LEMUR TRANSECTS with Xaali

Posted on 15 June 2010

S.-Xaali O’Reilly Berkeley was a Conservation Volunteer with Azafady on the Lemur Study module for 4 weeks in April 2010

“Woolly,” whispers the forest guide, stressing the last syllable and lengthening it in an almost french manner, while pointing into the midst of forest cover. “Woolly – see?” And before you can spot the first Woolly lemur, he’s gone slightly off the transect line and found another. How the Malagasy guides manage to spot the back of a small grey-brown lemur clinging to a tree trunk ten – maybe more or, if you’re lucky, less – meters away from the direction in which we are walking, through a mesh of leaves, bark, palms, and vines, remains a mystery to me and certainly still seems to amaze even Azafady’s conservation staff.

After noting down the number of lemurs, their sex, their activity and reaction, and other details such as information about their surroundings and the day, it’s time to move on and continue walking slowly and silently along the previously marked transect line, stopping every 50 meters to write down GPS co-ordinates and the time.

A great deal of the work I did whilst volunteering for Azafady’s lemur studies project consisted of lemur transects; sometimes it can be a bit frustrating – when after days of pushing through rainforest in the heat of the subtropical sun not a lemur has been seen –, but it’s incredibly rewarding when you do find, not just one, but maybe several in one morning. Whether you see any lemurs or not, however, transects are an opportunity to see what else the forest has to offer, and it is equally important to record any “unsuccessful” transects – although, after four weeks of them, both with lemur sightings and without, I am yet to label any so harshly – to know when species are most likely to be active and so try to better understand their behaviour and habits, their place in the ecosystem, as well as their needs and how best to protect them.

After a morning in the forest, a hearty lunch of rice and beans is served back at camp around midday, after which you have a couple of hours free time (once the dishes are done) before a Malagasy lesson and the afternoon “shift” – usually another forest survey, down a different transect line.

Usually there is time for a good bucket shower – which, despite the brown colour of the water you pump from the well, is surprisingly inviting once the day’s work is done – before dinner and dark, which usually coincide with applaudable precision at six o’clock. After washing up there’s time to chill out and, since there can be more than one conservation module running at once, time to debrief, so everybody is kept up to date. Occasionally there is the option to go on a night walk, an excellent chance to catch a glimpse of nocturnal wildlife.

Although there isn’t a “bed-time”, everybody – from volunteers to staff – tends to start retiring to their tent fairly early (in comparison to Western standards) to get a proper rest before breakfast at 6 AM and heading back out to work around 7 AM.

If there’s one thing I regret about my time volunteering for Azafady, it’s having signed-up for too short a time: after having spent four weeks in the bush, in such an incredible place, with its amazing people (whether Azafady staff, volunteers, or locals) and the astounding wildlife, I was gutted to go home and could have happily stayed another six weeks till the scheme’s end.