H o w l s   O f   A   T r o p i c a l   N i g h t

This was the one and only time cosmic coincidence worked against me this trip. Come dawn they howled some more, and let me tape their voices. But I was beginning to feel an unusually close connection between humans and the natural world, and the howlers’ almost telepathic sense of when to stop their concert seemed right in line.

I was here as a kind of intellectual tourist, to see the places and meet the people who might be part of our upcoming educational activity. It had been a whirlwind of airports, meetings, contACTS, information—and my mind was reeling with sights and sounds. As the regular low rattles, croaks, and dry throbs of the forest night re-established themselves, I tried to figure out the best way to lie flat in my hammock (rather than slumbering bent like a crescent-moon!), and thought back over the trip so far, and especially what I’d seen and felt in the rainforest earlier that day.

Geoff’s Journals Howls Of A Tropical Night    1     2     3