Rainforest Reporter Blog

Later on during my trek from Lalehun, we are in the midst of a white-necked rockfowl colony - one of Gola's most charismatic birds, found only in these West African forests. They are one of the species here the RSPB and its partners are most keen to preserve. They nest on overhanging cliffs by mixing mud and grass with their feet, collecting it in their mouths, and regurgitating the materials on a rock face to form a mud nest. Cleverly this keeps predators such as snakes and monkeys well away from their young.

I stand watching the nests for around an hour, absolutely transfixed. Sullay looks at me, 'Gareth maybe we will not see them today' (ie don't get too excited). We wait 20 minutes longer and as we are about to leave, a white-necked rockfowl swoops down from the trees to the nesting colony - amazing. Sullay pats my shoulder, a smug look on his face. 'Mr Gareth, I told you we will see one today and there it is'. Course you did Sullay!

I've had a few close shaves this trip with the local animal and insect life. Tonight I had perhaps two of the closest. Closing my tent door hastily after seeing the forest floor move, my hand struck something solid and reptilian. Essentially, I think I may have inadvertently punched a snake. Take that Indiana Jones! Once safely in my tent, I lay there mulling over the previous day's activities and planning the blogs and photography for the day ahead. I flipped on the light on my head torch and it immediately illuminated a spider with huge, hairy legs that was slightly larger than my open fist. I did what any self-respecting Rainforest Reporter would do and filmed it before drifting off to sleep. When morning came I opened my tent door and let it crawl out.

I described the experience to Bobbi who immediately threw both hands in the air in shock and repeated the word 'poison' more times than I really wanted to hear. Apparently the spider was extremely venomous. I told Bobbi how I slept with it in my tent and he stopped speaking altogether, rubbed my head and walked away tutting. I decided to take this as a compliment and nicknamed myself 'Jungle Boy'. The nickname was short lived. I was later 'attacked' by a swarm of killer bees. With the bees swarming around me and the local lads shouting 'be calm, be calm or they will bite!', I obviously did the opposite and ran, screaming, into the river. No one calls me Jungle Boy anymore.