Who’s hiding in the canopy?

We arrived at the 0-meter mark, taking the last few steps up the muddy ascent. We had risen early to be here, leaving the camp at 6:30 am sharp. After wading through five rivers, stumbling up slippery slopes and having Megafauna survey skills explained to us by Arthur, we had reached the beginning of transect six. Lianne was in front of me, recording any data we may collect while I held the compass, ready to take the bearing if necessary. Tied to the tree next to us was a pink ribbon reading, “0 m good luck”. It marked the first point of the transect.

Before we could start our trek, Arthur stopped us with a raise of his hand – he pointed up at the canopy. I followed his finger to see swaying branches and rustling leaves which fluttered as they fell to the ground.

The noise started out slowly, clicking and calling from above. I scanned the trees, trying to see what, for now, only Arthur could. The people behind us noticed the redirected attention and had joined the search. The sounds were getting louder.

In a distant tree sat an animal. The monkey like creature climbed between the branches, calling out with a screeching yell.

“Macaque,” Arthur turned and whispered to us, eyes wide with excitement. I scrambled to grab the compass from where it hung around my neck. I aligned the northern point and spun the top, reading the bearing aloud.

“60 degrees.” Lianne jotted it down on the information sheet. We watched tree in anticipation – the macaque continued to swing around. The sounds were coming from all directions now and more trees were shaking.

Photo by Dr Nancy Priston

Arthur turned to point at another tree, this time closer to us. Another macaque appeared, scaling the branches of the new tree quickly before jumping across to the trunk of another. Before long, they were everywhere. My eyes struggled to keep up with their speed as they disappeared and reappeared again and again. The macaques called out their battle cries, each individual note adding to the creation of a wild cacophony. The forest shook and sent down a million little droplets, like tiny diamonds falling from the sky; the morning rain had soaked the foliage of every tree.

The megafauna drew ever closer until I was straining my neck to look up. The leaves framed any pockets of sky I could see. They shook and rustled and bent beneath the weight of the macaque and water continued to sprinkle down onto my face. I blinked the water away but keep staring up towards the canopy. The macaque peaked between the branches so it was visible and I could imagine it laughing down at us as it called out.

“How many can you see?” asked Arthur, still in a soft whisper as not to scare the animals. Mr. Taylor held up eight fingers with a questioning look. I had counted six, not sure how many were the same macaque spotted multiple times. Arthur grinned at us.

“There are fifteen.”

Without even beginning to walk the path, we had come across a huge group of macaques in a transect they don’t regularly go. You really never know what may happen on survey.

Title photo by Dean Ashton