Ghosts of the rainforest

Gnarled roots snare my ankles; protruding rocks scrape my shins and bruise my weary toes. I struggle upwards through dense vegetation, skirting stinging trees, hacking through vines, my eyes peering ever high into the canopy, fervently following the bright swathe cut by the torch strapped to my forehead. Leeches cling in vain; insects bite for no return. I brush them away with mild disgust, dashing their swollen guts into bloody smears. I force a weary, knowing smile and clamber onwards. I seek what they seek: life. Higher I climb, through clinging mist and intermittent rain. These Wet Tropics house much of what is left of life on this sorry sphere, these mountains a final refuge for many once-plentiful creatures, and it is my lifetime's work to count and monitor them, chart their inevitable decline. When primitive life first evolved here, it did so in the absence of oxygen, though released that highly-reactive and toxic gas as a by-product of its respiration. In time, as the air and oceans filled with it, primitive creatures necessarily evolved that could survive its noxious presence. Later - much later - further mutations enabled a singular strain to harness the element's unequalled reactive power, and life, as we have come to understand it, gained a foothold and thrived. Billions of years later, here I stand at the pinnacle of all creation, my sole task to chart life's last bastion's inevitable decline into oblivion. At ground level, a pair of burning orange orbs betrays a frog, though of which species I can only Escort Erenköy guess. And there, glowing green amid a sparkling, dew-soaked web, the eyes of an equally anonymous spider. I stride forward, upward, my tireless tortuous climb sadly tearing her night's work asunder. Start again, little one; spin your silk to survive. The creature I seek has not been seen for almost half a century, is thought by many to be extinct, though its tracks have recently, reportedly, been spotted hereabouts. Incredibly, its kind once swarmed across this world like a plague, yet, like the rest of creation, it now clings to a fevered existence in this single lofty retreat, where the climate is still cool enough, and where the air is still clean enough. It is asserted by some that we descended from it, and though there are similarities enough, there are many who scoff at the suggestion. 'How could it have made the leap into us? Where is the missing link? Where in the fossil record is the proof?' are all regularly heard rebuffs. However, I have studied them, know them better than anyone alive and am certain we somehow sprung from their seed. Tonight, for the first time, I hope to find one, to be the first for almost fifty years to share their fragile presence and test, first hand, the certainty of my beliefs. Twigs crackle. Branches snap. The ground shakes. An indistinct black mass leaps from my left. Another springs from my right. I sidestep, crouch, instinctively parry the first attack then block the içerenköy escort second with a well-timed kick. Slicing through the darkness, my headlight briefly illuminates the flashing, fleeing, black and amber rump of a big cat. Beside me, broken and breathing its last, its mate purrs and weakly whimpers. In disbelief - for I had merely swatted it aside - I examine its twisted body for signs of injury. Her beautiful head is scarred yet otherwise undamaged; her shoulders likewise. But there! Buried deep into the animal's stripy gut, a smooth wooden shaft, its protruding end starkly splintered. I twist it, tug it, twist again and slide it free. Bound to the shaft by meticulous windings, a gleaming triangle of silver metal, its tip and leading edges ground to savage sharpness. And there, along one blood-smeared edge, carved crude symbols assail me, symbols I recognise from yellowed copies of age-old documents. Their provenance is inexplicable; their presence irrefutable. They silently scream their obscene message. 'Die, fucker!' I reverently stroke the big cat's head then, after swiftly breaking her neck and closing her grateful eyes, I carefully stow the arrow in my bag and edge carefully forwards, ever upwards, infrared now surreptitiously scanning the canopy for signs of life. An array of reptiles. A multitude of insects. Burrowing beetles; buzzing mosquitoes; processing ants carrying their improbably-large leafy fragments home. Hack. Climb. Slip. Stumble. Up. Up. Up. For every Tuzla escort bayan thousand feet I rise, the temperature drops by around seven degrees, becoming ever more bearable, more hospitable, for the rare creatures I seek. Year on year, as the ice melts, the acid seas deepen, and the climate irrevocably changes, all extant species must climb to escape the rising waters and rising heat, to find environs suitable to their unique adaptations. Rather enigmatically, it is averred by some that the ape I seek - notoriously intelligent and adaptive, yet shy and elusive - climbs for altogether different reasons. As dawn's first sickly light permeates the canopy, I break through a final wall of mist and leave the cloud forest behind. I have seen the transition countless times on aerial photographs, but this is the first time I have lived it. Up here, the mountain peaks float like verdant islands on a sea of billowing white. Momentarily, I gaze across the nebulous blanket into a dazzling rising sun, then turn and recommence my ascent. From here, the terrain will be kinder, the vegetation less dense, and my progress somewhat quicker. Calls. I hear calls. Eerie. Other-worldly. Sounds not heard for generations. I pause, hold my breath and listen. Again. Plaintive. Longing. Yearning. My heart almost breaks with the sound. Laying down my machete and backpack, I step gingerly forwards, squinting against the unaccustomed glare, peering upwards into the blue-speckled green. There. Up there. Oh, my god. Reclining in the crook of a branch. A male. Undoubtedly a male. Broad shoulders. Muscled buttocks and thighs. Lank, matted hair dripping from his bearded head. His flesh - not ghostly pale as legends suggest, but bronzed and gleaming - ripples with his every indolent move, the underlying muscles and tendons distinctly delineated.