Amazon without Borders

Part 2: by Jacob Glass

By KAVU

May 12^th, 2020

One day, during my first trip to Colombia in January 2019, I landed my paraglider in a sugarcane field across the road from a small restaurant. I packed up my glider and headed inside for a cold drink.

The shade and gentle breeze offered a break from the intense heat of the midday sun when I noticed a dusty, but well-detailed map of the country hung on the wall. I sipped my limonada de coco while inspecting the names of Colombia’s most notable cities, mountain ranges, and waterways. My curiosity sparked upon noticing that the southern-most town, Leticia, was situated along the banks of the Amazon River.

Fast-forward a year, I met my good friend Noe for yet another KAVU adventure.

Noe’s father Jorge, who was born in the northern part of Colombia but moved to the U.S in his 30s, told us all about the time he had visited Leticia and strongly recommended that we make our own journey there.

A brick wall of humid, hot air hit us hard as we descended the stairs from the plane. Daily temperatures range from the mid 90s during the day.... to the high 70s at night year round. A sign in Spanish above the baggage claim read, “Welcome to the Land of Three Borders.” From our hotel, we could walk to Brazil, while getting to Peru required a hiring a boat for a fifteen minute ride.

Leticia is a small, but bustling population-center that profits mostly as a shipping port. Although the streets and storefronts are similar to most Colombia cities, there is an interesting museum that interprets the ecosystems of the area and histories of the different native peoples.

We oriented ourselves to the main thoroughfares and finalized arrangements for an early morning birding excursion that next day. Elis - a school teacher and the knowledgable wildlife guide - told us that the thing to see while in Leticia was the swarm parakeets returning to their roosts in the main park during the sunset. I thought that he was pulling our legs when he estimated 15,000-20,000 birds would fly in over the course of an hour.

Nevertheless, we followed his instructions, and went to the church next to the park, paid the equivalent of one US dollar each, climbed the steeple, passed the massive bells, and reached the platform overlooking the treetops.

Groups of dozens of little green missiles darted through the air and alighted on the canopies. While those birds settled in for the night, more and more kept coming. Noe steered my attention towards a raptor in a stoop. We watched as it nailed one of the parakeets and flew off with its quarry!

When 15,000-20,000 birds are in one area, there are going to be a few casualties.

Elis met us curbside with a grin and hot coffee early the next morning. By early, I mean 4:45am.

He excitedly pointed out the birds perched atop the lamp poles and electric wires as the three of us walked down to the docks. Once there, we boarded the small watercraft and motored down the tributary to access the main stretch of the Amazon River.

The din of engine grew louder as we moved quickly across the broad expanse of water. Large branches, and sometimes whole trees, rose from the river in all directions but our driver deftly and swiftly navigated this debris maze. The boat glided up the mouth of a different tributary, and Elis stated casually that we were now in Peru.

Dawn cracked open at 5:45am and so did the forest with noise. Elis sifted through the chaotic uproar and started pointed out individual birds songs and calls. As the sun’s rays hit the world, he began to point out kingfishers darting above the water. Larger birds sat higher up, surveying the new day. Howler monkeys howled in the distance, while their smaller relatives moved furtively among the branches. For hours we went further and further up the waterway in search of whatever wildlife we might chance upon.

Often, we passed modern indigenous families motoring in their dugout canoes between villages. They disappeared up were innumerable side streams between the entangling trees. For them, these were well known paths. Had I been in charge of navigation that day, we would have ended up irreversibly lost.

One of the highlights of the day came as we were checking out two Black hawk-eagles, which are already great finds. Fifteen minutes passed before we noticed that in the same tree a Three-toed Sloth was feeding on leaves!!

The sloth, true to its name, slowly crept from branch to branch. It was only after another fifteen minutes had passed before we noticed the real depth of our luck: a small head peaked around from the mother’s stomach!! A baby sloth clung its long arms tightly around its mother’s torso. Neither Noe nor I had ever seen a sloth before, so this was quite the mesmerizing first encounter.

The long hours watching the wildlife left us utterly content and painfully sun burnt. We made a U-turn and headed back to the docks. Crossing the Amazon in the late afternoon was a much more populated experience. Supply barges, water taxis, and more dugout canoes plied the sunlit surface of the second longest river in the world.

Lost in the scene, I just barely noticed a fairly large pink thing breach for a moment not too far in the distance.....

My excitement surged immediately.

I trained my binoculars on where I estimated it would appear again. Each second felt like ten minutes. It surfaced again, giving me a great look at the long nose, bulbous head, and short dorsal fin of an Amazon river dolphin.

These freshwater dolphins, either gray or Pepto Bismol-pink, hunt fish and play significant roles in the folklores of the region. Seeing one towards the end of an already exceptional day felt like magic.

We passed the next two days in the most upriver Colombian town. Porto Narino is a charming town with a much more tranquil ambience than Leticia. The reason for its calm character is pretty obvious: no wheeled means of transport are allowed.

No cars. No bikes. All day long, the town’s 6000 residents and the nominal daily influx of tourists walk to and fro on the pink paved walkways. Whether going to work, getting the groceries, or visiting a friend, it was all done on foot. At night, it seemed like most of the population gathered in then town center to socialize, play soccer on the illuminated field, or watch soccer in the bars. Later on, music pumped in the clubs and most headed that way. An evening dancing in the middle of the Amazon jungle... how could we say no?

During our last night in Leticia, while ambling aimless on the sidewalks, I noticed a large group of tourists with the latest and greatest binoculars dangling around their necks. Birders are always easy to spot. But who did we next recognized among the merry gang?

Elis! We caught up with him and found out that he was the guide for the next few days for this group from Denmark. After some light talk, we told him we should go because it was late and our plane out was early the next morning.

He grinned and slyly asked, “But what about los buhos?”

Well Played....

Elis knew me well enough at that point to know I could not say no to los buhos, which in english means, ‘the owls.’

So there we were: two Americans, one Belgian, and a handful of Danes following around a relentlessly energetic Colombian through the main park in search of several owl species that I probably would only have this opportunity to see. We found the owls. Lucho, who didn’t really know that bird watching was a thing before this, enjoyed seeing the large eyes and sharp talons through the binoculars that one of the Danes kindly lent him. That night we experienced one of the great opportunities of traveling: a group of strangers brought together and enlivened by unexpected encounters in a new setting.