A different ballgame

Basketball to Filipinos is like football (soccer) to Brazilians. We just love the game. So much so that if one goes around the Philippines, you’ll find basketball courts in villages everywhere, even in the middle of the streets (the two rings are on either side of the street). Not to mention a lot of the work offices, both private and government. And, everyone watches.

As such, I thought it would be a good idea to have one of the basketball teams of the hacienda carry the name ‘Maral’ (the local name for the leopard cat). After all, everyone comes to the game, even people from other haciendas. This annual basketball league games start from the second week of November and lasts until before Christmas; quite a bit of exposure for the leopard cat, and an unconventional one at that.

So I went to my first game earlier today. The team’s jerseys were just hot off the tailoring shop, and I was eager to see how they’d fare. More importantly, I was anxious to see how the audience will receive them. This is already their second game, and they had changed their name from ‘Wildcats’ to ‘Maral’.

The game has already started by the time we got there. My team is on its element. And the people were cheering: "Maral! Maral!" I was fervently hoping that subconsciously, their cheers for the cat that frequents their cane fields will penetrate them, and that consciously, they will be our allies in conservation.

“…We will understand only what we are taught.”

It was our trial run: Ara-al Elementary School. Having experienced doing a full-on lecture with elementary students, I begged off this time. I wanted to do something that is easily digested, informative, fun, and something that will get them to think. We succeeded with the story-telling and the modified 20 Questions.

However, there is one huge frustration, and I noticed this when I played Frans Lanting’s 2005 TED talk to pass time while one class goes out and another comes in. The children, in all levels, readily identified the large African mammals. I thought, I wonder how they’d do with Philippine wildlife? I already had a hunch they won’t do as well as they did with the African fauna, and I was proven right when I flashed a leopard cat photo and the class roared, “Tiger!”

I would’ve thought that these children, who are growing up in an area teeming with native wildlife, would know them. City kids don’t fare well with native wildlife because TV exposed them to exotic fauna, and having grown up in the city, is limited to pets and commensal species. But apparently, these rural kids are about the same.

My frustration is two-pronged. One is with their teachers, who it turns out, teach their kids exactly what they know and were able to identify (i.e. exotic megafauna). And the second, and more important one, is with myself and colleagues in the conservation sciences. And the first is actually very much connected to the second.

How many of us scientists will admit that we lack the ability to communicate ourselves to those we call the general public? Even more so, how many of us will admit that we cannot teach?

Having read quite a few papers, scientific publication isn’t really very digestible. And I’d probably get shot for saying this, but it is boring, and frigid. Boring and frigid to those who do not belong in that field. I’ve spent about six years in two universities, and I’ve had numerous professors, most of them scientists. Almost all of them shine in their respective fields, and are well-respected by colleagues. But only a handful can actually reach out to their students; communicate with them (as opposed to ‘TO them’); and impart themselves to their students.

My thoughts? For those who can teach, teach. For most of us who can’t, inform those who teach.

A hectare a day

It’s only been a week since harvest started, and already, it has changed the landscape dramatically. It’s not that I have not seen a harvested field; it’s that it feels quite different to see what used to be vast expanse of sugarcane turn into fields of dried cane leaves, flat on the ground, one hectare a day.  The sound of the wind as it rustles through the tall cane is no more. I no longer hear the sounds of the birds shuffling under the cane, nor do I see them perching amongst the leaves. It is unsettling to walk through these fields without the cane overshadowing me. I remember taking shelter amongst them, when one rainy transect day, lightning hit close to the ground. What if we have another one of those lightning-happy days? There will be no more cane to take cover in.

As I gaze upon these harvested fields, I am frustrated by my continued inability to answer one of the fundamental questions of this research: where do the leopard cats go?

The doldol tree

I heard this story when I was still working with FFI-PBCP doing an ethnobiological survey of the distribution and conservation status of the leopard cat. I was talking to the women in an upland barangay in Antique, and they said, “You know the doldol [Ceiba pentandra] means a great deal to us.” “How so?,” I wondered out loudly to them. They smiled, “Because when the doldol dehisces, we know our men will be coming home soon.”

The sakadas arrived in the hacienda the day before. There are about 70 of them; all of them from Antique. As I stood before them early this morning, discussing the project, I peered through their faces. Some are young, some are about my age, and some are older. In the next seven months, these men will be harvesting the cane. They will be seeing our live traps, and our hair snares. Chances are, they will be uncovering kitten, encountering adult cats. We need to know if they do. I also asked them to let the cats be. I explained why. They seem to understand. Some were nodding their heads. Most were just listening.

We shall see. I am hopeful though.

Hello, food

We went out early in the morning to make a round of the traps. While on our way down Transect 8 where two traps were deployed, we noticed leopard cat tracks heading east. We hurried to the first trap. Nothing. We did the usual routine of replenishing the food and water, and hurried on to the next one. Nothing. As we walked to the next trap in Transect 12, we saw more tracks, still heading east. It looks as if the cat just passed by two of our traps.

The cat probably took a look at the live bait in the trap, and said, “Hello, food. Too bad you’re in the trap.” And passing the second one, it must’ve said, “Tsk tsk tsk. Such a waste!”

Hope for harvest

We did the usual things we do every morning when we check traps: make coffee, get the chicks that will be replacing yesterday’s bait ready, prep some food and water for our live baits, and then take off. This morning was different though. Today will be the blessing of the cane.

It started only about three years ago for this hacienda. People come to pray for a good harvest season, which will last from November to around June of next year. One may think that with the onset of harvest, the crop year has come to a full cycle. It hasn’t. Many things can still go wrong during the long harvest period. The female pastor’s prayer revealed so much of the dynamics of cane harvest, and for someone who didn’t grow up in a farm, it was fascinating for me. It wasn’t only inclement weather, or pest, but the people themselves, who are involved in harvest.

In a few days, the sakadas (cane cutters who were hired by a middleman from another place or island) will come to the hacienda. They will be housed in the quarters solely their own in the middle of the tiny hacienda village. Having so many people in such a small place for an extended period of time creates negative energy sometimes, and it was not only once that we were told of fights breaking up between the locals and the sakadas.

But today everyone is hopeful. That this harvest season will bring not only the owner, but also the people, a bit of blessing, and the hacienda, peace.

Marar! Marar!

For the last three weeks, we’ve been passing through a shortcut Jeric discovered on our way to the traps. We’d pass by this small hut, and there’s always these two kids shyly looking at us. Niño and Niña are siblings, only a year within each others’ age, 3 or 4. They’d whisper to each other: “Marar!” (their way of saying maral, the local term for leopard cat). Lately, I think their shyness has dissolved, and every time we pass by their hut, or their cornfields, they’ll shout in greeting, “Marar! Marar! Marar!” How can one not smile and wave back?

Tabo-an

We woke up early today to check the traps, and retrieve the chicks; traps will be closed for the weekend. We hurried home after, knowing we need to leave Araal early. Today is the tabo-an. While it literally means meeting, tabo-an in Ilonggo is ‘market day’, the day when crop-producing barangays come down to the town market to sell their produce. Fruits, meat, fish, vegetables, and eggs are cheaper compared to a regular day at the market. It is also when kakanin, any delicacy made from glutinous rice, will be sold everywhere.

We started off with the groceries, not knowing today was a big sale day for the only supermarket in town. Lopue’s La Carlota was packed, and it was only 8:30 in the morning! Jeric left to purchase the things we needed from the wet market, while I was left to wait patiently for my turn at the cashier. We have had several incidence with the guard and the cashier at that supermarket. They didn’t want us to use our own bag, and the last time I was there, I got irritated that I went straight to the manager and complained. He was nice enough, but I guess since then, I earned myself a reputation at Lopue’s. I left for the market afterwards. I’m excited. Today is my first tabo-an.

I was amazed at what I saw. The streets surrounding the market were filled with vendors selling everything from tomatoes to dried fish to second-hand clothing. I roamed around, my eyes feasting on all these. I purchased a few things we need, and proceeded to the tricycle terminal where I’m meeting Jeric.

I love tricycles from Araal! You can ask them to take your water container, have it refilled at the water refilling station, and have them take your container back to your place—for only PhP20 for the whole trip! Or you can leave a boxful or groceries at Lopue’s, go into town to do some marketing, take the trike, and ask them to pass by Lopue’s so you can retrieve your groceries and take it home with you. Which is exactly what we did on our way back to Ara-al.

Lamentation

Blisters on my feet; cane cuts on my face

Long walks under the sweltering heat,

Or the cold Araal rain

Still, no cat

We know they’re there—

We’ve seen the tracks,

And collected the scats

Why can’t we get them to go in the traps???

Live bait

How would you feel if you were left for days in a trap, with only your feeder and waterer to accompany you in the bait compartment? I would be traumatized, I imagine.

We didn’t take the traps, or baits, out in the morning, and I visited them alone this afternoon to replenish their food and water supply. Tom was her usual perky self, but no longer panicky. She also up-ended her feeder, scattering food all over the trap floor. I replenished her food and water, and scolded her a bit for throwing away her food. Geri was better with her food, but I threw it away because it got wet when it rained hard earlier in the afternoon. I also gave her some water. The moment I set down her waterer, Geri started drinking. I apologized for the delay in delivering water to her; I gave her some more.

I walked to where the first trap baited with chick was. I’m beginning to hate the vines that grow between cane rows. I almost always get caught in them, either my neck, or my feet. As I got closer to the trap, the chick started yipping loudly. I told it, “It’s ok, it’s just me.” I quickly got to it, gave it more food and water; it was hungry. I said, “I’m sorry; next time we’ll bring you food earlier.” I moved to the next trap. The chick yipped even louder when I bent down to take the bamboo stakes out to open the bait compartment door. It was scared. I put my hand in, and it kipped under it. When I moved to get the waterer and feeder, it yipped again, and when I put my hand on it, it stopped. I crooned to it. I was sorry to leave it on it’s own. Before I left, I said, “Get me a cat, will you?” I went on to check the last one. It didn’t have any more food, or water, so I gave it some. It was thirsty. I gave it some more water.

It was almost 6 PM by the time I finished my round of the traps. I was exhausted. I realized I moved more quickly when Jeric’s not around. I also realized that my memory served me well, at least in finding the traps. They were all set deep within a cane field, and only a braid of cane leaves mark the entrance to the row where the traps were set.

I walked slowly on my way home. I love these walks. They induce me to think. I thought, there must be some improvement we can do on the traps. Camouflage the floor more, perhaps.

Yet again…

Instead of baiting the hair snares this morning, we set out with the carpenters who will be working on our observation posts to gather the bamboo. I enjoyed the ride on the tractor, although I probably have numerous cuts from the cane, again. We also saw some edible mushrooms on the way, and although Jeric was first to get to them, I asked him to give them to carpenters. The real Platform Day will be tomorrow!

Our third attempt, yes. With the help of the village hunter, we set up two traps. Walking through the Transect 13, manong Ronnie would peer inside the cane from time to time. I guess he’s trying to think like a cat; something I’ve failed to do several times already. He stopped. We went in. This time, we went further inside parcel 5. Tom was unwilling to go inside the bait compartment. Quite understandable. The set up was basically the same; nong Ronnie didn’t put soil to camouflage the trap floor though. From parcel 5, we went further in. We’re going to parcel 13 THROUGH the cane. I braced myself. Off to #13 we go, winding through the cane, wincing every time a blade catches some bare skin. He stopped, and again, he bent down and leveled the soil. This is where we’re setting the second one up. Same procedure. We tried the treadle-and-door mechanism several times, and like Tom’s trap, Jerry’s was working well. We stood up, and I braced myself again for more cane. We went straight home.

And another one…

We set out earlier today. With three traps out, in two different areas, we had to hurry up. It was still dark when we went out at 4:45 AM. We scoured between the cane rows with our light. We didn't mark where we set up the traps for fear of losing them. We found one. The door was triggered, but there was nothing in the trap. We hurried to the second one. Trapdoor was still up. Nothing. We walked to the next one, which was on the other side of the parcel we're currently in. It was the last one. Still nothing. We took the trap with us; I was to hide it in a safe place. The morning is starting to creep in. We have to hurry; we've already seen workers moving towards the direction of the hacienda. We cannot risk being seen by more people. I decided to hide the trap in a cane parcel next to the road. I covered it with dried cane leaves, and was about to follow Jeric to retrieve the 2 other traps when I saw man walking towards me. I stopped and greeted him good morning. I let him walk in front of me. He was going towards the same direction I was going, and where Jeric was still busy with retrieving the 2 traps. I hope he doesn't see Jeric popping out of the cane field with a trap in hand. He didn't. But another worker, on a carabao, did.

I observed him as he was walking towards me. He was checking out the areas between the cane rows. A bad feeling was creeping at me. I got the other trap from Jeric, and hurried to the one I hid. If he went searching that other field, he will chance upon it. I tried walking even faster. I was relieved to see he was going in a different direction. I got the first trap, and sat on a rock, the two traps in front of me. One has Tom in it, while the other had dried fish.

I was caught by surprise when I saw several workers walking towards me from the direction where we retrieved the traps. I cursed under my breath. All of them stopped when they saw me with the traps. They were all interested in either the rat or the trap, or both. Big trouble.

Very BIG trouble. I saw Jeric walking amongst the men, I stood up, and motioned for him to keep walking. I was in a foul mood. And so was he.

The word is out. We are trapping marals. With white rats. With nice traps. The discussion was our breakfast this morning. How to go about this? Manang Diding will know. I am also frustrated by our failure. I know it's only our second attempt, but I do not have months to try and capture a cat. I decided to have Jeric ask nang Diding if she knows a local who hunts leopard cats. To top this morning's fiasco, we didn't have power until late in the afternoon.

Tomorrow is another day.

Second attempt?

I was up by 3:48 AM; too excited so I couldn't get back to sleep. Is there a cat pissed off because he got caught, and frustrated because he couldn't get to rat that lured him to the trap in the first place? Or like Rajan, would we have to wait for months before we can catch our first one?

My alarm rang at 4:45. I got up, and heard Jeric stir. I went down to the loo; went back up to change clothes. We got our stuff ready the night before, and the coffee was ready by the time I got down. I was fidgety. I wanted to go out. I didn't even finish my coffee when I told Jeric, "let's go." One reason was it was almost light. Another was I was too excited.

We walked purposefully to where we set the trap. We were ready. We had discussed the night before the steps we'd take if we have a capture; the data that should be entered in the form. The works.

We got to the trap. I peered. I directed my headlamp to the entrance. An eye shine. But, no cat. Tom survived the night. While Jeric was taking the trap out, i survived the road for tracks and scats; hoping to know if a cat came by, and the trap was just unattractive, or repulsive. There was none. It didn't rain and the soil was too hard to retain any paw print.

We headed home. Tom was reunited with Geri, and both are now cuddled in sleep. Geri was no longer peeking out.

I was up by 3:48 AM; too excited so I couldn't get back to sleep. Is there a cat pissed off because he got caught, and frustrated because he couldn't get to rat that lured him to the trap in the first place? Or like Rajan, would we have to wait for months before we can catch our first one?

My alarm rang at 4:45. I got up, and heard Jeric stir. I went down to the loo; went back up to change clothes. We got our stuff ready the night before, and the coffee was ready by the time I got down. I was fidgety. I wanted to go out. I didn't even finish my coffee when I told Jeric, "let's go." One reason was it was almost light. Another was I was too excited.

We walked purposefully to where we set the trap. We were ready. We had discussed the night before the steps we'd take if we have a capture; the data that should be entered in the form. The works.

We got to the trap. I peered. I directed my headlamp to the entrance. An eye shine. But, no cat. Tom survived the night. While Jeric was taking the trap out, i survived the road for tracks and scats; hoping to know if a cat came by, and the trap was just unattractive, or repulsive. There was none. It didn't rain and the soil was too hard to retain any paw print.

We headed home. Tom was reunited with Geri, and both are now cuddled in sleep. Geri was no longer peeking out.

Catching cats

We were unsure if it would be good to set the trap. The four o' clock sky was too dark, and thunder is threatening to bring what seems to be a downpour. If I cannot bear to think of the rat Tom getting drenched and cold for an evening, how much more the potential leopard cat capture? I made a decision. It hasn't rained yet; we can still go. We set out with the rat, some food and water for our poor live bait, the trap, some bamboo stakes that we will use to secure the trap to the ground, and an espading (a large cutting tool for harvesting cane).

We got to the area where we had planned to put the trap. Jeric went to level the soil. We secured the trap with the bamboo stakes; scattered more soil on the trap floor, and covered it with dried cane leaves. I reluctantly put Tom (short for Tomasa),  in the bait compartment, apologizing for what will be a long and cold night (hopefully, not wet too); and what may be the trauma of her murid life. I placed a rock before the treadle, hoping that the leopard cat has enough sense to step over it and place its foot on the treadle, triggering the door shut. We put more dried leaves around the trap, hoping that it looks as natural as cane rows go.

I took some photos of the trap after we finished setting it up. With one last apology to Tom we left. I hope it won't rain tonight. It's already half past 9 in the evening, still no rain.

Geri (short for Geronima), the quieter of the two rats, was unusually mobile this evening. She also kept on looking out; seemingly looking for someone. I talked to her, saying Tom's going back to the crate tomorrow. I didn't tell her that if we didn't get any cat tonight, it will be her turn to go out and be bait. I don't think she'll be able to take it.

We're going out tomorrow at 5:30 am. I am excited; worried about Tom though. I do feel sorry for her, and for Geri, who I'm sure is missing her friend and roommate.

Hopefully tomorrow...

Transects

We walked purposefully. The sun hasn’t shown up in the sky as yet, and the skies were clear. Perfect day to establish the transects. We worked on the map the day before, choosing carefully where the transects will be laid down. We used ArcGIS to measure each of them, carefully outlining where they will be placed. Armed with GPS receivers, flagging tapes, markers, hacienda map, tarpaulin cut into rectangles that will be used as tags, water, and some food, we set off. This is going to be a long day.

Elusive

We’ve been here for 20 days now.  Our day surveys have yielded a few scats, but the tracks were scarce. The dawn and evening surveys yielded no leopard cat sighting. Others have seen them, but the beautiful cat continues to elude us.

It left something behind…

We left the rest house a little later than desired. No dawn survey today; it was only 5:30 in the morning but the light has gotten there first. We should’ve gone for 4 AM. We’ll go poop searching instead. We went to Najalin River. No such luck. I wasn’t about to give up. I told Jeric we’re going to search the northern parts of the hacienda. It was still cool, although the sun was already up. Jeric was walking in front of me, our eyes were scouring the road between cane parcels. He stopped, and exclaimed, “Tracks!” I hurried to where he was, and lo and behold, leopard cat tracks. Our first tracks! And here we thought the substrate wasn’t suitable for retaining the small paw print of this light-footed animal. Perhaps the conditions should be right for it do so. Afternoon rains soften the soil enough for the leopard cat’s feet to leave an imprint, and no rain in the evening and the following morning hardens the soil, preserving the tracks temporarily.

We followed the small paw prints. There was more heading west, on the road! I went trigger-crazy. I probably took photos of almost all the prints we saw. GPS coordinates were not forgotten. We realized the tracks went both ways: east and west. Was the cat following something? We found some overlapping prints, like the hind foot stepping on the fore foot. I took out the caliper and measured a number of tracks. Almost the same size for the same foot. Must be the same cat?

First days

It would’ve been nice if this was just a lazy Sunday morning. Instead, I am feeling restless. I should be out there mapping, not sitting in the rest house and fiddling with ArcGIS ©, trying to recall old lectures and lab exercises. My back is still killing me. I should’ve been more careful yesterday, then I wouldn’t be sitting here feeling useless.

I was proud of what we accomplished yesterday morning: we mapped out the entire perimeter of the hacienda. My guide, manong Oca, was late in picking me up in the afternoon. It had already started raining on our way to Najalin River. I trekked slowly; water sliding down compacted mud makes for a good sliding down, way down. No thanks. We got to the river. I really wanted to get the edge of the property so I asked my guide if we can river trek to get there.  He was fine with it. Then he started rock-hopping. I was clambering laboriously over huge boulders, careful not to slip. It was raining heavily now. We haven’t really gone far when I stopped. This poncho is a nuisance! I took it off as my guide watches in disbelief, like getting soaked is unheard of in this part of the world. “Day, mabasa ka gid!” [you’re going to get soaking wet!] I said I’d rather get drenched than break a hip. He shrugged. We went on. I would stop every now and then to get geographic coordinates for that area. I didn’t care so much that I was getting soaked to the bones, but I did worry about the GPS. Would thumbing the keys allow water to seep through the equipment? I hope not.

On the trail going back up, I was still mapping but I was already shivering. I was soaked, and the wind wasn’t going to be kind. We hurried home.

That evening, I couldn’t sleep. Our first days on field. I’m excited. My thoughts were punctuated by a symphony: male frogs calling to the females; insects humming; rain falling; leaves rustling; fruit bats fighting over some fruit in a nearby tree; the Tockay gecko calling every now and then. It was almost one in the morning.

Hacienda

Hacienda Dos Marias in Barangay Araal, La Carlota City in the province of Negros Occidental, Philippines

In recognition

First off, we would like to recognize the people and organizations with whom this project owes its humble beginnings:

Collaborative Lab for Asian Wildlife Studies | Conservation Biology Program-UMN | Council of Graduate Students-UMN | Dayton-Wilkie Natural History Funds | Field Museum of Natural History | Ford Foundation-International Fellowships Program | Ideawild | Negros Forests & Ecological Foundation, Inc. | Philippines Biodiversity Conservation Program | Rufford Small Grants

Dr Todd Arnold | Dr Francie Cuthbert | Dr Larry Heaney |Gerry Ledesma | Paul Lizares | Dr Rajan Rajaratnam | Dr Dave Smith | Dr Karen Oberhauser | William Oliver

As this project goes through its phases, there will be more people added to this list, and hopefully, more organizations as well. Maraming, maraming salamat po for getting us started!