The silent glide of the dugout parts the still water as the green enchantment fills our senses. So unfamiliar and unusual are the sights, sounds, and aromas that we are mesmerized, numbed by the experiences. Intruders in this wildness we are reminded of the discordance as the enchantment is suddenly broken by a cacophony of calls from the overhanging vegetation. Surrounded and draped by the noise, almost within reach you can't help but be startled by the nearness, as a flock of Greater Anis echoes their alarm. Our intrusion into this sylvan birthplace of the mighty Amazon River is loudly revealed. We slip past them with the single stoke of a broad paddle hewn from this ancient forest. As quickly as it began the cacophony ceases and a low-pitched synchronic humming utters from the same flock. They seem to be discussing our departure just as they announced our arrival.

Encompassing the geography of six or seven countries and XXX square miles, the Amazon Basin drains from the eastern slope of the Andes, rooted here in Ecuador. Volcanic peaks pierce the clouds here. Their staggering height and dramatic presence inspired the pre-Columbian Inca to give then names of reverence. Cotapaxi, Cercumbura, and__________ all top 19,000feet while Cuyambe reaches to a rarifed _________ Feet. Rising to _______ feet ___________ lies within ______miles of the equator! Every step a gasp for air, you can climb to glacial fields in the dead of summer smack on the equator!

But this is all a distant memory here on the Cuyabeno River. Mirrored on the quiet water surface, the jungle edge rises to the imposing canopy above. Rounding an oxbow bend in the river, the canopy opens and a shaft of sunlight stabs down in contrast to the jungle's darkness. Here, a turtle suns itself on the floating log keen to the opportunity for sunlight and its warmth.

Ecuadorians say that there are two seasons here in the jungle: the wet season and the very wet season. Having arrived at our outpost in the "wet season", we are reminded of this saying as the gentle rain chatters on the thatch of our accommodations overhead. Born in the warm waters of the Caribbean, the dark clouds clap with thunder and a flash on the distant horizon, with bolts of lightening. The heavenly energy passes quickly but the rain lingers for an hour or two. Once the rain is gone, the birds join the frog chorus in a vocal celebration of the warmth and dampness. The moisture and warmth provide an ideal environment for a fungus garden. A mycologists paradise, this is no place for someone with allergies to fungal spores! The variety and abundance of fungi is staggering. Neither plant nor animal, these are the primary decomposers, recyclers of the senescent woods and leaf litter that form the sponge-like substrate of the forest floor. The fungi are everywhere; their delicate and colorful mycelia feed and emerge from the fallen litter. Everywhere the living green is punctuated by the harvest of the dead. This antipodes is not a new ecological dimension, but nowhere is it so dramatic as in this spongy tropical moist forest floor! Fiercely competitive for the first rays of sunlight, germinating seed must penetrate this sponge, or fortuitously land upon mineral earth gouged by a falling timber, or cast aside by a burrowing armadillo. Once rooted, the struggle for sunlight begins, each species of plant having evolved its own strategy to collect an essential share of the precious solar energy. Some species shoot upward dedicating the totality of their resources to height. As such, they are devoid of branches until they near an opening in the canopy, high above the rest of the greenery. Tall, narrow, branchless trunks support a crown of leaves that gather the sunlight in prodigious amounts. Fueled by the sun, they gather the carbon from the atmosphere to build the cellulose of their woody frame, and anchor themselves with an expanding array or roots across the forest floor. Still others, growing more slowly, cling to the cellulose stairway of the limbless giants. Veining and entwining, they creep upward commensally dependent on their hosts for support. Not to be so used, the _______has evolved a strategy to shed these botanical freeloaders. Several times each year, this species sheds its bark! Exfoliating huge sheets of its outer skin, all that clings here is dropped to the ground. With the omnipresence of the epiphytic growth throughout the jungle, these smooth barked trees are a stark contrast to an otherwise layering of greenery. But the search for light is still more complex than this! Plant growth is not just a one-way proposition of root to shoot. Many species of Fichus cast sweet or colorful fruits to attract frugiverous birds. Etched by the chemistry of the avian digestive system, these seeds will germinate, sans the mineral earth. Passed during the bird's arboreal peregrinations, these seeds commence their struggle already high in the canopy. Taking hold of their host, they grow downward as fast as they grow up to the sun. Having already started on third base, they hit a home run quickly reaching the upper canopy. Seasons may pass before they reach the forest floor, to eventually root there. In the meanwhile, they have unfolded their leaves to collect the sun, and to compete with their hosts for the precious commodity. Sometimes known as Strangler Figs, these plants can completely encompass a tree, forming a network of anatomizes between their vines. Once aged and senescent, the host unable to compete for the sunlight, it wanes and dies. As the host succumbs and the fungi extracts its toll, the former giant slowly disappears as a mound of cellulose sponge beneath and within the fig. All stages of this sequence are to be found in a mature primary tropical forest, such as here in the Cuyabano region. In the final stage the fig stands to the canopy as a bridging framework of vines, supporting it crown of leaves. The succession is without end however. While the fig has been successful in its quest for light, it has slowly accumulated its burden of epiphytic growth. In time this giant will succumb to these environmental stresses, and it too will crash to the darkness below. Mineral earth is gouged, a shaft of sunlight stabs through the opening in the canopy, and another seed of the giants finds it's beginning.

We were attracted here to the Cuyabano by the complexity of animals and plants. Always a student of the tropical moist forest, one lifetime is not enough to know the species and ecological framework of this disappearing biome. Within our limited visit, we attempt to form a symbiosis with this complex ecosystem before it is gone. Present rates of tropical moist forest clearing top________ square miles per year. Our shouts of concern fall on deft ears, as the government and human populace that control these territories struggle into the twentieth century, as the twenty-first is upon us. The forest is their livelihood, here for the taking. The forest stands in their way too. Short-term solutions to their economic morass require its extirpation and replacement with a more lucrative produce like cattle or grass, or sugarcane. They view our concerns and and shouts of alarm as just so much piety and further attempts at control. To a poor and hungry nation, arguments of genetic diversity, ecosystem complexity, and potential resources are foolishly esoteric. We have to think and act in a third world frame of reference if there is any hope of altering the present course of destruction. Economic reasons for keeping forests are all that will be understood. Ecotourism and reforestation are beginning to make sense to some of the more enlightened, forward-thinking, farsighted planners. But, the greatest cause of the deforestation is rooted in first-world resource gluttony. Occasionally, a mature hardwood giant is felled to carve a dugout, like the one we used to gain access to our Cuyabano outpost. Wholesale clearing however, is a timber export phenomenon. The first-world consumption and demand for the beauty and strength of these hardwoods is powerful incentive to the third-world economy. Oil and gas lay untapped beneath these same forests. As we navigate the Cuyabano River, we are reminded of Texaco's twenty years of exploration here. A narrow wisp of rainbow colors flash from the river surface: oil from a distant well! Middle Eastern uncertainties, depleted resources at home, and a growing demand, are additive to the certainty of further destruction. Our petroleum gluttony exacerbated the deforestation. Even the ubiquitous hamburger is entwined in this litany of first-world fault! Fierce competition and the hair-thin profit margins drove many of the fast-food giants to the third-world in search of cheaper beef. Beef supply can't be met with forests. Much of the present clearing is a result of beef demand. Cleared forests support grass to feed beef, to make cheaper hamburgers. Millions are sold ever day! Precious metals, petroleum, hardwoods, and beef are resources we demand.

Tripping on an exposed root, I tumble head first down the wet steep slope landing ignominiously astride a column of Fungus Garden Ants! Leaf-cutters to everyone but a biologist, these ants are too busy to deal with me. Gathering my feet beneath me, I am reminded of several aspects of jungle lore: first, unlike chewing gum, one cannot walk and bird-watch simultaneously, secondly, the clay base of latterite soils in moist tropical forests preclude root penetration. Even the canopy giants are held vertical by a spread of surface roots. Adventitious roots on many palms and a wide buttress on figs and others, help to support the 150-foot height of many. These roots were my undoing! The Fungus Gardeners, collect their ranks, restore their chemical trail, and continue onward, oblivious to my frustrations!

In the evening we fished the Cuyabano. Armed with a pole cut from the undergrowth, a six-foot monofilament leader, and a 2-0 hook baited with a sausage, we cast the river expectantly. Home to more than 10,000 species of fish, more than all of the Atlantic Ocean, the Amazon will surly lend forth an array of colorful, if not fighting quarry. Sometimes, curiosity can be trepidating. I inquired of our guide why the hook was bound to the monofilament by a two-inch length of wire? He replied that the fish often caught here will cut the monofilament, but none could sever the wire! Educated to accept that two plus two usually equals four, and victimized by Hollywood in my youth, Amazonian fish that cut things up could only mean one thing, Piranha! Where we swam to temper the tropical heat earlier that day, we now cast the waters for fish second only to sharks in their voracious appetites and capacity to frighten, so Hollywood would have us believe! On reflection, the day was clear, but cool. The sweat streaming from my pores was not thermo-responsive, but a complex physiological response often described as fright! Yes, they were there, they were vicious on both appearance and capacity, and they had in inordinate fondness for sausage!

A flock of Hoatzins distracted our fishing. Chicken-sized, these birds are dedicated herbivores. Feeding on leaves in prodigious amounts, their lengthy gut is partitioned, much like our ruminant cattle. Symbiotic bacteria aid in the breakdown of their cellulose diet, just like cattle. Their alarm call is reminiscent of the Greater Anis that greeted us here, low-pitched buzzing-humming, and one more oddity you just have to hear to recognize and understand! Although the tropical avifauna is not completely known, it appears that 60% of the world's birds are to be found here in the Amazon. As staggering as this seems, it is not nearly as intriguing as their display! Few of these lend themselves to cryptic coloration, camouflage in the jungle vegetation. The bright reds, greens, and yellows even seem mute to the iridescent reds, blues, and greens. Why so many day-glow colors? Fixing your binoculars on a ________ or a _________ will make even the most jaundice birder gasp in surprise.

Having studied the North American mammals, I expected some similarity. The White-tailed deer was a fitting example in this expectation. Ranging across North America east of the Rockies, this deer extends its range through Central and South America, down to Terra del Fuego. This is where the similarity stops! With names like Agouti, Capybara, and Coneyo, I expected local versions of familiar fauna! But, the Amazon yields forth a complex group of mammals that test and expand our evolutionary explanations. In the Cuyabano we observed six of the eight species of monkeys here. Unlike their old-world counterparts, they have pointed faces, with the nostrils opening laterally, prehensile tails, and a dental formula unique to them. Classic parallel evolution, distantly related, but responding to different evolutionary stimuli amongst a related group! The Amazon is home to the Dugong! Like our Florida Manatees, it is threatened throughout its range. Can you imagine my excitement upon seeing one, just it's broad back, as it rose adjacent to our boat! Two fresh-water dolphins are found here as well. Now, at the peak of the dry season (just wet instead of very wet), the Cuyabano is low and the dolphins have retreated to deeper waters downstream. Among the cats, the Jaguar is the largest, with several other species of cats sharing this habitat. Despite worldwide efforts to protect spotted cats, Jaguar hides are easily found in stores throughout Ecuador. I inquired as to their price, to get a feel for their rarity and value. They were so commonly available; I should not have been surprised by the price. A large prime Jaguar hide could be had for about $60, Ocelots, half that!

Shouts of excitement from other members of our expedition drew all to the outer edge of camp. Within 50 yards a Pigmy Monkey sat quietly on a broad limb. Soon, the collected eyes found a mate nearby, so small they could easily be mistaken for a tree rat. Our campsite was their residence and we viewed them throughout the day, for several days. Patience and quiet, a virtue here, my wife, Sally was rewarded by a Pigmy Monkey that descended, and studied her from within 10 feet. As our stay grew ever shorter, I was exhilarated by our discoveries, and saddened by the impending depredation of this forest. I added more than 90 species of birds to my life list, no small order to a 30-year birding veteran. Our plane is on approach to Mexico City, home to more than 12 million people, one of the ten largest cities on the world. Then to LAX, Los Angeles, boast 10 million people and ranks in the 10 most populace cities in the world! How can the Amazon survive?