Capuchin from the beach

Capuchin from the beach


Waterfall in the jungle

Through the Rabbit Hole

In the photo — a white-shouldered capuchin. Took this pic in Manuel Antonio, Costa Rica a week ago. At that moment, a troop of at least 40-50 monkeys stormed the beach: they were everywhere. Scrambling through bags, one started to pull out a towel but couldn’t manage it. They’ve already figured out how zippers work. Capuchins have rather scary sharp teeth, but it seems they don’t use them on people without reason.
While preparing this post, I decided to read up a bit about them. Turns out, they practice so-called “self-anointment” — they rub their fur with crushed ants or centipedes. The chemicals (like formic acid) released by these insects act as a potent insecticide, deterring parasites. Also, if a capuchin finds a lemon or wild onion, it will crush them into a pulp and thoroughly “perfume” itself with the juice.
Capuchins have very complex social bonds, which they maintain in very specific ways. They have “trust testing” rituals that might seem odd to a human. Two monkeys can sit and alternately stick their fingers deep under each other’s eyelids. This is the supreme form of trust — “I allow you to hurt me because I trust you.” Also, they can insert their fingers into each other’s nostrils and sit like that for a long time, entering a sort of trance. I’ll put links in the comments.


Bird from Costa Rica

Yuki catches a fleeing hare in our backyard. Very pleased today

A very typical palm for Costa Rican jungles. Hugging one of these is a bad idea. These black spikes are incredibly sharp, hard, and can reach lengths of 10-15 centimeters. They are arranged in dense rings along the entire trunk. The most treacherous thing about these spikes is their fragility and dirt. If a person or animal runs into such a spike, the tip easily breaks off and remains deep in the wound. Since in the tropical climate these needles are home to millions of bacteria and fungi, a deep splinter almost guarantees a serious, painful, and slow-healing inflammation.
The density of the needles varies, sometimes the trunk is not visible behind them.
Such was the case in the series Pluribus.

This is a palm leaf in the jungle about 60-70 centimeters wide. I stopped and wondered how it is that beetles chew through to create such a pattern.
I mean, when you think about it, the answer is obvious. They make one hole in a folded leaf, and then the leaf unfolds, creating many holes – like a paper snowflake. Upon contemplating this, I realized that palm leaves grow as a “cigar,” a rolled-up tube. I didn’t know this, but the very regular holes leave no other explanation.
But there is another thing – the holes are a bit large for a beetle or an ant. Obviously, if they were to eat a leaf that’s rolled up into a tube, they would end up biting through several layers at once, because if they ate the layers separately, the structure wouldn’t appear as regularly. But their mouths aren’t huge enough, of course, to eat such multi-layered leaves.
Apparently, an ant or beetle was eating the leaf while it was still small. Afterwards, the leaf grows evenly throughout and, obviously, the hole increases along with the leaf. The holes don’t heal; the leaf is alive and grows. A hole made by a beetle could initially be only a couple of millimeters in size, but then it grows to the size of a finger.

When I climbed the volcano, there was nothing to see. I had to photograph what was visible
