Page 17

Chapter Seventeen

AVA

T wo days into our adventure and the group had settled into a rhythm. Meals were pretty basic with lots of dehydrated food, canned beans and vegetables, and powdered milk, but the location and all the excitement it provided made up for the lack of comforts. Norm still had his moments but then so did Pam. Between the two, they seemed to manage at least one meltdown a day. For Pam, it had to do with inconveniences brought about by living outdoors—inconveniences like the occasional large spider on your pillow or waking up to a red-eyed tree frog staring at you from the mosquito netting over your cot.

Jack had put up such a fuss about the trip, but—even if he wouldn’t admit it—he was enjoying being back in the field. Classrooms and college labs could start to close in on you after a while. They could sap your sense of discovery and adventure. It was always nice to get your hands dirty in nature.

After a breakfast of reconstituted powdered eggs and instant coffee, the group set off into the loamy, shady part of the landscape where a wide variety of fungi could be found on tree trunks, under leaf piles and in just about every damp crevice. We had our specimen gathering baskets, handheld magnifying glasses and rain gear because the skies seemed to promise a good rain shower.

Jack and his team were studying the effects of climate change on flora in northwestern deciduous forests, but they all seemed interested in the world of mycology. Robyn had been filling everyone in on some of the more amazing things about fungi and its extreme importance in ridding the world of dead material, not to mention the vast number of uses for mushrooms.

“Mushrooms have gotten a bad rap in history,” Robyn continued as we all made our way into the shadiest spots on the trail. As usual, Jack and I brought up the rear. We hadn’t become best buddies, but it seemed as if we’d come to a mutual agreement to be civil for the “sake of the children,” as he so aptly put it. “People considered them a nuisance, poisonous and of little value until scientists started saying ‘Hey, what about all these spongy little nodules growing in the shade,’ and that started the ball rolling,” Robyn continued.

I leaned my head toward Jack and lowered my voice. “Not sure if that’s exactly what they said.”

“Still, I like her spin on it.”

My students took Jack’s students under their wings as they explored the wondrous world of fungi in the heart of the Costa Rican rainforest. Jack stuck with me, and I had to admit I didn’t mind. He didn’t know nearly as much about mushrooms as I did, so it was fun inviting him into my odd little corner of the science world.

I cut a sample from the base of a tree and held up the cone-shaped beauty. “The webbed veil around its stalk gave it the name bridal veil stinkhorn.”

Jack crinkled his nose. “I smell rotten egg.”

I laughed. “And that would be the history behind the second part of its name. They’re edible, however, I do believe the smell would be a hinderance. But flies love them.” I dropped the specimen in my basket.

“Professor Lovely!” Robyn called excitedly. “Chicken of the woods,” she declared happily as she waved her hand at a cluster of flat, reddish-orange mushrooms congregated in an almost perfect array at the bottom of a tree. “We could cook some tonight for dinner.” Pam looked less than pleased with the suggestion, but everyone else stepped up to help forage tonight’s tasty accompaniment.

“All right, but don’t take too many.”

“Let me guess—” Jack said. “They taste like chicken.”

“That’s what some people say. They definitely have a meaty texture when cooked.” I glanced toward the group and realized that one person was missing. It was easy to notice when Norm wasn’t around. “Robyn, Evan, have you seen Norm?”

Evan waved. “He found a place to sit and eat the trail mix he brought with him.”

“Hmm, I wonder if I should check on him?” I muttered, mostly to myself.

“Maybe we’re taking this parent, kid analogy too far. It’s not as if a tapir or sloth could pick him up and carry him off. In fact, I doubt they would, even if they could manage the feat.”

The second he finished his quip, a yell rattled the otherwise comforting sounds of the surrounding forest.

“I take it back. Maybe a tapir decided to give it a go after all.” Jack and I took off in the direction of Norm’s yell. We found him in a small clearing next to one of the many fallen trees. He shrieked as he hopped around and swatted wildly at his legs, his trail mix scattering in every direction.

“Ants,” Norm cried out. “Ouch, ouch!”

“Oh, no. Bullet ants,” I muttered and raced to the log. I pulled out my magnifying glass and leaned down to the black trail skittering across the bark. I breathed a sigh of relief. “Just black ants.”

Jack relaxed, too. “That’s good.”

“Good? They hurt.” Norman was still stomping around as if his legs were on fire.

I put away the magnifying glass and handed Jack my basket. “I’ll take him back to camp. I’ve got some lotion and antihistamine. A cold compress will help, too. Will you be all right with the rest of the group?” I asked and then laughed at his lifted brow. “Right. They aren’t third graders. Just remind them to watch where they step … or sit. If those had been bullet ants, this would have been a much worse outcome. Come on, Norm. We’ll get you to camp. By then, the bites will have cooled down.”

By the time we reached the mess tent where the first aid kits were, Norm had stopped complaining about the pain. I had no doubt that the initial bout of bites had hurt. I dipped a clean cloth into the cistern of cold rainwater, and he used it as a compress to keep the swelling down. He swallowed the antihistamine and rested back on his cot.

“These usually make me sleepy,” he said with a yawn.

“That’s good. Rest and I’m sure you’ll feel better when you wake. I’m going to make myself a cup of hot tea. Are you interested?”

“No, thanks.” He rolled onto his side. Something told me he’d be out even before the antihistamine took hold.

I walked back to the mess tent, deciding to take advantage of a few minutes of solitude. I carried the kettle out to the grill over the firepit and sat down to enjoy the quiet. A clicking sound and an unfamiliar voice jarred me from my thoughts. It took me a second to realize the clicking sounds and voice were coming from the two-way radio in the mess tent. It was set up for emergencies. I hurried inside.

“This is Harold at the station. Base camp one, come in. Over.”

I grabbed the microphone and pressed the button. “Base camp one. Ava speaking. Over.”

“Oh good, someone’s there. I’ve been trying for an hour. Over.”

“We had an ant incident, but everything is good here now. Over.”

“Just wanted to let you know there is a tropical storm to our east. Not too worried about it. These things usually dissipate and become weak rainstorms by the time they reach our shoreline, but we’ll keep an eye on it in case we need to take action. Over.”

I sat up in surprise. “Action? Over.”

“You’re on a strip of land between two bodies of water. If there’s going to be significant rainfall, we may need to evacuate. Over.”

“Evacuate. I don’t understand. Do you mean by air? Over.”

Harold chuckled. It seemed ill-timed, given the subject matter. “No place to land a plane or helicopter out there. We’ve got—” A loud grinding sound blotted out his words.

“Please repeat. Over.”

There was a scraping sound and then Harold’s voice came through. “We’ll carry you out on dirt bikes. They’re the only vehicles that work on that trail, but we’ve only got two, so it’ll take a few trips. That’s why we’re keeping an eye on it, so we have plenty of time to get you all out. Over.”

“Get us all out? That sounds ominous. Over.”

“No, no, it’ll be fine. Just wanted to give you a heads up. We’ll keep you updated. Over and out.”

“Please do. Over and out.”

I returned to my kettle. The water had boiled over, and the handle was too hot to touch. I lifted it off the flames with our grilling fork and set it down to cool. Voices and laughter in the distance told me the group was returning to camp. I decided to let Jack in on Harold’s message, but it didn’t seem necessary to alarm the others. After all, Harold said the tropical storms were usually nothing more than weak rainstorms by the time they reached Costa Rica. I was sure that would be the case, and so, I pushed it out of my mind for now. The students returned with baskets full of samples, so there was work to do.