Pucate and Yanayacu Rivers, Pacaya-Samiria National Reserve
Some of us hit the ground running, as the saying goes. By 6:00a.m. we were boarding the ready skiffs, coffee mugs in hand, binoculars around our necks. We set off for our first exploration of the Pacaya-Samiria National Reserve by moving up the Pucate River; slowly, slowly we traveled because there was so much to see. Ground mist lingered inches above the water, the light grew stronger, the clouds reflected in the still waters. Brown, muddy water changed to black as the skiffs took us further away from the mighty silt-laden Marañon.
We are on the north side of the Reserve, having traveled up from the port town of Nauta last night, a trip of around five hours on the Delfin II. Now, out early for a bit of birding before breakfast, we start racking up the species: black-capped donacobious, great egret, black-collared hawk, wattled jacana, bluish-fronted jacamar, hooded black-bird, oriole black-bird, shiny cowbird, tropical kingbird, lesser kiskadee, short-tailed parrots, white-winged parakeets, barn swallow, yellow-billed tern, striated heron, Cocoi heron.
This is the real McCoy, the real deal. We are in the Amazon rainforest, and the potential sightings and experiences are out there, but they don't necessarily come freely or easily. The more outings, the more chances of spotting interesting and novel species and behaviors. The more prepared, with eyes bright and searching, binoculars at the ready, the likelier of seeing the subtle and hidden jewels of the forest: the Urania day-flying moth, the water hyacinth blooming, the parrots in the Cecropia, same size and shape as the leaves. I think for me, part of the excitement of spending time here is not just the finding of these exotic flora and fauna, but the challenge of the hunt to find them in the first place. Such satisfaction that all in the skiff finally can pinpoint the objective and gasp with delight at the iridescent colors or intricate design of whatever it is that has been discovered along the bank.
After breakfast we set out with the intention of getting far up the Yanayacu River, as far as a small channel known as “Japon.” These small, narrow entrances are called “caños” in Spanish, and when the water levels rises sufficiently, the skiffs can go far up, with thick vegetation on both sides, and hidden treasures calling out to us. Capped herons with their blue faces, a chestnut woodpecker with its cinnamon coloration, black saki monkeys and squirrel monkeys were both around – but too shy and retiring for many of us to get even a glimpse of them, lettered Araçaris are miniature toucans and flew across the water, social flycatchers flittered around their woven nests surrounding wasp nests for protection; yellow-rumped caciques, the forest jesters, gave raucous calls, russet-backed oropendulas adorned their pendulous nests from the highest trees.
Before lunch we fit in not only our abandon-ship drill, but had a map orientation session up on the open top deck, the trees and river changing shades with each cloud and quirk of sunlight. For a while it looked like we might get a healthy rainstorm, but no, disappointingly, it passed us by. We still have the week to catch a good one. After all, what good would it do to visit the rainforest and not experience a good rain?
The afternoon was divided into those who wanted to walk in the forest, and those who prefered to enjoy it from the comfort of the skiff, up the Pucate River this time. Both groups met with success – one shore leaf-cutter ants like never before, nests and all; Paraponera spp., those primitive, solitary, giant bullet ants (but erupting out of a nest – rarely seen); calls from Cuvier's toucan overhead; fig trees with medicinal value, and the enormous kapok tree. Sloths were found by those who traveled up the river, and we all rejoined as a group in the community of “Viente de Enero” (Twentieth of January). Precisely as its name dictates, it was founded on the 20th of January and celebrations were already in progress: soccer competitions with neighboring communities, the children were dressed and ready to give a dance performance (which we stumbled upon and got front-row seats for). We also decided to leave the educational material our folks had so kindly brought down from the states. Notebooks, pens, pencils, markers and more, were received with happy faces by the dozens of kids (and some not-so-kids).
By sunset we were more than ready to head home for a shower and cocktail. The Delfin II has let loose our lines and we are on our way up-river, up the Maranon River, looking to reach the junction of the Rio Tigre sometime past mid-night. Tomorrow another adventure awaits.
