There where they sing
By Floortje Middag
About 10 years ago, I met a woman who organized trips to Madagascar. She showed me pictures of the most beautiful animals, landscapes, and cultures. I fell in love at first sight and knew for sure: one day, I would go to Madagascar. And then, finally, the time had come…. As a freshly graduated biologist from Leiden University in The Netherlands, I boarded the plane alone, ready to make that dream come true. Because really, what biologist wouldn’t want to visit the so-called (biologically speaking) eighth continent on Earth?
Once I arrived, I was overwhelmed by so many different impressions: the nature was insanely beautiful and the villages unlike any others I had ever visited. All the differences between my birthplace and Madagascar made my head spin, and for the first time in my life, I experienced what people call homesickness. A dilemma arose: should I return home, or should I set off for La Mananara to begin my volunteer work with Wildlife Madagascar? My urge to see the nature—and with it the chameleons and lemurs—overpowered my homesickness, and I headed off to the camp.
Along the way, we passed many villages, braved rough roads, and I marveled at everything I saw. People working in the rice fields, busy doing laundry in the rivers, the mud houses—and, of course, the nature. The nature here was completely different from what I had expected. The landscape is rolling, with hills everywhere and, in the valleys, rivers and wetlands where rice is grown.
A visit with local schoolchildren
When I arrived at the camp, Rojo, Hanitra, and Domohina were sitting in the late afternoon shade. I was warmly welcomed and settled into a room at the field station with them. After my first meal—rice, which I would eat many times—I went to bed, exhausted from the journey.
Disoriented, I woke up to the early bustle of the camp. I quickly learned that life here begins before 5:00 am. And then, for the first time, I heard it: the singing of the indri coming from the adjacent forest. That sound brought me peace and confirmed that I was exactly where I was meant to be. It showed me once again why I had embarked on this journey and why I wanted to volunteer for Wildlife Madagascar. In the weeks that followed, I would try many times to catch a glimpse of indri.
Two other lemur species seen during the times I went with the habituation team. Left: common brown lemur (Eulemur fulvus); right: gray bamboo lemur (Hapalemur griseus)
In the days that followed, I woke up each morning to the indri’s song, imagining what our first encounter might be like. But their melody wasn’t the only music filling the camp. From every corner, beautiful voices sang different tunes—whether people were doing laundry, showering, cooking, or walking—there was singing every single day. It never failed to bring a smile to my face.
I soon realized that hearing the indri offered no guarantee of seeing them. Every morning, the habituation team left the field station around 5:00 am, heading toward the spot where the indri had last been heard or seen, waiting for their beautiful calls before moving in that direction. With great enthusiasm, I joined this group several times. This resulted in crossing steep paths, wading through thick vegetation, and fending off everything that pricked you—both plants and insects. The amazing guides and students dragged me along each time—after all, as a woman from the flattest country in the world, I wasn’t used to those steep hills.
Once, after scrambling up yet another steep hill (yes, scrambling—with hands and feet) and panting at the top with a guide, I was filled with anticipation. Could this be the day I would finally see them? The guide had mentioned during our climb that he thought he had heard them nearby. Trusting his expertise and focused on the climb, I waited. Then, in a moment of calm, the guide suddenly said, “Indri, look, indri!!” Overjoyed, I grabbed my camera and binoculars and slowly moved closer. There, I saw a female with a little one on her back, who, upon my approach, quickly retreated a few trees away. The male soon followed and went on alert as soon as I pointed my camera at him. Completely overwhelmed by their appearance and size, I felt, at that moment, like the happiest person on Earth.
Left: A female indri (Indri indri) with a baby on her back. Right: My first sighting of a male indri!
Once the rest of the group arrived, we began our behavioral observations and were able to follow them for about six hours. During those six hours, they sang again—overwhelming when you’re so close that you can experience the power and volume of their song firsthand. On the way back to the camp, everyone was elated by this lengthy observation, and there was much laughter and… singing.
It is a reassuring feeling to know that the stunning nature I experienced during my time with Wildlife Madagascar still exists on this planet, even though we humans have such a (negative) impact on the natural world. But the most beautiful thing is that I witnessed firsthand how many people dedicate themselves wholeheartedly to these magnificent animals, ensuring that not only the indri but all the inhabitants of Madagascar can look forward to a more colorful future. And so, I will often look back and remember: there where they sing, there is hope for a beautiful future—for nature, for humans, and for animals.
