Fun with Wildlife

Being out where we are has brought us closer to nature. Much closer. Part of this is that we’re in a developing country, and so nature hasn’t been escaped to the degree that it has been in the States. Flora and fauna aren’t held at bay, allowed in only for landscape decoration. There’s also the fact that we’re in an equatorial country that consists largely of rainforest. We have caymen (smaller alligators), normal alligators, and giant alligators, for example. Finally, our specific site placement is out in the country; we’re not holed up in the middle of the capital city, as is another of our cohort. Each plot of land here is 15 acres, not ¼ of an acre, so there’s plenty of space for things to grow.

There are several effects due to this… proximity that we have with nature. We enjoy beautiful views off of our back porch. The savannah is breathtaking. As soon as you turn off the main road to come back to our set of villages, you know that you’re in for a treat. Everyone grows their own gardens out here: Vegetable and fruit gardens for subsistence, flower gardens for decoration. There are more coconut trees than you can shake a stick at. A typical visit with a family here invariably includes offers of fruits, vegetables, coconut water or milk, etc etc etc. Kids are always sent out to knock down coconuts for us (pretty fun to watch), or grab whatever else is growing off the nearby trees, bushes, vines, and roots.

And then there are the Beast Wars.

It opened with the Morubuntas. These are wasps. They thought that they owned our apartment; we disagreed. There’s a red breed on the front of the house; they build mud domes. Blue wasps in the back burrow into the wood. Another group, which is everywhere, builds the hanging-down nests. It took several weeks, two bottles of spray, a bottle of Clorox, and sitcom-worthy scenes of me in 2 layers of clothes, up on a ladder (miraculously earning me just one sting on my hand, which swelled immensely) before that war was won. We still have one or two fly into the house each day, but that’s better than 20 per day (a mass grave had to be created when every single visitor was killed each day for 3 days).

Another swelling I got was from the fire ants. I’ve been stung by bees and bitten by fire ants in the States, but the guys down here are particularly nasty. After my foot swelled to the point that I couldn’t put on my sandal, I called our medical officers, who confirmed that I most likely was not developing an allergy, but that the local poisoners are particularly effective. Your main option is to dope up on antihistamine and wait it out.

The dispute with the frogs hasn’t gone so well. There’s a monster frog downstairs by the garbage bin; he’s scary, and I’ve contemplated getting a shotgun, or a saddle, to deal with him. But we’ve lost a land invasion and bombing episode launched by these tiny suction-toed wall-climbing frogs. They hop up the outside of the house, up to the second floor where we are, bounce through the windows, and take over the house every night. This is in tandem with the wall-climbing geckos and other lizards that come in each night. However, it’s the frogs that bomb us. They leave little individual pieces of crap EVERYWHERE. Since they climb the walls, you can find these little blessings anywhere in the apartment. Nowhere is safe. I won’t get into specifics, but take a moment to think about the nastiest and most inconvenient places to find frog crap. Go ahead.

We have a few birds who visit us each day. I think that at one point a little nocturnal woodpecker of some sort was setting up shop in our bedroom. I would wake up every morning around 2 or 3 and here him going at it. Lately though, I haven’t heard it, so either I acclimated or he moved on to new digs.

Speaking of woodeaters, another losing battle was the wood-ants. Termites. We have big blue tarp above the walls (remember that walls don’t go all the way to the ceiling in this country) in our kitchen, bathroom, and bedroom, catching all the piles of wood grindings falling from above. We’ve also lost, so far, to the mosquitos; we run inside our bed net every night as soon as it gets dark (6 o’clock), else it’s BIG trouble. Heaven forbid a little guy makes it in with you, and be stuck inside all night, gorging on you as you sleep.

And, without further ado, there’s my shower story. This one is not for the faint of heart. It happened a few weeks back. We shower with the window closed, because otherwise, well, it’s just weird and you feel a bit exposed. This doesn’t really close things up, because we’re missing a pane of glass in the bathroom (among other places), so there’s always a view of the back few acres, some of the road, and the cricket field. And so it was getting dark one evening, and so we were hurrying to get under the mosquito net. I was taking my evening shower, lathering up from the bucket, when a little guy came in through the window.

The next 6 seconds took an eternity. My visitor was as long as my hand from wrist to the tip of my middle finger; I don’t have big hands, but I’m not 7 years old, either. I first identified the chap as a bird that had gotten lost. What else could be that big, black, and come through a second-story window?

As he (or she) tumbled down from the window ledge to the tile floor of the shower, I realized that it wasn’t flying down, but falling. As it writhed and squirmed down through 5 feet of air, prepping for the landing, I realized that he belonged to the order Rodentia. Yes, folks. I was watching a 6-7 inch rat plummet down into my shower floor. With me. Where I was standing. Naked.

I scrambled to escape. My only thought was that the shower stall has a lip that comes up, and there was a chance that the rat would be stuck in there with me, confused and afraid. There’s no rabies in this country, but remember: I was naked. Darwin was forcing me to act. However, I was wet and soapy, so my attempt to run and leap away was like a Bugs Bunny cartoon as I scrambled for traction. I flung myself gracelessly out of the stall, landing in a heap on the floor. Years of martial arts training did manage to help me control my fall, as I landed loudly but relatively painlessly on my side, outside the front of the shower.

It was at this moment, that the rat also managed to make it out of the shower. He scrabbled up onto the shower lip, then leapt off to freedom.

Onto my lower thigh.

Now, in case you’ve forgotten, I’ll remind you one last time: I was naked. This was when words finally started escaping my mouth (remember, it’s only been about 5 seconds). Loud, violent cursing erupted from my mouth, as I entered into dialogue with the squeaking monster on my leg. Luckily, he appeared to be as freaked out by this situation as much as I was. He rebounded, jumping off my leg and making for the back of the bathroom, where he scrambled into a hole between the boards.

It was over. My partner, hearing the bangs of my landing, followed by bellowed curses, was pretty sure I’d managed to seriously injure myself in the shower. We recovered from the situation and laughed about it within a few minutes (with that much adrenaline pumping through me, I had to laugh, to let the twitchies out).

The next night we heard a noise, and woke up to find Bathrat’s teenage son swimming in our half-full toilet-flushing bucket. He couldn’t get out, and was treading water.

I poured some bleach into the bucket with him, and put the lid on. He was dead by morning. I didn’t enjoy that, or putting poison a few days later, but that’s how it is here. You’ve got front row tickets to the Nature show, and you better be ready.

We hope to have the windows screened by Christmas.