The majority of visitors to Madagascar seem to be interested mainly in the mammals, in particular the lemurs of which there are many more different species than you would think. They vary in size from the tiny, not to say minuscule Madame Berthe’s Mouse Lemur, which they say can sit comfortably into an egg cup, to the majestic Indri, which are the largest and look not unlike young bears balanced in the branches of the trees. These caught my heart in 2015, when we were treated to an impromptu chorus of haunting singing by a group in the south of the country.
There is no question that the mouse lemurs are unbelievably ‘cute’ and ‘sweet’ – or any other of the appellations of that sort that you might like to apply. They are charming, not to say endearing. On my previous trip (mainly in the south of the island), I was lucky to be shown one on a night walk and then was able to photograph it. He looked a little startled I’m afraid, as he was the centre of attention for two groups – and was very much in the headlights. I wondered if they took it in turns to keep the tourists happy…but I suspect he was just unlucky that night. I must admit I have mixed feelings about taking photos like that, it seems a great liberty. I tried to make my contribution to his photoshoot as quick as possible, but I’m afraid there were some there with cameras with attachments of a foot or more, who didn’t seem to care at all.
That aside, I suppose they are the first reason most people visit Madagascar. They are very good ambassadors. Most people are aware of the ring-tailed lemurs, however, there are five families:
Cheirogaleidae, which includes the Mouse Lemurs, Dwarf Lemurs, Hairy-eared, Fat-tailed, and Fork-marked.
The Sportive who come out at night and look indignant when disturbed in day-time, make up the Lepilemuridae family.
The Lemuridae which include the Bamboo, the famous aforementioned Ring-tailed, True, and Ruffed lemurs.
Then there are the Indriidae: The Woolly lemurs, (which look as though their woolly jumpers have shrunk into a mass in the wash), the beautiful Sifakas, and of course the eponymous Indri.
Lastly, and certainly not the least the Daubentoniidae family which contains only one species, the most unique of all, the Aye-aye.
There is something about them that makes them very special. There is a gentleness, and they are all very beautiful.
On this trip we were able to spot several different types – mouse, Black Lemurs, Silky (which I missed), Golden Crowned and Coquerel sifakas, Common Brown Lemurs and several Sportive. I particularly liked these. They would look out of holes with large round eyes and gaze out with a vague look of annoyance and puzzlement. The Coquerel sifaka’s were very athletic leaping and climbing around the trees, often hanging by their toes to reach dainty leaves on the branches below. We were staying in the reserve of the Coquerel lemurs and they seemed to take great pleasure in dropping large seeds down onto the tin roofs, which made a very large bang and was very disconcerting, until you realised what was happening… We also saw a group of Blue-Eyed lemurs. The males and females are different colours – the females are brown, males black. This dimorphism is rather peculiar – they really don’t look as though they belong together. We were lucky to see a group with a small number of babies too – hanging on to their mothers. All of them were black, however, I am unsure if they are born black and change (if female), or whether all of the babies were male.
One evening near the end of the trip we were taken on a night walk, not far from our camp (Ankarafansika). We were left with a tracker and Ismael to walk a path that was sandy and enclosed on both sides by forest. The sky was dark, though between the overhanging branches there were patches of sky, liberally decorated with stars, bright and multitudinous.
I find it best not to continuously use a torch at night when with a group, particularly with head-torches; the forest paths are lit by the wavering lights from the others, and it does prevent you from being struck in the face by an enthusiastic large moth, if you wear one, which happened on my last trip. So, this time, I carried it hanging by its strap, and only periodically directed it into the foliage. It wasn’t long before our guide found a rare mouse lemur, the Golden-brown Mouse Lemur. Tiny, and diminutive. It was kind enough to continue to forage along the twig it was on… then leapt across to another twig, then across to another branch and off into the darkness. We came across a small intrusion of cockroaches*, on the path, and then a chameleon, pale in the torch light, hanging at the end of a twig over the path. The photos I took of him were really rather good – he is hardly there, you can see his tail, and his body and head, but they are just disappearing into the darkness. Certainly not intentional, if I had tried, I wouldn’t have succeeded, but there you go, sometimes it works. As we walked we were advised to keep to the middle of the path; it had fallen away on both sides, which was a little disconcerting, and then I spotted two eyes, low to the ground coming towards us. Was I at last going to see my fossa? The hairs at the back of my neck began to rise, just as Ismael said, ‘Watch out for the zebu cart!’, and the cattle became clearer; the Malagasy driver sitting on top of the vehicle, feet against the front board, and toes in the air. The zebu pulling the cart were past in moments, heavy, large and ponderous, the cart creaking behind. The tracker then stopped suddenly beneath a branch and indicated with his knuckle – just above were some tiny little birds, sound asleep in a row. Absolutely stunning. Further on I was surprised to see a large insect buzzing around the path and was told that it was a night-dragonfly – absolutely gorgeous. Quite large, some four to five inches in length, red-brown with enormous eyes….
I suppose if I were to pick my favourite reptile, or amphibian, I think I would choose chameleons. Though I do love the Leaf-tailed and the Spiny Lizards are fun too. There is
something about chameleons, though, that I find quite extraordinary. If it isn’t their way of moving, each bifurcated foot carefully placed before the next, it’s their eyes and, and I love their tails. I haven’t seen any very large examples yet – most have been around a hands-breadth in length, or much smaller. The Malagasy were very good on both trips and if they found anything at all they would stop and show me. If I wasn’t around they would either bring the twig it was sitting on, and then return it, or they would encourage it onto another stick, and bring that. One chameleon in particular was a bright lime green with gentle feet and beautiful eyes, his tail uncurled behind. He was balanced on a sprig of foliage, brought up to me as I sat at the table in Marojejy and returned back to the forest afterwards.
The arthropods were there in profusion – the arachnids were large, but beautifully marked. At Marojejy they lived under the eaves of the eating area and built webs, that reached down to the handrail of the platform. They would come down to grab anything unlucky enough to get caught. There was also a web that we could see in the forest, which reached from the tree canopy down to below where we were sitting, towards the forest floor. In the south they built enormous webs across the rivers and were suspended above the water below. At times they looked as though they had no way of support, but the web was always there. As in the south, the north had a profusion of small butterflies that would rise up from your feet as you walked out from the villages. About half an inch in diameter they were a beautiful flurry of life. In the south they had some very large examples – with wingspans as wide as a hand stretch. Those of the north though were more diminutive – at least those we saw. One though was about two inches across and settled long enough for me to photograph him.
Then there were the giant millipedes – I only saw two long examples. One was making its way across the boulders at the top of the waterfall at Marojejy and I encouraged it to climb over a small stick, which I then raised a couple of inches. He climbed over the obstruction with very little trouble; exerting considerable strength – pulling himself away. I had always assumed that they perambulated with a wave like motion, however, this one moved a number of legs in a batch at a time, which was very efficient and very strong.
We didn’t seem much in the way of crickets and the like, though one travelled briefly on the trousers of one of the other people on the trip. His antennae were extremely long and fine, some six inches or so in length.
There were several opportunities to see the leaf tailed lizards – gorgeous creatures with superbly designed eyes. Often with very interesting patterns. Their tails were thin like a leaf, often with ragged edges and they often had a cloak edge around their bodies to break up their outline. One was sitting across a branch hanging just inside our path. He was carefully balanced, his tail dropping away behind him, his eyes red in contrast to his grey body. The night walks really are very special, I like them as they don’t involve much climbing, and the creatures can be superb.
The people of Madagascar fascinate me too. There are at least 22 different tribes, with diverse beliefs, cultures, and language. The tribes have different social demands. They all have a system of fady – behaviour or things that are taboo. Some tribes believe the aye-aye to be evil, for example, others the reverse. Death, as a result is a complicated business, particularly as the ancestors are so important to their beliefs.
When travelling far in the north we came across a crowd that stretched across the road, a mass of 50 or 60 people, all singing and dancing. It was a little disconcerting, and then I noticed a litter that they were carrying at shoulder height. Neatly folded over the recumbent body, which was carefully wrapped into a rectangular shape, were a series of brightly coloured lambas, coloured clothes. The Malagasy were dancing and singing as they carried it with them down the road, celebrating their dead and his life. The crowd parted and they smiled at us as our four x four split the group, before it remerged again after we had past. I was astounded to be told that they were from a tribe from the south. The deceased had died in the north and his family and friends were taking him home for burial. They were carrying him all the way as they didn’t have the money for a car. Not just carrying him, they were having a party.
Not long after that we came across another group, this time a more solemn and reserved crowd. Larger than the previous throng – they too were carrying a litter. This time the body was shrouded in a white sheet which hadn’t been prepared as the other, so you could see the outline of the deceased, the sheet fluttered in the air. They were Christians. Walking in near silence. Then, astonishingly we came across a third group, smaller than the other two, on the outskirts of one of the towns. This one had a coffin type affair affixed around the body (not very well, one corner wasn’t secured), and that again had a white sheet fluttering in the breeze. This body had, in addition, a note stating that the deceased was a member of the Christian clergy. I told Ismael that I thought the traditional funeral was the best – there was an element of joy with that funeral, which was lovely.
I have been reading an extraordinary volume called Madagascar – Land of the Man-Eating Tree by Chase Salmon Osborn LL.D. (1924) which gives details of the flora, fauna and the people of Madagascar – its rather fun – though in places quite complicated.
The book starts with the following declaration. Most of the time I shall be honest in this book. All of the time I shall try to be honest. Because of this pledge I am going to tell you that the purpose of the title of this chapter (which is the same as the sub-title of the book), is at once to enmesh your interest. Madagascar has been called “The Land of the Man-eating Tree” since prehistoric times as our vain and insufficient chronology goes. I do not know whether this tigerish tree really exists or whether the bloodcurdling stories about it are pure myth. It is enough for my purpose if its story focuses your interest upon one of the least known spots of the world. Now you are, at the most modest estimate, of average intelligence. Please for a second consider how little you know about this second largest island (actually fourth, but we won’t argue), on the globe – in fact nearly a continent. Only New Guinea is vaster in area than Madagascar, and size is not always a safe measuring standard of values.
Which I think you will agree is a super start to a book about a fascinating country. I have just looked Madagascar up on the Internet – it seems that Australia as a continent doesn’t count – which means the largest island that isn’t, is Greenland (840,004 sq. miles), then New Guinea (303,381 sq. miles), Borneo is next (288,869) and is followed by Madagascar – a mere 226,917 sq. miles. It is 1,000 miles or so from top to bottom too – which is rather good…and 350 miles wide…
I feel that the more I learn about Madagascar the more questions there are…so though I was exhausted when I returned, I did find that after a few weeks my interest was sparked to visit again. Undiscovered Destinations with whom I travelled have another trip – this time to the west coast. I was rather amused. They ask their guests to give feedback on their trips, which I did for both. After the last trip, feeling rather exhausted. Then to find them replying, with an additional note, that they had just ‘put up’ a new holiday – to the west coast. Really too tired to bother, it made me smile. Then a few weeks later…and I started to read the information about the trip, and my curiosity was sparked again… At the moment, though they have a small problem with bubonic and pneumonic plague, I don’t have any money, no time and …
*How about that for a collective noun for cockroaches!