Valentine's in Kenya

Valentine's Day in Kenya, surprisingly, is not just like any other day. In fact, I was intrigued to find that it appeared more important to the locals than to the researchers - I don't know why, but I had a misconception that Valentine's Day was a Western thing. Both Wilson and Godfrey commented on the holiday, and one of Kayna's field assistants wore a bright red fleece specifically to celebrate the occasion. For lunch, we were treated to chocolate cupcakes with frosting hearts.

Perhaps one of the reasons that we researchers don't give much outward thought to Valentine's Day is the fact that we're thousands of miles from the people with whom we'd normally celebrate the holiday. The most that we can do, really, is send a romantic e-mail or make a phone call to the significant others or family from whom we're separated by an ocean or two - otherwise, Valentine's Day is yet another long day spent toiling in the field or the lab. To try and deviate from the normal grind, however, Sarah, Kayna (plus Talik), and I went on a Valentine's Day "date" this evening to Lookout Rock (really, it was just an excuse for good company and sundowners).

On our way to the kopje, we passed a group of kids playing football on the airstrip, a wonderful backlit scene that caused us to stop and watch for a few minutes. Once at Lookout Rock, hyraxes scattered as Talik found his way to the top (he needed to be carried part way, though, since he still hasn't quite grown into his paws and is unsure of his footing). A lone hyrax stuck around, keeping a wary yet hopeful eye out for treats as we took turns taking pictures to send to our loved ones back home. The four of us thoroughly enjoyed the evening and decided that, if we couldn't be with our true valentines, this was the next best thing. Some wine, a sweeping view, a sunset, and good company (including a dog). Quite enjoyable.

From this vantage point, I could see where I had been earlier today: less than a kilometer away sat Turkana Boma, where I spent the morning trapping starlings during the first day of the first phase of the brain hormone project. Despite the very recent utilization of this boma (and therefore the fresh dung and plethora of insects), the morning proved futile and we went home brainless (well, bird-brainless). I did enjoy sitting in the shade of one of the many thatch-roofed mud huts that surround the boma, the temporary homes of the pastoral herders. Each hut is more or less the same, a round (occasionally square) structure supported by dozens of upright sticks and branches packed with mud, on top of which sits an inverted cone of thatch tied to more branches. Immediately inside the door is usually a short wall to block the elements when the door is left open (or if there is no door at all), behind which is a long, low-lying shelf of yet more branches - the bed. Next (immediately next) to the bed is the "kitchen," which is nothing more than a few sticks set up to support the minimal belongings these nomads have, such as a bowl used as a washbasin. The people who cycle through these huts have to share their dwelling with a number of other inhabitants, including a variety of insects, spiders, scorpions, small rodents, and the occasional snake. This is truly about as rustic as it gets.

The last few days have proved interesting. On Monday, while trapping at a site known as Vanessa's Glade, Godfrey caught a Superb Starling with only colored bands still on the legs - somehow, the metal ring had fallen off (this is just the opposite of what we normally encounter - metal rings never fall off, but the plastic colored bands often do). Upon closer inspection of the right leg, it was quite clear that it had sustained an injury, likely related to the missing metal ring. A small flap of scaly skin hung from the appendage, which was completely stiff from the ankle down, the toes frozen as if grasping a perch. Mysterious, and difficult to know how this came to be - perhaps the ring got snagged on a branch and the bird struggled to free itself, injuring its leg and leaving the band behind in the process? Hard to imagine, as the metal rings are quite tough.

Unfortunately, the bird’s situation was made quite a bit worse when Godfrey completely broke the leg in half while trying to get a tarsus measurement (usually done by bending the foot down - not possible when the foot is completely rigid!). This necessitated a complete amputation of the leg at the point of separation. We then doused it with 50% ethanol and wrapped it in a makeshift bandage of cotton and parafilm that would fall off in a matter of days. Even though it was not my fault, I felt pretty awful for the poor bird, and somehow guilty - I doubt it will make it much longer. But who knows - I’ve seen other legless birds before.

Also at Vanessa's Glade, the next day, I was surprised and pleased to see a pair of Bat-eared Foxes wander out of the bush, oblivious to my presence. I initially just took this as an unusual and lucky diurnal sighting, thinking I'd get to watch them make their way across the glade to a den somewhere. Instead, I was shocked to see that one of the foxes had taken interest in one of my traps, milling around the perimeter looking at the pawpaw underneath. Apparently Bat-eared Foxes are partially frugivorous, or at least this one had a predilection for pawpaw, as it crouched underneath the wire trap and began munching happily at the fruit. I considered pulling the string, but decided I'd rather not chase my trap all over the bush. Alerted to my presence when I pulled out my camera, it took a few more nibbles before scampering off to join its mate, pausing every so often to look back at me.

That same day, in the afternoon, Godfrey, Wilson, and I took a longer drive home in search of some game after an afternoon baiting the bomas with pawpaw. We stopped briefly at Bakuli Dam, a landmark I had not yet visited, and were treated to some decent views of Klipsringer, an unusual rock-dwelling antelope found exclusively on kopjes and similar rocky outrcroppings. The area above the dam is yet another great place to appreciate sweeping views of the countryside - a small rocky cliff caps the top of a short and shallow valley, in which the dam sits, that fans out into the plateau below.

Later that night, after returning home for dinner and retiring to bed, I heard hyena, leopard, and lion before falling asleep. It's an interesting paradox that such dangerous animals can be a soothing background to which I can fall asleep (at least when I'm safe inside my banda!).

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