World of Wonders - Playing at Jungle Jane

Sharp, swift, swooshes of a machete echo through the deep Amazon jungle, as an overgrown path is cleared from ever-encroaching plants.

Beads of perspiration roll from the face of the machete wielding foreigner who pauses with an accustomed ear to a series of bid trills. This is no three day Amazon jungle tour, flying in and out.

The Madre de Dios region of Peru is on the edge of the Amazon basin, and borders Bolivia and Brazil. The capital, Puerto Maldonado is accessible by plane or a tough three day truck trip. And now, visitors to this remote region can experience the jungle as volunteers, rather than tourists.

Hence, the machete and the sweat. We are working on holiday, but reaping the rewards of being able to stay in the jungle for longer.

Hot and humid, the wet season is on its way, so we wake with the birds to make the best of the morning cool. The approach of dawn is signalled by the rough clatter of parrots and an increasing crescendo of bird song.

So loud is the din created by the cries of birds, thought becomes difficult. Transfixed, we watch as macaws and toucans fly overhead and smaller brightly coloured birds dart in every direction and the jungle is full of movement. Suddenly, silence falls and it is as if the birds have got over the excitement of a new day, and gone off on their business.

Free of guides spouting facts and figures, volunteers can wander Amazon trails. The sounds are more powerful than surround sound in the cinema. Noises and calls emanate from every leaf and tree - faceless voices speaking of ancient mysteries.

Shapes become apparent, startling in their unique variety amongst the leaves. An abundance of fungi overwhelm with their perfection, sometimes shaped like glassware or like bridal headwear. And once the eye becomes adjusted, huge insects, camouflaged into the foliage emerge like primordial beasts.

We learnt quickly that crashing noises high the jungle canopy signalled, “monkey!” Orange coloured capuchin, with dark faces and forearms gaze at us curiously before bounding away.

Tiny black and white Saddle Backed Tamarin, no bigger than cats, leap through the tree tops in family groups. They scamper up trees only to leap like trapeze artists to a neighbouring tree. Entranced by their performance of acrobatics, we follow them through the jungle like the hunters that still pursue them.

On the edge of the Reserve Zone of the Tambopata National Park, the river edges are farmed and the buffer zones of the park are constantly under pressure from hungry people.

Brazil nuts bring income for many families who harvest the nuts in the wild. Reaching up to fifty metres tall, and living to 1000 years, the Brazil nut is apparently one of the longest living Amazon trees, and certainly one of the most majestic.

The somewhat haphazard network of paths that criss cross the forest all seem to end up at big Brazil Nut trees. This is because every Brazil nut we eat, is harvested from the wild – its impossible to grow the species in plantations. In harvest season, volunteers to the forest are encouraged to wear hard hats as the Brazil nuts fall in solid coconut type shells – one hits you on the head, and you are dead!

The Agouti is an attractive, yet rodent like animal that furtively visits us during the day. It is a characterful animal, that has a special relationship with the Brazil Nut tree. The agouti gnaws through the hard coconut like shells of the Brazil Nut, for the delectable delicacy within. By freeing the Brazil nut from the hard casing it is possible for the seed to germinate.

We become aquainted with a baby agouti who scampers madly back and forth to collect the nuts, picking them up and carrying them back to its store. The Agoutis bury stores of nuts for the dry season and these sometimes grow into trees. As such, the agouti and the Brazil Nut tree rely on one another for survival!

The Brazil nut trees are highly valued and protected from logging, with anyone trying to sell the wood facing prosecution. However, other species of trees remain prey to illegal loggers.

The buzz of a chainsaw is in contrast to the harmonious jungle symphony – the owner of the research centre sets out at a fast pace in pursuit of the chainsaw, and we stumble over trees and logs behind him trying to keep up.

Though the lodge where we are volunteering has conservation rights to this piece of jungle, illegal loggers had taken over twenty great giants a month before our visit. It was a volunteer’s charade of unwitting tourist that provided the necessary evidence to shut down the operation. The loggers had happily posed with their chainsaws and felled trees for photographs, later handed to authorities!

We are silenced by the destruction: gaping gashes in the canopy, and huge patches of blue sky once filled by ancient trees. Sunlight streams on this once moist, dark forest – onto enormous pieces of partially milled, then discarded wood. Adding to the tragedy, perhaps only one third of the wood has been removed for timber. The remainder of the huge forest sentinels decay on the forest floor.

The rapid destruction of the Amazon has been long reported in “football fields per day”. What we saw was a few selectively felled trees, yet it was heart wrenching.

Each tree earns the illegal logger in the vicinity of $1000 US, a fortune in a country where the average labourer makes about $5 per day, and the farmers that live along the river barely make enough to feed their families.

Currently Brazil and Peru are working on a “Carretera Transoceania”, a highway joining the Pacific to the Atlantic. The road is paved, ready to go right to the Peruvian border; it is just this region of the Madre de Dios that remains unfinished.

When the road comes, it will be viewed as the road to richness by the millions of poor in the Andes – creating an influx in immigration and the pressure on the fragile jungle will spiral out of control.

Meanwhile, we are content to swing in our hammocks resting after a day’s work – there is a lot of truth in the saying, “You get out what you put in!”

Home

Top of Page

Privacy