This Clay Lick's for the Birds!

Traveling to the Peruvian Amazon rain forest meant I saw many new things each and every day. One of those new things was a clay lick. Before this trip, I had no idea what a clay lick was or why birds would visit it. By the end of the trip, my knowledge of tropical birds had grown, and I was fortunate enough to make two trips to a clay lick. What I saw amazed me.

My group’s sojourn into the rain forest took us to the Tambopata Research Center (TRC). While providing tourists with ecological opportunities and adventures, it also functions as a working research facility where the main focus is macaws. TRC is located close to a sizeable clay lick. The most basic description of a clay lick is that it’s a cliff of clay where birds, such as macaws and parrots, come to eat. Researchers think the birds do this because the clay helps neutralize the toxins from other foods they eat, such as berries. However, the research on clay licks is still being conducted in the field.

Going to the clay lick involved an early wake-up call because we left TRC at 5:00 a.m. We needed to be in place at the clay lick observation area before the birds arrived. The clay lick was not accessible from TRC by foot, so we took boats to the viewing area. The boat ride was just a short ten minute jaunt down the river. Our journey to TRC had been a total of eight hours on the boats, so ten minutes seemed miniscule in comparison.

The first morning we went to the clay lick, it was still dark. The sun had just started to peek over the horizon, and the color of the sky against the outline of the forest was like a scene from a painting. We loaded into the boats and headed for the clay lick. I wore my knee-high rubber boots, but I took them off for the boat ride. The guides told us that if we happened to end up in the river, the boots would fill with water and drag us to the bottom. So, I always took them off when I was in the boat.

The river was shallow in places, and as we maneuvered to the clay lick, we hit a set of rapids. I thought for sure we were going to capsize as the boat rocked from one side to the other. I grabbed hold of the sides and held on for dear life. All I could think about was what I would do if I ended up in the water. I was glad I had taken off my boots! The boat driver and our guide in the front, whose job was to push us off protrusions in the river, handled the situation with ease, but I was glad when we reached shore.  It was the only time in all of our boat rides that I felt afraid.

Once we were ashore, we had to walk for five minutes to get to the viewing area for the clay lick. We each had to carry a little aluminum folding chair as well as our own backpacks. The viewing area was across from the clay lick with an inlet from the river in between. We set up the chairs, and then we waited.

Mealy parrots and blue headed parrots at the clay lick

There wasn't anything to do at this point except wait for the birds to arrive. We could hear birds and monkeys in the forest, and occasionally we would see birds fly in the sky. At one point the howler monkeys started to make noise, and they sounded like a freight train. The other birds and monkeys joined in until they all made the most awful din. And then...it started to rain. I was shocked by this because it seemed as if the animals knew the rain was coming, and so they called out their warnings to the surrounding area. I don't know if the animals’ calls were a coincidence or not, but it was a surreal moment for all of us. The rain didn't last long, but it was heavy enough that I was glad to have my raincoat and umbrella with me.

Finally, the birds showed up at the clay lick, and they all came at the same time. They swooped in and out to eat the clay. We saw about five different types of parrots and three different types of macaws. The guides had brought along a telescope, and through it we could see the birds well. When they were done at the clay lick, some of them perched in nearby trees, so we studied them even more. After awhile, all the birds flew away, and we wondered what had triggered their departure. The entire spectacle left me with the impression that the birds were purposed and coordinated in their visit to the clay lick. We humans were the ones who wanted to try and understand the meaning behind it.

Bats....Why Did It Have to be Bats?

 

Of all the things in this world that I am afraid of, bats are close to the top of my list. So, I should have known that I would have some bat encounters on my trip deep into the Peruvian Amazon rain forest. I didn’t want to have to face my fear, but once I got to the rain forest, I realized there would be no escape. There were bats, lots of them.

One of the many bats in the rain forest.

The first place our group stayed, CECCOT, was rustic. It didn’t have running water, electricity, or flushing toilets. The cabins were all open air. This would not have bothered me too much except for the bats. They roosted in every cabin, including mine. When I realized this, I knew that these three days were going to be long ones.


The first time I walked into the cabin and saw bats flying, I turned right around and ran out as fast as I could. It was daytime! Bats are nocturnal. I could not believe they were active during the day. I guess we must have disturbed the sleeping bats, and so they decided that flying around in the cabin would be a good thing. Thank goodness for my cabin-mates, Julie and Sue. I called them my "bat buddies." They helped shield me from bats as best they could. I don't think I would have survived without them.


The bats didn't just fly around at the ceiling. Oh, no. They liked to fly back and forth under our beds, too. I would often stand by my bed only to feel the wind on my legs that was created by their wings as they flew back and forth. That was nearly enough to send me into a panic attack. When we brushed our teeth each morning, we all stood by the side of the cabin wall, brushed, and then spit the toothpaste over the wall onto the ground. I got “buzzed” by a bat every time I brushed my teeth. By the second day, I learned to keep my eyes closed while brushing so I wouldn’t see the bats flying around my head.

If I had to go back to the cabin by myself, I felt some trepidation because of the bats. I would stand at the door and open it slowly to peek in and see if any bats were on the move. If they weren't flying, then I could enter the cabin with confidence. If they were flying, then I had to make a decision. How badly did I need to go into that cabin? Sometimes I ran in, grabbed my things, and scooted right back out the door. There were a few times that I didn't go in at all. I decided that whatever I needed wasn’t important. There was more than one occasion when I didn't think the bats were around, and I went into the cabin. They started to fly, and I ran right back out the door. I’m sure my jumping around and shouting outside the cabin was a funny sight to anyone who might have been watching.


The best time to be in the cabin was right after night had fallen because the bats weren't in the cabin at that time. We liked to say, "They were out for dinner." During that time, I would take a shower (in traditional camp shower-type fashion) or do anything that needed done in the cabin because I knew it was a "bat free" time. That's not to say I never ran into them after dark. I could hear them flying around during the night as they ate insects. I am thankful that we slept under mosquito nets. The safety of the net, plus the fact that I wore earplugs while I slept, helped me get a good night's sleep.


The last two places we stayed on this trip, Refugio Amazonas and the Tambopata Research Center, did not have as many bats. They had netting in the ceilings that kept the bats from roosting up there, so I only came in contact with bats when they flew around at night. After CECCOT, I felt that I could handle the nighttime flying and feeding. There was one night, however, that I woke up at 3:00 a.m. to loud screeching. It was the bats. I even heard them while wearing my earplugs. Talk about the stuff of nightmares (at least for me). I knew I couldn’t do anything about them, though, so I put the pillow over my head and went back to sleep. That's when I knew, that while I still wasn't fond of bats, I had come a long way in just a few short days. I was way out of my comfort zone, but I was surviving.