Walking to Lake Andrapongy through a lengthy series of rice paddies and mud fields laced with zebu dung, we become disheartened. It looks as though more and more of the flood basin has succumbed to agriculture. The water is fetid on our approach and we expect yet another disappointment. One team member who went down to see the lake returns, exclaiming, “There’s nothing here in this schistosome-infested dung-hole!” Still, we approach some local fishermen and inquire whether the damba (Paretroplus damii) is still present in the lake. They assure us it is, and after seeing our photos, they say that Paretroplus maromandia and a species of Ptychochromis (P. inornatus) are also still present in the basin, although they have become increasingly rare and are now extremely difficult to catch.
To our surprise, within a few minutes of reaching the lake and explaining what we are after, we are presented with two large damba. As soon as we start to process those specimens, another bucket comes in, followed by yet another. This continues until we have to call for a cease. Amazingly, this lake, which at first glance appeared to be completely trashed environmentally, still supports a healthy population of endemic damba. We call it a night and look forward to more fish in the morning.
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Sound of a Doboka StickWe aren’t disappointed. We awake to several villagers carrying buckets filled with damba. After processing their catch, we head down to the lake ourselves and make an intriguing observation. The locals here use a wooden stick, called a doboka, that has a cone-shaped tip to pound the water and frighten the damba into nets they trail behind their pirogues, which are dug out canoes. We have never seen a similar technique and speculate that it evolved in this culture specifically to target the hearing specialized damba. It certainly seems effective, and by the end of the day, we have a nice collection of Paretroplus damii for the American Museum of Natural History. Still, we have failed to obtain a single specimen of the other two endemic cichlids known from the lake, which John Sparks collected here in the mid 1990s. We also document the sounds of the doboka and look forward to analyzing the recordings back in New York.
We leave Andrapongy to sample a very different habitat several hours to the east: the rocky, shallow, fast flowing Mangarahara and Amboaboa rivers near the town of Mandritsara, home to the beautiful Lamena (Paretroplus nourissati) and many other endemic species. We know from some of our colleagues in Europe that we may be in for a letdown, given that the World Bank constructed a dam upstream on the Mangarahara, and that when they last visited, both the Amboaboa and Mangarahara were completely dry. Although these dams often provide much needed water for village rice production, they often have devastating environmental consequences, including extinction of endemic fishes. After driving over poor roads for hours, we are treated to an incredible backdrop of sheer granite peaks and lush valleys as we approach the Mangarahara basin. To our surprise, we find both the Mangarahara and Amboaboa rivers to be flowing at a decent rate, about the same as when Dr. Sparks visited a decade and a half ago. As usual, we ask permission to camp and fish the river from the local village chief. This is a lengthy discussion, but we manage to explain what species we are after, and get permission to set up camp for the night.
We are awakened by a cacophony coming from the direction of one of our tents, where a large congregation of villagers has assembled, each carrying a bucket or cup with a couple of native killifish (Pachypanchax). Luckily, some of the fishermen have also brought a nice collection of Lamena, a streamlined cichlid fond of hiding under rocks in riffles and cascades. The traditional method of fishing for Lamena is akin to “noodling” — the locals surround a rock under which they believe a Lamena to be hiding and feel around until they corner and grab it. By the early afternoon we have a nice series of Lamena and Pachypanchax, but have been unable to collect any of the other species known to be endemic to this small section of river. This once highly diverse river has become, like most others in Madagascar, depauperate. We can only wonder if the years when the basins did not flow led to the demise of some species, and hope they will one day recolonize this stretch of river from refuges farther upstream.