Five-headed Birds and the Great Brazilian Baby Boom of 2011

July 17, 2010.

The cold weather hasn’t lifted.  It has been getting a little colder every day.  The original forecast was for the warm air to move back in tomorrow, but that has been postponed for another week!!!!   Usually these cold weather fronts last two or three days.  This has already gone on for 5 days and the last time they had a winter as cold as this was 35 years ago.  All the houses are set up for the heat with open verandas designed to catch the cool night breezes.  We are all now sitting on the verandas wearing 5 layers of clothes praying for warmth.  There is no heating in the house at all.  Not even little space heaters.  The only warm place is in bed.  This cold air is covering all of Brazil including Rio and all the beaches.  I predict a major baby boom in Brazil in April 2011.

Campo Grande airport has closed and no flights have landed there in the last two days.  There are reports that livestock in Matto Grosso do Sol is starting to be effected by the weather and that 700 cattle have perished from the cold.

Some weather experts are blaming the prolonged cold spell on la Nina ocean warming patterns.  For 10 years the Pantanal had been receiving less and less rain and the annual flood levels had been decreasing.  Last year there was record flooding.  There is a photo from the last flood season in the dining room of the lodge showing Ivone (the owner) sitting outside the front door of the house, knee deep in water with piranhas swimming around her feet.

Still, the guests had traveled a long way and spent a lot of money to get to the Pantanal so we soldier on with the usual round of activities.  I went on the boat trip upriver this evening and we came across what at first looked like a very strange, wide and long blackbird perched on a branch.  On closer inspection it appeared to have 5 heads and 10 feet.  The poor birds were lined up, crammed together, feathers fluffed, huddling along the branch to share body warmth.  Five headed birds - another symptom of climate change!!!!

I tried the cachasa method of warming up once we got back to the house and took a shot of the local rum. It had the strange effect of only heating the top of my head.  From the cheekbones up I was very toasty warm indeed, feeling red and almost like I was radiating heat from my temples.  The rest of me was still chilly though.

July 19, 2010.

I woke up to another cold morning.  The cold had lasted a week.  The air was so wet and frigid that it got into your bones.  The morning greeting had become a teeth chattering “Bom Dia” and then a good humored competition to see how many layers of clothes each person was wearing.  The record was eight layers of T-shirts, cardigans and sweaters covered over with light jackets (no-one has winter coats here).  Things were getting dire.  There is no clothes dryer at the farm because 360 days out of the year it is hot here and laundry dries on the line.  Any attempt at hanging laundry over the past week only resulted in it getting wetter.  So by this morning we were all chilled to the bone and perhaps a little stinky.

Emerging from my cabin near the pond early, I saw the first blue sky.  The actual tail end of the front was visible in a distinct line as the low clouds suddenly gave way to pale blue morning sky.  I sat warming my hands around my coffee cup and watched the blue slowly progress across the sky to where the sun was hiding.  Campo Grande airport had been closed for three days due to fog, so we only had three guests - an avid birdwatcher from England and a honeymooning Italian couple who had spent the first week of their married life shivering on the empty beaches of Rio.  We all sat there, waiting and watching the dividing line in the sky.

At last the blue sky reached the sun and it poured out from behind the clouds for the first time in a week.  I joined the guests as we all ran outside, blinking and dancing and in fits of madness opening our jackets to expose our seven layers of mismatched t-shirts to the rays of the sun.  The cowboys swaggered out to join us and the kitchen staff not far behind them as we all indulged ourselves in a merry sun dance.  The water of the pond splashed as the caimen dragged themselves out of their hiding places in the mud to warm their scales in the sunlight.  The birds emerged with a screech and a squawk in a sudden cacophony of birdsong and a flock of rosetta spoonbills swooped overhead defrosting their wings.  Man and beast lifted their faces to the sun, and in an instant, all was forgiven.

Becoming a Pantaneira

July 13, 2010.

This morning I braved the horses.  I’m not terribly fond of horses, but since this is technically a cattle farm with cowboys (known as pantaneiros in the Pantanal), it seemed the thing to do.

Thankfully they provided me with a nice, plodding horse that never even attempted to break into a trot.  For two hours we meandered through the landscape, switching from forest to savanah and back again.  The rain yesterday had heralded a cold front and it was very chilly indeed.  The mosquitoes and miscellaneous flying insects completely disappeared overnight.  The animals and birds were mostly huddled away from the cold and the ranch was silent but for the clopping of the horses hooves and the squeaking of the leather saddle as we sailed through the Pantanal on our humble steads.   There is a flowering plant that blooms in the dry season called acapeixe that the locals refer to as the scent of the Pantanal.  It is a sweet savory smell, something like a mixture of gardinia and thyme.

Inspired the horse riding in the morning, I took a ride into Miranda again with the shopping expedition.  Miranda is truly a cow-poke town.  It’s only reason for existing is to service the cattle farms nearby.  A new guide had arrived a couple of days ago and she is married to a cowboy in Campo Grande, so we sought out the local cowboy supply shop.  It had everything from boots and hats and chaps to snake bite anti-venom, machetes and spare parts for saddles.  I bought myself a pair of Brazilian cowboy boots and instantly developed the cowboy swagger.  It’s all in the boot!!!  It has a strange, rocking inset in the sole and the heel tends to come up at the back, so it more or less forces you to walk in a slow, deliberate way in order to keep them on your feet.  The rolling, slow, swaying gait of the pantaneros now makes sense.  I added a pair of Brazilian jeans, and now I’m feeling like a local.  Even the cowboys on the farm are now calling me “pantaneira”.

Too bad I don’t look like a local.  This is a very swarthy town.  And I’m rather blonde.  I was told that people around here don’t look like me, but I didn’t expect them to come out of shops to stare.  It’s a good thing I’m oblivious to such attention and it took someone else to point it out to me.  Oh well, now I have the proper cowboy swagger, the staring and pointing will surely stop.  Maybe I should keep a keen ear out for the mocking laughter to commence.

Maybe if I started drinking maté, that would help.  Maté is a form of tea that is very popular in South America.  In this part of Brazil, maté is drunk cold from a cows horn that has been flattened at one end to make a cup.  Really and truly, they sell these cow horns en-mass at the local supermarket.  Some are real horn, the cheaper ones are plastic.  In Southern Brazil it is drunk hot out of a gourd. 

July 16, 2010.

The cold snap continues.  It’s all over Brazil and while these cold fronts usually only last two or three days, this one is hanging around longer and colder than usual.  Because this part of the world is warm or hot 95% of the time, it’s not prepared for the cold weather.  The house is geared for heat.  The dining room only has a fly screen that can be covered by plastic shutters to keep out the rain.  All the rooms have air conditioning but no heating.  The guests didn’t come prepared for the cold, so there is a lot of shivering going on and praying for the cold front to move on.

The animals and birds are also hiding away trying to keep warm.  I feel bad for a European family that flew in just as the rain started and have been shivering and seeing no animals since they got here.  The cold front is predicted to move on the day they leave.  It must be an expensive proposition to fly the whole family out to Brazil, but there is no predicting this weather.  A week ago we were swimming and sweating and slapping on the SFP50 sunscreen.

So there isn’t a whole lot going on at the farm at the moment except eating, huddling around the tea pot and taking the occasional shot of cachaca to keep warm.  It’s probably a good point to talk about the food here at the farm.

There is always cake.  There is a Brazilian tradition of making and serving homemade cakes that seems to  have died out in the rest of the world.  There are usually two fresh baked caked in the breakfast buffet, cake for afternoon tea and picnics, basically cake any time of day or night.  The desserts are also rather amazing.  They make a rich dolce de leite which is almost the consistency of toffee and it is served with either glaze/sugared pumpkin or the local mild farmer’s cheese.  Since it’s been cold, dessert has been a hot bowl of hominy boiled in milk and spiced with cinnamon and lemon.  A bit like rice pudding but with hominy instead of rice.

Lunch is served outside, in a covered cabana overlooking the river.  They light a fire in the barbeque and put the pots on top to keep them warm.  Lunch is the big meaty meal of the day.  Huge chunks for “carne de sol”, pots of beef and manioc stew,  rice and beans, baked pumpkin - always something different and hearty (with salads for the healthy types amongst us).

Dinner is served on the screened-in veranda overlooking the pond full of birds and caimen.  There is always soup - lentil, chicken, pirhana.  Last night they brought out a huge fish (maybe 2 feet long) from the Paraguay River.  The night before it was a rich chicken stew - rather like the insides of a chicken pot pie.

Everything is fresh and local.  The eggs are from a local family down the road.  The vegetables come from a co-operative in Miranda.  I’m going to have to try very hard not to get fat while I’m here.  I want to try everything.  So far my sense of propriety has stopped me from sampling the cake for breakfast, but I’m not sure how long my resolve (or my slender figure) will last.

First Greetings from the Pantanal

Pantanal journal

July 1, 2010

I nearly tripped over a capybara walking back to my cabin by the pond last night.  Note:  a capybara is a small, furry mammal and is not to be confused with a caipirinha - the national drink of Brazil made with the local rum and mint leaves.  However, I’m sure a story involving tripping and caipirinhas isn’t too far in the future.  I will try and avoid getting involved in situations that involve tripping, caipirinhas and crocodiles although it does seem possible since I arrived in the Pantanal.

The fazenda is beautiful, rustic and peaceful.  The community consists of Jiro and Ivone (the owners), several native guides, kitchen and household staff.  My task is to teach everyone English, help host the English speaking guests and develop eco-tourism projects.  In return I am given a cabin across the pond from the guesthouse, three meals a day, and an amazing opportunity to be adopted into this little community in Western Brazil.

The first order of business is to find a way to communicate.  The folks here really want to learn English and really want to communicate with the strange blonde woman who just turned up on their doorstep.  They are all very hospitable, smart and eager.  It doesn’t hurt that since I already yearn to understand this community and this place, it’s a huge incentive for me to learn Portuguese in a hurry.  I’ve never wanted to learn a language so desperately.

The language learning process is not hindered by the Brazilian coffee.  This was one of the first big coffee growing countries in the world and they know what they are doing.  The coffee is almost the consistency and richness of hot chocolate and without a hint of bitterness.  It’s delicious and I’m already addicted (well, more than usual).

Yes, there are mosquitoes here.  While I was bitten quite a bit last night as we drove to watch and listen to the parrots nesting, strangely I am not bumpy of itchy today.  Since there is no malaria in this region and the mosquitoes don’t cause itchy bumps, then I guess I’ll stop worrying about them.

I’m told I shouldn’t worry about the caiman either (locally called jacare).  Caiman are small crocodiles and, even though I throw like a girl, I could probably stand casually at my back fence, throw rocks and hit five of them.

July 3, 2010.

Yesterday the guests took canoes down the river late in the afternoon as the sun was easing.  The farm sits on an island that is formed by one of many rivers that meander around the Pantanal.  It is dry season at the moment and the river is narrow and hemmed in by trees, vines, water lilies and endless vegetation.  The waterway twists and turns around hairpin bends and each turn reveals new multitudes of birds, fish visible in the clear water and caiman sunning themselves on the banks.

After an hour or so, the guests have to be found and towed back to the house upstream.  I went with Jose (a native guide) in the boat with an outboard motor to find them.  The sun was low, Jose was racing through the hairpin turns all the while pointing at wildlife and trying to explain it to me in Portuguese.  I thought clinging to the sides of the boat and begging him to slow down wouldn’t be a good look for an intrepid volunteer, so I steeled myself to stay calm.  I’m sure Jose knew what he was doing.

With the sunset comes the mosquitoes and every tiny flying creature known to mankind (and in this area of the world, probably some insects not yet known to mankind).  Racing full speed down the river I tried not to swallow too many bugs, but realized that I was soon going to look like a windscreen on a car and be combing undiscovered insect species out of my hair.

We quickly found the guests in their canoes happily splashing paddles into the water with the caiman and piranhas.  We hitched them to the back of the boat and towed them slightly less fast back to the house as the sun was setting.  Jose got out the spotlight and searched the banks for anything that moved.

Then back to the house for dinner.  The dining room is a screened in veranda at the back of the house overlooking one of the ponds.  It’s very peaceful to sit there, watch the birds in the trees, contemplate life over a cup of Brazilian coffee.

The food at here is amazing.  Even if there are very few guest, they always put on a big spread of salads, soup,  local meats and stews, manioc fries and such.  Everything is homemade from the breads and jams, cakes and pastries in the morning, to the rich, thick dulce de leche that comes with dessert.  We are on the edge of the cattle farming area and I’ve yet to find out exactly what they mean by “carne de sol” or “meat of the sun”.  Whatever it is, I’m hooked.  It might be tough not to gain weight while I’m here.

There were a couple of children amongst the guests last night, so the guide suggested spotlighting the pond for caiman.  The pond is literally on the back doorstep with a little wooden deck to sit and fish.  The whole group of us wandered down to the pond with the lantern and instantly caught sight of 3 caiman within 10 feet of us.  The guide starting tapping a stick on the banks of the pond and within 5 minutes 8 caiman were dragging themselves up on the bank to see what the fuss was about.  The longest was probably 2 meters, but there were some half that size in the bunch.  Because the waters have receded and all the wildlife is packed into the small remaining ponds, the caiman barely have to roll over to catch a fish.  They are all fat and slow and showed no interest in us even when we were four feet away and the kids were poking them with sticks.

July 8, 2010.

It seems I am being taught Brazilian Portuguese with a Matto Grosso do Sol accent.  I’ve been noticing that what I’m hearing in general speech around here is sometimes very different to what is in my reference books and my learn Brazilian computer program.   I’m going to leave here sounding like a country hick!!!

We have guests from all around Brazil coming to stay with us at the farm.  They all pronounce things differently.  Since I’m pretty basic on my Portuguese so far, I only notice obvious things like how they say their numbers.  One wrong vowel sound or rolled “r” and you go from “reading” to “being crippled”.  Some of the sounds are so different to English that I’m having trouble getting my mouth around it, but I’m also finding that trying to get locals to pronounce English words is very difficult for them.  But I’m learning fast because I have to in order to be understood.  Sometimes one of the guests will speak some English and will translate for me.  Other times I have to find the Portuguese word or phrase, so sit in silence.

I’m rapidly learning how to get by in a swamp.  We had a German guide here for a couple of days with a tour group and he turned up in camouflage clothes, scarf around the neck, knife in his belt, big boots with his trousers tucked into his socks. He looked a bit like one of those, strong, well equipped Germans who are always villains in action films and invariably are beaten by the scrappy American who is armed only with a shoelace and a safety pin.  I thought his get up was a bit over the top but soon realized that this guy really knew what he was doing.   Besides, he was so distraught when Germany got beaten out of the World Cup semi-finals, that I ended up liking the guy.

Anyway, I’ve been here a week and it is looking more and more likely that my luggage is never going to get here.  The big bag with all my clothes in it didn’t make it to Sao Paulo and hasn’t been heard of since.  Even though I’m three hours drive from the nearest airport, the airlines will actually deliver the bags to the farm.  I guess it’s cheaper than paying the insurance value.

So here I am in the swamp with a few clothes that ended up in my hand luggage when I came through New York.  It’s amazing how little mosquito protection New York summer dresses provide to the Brazilian swamp-dweller.  My lovely light weight city pants are no match for the mosquitoes here.  Nooooo, they bite right through the flimsy material.  My sturdy hiking boots are in my lost bag, and my “breathing, quick dry, mesh” gym shoes that I was wearing on the plane are also not thick enough to deter the little buggers.  I got up early this morning to watch the sun rise over the pond and it became a very aerobic and sometimes bloody swatting event while trying to enjoy the parrots singing in the trees above.

But I am learning and will slowly restocking my wardrobe with more suitable clothes when I get into town.  In the meantime, my mantra is “don’t scratch, don’t scratch, don’t scratch”.

July 8, 2010.

I tagged along on an excursion into the Pantanal last night looking for jaguars.  We were spotlight off the back of the pickup truck.  The local guide has been trying to educate me.  He speaks about as much English as I speak Portuguese, but somehow we manage to make ourselves understood.  Jose could tell what animal had been caught in the spotlight just be the color of the reflection in their eyes.  The crab eating fox eyes appear green in the spotlight.  The owl’s eyes appear red.

I also found out the process for making “carne do sol” when I went to take my washing off the clothesline yesterday.  Huge chunks of beef were covered with salt and drying in the sun next to my clothes.  Now I’m not sure whether they are saying “carne do sol” (mean of the sun) or “carne do sal” (salted meat).  All the vowels in Portuguese make a huge difference to the meaning of words.   I’m probably sounding like the English equivalent Manuel from Fawlty Towers at this point.

My list of things that go bump in the night is growing my the minute - crocodiles, piranhas, leeches, vampire bats, jaguars, anacondas are all on the farm.  But don’t worry.  I have a refrigerator outside my apartment by the swamp.  So my chocolate stash is safe from predators.  As for my own safety, well, the locals don’t seem too perturbed by the wildlife, so why should I.  After all, I grew up in Australia where everything that creeps or crawls or swims could kill you and no-one there worries about it.

I woke up this morning and half asleep wondered how strange it was that someone was playing video games outside my window.  I’m across the pond from the main farm house and the nearest building is100 meters away.  It sounded like video game lasers firing and fake engines roaring.  It took me a few seconds to realize it was the early morning bird calls the likes of which I would never imagine could come from our feathered friends.

A rogue capybara has taken up residence on my doorstep.  The rest of the group that hangs around the pond stick together in a family group.  It’s a big fellow and probably an unwanted male.  Very placid.  About the size of a small pig, but furry and slow moving.  It’s actually part of the rodent family, so really an enormous rat, but much more cuddly.  I think I’ll have to give him a name.  Maybe Hairy George.

July 11, 2010.

The son of the owner has been at the farm for the last few days giving guided tours to a group of English speaking guests.  So I’m suddenly learning a lot about birds and wildlife without having to half-guess.  He took us on a 3 hour boat trip downriver.  I wonder if there is such a thing as “wildlife induced Attention Deficit Disorder”.  There were creatures everywhere!  No sooner had we spotted a gloriously colored kingfisher, than a huge heron would swoop into the water right in front of us.  Just as we were oohing and ahhing over the heron, we’d notice three caiman gaping on the banks and sliding into the water followed rapidly by a stork cruising overhead.  I think I experienced wildlife whiplash and wore out my pointing finger!

The river is low, so in some parts the water plants almost touch across the water.  The forest and vines encroach on both sides and sometimes give way to large expanses of water grasses that have taken root where lagoons have dried up for the season.

We spotted a huge troop of capuchin monkeys near the house yesterday and another large group swinging through the trees upriver.  When two troops meet there is usually a great big monkey fight that sounds like 100 cats fighting in an alley.  We will probably be able to hear it from the house.

I’m starting to help with the guiding and today one of the guides and I took a guest on a bird walk along the levees.  There had been talk of a stork nest off one of the tracks, so we followed the guide through the dense fern and palm forest as he hacked a path with a machete.  I couldn’t help get a kick out of it.  I felt like I had landed in a “Lost World” movie.  It didn’t hurt that we found an anaconda skeleton along the path.

There really is wildlife everywhere here.  Lunch is served at the bend in the river in front of the house that is used by the guests for swimming.  Yesterday a very curious giant otter kept popping his head out of the water watching us have lunch.

I helped with the spotlight on the night safari yesterday.  We didn’t see much, but we saw plenty stop-light red eyes from caiman.  Coming back to the house, I threw the spotlight on the pond near the house and it lit up like a Christmas tree.  This is why I’ve given up alcohol for the duration of my stay here.  I have to walk around the pond to get to my cabin.  Although it would be a fine family tale to tell about how great aunt Diana died when she drank too many capirinhas, took a wrong turn in the middle of the night and fell into a crocodile and piranha infested swamp in Brazil.  Since no-one would believe it, I might as well save myself for a while longer.

July 11, 2010 - written just before dinner

I just got back from a boat trip downriver with Leo and 4 tourists from Paris.  It was one of those magic trips where all the strange, rare events come together.  We were less than a mile downstream when we came across an anaconda sunning on some fallen vegetation on the river bank.  Seeing anacondas around here is fairly rare, but this one was huge - probably 6 meters long and the width of my thigh.  One of the Parisian women jumped up and started pacing nervously around the boat as if risking tipping over the boat was somehow going to help if the snake suddenly thought she looked tasty for dinner.  I guess some people are just weird around snakes.   The anaconda showed no interest in us, didn’t move for the 10 minutes we gawping at it and taking photos and wouldn’t go for prey as large as us anyway.  It was a truly magnificent snake.

We had not gone another mile when we spotted a band of capuchin monkeys crossing the river by jumping between trees that almost touched at a narrow part of the river.  They were fearless little fellows.  However, we did hear the big monkey fight at a distance around lunchtime today, so maybe these monkey folks were fleeing.

The further you get down river, the larger the trees.  Soon the boat ride was taking on a “Heart of Darkness” feeling, but without the slaughtered natives littering the riverbank.  We wandered into the giant otters territory where we cut the motor and let the boat drift through the otter family as they all barked at us and swam after the boat.  A BBC documentary on giant otters was filmed here on the farm and this was the family featured.

The plan was to spotlight the banks of the river on the way back to see the nocturnal creatures.  We had barely turned back and were still nearly an hour away from the farmhouse when the spotlight battery died.  The rest of the trip Leo sped to try and catch as much light as he could and then guided us back through the narrows and hairpin turns (and past the anaconda) with just a flashlight.  It was dark.  We had to trust that Leo knew what he was doing, and then there came a huge thud and a smacking noise as a piranha jumped into the boat in the dark.  Of course mayhem ensued until one of the braver tourists caught it by the tail (not the sharp toothy end) and threw it overboard.

Wild times in the Pantanal!  Now it’s time for dinner which requires no effort from me except rolling up to the buffet table.

June 12, 2010.

This morning I got to take it easy, read and catch up on my Portuguese lessons which I have neglected atrociously since there has been English speaking people to talk to and translate for the past three days.

There was rain moving in this afternoon.  The air hung with humidity as I took the opportunity to hop in the car with Jiro for a shopping trip into town.  Miranda is a working agricultural town with a slight nod towards Pantanal tourism.  But really there is nothing much to see or do unless you have come into town from a local farm to do your shopping.  It’s sleepy but perfectly friendly.

I tried on a pair of locally made leather working boots at the supermercardo.  They looked wonderfully authentic, but they sure weren’t made for comfort.

We did the rounds of the local mechanical and agricultural shops and had stopped at one to fix a motor when the rains came down.   It had been weeks since the last rain and the smell of wet earth and decaying vegetation rose into the air.  We drove home through the last of the storm.  I guess Jiro felt bad for having left me sitting in the truck for so long so he bought me a strawberry ice-cream and listened to Brazilian country music as we bounced along with rough road home in the old farm truck.

The Pantanal is to the Americas what the Serengeti is to Africa

"The aquatic heart of South America showcases some of the most breathtaking gatherings of mammals, birds and reptiles that you could ever hope to see.  The numbers in the world's largest wetland can challenge credulity with the smallest of lakes often so crowded with fur, feathers and scale that you will be pushed to spot an uninhabited square meter of water.  The Pantanal, in short, is a wildlife-watchers paradise."

Well, that's about all I know about the Pantanal today.  Straight from the guidebook.  I'm heading to Brazil next week to volunteer for three months at a small, family run eco-lodge near Campo Grande.  As an added bonus, Brazil could win the World Cup while I'm there.

Things I need to learn in a hurry:
1.  Portuguese
2.  The rules of soccor
3.  The difference between an anteater and a tamandua
4.  How to make piranha soup

Wish me luck!!!!