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Trinidad: The Ultimate Eco-Tour
BY JENNIFER LANE
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Although spectacularly large—seeming to be easily the size of a Volkswagen beetle—the turtle moves speedily. We hurry to take pictures. A moment later, the huge creature disappears into the sea, leaving surprisingly little behind except two barely visible trails of flipper-marks in the sand. Francis tells us that it’s looking for a place to lay its eggs. Mother turtles, he says, are finicky about nesting sites, and for good reason—a less-than-perfect location could jeopardize the survival of her brood.
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It’s our last full day in Trinidad, and we’re sorry that we’ll be leaving; our stay at Asa Wright has been both wonderful—a true learning experience—and restful. We resolve to spend our last day taking advantage of all the Centre has to offer—enjoying the rainforest trails, the view from the verandah, and the luxurious nineteenth-century surroundings of the Lodge.
After a morning wade in the (natural) pool, located below a small waterfall, we set out down the trail in front of the Lodge. As the trail heads down into the rainforest, the diversity of life here becomes apparent. Leaf-cutter ants march in succession across our path, each hoisting a green snippet of leaf far larger than its own body. We also see red army ants, distinguished from the leaf-cutters by their reddish-black instead of brown bodies. Unlike the leaf-cutters, the army ants don’t clear a path ahead of themselves, but walk wherever they want. Alongside a stream, we see small tree frogs related to the venomous Dendrobates frogs collected by indiginous tribes of South America for curare, a toxin they use to poison arrow tips.
My favorite on our trail hike is the colony of white-bearded manakins. These birds are a “lekking” species—the males inhabit territories called “leks,” which they guard from other males and use as a “stage” for the displays they use to attract females—and generate a loud popping sound using specialized, thick primary feathers on their wings, which they “click” against neighboring feathers, not unlike someone snapping their fingers. Manakins may be the only birds that use such non-vocal sounds to communicate.
Manakins make this sound while performing a dance, in which they bounce rapidly between the ground and any surrounding tree trunks within their territory. The dense spacing of the leks means that numerous males can be seen performing simultaneously. The resulting scene is surprisingly comical, something like a giant, avian popcorn machine in action, complete with sound effects. According to naturalists the female manakins also like the display, but we don’t see any on our trip today, so we’ll have to take their word for it.
We do see a bearded bellbird, another Asa Wright favorite whose call sounds like the “bong” of a tolling bell, and on the way back a potoo—a type of bird known for camouflaging itself. This one is trying to mimic a tree branch, but it can’t fool us. We’ve got binoculars.
The trails around the Centre abound with exotic vegetation, including the pink-flowered “porcelain rose” (related to ginger), red-flowered chaconia vines, kapok trees (also found in the Amazon rainforest), and a variety of fruit trees including mango, banana, cocoa, and breadfruit (the latter introduced to the Caribbean from Tahiti by Captain Bligh in 1793).
As we enjoy our afternoon tea back on the verandah, a brief cloudburst passes. As it tapers off, a spectacular rainbow appears to frame the scenic mountain view. It’s the perfect ending for our trip.
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We’re leaving Trinidad this afternoon, heading to the more “typical” Caribbean destinations of Tobago and Barbados. But not before one last expedition: we can’t leave Trinidad without seeing a caiman.
These medium-sized, alligator-like reptiles are not easy to find, so we enlist a guide, Jogi (who joined us on our turtle-watching excursion), to help us. And he takes us to the TrinCity water treatment plant, which to the mind of a tourist may seem an unintuitive place to find caimans, but is a very logical one for a Trinidadian.
On the scenic grounds of this worthy establishment (“scenic” being surprisingly not so far from a valid description), with an abundance of waterlily-filled ponds surrounded by green rushes, we find a startling diversity of birdlife. Jogi tells us that he routinely takes birdwatching groups here to look for waterfowl. I peer out amid the wattled jacanas and pied water-tyrants, but so far, I don’t see anything
But I do at the second pond—a green snout sporting a pair of bulging eyes, jutting above the water’s surface. We wait, and finally it moves. Though not as big as an alligator, it’s plenty big and reptilian, with lots of pointy teeth. Hot as it is—a humid
90-degree day—I don’t want to swim in that pond.
Content that we have seen as much wildlife as one can fit into a one-week visit, we head for Piarco airport, our bags full of film to be developed and our minds full of images we’re not likely ever to forget. Ahead of us is the Caribbean of postcards and travel magazines, the glamorous world of tourism. And we know that it is only part of the “real” Caribbean. As our plane ascends over the mountains of Trinidad’s northern range, we know that down there is the Asa Wright Nature Centre, perched on its misty mountaintop—a gem hidden in the rainforest.
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