Attack of the wild boars, and our response

Written by Logan Sander, December 21, 2016 (edited by Laura)

This past week saw several new developments in our nursery. While the three of us were traveling we received disturbing news from Somaratne and Dr. Singhakumara: wild boars (ura) had ransacked our nursery, eating our banana, coconut and taro seedlings! The true extent of the damage wasn’t as bad as we had feared, and upon our return we were able to salvage several of the plants. Still, this meant we would need to take measures to counteract what had been our chief anxiety about the nursery to this point: wild animals. Coincidentally, the evening we received this news Laura and I had just visited the National Museum in Colombo and its fine exhibit on traditional agriculture and livelihoods. Aside from the obvious solution of fencing in our nursery, we saw a working model of a non-physical deterrent: a “water-ghost.”

The exhibit said that farmers had often used these “water-ghosts” whenever pest animals were eating or destroying crops. To operate, water pours into a piece of bamboo “pipe” until the bamboo’s chambers are filled, at which point its center of gravity shifts and the bamboo swivels downward, dumping its water onto the ground. With this, the center of gravity suddenly shifts again and the bamboo pipe swivels back, rapidly striking a rock. A half-coconut shell is loosely attached to the striking end of the bamboo, creating a high-pitched percussive effect on impact. This sound is supposed to startle and unsettle approaching animals. It’s unclear to me if this would be effective on wild boar, but in addition to a fence it seemed like a fine opportunity to give a water-ghost a try. It would certainly be fun to build and would give us another chance to showcase traditional appropriate technology in our homegarden.      
 

Piping water from our water-tank’s overflow to our nursery

The water-ghost took all of an hour to construct, with Tillekaratne and Somaratne’s help. We piped water from our water tank’s overflow (with our newly- made bamboo pipes) down to our nursery and into the water ghost. Success! Every 4.5 seconds the gentle sounds of birds and insects in our little valley are punctuated with a low-pitched popping sound – something like a whiffleball being struck by a hollow bat - audible from a distance (including the field station) but not at all unpleasant (so far...). Hopefully we read the right placard at the National Museum and this isn’t actually a wild elephant call! 

We chose to divert the stream of water flowing from the water-ghost into a small pond we constructed. We have been having trouble with our water system when we needed to water our plants; the rapid shifts in pressure when we open and close the valve on our water line tends to separate the plastic pipe somewhere up- valley. This can be incredibly inconvenient, as the water pipe is occasionally strung 20 feet above the river! The pond allows us to dip our watering can and avoid the use of the spigot and this dilemma altogether. We conveniently found a deep, pure clay deposit right at the edge of the river where we bathe. We used a few shovel- scoops of the clay to line a hole we dug and built up with rocks and then connected our new piping to fill the pond. So far, the seal appears to be nearly perfect – even with inflow turned off we don’t lose water out of the pond! 

Applying river clay to create a small pond

 

Nepenthes (pitcher-plant) stem used to lash sticks together

Our “water-ghost” and pond

Our other animal deterrent project was to build a fence. This was fairly straightforward: cut and bury posts, nail stringers between the posts and unroll and hang metal fencing. Most of the wood cut for the fence was from small, short-lived early-successional trees. We enclosed one section of the garden with 5’ chain-link fencing; another with 3’ chicken wire; and the final section left unfenced. The plants we know boars and other animals (mostly goona, or wild deer) like to eat go in the tall, chain-link fence. The other plants that show evidence of browsing (apparently from smaller animals) go in the shorter fence. Germinating seeds and unpalatable plants are so far unfenced. To us this seems like an economical and reliable method of making sure our nursery receives minimal damage from the local wildlife. Of course, an elephant would see our fencing as a feeding trough, but elephants are relatively rare in this valley. Locals report that there are two elephants that occasionally come here, but at intervals of a few years... We’ll keep our fingers crossed that we can have the homegarden planted out and established by the time they make the rounds again. Five days later and our nursery is much more secure (actually, a little prison-like), and just a little bit noisier...

Bringing chain-link fencing from the road to the field station

Building the fence. Posts were from fast-growing secondary species cut near the nursery

Wildlife exclosure or plant prison?

 

The completed “tall” fence

Working on the “low” fence

  P.S. It has been brought to our attention by a local researcher that our pond closely resembles a wild boar wallow. Expect updates as to our countermeasures’ efficacy... 

"Shopping" for lumber

 Written by Logan Sander, December 3, 2016 (edited by Laura)

Shopping for lumber is a little different when the nearest hardware store is two hours away and the final 20 minutes of the trip requires that we haul in our purchases by hand. Despite this, we still have many needs for processed lumber, from repairing the stairs that ascend the hill towards the field station to building the planter beds and other nursery infrastructure. To solve this problem (and because it’s what they’ve always done), people in Pitikele make their own boards from the trees in their homegardens and around their homes. In particular, whenever rot- resistant boards are needed for outdoor projects local people use kitul, or fishtail palm. Palms are an extremely important group of plants throughout the tropics, and in particular the kitul palm is both economically important and a keystone of Pitikele cultural life (more on the uses of kitul palms in a later post).            

Tillekaratne high in a tree after the kitul palm was hung up

Somaratne and Tillekaratne located several older kitul palms on the property and together we set about felling them. These trees had already flowered and were in various stages of mortality. The first tree was very large and was felled with a 2 man cross-cut saw. After releasing this tree from the stump, it fell directly into another large tree and a tangle of vines and branches – not the desired outcome. Our friends, however, were not phased – Tillekaratne promptly grabbed his axe and climbed the tree ours had fallen into. At this point, concerned for his safety, we tried all manner of communication (mostly non-verbal) to get him to come down to safety. He and Somaratne expressed a total lack of concern, and we eventually calmed down and let them proceed with their work. Swinging the axe with one arm and hanging on with the other, he deftly freed the kitul palm while managing to stay in the other tree... not something a forester sees every day in the woods! Once we were all back on the ground, we bucked the palm into the lengths we needed with the crosscut (about 8’) and Tillekaratne made a series of splits with the axe running the length of each segment. The core of a kitul palm is a wet, sweet- smelling pith: very soft and mushy. The outer wood, however, is extremely hard and rot resistant. With the fissures in place, Tillekaratne would twist his axe 90* (something that would break the thin strip of wood through the eye of the axes we’re familiar with in the States) while we jabbed and pried with the digging bar and poles, eventually splitting the 8’ segments into a several boards. The final step was to chop away the mushy pith with a mattock and Viola! We had twenty finished boards. These boards were hauled through the forest down to the nearby river, bound together by vines, and floated back to our nursery. Every part of this process was hard work, but our reward was valuable rot-resistant wood and a fascinating cultural learning experience. We turned two more palms into boards over those couple of days (with all five of us working) and that gave us enough lumber for our nursery beds and new stairs to the field station.

Logan and Blair bucking the kitul logs with a crosscut saw

Preventing the saw-blade from pinching while cutting to length

 

Splitting the bucked logs to make boards

A straight lengthwise split then twist & pry

 

Somaratne chopping off the soft pith

Laura chopping off the soft pith

 

Cleaning up freshly cut boards with various hand tools

 

Hauling the boards back to the nursery in bundles

 

River walking makes for easy hauling!

Tillekaratne's surprisingly strong son Tarindu also helped us out

  Several weeks later, we devised another small project for which we went “shopping.” We wanted to bring the overflow water from the field station’s water tank down to our nursery, so we could easily fill our watering can. For this, Tillekaratne suggested we use some of the larger bamboo growing along the riverbank. These seem to be clumping bamboo varieties, with a diameter of 4-6” and a height in excess of 40 feet. Similar to the kitul wood, we split the canes of bamboo with an axe and pehija (small hooked knife) and twisted ninety-degrees with the tool to split the stems along a line. In this case, we didn’t need more than two splits per cane, as we wanted to end up with open-faced irrigation “pipes”. Next, the solid nodes of each half of the cane were chipped out with the backside of the pehija blade. Within minutes we had several 20+ foot water pipes - much easier than preparing the kitul wood!    

Carrying bamboo canes down the Pitikele road

 

Processing the bamboo canes

Creating lumber out of trees from the land we live on is a first for me. In my work as a forester, I’ve decided which trees will be cut and sent to a mill. However, I’ve never cut those same trees, and I’ve almost certainly never purchased the products that those trees are used to create. Here in Pitikele, we’ve taken a task through to completion - from selecting trees to processing them to their final use in our nursery - much more satisfying than a trip to Home Depot.                

The beginnings of a homegarden: construction of a nursery

Entry written by Logan Sander

After a few weeks of getting oriented and familiarized with our Sri Lankan village life, we began work on our homegarden plant nursery. For us, the nursery will be one of our primary work sites, a place where we can grow, multiply and nurture along the plants that will come to make up our homegarden, tea fields and any other forestry or agricultural project we undertake. Under the guidance of Professors Ashton, Gunitelleke, Singhakumara and our caretaker Somaratne, we selected a site for the nursery near the field station on a flat alluvial terrace next to the stream. In this location we have ready access to water and any construction materials we might need. In many ways the proper functioning of a nursery is as much a social consideration as an ecological one – we expect to visit the nursery several times a day to check on and water plants. It’s important that the nursery be conveniently located, otherwise it’s all too easy for the spontaneous nature of our day-to-day lives here to lead to neglecting the plants. Forgetting to water germinating seeds on a single rainless day could result in their demise (admittedly, rainless days seem rare here in the “rainforest”).             After a rough delineation of the site, we set about clearing the area. Somaratne led the way, showing us how to use the local machete-equivalents (pehiyas and katas) to cut away small trees and ferns. We chopped and raked roots with the idella, a large hoe-like tool used locally for everything from mixing cement to maintaining rice paddies. While crashing around in the bushes we found a small mine, which pretty much consists of a vertical hole in the ground, about 2 meters square. This province (Sabaragumara) is renowned for the gems buried beneath the shallow soils. Several streets in the provincial capital of Ratnapura (“City of Gems” in Sanskrit) are filled with small-scale gem miners and merchants. We also came across a few polybags scattered amongst the leaf litter – apparently ours isn’t the first nursery to be located here! In terms of light management, we cut a few large branches of adjacent trees

Logan axing a tree to provide more light to the seedlings

that blocked light to the ground where our plants will be located. Our closest neighbor, Tillekaratne, and his climbing skills came in handy for this. Within seconds of deciding what to cut he had sprung up the tree, cut the limb, and slid down the trunk like it was a fireman’s pole. At ground level, we retained most of the seedlings of the late-successional trees (mostly Dipterocarps – a subject for a later posting). These seedlings won’t interfere much with light reaching our nursery beds, but will become the future forest when the nursery is eventually abandoned (hopefully after many years of good use!). Ultimately, we ended up with a 15m x 20m clearing that permits at least half of the sunlight to reach our plants. If we need to, it will be easy to expand the nursery into the secondary forest. 

Tillekaratne climbing a tree to cut branches

 

Next, to build the nursery beds, we needed some wooden boards. The plants in our nursery will be grown in polybags – 4-6” diameter, 8-10” long tubes of black plastic sealed at one end with a few drainage holes poked into the bottom. As a result, our nursery beds simply provide a structure to hold the polybags upright and make it a little easier to organize our inventory. We decided on a rough size (8-10’ long, 4’ wide – for ease of watering/weeding) and set off into our forest to cut two large kitul palms to make into wooden boards (more on this in the next post: “’Shopping’ for lumber”). After moving the finished boards to the nursery we quickly built the beds: two short boards, two long boards, and 10-20 handcrafted wooden stakes to hold them in place. Within a few hours, and after some minor work modifying a nearby hose, we had 10 nursery beds complete with a central water spigot!           

Constructing the nursery has been a highlight of our time here so far. This modest project represents one of the more tangible pieces of work at this stage in our experience, a welcome change from the endless ups and downs of learning Sinhala and adapting to a new culture. Each day was filled with lessons and laughter from our local teachers, the rise and fall of the sun, evening rain showers, the hooting of our neighborhood monkey troop, and the intermittent excitement of a snake, a gaggle of foraging birds, or the sighting of a wild orchid. We purchased very few materials, instead relying on the resourcefulness of our local friends and the vast storehouse of natural materials from the land. Most of the work was done with commonplace tools and was of simple, common sense design. Any anxiety we felt was self-imposed: the stresses of industrial society seemed distant and far away - no blaring horns or diesel exhaust in Pitikele! Evenings were spent practicing our language skills (or lack of skill) with our friends and reading under the spacious veranda.          

Beginning planter bed construction

Pounding stakes for bed construction

   

Gathering soil adjacent to secondary forest

 

soil site with a screen for sorting out rocks

While we are satisfied with the start we have made, our work is only beginning. Thinking ahead, I can imagine several larger efforts and hundreds of smaller tasks to accomplish before we have a functioning, educational homegarden.   

Hauling soil to the nursery

To give an idea of how long all of this took, here’s an approximate time summary (usually with at least 3-4 people working): 
-Clearing the site: 1 day
 -Cutting Kitul palms and processing them into boards: 1.5 days  
-Building the nursery beds, bringing water to the site: 0.5 days 
-Gathering, processing, mixing and hauling soil and sand: 2 days 

After mixing the rich organic soil with river sand, we planted seedlings

Blair and Tillekratane after a long day of work

 

My first broken bone

A morning descent to the river for a swim on November 20th went awry when I stepped down onto a root and slipped sideways. My left pinky finger got caught on something and I heard a crack... After a moment of shock, I moved down into the river to keep the hand cool while I assessed how bad it was. (Silver lining side note: As I sat there, a European otter swam by about 4' in front of me and stuck his head out to look at me before continuing on!) After a short time, Logan and I decided I needed an X-ray. At that time, I was hoping it wasn't broken, but expecting it probably was. We "zipped" to a surgical hospital in Colombo, which took about 5 hours with a private driver... Unfortunately the old Jeep that we started the journey in wasn't licensed to drive on the freeway (that route is more like 3.5 hours). Although there are cities that could have done an X-ray closer, it didn't seem urgent and we suspected the best doctors are probably in Colombo. Plus, Dr. Singhakumara was kind enough to navigate the hospital system, arrange our accommodations, and involve his daughter, who has just finished medical school and is starting her internship. We were escorted through X-rays, a doctor's consultation, and a surgical consultation at a private hospital all without waiting and the whole visit cost about $15. They even gave me fresh squeezed orange juice and an egg salad sandwich with the crust cut off 😉 So, I have a spiral fracture in my 5th metacarpal (I broke the bone in my hand under my left pinky).

X-ray showing the spiral fracture

The surgeon there gave me a choice between a slow non-surgical recovery and a fast surgical recovery. Thinking a second opinion would be helpful, the next morning the Singhakumaras made some *amazingly connected* calls and we were able to take my X-rays to the top surgeon in Sri Lanka (he has performed surgery for the country's President). This surgeon said with absolute certainty that surgery was not necessary and that my hand would heal fine on its own. What a relief! Our family doctor in the states also looked at the X-rays and agreed. So, since that visit, I've been back to Colombo twice for more X-rays, a cast, and follow-up and it sounds like I'll have to make at least two more trips. Everything is healing well and although my activities have been severely limited, I'm still keeping busy and in high spirits. It sounds like I should be out of the cast around New Year's.

My half plaster cast

Getting orchid plants from our neighbor with cast in tow