Nahuapa River and Nauta Caño
Taking advantage of the early morning hours right after sunrise, we all departed the Delfin II in the skiffs at 6:30 am. We had traveled up the Marañon and Tigre rivers, to tie up overnight at the junction with the smaller Nahuapa River. This is a narrow river that leads up a long way (ending up in Ecuador if we had the time), surrounded by primarily “terra firme” - Amazonian land that is never flooded, even at the height of the high-water season. For this very reason, some species are more likely to be found here than in other areas, such as the masked crimson tanager and plum-throated cotinga. The tanager we got excellent views of, but the cotinga was only a brief flash of iridescent blue that flew off in the treetops. Parrots were abundant, and one tree was fruiting, filled with canary-winged (or “white-winged” parakeets, chestnut-eared Araçaris, lettered Araçaris and the famous Cuvier's toucan, the largest of the Amazon's toucans. Wood-peckers were also around, as were the kiskadee flycatchers. One Amazon kingfisher gave us a show of beating his fish senseless for several minutes on a tree branch before finally swallowing it.
And speaking of fish, we stopped for a bit of fishing ourselves. The drivers and naturalists found us nice shady areas near the bank. Fishing poles and lines were prepared, hooks baited, and the concentration was palpable. If left near the surface, small silvery fish called locally “sardines” (but not related to the marine variety), could take care of the raw meat in seconds. Down deeper into the murky waters, many felt tugs and pulls, but few actually caught anything. On our skiff, Paul, who had just celebrated his birthday with a cake last night, caught fish after fish – but none were piranha until the last! The first few were catfish, of which the Amazon basin and hundreds and hundreds of species, some edible, some not, some sought for the aquarium industry. Finally a piranha took his bait and we got a good look at the impressive set of dentures. Interestingly enough, the only wound incurred during the fishing was not due to a piranha bite, but from a catfish barb during removal from the hook. Our doctor took care of it immediately – since it was he who the barb!
Before returning to the ship for breakfast, some of us chose a quick stop at the riverbank home of an older couple of “ribereños” – riverside people – who very generously allowed us to poke our noses around their modest home and gardens. The 65-year-old woman-of-the-house then took us over to her cultivated plot of manioc shrubs, and using the strength of two of our men, had them haul out of the dirt the tuber-thick roots of one plant so everyone could exactly how manioc (cassava/yuca/ source of tapioca) grows and is harvested. This carbohydrate-rich tuber is the lowland substitute for the potatoes used in the highlands. After rice, it is the second most economically important crop in the world. Originally from the Amazon, manioc is now grown in all the tropical regions of the world as a staple crop.
As soon as everyone was back on board, we had our leisurely breakfast, then a post-breakfast nap followed by a presentation on the top deck on the Amazon river basins and soils, all while cruising down the Marañón – yes, we were going with the flow now, heading east towards the confluence with the Ucayali (but that's tomorrow).
Ah, the afternoon! Fabulous trip down a very, very narrow stream called “Nauta Caño.” “Caño” means channel, canal, stream, creek, crick, etc. It filled everyone's image of the deep Amazon rain forest: trees tight in, overhanging vines, lush floating vegetation – so much so that at times we barely got through. Wildlife was fantastic for those searching with patience: pygmy kingfisher, squirrel monkeys, scarlet macaws, Tui parrotlets, Cuvier's toucans, plum-throated cotinga (finally!) and plenty of our favorites such as the black-collared hawk and the “tuki-tukis,” otherwise known as wattled jacanas. These are long-toed birds the size of a thrush which walk on the floating mats of water lettuce and water hyacinths; their unbelievably long toes spread out their weight to almost nothing. In a scandalous display of irritation at our approach, they spread their pale wings in dramatic contrast to their dark bodies, and yell”tuki-tuki-tuki-tuki” as they take flight.
Sloths were a big part of everyone's afternoon. The skiff I traveled in saw a young female sloth attempting a trans-tree crossing. Unfortunately for her, but not for us, she spent about 20 minutes trying to stretch her powerful, long arms around a too-thick tree trunk, a little too far away. When she finally decided it wasn't possible (after an almost-fall which had us all sucking in breath), she reversed directions to try another limb, and we continued on our journey. Our return on board was celebrated by a sunset that reflected in the mirror-calm of the small river known as Nauta Caño. It looked like water lettuce was floating among pink clouds.
