Meeting with Edgardo Griffith has been an unforgettable cornerstone of my time in Panamá. He has provided me numerous insights on the history of the chytrid panzootic as well as the chilling yet hopeful reality for the frogs of Panamá and the world.
Telephone Tag
My first contact in Panamá was a man named Edgardo Griffith, who runs the amphibian conservation center in El Valle de Antón. El Valle, as most people refer to it, is a town settled in an ancient volcanic caldera a couple of hours east of Panamá City. It was the last home to the Panamanian golden frogs, and is now a beautiful tourist destination known for its hiking trails, hot springs, and amphibian history. After waiting most of the summer for a response from Edgardo Griffith, he sent me a message in Spanish that roughly translates to, "Hi Jasper, Congratulations on your fellowship, and forgive me for not responding earlier, I don't use this email often. From now on you can count on our colaboration for what we can provide to your work. Greetings and good luck, Edgardo Griffith, EVACC Foundation" I was excited to hear back, but I had already arranged my plans with the Smithsonian's Amphibian Rescue and Conservation Center by that point. Filling out all of the required permitting paperwork consumed all my time for the rest of the summer and I regrettably did not respond to Edgardo until I arrived in Panamá.
I finally reached out in Spanish saying, "I wanted to follow up on our discussion about working with you and your team on amphibian conservation and the study of chytrid. I'm still developing my research project, so for the time being I'm hoping to volunteer for you and help out how I can. I'm currently working for Jorge Guerrel in the Smithsonian's Amphibian Rescue and Conservation Center in Gamboa until October 12th and I would love to have the perspective of voluteering one month in your facilities as well."
In the Meantime
There was a lot to learn at the Smithsonian's amphibian center. My first day was spent getting to know the facilities, which consist of six shipping containers each with between 30-100 ten to fifty gallon aquariums each contain 1-10 frogs, and a varying number of smaller plastic tanks for juveniles or sick frogs. My first responsibility was watering the aquariums. The job was straight forward, but there were certain rules which could be lethal to the frogs if ignored. For example, if the frogs had edema (an over accumulation of liquid in the body) then they had to be sprayed with an isotonic solution of dissolved salts instead of the regular water. Or in the case of the Dendrobatids (individuals of the poison dart frog family) I had to use the mist setting on the hose because anything stronger might knock over the shot glasses into which they deposit their eggs.
A few days later I met another volunteer, Alistair. His undergraduate work with amphibian parasites scored him a temporary position with the Smithsonian's conservation center while he awaited the start of an internship identifying marine fish distribution in Lake Gatún, which supplies the water for the rising locks system of the Panamá Canal. A couple of weeks passed and we had become friends. He invited me to El Valle de Antón for an amphibian tour that I couldn't refuse. The night before the tour, I received a message from Edgardo Griffith, "Sorry for the late response, I just returned from a ten day trip to the field and I'm getting everything in order. Are you the one coming on the night hike with Alistair tomorrow?" "Yes that's me." I responded, "I was hoping to get to know the area and its frogs but I didn't realize you would be our guide. That's great!"
The Tour
Edgardo met us in the parking lot of the Hotel Campestre, one of the last places to exhibit a wild population of golden frogs and one of the first places they were bred in captivity. The story goes that in 2006 before the breeding centers were established, there were two hotel rooms reserved for floor to ceiling shelves of critically endangered frogs. Today, the El Valle Conservation Center sits just next to the hotel, and it boasts an impressive visitor's center with a variety of brilliantly colored amphibians, reptiles, and herpetological merchandise for purchase.
We started down a dark path around 9:00. Edgardo brought our attention to a few open aquariums filled with murky water just behind the shipping containers in which they breed their frogs. "These are the masked tree frog tadpoles. We don't breed them ourselves, but we provide extra spaces for them to breed safely." Then as we made our way through Panamá's equivalent to cattails and waded into a shallow swamp, he pointed at a large spider on one of the tall stalks. "That's the one that eats the red-eyed tree frogs, which we can probably find here as well." And as it happened, just below the spider was a beautiful female red-eyed tree frog, a first for Alistair and a truly beautiful frog. We carried on, shining a UV light up and down every tree in search of scorpions, then trudged through a deep river scored by a chorus of glass frogs chirping all around us. The white-spotted glass frog was easy to find, males called from nearly every other low-hanging branch over the river. Harder to find was the granulated glass frog, whose soft trill taunted us every ten or so minutes.
Around this point, I recalled a question from my interview when the fellowship seemed like nothing more than a dream, "What do you imagine when you think of the Watson Fellowship?" I had spent weeks preparing for the zoom call, so few questions caught me off guard. "My ideal experience would be to meet with experts and walk with them through raging rivers and streams looking for the frogs they study." I hadn't imagined that I would realize this dream less than a month into the fellowship, but here I was. And where was Edgardo? He was half way up the hillside checking every leaf for the granulated glass frogs. "I really want you guys to see this species!" he called down.
The Granulated Glass Frog
We heard the trill call of the granulated glass frog from a nearby branch, so Alistair and I walked over. The riverbed deepened, and as I stepped up to the branch water quickly flooded my boot. Edgardo stood back, surveying the tree with a spotlight for about 10 minutes before approaching. "Step back, I got this" he said, pulling out a long metal rod with a curved end called a snake hook. He latched it onto a high twig and steadily pulled it down. Alistair and I stepped back to continue surveying the higher branches. The frog called once again for a mate. Perfect timing for us to pinpoint its location and call out to Edgardo over the din of the river. "It's just above your hook!" I called, "Farther forward!" Alistair added. There was another leaf that took the shape of a calling frog and Alistair and I tried to differentiate which the call was coming from. Edgardo had a knack developed over years of glass-frog searches, and he steadily lowered the precise branch with the frog on it as softly as the wind. The little frog hardly had time to notice its descent before it was ensnared by a gloved hand, but it wasn't over yet. Edgardo slowly made his way out of the dip in the river to a low plant on the opposite side. With a well practiced flick of the wrist, he released the frog onto a large leaf in a perfect pose for spectacular pictures. "Here it is, guys. The granulated glass frog."
He had offered us a two hour tour, but I realized as we headed back that we had been out almost five hours. Exhausted and inspired, I asked Edgardo my last slew of questions. What work remains to be done, what's the public concept of chytrid, what hope do you have for amphibians? He responded simply and eloquently, "I have all the hope. If we're not hopeful, who will be? No one. And then there will be nothing left to work towards." Amphibian conservation is such a unique field that those of us who are willing to devote ourselves to it are incredibly passionate. However, there are very few of us. We need that immense passion just to equate to the productivity of other scientific fields, which means we often have to fund, conduct and disseminate the research ourselves, an impressive workload for someone whose study animals are the size of their fingernails.
We thanked him profusely for the amazing experience and he took us back to our hostel around 2:00am. The hostel locked its doors at 11:00, so we knocked and sent messages to the hosts, but heard no answer. Eventually, we ended the night by jumping over the six foot sheet metal gate, Edgardo waiting for us until we entered. Alistair kicked me in the nose as I gave him a boost over, and we laughed it off as Edgardo drove away. Inside, our hosts were standing by concerned that we had broken in, so we apologized and went to bed, still giddy over a night so full of such amazing frogs.
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