Two weeks at Santa Martha Rescue Centre (and a rant about Qantas)

There is nothing like a bit of hard work. And, after 4 months of travel, there is nothing like getting back into something that vaguely resembles a routine.

That is exactly what we’ve done at Santa Martha, although when it involves animals it is so much more fun rising at 7 am  in the morning (730 by the time I’d pressed snooze several times). You’re not so keen to spring out of bed at this time though when you think about the amount of poo you are going to scrub and scrape off the floor of the animal enclosures that day, so you just try not to think about that. Rather you think about the baby Woolly monkey that clings to your back and suckles away at your neck while you try to navigate your way through the sticks and hammocks hanging in his cage to clean up the poop, not aided in the slightest by the three Squirrel monkeys that leap from branches onto your closest shoulder, or head if they can make it.

The team at Santa Martha

We had a bit of an adventure however to get to Ecuador and the Sanctuary. No thanks to Qantas. They had failed to inform us that they had not reissued our tickets after we made changes to our itineraries. This meant we had no seats booked, only reserved and we only found this out from the LAN lady 10 minutes before our flight began boarding.

Sitting patiently in the departure lounge, after having perused the duty free shops and doordled through kiosks on the hunt for plane snacks, we suddenly heard “Claire Cogswell” amongst a whole heap of jibberish (ie. Spanish) paged over the PA. The problem - while LAN had (stupidly) issued us tickets, they later discovered that Qantas had only reserved our seats. As our tickets had not been reissued by Qantas when we made changes to certain flights, we had no confirmed seats (though my online Qantas itinerary begs to differ). They had 3 hours to tell us this – us being so prompt and all - and yet waited till 10 minutes before boarding to tell us there was a problem. The result - The LAN representative, Claire and I running through the airport like crazy people - back through security, back through immigration into the main body of the terminal to sort everything out. And I mean running. The only thing was, we couldn’t sort it out. Though we showed the LAN lady our e-tickets, we had no ticket number (thank you Qantas). The only solution, to fork out over US$700, or miss our connecting flight. Not much choice. Especially when you can hear someone on the LAN ladies walkie-talkie questioning her as to whether we are coming or not, or whether they can leave. Thank you Qantas. You will be hearing from us.

Finally on the plane

Anyhoo, after all that debacle, everything went smoothly. We were picked up from our hostel in Quito by ‘Danillo’ our friendly Tambillo taxi driver, and were driven, squashed along the front seat of his ute, to Santa Martha - my legs wedged between the gear stick (making it impossible for Danillo to change gears) and Claire, whose lap was laden with bags up to her chin. We figured this option was better than riding in the tray, that had been converted into a people carrier for the 45 minutes along the highway to Tambilo. It looked more like something that you would see sheep or cattle being transported in, only on a smaller scale. No seats, just standing room. Though this is the way the locals do it – you often spot an entire family lying down in the back of the ute, children included, hanging on for dear life as the driver takes a corner to quickly or winds all over the road, as they are so accustomed to doing here – we figured we would savour this experience for a later date. In broken Spanish, we spoke to Danillo about the areas of Quito, the weather (always a good topic) and where he was from, stopping on the way at good vantage points to take photos of Quito on our way up the mountain.

Quito from above – apparently spanning over 40kms, one end to the other

Luckily, not long after we had exhausted our Spanish capabilities we pulled up at the Sanctuary, greeted by two Dobermans and a Lassie dog (random). Shown to our quaint accommodations at the bottom of the valley by Lizzie, one of the old volunteers, adjacent the Jaguar aka ‘Brenda’, we got to do our last bit of lazing around while we waited for the other new volunteers to arrive.

That is Brenda and me in the background, looking out our kitchen window.

Housing with Anne, an Engligh lady who’d already been there for a week, and two more newbies, Andrea from Portugal and Iza from Poland, both vets, we had a fabulous time cooking for each other in the evenings and teaching each other our homely traditions. Iza absolutely loved the ‘fairy bread’ that we made her, though she turned her nose up at the idea at first. I couldn’t believe that no one in the entire sanctuary had heard of ‘fairy bread’ except for the 3 Australians. She went home to Poland on Saturday and swears that the first thing she is doing is making ‘fairy bread’ for her niece.  We learnt the secret ingredient for Sangria (no, I’m not putting it up on here), and also a fabulous recipe for chocolate mousse which is absolutely drool worthy (also my little secret). However, though we tried, we couldn’t quite get them hooked on the Vegemite.

Memories from the animal sanctuary (good and bad):

1. The lioness had two cubs on our first day! Our afternoon meeting was interrupted by a raucous in the lion cage. We later discovered the cause of the commotion was the birth of two cubs, now rolling around in the den. Though there was not much hope of them surviving at first as there was fear they were the result of inbreeding, two weeks later, they are still going strong. Not that you can get very close, the mother threatening to eat you when you get within 10 m of her.
   
   
   Barbosa, the male lion - blind in one eye from being whipped by his circus trainers :(
   
   
2. Baby Woolly monkey.  “Woolly” had to be the cutest thing at the Sanctuary. Being only slightly bigger than your hand, the poor little thing craved motherly attention. Any female that entered the cage was instantly clung too by Woolly. He would instantly clamber onto your back as soon as you opened the cage door, and would hang on so tightly he would strangle your neck; or he would grip to your front and nestle his head into your chest. The most heartbreaking moment was when it was time to leave his cage. Woolly would have to be plied off you, him screeching and screaming in the process. It was heart breaking – his little hands desperate to keep hold of you, trying to make it impossible for you to put him down. Chances are you also had to remove up to 3 Squirrel monkeys that were hanging off you (pooing and peeing on you in the process). Woolly would not come near men on the other hand. It took one of the volunteers, Nick, two weeks for Woolly to even approach him. By the end of our stay, Woolly had become the surrogate for one of the baby Squirrel monkeys, that clung desperately to his back at every moment – much to Woolly’s disgust. He tugged and flicked at the Squirrel monkey to get him off. Having the Squirrel monkey on Woolly made it even harder for you to get them off when cleaning was finished. The Squirrel monkey nipping and scratching at your fingers when you tried to escape the grip of Woolly.
   
   
   Baby Woolly biting my arm as I tried to remove him
   
   
3. Poo Fact: There was a lot of poo. From bird poo, monkey poo and Galapagos turtle poo, puma poo was definitely the worst, and Claire and I got the lucky job of cleaning the Puma cage. The poo, mixed in with mud, rain and pee, had the most putrid smell which was amplified when you dug deeper into the puma’s poo trench. Any whiff that got up your nose made you gag. Better yet, we had to carry buckets of the stuff. You will not appreciate the difficulty of such a task if you have never carried a fully layden bucket of mud, poo and pee (if you don’t believe me, maybe you should make some mud pies and test it out). Carrying the buckets, that had to have weighed at least 20kgs, was made even more difficult by the matter inside that threatened to slosh everywhere and all over you with every step you took. After going down 15 stairs and then up a good 50 more you eventually arrived at the ‘shit pit’ where, you guessed it, all animal waste, and the odd animal carcass is disposed of, only to empty your bucket and head back to the pumas for more. 
   We still smell of puma poo.
   
   
4. Though having stinky poos, patting pumas was definitely an highlight. ‘Leo’ and ‘Pumara’ were rescued from someone’s home, and they behave exactly like your household cat. They purr and rub their backs along the wire, like a cat does along your leg to get you to pat them. And you do. You stick your hand entirely through the wire fence and stroke them. Idiotic when you think about it now, but for some reason at the time you seem to forget that these majestic creatures are 10 times bigger than your normal cat, coming up to at least your knees and that they have teeth that would take off your fingers in one easy crunch – you ignore the donkey leg in the corner that they are devouring that gives you an indication of the strength of their jaws. You are so sucked in by their purring and longing for pats that you quite willingly stick your hand through the fence. Claire got a small nip from Leo which quickly brings you back to reality.
   
   
5. Being clambered on by Coatis. Resembling a small anteater, these little critters are very inquisitive. They get a good whiff of you first (apparently to check your not edible), and will then clamber onto your lap and fall asleep. Even if you were standing up, you will soon be crouching, for they dig their very sharp claws into your legs and climb up you like a possum would a tree. They will even take flying leaps at your back from their house which is at least a metre off the ground, as one volunteer found out when she felt a huge force hit her in the back of the head – flying baby coatis. The other trouble: the two older ones, blind from various human inflicted injuries, don’t get along with the baby. As they can’t tell where the baby is very well, you often found your self caught in the middle of a coatis fight with a baby on your lap, and an adult coatis trying to climb your leg.
   
   Baby coatis in between my gumboots
   
    
6. Poo fact: Apparently, small bird poo is extremely toxic to humans – leading to blindness and respiratory problems  if you experience prolonged exposure to it (aka Cryptococcosis). Oh the handiness of having a vet in your house that knows these kinds of things! The result: Claire and I cleaning bird cages with headscarves over out noses and mouths. Though probably slightly paranoid, the amount of poo a bird does in a day is incredible. Times this by 20 birds in an enclosure, and your scrubbing at it means you’re inhaling a lot of poo particles. No, I don’t regret looking like an idiot and wearing something over my face - I’d much rather that than bird poo up my nose!
   
   
7. By far the funniest animal, and one of my favorites was the Galapagos turtles. Heratio, at 190 years old, loved to be hand fed papaya, and loved a good chin rub. He would spot you coming down the path and would wander over to the gate to wait for you – though he would never beat you there.
   
   
   That’s Heratio on the right and his mate Yoshi.  
   
   
8. Playing vet for a day (and night). Iza, while cleaning the rabbit cages one day discovered that one of the bunnies was very ill with an infection and was not eating. Because of the way rabbits bodies operate, in that like cows and horses they have to eat all the time to keep acids in their stomachs at a normal level (i think…), if the rabbit did not eat she would die very soon. This meant that every few hours, around the clock, the rabbit had to be force fed by syringe a concoction of vitamins. When the vets left, rabbit duty passed over to Claire and I. This meant 2 am duty. For once we got up when the alarm went off, as tempting as it was to press snooze. In the freezing cold, torches in hand, we headed to the rabbit runs. I have to admit I was a bit scared of being shot by one of the farm hands. A couple of night earlier they were roaming the property, rifle in hand, because of poachers. We had been told not to walk down the exact road that takes you to the rabbits… nevertheless, rabbit calls. Not 2 minutes in to feeding the rabbit, as I held her in my arms, she began to spasm. At first we thought she was just fighting the syringe and food, so I put her down for a break. She lay down on the floor and passed away, leaving eight little baby bunnies to fend for themselves. It was so sad, but we weren’t doing anything to treat her infection because the Sanctuary didn’t have the resources, so it was inevitable. It’s just shitty when it happens on your watch.
   
   
9. More facts about poo: rabbits have two kinds of poo – one which they eat again because there is still vitamins in it and turtles don’t seem to ever poo. Cows here on the other hand poo all the time – a fountain of poo – because they are fed nothing but fresh grass. Interesting (and kind of gross), huh.
   
   
10. Donkeys for dinner. Having a lot of carnivores requires a lot of fresh meet. While on the odd occasion dinner would entail rabbits or guinea pigs (I had to chop one up), for the most part it was donkeys. Unfortunately for the donkeys in the bottom paddock, they were these donkeys, including the beloved ‘Percy.’ Twice a week, a donkey was shot and cut up to be feed to the 4 lions, 1 jaguar, and 2 pumas. Who got the task of cutting up the donkey ? The volunteers of course. I never put my hand up for chopping up duty. I figured helping in the killing of a rabbit for the new mother lion was enough. Though I did witness several limbs being removed. While I wasn’t at all queasy when watching, I don’t think that I could be the one with the machete in my hand. There is something about an animal having it’s head and fur still attached that makes it so much more real. Like chopping up a chicken. When it is cooked, no problem. But in Tambillo, you buy chickens uncooked, and totally intact – I’m talking head, feet, gizzards. I had a hard enough time chopping up the chook for curry. I didn’t think it was time to advance to donkeys.  
    
    
11. Need to move an animal? A lion perhaps? Call your neighbourhood taxi driver. Not having that much room at the sanctuary, animals come and go very quickly. In one day, we lost 2 lions. Who did they call to transport them to a refuge in Cuenca, a town a few hours south? Danillo, the friendly neighbourhood taxi driver that drove us from Quito. He piled them into the back tray (anesthetised of course) – where we would normally sit. On top of that, he added an anesthetised baby bear, 4 monkeys and about 30 birds. I had no idea what was going on after coming up from the Galapagos and walked around the back of the taxi, only to find a lion, out cold, laying unsupervised and not locked up in the back of the truck. Gulp.  It was a site to be seen – stay tuned for photos.
    
    
12. Cows… those of you who know me will know that I love cows. I found this calf irresistible...
    
    

13. Other random photos

Flickr Tags: blogsherpa. Santa Martha Animal Rescue,Ecuador,Tambillo,Quito,Qantas