By Erin Francispillai, a MSc student at McGill University
I had the amazing opportunity to conduct field work for my Master’s project this past summer at the Makerere University Biological Field Station (MUBFS) in Kibale, Uganda. My supervisor, Dr. Lauren Chapman from McGill University, has been leading long-term monitoring and research on freshwater fish around MUBFS for over 30 years and helped develop the infrastructure and local field support teams necessary for her lab’s consistent and high-quality work. I was lucky enough to contribute a small piece to her research this year, studying the effects of deforestation-induced warming on the thermal tolerance of smooth head catfish (Clarias liocephalus )populations that occupy both forested and deforested streams within the Dura and Mpanga drainage systems.
I stayed in Kibale for 3 months (May to August 2023) and despite focusing my research on freshwater fish, I was able to learn so much about the surrounding biodiversity and culture as well. The field station is found within Kibale National Park, which houses numerous species of primates, such as the black and white colobus, the red colobus, mangabeys, red-tail monkeys, etc., and all of them just swinging right above your head. We even had multiple close encounters with chimpanzees, often hearing them vocalize from a distance. One of the more troublesome primates, however, were the olive baboons. There were two groups that had become habituated with humans and would often try to sneak into our lab or housing in search of food and mischief. We, as students, would each carry a walking stick to help us navigate through the forest but also mainly to keep the baboons at a safe distance.
One morning, my housemate and I made our way down the path from our house to the lab, passing by about 10-15 baboons (that we could see). Ordinarily, this is fine, as the baboons are used to humans, and we can walk past them without much issue. However, this morning we had accidentally spooked a half-blind female baboon, who then started walking towards us while screeching. The baboons had never confronted us like that before, so we were both scared and confused. Luckily, I had my walking stick and motioned to her as if I was ready to swing (this in itself is usually all that is required to scare off the baboons). It worked for a second and she backed off but only to come back even louder and angrier, inciting support from her male counterparts. About 5 seconds later, this massive alpha male baboon is charging at us full speed from about 10 meters away, and I’m waving my walking stick around now fully ready to make contact. Both my housemate and I are terrified, but instinctively we knew we had to stand our ground. We shouted and swung at the baboons knowing full well they could easily win this fight but pretending like we were the bigger threat. After what felt like the longest 20 seconds of my life, the baboons did back off, and we could see our field assistants come running from the lab armed with sticks and rocks. All the adrenaline had made my legs feel like jelly for the rest of the morning, and I could only laugh with relief knowing that I just got charged at by a bunch of baboons, fending them off with my skinny, twig-like walking stick and fake confidence. The crazy things we do for fish research!
About the author: Erin Francispillai is a second year Master’s student in Biology at McGill University under the supervision of Dr. Lauren Chapman. She studies the effects of deforestation-induced warming on the thermal tolerance of Clarias liocephalus (smooth head catfish) populations that occupy both forested and deforested streams within the Dura and Mpanga drainage systems in Kibale, Uganda.
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