be serious: Long Day. Be happy: Short Day.” - Khun Wichian
It rained for a substantial amount of time last night, but it wasn’t until I rolled out of bed at 4:20AM that I felt the change. I could feel the humidity in the air as a soft moist thick blanket surrounding me. Today was the first day in over two months that I did not wear my fleece in the morning on the motorbike. I was reminded what it is like to search for langurs when the forest feels tropical, wet. Immediately, I was soaked with a combination of sweat and wetness from brushing up against foliage. My glasses fogged over. Yet, it turned into a day for napping – a breeze rustling the leaves, patches of sunlight, blue sky. Trees cracking, creaking in the wind. Ticks crawling up my back, in my hair, resting in a fine powdery dirt of the salt lick, the smell of elephant. Today we had a “short” day.
It hit me today how far we have come, what we have accomplished – from sitting 50m away from a flash of a langur group, a sole tail visible for hours, to observing infant langurs coming to the ground 20m away! I had a beautiful afternoon shift with Lek and PS toady. Gibbon calls and the hollow clang of large bamboo rattling in the background. My last day with my favorite focal group. They went to the TW/TX salt lick. I have never had the chance to see them there before. It was pure chance that they went today. I got lucky. For three hours they climbed down to eat dirt and I counted the entire group, all nine, resting in the same low tree above the salt lick. It was beautiful seeing the faces, which I now know as individuals, so close, unafraid, accepting. It was a moment where you say to yourself: wow, this is what make all our work, all the long boring tick and leech filled days, worth it. The perfect send off.
It hit me today how far we have come, what we have accomplished – from sitting 50m away from a flash of a langur group, a sole tail visible for hours, to observing infant langurs coming to the ground 20m away! I had a beautiful afternoon shift with Lek and PS toady. Gibbon calls and the hollow clang of large bamboo rattling in the background. My last day with my favorite focal group. They went to the TW/TX salt lick. I have never had the chance to see them there before. It was pure chance that they went today. I got lucky. For three hours they climbed down to eat dirt and I counted the entire group, all nine, resting in the same low tree above the salt lick. It was beautiful seeing the faces, which I now know as individuals, so close, unafraid, accepting. It was a moment where you say to yourself: wow, this is what make all our work, all the long boring tick and leech filled days, worth it. The perfect send off.
Where is PS?
“Don’t bother coming home if you don’t find them,” Guillaume’s parting words to Wichian and I as we set off to search for langur group PS. We haven’t located the group for three full days now. We had a beautiful breezy afternoon for searching, but it still gets tiring walking trail after trail after trail. I was a walking zombie in the morning. For the first hours or so as we waited for the sunrise and slowly (painfully slow) walked in search of PS, my eyes fluttered shut at every stopping point. Heavy. I couldn’t manage to jolt myself awake. Eventually at 7:30 at trail Tcat 350m we heard two adult males double barking at each other: one about 150m to the NE and one about 120m to the SW. Now, at least we had a target area. But, despite walking around all morning, for six hours, still no PS. Wichian turned to me multiple times throughout the day, “Kate, I think we’re sleeping in the forest tonight!”
10 Jan 04
On another note, out of the blue, just this month, group PB large has become a good group. Prior to December I had only encountered the group maybe twice for a substantial chunk of time – a handful of encounters among all of us. Semi-habituated group of about 19 individuals (nine adult females, one adult male, one juvenile male, six infant II’s, and two infant I’s (meaning they are still orange in color)). I’ve spent a couple of days this month following them all day at a range similar to habituated groups (< 30m). At times we were directly below them chatting and they didn’t seem bothered. Only when we generated loud crashes walking through leaves did they peer cautiously and take notice. No sneaking away on their part, only occasional whup, whup warning hoots if they were disturbed by us focusing the binoculars on them for too long. Unfortunately, throughout the day today, one-tone, grey light offered poor clarity for attempts at drawing/identifying individuals. I appreciated the experience of the unique sound of falling seedpods from a feeding langur group. I know it in my sleep. I know I’d better wake up and follow the moving group if I cease to hear it.
I can’t believe that I will be going home so soon (I leave on Feb. 2)! Some part of me is hoping the month will pass quickly because I am anxious to get home and see my family and friends, yet I know I will miss Phu Kheio terribly. It is difficult to imagine that I may never see Wichian or Lek again (the rangers I work with daily). What I really need is a month at home and then to return to Thailand. Very mixed emotions.
10 Jan 04
On another note, out of the blue, just this month, group PB large has become a good group. Prior to December I had only encountered the group maybe twice for a substantial chunk of time – a handful of encounters among all of us. Semi-habituated group of about 19 individuals (nine adult females, one adult male, one juvenile male, six infant II’s, and two infant I’s (meaning they are still orange in color)). I’ve spent a couple of days this month following them all day at a range similar to habituated groups (< 30m). At times we were directly below them chatting and they didn’t seem bothered. Only when we generated loud crashes walking through leaves did they peer cautiously and take notice. No sneaking away on their part, only occasional whup, whup warning hoots if they were disturbed by us focusing the binoculars on them for too long. Unfortunately, throughout the day today, one-tone, grey light offered poor clarity for attempts at drawing/identifying individuals. I appreciated the experience of the unique sound of falling seedpods from a feeding langur group. I know it in my sleep. I know I’d better wake up and follow the moving group if I cease to hear it.
I can’t believe that I will be going home so soon (I leave on Feb. 2)! Some part of me is hoping the month will pass quickly because I am anxious to get home and see my family and friends, yet I know I will miss Phu Kheio terribly. It is difficult to imagine that I may never see Wichian or Lek again (the rangers I work with daily). What I really need is a month at home and then to return to Thailand. Very mixed emotions.