movement 1: the morning sonata

the sounds of the city drifted to a hum as the shifting trucks rattled through cracks in the road forcing the riders to jig in their seats. the sun’s heavy rays rolled along weary backs popping like a snare. at mid-day, the heat tames the forest, the tempo is slow and muddled. sounds meandered from trunk to trunk, where shaded hollows shield sleeping wildlife. after noon, there was an intermission. the sun-beaten visitors circled in chatter, reflecting on the superb acts of the morning.  

movement 2: a slow adagio 

as night rolled in and the clamor and clang of dinner dishes ceased, all visitors retired to their hammocks. there they wrapped themselves in fabrics coated in scents of home. they closed their eyes to reveal lids painted with the stars of a serene night sky. the unseen, skillful singer hummed to them good night lullabies. and though the sleep could only be described as complete peace, they often stirred to the low, gurgling growls of monkeys deep in the darkness offset by sweet chirps swimming from birds’ breasts flickering in the forest foliage.

movement 3: daybreak minuet

at dawn, buzzing cicadas bounced vibrations from tree to tree ushering in the audience and introducing the first round: wisps, whips, and whistles whirling across treetops, whispering to the crowd below. the meter quickly was uncovered by restless flies for their masterful demonstration. waving trees, free-falling leaves, and the decomposing matter on the forest floor, too, displayed a capability to dance about the scenery with expert sonic capacity; truly, they proved to be the liveliest of the bunch. spotted skipping above the shading, petite primates conducted the vegetation in 4/4. the morning composition was soon to reach its climax – but, for that the musicians needed silence, not excitement. experienced artists know how to make a scene whole: sometimes one must step aside. the wind, she was delicate, shy, and moved with secrecy; so, with swift elegance she navigated her way. upon her arrival, the act reached its pinnacle. as she departed, it dissipated into the rain.

movement 4: final allegro 

the evening was the act of the duets – all solo specialists retired for the day following the imposing performance at noon. all voices, all vibrations, paired. each body dedicated itself to magnifying the other. this wasn’t simply harmonizing, but magnetizing, drawing together both players and drawing the ears of all listeners. the result was nothing less than the creation of a single essence; a buzz to a chirp, a ring to a thump, a rustle to a breeze.

sounds of a natural melody

in the amazon no sound fights for dominance, and no sounds fight for a place. all cast members of the musical give room for the next one in. by relinquishing control over the external world, one gains complete control of their self and their sound.

the amazon conducts the sounds of biodiversity with great mastery. hierarchy is its great baton; there cannot be balance without it. some shall sing fortissimo one moment while others sing pianissimo, and their positions can switch fluidly with the measure. the spotlight is wide and bright. the symphony would not progress so seemingly effortlessly if not for this understanding. birds in the canopy sing with excellency, yet they cannot thump in the tree trunks below.   

however, the ear of the performer is not the same ear possessed by the listener. the audience has not studied the nuances of tone and volume made second nature for the musicians and conductor after years of sitting in the fire learning from life.

for many listeners, as the howler monkeys play fortissimo at 5 am and the crickets play mezzo piano underneath, the crickets sit in the background far beneath howler monkeys, and instead of keeping rhythm, maintaining pace, and accentuating the roars of the beast – it’s their time to shine as well. in fact, without the crickets, the howler monkeys’ roar would serve only as a somber moan and not as an enthusiastic declaration of their entrance. much in the same way a saxophone cannot dazzle the crowd with a melodic masterpiece if the drums do not stay in the pocket to be felt.

our interpretation of the sonic landscape being built on the ends of our ears appear drastically different when the barriers we build around each individual performer are absolved and their sounds are given the freedom to interlope, overlap, and support one another. of course, this is not a concept ingrained into the listener. therefore, most listeners must actively work to tear down those artificial walls built around the musicians and their instruments.

for many listeners who sit down and listen to a concert, the measure of music quality is the similarity in skill level between all performers on their respective instruments, not discern a complete. for a piece to pass into the threshold of immaculate, all players must execute with precision; if they play their part then it will come together as it says on the paper. and while, only the proven play on the highest stage, a robotic performance is far from exceptional.

the squirrel monkeys that skip from branch to branch do not do so with an impervious cadence, the buzzing insects do not rumble a continuous vibration, and the wind, with her paralyzing performance, leaves gaps of hesitation at her climax.

these performers do not play the same part in different ways, but play different parts in different ways. the excitement of the concert comes to those who devote time and effort to break down those interloping barriers; to let loose a wide-ranging palette of sounds and colors that come from the imperfections of the amazon’s musical masters. that the sonorous conservatory of the amazon can produce a sound that suggests uniformity with a cast of eccentric characters is what makes this the lauded exhibition that it is.

working out of small research camps deep in the jungle, out of cell and internet range, for sometimes weeks and months on end, these researchers have not only generated crucial data that is safeguarding the rainforest ecosystem, but also developed a training system for an entire new generation of conservation scientists who are reshaping the brazilian scientific and political community.

as global climate change accelerates and deforestation rates in the amazon rainforest reach a five-year high, their work may hold the key to the survival of both the rainforest and the global human community that depends on it.

the rainforest fragments project: a grand experiment

the strident shrieks of a macaw rang out over my head as i walked down the tiny, muddy footpath that wound around giant ferns and towering banyan-like trees. around our single-file group, the rainforest sung with a thousand voices of cicadas, insects, and birdsong, interrupted suddenly by a scattershot of crashes signaling the arrival of a troop of capuchin monkeys.

a few hundred feet later, a brilliant blue morpho butterfly bigger than my hand floated across the trail like a wandering will-o’-the-wisp, disappearing back into the shadowy green tapestry of undergrowth. walking through this experience like a child in wonderland, i almost forgot that i was in the middle of a giant science experiment: brazil’s biological diversity of forest fragments project.

spanning roughly 100 square kilometers — that’s about 25,000 acres — the biological dynamics of forest fragments project, or bdffp for short, is the largest and longest running ecological study in the world. for nearly four decades, the researchers here have been studying a collection of “forest fragments” — large squares of untouched rainforest standing in former farmland that mimic the isolated patchwork increasingly being created throughout the amazon by human clearing and burning activities.

dr. jose luis camargo, an expert plant ecologist and the director of field research at bdffp, was our guide to the mysteries of the forest. with twinkling eyes and a knack for talking perfectly normally about waking up in his hammock next to a tarantula, camargo has over 30 years of experience in the rainforest and trains the graduate students who form the heart and soul of bdffp. he shared his knowledge with us with the warm voice of a lifelong teacher, tinged with deep reverence for the ecosystem he studies.

“we have a series of fragments here of different sizes — 1, 10, and 100 hectare fragments — as well as matching plots in the continuous forest,” camargo said.  

the uniqueness of this setup is that it allows the researchers to compare the populations of trees and animals in the nearby continuous forest to those in areas that are cut off, or “fragmented,” from the main ecosystem, he explained.

some of these differences need no scientific training to recognize — for example, the blue morphos and monkeys that mesmerized me in the continuous forest plots were conspicuously absent when we visited a forest fragment — but other changes can be more subtle. forest fragments are drier, camargo told us, and the trees are more vulnerable to being felled by wind storms. some species of birds that thrive in deep shade vanish from edges of the fragments. 

there are dozens of studies at bdffp on the effects of fragmentation on the populations of bats, snakes, butterflies, and even termite, but the two most important data sets come from monitoring birds and trees, camargo said. the tree biodiversity census in particular, provides the researchers with an instrument to measure the pulse and vital signs of the forest- how many trees die, how many grow, and how the species diversity changes. 

“[in total], we are monitoring trees in almost 100 hectares spread in this forest — something like 66,000 individual trees,” camargo said.

“in the last 10 years, we added another area of 25 hectares to the study and in this case we got kind of crazy and we measured and marked all trees bigger than 1 centimeter across. that was about 250,000 trees.”

it is field research on a scale that is difficult to grasp. but despite its grandeur, the foundations of bdffp originated from a single innovative idea by one scientist trying to understand the richness and interconnectedness of natural life and find out how society could best preserve it.

the ‘godfather of biodiversity’

in 1976, young u.s. scientist thomas lovejoy, in search of a “scientific adventure,” flew to the amazon for the first time to study bird populations. back then, only a single highway crossed the mighty rainforest, which at the time was 3% deforested (today deforestation is at 20%).

lovejoy was working as employee no. 13 for a budding organization called the world wildlife fund, and a debate was raging in the conservation community as to whether it was best for species to try to protect a single large area of land or several small fragments adding up to the same area. it was, lovejoy recalls, “white hot as only an academic controversy can be when there is no data.”

his days in brazil, however, gave the young lovejoy an idea about how to get that data.

“i knew there was a law that required any ranching project in the amazon to leave 50% of the land in forest. suddenly, i wondered if you could persuade the brazilians to arrange that 50% so we could have a giant experiment,” lovejoy said.

despite facing skepticism, lovejoy got a plane ticket back to the amazon. within hours of meeting with the brazilian officials, he had secured the permission of every major agency to supervise the land clearing and arrange to leave giant squares of forest intact. the bdffp was born.

the effect the new research project had on rainforest policy in brazil was nearly immediate and very far-reaching, lovejoy said, even though it took more than a decade to get solid data on exactly how much biodiversity was being affected by fragmentation.

“every protected area created once we started this was really large, and they only got larger. they knew we were asking the question, and they concluded that large was probably important.” lovejoy said.

as it turned out, large was indeed important when it came to the health of an ecosystem. for example, the team found that even their largest 100 hectare fragment would lose half of all its interior forest bird species in less than 15 years if it was isolated from the main forest. in a year’s time, 30% of the trees died off in the fragments, compared to 5% in the un-fragmented forest.

“when you take a cookie-cutter to the forest you start the whole process of species loss.” lovejoy said, summarizing the conclusions of over three decades of research that have earned him the title “godfather of biodiversity.”

“it’s sort of like a radioactive mineral, which loses radioactivity, but instead these fragments lose species.”

a training place for environmental scientists

due in no small part to the work of bdffp, about 60% of the amazonian rainforest is currently under government protection from logging, mining, or other developments. but perhaps even more important than the results of the data were the impacts on brazil’s scientific community from young graduate students who, for the first time, had the opportunity to conduct in-depth research on ecological issues in a rich and immersive environment.

“i didn’t realize at first the potential for capacity building that was here. when i first got here, there was very little research going on and what was going on was basic research,” lovejoy said.

“now, brazil has one of the largest groups of conservation biologists of any country other than a first world country, and probably more than some of them.”

more than 80 researchers currently work at bdffp, including a population of about 45 graduate students, a majority of which are brazilians, who cycle through in the process of completing their master’s or ph.d. degrees. they are housed in seven field research camps scattered around the forest plots, equipped with hammocks, running water, and cooking facilities. most of the students have their first experience of the amazon ecosystem here, camargo said.

“we are really proud at bdffp that we are increasing the number of trained people in conservation and in ecology in general,” camargo said.

“we not only just train them but we try to give some incentive to stay in the amazon. this place needs more trained people to deal with the complexity of the forest and the public politics for this forest,” he said.

cassiano gatto is one of those students who decided to dedicate himself to the amazonian region. now a ph.d. candidate, gatto has been working for six years at bdffp leading research into the effects of fragmentation on birds. he’s an avid birder: the kind who can casually identify the latin names and subspecies of birds by their individual voices while strolling about in some of the earth’s richest avian biodiversity.

“manaus is a mecca for biologists. each one of the places in the amazon has its own secrets, and its own huge richness in species,” gatto said.  

empowering local and native communities to preserve that natural heritage is of particular importance to gatto. he explained that scientists, ngos, and communities are working together to create “sustainable development reserves” — protected areas that allow for people to harvest resources from the land but also include research and education on how to sustainably manage resources and avoid over-exploitation of the rainforest.

“i’m not that guy that is against development,” gatto said. “but it needs to be in a planned way, at least, a rational way, and the benefits must be shared with a lot of people because these are public lands.”

corruption and the lobbying power of a few powerful representatives in brazil’s congress is currently spoiling these public lands, gatto said. recently, brazil’s president michel temer, who is under corruption charges, moved to reduce the consequences for land thieves and dissolved a protected reserve the size of denmark to benefit mining interests.

other students of camargo have gone on to fight such influence directly in brazil’s political sphere. rita mesquita, a bdffp graduate, joined government environmental agencies and at one point became the lead person organizing conservation for the entire state of amazonas.

“my students are my children,” camargo said. “if i can convince my students, in a good way, to solve some problems related to sustainability — not imposing them, just to show some alternatives — then i think i’m doing my part.”

science and education historically has played a crucial role for sustainable development in brazil. in 1979, before bdffp started, a revolutionary brazilian scientist, eneas salati, proved for the first time that the amazon rainforest makes its own rainfall by recirculating rainwater back into the atmosphere. by showing that cutting down the rainforest also would disrupt the hydrological cycle of the entire south american continent, salati laid the groundwork for decades of political conservation action.

today, scientists at bdffp continue salati’s work, charting the growing impact of climate change and deforestation on the the rainforest’s hydrological cycle and educating people about its importance. every year, lovejoy brings celebrities, politicians, and students from brazil and around the globe to the little camps to experience the magnificence of the amazon, and camargo leads brazilian graduate students on a monthlong field course to understand the ecology of the amazon basin.

“we have to change the way the society thinks, and we are going to be able to do that only through education,” camargo said.

the watchtower

the best education also includes moments of deep realization, mingling insight, and awe. mine came on our second day in brazil, when camargo and lovejoy took our group to watch the sunrise over the forest canopy. we woke at 4 a.m. and climbed a watchtower that stands on a biological reserve right at the border between manaus and the forest, the place where city meets jungle.

standing suspended some 150 feet in the air and looking out over the canopy, i was immediately transported to a primeval age. billows of steam streaked with pink and red from a slow sunrise rose from a sea of trees of every possible hue of green and yellow — virgin forest stretching to the horizon. toucans hooted and monkeys barked below me, greeting the new day. 

after nearly half an hour of enrapturement, we looked to the other side of the watchtower. there, glimmering through pre-dawn smog, the thousand lights of manaus with its 2 million inhabitants and counting stretched to another horizon dotted by smokestacks and skyscrapers. the dim sound of motorcycles, cars, and machines came floating on the breeze, mixing with the birdsong. 

it is at the confluence of these two worlds: the primeval and the modern, the natural and the human that the survival of our species may be decided. scientists like gatto and camargo stand at this frontline, a bridge between both worlds. theirs is a science that isn’t merely at the service of development but instead in service to the good of humanity.

“we have no choice but to be optimistic, because otherwise we wouldn’t do anything,” lovejoy said one night in response to a question about the hardships of conservation.

it’s a remarkable statement on the nature of hope that rings even truer since the 2016 election. from the great civil rights movements to the cold war, humanity’s story is one of finding hope in the darkest of places. the crises of climate change, species extinction, and environmental destruction are no different.

when it comes to preserving the rainforest and all of its gifts for future generations, we can find hope in knowing that the world’s next eneas salati or thomas lovejoy might be one of the graduate students trudging through the narrow rainforest paths of the bdffp.
 

a city for the birds

our first day was spent in the bustling and sprawling city of manaus in northern brazil along the banks of the rio negro, just upstream of where its black water meets the white water of the amazon river. as a ‘bird nerd’, i was looking forward to the possibility of seeing different and amazing birds. the open habitats of the river and urban environment provided some of the best looks at birds that have managed to make a living with humans. the birds were hardly shy; many of them hung around the hotel and in the trees along the water’s edge. black vultures were omnipresent, blue-gray tanagers, yellow-browed sparrows, and social flycatchers sat close by intently searching for food, while oropendolas flew back and forth to their bizarre pendulum shaped nests. dragonflies and damselflies perched and patrolled the river, hunting for their own dinner and dessert. unfortunately i was unable to find any books on odonates — an ancient order of carnivorous insects, which includes dragonflies and damselflies — for brazil or the amazon.

into the jungle

we took a boat ride along the rivers to a location where giant lily pads were known to grow. our guide talked to us about the incredible importance of the river and its massive system of tributaries to the local people. it’s a resource for transportation and food, among other things. this was quickly made clear when we passed other tourist boats, enormous tankers, boats with the top floor full of hammocks, and a fisherman speeding by in his skiff. we got off the boat and walked through a flooded forest, known as a varzea, on a very narrow and only slightly claustrophobic boardwalk, while the murky waters of the river slowly crawled beneath us.

here we saw squirrel monkeys climbing around the trees, the first time i had ever seen a monkey not in captivity. but to me, even more intriguing and exciting, was seeing a damselfly that belongs to the family pseudostigmatidae odonate, also known as helicopter damselflies. they are the largest species of damselflies in the world and have the biggest wingspans of any odonate. their larvae live out their lives in water filled tree holes or bromeliads, and specialize in feeding on web weaving spiders. the lily pads at the end of the boardwalk were all bigger than a pizza pie, i couldn’t believe their size. there we saw a small caiman, more dragonflies, and more birds. tomasz falkowski, my fellow birdwatcher, had spotted what we thought was maybe an owl, cryptically perched looking nearly just like a limb of the tree it was on. after looking at the guide, it turned out to be a great pootoo, something he was really hoping to see.

canopy watch

we left manaus early the next morning so that we could watch the sun rise over the rainforest from a tower built 30 meters up into the canopy. here, we saw and heard the forest come roaring to life with birds singing and calling; flying above the trees as the rays of pink and orange sprawled across the sky. from here there was a striking dichotomy: to one direction looked like an endless forest, and to the other direction was an endless city. here i met cassiano gatto, a ph.d. candidate at the national institute of amazonian research (inpa) studying birds in brazil, who was joining us for our trip to camp 41. over the next few days we became buddies as i incessantly asked him about this bird i saw or that bird i heard.

from barren to brimming

after a ride in our four-wheel trucks over some serious terrain, we made a stop at a plot of land that has been used to study the impacts of deforestation on the amazon rainforest for decades. there we saw the effects of increased sunlight and wind penetrating into the forest.

we finished our trip to camp 41 on foot, trekking through the foreign world of the jungle. it was unbelievable to see the density of plant life around us from the floor to the canopy, compared to the plots we had just seen. when we arrived at camp, we were greeted by dr. tom lovejoy and a gorgeous pink and red dragonfly who sat atop our taut clothesline. there was also a group of greater yellow-headed vultures and a young king vulture, who were particularly fond of a dying tree overlooking camp. there they would spend hours soaking up the rays of the sun, wings spread wide.

i quickly learned that in the rainforest you often don’t see the birds, you just hear them, because the majority of them are spending their days 30 meters up in the canopy, through layers and layers of vegetation. luckily, cassiano could name nearly every sound we heard, so i tended to stay nearby him. occasionally we would catch a glimpse through openings created by blowdowns, seeing scarlet macaws and white hawks fly over. after a heavy rain, giant earthworms that can be several feet long emerge, and the hawks had a feast. one of the most fascinating things to me was when we came across a small invasion of army ants crossing the trail. cassiano stopped me and we looked closer, watching them march across, intent on achieving their mission. a short distance away in the forest, he pointed out some rustling in the leaf litter, and a small group of birds calling. there are dozens of birds that specialize at feeding on these ants, following them as they go. we flipped through page after page of these species, and it put me in awe thinking how much ant biomass must be required in the forest to sustain so many birds. a very short distance from camp, we went to see the nest of the most powerful raptor in the world, the harpy eagle. though we didn’t see a bird itself, the massive nest was big enough for myself and a friend to comfortably sleep, and the tree that was managing to hold its entire weight was colossal itself. 

our humble abode

our dwellings back at the camp were humble, we slept in hammocks with a bug net and tin roof over our heads. the food was incredible, and we were free to wash up in a modest pool in the small creek meandering through the forest that had been dammed. 

the camp provided an opening that gave us the best view anywhere of the birds that were around us. i woke up early every morning to stand and listen to those around as they awoke, and cassiano of course helped. when the light began to show some of these denizens, they never disappointed. hummingbirds zipped around and tyrannulet birds hurried through the treetops. possibly, the most striking was an otherworldly looking paradise jacamar that just briefly perched on a branch at the edge of camp. though i wasn’t able to get many decent shots of the birds of the rainforest, i had a little better luck with one of my other favorites, odonates. one afternoon i walked down to the stream with just my camera, and it was more than i could have asked for. i was amazed at the damselflies and dragonflies i saw, as well as their lepidoptera friend. the striking colors and patterns were unlike anything i had ever seen. i haven’t been able to identify the species yet, though one day i may search through identification collections to solve the mystery.

scientists in action

our crew went for several walks with dr. lovejoy’s colleague jose luis (zeluis) camargo who told us more about the incredible watershed system. we went to see some of the student research that was also going on in camp 41. some graduate students were studying the elaborate dance that a species of manakin bird performs on its stage of a downed log, referred to as a lekking site. we also walked to a forest plot where researchers were adding selective nutrients such as phosphorous, nitrogen, and calcium to the soil,  to compare responses between multiple plots. it was intriguing to learn about all of the great research being done in the forest, but more than that, these narrow trails showcased an unbelievable diversity of life.

my trip to the brazilian amazon was unbelievable. i know i’ve used that word on more than one occasion, but it’s the first word i use every time someone asks me about it because i can’t find any better adjective to describe my experience. it was truly amazing to see the beauty and overwhelming diversity of life from a huge river and forest down to a single tree. my story to every person about my trip varies with one detail or another, but the one consistent part of the story is always that i can’t wait to go back.

witness the natural beauties of manaus, brazil. sail through the arteries of the rainforest — the rio negro. shop around at a floating market — a backbone for the country’s tourism industry. go out on a limb at janauari ecological park and check out the giant water lilies that have inspired architecture around the world.

with an open mind and a small green footprint, this 360° video puts the power in your hands. come explore — see for yourself.

this is moving the planet forward.

—

narration by nolan hausler

sources: science alert, world travels, plants of the world online, frontiers in materials science and greenpeace

first, where were the grand cities, like those found in the riviera maya of central america, the incan empire of the andes, or the aztec temples of central mexico?   

second, the effervescence of life in the amazon rainforest is an illusory potemkin village. despite the verdant vegetation and cacophony of life, the soils of the amazon are generally nutrient-poor, rust-colored clay. amazonian soils are generally old and weathered, tired and weary. time has stripped them of their ability to retain the nutrients resulting from organic matter decomposition. plants that survive here must be adapted to efficiently assimilate any available nutrients before they are leached out of the soils by torrential rains. the land could simply not support densely populated, stratified societies (mann, 2012).

finally, indigenous populations are low. some 900,000 indigenous live in brazil today and in the early 1980s, the number was likely lower than 200,000. historians chalked up carvajal’s descriptions to the exaggeration to which many explorers were prone (mann, 2012).

recent research, however, has cast this assumption into doubt. in fact, far from being a green desert largely devoid of human settlements, archaeological, anthropological, ecological, and pedological research suggests that the amazon rainforest may be a cultural artifact engineered by indigenous cultures.

building the rainforest

while archaeologists have uncovered the vestiges of geoglyphs, likely created by amazonian indigenous cultures, most of the construction in the amazon was probably wooden. it was an obvious choice of building material, given its abundance and the rarity of stone in the region. unfortunately, wood decays if not maintained, explaining the lack of ruins in the amazon basin. these indigenous civilizations, however, did bequeath a more perennial stele, one perhaps more inspiring than any ruin: the forest itself (mann, 2012).  

indigenous populations have altered large swaths of the amazon rainforest, particularly near rivers where their settlements were concentrated. they planted a diverse array of fruit and nut trees near their communities, in part to ensure a stable and ample supply of food. unlike most annual commercial crops that strip the soil of nutrients, these tree species are adapted to the nutrient-poor soils of the amazon and cycle nutrients efficiently. they also support wildlife populations, many of which depend upon these trees’ fruits and flowers. this was a way for indigenous peoples to enact their sacred responsibilities to maintain balance between the physical and spiritual forces that permeated their world. even conservative estimates suggest the plant community composition of up to 12% of the amazon rainforest has been altered by indigenous management (mann, 2012).

just as they helped build the forest, so too did indigenous peoples build its soil. to overcome these nutrient limitations, indigenous peoples amended the soil with charcoal, bone, potsherds, and manure. these soot-black, rich soils, known as terra preta have helped recycle nutrients for centuries. to this day, terra preta soil is coveted for its fertility. it is so valuable that local farmers will sell it as potting soil rather than cultivating it. while terra preta is generally concentrated in riparian areas, it covers between 0.1% and 10% of the lowland rainforest in brazil, again demonstrating the extent and degree to which indigenous peoples in the amazon have modified the ecosystems in which they live (lehmann, 2010).

a symbiotic relationship

these are but two examples illustrating how indigenous people around the world have learned to live with the land rather than merely on it. their traditional ecological knowledge is a cumulative body of knowledge, practice, and belief that has adapted to unique sets of environmental constraints and has been handed down from generation to generation using cultural practices and social structures. this knowledge body is expansive and considers the rights and responsibilities they have in relating to one another and nature (berkes, 1999).

the sustainability and ingenuity of this traditional ecological knowledge supported diverse, populous, and complex societies that thrived throughout the amazon basin before europeans arrived. much like the rhizobium bacteria, which provides plants with nitrogen essential for growth in return for sugars from the plants’ photosynthesis, the indigenous peoples of the amazon lived in symbiosis with their environment, taking what they needed and returning the favor to sustain the complex ecosystem on which they relied.

major threats to communities, ecosystem

this was no garden of eden, no paradise lost, but it was a home. in a matter of decades, however, it was laid to waste. in a few tumultuous years of pestilence and misery, european diseases laid waste to indigenous populations throughout amazonia. a wave of death spread out ahead of the european colonists. smallpox and measles were the harbinger of conquest.

by the time the early european explorers probed the interior of the continent, the once multitudinous indigenous communities had been overwhelmed by a pathogenic war of attrition. then, the spanish and portuguese cannons roared, laying the survivors to waste. ninety percent of the indigenous population of the americas was wiped out in a matter of a few decades. conservative estimates hold that 5 million indigenous lived in the amazon in 1500. by 1900, the number had fallen to 1 million (park, 2002).

newcomers to the region still have not developed such nuanced adaptations to place. they impose their will upon the landscape and take what they can rather than heeding its guidance and accepting what it offers. with the construction of the trans-amazonian highway in 1972, farmers poured into the hitherto unfarmed amazonian lowlands.

the highway served as the initial incision, which then splintered out across the landscape as communities sprung up around the highway, easily observed from satellite imagery as the rich carpet of green forest is tattered by patches of brown farms and ranches. these scars tell the stories of the colonists’ dreams — dreams of hope, dreams of greed. the colonists slashed and burned the vegetation that stood in their way, transforming the forest into fields. in so doing, they sowed the seeds of their own destruction alongside their crops.

because amazonian soils are largely infertile, intensive commercial crop cultivation can only be sustained for a few years before production declines. it can be exceedingly difficult for forest to regrow on land that has been cleared and abandoned after farming. seedbanks in cultivated soils are generally non-viable, so forest plants must colonize what the colonists have abandoned (holl, 2007).

seeds that arrive in open fields need to successfully germinate, which is no small task, given the pressures of seed-eating animals and livestock-compacted soils. once plants germinate, the seedlings still need to overcome nutrient limitations, oppressive heat, and dry soils. in many situations, only ruderal vegetation, such as ferns and grasses, can grow rapidly given these hurdles. once these plants gain a stranglehold, they can outcompete any other pioneer species. thus, the engine of agricultural development in the amazon consumes the forest in a vicious, downward spiral (holl, 2007).

road to recovery?

while deforestation rates dropped precipitously after the government enacted regulations in 2004, they have crept upward since 2014. this trend is likely to continue as wealthy landowners pressure the embattled brazilian government to reduce environmental regulations in light of an economic downturn and political upheaval (cowie, 2017).

but this is not a ghost story. it is not a story of surrender. it is a story of resilience, hope, and faith. indigenous peoples have survived and many continue to practice their traditional lifeways. they have not forgotten and they are willing to teach us, if only we are willing to learn. just as the indigenous built the amazon, so too can we rebuild it. but we cannot simply learn what they know of the rainforest. we must learn a new way of living ‒ a new way of relating to one another and to the earth. it is not looking into the past for answers, but rather aspiring toward a common future.

bibliography

• berkes, fikret. sacred ecology. routledge, 1999.
• cowie, sam. “activists decry temer’s amazon deforestation bill.” al jazeera. 22 july 2017.
• holl, karen d. “old field vegetation succession in the neotropics.” old fields: dynamics and restoration of abandoned farmland. by viki a. cramer and richard j. hobbs. island, 2007.
• lehmann, johannes. amazonian dark earths: origin, properties, management. kluwer academic publ., 2010.
• mann, charles c. 1491: new revelations of the americas before columbus. knopf, 2012.
• park, chris c. tropical rainforests. taylor & francis, 2002.

but first — as my stomach reminded me, grumbling in hunger — breakfast. after an employee directed me to the restaurant, filled with a buffet of local foods, i perused the offerings and, oddly, skipped over my go-to favorite (carbs), because something else caught my eye: fruit.

neatly arranged on silver platters in the middle of the buffet were fruits ranging from bright red watermelon to blood orange papayas to yellow honeydew, and all met my gaze as i crept around the fruit table like a jaguar circling its prey.

i paused. “since when have i ever been this intrigued by fruit?” i thought.

keeping an open mind, i stacked my plate with as much fruit as it could hold and walked over to a table, careful not to drop anything from my overflowing plate on the floor.

“the pineapple,” i thought as i sat down. “i’ll try this first.”

my knife cut like butter through the slice of pineapple and i took a bite.  

i stopped chewing for a second. my eyes widened as the perfect, almost candylike sweetness of the pineapple struck my taste buds. it was the best damn pineapple i’d ever had. immediately i knew i could never go back to its american cousin; it doesn’t hold a candle to brazilian pineapple.

as i savored these fruits, i pondered: why is the fruit in brazil so good, and where does it come from? i knew i would have to do some research to learn more.

conveniently, i learned, my trip to brazil took me right to the source: the amazon rainforest. the rainforest, which is as big as the continental united states, harbors more than 10% of the world’s species and is home to 350 ethnic groups.

the rainforest also serves as a feeding ground for both humans and animals through its fruit production. boasting vast agricultural diversity, the amazon rainforest is the source of least 3,000 fruits, while only about 200 of those are consumed in the western world. it is home to fruits ranging from figs and lemons to bananas and guavas, the amazon provides the state of amazonas — and much of the world — with fruits created by mother nature herself.

josé luís camargo, a brazilian plant ecologist, researcher, and teacher who accompanied us on the trip to the amazon, said the fruits from the rainforest are among the most unique in the world. certain fruits like açaí — a highly nutritious purple berry — are special to the rainforest and are popular in not just brazil, but other parts of the world, including america.

“more of the local fruits are rich — very rich,” camargo said. “what happens for most of the people who live outside the amazon — most of the fruits you don’t find other places. only here.”

vegetables, however, are not as popular. camargo said there are some common vegetables used in meals, but joked that not a lot of brazilians eat “leaves” like americans do.

“vegetables are not a thing — it depends on the vegetables. some of them are very common, like tomate (tomato) … part of the regular food here doesn’t go with salad.”

being the third largest exporter of fruit, behind china and india, respectively, brazil also showcases the diversity of its fruits. from açaí, camu camu (a vitamin c-packed so-called “superfood”) to maracuyá (passionfruit) and aguaje (which has a high concentration of vitamin a, as well as vitamins e and c), brazil produces exotic fruits that make even the biggest foodies marvel at the uniqueness of the sweet delectables — and the nutritional impact they can provide both locals and consumers in other countries.

over the past several years, the fruit industry in brazil has risen 25%, dominating the country’s export economy, and provided 5.6 million jobs. about 35% of the world’s oranges come from brazil and more than half of the world’s orange juice is made there, too. in 2013, 14,598 tons of oranges were exported by brazil, serving countries like the united states, germany, uruguay, france and more.

beyond the economic and nutritional impact, camargo said the fruit is a big part of what makes the amazon special.

it’s what gives camargo a sense of home — no matter where he travels in brazil. for others in the city of manaus, it’s how they make a living — selling fruits in small shacks outside, under the blaze of the brazilian sun. for me? the fruit created a sense of comunidade.

“community” in portuguese, comunidade is what i felt as i turned every corner in brazil. i felt it from its people, its music, and, yes, its fruit.

in fact, it was the fruit that brought all of us together during our time at camp 41 — the home base for a series of scientific studies done deep in the amazon.

with no technology embedded in our hands — and little knowledge about each other — our gatherings at the seemingly out of place, red-checkered tablecloth-clad picnic tables in the middle of the rainforest, nibbling on the sweetest of fruits that came from the rainforest made me simply happy. it’s the comunidade that moves the planet forward.

while others marveled at the abundance of insect and animal life in the rainforest, i marveled at the fruit. the fruit was pure — it came from the heart of the amazon to the table. no factories involved. no planes. just forest to table.

after becoming the ene, more and more of her sister tributaries, voyaging from the vast, craggy backbone of south america, join and transform her time and again. she is reborn and renamed with the meeting of their waters, becoming tambo after meeting the perene, ucayali after the urubamba, and finally the amazon after the marañón.

she has matured by the time she reaches the brazilian border and is no longer prone to the capricious nature of her youth. she is less deterred by the twists and turns of life, choosing a more level-headed course through the verdant lowland forests.  more of her sisters, like the putumayo and the japurá, join her in her journey, but by now she is their elder and she will not change for their sake. she remains the amazon, like the fierce hellenic women warriors of ancient greece who are her namesake.

the barasana people live on her banks here, near the border with colombia. by traversing her waters, they are able to commune with their forefathers, who did the same for centuries before them. they believe their distant ancestors traveled from the east in canoes borne by giant anacondas. the snakes transformed into rivers. their tails became headwater streams in the distant mountains and their open mouths emptied into the ocean far to the east. the first people settled near these life-giving rivers.

near manaus, her sediment-laden waters, colored like coffee with cream, finally meet those of the rio negro, stained inky black with tannins from decaying organic matter. this long into her journey, the amazon is slow to accept her sister’s embrace. they differ too much in pace and temperament. the amazon is still in a hurry to reach her destination and marches eastward faster than her sister. she is deep and cold. the rio negro, however, moves slowly, relieved to conclude her shorter journey from the colombian highlands. she still roils with the hot passion of youth. they run next to one another without mixing for almost 4 miles before the amazon relents, taking on her sister’s burden and carrying onward.

the river gives gifts to all she passes on her long journey east. fishermen pull their lives from her waters, plumbing the river’s murky depths. they toss in another line and hope against hope that she will offer up another gift so they may live another day. will she deliver a deep-bodied tambaqui? or perhaps they will be fortunate and manage to hook a giant arapaima, which can grow up to six feet long? more likely, though, the frenzied piranha will devour the bait before anything else.

sheet metal roofs of stilted houses built on her banks glint in the afternoon sun. it is the beginning of the dry season, so they stand high above the water for now, but her channel will swell with the winter rains, raising the water levels right to their doorsteps. the rising tides will also deposit sediment across some 69,498 square miles of várzea forest — the seasonal floodplain. the river’s caress will revitalize their tired, old soils with an influx of valuable nutrients that will sustain a diverse array of plants and wildlife. children play on her beaches, laughing as they haul buckets of water to fill moats dug around sandcastles. boats ferry passengers and cargo up and down the river. she becomes a highway, home, workplace, and playground, like veins radiating throughout the brazilian lowlands.

the river is the lifeblood that sustains brazil, and in large part, the entire world. she gives us the gift of life, and how do we thank her? in trying to wrench precious metals and fossil fuels from the earth, we poison her waters. we take more fish than she offers, threatening several more species with extinction. we shackle her with dams, disrupting finely tuned hydrologic and nutrient cycles, and thwarting fish movement. we burn forests for farmland, choking her waters with eroded soil. the deforestation is also undermining her very existence, as half of her water is produced from evapotranspiration within the amazon basin itself.

despite our affronts, the river takes our faults with grace. she is a sin-eater for the world, like the freshwater dolphin, who walked onto land and impregnated young women, thus assuming the transgressions of colonial missionaries. her waters absolve us of our sins, but for how much longer? the river counsels us in the gentle lapping of waves and the whispers of warm breezes. she teaches us patience, to think of the long-term and consider it broadly, to give more than we take, to run fast when we can but never pass up a chance to rest, to accept that things will always change, to leave things better than we found them. can we hear these lessons? will we listen?

by now, she is old and weary. she flows slow and full and deep. tired of her load of silt, how she longs to disencumber herself where she meets the brackish waters of the sea. finally, after traveling 4,258 miles, she reaches the atlantic. every second, 273,361 cubic yards of water flow from her mouth. here, she takes her respite, laying down her silt over 501,932 square miles of the ocean floor. after her rest, she will be lifted into the heavens and travel across the river of stars. she will fall in the distant mountains and start her long journey once more: a mighty river reborn in a raindrop.