A long, long time ago lemurs roamed (jumped around?) the earth. Then the upgraded version – the “monkey” – came along and wiped them out. Except in Madagascar. It was isolated before the monkey evolved, so no monkeys ever made it here. And so the lemurs thrived.
Golden bamboo lemurs (named after the colour of the male) were discovered in 1986 in Ranomafana National Park. The area was protected in 1991 as it’s the only place in the world that you can see them in the wild. And I saw quite a few in the wild, jumping deftly through the trees between leafy meals:
Sleep (for 5 – 6 hours), eat, repeat. Seems like a good life to me. They’ll mate for life and live about 40 years. Females have one baby a year, after a 4-month gestation and the offspring reach maturity at about 5 years. Once they’re 7 or 8, they’ll leave the family group to start their own.
Red-bellied lemurs (named after the colour of the male – it’s definitely a patriarchy round here) are more rare. But I saw some of those, too.
Like the golden bamboo lemurs, they mate for life and have one baby a year. Gestation is a slightly shorter 3 months, and they’ll only live about 25 years.
Lemurs have good hearing, so they knew the tourist hordes were below. Shy creatures, they stayed in the treetops, hiding between the branches.
The ring-tailed mongoose came towards us, completely unfazed by our presence:
Native to Madagascar, the ring-tailed mongoose lives in the humid forests, mostly on the eastern side of the island. They eat small mammals, invertebrates, reptiles and occasionally insects and fruit. Unfortunately, numbers are declining due to habitat destruction *sob*.
Other amazing finds today included a leaf-tailed gecko:
A horn-nosed chameleon:
And a praying mantis:
An afternoon stroll to see the sights from our hotel, starting with the fairground which is apparently a daily occurrence and attracts gamblers and thrill-seekers alike:
Then through the market and across the bridge, stopping for crayfish and samosas at the half-way island:
Through a local village where the children were more pleased to see us than the adults. Kids wanted their pictures taken and would squeal with delight when they saw the image on Rudy’s camera:
I was expecting the night walk to be, well, a walk at night.
But as we approached, I knew it would be awful – dozens of tourist cars and a couple of tour buses signalled that this wasn’t going to be a pleasant experience.
The mouse lemur kept returning to the same branch, despite obviously not liking the bright camera flashes and torches that would suddenly flood his nocturnal world with light.
“Why does he keep coming back to the same branch?” asked Jo.
“Banana,” replied Lantu.
They were baiting the animals. This is a massive no-no – the animals learn that food is available so stop their usual behaviour and, over time, come to rely on the new, easy food source. Jeopardising wildlife is never justified, no matter how good the potential photo.
And that was why there was no entry fee to pay – this was very unofficial. And very lucrative for the guides who, I estimate, earned about 5,000 Ar for the day walk but 45,000 Ar for this “night walk”.
In the case of the mouse lemur, it dawned on me afterwards, with not a little horror, that the bright lights would almost certainly damage its night-sensitive eyes.
Gutted to be a part of the tourist problem, I resolved to write to the Bradt and Lonely Planet guides and request they include a warning – nowhere in my research was I warned about this bad practice, else I would never have gone. Hopefully by warning others, I can not only protect the wildlife in the future, but somewhat mitigate the damaging effect my visit had.
Less intrusive were the encounters with frogs:
A blue-legged chameleon (the colour was very subtle and hasn’t come out in the pictures, so you’ll have to trust me on this one):
A striped chameleon:
And a bird who’d found a comfy bed under the protection of a leaf… until Rudy spotted it (although the guide he pointed it out to then pretended it was her find!):
To bed with mixed feelings after an animal-filled day.
