If you are wandering through a Panamanian rainforest at night and suddenly spot what appears to be a furry coconut covered in knitting needles slowly climbing a tree, congratulations. You have probably found one of Panama’s most bizarre and fascinating mammals: the porcupine.
And despite looking like nature accidentally combined a rat, a cactus and a medieval weapon, Panama’s porcupines are remarkably well adapted to life in the tropical forest.
They are also considerably more interesting than the North American porcupine many people picture when they hear the word “porcupine.” Panama’s porcupines belong to the New World porcupine family, Erethizontidae, and many are tree climbing specialists. One of the forms recorded from Panama is the Rothschild’s porcupine, Coendou rothschildi, a species associated with Panama and Colombia. The Smithsonian Tropical Research Institute has documented this porcupine in Panama, and historical specimens include animals from the Boquete area.
The porcupine that lives in the trees
One of the first things that surprises visitors is that these are not primarily lumbering animals wandering around on the forest floor.
They are arboreal, meaning they spend much of their lives in trees. Their claws and gripping tails help them negotiate branches, vines and the tropical canopy. In related prehensile tailed porcupines, the tail is essentially a fifth hand, capable of wrapping around branches and helping the animal maintain its balance while climbing.
Imagine being a rodent that decided, “Walking is overrated. I shall become a furry monkey with spikes.”
That is basically the porcupine's business plan.
Their nocturnal lifestyle makes perfect sense too. During the day, they can rest high in the vegetation, while at night they emerge to search for food. Related Coendou porcupines are known to eat leaves, flowers, shoots, roots and other plant material.
So while you are sleeping, the Panamanian forest is potentially hosting a quiet little vegetarian climbing expedition above your head.
No, it cannot shoot its quills
This is probably the most famous porcupine myth.
Porcupines cannot shoot their quills.
They do not launch them like tiny arrows. The quills are modified hairs that are loosely attached and can come away when a predator makes a very bad decision and gets too close.
And this is where the porcupine's strategy becomes brilliantly simple.
Instead of being fast, terrifying or particularly aggressive, it basically says:
“You can eat me if you really want to. But you are going to regret it.”
If threatened, a porcupine can present its spiny side to a potential attacker. A predator that bites the wrong part of the animal can end up with a mouth, nose or face full of unpleasant souvenirs.
It is an exceptionally effective defence system.
Why do they have all those quills?
Because being delicious is apparently not enough.
The quills are a defensive adaptation that makes attacking a porcupine considerably more complicated than attacking an ordinary rodent. They are particularly useful against predators that rely on grabbing or biting prey.
And there is an amusing difference between the tropical porcupines of Panama and the familiar North American porcupine.
The North American porcupine can carry tens of thousands of quills and spends much more time on the ground, although it is also a capable climber. The tropical Coendou porcupines are much more closely associated with life in trees.
Basically, Panama's version looked at the ground and said:
“Too many predators down there. I'm going upstairs.”
A surprisingly good climber
Seeing a porcupine climbing through the forest is one of those wildlife encounters that can completely change your perception of the animal.
They can move through branches with impressive confidence, using their claws and tail for stability. The underside of the prehensile tail is less heavily armed with quills, allowing it to grip branches.
This is especially useful in a rainforest where the canopy is essentially a gigantic three dimensional highway.
Leaves, branches, vines and tree trunks become roads.
And unlike us, the porcupine doesn't need Google Maps.
They are rodents
Here's another fact that catches people off guard.
Porcupines are rodents.
They are not some strange ancient animal sitting somewhere between a beaver and a hedgehog. They are genuine members of the rodent order.
So when you see one climbing a tree in Panama, you are essentially watching one of the world's most heavily armed rodents going about its evening business.
The family Erethizontidae includes the New World porcupines, and the genus Coendou contains several of the tropical species.
Panama has some particularly interesting porcupines
Taxonomy gets a little messy with Panamanian porcupines, because scientists have changed their understanding of some populations over time.
Coendou rothschildi, commonly called Rothschild's porcupine, was historically described as a distinct Panamanian species. Modern taxonomic work has debated its relationship with other Coendou species, so you may encounter different scientific names depending on the source you are reading. The Mammal Diversity Database currently lists Coendou rothschildi and records its distribution in Panama and Colombia, while noting taxonomic changes involving Coendou quichua.
This is one of the reasons tropical wildlife identification can be more complicated than simply looking at a photograph and saying, “Yep, that's Steve the porcupine.”
Scientists are still refining exactly how some of these populations should be classified.
Why seeing one in Panama is special
Porcupines are not animals you should expect to see every time you walk into the forest.
They are nocturnal, generally solitary and often high in the vegetation, which makes them considerably harder to spot than monkeys, agoutis or birds. Their habit of moving around after dark also means that many people can spend weeks in Panama without ever realizing one was living somewhere nearby.
A nighttime walk through forest can therefore produce a completely different cast of characters.
The daytime belongs to the toucans, monkeys, butterflies and hummingbirds.
After sunset, the forest starts changing.
Suddenly there are bats overhead, frogs calling from puddles, insects appearing everywhere, kinkajous moving through the branches and, if you are extremely lucky, a porcupine slowly making its way through the trees.
And there is something wonderfully ridiculous about encountering one.
You shine your flashlight upward.
There is a pair of eyes.
Then a strange furry silhouette.
Then you realize the entire animal appears to have been decorated with toothpicks.
The porcupine looks at you.
You look at the porcupine.
Nobody moves.
Eventually it continues climbing because it has places to be and leaves to eat.
Don't try to pet the cactus rat
This should probably be obvious, but wildlife has a way of making people temporarily forget common sense.
If you see a Panamanian porcupine, give it space.
It isn't interested in attacking tourists. It would much rather continue its nighttime activities without being bothered. But cornering, grabbing or attempting to touch a porcupine is an excellent way to turn a memorable wildlife encounter into a memorable visit to a medical clinic.
The whole point of the quills is to discourage close contact.
Respect the message.
One of Panama's stranger forest residents
Panama is famous for its spectacular wildlife, but some of the most fascinating animals aren't necessarily the ones appearing on postcards.
A porcupine quietly climbing through a tree at night is a perfect example.
It is a rodent that became an accomplished climber, developed an extraordinary defensive coat, adopted a nocturnal lifestyle and basically turned itself into one of the rainforest's most unusual mammals.
And perhaps that is the best thing about exploring Panama's forests.
You never quite know what is going to appear.
You might see a sloth.
You might see a monkey.
You might see a kinkajou.
Or you might look into the darkness and discover that the tree above you is apparently growing a large, furry, angry pineapple with legs.
That is Panama.
And if you are lucky enough to see a porcupine in the wild, consider yourself very fortunate. Stop, watch quietly, keep your hands to yourself and let the world's strangest-looking rodent continue its nighttime business.