A Treetop Perch for Tropical Researchers

BYLINE: Ceci Connolly, Special to The Washington Post

To get to work most mornings, Klaus Winter steps into a steel box no bigger than a telephone booth, raises a dusty walkie-talkie to his lips and directs his driver: "Vamos arriba." 

  The man at the controls of the giant crane shifts gears and maneuvers Winter nearly 150 feet off the ground. There before him is a million-dollar vista. To the west stands the Bridge of the Americas, greeting a queue of ships awaiting passage through the Panama Canal. Beside the bridge is the neighborhood of Casco Viejo, or "old compound," with its distinctive colonial plazas and crumbling stone churches. And straight ahead, glistening in the placid Pacific Ocean, are the reflections of a dozen glass-and-steel skyscrapers.

  Though he makes the trip regularly, Winter is thrilled by the scenery. "That's an iguana," he exclaims as a three-foot-long creature waddles along a thick branch. "And that is a perezoso, one of those lazy animals," he says, pointing to a massive furball also known as a sloth. He spots a Cecropia tree, the Ficus insipida and best of all, a new discovery. "This vine," he says, dangling over the side of the basket, "I haven't seen this before." 

  Oh, yes, he agrees, the skyline and ocean are lovely; the animal sightings a rare treat. But what keeps Winter coming back to this urban rain-forest perch, despite the queasiness he experiences high in the air, are the plants. "This is the best place in the tropics to do research," he declares.

  As a plant physiologist on the isthmus of Panama, Winter is uniquely positioned to delve into one of the most complex tropical ecosystems on Earth. And he does it from a unique observation deck  --  a massive construction crane installed by the U.S. government in Panama City's MetropolitanNaturalPark. Where once he relied on students to climb up and fetch specimens, Winter now spends entire days in the lush canopy, studying the diverse flora without disturbing a single leaf.

  Winter is one of 35 staff scientists at the Smithsonian Tropical Research Institute (STRI), the only Smithsonian bureau based outside the United States. Smithsonian scientists first traveled to Panama in 1910, examining the potential environmental impact of constructing a canal. A decade later, with thousands of canal workers dying from tropical illnesses such as malaria, researchers opened a small laboratory on BarroColoradoIsland to develop strategies for combating disease-carrying mosquitoes.

  Today, the STRI is a $30 million international research center that capitalizes on the rich mix of insects, animals, plants and marine life in the region. So far this year, institute scientists have published more than 200 articles in peer-reviewed journals.

  From a research perspective, Panama is like "no place else on the planet," said STRI Director Ira Rubinoff, a biologist who arrived here as a student 40 years ago and never really left. When the isthmus was formed some 3 million years ago, he said, it created a "bridge for animals and humans" to travel between North and South America, and a "barrier for marine organisms" that had moved freely between the Atlantic and Pacific oceans.

  "When our nation expanded, we went West," Rubinoff said. "The only tropical regions we have under the U.S. flag are islands, such as Guam and Puerto Rico, which have limited flora and fauna and are vulnerable to invasions from the mainland, so they are not as interesting to study. Panama allows for research on a mainland tropical location."

  Competing for dollars and attention against Smithsonian stars such as the zoo's pandas, the Hope Diamond and John Glenn's Mercury spacecraft, the STRI is a largely undiscovered, underappreciated gem. Five years ago, the Office of Management and Budget advocated moving the Smithsonian's research programs, including the STRI, to the National Science Foundation. Two prestigious panels persuaded the White House to abandon the plan, but Rubinoff continues to raise private donations. About $7 million in trust funds helps insulate STRI researchers from budget wrangling in Washington and gives them flexibility to study "serendipitous" events such as the El Niño phenomenon, he said.

  Rubinoff gives the eclectic group of botanists, archaeologists, anthropologists, ecologists and biologists wide latitude to pursue projects sparked largely by their curiosity.

  That has enabled Catherina Caballero and colleagues to prospect for potential new medicines in Panama's extensive collection of plants and coral reefs. Working with Novartis Pharmaceuticals and experts at the University of Utah, local chemists and botanists methodically collect and test samples, searching for compounds that demonstrate activity against illnesses such as AIDS, cancer and malaria. It will likely be years before the work leads to new drugs  --  if it ever does, Caballero said. But she points to Taxol, a breast cancer treatment derived from the Pacific yew, as inspiration to keep digging. 

  For more than 20 years, the STRI has compiled a detailed census of a 123-acre undisturbed plot on BarroColoradoIsland. The survey, updated every five years, enables researchers to track long-term shifts in the forest. Identical projects are underway in 16 other locations including Malaysia, Ecuador and Colombia. The teams have identified some 6,000 tree species, all compiled in a database.

  "The rain forests of the world are our lungs," Rubinoff said. "If we are worried about global warming, we need to understand the carbon cycle. And you can't know there's a 10-year cycle until you observe it. Some things can't be rushed."