Biology Reference
In-Depth Information
the helicopter to lift them higher up the mountains. Torrential rains marred the evening and
increased the fear that their helicopter would be grounded on the following day. Bruce and
Steve decided to split the overall expedition into two teams. The hill-forest team would take a
short hike from Kwerba and explore the lower slopes. Bruce would lead the helicopter-moun-
tain team. “No problem in splitting the group, as many do not want to go in helicopter into
high mountains . . . (not safe),” he wrote in his field journal, the short parenthetical postscript
capturing the fears that went unspoken.
When their transport arrived at 9:30 a.m. on November 22, a few team members imme-
diately set off with Bruce and the pilot into a heavy mountain cloud. They looked out the
window in vain for their intended “landing spot,” a boggy lakebed. Not the ideal helipad,
but a rare patch of flat earth amid the rugged mountains. In the fog, however, they couldn't
see a thing. During twenty minutes of searching, the anxiety levels on the chopper climbed
steadily. After a few more turns with no visibility, the pilot opted for an instrument landing
and located the site using the global positioning system (GPS). The cloud opened just as he
lowered to drop them in.
Some tree kangaroos lounging in the branches noted the noisy intrusion, if not its signific-
ance. The men now unloading boxes of camping gear represented the largest-ever group of
scientists and possibly the first humans to walk on this spot, 1,650 meters above sea level.
The most ecologically important reading was not the altitude, however; it was the distance
from the nearest village: a two-week trek. Three additional runs, navigating the ever-increas-
ing cloud on the mountaintop, brought in the rest of the helicopter-mountain team. The final
run, carrying much of the botanical and mammalogical field equipment, did not make it in
because of the weather. The team would have to do without.
To the newcomers, the absence of old campfires and forest trails—signs of hunters at
work—was encouraging. The two headmen from the local Kwerba and Papasena tribes ac-
companying the expedition were as astounded as the biologists at how isolated the place was.
As far as they knew, no one from either clan had ever been here. Perhaps birds of paradise,
bowerbirds, tree kangaroos, and spiny anteaters—the species that Bruce and his colleagues
hoped to see, on the basis of Bruce's previous work and Jared Diamond's reports—would
still thrive here. These were the species that would offer clues about the patterns of rarity and
abundance among closely related species, especially in the absence of humans.
Setting up camp in the forest by the bog dispelled some of the landing jitters, and any
lingering fright soon gave way to elation. The first afternoon, as Bruce marked trail routes for
animal surveys, a song from the forest suddenly stopped him in his tracks. He could barely
contain his joy. He had just heard the call of the black sicklebill, a bird not expected to be
in the Fojas. One of the most soughtafter birds of paradise—a glossy black creature with a
sickle-shaped bill, red irises, and a saber-like tail—it is also the most difficult of its family to
see in the wild.
