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Belize Reflection: Tropical Field Biologist Training Complete

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Since returning to Houston, I’ve become a surprisingly effective multitasker. Now I can reflect on our incredible Tropical Field Biology trip (and even write a blog!) while itching my sand fly bites. Every minute in Belize was packed with learning, from niche ecological interactions like epiphytes strangling host trees, to foundational ecological concepts, such as the crucial role of nitrogen in ecosystems and how it’s more abundant in the leaf litter of forest floors.

But what made this learning unforgettable was how we experienced it – though fun and freakish ways like working with our own pee. Experiencing ecological concepts through hands-on experimentation made them so much more vivid, real, and memorable than any diagram or paragraph ever could. Learning by doing, we all became jungle explorers and reef divers, adventuring to the fullest soaking up knowledge everywhere we went. 

As a part of this class, I became the taxon expert on two interesting and seemingly unrelated groups: epiphytes (non-parasitic plants that grow on other object for support) in the rainforest and sponges (not the synthetic kind) on the sea floor. I choose them because they seemed super cool and were unfamiliar to me, but I didn’t take notice of the extreme similarities between them. After all, they lived in nearly opposite ecosystems and were from two entirely different taxonomic kingdoms (plants and animals). What traits could they possibly share?

As it turns out, far more than I expected. Both rely on external surfaces to latch on to, without typically harming their hosts. Certain species of epiphytes and sponges can reproduce asexually by growing genetically identical organisms from a piece of the original. They are also highly resourceful, pulling in nutrients from their surroundings, with epiphytes capturing from the air and debris and sponges from filtered water. And some epiphytes and sponges even excrete chemical defenses (phytochemicals for epiphytes) to ward off predators and compete for space. Despite living in drastically different environments, both fill their own unique, specialized niches and employ similar living strategies, proving that successful survival and living adaptations rise above ecosystem classifications.

As we transitioned from the rainforest to the jungle, we were trying to identify the “ants of the reef.” While no reef organism seemed to match the ants’ sophisticated behaviors of fungal garden cultivation and eusocialty, some shared a few similar traits and adaptations. For example, both ants and hermit/land crabs burrow into the ground and create networks of tunnels for living and refugee from predators above the surface. These are examples of convergent evolution, which are similar adaptations or behaviors evolving in entirely different environments.

Beyond specific adaptations, elements of the rainforest and reef often resemble each other in their physical nature. Leaves in the canopy swayed in the breeze like sea fans in the current. But my response to the sun in both ecosystems was loading up on electrolytes and shading myself with long sleeves and broad rimmed hats. Both ecosystems baked under the same tropical sun, with rainforest epiphytes reaching higher ground to chase light, and island reptiles seeking shader to escape it. Though my response to the sun in both locations was loading up on electrolytes and relying on my broad-brimmed hat. We ventured through two ecosystems that seemed infinitely different at first glance but upon further examination, hosted organisms with remarkably similar survival strategies in the face of competition for space and resources and abiotic constraints of sunlight, precipitation, and water storage. 

DSCF1655 (1) (Waving Sea Fans – 05/25/25)

I think that this course exceeded every expectation and scenario I crafted in my head. I imagined we’d be perusing around the rainforest and snorkeling while stopping to discuss species ID and conduct experiments. Nothing could’ve prepared me for how intriguing, weird, and unique the experience would actually be. I wouldn’t have dreamed about seeing textbook examples like ant fungal gardens or Cecropia tree ant apartment complexes, which seemed too exotic, rare, and far off from our realities. 

DSCF1315 (1) (Cecropia Apartment Complex – 05/19/25)

I have to say that some of my favorite moments were trudging through the crunchy, leafy trails, getting to know classmates while laughing so genuinely at the crazy, absurd parts of our trip and the nerdy eco-jokes we created – running away from bright green light-in-the-dark beetles; the distinct and recognizable feline smell (cat pee) in different places and our hopes for spotting a jaguar or puma; and the yummy snacking termites. 

Now back in Houston, I’ve already found myself sharing Belize stories over lunch. Today, I explained leaf-cutter ant fungal garden cultivation to my friend Joseph while showing him a picture of the fungal garden we dug up – the perfect, most appetizing lunch conversation. Yesterday, the TFBs still in Houston went out for ramen and reminisced about inside jokes and crazy animals and species interactions we learned about. We passed by a plant shop on our walk to the restaurant, saw epiphytes lining the windows and walls, and couldn’t help but pose for a selfie, knowing that it would end up in my reflection blog. The ecological facts and experiences are fresh in my mind and ready to be shared in my everyday conversations. 

(Houston Plant Shop with Epiphytes! – 06/01/25)

I see the concepts we learned about everywhere, especially with epiphytes. It’s exciting to recognize them in Houston, though the diversity here is much lower. This is probably because these is less diversity in Houston vegetation in general, as most of the green was probably plants intentionally after the natural coastal prairie ecosystems were moved down and replaced by cement. Because the trees are less diverse, it would make sense that the specialized epihpytes that live on them are also far less diverse, with the two most common types I’ve seen being Spanish moss and the Resurrection Plant. Both live on the live oaks around campus, so it’s a daily treat to see them on my walks. 

(Resurrection Plant on Rice Outer Loop – 05/31/25)

I’ve picked up some valuable life lessons too. I now keep electrolyte packets on hand whenever I work at the garden under Houston’s blazing sun, which is still much less intense than the Central American sun. I also am super thankful for the luxuries of cold, refrigerated water, clean (nonsandy) sheets, and clean underwear. 

(Electrolyte Packet Order – 06/01/25)

But most of all, I’ve learned to treasure the beauty of green spaces, the peace of waking up to birdcalls, and having much to learn from the infinite wisdom shared by local experts and natural guides. Whether spotting the national flower of Belize (the Black Orchid) growing on a tree trunk or tasting jungle snacks and remedies like sour leaves for liver health or vine water on a hot day, the experiences of Belize were such a gift. 

Peace out,

Lily H. 🙂 2025

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Belize Day 15: Back to Civilization

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With our suitcases in hand, we lay on the dock one last time, watching the schools of fish drift peacefully beneath us. We had already munched on bread and peanut butter, said our thank yous to the incredible staff (especially the chefs) and the unmatched views, and bid farewell to dear Clivus (the compostable toilet). By 6:30 am, we were ready for the 70-mile boat ride back to Belize City. 

(View from Dining Room – 05/27/25)

Just as the engine roared to life, I reached for my music and realized my phone was missing. In a burst of panic, Elise, Sadhana and I took off running through the island checking every corner in search of it. It had been on our bucket list to go for a run, so this last-minute scramble felt stressfully perfect. We jogged back to the boat winded, and then we were officially on our way. 

The three-hour ride passed in a blur of sleep, waves, and staring into the distance. Our captain spotted a sea turtle, and we passed by several islands. Some boasted polished resorts and others had quiet little villages. I noticed that one island had no trees, no shade, and sun-bleached roofs and walls. It looked a bit deserted, cooked by the heat, and I wondered if there was anyone there. 

Then, in the distance, I saw a big island, with… cars??? Buildings grew larger, highways became visible from the shore, and I wondered how people brought vehicles to and island and why. Then, I saw no end to the island and realized it wasn’t an island at all. We had arrived at our mainland destination: Belize City. 

(Giant Island aka. Mainland Belize City – cruisemapper.com)

Our boat docked a very elegant hotel. I didn’t even need to use the bathroom, but I went anyway  to experience a non-compostable toilet. The bathroom was glorious experience, with a sink for washing hands and even some music – truly luxuries. On our drive back to the airport, we revisited familiar ground, like the department store we’d stopped at the week before, scattered resorts, the Central American flag monument near the airport, and the small runway lined with tiny planes and a few commercial jets. I took mental screenshots of it all, trying to lock in the memories our class made together and everything we learned about Belize. It is truly a remarkable place filled with wild beauty, from deep in the rainforest to far out in the reef- (and sponge-!) filled sea. 

(Going Home – 05/30/25)

Peace Out,

Lily H. 🙂 2025

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Belize Day 14: Fish are Friends, Not Food… Unless they’re invasive

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Armed with dull fabric scissors, we pressed into the scaly skin of a dead lionfish until we finally cut through. Then came round two; we sliced the stomach itself until tiny fish flopped out. It was a truly gutty process: full of fish guts and requiring real human guts to stomach it.

(Lionfish Dissection – 05/29/25)

Dr. Evans and Dr. Solomon had caught wild, invasive lionfish from the surrounding reefs for both science and cuisine. First, we performed dissections to better understand their anatomy, what adaptations make them such ruthless predators, and what native fish they’ve been stealing off our reefs. My group’s lionfish had four small guppy- or wrasse-looking fish in its belly. Sam’s had a wrasse too, which he took as a personal offense since wrasses were his study taxon.

One of the main issues with lionfish that make them unstoppable invasives is that they have no natural predators in the ecosystems they enter. That, and they reproduce rapidly, laying up to 2 million eggs per year. These spiny invaders are ecosystem wreckers. So, we turned them into both a science lesson and a meal.

After we dissected and weighed the lionfish, the professors separated the edible flesh from the guts and cooked the fillets for us, served with lime, tomato, and plantain chips. Dr. Evans used the guts for another demonstration. He threw them off the dock to attract hungry fish and create a frenzy. Bonefish swarmed the remains, and even a nurse shark came by to investigate, though most of the scraps were already gone by that point.

I was feeling a bit fished out when the island staff came to the rescue. They had just gathered a wheelbarrow of…you’ll never guess…COCONUTS! My dream, my only heart’s desire. They were sharing the refreshing treat together, and I sprinted over to see if there were any extras. Luckily, there were many to spare, enough for the rest of the class. The water was so tangy and refreshing from the sun. What a lovely last-day treat and full circle from my day one of coco pleading. 

(Coconuts = Happiness – 05/29/25)

Later in the day, we helped the ecosystem in a different, abiotic way. Earlier, we’d seen shorelines littered with microplastics, so we grabbed trash bags and began collecting stray plastic bottles, broken shoe soles, and even a strange little plastic lamb toy. We became frustrated when fragile plastic shards shattered in our hands but were glad to remove them from the beaches before they could break down into even tinier fragments. Even with full bags, we barely made a dent, and this is all fairly recent trash, as they do host beach cleanups. 

(Trash Pick-Up – 05/29/25)

As a final goodbye to the island, we jumped off the dock for one last swim/snorkel, appreciating the refreshing and inviting crystal-clear water. I cannonballed in, followed schools of guppies and bonefish, and accidentally inhaled a little saltwater as an unexpected souvenir. I stayed near the seagrass beds, so I didn’t spot any sponges, but I took mental snapshots of every organism I could. A salty, perfect sendoff.

Peace out,

Lily H. 🙂 2025

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Belize Day 13: Crusin’ and Reef Perusin’

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I climbed back into the boat, seawater streaming off me in every direction. After taking a quick look around, I flopped over to reclaim my seat, but it already had an occupant. A giant lobster was lying smugly across the bench. I did a double take and just stood there, unsure of what to do, until someone casually picked it up and handed it to me. I took it, noticed it was hollow, and asked, “Uhh… what’s wrong with it?” Turns out, it was just an empty shell, so it sat on my lab for the rest of the way back. Lobsters molt, or leave behind their exoskeletons many times as they grow, until one day they grow too big to slip out, and that’s when their life ends. 

(Lucky Lobster – 05/28/25)

Today, we designed a research project to measure the effectiveness of Marine Protected Areas (MPAs) – government-protected zones – at maintaining marine diversity and reef health. As a class, we chose to focus on species diversity and algal growth as indicators of reef health. We visited a mix of MPA and non-MPA sites, randomly selecting reef patches to photograph for analysis back in the island’s wet lab. 

Sohee and I stuck together to collect data; I’d find the areas and she would snap the shots. We created a new hand-holding buddy system to keep from drifting apart for some efficiency and peace of mind. We were it in together, exploring the reef ecosystems while battling mild seasickness and weaving around jellyfish. Luckily, all the jellies we encountered were Moon Jellyfish, whose stings are mild and considered harmless to humans. Though, we didn’t know that at the time. 

We came across 3 stoplight parrotfish and a blue tang, excitedly shaking each other’s hands to point them out. In both MPAs and non-MPAs, sponges bedazzled the sea floor, latching onto rocks or coral. Any unease vanished as I duck-dived down like a mermaid for a closer look. I found more yellow rope sponges, scattered pore rope sponges, boring sponges, and even fire sponges, which have a nasty sting. And as a final treat, back in the boat, lobster in hand, our class watched in awe as a curious dolphin swam around us, interested in our strange, oversized, fish-like vessel.

(Duck Diving – 05/28/25)

(So Many Sponges – 05/28/25)

Back in the lab, we didn’t see much of a difference in reef health between the different sites, but we noticed that MPAs had a slightly higher average species count, suggesting they might offer a healthier and more supportive environment. 

After wrapping up our research project, we all sat by the dock to catch the breeze and escape the heat. Claire and I lay on our stomachs, peering at the ocean below through the gaps between the wooden planks and shielding our faces from the sun. The possibilities of what we might see felt endless, maybe a nurse shark, or maybe even a dolphin.

 

Peace Out,

Lily H. 🙂 2025

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Belize Day 12: Life in the Shallow End

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We hopped straight into the seagrass, and with fuzzy moss tickling our shins, we began to dance the stingray shuffle, dragging our feet from side to side (just like the Dune worm dance) to warn the stingrays we were coming. This morning, we searched the seabed for critters to observe and analyze in the wet lab. Recruiting all catch-worthy objects, we went in equipped with little fish nets, metal tongs, paper trays, and paint buckets. This was a team effort; half of the class stood in a circle to enclose a fish as one of us tried to scoop it up with a paper tray. 

Some of us went off to cover more ground. I shuffled further out in the grasses, and my water shoe bumped into a rock-shaped mass in the sand. I reached my arm in and pulled out a conch shell with a fish inside, but I accidentally poured out the fish while examining my catch. The feel-around and reach-in technique became my strategy, and my next finds included a bright orange sea snail, decaying logs, and a pipe used by the island. Our class also gathered a box jellyfish (it looked just like a wubble bubble), chilling in the shallow water near the mangroves; a decorator crab; a cute little shrimp; and several anchovy-looking fish that sadly died on us immediately due to a lack of oxygen. Adam, our cryptobenthic fish expert, explained to us that these tiny, floor-dwelling fish are so fragile because of their living strategy – reproduce more and live less. 

We spent the next half of our day exploring the coral cemetery – a stretch of shoreline filled with mounds of fossilized coral. Just like the limestone caves and soils of the rainforest, both the island and the surrounding coral reefs were built from the foundational element calcium. Though the fossilized coral had lost their vibrant colors, we identified 7 species from their distinct shapes, including elkhorn, brain, lettuce, finger, montastraea, and fan coral. 

(Coral Cemetery – 05/29/25)

As we made our way down the piles of calcium and closer to the shore, we saw the succession of life. Living species were growing in the low tide zone, fresh coral remains lay midway up the slope, and fossils sat at the top. I also saw a few washed-up chunks of sponge, which had the harsh, bristly texture and pale pink color and texture of an azure vase sponge. Lifting rocks sitting in the shallow water, we uncovered a spiny black sea star along with sea urchins scattered across the ground—like the little black fuzzballs from My Neighbor Totoro. 

(Sea Urchin Spotting – 05/27/25)

Our next stop along the trail around the island was a sand bank right outside the island, otherwise known as a mound of parrotfish poop. We looked into the peaceful horizon, listening to the crash of the waves, and stared out into the horizon. I saw a leaf-shaped object drifting nearby and scooped it up to discover that it was a tiny, lifeless baby pufferfish. The view out was gorgeous, but turning back towards our island, microplastics lined the shore left and right. We’re planning a trash pickup soon to do our part and protect this beautiful place. 

(Gorgeous Waters – 05/27/25)

(Microplastics – 05/27/25)

Peace,

Lily H. 🙂 2025

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Belize Day 11: What’s Washing Up on Shore?

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No contacts, vision blurred, sea breeze swaying you from one direction to the other. The urge to pee taking over. Stumbling blindly around the trail to Clivus, the compostable toilet. Dodging huge, mango-sized blue land crabs, silently and fuzzily praying they don’t charge. 

I’m wondering when I will have to face one of these blue crabs that rule the island by night. During the day, when they’re retreating back to their covers, they look too goofy to take seriously. They scuttle sideways, claws snapping open and shut, their tiny feet skittering across the ground. I hear Mr. Krabs whenever they walk. But in the night, they have the power to rob me of a finger or a toe. 

It’s crazy the kind of stuff that gets washed up on islands, including these outlandish blue land crabs. We’re 34 miles away from the closest land-based town and 70 miles out from Belize City, yet, life finds a way. Dr. Solomon saw a hummingbird buzzing around yesterday, and it is more common than not to stumble upon a spiny-tailed iguana, hermit crab, or blue land crab. It turns out land hermit crabs first arrive from the mainland as eggs. The mothers release them into the sea, where they hatch and begin life as tiny, drifting larvae. After several molts and a search for their first shell, they make the critical journey to land. 

(Hermit Crabbies – 05/26/25)

But the real reason we’re on this remote island is to be near Glover’s Reef, where we can explore marine biodiversity – not just island biogeography. Today, our mission was to trace the diet of parrotfish. We were investigating whether different species of parrotfish specialize in specific types of food, or if they’re generalist feeders that consume a broad range of items, including seagrass, algae, and coral. To study this, we conducted a fish follow survey, with each team tracking an individual parrotfish, observing its behavior to identify what it was eating. As Dr. Evans put it, now we’re doing “camera chases” instead of the “camera traps” we set up in the rainforest. 

DSCF1655 (Stoplight Parrotfish Feeding on Algae – 05/24/25)

Sohee and I felt some residual sea sickness from the day before, so we decided to stay in the shallow area and survey the seagrass for redtail parrotfish, who are known to consume sea grass. While we could not find any parrotfish, we saw 2 needlefish near the surface by the dock, a couple of snappers, and a nurse shark. I didn’t spot any sponges in the shallow seagrass bed – probably because there were fewer hard surfaces for them to attach to, and the water flow was much less compared to the reef. Luckily, Dr. Solomon found us a sea cucumber, my new obsession. These guys are thick, shiny, squishy rods with several bumps along their bodies that serve as little feet. Some have commensal symbiotic relationships with pearlfish, who swim up their anus and use them as protection without giving the sponge much in exchange.  I looked over, and Sadhana draped the sea cucumber over her forehead. She giggles and goes, “You know what they say, you are what you put on your head.”

DSCF1887 (Seagrass Snapper Spotting – 05/26/25)

Though the island life takes some adjustment, this tiny island is filled with and surrounded by so many ecological gifts, from intimidating land crabs to weird, cucumber invertebrates. After days of learning and getting our hands in the water, I adore relaxing with friends around the dock. We stare down at the ocean to watch creatures pass by underway or gaze up at the sky full of stars. With wind blowing our hair every which way, we breathe in the ocean life.

(Breathing in the Sea Breeze – 05/26/25)

Peace out,

Lily H. 🙂 2025

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Belize Day 10: The Reef Life of BIOS 319

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Staring contest – you versus Barracuda. Ready… go! I was snorkeling around the dock in the seagrass when I saw this noticeably long, skinny, sand-colored fish with a long snout below me. I had been trailing behind all of the conspicuous fish I saw (trying to experience a day in the life of a fish), but this guy didn’t keep swimming along once he noticed me. He froze and made intense eye contact. At the time, I didn’t know he was a barracuda, but his gaze made me pretty uncomfortable, so after a minute stare-down, I fled.

Moving on quickly, I scanned the seagrass to see what else I could spot. There lay a sea anemone, tucked away under the grass; true (shell-producing) crabs climbing around; and some tiny, rock-colored fish (likely gobies or blennies) weaving in and out of the grass stalks. When we first entered the water to practice snorkeling, the seagrasses seemed lifeless, dusty, and mossy, but after staring for a minute, their species richness, hiding in plain sight, revealed itself. Making our way back to the dock, we interrupted a massive (1-2 thousand) school of jackfish and saw a nurse shark swimming back and forth through the coverage of the seagrass. Today I learned that seagrass ecosystems are super underrated. 

After lunch, we squeezed on our super suits (our full-body, nylon watersuits) and boated out to the further reefs, with water clear as day and sponges galore. I was able to photograph and identify most of the sponges around with the help of my taxon ID sheet: yellow tube sponges, lavender rope sponges, scattered pore rope sponges, fire sponges, and chicken liver sponges. I’m guessing that it’s called that because it looks like chicken liver. 

Chicken liver sponge or Caribbean Chicken-liver sponge (Chondrilla nucula) undersea, Aegean Sea, Greece, Halkidiki

(Chicken Liver Sponge – IStock) 

 

(Yellow Tube Sponge – 05/25/25)

 

(Yellow Scattered Pore Rope Sponge – 05/25/25)

But all of the sun of the day cooked me a bit. Sohee and I swam over to the calmer seagrasses to fight off the sea sickness, where we continued to sea super neat organisms. When Dr. Evans came to check in on us, he set his hand down on a “rock” that jumped up and darted away, better described as a flounder fish. 

(Seagrass Pause – 05/25/25)

I’m excited to explore this new ecosystem, but without the shade of the rainforest’s tree canopy, I think I need to pace myself over these next few days to avoid shriveling up. I’m going to nap with a fan to replenish for a day of snorkeling (and sponge IDing!) tomorrow. 

Peace out,

Lily H. 🙂 2025

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Belize Day 9: Sun Rays and Coco Craze

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Ever since the plane touched down in Belize, I’ve been craving a fresh coconut. Now at Glover’s Reef, I’m a tree’s length away from complete happiness. As soon as we hopped off the boat, my eyes bounced from the nurse shark swimming under the deck to the mangroves lining the island to the coconut tree towering above the deck. I set down my bags and hugged the tree, trying to inch my body up. I tried a running start. I tried throwing pieces of dried coral at the coconuts. Nothing. Luckily, there were some old coconuts lying around on the ground. My friends came over to help, feeling the same coconut craving. We tried pounding the coconut with a conch shell. We tried throwing the coconut hard onto the sand. We tried banging the coconut on the edge of a cement stair. Luckily, this finally made a dent, and the warm, probably fermented, water dripped out for everyone to get a taste. 

TRS_0001 (Climbing for Coco – 05/24/25)

Our class regrouped in the central hammock area for a tour of the island (we – and the crabs – have the whole island to ourselves!). We walked through a trail lined with sand lilies and dotted with crabs and discovered a bowl of fresh mangos in the dining area. Nothing can beat the fresh fruit, marine biodiversity, and sea breeze of this little island. The only parts that will take some getting used to are Clivus, the composting toilet (a glorified porta potty,) and the jumping, biting sand flies. 

(The Crabs’ Island – 05/24/25)

(Clivus – 05/26/28)

The self-sufficient ecosystem here is incredible. Because the soil is sandy (it can’t hold freshwater) and saltwater constantly washes over the island during storms, the only vegetation that can grow here is the hardiest, most saline-tolerant, and undemanding plant, like a mangrove. Around the island, baby mangroves continue to take root and expand the island just for storms to shrink it back down – the island– it’s a never-ending struggle. 

(Baby Mangrove – 05/24/25)

I love hanging my feet off the deck and watching marine animals swim through the clear water. Before dinner, the whole class sat down on the dock in a line, identifying a school of bonefish and needlefish while breathing in the salty calmness. We’re all super excited to get past the dock and into the water tomorrow! After we get comfortable in our gear, we’ll boat to our “open aquarium” (the reef) where I’m really hoping to be able to identify some sponges, see parrotfish gnawing at coral, and experience the vibrant ecosystem. 

(Relaxing by the Dock – 05/24/25)

 

Peace,

Lily H. 🙂

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Belize Day 7: Peace Found

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We were on top of the world (a hilltop in the Maya Mountains). We lay in peace and gratitude on the wooden platform at the top of the bird tower, enjoying the breeze, watching the sun rays overcome the clouds, and listening to the chorus of bird calls. Out of the blue, we heard the buzzing of a bee growing louder and chuckled – even at the highest point we could reach, without a flower in sight, the bees get fomo and want to get in on the drama (or create it).

(On Top of the World – 06/23/25)

Today was our jungle wrap-up day ;,<. After a morning watching the sunrise at the top of bird tower, we trudged around collecting our motion sensor cameras and pointing out different species we spotted, appreciating the beauty we’d learned to see in the last week. 

During our descent up the steep steep hill in the morning, we stopped to catch our breath and a few termites to munch on (they taste like carrots!). A little while down the path, we spotted a shriveled frog in the middle of the trail. Because these guys breathe through their skin and need water to stay moist, they’re especially vulnerable to drought and don’t fare well during Belize’s dry season (December-May). We also saw a rare red brocket deer, I guess early birds get to see the most organisms. And later on in the day, 2 pairs of scarlet macaws flew overhead and an agouti popped its head out in the distance to wish us goodbye as we dangled our feet off the wooden deck and blogged. Just as we’re getting to know the forest, it’s getting to know us. 

To wrap up our week, we had a class watch party to sort through all of the pictures collected by the motion sensor camera. Though my camera took more pictures moving around inside my backpack on the way back than of organisms, our class’s cameras caught 3 pumas, many curassows (a pheasant-like bird), and a wild Sam strolling by, with the heaviest traffic actually being on human-disturbed paths rather than undisturbed jungle vegetation. Looks like no one here was taking the path less traveled, and I can’t blame them. We’ve tripped on floor vines and roots a few too many times. 

(Puma Spotting – 05/23/25)

We celebrated the completion of our last project with a little campfire, feeling comfortable and laughing about all of the ecology inside jokes and memories we shared. As I made my way back to the cabins, I said goodbye to all of the epiphytes I saw (the giant Philodendron sagittifolium leaves collaring the trees) and filled the final page of my jungle field notebook, feeling a quiet sense of completion. I’m ready to step into the next timeless chapter of this trip: Glover’s Reef.

(Campfire Close – 05/23/25) 

Peace,

Lily 🙂

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Belize Day 8: Traveling with Ecologists

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Life finds a way, even deep into the pitch-black, flooded cave of Actun Tunichil Muknal. This cave system is the most magnificent place to exist, with arena-sized chambers full of stalactites, glimmering formations, and Maya remains. We saw intact skeletons, smashed vases, and shiny rock (polished by tourists’ butts as they climbed down). Most surprisingly, there were little seedlings sprouting from bat droppings and growing from the rock dust lining the surfaces above water level. Though they soon perish without light to photosynthesize, they were a gorgeous contrast to the black, white, and red cave (this cave was lined with speckled red walls because of its high iron content). 

We also spotted a few dark black cave spiders, pale white cave catfish, and bats in their bellhole homes. These guys were better equipped to survive the darkness, with vision as we know it replaced with adaptations like echolocation and sensitivity to vibrations. 

But the cave also showed evidence of what once existed–Maya sacrificial pots and skeletons dotted the ground, helping us to piece together their cultural practices and societal conditions. It seems that as a major prolonged drought progressed, Maya offerings became more severe, progressing from young adults to children to babies, potentially showing their desperation as they offered purer and purer gifts. Also, many of the skeletons we saw were modified to show prestige, with compressed skulls that resembled heads of corn (and the god of corn and crops, One Hunahpu) and filed teeth with patterned crevices. It was even proposed that one skeleton was a hostage due to its position with its arms tied behind its back.

Even though the remains only reveal a skeleton of what once was, our archeologist tour guide brought the scene to life. I could vividly imagine Mayan people starting a bonfire in the cave, illuminating the silhouette of a god (from the shadow of a stalactite crystal), and praying for water. 

Fast forward 5 hours, we were in the darkness of nighttime, strolling through Belize’s lush, natural animal rescue zoo and being mowed down by wild green iguanas. We had just talked with this adorable river otter, offering it chicken as it squealed with delight, when we encountered a green lizard stuck on an electric fence with a bitten-off tail. To move it out of the way of the current, we poked it with a stick. In a frenzy, it flew off the fence and charged at Ian. When it realized it couldn’t get through him, it darted in the other direction into Sam. A good 30 seconds later, it started pouring outside. We got a good laugh, and the rain finally brought out the frogs for Elise (our expert), hoping along the tree-based epiphytes, like the common and gorgeous Philodendron sagittifolium. However, the tapir was not having it. We were lucky to say hi and feed it a few carrots, but it trotted off when the sprinkle turned into a pitter-patter. 

(Poor Green Iguana – 05/23/25)

(Philodendron sagittifolium – 05/23/25)

Tonight I encountered so many new animals, like margaye (house cat-sized felines that were originally bred to interbreed with cats for their gorgeous coats), tapir (mammals known for their mini elephant trunk noses), and porcupines with prehensile tails (Mexican Hairy Dwarf Porcupine). I also discovered my new favorite mammal: the paca, the most adorable rodent I’ve laid eyes on, known as the “Royal rat,” because it was served to Queen Elizabeth II when she visited Belize. Also, American crocodiles can go a month without eating. The zoo only feeds them once a month because they digest so slowly. 

(Adorable Paca – 05/23/25)

This zoo originated as an effort to rescue 20 mammals and turned into an animal rescue center and educational hotspot. The 160 individuals there were all saved from harsh or cruel circumstances, like as neglected pets, and were all natives of Belize.

On this trip, every minute is a learning experience. From exploring underground ecosystems to learning about Central American mammals, my understanding of ecosystem complexity and what goes on past the surface is growing, kind of like a leaf-cutter ant mound. I told Dr. Solomon that, from now on, I want to travel with an ecologist to keep doing the whole learning/vacationing thing. But even better, I will be that ecologist. For now, I’m excited to learn about the reef ecosystem and share my expertise about the sponge taxa.

(Wisdom from the Zoo – 05/23/25)

Peace,

Lily 🙂