Barro Colorado Research Station & Gatun Locks
On the last day of our expedition, we learned that the great things of life are just the sum of many little things, which blend in a graceful way to create an amazing trip, or an ecosystem, or our own life.
The sunrise found us dropping the anchor in front of the Barro Colorado National Monument, which has been the most important open laboratory for recent tropical biologist leaders in the world and the site of a number of research projects in tropical biology, since 1925.
We experienced the lush, humid rain forest in different ways: hiking or Zodiac cruising around the island. We saw monkeys and toucans, but the animal that really caught our attention was a small, very odd-looking insect, known as the lantern fly or peanut-headed bug.
Maybe it is because it is so odd that there are several myths about it, such as: if a girl gets stung by one of them, she must go to bed with her boyfriend within the next 24 hours. Another is that its blunted head is bioluminescent and shines at night. Both statements are false.
That elongated structure that looks like a peanut is just a way of looking bigger to confuse the predator so that it will attack this false head. Also on its hind wings are two spots that resemble big eyes. Its coloration disguises it as a perfect wood stick and if all that is not enough, if they are bothered, they might release a burst of fetid odor that smells like a skunk.
We all have encountered insects, sometimes with pleasure, but most times with varying degrees of displeasure. But the number of insects that we found is just the tip of the iceberg. Few of us realize that they are, as a group, the greatest success of evolution among animals. They have persisted for hundreds of millions of years, occur in almost an endless variety, and are found virtually everywhere.
They are indispensable citizens of this planet, like the way plankton is indispensable for the oceans. Are we that indispensable? Suddenly we see ourselves taking pictures of this million-year survivor, the peanut-headed bug, and finally we are giving some credit to these masters of evolution.
On the last day of our expedition, we learned that the great things of life are just the sum of many little things, which blend in a graceful way to create an amazing trip, or an ecosystem, or our own life.
The sunrise found us dropping the anchor in front of the Barro Colorado National Monument, which has been the most important open laboratory for recent tropical biologist leaders in the world and the site of a number of research projects in tropical biology, since 1925.
We experienced the lush, humid rain forest in different ways: hiking or Zodiac cruising around the island. We saw monkeys and toucans, but the animal that really caught our attention was a small, very odd-looking insect, known as the lantern fly or peanut-headed bug.
Maybe it is because it is so odd that there are several myths about it, such as: if a girl gets stung by one of them, she must go to bed with her boyfriend within the next 24 hours. Another is that its blunted head is bioluminescent and shines at night. Both statements are false.
That elongated structure that looks like a peanut is just a way of looking bigger to confuse the predator so that it will attack this false head. Also on its hind wings are two spots that resemble big eyes. Its coloration disguises it as a perfect wood stick and if all that is not enough, if they are bothered, they might release a burst of fetid odor that smells like a skunk.
We all have encountered insects, sometimes with pleasure, but most times with varying degrees of displeasure. But the number of insects that we found is just the tip of the iceberg. Few of us realize that they are, as a group, the greatest success of evolution among animals. They have persisted for hundreds of millions of years, occur in almost an endless variety, and are found virtually everywhere.
They are indispensable citizens of this planet, like the way plankton is indispensable for the oceans. Are we that indispensable? Suddenly we see ourselves taking pictures of this million-year survivor, the peanut-headed bug, and finally we are giving some credit to these masters of evolution.
