Wednesday, March 25, 2020

Of Singing Whales and Sparkling Spiders


Two weeks ago, our kids came to visit us here in Costa Rica (Tom and I were planning on staying just three weeks but we are still here at week five, but that is another story) which was the best sort of gift for Tom and me. Cici and Kiwi each brought boyfriends Dan and Morgan so with Clark there were seven of us staying at the casita.

One of the many benefits of their visit was that their keen senses and young minds caught details that Tom and I increasingly miss. One day, they observed a small school of rays surfing in the cresting waves at Playa San Miguel. Another day, Kiwi spotted a tiny tick crawling up her leg---that I couldn’t even see! They pick out bird calls that I can’t discern. The night sky, so full of stars, is apparently even more full to them.

One day at the beach, we all swam outside the breakers, floating on the soft swells and reveling in the warm water that enveloped us.  Kiwi and Morgan, always on exploration mode, dove to the bottom to observe the sandy floor habitat.  Suddenly, Morgan shot to the surface yelling, “Whale!”
He hadn’t seen anything but instead heard the unmistakable melody of a singing humpback whale.

We immediately took great gulps of air and dove down to listen to the haunting sounds. Over and over, we kicked towards the bottom to listen to the rising and falling groans, whines, and clicks that reached our ears. We were mesmerized.

Scientists have not yet concluded with certainty whether these males sing to attract a mate or to announce their presence to other males but at that moment, it didn’t matter. There was no telling how far away this animal was since sounds carries so well underwater, but it was breathtaking to imagine that somewhere in the same sea, not too far distant, a massive whale was singing a song to another----and we could listen in.

Stock photo courtesy of The Independent.co.uk

A couple of nights ago, Tom and enjoyed dinner at our neighbor’s house (the last before they went into isolation). We walked back home with only starlight and Tom’s headlamp to guide us. As we walked down our road, Tom started exclaiming that there were tiny jewels on the road and in the leaf litter along the side of the track. One after another point of blue-green light sparkled at him. I couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary. When he looked closely, each glittering gem turned out to be attached to the head of a rather bland-looking brown spider. They were everywhere!

As soon as I put on the headlamp (with bright LED bulbs), the jungle jumped out in tiny points of light. As long as the light was in our line of sight the little retinas (or whatever spiders have in their sophisticated eyes) reflected it back at us in a completely enchanting way. A little research revealed that these are a type of wolf spider, a night hunter that can be found all over the world---and revealed by light at night.

Stock photo courtesy of Whatsthatbug.com

The sheer numbers and geographic spread of the little hunters was problematic for an arachnophobe like Tom, but to give him full credit for bravery, we have gone out several nights since on successful spider safaris.