CREATURES

I am one among many creatures here. Once Haiti had numerous animal species but many were hunted to extinction while others have disappeared along with their habitats due to the clear cutting of forests for fuel. Deforestation and the effects of the 2010 quake have also caused the majority of the country’s fifty amphibian species to be placed on the endangered list. Imported domestic amimals such as horses, cows and goats continue to be raised along with dogs and cats but less than forty mammal species remain on the Haitian side of Hispaniola. Aquatic species have also diminished – much of the coastal waters continue to be overfished – the smaller fish are culled causing many of the larger fish to seek food in deeper sea. And yet, on our campus citizens of the insect, reptile and marine population seem to proliferate around us – each playing their role in the theatre of natural selection. One night a security guard showed us a snake he had just killed – still shaken he explained that it was hanging from the bamboo roof just above him – he pulled it down with a garden rake and crushed its head claiming it was a viper with a deadly bite. But one of our colleagues said it was a harmless species of tree snake related to the North American garter snake that eats rodents. It looked formidable though – about a metre long with deep black colour and a little unsettling considering it lurks in roofs and trees and only comes out at night. Local snakes include the Tiburon Hog-nosed racer (hypsirhynchus parvifrons) and the Haitian Boa (epicrates striatus).

I have previously mentioned tarantulas – now I have seen six of them walking on the grounds at night after a rainfall or resting in odd places like on the wall outside my bungalow door. On one occasion my colleague who shared my bungalow called me into his room to look at the tarantula he discovered in his wardrobe. It was motionless – sitting on a shelf surrounded by black socks and tee-shirts – my first impression was that it had a noble bearing, it was bothering no one, perhaps it just wanted to take in the sights. Indeed, tarantulas may have been misunderstood over the ages – they won’t attack unless threatened – their bite is not lethal (although one species in Southeast Asia can kill with its poison) – and that their fearsome size and look may in fact conceal an inner gentleness. Another tarantula was seen in broad daylight crawling down the stonewall of one of the classrooms. It seemed like a distinguished gentleman in a walking suit out for a stroll – it had a shiny body and handsome grey stripes precisely arranged around its ample thorax. A student got up and quietly ushered the gentleman away without any fuss. On another occasion, a tarantula walked across our path as we were going to dinner. It ambled away when we shone a light on it, taking a detour to its destination. Unlike other spiders that can climb over leaves or scale blades of grass – this one pushed leaves away and ploughed through the grass making a commotion. Other insects in our vicinity include scorpions which I have not seen yet and flying roaches of which I have seen many – they’re hard to miss: at least five times a big as the common North American cockroach and about the size of a small Swiss Army knife. They’re clumsy flying machines resembling WWII bombers carrying a heavy payload.

Along the rough coast of our campus, a society of decopod rock crabs intermingle and strut – with their ten legs (two legs of the ten forming their antennae) they scale rock faces, negotiate any turn or corner, walk in any direction smoothly, tango-like, while keeping vigilant with their keen omni-directional eyes. One morning I watched as a mother crab emerged on the rock face with her baby crab, out for a stroll I thought. The baby crab was rambunctious, moving this way and that as any hyperactive child might do, until the mother struck in a scolding manner with one of her ten pointed legs to a tender point on the young one’s body. The young crab stopped with a jolt, and seemingly hung its head as if sulking. It followed slowly in this attitude behind the mother as she seemingly proudly walked away. Numerous among us are the small lizards– the geckos or “anoles” that inhabit the rooms, trees and spaces of our campus. There are many species of these friends in a vast array of colours and they are excellent disposal units of mosquitoes and other small insects. Some of them like the Jacmel Gracile Anole (Anolis marron) and the Hispaniolan Pale-bellied Curlytail (leiocephalus semilineatus) scurry about or pause to feign push-ups while displaying their splendid inflatable throats.