Many people are in tune with their bodies, noticing little changes that portend illness or other problems. These sensitive people are probably the descendents of the woman who inspired the story of “The Princess and the Pea”. They are overly sensitive to stimuli. At the other extreme are people who ignore warning signs until it is way too late. They faint, dropping like flies in the heat instead of heeding the warning signs of nausea, roaring sounds in their ears, and spots floating before their eyes.
I seem to be more akin to the princess, but with a twist. My sensitivity extends to external sources of danger that are not apparent to the normal complement of five senses. A sort-of sixth sense, if you like. No, I don’t mean a paranormal ability such as ESP, but something more instinctual – a primitive relict that likely protected my pre-human ancestors from predators.
One of the times my “early warning system” saved me from harm was during my work as a field ecologist. I was conducting research in Panama on the Caribbean side of the isthmus in a beautiful mangrove-coral reef ecosystem at Bocas del Toro. The crystal clear bays there are dotted with patch reefs and lined with mangroves teeming with wildlife such as howler monkeys and parrots.
I was part of a team of scientists gathering baseline data in anticipation of upland deforestation that would ultimately result in runoff of sediment into this pristine system. My colleagues included another mangrove ecologist and three coral reef experts. Because of our diverse interests and only one boat, we decided that my team would be dropped off in the mangrove forest, while the coral reef scientists would keep the boat. This procedure made sense logistically. We would be working at one spot in the swamp and so required no boat, whereas the coral reef team had to move from place to place and also needed a platform of operations in open water.
My colleague and I disembarked, unloaded our gear, and waved goodbye to the others. After the sound of the boat motor had faded, there was a brief silence. Then, howler monkeys began calling from the trees at the landward edge of the mangrove forest where it graded into lowland tropical forest. We were standing in the middle of a dwarf mangrove forest, each tree only waist high. These pygmy trees were twisted into strange shapes, the main stem often forming u-shaped curves back toward the ground. We proceeded to set up transects to measure various forest structural characteristics and soil chemistry. It was painstaking work, particularly in the heat and humidity.
After several hours, I was feeling extremely hot and fatigued and decided to take a dip to cool off. I should emphasize at this point in my tale, that our colleagues and the locals had all assured us that swimming and snorkeling were perfectly safe activities here. I was also comfortable working in such systems along the east coast of Central America, having spent the previous twelve years or so doing research in Belize. We frequently went snorkeling in the clear tidal channels to see the myriad fish hiding among the mangrove roots and the brightly colored sponges, tunicates, and other sessile creatures that attached themselves to the roots. This Panamanian system was very similar.
I waded out through the prop roots, which dangled down into the clear water, stretched out on my back, and floated out into the tidal creek. The water was calm and cool and felt soothing on my head, which had been pounding in the hot sun. My hair floated around my face, and I waved my fingers gently through the water. After a couple of minutes, my heart began beating faster. I wasn’t concerned at first, but the rate increased until my heart was eventually pounding. I also began to feel an extreme sense of foreboding, as if something terrible was going to happen. I decided that I must be having a heat stroke or heart attack, so I paddled toward shore. Better to get out of the water in case I lost consciousness. Once I was out of the water, however, my heart rate returned to normal and I felt fine.
When I rejoined my companion, I didn’t say anything to her about my strange experience, mainly because I didn’t know how to explain it. After a while, she also decided to cool off in the water. However, she returned in less than five minutes. I asked, “Why did you come back so quickly?”
She said, “I felt really nervous in the water for some reason. Isn’t that ridiculous?”
I responded, “Really? I felt uncomfortable, too.”
We just shrugged it off and continued to work. At the end of the day, the others came to pick us up. We had forgotten our strange experiences by then and excitedly discussed our respective scientific findings with the coral reef scientists.
The next day, we planned to go through the same routine, with the boat dropping us off at the dwarf mangrove forest. However, as we pulled up to our site, we all saw a sight that sent chills down my spine: a huge crocodile floating in the water exactly where I had been the day before. It was easily as long as our 17-foot boat and not shy. It moved lazily to the opposite side of the little inlet, but stayed on the water surface watching us.
Everyone was amazed at the size of this creature, even our Panamanian boat guide, who claimed that he had never heard of a crocodile this large. This was an American crocodile, the shy cousin of the more aggressive estuarine crocodile found in Indo-Pacific mangrove forests. However, these neotropical creatures are so elusive that they are rarely spotted during the day and almost never attack humans. At least, that had always been my experience in Belize. It was apparent, though, that this large specimen had no fear of humans, which made it very dangerous. [for an account of what it’s like to survive a crocodile attack, go here]
We decided that the crocodile could not follow us into the dwarf forest, since the dense prop roots would create an effective barrier. My colleague and I hopped quickly from the boat and dashed into the forest. During the course of the day, we observed the crocodile patrolling the shoreline, probably hoping we would take another swim. However, we stayed well away from the water’s edge until the boat returned.
Thinking back on this incident, I wondered how our sense of danger could have been triggered and especially my physical reaction. I had not been thinking at all about crocodiles because they just are not a factor at our other study sites. In fact, they are so rare that in twelve years of field research, I had seen one only once, and it was very small. I definitely did not see anything or feel any vibrations or water movement that would have indicated the presence of a large animal near my floating body. If I had, I probably would have thought it was a large fish such as a tarpon, which can sometimes be found in mangrove tidal channels.
So my reaction had to be in response to a change in something more subtle that was only detectable by me on a sub-conscious level. But I didn’t know what it was, and I was mystified as to how it had been translated into a fear reaction. The rapid heartbeat and feelings of impending doom were consistent with fear; however, I did not recognize any danger on a conscious level. Fortunately, I heeded the internal alarm bells even though I had no idea what had set them off. Often, people do not pay attention to these hints and suffer the consequences.
The temptation is to ascribe such an experience to a supernatural force or paranormal “gift”. However, I think it’s explainable without resorting to pseudoscientific mumbo-jumbo. Such reactions are likely our evolutionary inheritance from ancestors who daily faced dangerous situations. Animals are often thought to be able to “sense danger”, and there are many tales of animals reacting strangely just before earthquakes or tsunamis. Experts say that such cases occur because animals have heightened senses, such as better hearing and vision, and may also sense minute vibrations or other subtle environmental changes. Animals are also very alert to the behavior of other animals, even other species that may give warning calls or simply run away.
Perhaps there was a subtle vibration or sound underwater or a change in bird calls that triggered a primitive “predator alert” reaction…an alert that completely bypassed my modern human cerebrum. Our pre-human and possibly early human ancestors certainly needed a heightened set of senses to survive. Obviously, those who were better at “sensing danger” would more likely survive to pass on their genes. I think we still have this ability but it’s either submerged so deeply that it rarely surfaces or it is rarely triggered because we aren’t confronted regularly with dangerous animals.
Occasionally, this primitive reaction does surface…something we often refer to as a “gut reaction”. Modern humans may ignore such warnings because we are rarely placed in true physical danger—at least under circumstances where we have time to react. We don’t usually find ourselves facing a large predator or a poisonous snake, and we don’t expect to.
On those rare occasions when a “gut feeling” warns us about something, we often don’t recognize it as a warning and, consequently, dismiss it. Only other humans pose any real threat of violence in our everyday lives. In those instances, people sometimes ignore the gut’s warnings of odd behavior and other signs until it’s too late. Gavin de Becker in his book, The Gift of Fear, talks about how people often fail to act on their gut feelings about someone for fear of being rude…and end up getting conned or even killed. But it seems that when humans come into close proximity with large predators, this instinct reawakens. For example, in her description of surviving a crocodile attack in Australia, Val Plumwood describes having a “feeling of unease” that intensified over time, just prior to the attack.
You might think my experience was an isolated incident, not likely to be repeated. But you would be wrong. This same warning, expressed in a dramatic increase in heart rate, has alerted me to unseen danger on at least three other occasions. Now when I experience this physical reaction, I know to pay attention and remove myself from that situation as quickly as possible.
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