Lunch on the island. From left: Rutilio (botanist); our gracious cook; Epi (marine biologist); Luis (environmental engineer); myself; and Jack (my friend)
I frequently forget how amazing my job is. After a few days, the daily boat trip to the island can become tedious. Before long, the pleasant sun I greet on my arrival represents a punishing orb that gives me burns. The ocean gets your clothes wet. The beach is a hangout for sand flies. The jungle means a sweaty hike. It is not until someone from the outside experiences it alongside me, do I rekindle my love affair with this island.
My friend Jack had a week off and decided to spend it in Panama. At the last minute, I had to be on Isla Palenque to accompany our environmental engineers during their visit to complete the Environmental Impact Statement that the government requires for us to obtain a concession to build a dock. They were there to make sure we weren’t going to kill any coral, compromise the habitat of any fish, or destroy any important coastal species. Jack’s trip to Panama quickly turned from beach-lounging vacation to island development 101 as he accompanied me and the team of marine biologists, botanists, and engineers on this two-day adventure.
It all seems routine to me: driving the boat out to Palenque, anchoring, looking at plans, trying to get a GPS signal, determining if the tide is going in or out, making sure I have sunscreen on, etc. While standing on the shore where the Marina will be, I hear rustling in the trees and assume it’s the monkeys. I am aware, but indifferent. They have become a way of island life. The environmentalists and I don’t really pay much attention as we’re all focused on the direction the pier will go and where it will land on shore. I am, however, consciously enjoying the shade of the magnificent mango tree that spreads itself like a giant circus tent over the bluff.
Plop… plop… plop. Every 20 seconds or so, I hear something fall from above. When I turn to see what it is, I realize that the monkeys above are finishing off mangoes, one after another, and throwing the pits at our huddled group. This isn’t a pack of angry primates aggressively defending their turf like you might see at your local zoo’s gorilla cage. This is more like a group of seven-year-old kids trying to skip rocks. These howlers knew we weren’t a threat and seemed to be making a little game out of this. They were enjoying the abundant fruit and the entertainment below. My first reaction was annoyance until my eyes spotted Jack, looking up and laughing. I quickly find the humor in the situation and realize how fortunate I am to be out on Palenque getting pegged with mango pits.
TAGS: Isla Palenque Panama Panama Wildlife Sustainability Wildlife
Ha! I love this story. What’s that saying… familiarity breeds contempt? I’d love to have switched places with you that afternoon – how fun!