Puerto Maldonado, late December 2018

[cranefly]

1/1/2019: Part 3 -- Catch Basin
We get back to the ecolodge with time to spare before dusk.  But this merely provides an opportunity for yet another outing -- to a catch-basin maybe a ten-minute walk from the ecolodge.  Mohsin had meant to take us there yesterday, but forgot, so he's working it in now.

As for the genesis of this outing, I had earlier expressed an interest in looking at fish (in addition to all else), but figured it wasn't possible because the river is so muddy.  But Mohsin, ever accommodating, said, "Oh, I think there might be a way."  This catch-basin is what he had in mind.

So a lot of us, despite just returning from the long Transect C trek, put shoes and socks back on and fall in behind Mohsin.

Dusk is starting to settle as we walk a new path.  For whatever reason Saurabh and Paula bring up The Human Centipede again.  Saurabh remains amused that I docked it for scientific inaccuracy in using a millipede for a centipede.  As the conversation continues, Stuart, just ahead of me in his brilliant white dress shirt, is strangely silent.  I wonder what he thinks of me.  Even more, I wonder what Saurabh and Paula will think of me once they see the movie, which they intend to do upon returning home.

Mohsin brings our troupe to a halt to point out a big grasshopper near the tip of a leaf at head height.  It isn't alive, having succumbed to a zombie fungus that took over its brain and made it travel to this prominent spot, the better to disperse spores that will infect other insects.  I've seen such things before, but my morbid fascination knows no bounds.

Further along, Mohsin pauses to point out "a beautiful bloom," before adding with a snort, "with a bullet ant on it."  He has pointed out so many bullet ants during our travails that, upon returning to the States, I google their range -- and yes, we are in prime bullet ant territory.

At last we arrive at the catch-basin.  There isn't much to it.  The barest stream feeds into a tiny reservoir a foot deep by 15 feet across.  It looks natural, irregular in shape, tucked in by vegetation, but the ecolodge staff likely "encouraged" its formation.  A pipe runs underground from it to the ecolodge's water tank.

I'm disappointed, having expected a larger pond.  I was hoping to see some arowana, having recently read The Dragon Behind the Glass.  Arowana are a most prized aquarium fish, extremely rare in the wild, worth thousands of dollars to collectors (not that I would ever want to catch one), and we're in one of the few areas where arowana might still be found.  But this is much too small a body of water.

Dusk is settling in as we inspect the catch-basin.  The water is clear.  Things move about, possibly tiny fish, crustaceans.  It's hard to make out much, and poking at anything on the bottom stirs up sediment.  Some of us (self included) explore the tiny stream that feeds the catch-basin, but find little beyond mud and spiders.  The most interesting critter at the catch-basin is a water stick insect, sometimes called a water scorpion (there are roughly 50 species in South America).

LC and I didn't bring our camera, but here's a couple photos I found online:




Five inches long, it sits at water's edge with its head and mantis-like front legs underwater, waiting to snare some aquatic prey.  It breathes through the end of its long abdomen, by the way.  It can dive and hunt underwater, too.  Mohsin toys with it so that it dives in, then holds his smartphone beneath the surface to get some footage of it swimming. 

Dusk has settled as we walk back, and we turn on our headlamps.  Along the way Mohsin spots something.  We gather around as he points out a possum mouse.  Shortly thereafter, he points out another.  They are incredibly cute.

Possum mouse photo found online:


We return to the ecolodge, remove shoes and socks, and start cleaning up for dinner.