Category: Brazil

Saving Nature And REGUA Announce Significant Land Purchase As Part Of Multi-Year Conservation Vision For Brazil’s Atlantic Forest

December 16, 2021 erinwilligan

Blue-naped Chlorophonia (Chlorophonia cyanea)

Saving Nature And REGUA Announce Significant Land Purchase As Part Of Multi-Year Conservation Vision For Brazil’s Atlantic Forest

Saving Nature, a non-profit, science-led conservation organization dedicated to preventing extinctions and fighting climate change, announced today a significant land acquisition in Brazil. The investment is part of a multi-year partnership with Reserva Ecologica de Guapiaçu (REGUA), a Brazilian NGO working to restore critical habitat for biodiversity in the Atlantic Forest near Rio de Janeiro.

REGUA is a leading conservation organization focused on creating a sustainable future for a critical watershed that supplies fresh water to thirteen million people in Rio de Janeiro. The land purchased is embedded within Brazil’s third largest remaining Atlantic Forest fragment. It adds 294 acres of land that REGUA will reforest with native trees to create a 1,000-acre restoration zone within its 18,250-hectare protected nature reserve.

“Brazil’s Atlantic Forest is one of the most biologically diverse places on earth and is home to many thousands of species of animals and plants that exist nowhere else,” commented Dr. Stuart Pimm, Founder and President of Saving Nature. “We are delighted to partner with REGUA to implement a broad regional vision for the restoration of the Atlantic Forest and the salvation of its biodiversity.”

“REGUA has worked intensely to protect the remaining forests, partnering with international groups, including Saving Nature, to identify and create corridors for threatened and endangered species,” commented Nicholas Locke, President of REGUA. “Because of the ongoing threat of forest fragmentation and urban development, restoring and protecting the Atlantic Forest is the only way for its magnificent biodiversity to survive.”

The land purchase and strategic partnership are a unique opportunity to fortify and amplify REGUA’s conservation gains. The partners hope the project will serve as a model for achieving effective and efficient ecosystem protection and natural solutions to climate change through strategic action centred around biodiversity.

About Saving Nature, Inc.

Founded by senior conservation scientists, Saving Nature is committed to rescuing endangered species from extinction and communities from environmental destruction. Saving Nature partners with local conservation groups to create vital connections between isolated forests in biodiversity hotspots. The organisation creates strategic wildlife corridors to promote species dispersal, genetic diversity, and population rebound. By acquiring and reforesting degraded landscapes with native trees, the corridors sequester carbon and provide essential ecosystem services in an era of climate change. Saving Nature is a non-profit 501(c)(3) organisation, and all donations to Saving Nature are tax-deductible. To donate, click here.

About REGUA:

REGUA is a Brazilian environmental NGO created in 2001 with a mission of conserving the Atlantic Forest of the Guapiaçu river catchment. Since 2001, REGUA has created a protected area of more than 28,650 acres, planted 650,000 trees, restored lost swamps, and successfully reintroduced tapirs. REGUA manages a 18,250-acre protected nature reserve and works with local landowners to protect an additional 10,400 acres.

REGUA delivers complementary programs that include conservation, education, and research. Their long-term forest protection program includes land purchase and restoration, recreating wetlands, planting native trees, reintroducing lost species, hiring forest rangers, and designating Private Park (RPPN) status. REGUA’s education program supports environmental awareness through wide-reaching community and international studies. Ongoing scientific research includes partnerships with universities and scientists to advance insights into the region’s biodiversity and publish papers on conservation topics.

Categories: Brazil, News, Saving Nature Collection

The World’s Great Forests You’ve Never Heard Of

February 4, 2020 erinwilligan

February 5, 2020

Andrew Schiffer takes a global tour of the world’s greatest forests and makes the case for taking “remote ownership” of their protection. His call to action encourages people to learn more about the world around us and get involved in saving these special places.

The World's Great Forests You've Never Heard Of

by Andrew Schiffer

With limited funding and climate change upon us, conservationists must decide which forests to focus on and preserve. Although every forest possesses its own value, in order to prioritize funding, it is critical for our humanity to identify ‘biodiversity hotspots’ where the highest concentrations of endemic species are facing the largest loss of habitat.

I have narrowed down the candidates to five particularly vital hotspots: Brazil’s Atlantic Forest, Choc/Darien/Western Ecuador, Western Ghats/Sri Lanka, Indo-Burma, and the Tropical Andes.

These hot spots all contain a treasure trove of critical, different wildlife and plant species. In addition, many of them are brimming with life endemic only to the area. In learning more about these crucial hotspots, specifically about the statistical number of species that inhabits each area, we will learn some important facts that are compelling for each of us to take “remote ownership” and learn more.

These numbers are more shocking when “In contrast, the United States and Canada, with an expanse 8.8 times larger than the 25 hotspots combined, have only two endemic families of plants.” Although we are providing a brief overview of the importance of conserving each forest, there is still a lot to learn and we encourage you to explore the Saving Nature website to learn more and hopefully be inspired to carry out some research on your own!

South America

First off, Brazil’s Atlantic Forest makes up such a huge amount of the Earth’s surface that it contains two of the world’s largest cities: Rio de Janeiro and Sao Paulo. The forest spans over 3,000 km along the coast of Brazil and into Paraguay and Argentina. The forest is home to the biggest big cat in South America, the jaguar, as well as two indigenous tribes: The Tupi and the Guarani. In 1832, Charles Darwin explored the forest during his expedition on the Beagle. The forest is also home to over 2% of both the world’s endemic plants and vertebrates. It boasts the third largest number of endemic plants in the world, topping 8,000. However, in the face of growing threats, the forest has recently lost all, but 7.5% of its original primary vegetation and species, threatening the very existence of the native Jaguar.

The Tropical Andes, also located in South America, stands as an equally special woodland. Holding over 20,000 endemic plants as of yet discovered; the forest has long fascinated scientists. 1,666 bird species call it their home, a number that far exceeds any other hotspot in the world. Furthermore, the Tropical Andes contains at least 2% of the total endemic plants and vertebrates worldwide. With jaw-dropping statistics such as this, as well as 6.7% of all plant species extinct, we must give it our utmost attention.

Rounding out the South America candidates, the Choco/Darien/Western Ecuador forest presents its own case for being saved, struggling to maintain the mere 4.9% of its primary vegetation that remains. Due to its isolation, the forest is particularly attractive to endemic life. This stems from the forests on the western side of the Andes having evolved entirely differently from their counterparts on the eastern side.

The numbers are quite staggering: 830 birds (85 endemic), 235 mammals (60 endemic), 210 reptiles (63 endemic), and 350 amphibian species (210 endemic). Without question, the forests are one of the primary sources of endemic life. They also contain 0.8% of the global total of endemic plants and 1.5% of the world total endemic vertebrates.

They run along the entire Columbian coast and are made up of mountains, rain forests, and coastal areas. Species include jaguars, ocelots, giant anteaters, tapirs, and tamarins. The adorable cotton-top tamarin can only be found there and could risk extinction without our immediate intervention. Such profound data compel us to consider the Choco/Darien/Western Ecuador Forest’s significance.

Tropical Asia

As we travel to the 2 million km of tropical Asia and the lowlands of the Mekong Delta in Vietnam, we find the Indo-Burma forests. With 1,170 bird species, 329 mammal species, 202 amphibian species, and 484 reptile species, these forests contain many of the world’s great animals: leaf deer, kouprey, white-eared night-herons, Mekong giant catfish, and Jullien’s golden carps to name but a few.

However, with only 4.9% of its primary vegetation remaining, these species and more remain under threat. Indo-Burma is home to 2.3% of global endemic plants and 1.9% of global endemic vertebrates. 140 endemic bird species, 73 endemic mammal species, 201 endemic reptile species, 202 endemic amphibian species, not to mention 7.0 species per area of 100 km² of endemic plants and 0.5 species per area of endemic vertebrates…the sheer immensity of life in danger demands our immediate action.

Nearby stretches the last of the five highlighted forests: the Western Ghats/Sri Lanka forests. The Western Ghats region of India contains more than 30% of all plant, fish, herpetofauna, bird and mammal species found in the country, yet account for less than 6% of the national land area. Once again the numbers are staggering: 528 bird species (40 endemic), 140 mammal species (38 endemic), 259 reptile species (161 endemic), 146 amphibian species (116 endemic). Species include the mountain shrew, the slender loris, the grizzled squirrel, Layard’s striped squirrel, 144 aquatic birds, the black-spined toad, the skittering frog, the Indian bullfrog, and the Malabar torrent toad.

Furthermore, these forests are home to 0.7% of the world’s endemic plant species. In 200 square kilometers, you’ll find an average of 35 species of plants found nowhere else on earth. You’ll also find 1.3% of the world’s endemic vertebrates – that’s an average of almost 6 species found only here. With only 6.8% of its primary vegetation remaining, the Western Ghats/Sri Lanka forests call out for our help.

Caring for Our Great Forests

If we do not help save these one of a kind, crucial, magical places, the world will face mass extinction, causing millions of species to die out. This will cause an alarming imbalance in our ecosystem and cause unforeseen damage to our ecosystem and our daily life as humans. While we may feel comfortably safe here now, and these magical forests may feel far away, still there is a crucial role each of us can play in saving our magical, treasured species, and in saving nature. Feel proud and be a part of this vanishing opportunity—do not stand idly by! Thankfully, and excitedly, together we can all play a critical role in saving nature. YOU HAVE MADE A GREAT FIRST START IN LEARNING MORE.

Although they are far away for many of us, these forests contain some of the most important endemic species and vegetation in the world. We need to answer the call! It is time to come together as one and explore ways to support conservation efforts. It is daunting to take on the task of conserving the world. Common questions are likely to come up: How do we get started? What are the most important places? How could my effort even make a difference? Very little information is provided to us directly about actual concrete ways to make real, effective change. It can be difficult to know how to make a real difference and ensure that your hard work will be effective. Well, not only can you make a difference, but we can help you get started today.

There are many great organizations out there. One that is particularly relevant is Saving Nature because, coincidentally, it is focused on saving the very same forests we just talked about. Go for a life-saving adventure and explore their projects. Together, we can save our planet, one forest at a time. Together, we can help zero in on helping save the most important hotspots in the world and make real, lasting beautiful change. Do not stand idly by—you can make yourself and our planet earth proud! Along with your other great qualities, you are now a proud nature-saver! If we do not act now, there will not be enough time to save these magical, critical species and our planet. Please kindly act now and help Saving Nature. Grateful for you, nature-saver!

help save the world's great forests

Saving Nature works in biodiversity hotspots around the world to prevent extinctions and fight climate change. Guided by science, using annual surveys with drones and camera traps, we show donors where the forests and species are returning.

Categories: Brazil, Colombia, Ecuador, Peru, Saving Nature Collection, Science Corner, Sumatra

Yellow Fever Threatens Golden Lion Tamarins

September 10, 2019 erinwilligan

Golden lion tamarin (Leontopithecus rosalia), Atlantic Forest of Brazil

September 10, 2019: Troubling news for golden lion tamarins. Yellow fever threatens one of the world’s most renowned conservation successes.

YELLOW FEVER OUTBREAK THREATENS ENDANGERED GOLDEN LION TAMARINS

The wild population of golden lion tamarins suffered a dramatic decline in the wake of the worst yellow fever outbreak in Brazil in 80 years. According a study published today in the journal Nature.com, the wild tamarin population has declined by 32 percent since 2014. This reduction marks the first drastic loss the species has faced in nearly 40 years.

Prior to the yellow fever epizootic, golden lion tamarin numbers had been steadily increasing—from a few hundred in the 1970s to 3,700 in recent years. The team at Saving Nature joined the effort to save the golden lion tamarin in 2012, helping connect them to larger forest expanses capable of supporting viable populations.

A recent population census by the Associação Mico-Leão-Dourado (AMLD; golden lion tamarin association), triggered by the spread of yellow fever throughout the region, found only 2,500 survivors. A reduction in population size of this magnitude will make it difficult for golden lion tamarins to find unrelated mates, resulting in inbreeding and local extinctions of the species.

Yellow fever was first detected near their geographic range in early 2017, and reports of sick or dead tamarins surfaced in 2018. The AMLD is currently hard at work to reduce the devastating impact of yellow fever on golden lion tamarins. Their multifaceted approach includes an ongoing population census, yellow fever risk and acquired immunity assessments, strategic translocations, and a vaccination program.

Click here to read the full publication.

Categories: Brazil, Saving Nature Collection

Protecting One-Fifth of the World to Save Two-Thirds of the Species

September 5, 2013 erinwilligan

September 5, 2013

You’ve heard the adage, “If it sounds too good to be true, it probably is.” But new research by Saving Nature scientists offers an amazing conservation ‘deal’. Backed up by top-flight science and data, it’s too good to pass up. So what is the deal? The new paper, published today in Science, was co-authored by Saving Nature founder Stuart Pimm and Vice President Clinton Jenkins, and by Lucas Joppa of Microsoft Research, who completed his Ph.D. with Pimm.

PROTECTING A FIFTH OF THE WORLD'S LAND TO SAVE TWO-THIRDS OF ALL PLANT SPECIES

The key finding of the paper is that protecting a fifth of the world’s land area will save two-thirds of the world’s endemic plant species. Using the Kew Gardens plant database, the authors looked at the geographical distributions of 110,000 plant species. From this analysis, the researchers identified the smallest set of regions that contain the largest number of plant species.

They discovered that nearly two-thirds of the world’s plants occur in just 17 percent of the world’s land. The bad news is that less than a sixth of that 17 percent is currently protected. “Our study identifies regions of importance. The logical – and very challenging – next step will be to make tactical local decisions within those regions to secure the most critical land for conservation.” Pimm said.

Incorporating years of data, Jenkins created a detailed, color-coded map of Earth. The map illustrates where endemic plants are concentrated. This information helps conservation ecologists, policy makers, and economists to prioritize locations for conservation eorts. Because of ecological food webs, protecting endemic plants not only helps save rare plant species—it helps save dependent species, such as specialist herbivores, epiphytes and so on. “We also mapped small-ranged birds, mammals and amphibians, and found that they are broadly in the same places we show to be priorities for plants,” said Jenkins. “So preserving these lands for plants will benefit many animals, too,” he said.

According to Pimm, to achieve biodiversity conservation goals, the world needs to protect more land than we currently do and much more in key places such as Madagascar, Colombia, and coastal Brazil. These are all places where Saving Nature works.

Saving Nature relies on cutting-edge science to make its conservation decisions. With the limited amount of conservation funding available, we must use the best science to maximize the number of threatened species of wildlife and plants we can save. The report’s findings truly oer conservationists a great deal.

SCIENTIFIC NOTE: The work in Science focused on endemic species of plants. Endemic species exist only in specific places, such as a particular mountain range or forest. Endemic species are typically very rare, because of their limited geographical distribution. Endemic plants are also crucial to ecosystems that support other endangered species and, more broadly, biodiversity. Because they exist only in one place, endemic plants are often hosts for other endemic species that depend on them—insects, animals, and even other plants such as epiphytes.

Categories: Brazil, Colombia, Ecuador, India, Research, Saving Nature Collection, Science, Science Corner, Sumatra

The Search for the Grey-winged cotinga

May 30, 2011 Stuart Pimm

Clinton Jenkins produced this extraordinary map. It shows the State of Rio de Janeiro — the city itself is to the left of the large bay at the western end of the image. Satellite images have been draped over a 3-D rendering of the mountains. Finally, Clinton colour-coded the areas with forest high enough to be possible habitat for the grey-winged cotinga. It was known from only two sites — those labelled. Surely, we could find it in some of the other possibilities show in light blue!

May 30, 2011

by Stuart Pimm

Not all National Geographic expeditions go smoothly.

All adventures end at precisely the same point. Thirty seconds into the hot shower, a stream of dirty water runs down the drain. It takes with it the mud and dried blood, changing skin color from blotchy grey to pink, uncovers the until-now forgotten scrapes and cuts, and exterminates the thriving ecosystem of bacteria and fungi, each with its own distinct and pungent smell, to which my skin had been playing host.

This is exactly when one has the first dangerous notion that the last days or weeks might have been fun.

This expedition to remote and unexplored Brazilian mountaintops to lookfor one of the world’s rarest birds was born in my comfortable, air-conditioned laboratory. Professor Maria Alice dos Santos Alves of the State University of Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, and I are sitting in front of a large computer monitor. On screen is a satellite image of the State of Rio de Janeiro. Overlaying other information, the computer tells us is that one of the biologically richest areas of the planet has been barely explored.

Someone has to go — not “because it’s there” — but precisely because in short order it may not be. This is one of the most damaged and threatened ecosystems on Earth. Within days, Maria Alice prepares her grant proposal to the National Geographic Society’s Committee on Research and Exploration.

Within the year, she, her graduate student, Alline Storni, and I are stuck in remote cloud forest, abandoned by our helicopter pilot. We have noodles, tea, and trail bars for another two days and no idea what is the best path, if any, to take us out. Any path has to be one we cut ourselves.

The rainforests along the Atlantic coast of Brazil team with species found nowhere else on Earth. Some 8000 species of flowering plant, 200 species of birds and no one knows how many insects and fungi, are unique to these forests. Less than 6% of the forests remain.

This is the front line of conservation.

Maria Alice and her colleagues must provide Brazilian State and Federal agencies with the best possible advice to prevent extinctions. She is spending a sabbatical at Duke University, working with Clinton Jenkins, one of my research group.

Using satellite images, data on elevation, and a broad knowledge of where bird species occur, they’ll produce detailed predictions of where are the richest and most vulnerable parts of the Atlantic Forest.

The computer predictions find that generally different species of birds have been collected where the computer thinks they should be and not where they shouldn’t. Maria Alice and Clinton point to the glaring exception. The grey-winged cotinga, discovered in 1980 by Michael Brooke, has been found on only two mountaintops. Along a hundred mile ridge of mountains inland of Rio de Janeiro, others areas of high elevation forest should also be home to this species.

There are no records — of this or any other species. Is the grey-winged cotinga more widespread — and so perhaps less threatened – than we thought? What other species occur here? What is happening to these forests? This is biological terra incognito — as exciting to us as those large blanks on the maps were to geographical explorers of the 19th century.

August 2003 and I’m in Rio for a brief visit. Unexpectedly, the State government provides a helicopter for a day. Its two pilots quiz Maria Alice about her work, then become enthusiastic supporters. They give their day to fly us along the mountain chain from Serra do Tinguá in the west to Desengano in the east.

It’s brilliantly sunny, with puffy white clouds for dramatic effect. We have a great day, with unrivalled views of the forests even if Alline does look a little green. Helicopter rides are particularly unnerving when the land falls away several thousand feet in a second as the helicopter crosses a ridgeline.

Three eastern mountaintops are visible from the city of Rio itself; Tinguá is the closest and so inaccessible that our pilots cannot find a place to land. They can at Araras, the next site, and east of Três Picos — three giant, sheer-sided pillars of granite rising several thousand feet from the forest below.

We work eastwards, preparing for the exploration that will begin in December — mid-summer in the southern hemisphere. We land, check the safety of each landing place, and record it to the nearest yard on our GPS. Unbroken forest stretches for miles, but we also see the encroachment of farms that reduce the forest to tiny fragments, ones we know will be too small to support many of the original, unique and likely unknown species.

Into the mountains…

Friday, December 5th, 2003. We lunch improbably in a luxurious home on the Fazenda Itatiba high in a valley a few miles from our intended camp. “It won’t be like this when we get to camp!” we joke with the fazenda’s administrator, Argélio.

The helicopter cannot carry everything we need in one trip, but will ferry the team and equipment in short trips between the fazenda and the camp. We’ve hired a private company this time. I just wish its pilot wasn’t wearing shiny black shoes, pressed black trousers and a white, starched shirt with epaulettes that vaguely suggest a naval uniform.

I fly on helicopter surveys across the world each year. Most pilots wear fatigues or tattered shorts, repudiate fashion, and have flight helmets that sport small insignia that hint of a previous life (“Da Nang”, for example) that one never brings up in conversation.

There’s a break in the clouds and I’m off. Knowing the risks, I ensure that my tent, pack, water bottle, and the remains of last night’s pizza are with me.

As we cross into the next valley, the clouds break. Over the landing spot, it’s bright sunshine. The pilot doesn’t land and circles around. I jab my finger energetically at the flat area of grass and smooth rocks on which we had landed in August.

As we land, I know from experience that he should keep the engine running, holding the helicopter under power in case it slips. He reduces power and I prepare to get out. He signals me to stay inside it. OK, I understand that rule: he wants to shut down completely.

Hell no, he then gets out. If wind tips the helicopter, the still rotating blades will hit the ground and the resulting shrapnel will turn me into hamburger. I get out, grab my gear and move well away from the helicopter. I notice I’ve a companion, a worker from the fazenda. In a minute, the pilot is off.

Fifteen minutes later, he’s back in our valley, but isn’t coming this way. He lands a mile or more below us in a depression. We wave. We strip off our shirts and wave them. Through the binoculars, I watch Alline and Maria Alice unload gear and the helicopter leaves. We will never see it again.

A silence descends. I slap on the sunscreen; I had the good sense to pack. My companion calls Maria Alice on our radio. “I told at the pilot it wasn’t the right place, but he said your site was not safe,” she tells me.”

So, why didn’t he then come to fetch us?” I ask. “I screamed at him that he had to. He ignored me and left.”

“Well,” I reply, “you have too much stuff to walk up to us, we’ll have to come to you.”

“Your companion is called Gilmar” Maria Alice tells me. He wasn’t expecting to stay and has nothing but the clothes he’s wearing. And he didn’t bring any food.

Between us, we can just manage to pick everything up. It takes us three hours to reach Maria Alice and Alline. By that time, the sun has turned to rain and we’re sodden. The route is partly a bog filled with tussock grass six feet tall. A few yards takes us five minutes — and another five to get our breath back. We head for a low forest, only to find it’s a tangled thicket of bushes and bamboo.

The only practical solution is to park the gear and cut a trail with the machete, then come back for the gear, and repeat the process. We’ll have to make “the hole” our camp and explore from there. It would take three trips to get to our planned destination with all our gear — at best, a long and exhausting day.

Maria Alice has already set up our mist nets. The nets catch small birds as they fly between the trees. My job is to listen for the grey-winged cotinga, to play a tape of its song to entice it to respond, and to record songs of birds we do not recognize.

We set up tents in the rain, glad we have a third for Gilmar. The final insult is the gas stove doesn’t work. As one attaches the burner, it’s supposed to puncture the canister through a rubber seal. It doesn’t. The prospect of cold food for two days sinks in. Out comes a pocketknife, we puncture the canister, and screw on the burner quickly before all the gas escapes.

Hot noodles taste so good in the field.

Saturday, December 6th starts cold and misty, then variously fogs, drizzles, sheets, spots, torrents, and all the other forms of rain for which we Britons have so many names. We band birds and listen for songs. Gilmar cuts a trail up the hillside to our north — the direction of “home,” the fazenda. “Just in case something goes wrong,” we tell ourselves.

What I hear on the trail is not encouraging. Scientists know almost nothing about the grey-winged cotinga. It’s supposed to live just below the tree line — just where we are. It’s the other fact worries me.

The bird is supposed to occupy forest at a higher elevation than its closest relative, the black and gold cotinga. The latter’s song is one of the extraordinary sounds of the Brazilian mountains — a pure whistle several seconds long, that rises mid—point to half a note higher. The altimeter says we should be too high for it. It’s so common here that the overlapping whistles create a continuous dissonance.

I return, soaked. As evening draws in, we’re all too cold to eat outside, so we eat inside my tent. Dinner is a protracted affair, hot noodles, soup, trail bars, nuts, chocolate, dry fruit, hot chocolate to drink. We’re all in our sleeping bags to keep warm, our wet clothes piled up around us.

Tomorrow night we’ll be warm again, back at fazenda in the next valley, where the owner’s generosity has extended to a night at his house.

Sunday, December 7th. I have never learned to love the sensation of getting out of a toasty, dry sleeping bag, and pulling on cold, damp rain gear, soaked socks and boots. It’s raining; I will be wetter yet within minutes. Only hard work will generate the body heat to warm the cold clothes.

By 1pm, we’re hearing our helicopter every 15 minutes, or at least think we are. None appears.

We have no radio and cell phone connections in the “hole”. Gilmar takes a radio and cell phone and heads up his rough trail. After an hour, from his perch above the forest, he can reach us by radio and the outside world by cell phone.

The pilot is still at home.

That means at least an hour to get to the helicopter in the Rio de Janeiro traffic, longer still to reach us. “I was expecting you to call me,” he tells us.

Maria Alice is furious, for we all know how clear her instructions had been and the impossibility of us calling him from where he left us.

Come in under the clouds and head up the valley from the southwest,” I ask Maria Alice to tell Gilmar to tell the pilot. The valley floor is still clear and the clouds above it are showing patches of blue sky. “If you can’t make it today, come first thing tomorrow.”

The pilot has abandoned us in a terrible place, one from which we cannot call the outside.

There’s no reason why he shouldn’t have been here. If he doesn’t arrive in the morning, it will be a disaster. Even if we can walk out, we’ll have to abandon all our gear and will be lucky to carry out our cameras and sound recording equipment. At some later date, we’ll need to come back by helicopter to recover it. This could delay the expedition for days, even weeks.

What do I tell National Geographic?

Maria Alice worries. It could be a lot worse: we have food.

Monday, December 8th morning. We pack for the hike out and by 9am are on our way. My tent is left up, with our gear packed as neatly as we can inside it. When we reclaim all that we must now leave, we want to be able to load it quickly. The rain has eased a bit.

The way out is simple and daunting. We know where we are and where we want to be — to the nearest yard from our GPS. It’s not far — a few miles — it’s just that there is a very large mountain in the way. We must go around it. Is to the left or the right better? Gilmar has told us the bad news: the forest has bamboo thickets, but above the tree line is worse. There are open areas, but they are bare granite on slopes too steep to climb.

We also know that the fazenda’s elevation is 1500 feet below our camp. Climbing up the mountain between us will be hard, but also mean that we’ll have to climb down those 1500 feet — plus every extra foot we climb up along the way.

Accidents are more likely going down than going up.

By lunchtime, we’re back in camp, wet, muddy from boots to hat, and smelling of rotten vegetation. After a thousand foot climb, we get radio and phone reception. We call the pilot, who incredibly thinks that we were going to call him to let him know when to come. He flew from Rio the previous afternoon, but gone to a town ten miles away and found it to be in the clouds.

That really angers us. We’ll get a bill for a thousand dollars for a trip that didn’t come close to us at a time when the weather was good in our valley.

We also reach Argélio at the fazenda by radio — and that’s the important news. He’s coming to find us and he’s not coming the short way. He’s coming up a different valley, though quite how and where is beyond me. Something about a tractor, I’m told.

Afternoon. Gilmar and I head up the opposite side of the valley from our trail. On the steep, but just accessible, granite slopes, we see a small cleft. It opens into a spectacular valley running southwards, that joins another, even larger valley coming in from the west. At its far end is the massive granite pillar of one of the Três Picos. Beyond this valley to the south, thick, white clouds cover the lowlands east of Rio de Janeiro.

Everything we can see is forest — surely one of the largest tracts of forest left in these mountains. This is a glorious, wonderful place to be stuck!

At the valley’s end — it looks miles away and thousands of feet below us — is a bright green spot. It’s a pasture and we see three men, tiny specks even through binoculars. Gilmar is talking to them on the radio. He takes off his shirt, puts it on a stick and waves it. I take off my blue rain jacked and do likewise. How on Earth they are going see us in the middle of this mountain beats me.

We wave vigorously and, improbably, they wave back.

Perched on the granite bluff, I spend the afternoon looking across it, listening. Abundant black and golds call. We’re above an exposed ridge, where the wind stunts the trees; this is supposed to be the grey-winged’s prime habitat. If it were here, I would hear it. Clouds fall into the valley, then are swept up into the sky, and from time to time brilliant sunshine turns misty grey greens into bright patches of green, with yellow and purple flowering trees adding highlights. By 5pm, our rescuers are in shouting distance in the valley below. At 730pm, just as it gets dark, six of them enter out camp.

Tuesday, December 9th. It blew hard last night, but there was little chance I would lose my tent — it had 7 men sleeping in it. Still, the wind snapped one of my tent’s poles and it’s oddly misshapen at first light.

There’s a trail bar and a cup of tea for everyone, one lump of sugar in each cup, except mine.

That exhausts all our food, but we’re happy. To run out of food before leaving, would have been inexcusably bad form. To leave our equipment behind would have been a disaster too: we just have enough helpers to carry it out.

It’s downhill all the way, sometimes steep, sometimes through dense bamboo thickets, but mostly through forest with a closed canopy that shades the forest floor and keeps it free of undergrowth.

Every step, I’m watch my feet, careful in where I place them, and use every handhold the trees and lianas afford. This is not the place to sprain an ankle.

An hour down, I see a bright orange frog on the ground.

It’s about the size of a dime and, as I admire it, others see another, then more. There’s a colony of about a dozen of them within a few yards. Bright and conspicuous, they are advertising that it’s not a good idea to touch them. When our companions do, we warn them not to touch their eyes or lips with their fingers.

“What are they?” we ask. “Does anyone know?” While we don’t, Maria Alice’s colleague at the university is a frog specialist, and we’ll ask him. We’ve done this before elsewhere and the answer has sometimes been that no one has seen the species before.

We descend past other frog colonies, down into the valley, below where we black and gold cotingas whistle. Soon, we’re hearing bellbirds — crow—sized, white cotingas that sound like cracked bells. There are more of them than any place I’ve ever been. Their hearing so many rivals works them up into a calling frenzy.

The canopy is now far above our heads, the going more open, flatter. We come to a real trail. For the first time in days, we can stride along, rather than tentatively place each foot down. I feel warm. My clothes are drying. Three hours after we started, we’re in the open pasture we saw yesterday, looking back to where we’ve come, marveling that anyone could see us from this distance.

We hike along another trail, find another clearing, hike more, and then in the next clearing there’s a tractor. How many people can you fit on a tractor? Ten — and their equipment — is the impossible answer.

On the back of a tractor, down a narrow trail a 4×4 would not navigate, past, then around the granite domes of Três Picos, not fast, not elegant, but down and down, warmer and drier with each slow, bumpy mile until we make it out. We walk stiffly the last few yards to the hot showers.

On the beach at Ipanema.

By 7pm, we’re on the beach at Ipanema, having a beer with Michael Brooke and discussing our plans. We should be in Arraras by now, but Maria Alice will need a day to regroup, check the equipment, buy food, and most important of all, find another helicopter pilot.

I will now miss Araras, for I must leave on Friday night. My body demands I spend tomorrow soaking in a hot bath and drying my gear. Michael arrived two days ago and hasn’t come this far to watch the beach. We set our alarms for 5am.

Wednesday, December 10th. By 830am, Michael and I are slogging up a trail in Serra dos Órgãos National Park heading for where he found the grey-winged cotinga 20 years ago. It’s my only hope to see the bird now and, importantly, to see how the forest here differs from that near Três Picos. Every muscle hurts as we climb hour after hour, stopping only for me to catch my breath.

We climb up through where the black and gold cotingas are whistling, then leave them below us. We listen, straining to hear the grey-winged’s call. No such luck.

Thursday, December 11th. There’s so much excitement in Maria Alice’s apartment as we pack the food, organize and check the equipment. In an instant, they’re off, and I’m alone. I wash my gear, write my notes, check my e-mail, enjoy a beer on the beach, listen to the BBC World Service after dinner.

I wasn’t expecting a phone call. From high on the ridge at Araras, exactly where they should be, exactly where I should be, Maria Alice has excellent reception. “Wish you were!” Next morning, the phone rings again.

We have grey-winged cotingas calling all around us” she tells me. You really should be there!”

“Yes,” I think, “I really should be.”

Postscript

Maria Alice completed the work for her National Geographic Grant. It would have been impossible if she had lost all the equipment. In time, she published her work as two scientific papers:

Alves, M. A. S., S. L. Pimm, A. Storni, M. A. Raposo, M. de L. Brooke, G. Harris, A. Foster, and C. N. Jenkins. 2008. Mapping and exploring the distribution of a threatened bird, Grey-winged Cotinga. Oryx. 42, 562-566

Alves, M.A. S., C.N. Jenkins, S.L. Pimm, A. Storni, M.A. Raposo, M. de L. Brooke, G. Harris and A. Foster. 2009. Birds, Montane forest, State of Rio de Janeiro, Southeastern Brazil. Check List 5: 289-200.

On the flight in August, we had seen one possible site where we could drive up a road to see the bird. Andy Foster explored that area and found it there.

Two years after I wrote this story, I went to that site, found the bird and filmed and photographed it for the first time.

Categories: Birds, Brazil, Saving Nature Collection

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