SCENE TWO: THE SANCTUARY
It is late afternoon, and we are driving up a winding
lane into the Caroni Swamp and Bird Sanctuary. It is
a remarkable ecosystem of more than 15,000 acres of
protected land, is home to over 180 species of birds and
hosts 40 different species of fish that come here to spawn.
Leaving the car, we step into flat-bottomed boats to navigate
the mangrove waterways and take a quick inventory. We’re
prepared with mosquito repellent, water, sunglasses,
binoculars, camera and notebook. But most importantly, we
have with us our guide, Lester Nanan.
Full of information and highly observant, Nanan stops
our boat at almost every turn to point out boas sleeping in
mangroves, egrets or herons resting by the shore and even
iguanas and crabs on rocks. His family and heritage greatly
influenced his love and respect for this land, as well as his
dedication to its preservation. Nanan’s grandfather spent years
petitioning the former rulers—the British Crown—to protect
this habitat from pollution and exploitation. Both Nanan’s
grandfather and father were responsible for the scarlet ibis’
designation as one of two national birds after Trinidad and
Tobago became an independent republic in 1976. Throughout
his life, Nanan’s father continued to document the wildlife,
lead tours and speak for preservation. After his death, the
government renamed the area as the Winston Nanan Caroni
Bird Sanctuary in his honor.
For more than two hours we meander in this area
that Nanan’s family did so much to preserve. As sunset
approaches, we stop in an open lagoon as scarlet ibis
return to roost on the mangrove islands. The birds swoop
down in “V” formations, their bright red feathers stark
against the blue sky.
“Cup both ears with your hands,” Nanan suggests.
“Listen.” We do, and are rewarded with the sounds of the
birds calling to each other, announcing their return.
The sun drops quickly close to the equator, and the air
instantly cools. We see a white, bright moon rising in a still
blue sky as we head back through the swamp.
SCENE THREE: BEACH, RAIN AND SHARK
We arrive to Maracas Bay, a popular beach for residents
of the bustling capital, Port of Spain. Most every day,
Maracas Bay is a movie-set idealization of paradise with its
lines of palm trees and deep waters accessed by a twisty two-
lane road.
Today, however, it is a drizzly weekday. And that suits
us perfectly. We have no bumper-to-bumper traffic and no
crowds. We stroll the beach, barefoot, as one lonely guitarist
strums in the background.
And, of course, the rain doesn’t stop the “bake and shark.”
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