ATTACK!

*I apologize for the lack of photos in this post, but I will have plenty in the next one.*

I have neglected you all most atrociously, and for this I sincerely apologize. In my defense, however, it has been quite the week both on Cayo and in the world.

Let’s start with the world.  A few words:

Rest in peace, Michael Jackson (*A HEEEE HOOO* (crotch grab)) and Farrah Fawcett.

Good luck and peace, Iran.

And most of all: have you learned nothing from history and Eliot Spitzer, Gov. Sanford?!

OK, now that is out of the way, on to news of Cayo. Of most interest to most people here is the addition of another male researcher to the Punta ranks. This is a big deal. Before Alex turned up, there were exactly two men down here, who spoke English and were involved in research: James and James. (Yes, you read that right. The only two men among a colony of 15+ female researchers are both named James.) So, the addition of new blood and, more importantly, male blood caused quite a stir among the community.  What does he look like? Have you met him? What lab is he with? What is he doing down here? Where is he living?

Well, actually, Alex is living next door. Literally, next door. His flat and mine even connect with a door inside our apartments, which is unconvincingly boarded up for privacy. (I have told him that we should create a knocking code à la Becky and Sarah Crewe’s system in The Little Princess.) Luckily, he seems to be a pretty chill guy. We bonded over Nacho and our common space. He is a rising senior at Dartmouth, a Neuroscience major, and is observing agonistic interactions among the females of groups KK and HH. (I will explain the group system a little later in this post). With his data and that of the other student researchers working for Platt this summer, the CPRC should be able to create a pretty comprehensive map of the female hierarchies on the island. Interesting stuff.  Anyway, the real gist of this passage should be that Alex is cool and that his arrival caused quite the stir. And let it be noted that women do, indeed, flutter, twitter, and preen. Enough said.

On a more personal note, this week was both amazing and terrifying at the same time.  I shall begin with the good and end with the terrifying and more exciting.

I began the week frustrated by the amount of work still looming ahead of me and the prospect of ending the summer with prolonged, hectic, stressed days of aborted trials and scant successes. By mid-week, however, I was pleased to discover that I was starting to recognize monkeys without needing to see their tattoos first and seemed to be getting into a good kind of rhythm. In addition, after sorting through some of my data, I realized that I was only a few days of work away from completing another 4 of the 10 conditions that I need to run this summer. I calculated exactly how many trials I still needed of each nearly complete condition and set out, content to work toward a concrete goal.

A wrench was thrown in my perfect plan, however. I am currently the object of a monkey vendetta. I have no idea what I did to deserve this hatred, but it is there, raw and spontaneous. Here are the facts.

On Tuesday, June 23^rd, 2009 at approximately 12:39PM, I approached a monkey near the upper corral on Big Cay. The monkey was sitting quietly and was mostly alone. I set up my camera about 20 ft. away as per usual and turned it on, then moved into position about 10 ft. from said monkey and ran my experiment (presented buckets, presented food, etc.). The monkey sat quietly for the entire presentation, and when I stepped back to allow the monkey to choose his reward, he approached briskly and took his apple slice. I removed the other option, placed it back in my fanny pack (yes, I know), and returned to my camera to turn it off. I then slowly walked back towards the monkey to ID him. I recorded his ear notches and began to move to a more opportune position to view his leg tattoo. (On males, the chests are so hairy that the leg tattoo is the only visible tattoo.)  The monkey was not terribly cooperative and kept getting up and walking a few steps, sitting down with his legs knock-kneed, etc. I, being the good little scientist I am, followed parallel to him, about 7 ft away, and patiently waited for his tattoo to reveal itself.

Suddenly and with absolutely no warning,  the monkey took one monstrous bound and a giant leap toward me, latching himself onto my arm and pant-hooting in mid-air. I, being the good little human I am, reacted with a pretty terrific flight response, if I do say so myself, and while the monkey was in mid-air, began to move backwards. This means that when the monkey attached himself to my arm, I already had the momentum going to fling him off me.

I ran a good ways away, ditching my equipment, and surveyed the damage. No broken skin. All limbs in tact. Eyes, ears, other vital bits. Check. Terrific. Wait, not terrific. A monkey just tried to eat me. I call out to Alison, who is on the other side of the top of Big Cay, to come help me ID this monkey. Now I need his ID doubly much. We piece together a 5 from the tattoo, but that’s about it. End scene.

Flash forward to Wednesday, I am thoroughly rattled by my event, but I have had monkeys jump on me before. It is a part of the package deal you accept, when you decide to walk around with a fanny pack full of apples all day. I begin to run trials around the lower corral on Big Cay. Giselle, one of the census takers is nearby with a research assistant. I approach a monkey sitting quietly. I run my trial. Trial goes smoothly. I try to ID the monkey. Monkey begins to walk away as I try to get his ID. I follow along behind, as usual. Suddenly, monkey turns and charges at me full speed. I dash out of the way. He stops. I call to Giselle. Monkey charges again, and I run full speed behind a tree. Giselle runs over and run to stand with her. She is shocked. I tell her about the incident the day before. She tells me his ID. He is 75T. Aha, I have a name for my attacker. A member of group HH, she tells me to try to avoid him. She will report him to the colony manager, and he will be dealt with. It is like the monkey mafia. I collect my things and swiftly exit stage left.

Avoiding group HH is far easier said than done. The monkeys migrate in 6 groups. They are, in order of highest to lowest ranking: F, R, HH & KK (equal), V, and S. F is the largest group; V, the smallest. Each group has an alpha male and an alpha female, favorite eating spots, and special resting areas. The hierarchies are pretty solid, too, so the movement of groups on the island is mostly predictable, since the large groups’ migrations determine the other groups’ locations at any given time.

The problem is that while avoiding a low ranking or high ranking group is relatively simple, avoiding a middle ranking group is way more complicated. HH spreads out tremendously, when not being pushed into the West Woods and can split up into little factions all over the bottom half of Big Cay. HH will also often share space with KK, so it is difficult to recognize when you have entered HH territory, since many of the monkeys will be KK monkeys.  Furthermore, each group has more than 50 monkeys or so in it. I mean, there are 900+ monkeys on the island, so each group is quite large. It is tough stuff to know the groups by heart unless you stay with one focal group day in and day out, which I most certainly do not do. Instead, I have to trek from group to group to get as many varied subjects as possible. I couldn’t learn everyone even if I tried.  As a result, the best I can do is attempt to find one or two monkeys that regularly associate with 75T and use them as markers. Then again, 75T is a pretty average looking male monkey, so even if I learn his markings cold, I might still run him in a study. After all, he tends to sit still for them. He just goes after my vitals soon afterward.

There was another similar chase incident on Friday, and after being chased into the lunch cage, I grabbed one of the large boatmen, Felix, to walk with me to retrieve my equipment in the middle of the lower corral area. I felt, in the moment, that pretending to be in a consort pair with him (i.e. walking with a very large man) might deter any further attacks. I thought this was quite the brilliant bit of thinking on my part. Felix just thought it was funny that I needed him to go with me, and by 12PM all the boatmen knew of my damsel in distress moment and were giving me hell. But, whatever, I’d rather be teased than on a course of $400+ anti-virals and suffering a bite wound to the arm.

Anyway, on an up note, I reached my goal and finished my conditions for the week. Huzzah! Also, 75T has been reported to the staff and colony manager, who will most likely remove him from the island during the next trapping season.

I will put up another post tomorrow. I have more to tell, but this post is getting way too long.  Also, interlude next week, since I will be returning to the States for 4^th of July to visit meine Familie. 

Go dance to Thriller.

Much love,

B