Juvenile Rufescent Tiger Heron at Cocha Lobo (Oxbow lake)

Friday, June 27, 2008

Today was the first day that we’ve had sun in 6 days. Early morning was cloudy, but by the time I returned from a hike with students studying medicinal plants, the sun was blazing in the bright blue sky. I hurried back to my cabin and collected the pile of clothes I had accumulated over the week. Washing them in the deep concrete sinks with vigorous strokes and a rough plastic brush, I did my best to scrub the grime from my clothing. No matter how many times I rinsed them, the water turned a murky color from the dirt, sweat, and humidity which had permeated every fiber of every shirt and sock. Wringing the water from each thread, I hung the sopping clothes to drip-dry in the blazing sun knowing perfectly well that even though it was only 11 a.m., they would still not dry in this humid climate. Becoming accustomed to wearing damp, musty, moldy clothes is just another fact of life in the Amazon. I do not mind washing my clothes…if only they could dry.

Andes to the Amazon with wild ducks

I helped Antonio this afternoon, serving as a guide’s assistant. The group of students studying medicinal plants was eager to explore the trail system and examine the various properties of the plants, testing Antonio’s knowledge of the cultural and medicinal uses of the plants and trees in the jungle. Walking to Pozo Don Pedro, we hoped to catch sight of the anacondas inhabiting the small cocha. Since it was the first sunny day in a week, our chances were good. I steered the catamaran (two canoes connected with platform in the middle) around the cocha while Antonio stood on his tiptoes trying to spot the smooth, dark scales of an anaconda ensconced in the grasses. We could clearly make out its normal sun spot as the grasses were flattened to an area the size of a double bed, but alas, no anacondas were in sight.

Saturday, June 28, 2008

This morning I woke with sunshine streaming through the screen walls of my cabin. I woke without an alarm just in time for breakfast and dressed, putting on my green linen pants and a soft merino wool shirt. After eating pancakes with honey, I sat in the sunshine on the porch with Mini. A fly had laid larvae into her finger and she needed someone to remove the creatures from her skin. Susan retrieved her insect dissecting kit and I carefully pulled away the skin from her fingertips to remove the minute larvae. Though they were quite deep, the skin of the hands, especially of the fingertips is fairly thick, so she was not in any particular pain. Susan was less lucky last week—Lisseth dug a larva from her back with her dissecting kit and the pressure from her fingernails.

Later Mini began to demonstrate Indian dances for Oli and Pepi, turning our beautiful sun shiney morning into a dance class. We danced for an hour, showing each other dances that we knew. I showed them a bit of salsa and tango, telling them about my experiences in Costa Rica and living with Andrea (my Spanish exchange student).

After lunch, Mini approached me and asked if I could help her and Susan do an autopsy on a huangana (wild peccary) found that morning near Cocha Lobo. I was more than willing to help decapitate a wild pig and check out its innards, so was ready in minutes. Just as we were leaving, Susan realized that she forgot her headlamp (a necessary safety precaution in case we find ourselves out after dark) and ran back to camp to retrieve it from her cabin. As I was sitting in the grass waiting for her and Mini to return, I heard two distinct gun shots coming from Cocha Lobo…. I informed them of my observations as soon as they returned and we proceeded as planned, but with wide eyes.

Shot Gun Wound, Huangana (Peccary)

The land around CICRA is protected, making hunting illegal. It’s simply a matter of safety—scientists and hunters in the same field do not mix well. So far no one’s been hurt, but we hope to never reach that point. The hunters are generally local gold miners who frequent the bars and do not hesitate to hunt while drinking or drunk. For this reason, Nigel and Renata have forbidden me to walk alone in case I encounter a miner on the path. A lonely miner who finds a young girl in the middle of the jungle would have no reason to turn the opportunity down and I prefer not to intentionally walk into such a situation.

After 30 minutes of walking, we finally found the huangana sprawled dramatically in the brush 10 meters from the trail. We set up the dissection supplies and I was given instructions on what supplies to give and when. We did not want to contaminate our packs with the huangana’s bacteria, not knowing what it could be carrying and what we could spread or contract as a result. I began recording the location of the pig and its current condition with my camera. After recording its original location, Mini and Susan dragged the heavy pig (50-60 lbs?) to a spot that Susan cleared with a machete where we could sit and work. We planned to collect samples of blood, spinal fluid, and pulmonary fluid assuming the lungs had not collapsed.

Just as we began to do the autopsy, I heard a sound on the trail just 10 meters from the peccary. Absorbed in a deep discussion involving the location of the first cut, Mini and Susan were unaware of the approaching footsteps. My first thought was that Emeterio must have decided to help the three tough jungle girls, re-obtaining his manhood by volunteering for the gruesome task at hand. However I knew Emeterio would not stand and peer at us suspiciously through the thick undergrowth as if he did not want to be seen, just as this man was doing. Hunched over, he crouched lower upon realizing that I was aware of his presence and we cautiously observed each other. I couldn’t see his expression or if he had a weapon, but I did know that he was a local miner, the source of the gunshots heard 5 minutes before our departure. Abruptly, he stood and started walking. Startled by his sudden change, I called out “Hola!” receiving a muffled greeting in reply, as if out of breath. Seconds later I understood why, and Susan, Mini, and I watched in a nervous trance as the man

Cutting through the skin to retrieve pulmonary fluid, we had no success—the lungs had collapsed (either from the gunshot wounds or being dead for 2 days). Every move we made stirred up the hundreds of flies and bees that laid so thick, the huangana’s skin crawled to life. The smell was worse, almost nauseating, but thanks to a Tom Robbins novel, we were inspired to coat our face masks in cinnamon, a smell opposite that of death and decay. Granted, we couldn’t stop sneezing, but the permeating smell of rotting corpse became bearable and we eventually forgot about the odor. Walking back to camp, our confused noses sorted through the collage of smells: sweat and cinnamon, rotting corpse and humid forest air. Upon returning, I quickly stripped myself of my putrid clothing, throwing it onto my front porch as soon as possible to prevent any lingering odors from making themselves at home in my room.

Sunday

Today was a relaxed day at the station. It’s quite hot and humid and time for me to organize photos. I have taken several hundred already, and keeping them organized is tedious and mind numbing. I have to be careful not to delete things until I have stored them both on my laptop and my external hard drive and even then, am careful to know WHICH drive I am sending things to and if I have already sent them or not. Dull, yes, but necessary.

After organizing photos for 3 hours, my computer battery died and I had to change my plans. The electricity is turned off during the day to conserve power for cooking and light in the evening. It isn’t irritating to realize that I can’t sit in front of my computer anymore—not because I dread the work and count down the seconds till I’ve finished but because there is no reason anybody should be sitting in front of a plastic lighted screen when living in one of the most beautiful places in the world.

After lunch, we played an aggressive game of volleyball, spiking, jumping, and digging, doing our best to keep the red and blue ball on the other side of the net. Diego and I worked together, me setting him up and him spiking after blocking the bumps and spikes from the other side. Drenched in sweat, covered in sand, and sore from bee stings, Diego, Susan, Lisseth, Edgar, and I raced down the 236 stairs to the river banks, splashing loudly as we approached knee deep water to scare away the rays and caiman lurking beneath the surface. Diego chucked a handful of sand at me and I responded instantly, chasing him up and around the river bank. Just as I was about to reach him, we both started breaking through a layer of misleadingly solid sand to the depths of a hot mud bath. Delighted by our discovery, we started rolling around, breaking the top layer of sand and exposing the warm, smooth mud and silt. We all covered ourselves in mud to protect ourselves from the ravaging bug bites on the water’s edge, rubbing it in each other’s hair and faces. I had mud in my nose, ears, eyes, and mouth and ran to wash myself in the muddy river water.

Monday, June 31

Today is Mini Watsa’s second to last day and she was determined to see the anaconda before she left. Eight of us put on our boots and covered our bare arms in deet. Thirty minutes later we reached Pozo Don Pedro and jumped atop the catamaran, spacing ourselves so it wouldn’t flip. We began the slow, gentle paddle around the lake, keeping our eyes open for a thick trunk the size of a football players thighs or a head the size of a football, but to no avail. Just as we were ready to turn back, someone cried in surprise at the sight of the abominably huge reptile basking directly in front of the boat. Except for the feeling that we were being carefully watched, the giant made no move. Paddling closer, we drifted within 8 feet of its glistening scales, some of us holding our breath and others chattering nervously. The only person who was not remotely scared was Brian. Chuckling mischievously, he began to back the boat within 1.5 meters from its elegant head. Arrogantly chatting away with a coquettish grin on his face despite our adamant protests he leaned closer to death, smiling cheerfully at the prospect of the anaconda exposing the two rows of teeth just under the charcoal diamond patterned scales. Mini grimly told me at that point that anacondas have a special tube to breath with when they swallow prey. Trembling and grinning at his idiocy, we took over the boat and moved away from the lazy creature and back to CICRA.

Wednesday, July 02, 2008

This morning we said our goodbyes to Antonio, Megan, and Mini as they set off for their respective homes in India and Boston. Hugging and hoping to see one another again as is custom to saying goodbye (whether it’s true or not—but true in this case), we continued with our day knowing that though we loved Mini, there would always be someone new.

The hard drive on my laptop is about to explode with the inundation of photographs and music from the past three weeks. Though I brought an external hard drive, I use it as a backup and don’t want to have all the information from my photographs in just one place. So this means I need to clear old programs, documents, photos, and music that I don’t listen to in order to keep downloading an average of 60 photos per day. I spent most of my morning organizing old folders and making new ones in order to START deleting information. As there is not generally any electricity during the day, I only had three hours to work, but completed a significant amount of much procrastinated work.

At 10, Brian Phillips and I took a walk down Carrizo, Yugonturo, Otorongo, and back via Primer Mirador in hopes of catching sight of the toucan that had been calling all morning. We walked slowly, stopping at every noise in hopes of catching a rare sight of a mammal or exotic bird. We did not find the toucan, but did come across the Saki monkeys that Dara and Gordon are studying. Noting their location and the time at which we saw them (in order to tell Dara), we watched them courageously leap from tree to tree, liberally calling and chirping to one another. Just as Brian started to explain that Saki’s enjoy urinating on observers from their 20 meter perches, he felt some warm drips hit his glasses and collar from an unnoticed Saki sitting just above us. Groaning and giggling, we both ran out of range, turning onto primer mirador.

Halfway back to camp, we could see two figures sitting cross legged on the ground, taking measurements and notes of an object invisible to our eyes. Will and Claire had called in an ant bird and were tagging, measuring, and taking blood samples of the innocent, wide-eyed creature trembling in their warm hands. I quietly snapped a couple of photos, not wanting to stress the bird or annoy the workers as a previous photographer had done, invasively leering into the bird’s dark eyes as its heart beat to a bursting point. They showed us the path where they had set up the bird nets and we tiptoed toward it in hopes of seeing more birds. Sure enough, a small wood creeper had severely entangled itself in the invisible black netting and I called for help. Will jumped up to help while Claire finished the notes on the bird they had intentionally caught. It seemed that the bird was hopelessly tangled, but Will quietly set to work, his large but deft hands weaving the weightless creature in and out of loops, removing it from the phantom hand who had so suddenly taken away the glorious dignity of flight.

After lunch, I played a quick game of volleyball and had a quick siesta. Following my new ritual, I collected my water bottle and camera at five and went to sit in the sandy outcrop to listen to the drippy call of the ORIPENDULA (Sp?) and watch the raging red sunset.

Thursday, July 03, 2008

I’m looking forward to traveling with mom at the end of the trip. We are hoping to travel in the highlands in the area of Huancayo or Huaraz. If we go, she'll either have to bring me some clothes or I'll have to buy some stuff. It looks cold as hell. However, I want her to bring me some clothes anyway (specifically underwear...I haven't worn any in days since it's all moldy and I don't want to risk a UTI) haha. Plus a nice CLEAN DRY shirt. ahhh...I've forgotten what it's like to have nice smelling clothes. We're so out of touch in the US.

Today was positively baking. I walked with Brian, a 55 year old Welsch man who has the body of a 65 year old but the attitude and cheer of a 20 year old, and we changed insect traps around the oxbow lakes. Brian is incredibly goofy and always up for a laugh. He's in the process of getting out of a rocky marriage, so at times you can sense a slight tension in him (which stands out since the Amazon isn't generally a stressful place) but otherwise he's kept around for a constant stream of conversation and laughs. He says exactly what he thinks, which is generally reasonable and a bit stubborn too.

This afternoon I moved into Mini's old cabin just off the main campus in the forest. It's a small platform cabaña with a palm roof and screens all the way around, affording no privacy except for the dense brush cover. I don't have electricity in my 10x10 cabin, nor running water, which I actually find quite appealing. The bathroom is just 20 meters down the path, but I have several water bottles in my room which I use to brush my teeth. Even though I can’t claim to be roughing it, I feel much more at peace in my private cabin. My home will follow closely with the dynamics of the woodland light and air since it's entirely open to the elements except for screens and a palm roof. Before, I felt much more sheltered and less homey in my shared cabin. Now that I have a place to call my own, I'll never want to leave. :)

As soon as I unpacked and organized everything, I made my bed and lay down enjoying the sounds of the birds and the distant giggles of Nigel's daughters as they played in the sandy pathway that led to the cabins. Asleep in minutes, I awoke to the last rays of sunshine streaming through the dusty cabin screens and walked down the path to the bathroom. Just as I was walking back, I heard the tinkle of a nylon stringed guitar and stopped to listen to Will pass the time with music. Walking quietly, but still making him aware of my presence, I sat on the steps of his porch and listened for a while, losing myself in my thoughts. After listening for 30 minutes I returned to my cabin, read another chapter of The Count of Monte Cristo and went to the comedor at 6 to work on my photos now that the electricity had been turned on for the evening.

Friday, July 04, 2008

Ahhh, it's so beautiful today and I LOVE my little cabin. It's the first one on the left just as you leave the soccer field. So not only is it close, but it's quiet and private. What a treat after living in a dorm all year! When I go back to school I'll never be able to sleep since I'll miss the peace (yet noisiness) of the jungle. I can't stop thinking about how this place is just so ALIVE. The sounds, movements, people, thoughts, animals, whatever! This is my kind of city. People know each other, learn from each other, and are still free to be themselves in a beautiful, mostly stress free, sunny environment.

I HAVE 82 BUG BITES AND 2 TICKS. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA….I NEED NEW SKIN!

Today I pulled a stack of books from the library shelves to start reading about the geology, geography, natural history, culture, biology and ecology of the Amazon. I’m starting with a beautifully photographed book called “El Paraíso Amazonico del Perú: MANU Parque nacional y Reserva de la Biosfera”. Though I’m not actually in Manu, I’m just downstream and can see the same flora and fauna—just not as abundantly.

The Manu area was industrialized in the 1830’s by the rubber boom. The industry abandoned by the 1960’s converted to the harvest of hard woods such as tropical cedar and mahogany for the making of fine furniture and cabinets. Biologist Celestino Kalinowski was raised in the forest by his father who had escaped the Russian jail by convincing the Czar to allow him one chance to prove himself—which he did by shooting and stuffing a giant polar bear in the attack position. The elder Kalinowski moved to Peru where he raised his son in the jungle, giving him a lifetime experience in biology and natural history. This empowered Celestino to recognize the particular beauty of Manu as he was one of few who recognized the rarity of the abundance of large mammals which had otherwise been overhunted for their skins. So, during the beginning of the lumber boom in the 60’s, he lobbied to protect the forest and succeeded. Manu was first named as a state park, then as a national park. Finally, UNESCO named it a world heritage site, a position held by only 200 places in 55 countries (64).

Tropical rainforests cover less than 7% of the earth’s surface, but host over 50% of the world’s species. Manu, extending from 13,786 to 1,200 feet contains more species of plants and animals than any other reserve of equal size on the earth (71).

Medicinal plants: 25% of all drugs found in modern pharmacies are derived or copied from those found in the rainforest. (77)

Giant otters (lobos del río): The otters actually hunt caiman 5 feet and under by attacking their soft underbellies, then eating their head, body, and tail. The otters grow up to 6 feet in length and a full grown male eats an average of 10 lbs. of fish each day. They are extremely rare from overhunting for their precious skins (as well as the black caiman). (86)

Epiphytes: plants that live on other plants and take their nutrients and moisture from their surroundings and not the ground.

Saturday, July 05, 2008

I woke this morning feeling nauseous. Eating cautiously, I drank plenty of water, had a vitamin C, and lay on the couch reading about the natives of Peru in the Manu region. It was hot by 8 a.m. so I did not feel much better as the day went on, but I didn’t get worse either. After lunch, I feel asleep on the couch and woke an hour later feeling refreshed like the beginning of a new day. Giving Karina Salas a quick lesson on conversation after my nap, we chatted about her plans here at CICRA and what she has been learning in her English classes. We plan to have 20-30 minute conversation each day covering every tense and as much vocabulary as possible. Karina is intelligent and prepared to speak English, but she needs to build confidence and learn how much she already knows.

Nigel, Susan, and I went to Boca, a 10 family community just downstream of CICRA and witnessed the melancholy beauty of the Boca Amigos mining village. It was both interesting and sad to see the immense destruction of the land rendering it entirely useless. Here, they dug a 40 foot pit and continuously eroded the soil to loosen it and filter the minute flecks of gold from the clumps of dirt. The roar of the generator amongst the fallen trees and clear cut soil gave a sense of destruction which only seems to describe a battle scene--but a battle waged against Mother Nature.

The children of Boca Amigos showed us the mining strip as if it were nothing—and to them it is just another aspect of their backyard. As we strolled slowly back to the village, practicing our Spanish with the endless chatter of several 9 year old girls and 2 small boys, we passed a cemetery whose dirt was freshly piled on the grave of Pedro. We stopped to pay our respects, holding hands in a semi circle in a passive silence that never seems to exist in children except in confusion—and in this case, death.

Back at the village general store, I picked up chocolate, candles, and a lighter for my new cabin…no electricity, so everything after 5 is done by candle-light. Arriving at CICRA just as it was becoming dark, we spotted two white caiman sitting on the sandy beach by the boat launch. Mouths drooping open as if expecting their prey to just trip over the sand bar and fall inside, they remained frozen as we observed them laying camouflaged in the sand.

Sunday, July 06, 2008

This morning was a maintenance day. I shaved Will’s head, letting the hair float away in the gentle breeze. Then I decided to get a trim myself, so I asked Susan to cut my hair. Her mom runs a dog grooming business so I assumed Susan might know something about hair cutting (I just hoped I wouldn't end up looking like a poodle). Snipping away, she managed to do a nice job, and my head and neck feel much cooler and lighter.

Afterwards, I picked up my book and continued to search and identify flora and fauna I had been observing in the forest. This is not easy since there is such an overwhelming abundance of flora and fauna that it’s difficult to know where or what to start with. The thick brush makes it difficult to spot fauna (ex: When walking to my cabin, I walked past a group of monkeys that were 4 feet from my head at eye level), and the plants grow in such numbers of species and subspecies that the only thing that I am able to see is the Triplaris plant (which I helped Adriana collect for her thesis) and various wild red ginger flowers.

I’ve nearly finished clearing old photos off my hard drive…which means I need to delete my music next. This is such a painful chore since I need to be careful (especially with the photos) to not delete anything special. Plus the electricity is so dodgy that as soon as I get on a roll, the power goes out and I have to find something else to do—not that I mind, really, but it’s hard to complete anything.