The 2023 Brazil Journals, Chapter Sixteen

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Chapter Sixteen

Roommates, Wanted or Not

 

Everyone has this universal understanding about roommate drama.

—Leighton Meeser

 

 

There is great purpose in Shelly’s stride as she approaches us and announces, “I HAD A FROG IN MY BATHROOM!!!”

“I flushed it and I’m not sorry,” she proclaims.   When asked why she didn’t leave it alone, she says she didn’t want frog poop all over her stuff.  Besides, she adds, they live in the water pipes and it will probably be back.

"And I'll flush it again!"

We tease Shelly for a while about flushing her roommate  and when the hubbub and laughter die down and I have a chance to think, I wonder about three things:

 

1.    What does frog poop look like?

2.    Do they really live in the plumbing pipes?

3.   Was that really a big moth I saw on the edge of the sink counter when I went into my bathroom without my glasses on?   It blended into the counter design so well.

 

 

We all have single rooms on this trip so we don’t have human roommates.  When I go back to my room, I inspect the bathroom carefully and sure enough, there’s a small frog on the wall.

A really lousy photo of a two-inch long frog in my bathroom.

On another day I run to get my cell phone to take a photo of a frog.  It  beats me to the door and escapes into the bedroom, never to be seen again.

A Pampas deer fawn.

Pampas deer fawn and daddy.

 

I watch over the next couple days and it appears in different places—near the ceiling, on the floor, and inside the toilet bowl.   I discover that they like hanging out under the inside rim of the toilet.   

Southern Lapwing

After one experience of a frog jumping out of the bowl, I make a solemn promise to always stand up before flushing.

I don’t care if the frogs are there and I certainly don’t want to hurt them.   They are probably catching insects and I will leave them to it.

Meanwhile, twice a day, we are off by land and river to see what we can see:

A bunch of hyacinth macaws hanging out around a water tank in the evening light.

Hyacinth are the largest macaws in the world.   They can crack Brazil nuts and macadamia nuts.

Soft landing in soft sand.

What a cast of characters

These two almost escape the frame as I'm shooting them.

Stealth macaw

Burrowing owl.

Whoo-hoo!   In flight!

Southern screamer.   That's its real name.

The Jabiru stork is the largest stork in the Americas, standing four to five feet tall with a wingspan to 12 feet.   Its name in the Tupi-Guarani language means "swollen neck."   That is because of the large red sac at the base of its neck, which serves multiple purposes. 

When the sac is pink, the bird is relaxed.   When red, the stork is excited or angry.

It also assists the stork in feeding by filtering water from the food it ingests.  Adults carry food back to the nest in that neck sac.

Jabiru stork

Jabiru stork

The 2023 Brazil Journals, Chapter Fifteen

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Chapter Fifteen

The Lost Notes

 

 

We live in a world where losing your phone is more dramatic

than losing your virginity.—Rami

 

 

 

 

After all the lost time because of the outboard that wouldn’t start, and waiting for the substitute boat, I hate to be the cause of more delay, but I can’t find my cell phone even after searching through my pockets, camera bag, and on the bottom of the boat.

 

So, I say something.   The last time I remember having it was just before we switched boats.  Octavio turns the boat and we head to that point.   I feel awful about causing my friends more lost time on this nice river.

 

We search the river bank, without success.   Suddenly, Virginia cries out that Octavio spotted my phone when I stood up to get out of the boat.

It had slipped off the vest and was hiding in that small space beneath the seat and the crossbar.

Virginia likes to take videos and when I found this video on my phone, I thought it was hilarious that the phone started recording as soon as she picked it up, though she hadn't intentionally started it.

 

 

While I am glad to have it back, I am devastated that I have caused my friends to lose even more time on the river.    No, it wasn't intentional but I feel guilty anyway.

 

Octavio says this Maguari stork is seldom seen in this area and is probably migrating.

I can laugh at my dumb mistakes when they affect only me.   I love to laugh at myself and use those instances to write stories that poke fun at myself.

 

But to inconvenience or ruin things for others?   It plunges me into a funk that lasts the rest of the day and still lingers.  I apologize to all and just stay quiet after that.   

 

I’m usually a quiet person so I hope my friends don’t notice.

We were heading back to the lodge one evening when this peccary ran across the trail in front of our vehicle.   As we waited, another and another and another came out of the forest, though one at a time.

I think we waited until 16 of them came out, then found a pause and headed home to the lodge.

 

Virginia tells me not to worry about it, that she would be in a frenzy if she lost her phone.

 

That night I lie in bed awake, thinking—and not for the first time—whether my age is negatively affecting my friends’ enjoyment of the trips we take.  They are always there to assist me in matters large and small, always seem to be keeping an eye on me and I appreciate that while at the same time I rue that I need assistance.

 

Perhaps it’s time, I think, to put away my passport for good.

Mule tail grass head highlighted by the setting sun.

Sunset with a field of mule tail grass  in front of the trees.

A short photo story of the bare-faced curassow family:

A drama along the Rio Negro:   This family of bare-faced curassow were walking along the river.

 

One of the chicks found something in the grass and picked it up.

It carried it for a while.

Dad came to see what it had.

The two chicks got into a tug-of-war.

Mom checked and, like moms everywhere, took it out of her baby's mouth.

Then she relented and let the chick have it.

 

I think it swallowed whatever it was.

Black skimmers in flight.

Black skimmers

Butterfly

Caiman

Capybara and cow bird.

Unknown insect.

The lighter-colored objects are proboscis bats.   I had a hard time seeing them as I was expecting something much larger.  Note how some of them are lined up in a row, a common behavior.   They average two inches in length and are all disguised against tree bark.

Large-billed tern.

White-winged swallow.

The 2023 Brazil Journals, Chapter Fourteen

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Chapter Fourteen

Adventures of the Last Luddite*

 

 

 

When something goes wrong in your life,

just yell ’plot twist’ and move on.

—Author unkown.

 

 

The girls continue to drag me into 21^st century tech whether I want to go there or not.  Now they have me making my notes on my cell phone instead of the little notebooks I’ve always used.

 

This might be a good thing, I think.   Writing notes while in a moving vehicle or boat results in lousy handwriting and indecipherable notes.  Dictating into a phone might be a whole lot better.

 

Vermillion flycatcher

So, I try it.  I select Notes, tap the microphone icon, and dictate.   This is what happens over the first few days, with translations in bold face:

 

         Cuckoo juice (no idea)

         Dads Carson (no idea)

         Magus I stork (maguari stork)

Roof is still jackhammer roof is still jackhammer roof is still jackhammer.  (rufous-tailed jacamar)

         Hi Jason f**k Karen entr injury (?)

         Took a good time took a good time (toucan)

         

For the first time I used a piece of the reindeer I brought on the strip, but I used the rain jacket for the camera and lens to keep the pencil off and keep overheating. (about using a camera raincoat to keep the sun off the camera and lens)

 

And so on.   Once it got used to my voice, things improved.   And then came the day when it all went to heck.

 

Crab-eating fox.   Photo taken at night under artificial light.  Crab-eating foxes really do search for and eat crabs during the flood seasons.   They are not related to  foxes.

 

We’re on our first boat drive on the Rio Negro at Fazenda Barranco Alto lodge.  Virginia and I are in one small boat with Octavio as the driver.   Or rather, he would be the driver if the outboard would start.

First boat ride on the Rio Negro, early morning.

 

He yanks the recoil starter cord again and again and finally it sputters and starts.

We back off the shore, Octavio turns the rudder, and we follow the other boat with Shelly and Laura.  They have a fair head start and that remains so for the whole of our upstream voyage.

Shelly and Laura in Fernando's boat.

 

I have my cell and am dictating notes as necessary.

 

This is a pleasant river to float with lots of bird life.  It is quite isolated and almost impossible for others to reach it, so we have the river to ourselves.  We stop to photograph the birds but every time Octavio kills the outboard so we can get a shot without the vibration of the outboard,  he has to fuss with the outboard.   

This becomes such a drag and we lose so much time.   eventually, it refuses to start at all.  They call for another boat to replace ours.

I notice that when it does start, it seems to consume what little gasoline is primed by pulling the cord and figure that it isn't getting a regular supply of gas.   This proves to be true when the mechanic finds a dirt fuel filter.

Rufous-tailed jacamar, or the infamous "roof is still jackhammer" if you were paying attention to my notes on the cell phone.

Ringed Kingfisher

Green Kingfisher

Ringed Kingfisher, female

Ringed Kingfisher, male

 

In the meantime, Shelly's and Laura’s boat goes around a corner and in the  far distance they see a jaguar swim across the river and exit onto the shore.   They are so far away from it that there are no photos, but Shelly and Laura thereby lose the refund Octavio promised us if we didn’t see any jaguars!   Virginia and I are still in the running.

 

The substitute boat arrives and the bow of our boat is dragged onto the shore so we can exit safely and not fall into the piranha and caiman-infested water.

Octavio now has a boat with an outboard that starts.   He is happy.  Note that he is wearing a neck gaiter like the ones he gave us, the ones we aren't wearing--yet.   It is still hot!

 

The seats in this boat are different.   They are loosely attached  with a bracket that has a lip that fits over the front edge on a wide crossbar.  That bracket holds the seat frame an inch or so above the crossbar.

 

So, off we go upstream.   

Cocoi heron.   They resemble the African gray heron but have slightly different markings.

Pied Lapwing

Black skimmer with fish.   Note how the upper bill is shorter than the lower.

Skimmers feed by skimming low over the water and scooping up fish.

Still hasn't decided what to do with the fish.

 

We stop to photograph a bird and when I reach for my phone to record its name, I can’t find it.  It should be lying on my vest that is draped on the crossbar beside me.  I search my pockets several times and my camera bag also.   I take everything out, unzip all the pockets.   Look on the floor of the boat.

No luck.

 

I’ve lost my cell.   

 

Before I say anything, I consider what important data I won’t have if I don’t find it.   Surprisingly, it’s all the notes I’ve been making the last few days that I will miss the most.  

Not my airline reservations, hotel reservations, etc.   I have paper backups for those.

 

But my dictated notes!   So much for being a Luddite.

 

Virginia on the Rio Negro.

 

Parakeets build their nests under the nests of larger birds.

Two nests in this tree--one high on the right and one lower on the left.

Hyacinth macaw, the largest parrot in the world, in flight.   I learned something from this photo.   I knew it was going to fly so I had my lens on it.   I sure didn't expect it to plummet so close to the ground, though.

Hyacinth macaw looking into its nest.

Vermillion flycatcher.

 

 

 

 *Luddite:  A person opposed to new technology or ways of working.  

With me, it's just the cell.  I don't want to have to rely on it all the time.