A s early evening arrives in central Sri Lanka, I find myself searching a dark forest for a small animal.
The idea is to sweep the beam of my headtorch across the foliage to catch its reflected eyeshine. In truth, my focus is as much on avoiding the snaking roots along the trail.
“There!” I hiss, spotting a twinkle in the dark tangle. “Fireflies,” says my more experienced companion. We move on.
Naturalist Chaminda Jayasekara has trodden this trail hundreds of times, so it’s hardly surprising that he’s seeing wildlife at every turn. First up: an Asian palm civet scuttling through the canopy; then a roosting Indian pitta on its perch, puffed up into an exquisite ball. Next, he spies a green vine snake suspended like a noose from – gratifyingly – a vine, its head mimicking a flower bud.
Chaminda soon spots what we’re looking for. I peer down his torch beam, its glare softened by a red filter, and see two saucer eyes staring
