A day in field reviewing camera traps consists of three major parts, getting there, doing the work, and getting home. The middle portion is by far the most fun, but I manage to make the bookends enjoyable by entertaining myself with podcasts. A few days ago, I was on my way to a combination security/wildlife monitoring project that spans two different properties in the coastal mountains of Guanacaste. The podcast I happened to be listening to while making my way to the first property was one examining the topic of luck and how it influences one’s life.
Inspired by what I was listening to, I started considering the impact of luck in my own life, and I concluded that I’m one lucky guy. I was born into a loving family, I met the love of my life at 16, I live in one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever seen, and I’m pursuing a job that I’m intrinsically interested in. On the grand scale of life, I’ve been very lucky. Before arriving at my destination, I decided I was going to pay attention to how lucky I was on the small scale of the few hours I was in the field that day.
Everything started out swimmingly. All of the cameras, both the ones aimed at recording wildlife and those aimed at catching trespassers, worked properly. No stolen cameras or malfunctions. On top of that, I saw a newborn mantled howler monkey playing in the branches of a tree with its mother, I got closer than normal to a tamandua that was scaling a small tree, and I happened upon a bone with an entire nine-banded armadillo foot attached to it (while most people would consider this gross, I consider it quite lucky).
Pleased with how my day was going to that point, I hopped in the truck and continued to the second property where there were a handful of security cameras to review. I checked the first camera without incident and then continued to the entrance to the property along a mountain road. I parked my truck along the road where I quickly found my camera had been stolen. For sure this wasn’t an example of good luck, but it’s to be expected while attempting to surveil an area where creepers are known to creep, so I accepted what happened and started looking for a new location for a camera.
After scouting around a bit, I decided the best spot was going to be about ten feet up a tree on the opposite side of the road; maybe the trespassers would be less likely to notice a camera over there. I set my backpack at the base of the tree, took my machete out of its sheath, and took a solid thwack at a small vine that needed to be cut if I was going to make my way up the tree. As soon as my machete hit the trunk of the tree, a heard a loud buzzing noise and a small black cloud arose from the base of the opposite side of the tree.
I immediately knew it was bees, and I knew I was in trouble. They went right for my head. I had my machete in one hand and the sheath in the other. I abandoned my bag and took off. I burst out into the street (luckily no cars were coming) swinging both items in my hands while getting stung in the head and back.
I went for the passenger side of the truck, but when I pulled on the handle, it was locked. With the bees all around me, there was no time to dig around in my pockets for keys, so I dropped everything and sprinted up the middle of the road. They were all around my face, so I took my hat off to swing it at them, but I dropped it after the first swing. I kept running for 50 meters or so, getting stung and slapping at my attackers with both hands.
I stopped, thinking I had gone far enough, but in a few seconds more bees were all around me. I pulled a small tree out of the ground on the side of the road and started swinging it around wildly while running farther away. At a hundred yards I stopped again, all stung up and completely out of breath. I tried to think about what to do, but then the bees found me again and sent me running even further.
Eventually, I found myself about 150 meters uphill on the road looking down at the truck that I knew I couldn’t get anywhere near. At this point, cars started to drive by periodically, running over my hat which sat in the middle of the road and then looking at me, the crazy looking, out of breath, sweaty guy with a small tree in his hands, looking dazed on the side of the road.
I knew this area didn’t have cell service, but I took out my phone anyway, because what else was I going to do? Luckily, the bees happened to have chased me to a spot with a little reception. I called the only guy I knew in the area for help and within 20 minutes he had one of his employees arrive on a motorcycle with a beekeeping suit in a box.
Then this guy, who I had never met before, volunteered to put on the suit and rescue my backpack, which was still being swarmed by bees, while I sprinted into the safety of my truck. Once we were both at a safe distance, I thanked him profusely. His reaction was a combination of happy to help, with a side of ‘What’s this gringo doing out here?’
As my bee-suit savior got on his moto and drove away, I turned on the truck and started heading to the next camera. I started playing the podcast again as I drove and couldn’t help but consider my luck. Yes, it was unlucky to choose to swing a machete at the one tree full of bees, but I had to consider all of the good luck that took place.
I didn’t get hit by a car while running like a maniac down the center of the road. I got stung a lot, but not too much. I got cell reception in an area where I never get signal. Most shockingly of all, a man with a motorcycle and a beekeeping suit was nearby and perfectly willing to come save the day. That’s pretty good luck.
