Protecting the Andes and the Amazon

By Patricia Boccard

During our trip, we traveled to both the rainforest in Madre de Dios and the mountains in Cusco, seeing firsthand the environmental and socio-political links between the Andes and the Amazon Basin. In both locations, the forest and the mountains seemed immense and impenetrable. Yet, from above, during our plane ride, it was possible to see more clearly the deforestation that is harming the ecosystem.

There is a critical relationship between the Andes and the Amazon. Millions of years ago, the rise of the Andes Mountains through shifts in tectonic plates significantly changed the landscape of what is now known as South America [1]. Through the Amazon River, and its various tributaries and streams, the glaciers on the slopes of the Andes connect to the Amazon rainforest, contributing to extraordinary biodiversity in the region [1]. The Amazon harbors about 10% of the world’s known species, 20% of the world’s liquid freshwater, and approximately half of the planet’s remaining tropical forests [2]. The Amazon’s biodiversity plays a critical role in the global carbon cycle by serving as a natural carbon sink. It also drives the hemispheric hydrological systems, which determine the rainfall and weather in the region [3].

The connection between the Andes and Amazon Basin carries social and economic impacts as well. Approximately 33 million people live in the Amazon watershed [4]. There are also 2,344 indigenous territories, comprising about 45 percent of the basin [4]. Due to the various push and pull factors predominantly tied to livelihoods, there has also been increased human migration between the Andes and Amazon. Moreover, the Amazon has many natural resources, such as oil and minerals (e.g., gold), which are extracted legally and illegally. These extractive activities are further bolstered by the increased development of transportation infrastructure in the region, such as the Interoceanic Highway.

More than half of Peru is covered in trees, making the country one of the 10 most biodiverse states in the world [5]. Yet the viability of Peru’s important Andes-Amazon connected habitat is under threat. Most notably, deforestation, driven by factors such as a growth in infrastructure and extractive industries, damages the biome and undermines its role in securing the planet’s well-being. In Peru, about 1,100 square miles of forests are cut down annually, accounting for almost half of the country’s greenhouse gas emissions [5]. Agriculture, commercial mining and related transportation construction, and illegal logging are the largest contributions to deforestation and forest degradation [5]. For this reason, governments, non-governmental organizations, and related institutions aim to strengthen biodiversity conservation, prevent deforestation, and improve community livelihoods.

What, exactly, do these organizations do to protect the environment? Through this course, we encountered individuals working on approaches that protect the environment and cultivate practices of sustainability. Both approaches involve indigenous communities who have land rights to protected areas in Peru.

One protective approach is ecotourism. During our trip, we stayed at Posadas Amazonas, an eco-tourism lodge in the Amazon Rainforest not far outside Puerto Maldonado. In the 1970s, the Ese’Eja indigenous community of Infierno received a concession of land from the government. In considering ways to improve their livelihoods and protect the environment, the Ese’Eja community of Infierno encountered an opportunity to establish a lodge in collaboration with a private company, Rainforest Expeditions, and two non-governmental organizations. Through a contract, Rainforest Expeditions and the community of Infierno work together to run the lodge, splitting the profits. Following a renegotiated contract in 2016, now 25% of the profits go to Rainforest Expeditions and 75% goes to the Ese’Eja Community of Infierno. Through this model of eco-tourism, the community is able to preserve the surrounding rainforest while also earning an income which is then used to support the community. The lodge’s 20-plus years of its existence speak to its significant sustainability and impact.

Another environmental protection approach includes communal conservation agreements. In Cusco, we met with Constantino (Tino) Aucca Chutas, the President of Association of Andean Ecosystems (ECOAN) and Co-Founder of Accion Andina, who leads forest restoration projects across five countries in South America. The Acciona Andina initiative works with indigenous communities in order to develop agreements whereby the communities restore the forests in their territories. The initiative identifies organized indigenous communities that have legally verified territory, and through an agreement, works with the community to plant native trees (i.e., Polylepis trees). These efforts utilize native species and are careful to not plant invasive species that harm the ecosystem. Communities are paid for their restoration efforts. The community can then use the funds for communal purposes, such supporting education and health care. In the last five years, over 10 million trees have been planted.

These protective efforts to conserve and preserve the environment are not devoid of challenges or unintended consequences. One study discussed changes to communal perceptions as a result of ecotourism, such as decreasing practices of reciprocity and social conflict as members disagree on how to use or spend the money received. Efforts to restore forests through planting new trees, while important, does not directly stop the continued deforestation and degradation in other parts of the region. All conservation approaches must be complemented by supportive, enforceable government policies. More specifically, the government must decrease extractive activities that harm the environment, while providing balanced alternatives for livelihoods. Generally, more political will is necessary to enforce rules that respect and protect the environment.

Tino shared a piece of wisdom that has stuck with me: real change comes from a change in mentality. People need to understand and internalize that we, humans, have a responsibility to do something to restore and protect the environment. As demonstrated by ecotourism and communal agreements, there are opportunities for action, and together these actions can make and push for a change in perspective.

Sources

[1] Pablo Correa, “Losing the Connection between the Andes and the Amazon: A Price of Peace in Colombia,” Knowable Magazine | Annual Reviews, February 22, 2024, https://knowablemagazine.org/content/article/food-environment/2024/deforestation-threatens-andes-amazon-connection-colombia.
[2] WWF “Amazon,” accessed March 23, 2024, https://www.worldwildlife.org/places/amazon.
[3] World Bank, “Why the Amazon’s Biodiversity Is Critical for the Globe: An Interview with Thomas Lovejoy,” May 22, 2019, https://www.worldbank.org/en/news/feature/2019/05/22/why-the-amazons-biodiversity-is-critical-for-the-globe.
[4] Global Environment Facility, “Amazon,” accessed March 23, 2024, https://www.thegef.org/what-we-do/topics/amazon.
[5] Julian Smith and Jill Schwartz, “Deforestation in Peru,” WWF, 2015, https://www.worldwildlife.org/magazine/issues/fall-2015/articles/deforestation-in-peru.

Music and Ecology: the Cultural Link in Peru

By Ben Forbes

In the historic district of Cusco, Peru, there is a little musical instrument shop run by a man named Sabino. There, he handcrafts traditional Peruvian and Incan instruments. When I visited, he showed us each instrument, played them, and explained some of their origins and symbols. I purchased an ocarina. On it is carved a condor, a puma, and a serpent, which are representative of the sky or heaven, earth, and the underworld in Incan culture (Gullberg & Malville, 2011). This instrument and its symbols represent the Incan worldview and show the link between Incan and Peruvian culture, music, and ecology.

The link between music and ecology is apparent when listening to Chimaycha, a genre of music that originated among Quechua people in the Andean region of Peru. Musicians played Chimaycha as part of an annual pastoral cycle that drove community animals to cooler or warmer climates. Herders, most of whom were young, single members of the community, would often gather for nightly music during these migrations. The songs became tied to the surrounding environment in which they gathered, with metaphors used to reference various species and geographic features (Tucker, 2016).  

Today, music sometimes plays an activist role in addressing environmental issues in Peru. For example, in the northern town of Cajamarca, mining operations expanded rapidly during the Fujimori regime. As the community began to see the negative environmental effects of gold mining, such as the degradation of water resources in the region, protests against the expansion of mining grew. The responding media and government campaign sought to characterize the Cajamarca people as “backward” and as obstructing progress. Activists against the mining then started utilizing music to promote their cause. Organized peasant farmer groups, called rondas, began singing songs during their meetings with lyrics that sought to empower workers in their fight for their way of life, the conservation of their environment, and to protect the health of their people. One such song is titled “Defendamos nuestras aguas” (Defending our water) (Mendívil, 2016).

Broader calls to action are present in Peruvian music. The Peruvian pop-rock star Pedro Suarez-Vertiz released an album in 2009 titled “Amazonas” that discusses the impacts of climate change in Peru in its titular track. Below is one translated verse from the song (Novey, 2017):  

The pollution

The pollution is a poison

The atmosphere is altered

And the valleys are drying up

And now the heat

Via the Greenhouse Effect

The water is evaporating

Musical protest in Peru predates modern times. When I visited Sabino’s music store, I noticed a donkey jawbone on the display table. To demonstrate its use, he picked it up and hit the side of the jaw with the bottom of his palm like a tambourine, making a loud rattle. He explained that Spanish colonists oppressed traditional music expression, so Peruvians had to find other ways to develop instruments. Typically, they turned to animal bones, as seen with the quena, a recorder-shaped wood flute made using alpaca, llama, or condor bones for the mouthpiece. 

In a more abstract case, anthropologist Christina Callicott explores the idea of music as a medium of conversation between people and plants in the Western Amazon. Shamans have a type of song called icaro which is associated with ayahuasca, a psychedelic plant with special healing properties and importance in indigenous rituals. Icaros are said to be acquired by shamans from the spirits of plants, animals, or other things. During a process called dieta, shamans isolate themselves in the jungle and consume various “teacher plants” with the goal of interacting with the plant’s spirit and learning a unique song (icaro) from it. Through this process, shamans learn how to heal (Callicott, 2013).

Perhaps Peru’s most famous musical export is the song “El Condor Pasa” (the Condor Passes). Lima native Daniel Alomia Robles, drew from Andean music when he composed the song for a zarzuela (lyric play) in 1913. In the play, Andean miners exploited by their boss observe a condor flying above, symbolizing freedom. The song, traditionally played on pan flutes and quena, became internationally famous after Simon and Garfunkel used the melody to underpin their song “El Condor Pasa” (If I Could) in 1970. Today, it is considered the ‘second national anthem’ of Peru (Traveling and Living in Peru, 2020). 

Environmental themes are present in much of Peruvian music, from the materials used to construct instruments, to the names of songs, to the use of music as a means of interacting with the environment. By considering Peru’s music, one can observe the importance of the environment in Peru and the role that music plays in uniting people around the cause of its protection. 

Citations

Callicott, Christina. (2013). Interspecies Communication in the Western Amazon: Music as a Form of Conversation Between Plants and People. European Journal of Ecopsychology. 4. 32-43.

Gullberg, S., & Malville, J. M. (2011). The Astronomy of Peruvian Huacas. Highlighting the History of Astronomy in the Asia-Pacific Region, 85–118. https://doi.org/10.1007/978-1-4419-8161-5_6

Mendívil, Julio. 2016. “Singing for Water, Singing Against Gold: Music and the Politics of Representation in the Peruvian Northern Andes”. TRANSRevista Transcultural de Música/Transcultural Music Review 20

Novey, L. (2017, December 7). Peruvian Rock Star Releases Climate Change Themed Song and video. HuffPost. https://www.huffpost.com/entry/peruvian-rock-star-releas_b_419030

Traveling and Living in Peru. (2020, June 15). El Cóndor Pasa: The fascinating story behind Peru’s famous song. Traveling and Living in Peru. https://www.livinginperu.com/el-condor-pasa-the-fascinating-story-behind-perus-famous-song/

Tucker, J. (2016). The machine of sonorous indigeneity: Craftsmanship and sound ecology in an Andean Instrument Workshop. Ethnomusicology Forum, 25(3), 326–344. https://doi.org/10.1080/17411912.2016.1246973 

Niche construction theory at Posada Amazonas

By Keeli Otto

Posada Amazonas illustrates how humans have engineered landscapes, including those in remote places such as the Amazon Rainforest. Through the lens of niche construction theory, I’ll explain how the Posada Amazonas ecolodge serves as an example of human influence in the rainforest landscape.

Entrance to the Posada Amazonas ecolodge (Photo by K. Otto)

Niche construction is the process through which an environment is modified by an organism (Odling-Smee et al. 1996, Shaffer 2024). For example, our guides explained to us that in the Amazon, the agouti are one of a few animals that can cut through the tough pod structure of the Brazil nut. Agoutis take advantage of this ability to extract the nuts and then store them, but they sometimes forget the storage location. The agouti’s foraging results in new Brazil nut trees growing where the forgotten nuts were left behind, inherently changing the landscape as new Brazil nut trees grow in the forest. In this simplified example, an animal alters their landscape. While a number of organisms can alter a given landscape, humans are considered the predominant ecosystem engineers due to the significance of the alterations influenced by human interaction (Shaffer 2024). Human niche construction is evidenced by the domestication of animals, which has affected ecosystems and required the creation of new landscapes, and can also be found in the alteration of landscapes through practices like land management and agriculture. For example, Maya forest garden researchers argue that the ancestral Maya’s relationship with the land resulted in present-day Maya forests (Ford and Nigh 2009). In the example of Posada Amazonas, I present some landscape alterations and the purposes behind these constructions.

I spoke with Rodolfo, our guide, about the initial use of the land where Posada Amazonas sits, and he explained to me that nomads once lived in the region, among the same forest that surrounds the lodge today. After determining the location for the lodge in 1996, workers cleared some forest for construction. Rodolfo explained that the materials for the lodge came from different sources; for example, the ironwood that is used for the primary pillars around the lodge (as shown in the photograph above) was brought in from Puerto Maldonado. He shared that several individuals constructed the thatched roof, each contributing different quantities of the woven pieces. Most of the materials brought in for initial construction of the lodge in 1997 were from Puerto Maldonado, delivered by boat on the Tambopata River.

I asked Rodolfo about the flora found along the ecolodge’s exterior, and he told me that the species is heliconia. These plants were planted both for decoration and to attract wildlife like hummingbirds which appreciate the bright red flowers. Rodolfo explained that heliconia are not found in this part of the forest; instead, they are often located on farms where the farmers view the plant as a weed. The heliconia further exemplifies the ways that the landscape has been altered by humans.

Heliconia plants located around the edge of the lodge (Photo by K. Otto)

Later, the class visited the botanical garden and learned about the practices of shamans and the use of medicinal herbs. The guides explained to us that in 1986, the garden was originally intended to be used to educate the Infierno community on medicinal herbs, but is now primarily used for excursions for Posada Amazonas guests. The guides informed us that three or four of the plants were brought into the garden and not originally found in the landscape. The botanical gardens provide another example of landscape alteration for specific purposes. In this case, the utilization of plants from other environments educates the public. 

Posada Amazonas serves as a site for education and environmental awareness. Context on the intended use of a site helps us to understand why humans may choose to modify a given landscape. While the Posada Amazonas is only a few decades old, the landscape construction raises questions about if, and how, the ecosystem may be affected by the niche construction. For instance, one inquiry might be on how wildlife behavior changes with the permanent presence of humans in the region after nomads formerly lived in the landscape. A researcher might consider asking how the forest might change with the presence of flora, like heliconia, from other landscapes. Additionally, this case provides insights into the reasonings behind landscape alterations and may provide more perspective for other examples of niche construction. Posada Amazonas serves as an excellent model for the ways in which humans alter the environment.

Citations

Ford, A and R. Nigh. 2009. “Origins of the Maya Forest Garden: Maya Resource Management.” Journal of Ethnobiology 29(2): 213-236.

Odling-Smee, F. John, Kevin N. Laland, and Marcus W. Feldman. “Niche Construction.” The American Naturalist 147(4): 641-648. 

Shaffer, L. Jen. 2024. “Niche Construction Theory: Domestication.” Class lecture, Ecological Anthropology, University of Maryland, College Park.

Contextualizing the Anti-Human Trafficking Aims of Peru’s Operation Mercury

By Samaa Eldadah

In February 2019, the Peruvian government launched an unprecedented armed military operation to disrupt illegal gold mining operations in the buffer zone of the Tambopata National Reserve, a major national park. The intervention, named Operation Mercury (Operación Mercurio) for the mercury pollution caused by small-scale gold mining, was launched with the stated goals of eradicating illegal mining activities and related crimes in Peru’s Madre de Dios region, from the drug trade to human trafficking to sexual exploitation (Ministry of the Interior, 2019). Historically, small-scale gold mining in Peru has resulted in devastating environmental consequences for Amazonian forest cover, biodiversity, and ecosystem health, in addition to considerable governance challenges and human rights abuses. While the Peruvian government has in effect condoned much of the illegal mining due to political corruption, Operation Mercury was a concerted policy response to growing pressure to address not only the environmental degradation but also crime and instability in the region (Dethier et al., 2023).

Extractive industries and trafficking ( Infographic by IUCN)

Short term, Operation Mercury proved successful. The targeted area surrounding La Pampa, formerly one of Peru’s largest illegal mining settlements, saw a 70-90% decrease in mining activity in the year following the intervention and the rescue of 120 women and girls employed in prostibares (brothels with bars) (Dethier et al., 2023; Moloney, 2020; Cortes-McPherson, 2020). However, within a year of Operation Mercury, illegal mining sites emerged in areas adjacent to La Pampa, and human trafficking and gender-based violence followed (Dethier et al., 2023; Moloney, 2020). The resurgence is not surprising. While the town of La Pampa has not rebounded due to remaining military outposts, Operation Mercury was unlikely to significantly temper the economic viability of gold mining operations throughout the country. At its economic peak prior to the intervention, La Pampa exemplified the profound environmental, social and governance challenges of resource frontiers with powerful organized crime networks, deeply entrenched corruption, poverty and income inequality, lacking state presence, and steadily increasing global gold prices. In effect, Operation Mercury has only exposed the resilience of these interconnected systems. 

As illegal mining operations grow, alternative economic opportunities (e.g. farming and small business ownership) become increasingly less feasible for low-income, rural populations struggling to make ends meet. Men independently travel from poorer regions of the country to join mining operations in the hopes of a well-paying job (Igarapé, 2022). In many cases, women and girls accept misleading job offers to work at restaurants and bars near the mining site (ARM, 2014). For many low-income workers in illegal mining camps, forced labor is a reality.

A sign in Lima’s Jorge Chavez International Airport reads “Caution! You could be a victim of human trafficking. “Perfect” job offers may not be as they appear…” (Photo by S. Eldadah)

Since Operation Mercury, the Peruvian government has advanced important anti-human trafficking policy initiatives. In December 2019, the Ministry of Women and Vulnerable Populations developed a guide for government ministries which details necessary policy changes to reintegrate human trafficking survivors. In July 2021, the government adopted its National Policy Against Human Trafficking which improves government tools to prevent and prosecute human trafficking (Ministry of the Interior, 2021). Given the challenges to advancing social policy initiatives in light of Peru’s political instability since 2016, Operation Mercury, the 2019 guide, and the 2021 national policy all represent significant government efforts against human trafficking. 

Non-governmental and foreign actors also play important roles. The US State Department supported the financing of the national policy, entered into a Child Protection Compact Partnership with the Peruvian Government, and funded local NGO efforts to provide services to survivors. In its ranking of countries in its Trafficking in Persons Report, the US State Department lists Peru as a Tier 2 nation (countries whose governments do not fully meet the minimum standards of the United States’ Trafficking Victims Protection Act of 2000 but are making significant efforts to bring themselves into compliance). Further, NGOs like Capital Humano y Social (CHS) Alternativo and Not For Sale Campaign have been critical in advancing anti-human trafficking policy.

References

Alliance for Responsible Mining (ARM) (2014). Addressing forced labor in artisanal and small scale mining. https://www.responsiblemines.org/images/sampledata/PressReleases/ForcedLaborToolkit%20-%20FINAL.pdf.

Cortés-McPherson, D. (2020). Digging into the Mining Subculture: The Dynamics of Trafficking in Persons in the Artisanal and Small-Scale Gold Mining of Peru’s Madre de Dios. In: Zabyelina, Y., van Uhm, D. (eds) Illegal Mining. Palgrave Macmillan, Cham. https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-46327-4_13.

Dethier, E. N., Silman, M. R., Fernandez, L. E., Espejo, J. C., Alqahtani, S., Pauca, P., & Lutz, D. A. (2023). Operation mercury: Impacts of national-level armed forces intervention and anticorruption strategy on artisanal gold mining and water quality in the Peruvian Amazon. Conservation Letters, 16, e12978. https://doi.org/10.1111/conl.12978

Hidalgo, D. (2019). Luego de Mercurio 2019: los resultados de este mega operativo respecto de la trata de personas. PUCP. https://idehpucp.pucp.edu.pe/revista-memoria/reportaje/luego-de-mercurio-2019-los-resultados-de-este-mega-operativo-respecto-de-la-trata-de-personas/.

Igarapé Institute (2022). The Roots of Environmental Crime in the Amazon. https://igarape.org.br/en/the-roots-of-environmental-crime-in-the-peruvian-amazon/.

Ministry of the Interior (2021). Política Nacional frente a la Trata de Personas y sus formas de explotación al 2030. https://www.gob.pe/institucion/mininter/informes-publicaciones/2385071-politica-nacional-frente-a-la-trata-de-personas-y-sus-formas-de-explotacion-al-2030.

Ministry of the Interior (2019). Gobierno inicia operación sin precedentes contra la minería ilegal en Madre de Dios. https://www.gob.pe/institucion/mininter/noticias/25760-gobierno-inicia-operacion-sin-precedentes-contra-la-mineria-ilegal-en-madre-de-dios.

Moloney, A. (2020). Sex trade flourishes in Peru’s Amazon despite crackdown on illegal mining. Reuters. https://www.reuters.com/article/us-peru-trafficking-mining/sex-trade-flourishes-in-perus-amazon-despite-crackdown-on-illegal-mining-idUSKBN1ZF0KE/.

U.S. Department of State. Trafficking in Persons Report (2023). https://www.state.gov/wp-content/uploads/2023/09/Trafficking-in-Persons-Report-2023_Introduction-V3e.pdf.

Notes from the western Amazon jungle –– are Crocs the new rain boots?

By Veronika Leitold

During our four-day stay at the Posada Amazonas eco-lodge located along the Tambopata River of Madre de Dios in southeast Peru, we had the opportunity to immerse ourselves in one of the most biodiverse areas of the planet and gain familiarity with the local flora and fauna while learning about the indigenous Ese’eja community’s sustainable ecotourism activities. In this part of the Peruvian Amazon, which is home to some of the largest trees in the tropics, rain does not fall continuously throughout the year, and the driest months generally occur from June through September, while the wet season extends from November through April (Lindsey, 2007). Given that our visit occurred in mid-March, which is typically still within the rainy season, we expected to be trudging through muddy lowland forest trails armored with heavy-duty rain ponchos and knee-high rubber boots. Instead, the environment seemed oddly dusty and dry. (Evidently, Crocs would be just fine.)

Our guides, Rodolfo and Josmel, who would lead us on several hikes into the jungle, sharing their expert knowledge about plants and animals along the way, explained that there has been a noticeable change in the rain patterns in the region over the past few years, and they have seen hotter and drier conditions setting in earlier than usual, affecting water levels in the river and in floodplain forests. This pattern has also been observed in other parts of the western Amazon rainforest (Hegarty, 2023), giving rise to serious concerns about the effects of climate change on this precious rainforest ecosystem (Fearnside & Silva, 2023). Given my innate love of forests and trees, especially tropical tree giants that can reach magnificent heights, live up to hundreds of years, and sequester vast amounts of carbon in their biomass, I couldn’t help but wonder about the potential future effects of an increasingly warmer and drier climate on the “three tree titans” of the Tambopata National Reserve: the Brazil nut tree, the Ironwood tree and the Ceiba tree.

From left: Brazil nut tree, Ironwood tree (Photos by V. Leitold) and Ceiba tree (Photo by Meera Kay)

The Brazil nut tree is one of the tallest and longest-lived trees in the Amazon and has both significant ecological importance and economic value. Curiously, this tree relies on a specific species of bee for pollination, therefore its cultivation outside of its natural habitat has not been successful. Consequently, Brazil nut harvesting (i.e., collecting the nuts from the forest floor during harvest season) remains a time-consuming and labor-intensive process which is often done by people from the local indigenous communities (Wikipedia, 2024a).

The Ironwood tree, as its name indicates, is a species with exceptionally dense and durable wood that is highly resistant to rot, decay, and insect damage, which makes it valuable for a variety of commercial purposes, such as construction, furniture making, tool handles, and in some cases for carvings or artistic purposes. Due to their commercial value, ironwood trees are threatened by overexploitation and habitat loss. Therefore, sustainable management practices and conservation efforts are essential to ensure the long-term viability of ironwood species in the Amazon (Wikipedia, 2024c).

The Ceiba tree, also known as the Kapok tree, is the tallest of the three and usually has a characteristically massive trunk covered in large buttresses that provide extra stability in the shallow tropical soil. This sacred tree holds significant cultural and spiritual importance for the indigenous cultures of the Peruvian Amazon and is believed to be home to spirits or gods. Since the wood of the Ceiba tree is lightweight and not particularly durable, it has limited commercial use, and its main importance lies in providing habitat for a wide range of plant and animal species, including nesting sites for various bird species (Wikipedia, 2024b).

Collectively, these large trees play a crucial role in the carbon cycle of the tropical forest, sequestering significant amounts of carbon dioxide from the atmosphere through photosynthesis and storing it in their biomass. However, recent studies indicate that large trees might be more sensitive to drought conditions than small trees (Bennett et al, 2015), which means that a changing climate could profoundly alter the structure, composition, and functioning of the Peruvian Amazon’s lush forest ecosystems. Higher temperatures, prolonged droughts, and increased frequency of extreme weather events like storms and hurricanes could lead to elevated mortality rates among large trees, reducing the capacity of these forests to store carbon and potentially turning them into carbon sources rather than sinks. Conservation efforts that focus on protecting intact forest ecosystems, reducing deforestation and degradation, and mitigating climate change are therefore crucial for preserving the integrity of these vital ecosystems and for keeping the tree giants of Tambopata thriving –– so that future generations can still marvel at their magnificent stature and beauty.

Class at the base of a Ceiba tree (Photo by V. Leitold)

References

Bennett A., McDowell N., Allen C., et al. Larger trees suffer most during drought in forests worldwide. Nature Plants 1, 15139 (2015). https://doi.org/10.1038/nplants.2015.139

Fearnside P. & Silva RA. Amazon region hit by trio of droughts in grim snapshot of the century to come. The Conversation, Published: November 22, 2023. (https://theconversation.com/amazon-region-hit-by-trio-of-droughts-in-grim-snapshot-of-the-century-to-come-217652)

Hegarty S. Amazon drought: ‘We’ve never seen anything like this’. BBC World Service, Published on December 25, 2023. https://www.bbc.com/news/world-latin-america-67751685

Lindsey R. The Amazon’s Seasonal Secret, NASA Earth Observatory, Published: May 31, 2007. https://earthobservatory.nasa.gov/features/AmazonLAI

Tavares JV., Oliveira RS., Mencuccini M., et al. Basin-wide variation in tree hydraulic safety margins predicts the carbon balance of Amazon forests. Nature 617, 111–117 (2023). https://doi.org/10.1038/s41586-023-05971-3

Wikipedia contributors. “Brazil nut.” Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia, 1 Apr. 2024. Web. 12 Apr. 2024.

Wikipedia contributors. “Ceiba pentandra.” Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia, 8 Apr. 2024. Web. 12 Apr. 2024.

Wikipedia contributors. “Dipteryx micrantha.” Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia, 3 Feb. 2024. Web. 12 Apr. 2024.

Land Rights and the Ese’eja Native Community of Infierno

By Maryam Mashayekhi

During our time in the Amazon region of Madre de Dios in southeast Peru, we saw firsthand how the Native Community of Infierno engages in self-managed local development and capacity building through their involvement in Posada Amazonas, a cooperative arrangement between the Ese’eja indigenous community and an ecotourism company, Rainforest Expeditions. The community could enter this joint venture nearly three decades ago in part due to the Peruvian government’s legal recognition of indigenous territories and the autonomy it afforded the Ese’eja to make decisions on the modern use of their ancestral land. 

The first legal attempt to formalize property rights and promote development throughout the Peruvian Amazon was the Law of Native Communities and Agrarian Regional Promotion in the Low Lands Forests and Valleys. The primary goal of this 1974 law was to increase investment in agricultural production and timber extraction by rural settlement projects in the region. However, it was also “the first legislation that recognized explicitly Amazonian indigenous groups as entitled to legal protection and recognition, as well as to collective land rights (1).” The law stipulated the demarcation of indigenous community lands via enrollment in a registry of native communities and then granted formal legal recognition of communal titles and inalienable territorial rights to groups like the Ese’eja Native Community of Infierno. Throughout the 1970s, subsequent legal decrees created regulatory schemes that formalized collective rights to land and forests in the Peruvian Amazon. Implementation of these new frameworks proved challenging, and ultimately required advocacy from emergent groups like the Interethnic Association for the Development of the Peruvian Amazon (AIDESEP), who were established in 1979 and became a key stakeholder in mobilizing land rights for native communities. Between 1976 and 1979, native communities obtained title to nearly 1.5 million hectares in the Amazon (2). By 2017, more than 1,300 indigenous communities obtained title to more than 12 million hectares of land in the Peruvian Amazon—about 17 percent of the country’s forest area (3).

The Ese’eja Native Community of Infierno established their formal territory in 1976 in an area encompassing 9,558 hectares of land on either side of the Tambopata River. The land is communally owned by around 150 families of varying backgrounds including Ese’eja, mestizos from other parts of the Amazon, and Quecha-speaking migrants from the Andes (4). As explained by Rodolfo, one of our guides at Posada Amazonas and an Ese’eja community member, legal recognition in 1976 created a singular, collectively-owned land title. Through a collaborative process, community members determined land allocations across the community. First-generation farmers received 30 hectares of land, though today most farmers only use one or two hectares for small-scale local agricultural activities. As the land is communally owned, individual members do not have the right to sell their property and are constrained by community rules on land use. The community has also come to an agreement on how certain areas of land will be used–for instance, Posada Amazonas is located in a 3,000 hectare area devoted to conservation and ecotourism activities, which accounts for nearly 30% of community land.

As we saw at Posada Amazonas, the potential to improve local livelihoods can be realized when the autonomy of communities like the Ese’eja are upheld and safeguarded. The territorial tenure granted to Infierno made way for the joint venture that led to the establishment of the ecolodge. The ecolodge generates employment opportunities, contributes to community wellbeing, and conserves one of the most biodiverse regions on the planet. But recognition of land claims and access to resources does not guarantee a success. Rodolfo noted that despite legal protections for formally recognized community territory, the national government’s initial acknowledgment of collective land rights in the 1970s did not come with additional support to further empower communities. Historically, Infierno and other rural communities in the Amazon have received little support from regional or national governments, have “poor access to credit and service extensions,” and have “little infrastructure for education, health, and transportation (5).” Additionally, communities like Infierno that inhabit resource-rich land face mounting pressure from extractive industries. The national government’s support for lucrative ventures like gold mining and logging far outweighs the support it offers to indigenous communities. In the years to come, the interests of these industries will likely push up against the interests of communities like Infierno.

References

(1) Monterroso I., Cronkleton, P., Pinedo, D. & Larson AM., 2017. Reclaiming collective rights: Land and forest tenure reforms in Peru (1960-2016). Working Paper 224. CIFOR. https://www.cifor.org/publications/pdf_files/WPapers/WP224Monterroso.pdf

(2) Ibid.

(3) Fraser, B., 2017. Long road ahead to indigenous land and forest rights in Peru. Forests News CIFOR. https://forestsnews.cifor.org/50276/long-road-ahead-to-indigenous-land-and-forest-rights-in-peru?fnl=en

(4)  Stronza, A.L., 2010. Commons management and ecotourism: Ethnographic evidence from the Amazon. The Commons Journal, 4(1), p.56-77.DOI: https://doi.org/10.18352/ijc.137

(5) Ibid.

The Role and Future of the Giant Amazon River Otter

By Laura Fairman

Our group was lucky enough to spend several days in the Peruvian Amazon, hosted by Rainforest Expeditions at Posada Amazonas Lodge. On March 17, 2024, we spent about four hours at an oxbow lake to observe wildlife in their natural habitat of the Amazon Rainforest, the world’s most biodiverse ecosystem. We trekked from the Tambopata River into the Tambopata National Reserve, arriving at Tres Chimbadas Lake, named after the slang word “chimbadas”, or river crossing, after about thirty minutes. There, we hopped on a large raft vessel which was guided by a wide, manual rudder rather than an engine, and on to the lake. This freshwater lake is roughly one mile long and 12 feet deep. Tres Chimbadas is an oxbow lake, meaning it naturally split off from a river bend to create a shallower lake as the water found a shorter course. 

The calm, mid-sized Tres Chimbadas is absolutely teeming with animal and plant life, including piranhas, caimans, and eels in the water, and hoatzins and toucans in the sky. It has tall, swamp-like grasses on some sides of the lake, where we observed birds, and in the water, a black caiman crossed the lake with its nose halfway out of the water. Above us, three howler monkeys huddled on a tall tree branch, sitting very still. Our group became very excited when the guides pointed out some otters distantly visible on a far shore. We followed them with our binoculars as they swam gracefully along the lake, their little heads held above the water as they swam with their bodies and tails beneath the surface. Our boat crossed the lake to observe the otters, keeping a safe distance from them and keeping our noise levels low, as is required on the lake due to the otters’ sensitive nature. 

Observing the Giant Amazon River Otter

We were very lucky to observe seven otters, including two baby otters estimated to be about 20 days old, for over half an hour. We watched silently as the otters flipped above and below the surface of the water, sometimes pulling up fish to share with the babies or eat themselves. The baby otters were just learning to fish and struggled to catch them. The otter family crawled up and off the land, traversing the shoreline to sit on the lake’s edge and swim. They growled and made other loud noises, to which the guides explained that they are a very communicative species. We were all fascinated by the giant otters and grateful to observe all seven of them for as long as we did. The remainder of this blog post provides some context on this amazing animal, their habitat, and forecasts for the future of this endangered species.

Background on the Giant Amazon River Otter

Giant Amazon River Otters (Pteronura brasiliensis), also known as Giant Otters, Giant Brazilian Otters, and locally as the “River Wolf” (lobo del río), are apex predators that sit at the top of the food chain and have few predators. They typically measure about five feet, weigh around 50 pounds, and live for roughly 8 years. They have a white spot that runs from their jaw to their chest which serves as a unique identifier for each otter, similar to the human fingerprint. Otters are social, family-based animals, displaying complex emotions which researchers have studied, and which we were able to see and hear in action. Otter families have one breeding couple, and the female otter is the matriarch of the family. Otters also practice alloparenting, meaning non-parents of the family unit help raise the younger otters.

According to the Rainforest Expedition guides, giant otters eat up to 4 kilos of fish per day. This high demand for food requires the family unit to sometimes force out a few of its own, only once the baby otters are at least two years old. By keeping the family of otters smaller, the family can meet its food needs without overwhelming the environment. Otters who are pushed out by their family unit have a difficult journey to find a new home, as navigating the land is not their strong suit compared with the water. Otters in transit are vulnerable to land predators, and some do not survive the journey to the river or to find a new partner.

Giant Amazon River Otters (photo by Delaney West)

Otter Habitat Forecast

After spending time observing them, I was interested to learn from our Ese’eja guides and do further research on how giant otters interact with their habitat, the oxbow lakes. How have giant otters been affected by human activity, and how is climate change projected to alter the course for the future of this important species?

The giant otter population was heavily impacted by pelt hunting in the 20^th century until Peru’s national government instituted a ban in 1973. In 1975, the Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species of Wild Fauna and Flora (CITES) listed the species as an Appendix I animal, halting international trade. Researchers observed population recovery once protections were increased for the otters, such as in Manu National Park, where a study running from 1991-2006 found that the species count jumped from a low of 42 in 1994 to a high of 88 in 2004. 

Today, giant Amazon river otters remain endangered as gold mining and deforestation for timber threaten the oxbow lake ecosystem. The process of gold mining creates mercury runoff, which contaminates the water in the Madre de Dios region. A 2013 study of the Tambopata River, where Tres Chimbadas Lake is located, measured water contamination levels by mercury in fish. Although mining activity did not take place at the study site, the authors found mercury in several species of fish at levels higher than the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) guidelines for human consumption. Mercury accumulation in otters and their food sources may impact their reproductive health and survival. Logging and mining activities also impact the quantity of fish which live in the oxbow lakes, reducing the giant otter’s food source. 

To protect the giant otters in the face of future climate change, conservationist Jessica Groenendijk asserts that artisanal gold mining activity in the region must be reduced, education should be provided to locals and visitors on best practices when entering an otter’s habitat, and protected areas expanded. Future infrastructure development such as hydroelectric dams should take into consideration local wildlife populations that may be harmed if built. Further research may support a greater understanding of the giant otters and the risks humans and climate change pose to the species. Our group was very lucky and thankful to observe this giant otter family and reflect on its important status in the Amazon.

Hiding in Plain Sight: Integration and Preservation of Quechua Culture and Religion

By Kimberly Keravuori

As a child, I was fascinated with the Moiri, the three goddesses who collectively made up the Greek concept of fate, and their Norse counterparts, the Norn. It was the idea of a life being like a thread, spun and woven, integrating with others to form a tapestry, and then being cut, that fascinated me. That interest has persisted in other forms throughout my life, as I’ve observed the intricacies of complex systems dynamics, considered how cultures ebb and flow, and seen how the facts of peoples’ lives interconnect to cause events to occur a certain way on a given day and current events to emerge from a thread reaching back to decisions and actions of people long ago deceased. As I’ve lived in different parts of the world, I’ve also seen this concept play out in how religions spread and are integrated when cultures come together, whether by domination, or through the slower process of inter-mixing and settlement. 

Peruvians, from the interior reaches of the Amazon to the high Andean reaches of the former Incan center of Cusco, are predominantly Roman Catholic. But this Catholicism varies in each country, and even from region to region, because of the cultural threads that were woven together as Catholicism and pre-existing cultures merged. In Peru, the major confluence was that of the Incan Empire and Spanish conquest, beginning in 1532. Although the Spanish were insistent about conversion, often by force and in other cases by making benefits and status contingent on conversion, Peruvian people also often chose to convert.

However, the Spanish conquest, though it did devastate indigenous cultures and population, was not complete in destroying those cultures or religions, nor did it completely convert people to Catholicism.  Matthew Restall highlights these two misconceptions in his book The Seven Myths of the Spanish Conquest, and it is partly these two anomalies of the conquest that enabled religion in Peru, particularly in the Andes, to intertwine multiple threads into the rich fusion tapestry it is today. Contrary to common statements, pockets of indigenous peoples and practices continued to exist for several centuries after the conquest (what Restall calls ‘the myth of completion’).  In addition, not all of the people within the Incan empire or Peru saw the Spanish as conquerors (what Restall calls ‘the myth of native desolation’); some partnered with the Spanish to their advantage. 

It is important to remember that the Incas were themselves conquerors and they required people they conquered to pay homage and provide service to the Inca. They also spread their religion as part of their empire, though they did not force conversion. They permitted conquered groups to continue practicing their own religions even as other people in the same area adopted Incan beliefs. As a result, over time the religious traditions across the Incan Empire acquired a commonality to them, but they also regularly integrated new beliefs and practices and had small differences from region to region. The merging of these religions and beliefs was primarily harmonious and created a precedent in which the people of the Andes were accustomed to the idea of multiple belief systems co-existing.

The Cathedral Basilica in Cusco (Photo credit: Kimberly Keravuori)

That isn’t to say that the process of integration with Catholicism was harmonious. But I think the precedent forged under the Inca was one factor that enabled the Andean people to preserve and integrate their existing religions into Catholicism as they were required to convert. Another factor was an aspect of traditional Andean societal structure. Traditionally, indigenous populations lived in an ayllu, which was a small, self-sufficient community with a cacique, or village leader. The village’s contact with the outside world was through the cacique, who handled tribute duties with the Inca, and later the Spanish. They appeased the Spanish by providing the required labor and tribute while allowing, as much as possible, indigenous identity and beliefs to continue in the ayllu. Although the cacique had to assure, and often show, the Spanish that Catholicism was actually being practiced in the ayllu, this was accomplished by means of constructing an outward Catholic façade around the indigenous belief system and religious practices. These embedded symbols and practices continued for hundreds of years this way and are still seen within important Catholic places like the Cusco cathedral. The was facilitated to some extent by certain similarities between the two belief systems. For example, the Andean cultures believed in ancestor communication and guidance as part of their religion, which was able to integrate with Catholic saint systems.

Last Supper by Marcos Zapata, Cusco Cathedral (Photo from https://www.artinsociety.com/on-the-trail-of-the-last-supper.html)

During our visit to the Cusco cathedral, built on top of a grand Incan palace and in the plaza that was once the site of Inti-Rayni, the festival of the Incan sun god, our guide pointed out numerous ways in which the indigenous artists and artisans forced to build and decorate the cathedral had incorporated their own beliefs and practiced the same concept of including their own beliefs and iconography “in plain sight” within the outward Catholic facade. After being taught Spanish painting styles, for example, and forced to paint a fresco of the Christian Last Supper, the Quechua artist Marcus Zapata wove elements of the indigenous culture into the Catholic image. The food on the table is not wine and bread, but an Andean meal, complete with guinea pig. Jesus has raised two fingers, but not outwardly in the Catholic sign of baptism and benediction, but toward himself. And the person of Judas has the face of Francisco Pizzaro, who led the Spanish conquest of Peru. 

As another example, in the incredibly beautifully carved wooden decorations of the choir, each chair has one leg carved with the image of a pregnant woman, representing Pachamama, the Andean goddess of the earth, her stomach appearing as a potato, an earth symbol.  

In a mural by Basilio Santacruz Pachimuti in 1698, depicting the Virgin Mary, her skirt is shaped like a mountain, also an allusion to the Quechua goddess of earth, and the image of her baby is subtly superimposed with the beak and head of a Peruvian condor, one of the three important animals of the Quechua belief system about the three parts of the world (condor, snake, puma). Another painting in the cathedral has the head of a puma. And, in addition to a standard Catholic sculpture of Christ on the cross, Cusco artisans sculpted another image of Christ, with long hair of indigenous style, a gilded skirt representative of the wealthy dress of the local culture, and looking down toward Pachamama, rather than up to the heavens. 

Our guide, Marco, explained that the Spanish characterized these alterations to Catholic iconography as ‘mistakes’ by the primitive artists. But, given the clear skill of the work and the forced oversight of the Spanish, it is clear they were not mistakes.

The were also underground tunnels or crypts beneath the cathedral, and when they were accessed in the 1900s, they found evidence of Incan sacrifices in those tunnels dating to the 1700s, two centuries after the cathedral was built.  In these myriad ways, despite the conquest, the local population continued to preserve their culture and beliefs and carry them forward. Today, the Quechua people are proud of their heritage and the ways they have managed to preserve it despite centuries of colonial rule, even though they are also strongly Catholic. The fusion and integration of the threads of both cultures are part of a newer culture they embody.

References:

Covey, R.A. (2020). Inca apocalypse: The Spanish conquest and the transformation of the Andean world. Oxford University Press.

Kuraka Travel. Exploring the historical and spiritual grandeur: The cathedral of Cusco. Online website (visit March 2024).

Machu Travel Peru. (2022). All about the Cusco cathedral. Online website (visit March 2024).

Restall, M. (2003). Seven myths of the Spanish conquest. Oxford University Press.

Tour of Cusco Cathedral and Koricancha, led by guide, Marco. March 2024.

Visits to Museo Casa Concha and Museo Inka in Cusco. March 2024.

Wernke, S.A. (2013). Negotiated settlements: Andean communities and landscapes under Inka and Spanish colonialism. University Press of Florida.

Why I Wish I Hadn’t Seen My Favorite Animal

By Jayden Phillip

I was recently blessed with the wonderful experience of being in the Amazon rainforest in Madre De Dios, Peru. As a child, I was always fascinated by wildlife and loved going to the zoo; however, it was much more exciting to me to see animals in the wild—in their natural habitat. When I found out I was going to be in the middle of the Peruvian Amazon, the first thing that came to my mind was, “I need to see a jaguar.” I love nearly all animals, but Panthera onca is one of my absolute favorites and was the only one I knew I couldn’t leave without seeing. Our guide, Rodolfo, asked us what animals we were hoping to see during our stay while we were on the way to the lodge. To my disappointment, Rodolfo laughed when I told him I wanted to see a jaguar. He told me it was very unlikely; almost impossible. I know jaguars are a rare sight to see, as they are a threatened species and are very elusive, but I had high hopes that somehow the group would spot one at some point during our five-day stay at Posada Amazonas. However, my hopes were entirely crushed when Josmell, the other guide, told us that jaguars are normally spotted on the riverbank during the dry season, from early May through early November. At this time of year, he said, they would be deep in the forest, so there was no chance of seeing them while we were there in mid-March. At that point, I accepted that I would not see this majestic creature and had already started thinking about traveling back to the Amazon in the summer just to see one.

And yet a few hours later…

A surpising discovery! (Photo credit: Jayden Philip)

The picture above shows the jaguar that we saw on the bank on the Tambopata River. I was kicking my feet like a little kid when my friend Rebecca and I spotted the jaguar laying at the riverbank, exactly where Josmell said they would not be at this time of year. But wait—jaguars shouldn’t be near the river for another month and a half, so why was it there so early in the year? Once my pure excitement died down about three days later, I thought about why we were able to witness a jaguar against all odds. I wondered if climate change is affecting the Amazon’s seasonal cycles. More specifically, I hypothesized that climate change is leading to an early onset of the dry season which has come to alter the behavior of wildlife in the jungle, hence why we saw a jaguar at the riverbank in mid-March. 

After doing research, I found that my hypothesis was correct: climate change is affecting the Amazon’s seasonal cycles, with one study reporting that changes in atmospheric circulation patterns translate to both an early onset and a late ending of the dry season (Agudelo et al., 2023). This is particularly concerning given that jaguars are a threatened species. The dry season is considerably hotter than the rest of the year. Josmell explained that jaguars stay nearer to the Amazon River and its tributaries to manage heat stress during the dry season. Recently, jaguars and other animals have been recorded displaying altered behavioral patterns associated with heat stress avoidance (Buchholz, 2021). 

Jaguars may not survive much longer in the wild. A 46 percent reduction of their historic range has been observed as of 2002 (Villalva, 2022). It was quite disheartening to realize that seeing the jaguar at the riverbank was me witnessing the animal dealing with climate change. As exciting as it was to see my favorite animal in real life in its natural habitat, I honestly wish it had been in the depths of the forest like it was supposed to be.

References

Agudelo, J., Espinoza, J. C., Junquas, C., Arias, P. A., Sierra, J. P., & Olmo, M. E. (2023). Future Projections of Low-Level Atmospheric Circulation Patterns Over South Tropical South America: Impacts on Precipitation and Amazon Dry Season Length. Journal of Geophysical Research: Atmospheres, 128(22). https://doi.org/10.1029/2023JD038658

Buchholz, R., J. Stamn, & S.A. Neha. (2021). Can camera traps be used to measure climate change induced alterations of the activity patterns of elusive terrestrial vertebrates? Climate Change Ecology, 2, 100020. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.ecochg.2021.100020

Villalva, P., & F. Palomares. (2022). A continental approach to jaguar extirpation: A tradeoff between anthropic and intrinsic causes. Journal for Nature Conservation, 66. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.jnc.2022.126145 

Boat on the Tambopata River

Boat on the Tambopata River (Photo: T. Hilde)