Umberto Pacaya

Umberto Pacaya worked as my field assistant for three years in the Peruvian Amazon.  A resident of Jenaro Herrera, Umberto was a knowledgeable matero and a wonderful person.  I very much enjoyed working with him.  Couple of stories.  When I first started working in the flooded forests of the Ucayali River, I would occasionally use insect repellent to try to stop the onslaught of biting mosquitos. I offered some to Humberto one day, and he rubbed a little bit on the back of his neck.  The next day I asked him if he wanted some more and he politely refused saying that he was never going to use that stuff again. Seems he got in trouble with his wife when he came home from the field smelling of perfume...

I set up a study to measure fruit production by Myrciaria dubia (see Camu-Camu) in a local ox-bow lake. We had flagged all of the sample plants, and were gradually moving the flags up as the water level rose so we could see which plants we needed to harvest.  I was abruptly called back to Iquitos and left Umberto in charge of the study.  The next day, it started raining like crazy and our plants began to get flooded.  Umberto went out in a boat in the pouring rain, cut a bunch of poles, and propped up all of the sample plants to keep their fruits out of the water until I got back.  The final results from the fruit production study are here (thx, Umberto). [NOTE: Umberto is holding a sapling of Grias peruviana, another study species from the flooded forest].

Hope. Change.

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Tanai

Tanai is the last big town before entering the 630,000 hectare Hukaung Valley Wildlife Sanctuary.  Sort of a "frontier" kind of place, but quite beautiful in the late afternoon as the sun goes down over the Tanai River (thx, Tun Shaung).

Sitting in Threnody

In the early 1970s, abstract painter Cleve Gray created a series of 14 large panels entitled "Threnody" as a lamentation on the Vietnam War.  The work was commissioned by the Neuberger Museum of Purchase, New York. In July of 2008, Threnody was re-installed in the Neuberger Museum and three meditation workshops were offered to accompany the exhibit.  Truly a powerful space to sit in. [NOTE: Threnody, from the Greek threnoidia, is a song or hymn of mourning.]

Damar

Damar is the local name for the resin produced by several genera (e.g. Dipterocarpus, Shorea) of Dipterocarp trees in Southeast Asia.  The dried resin (shown above) is a valuable source of varnish and caulking, and it is exploited commercially by numerous communities in Borneo and the Malay Peninsula.

Damar is tapped by climbing the tree and cutting small pyramidal holes or "boxes" (indicated by the white circle above) at various heights along the trunk.  In response to wounding, the tree starts to exude resin which collects in the bottom of the boxes.  The damar is scraped out with a parang.  The flow of damar usually stops after a couple of days because the resin ducts have become clogged with dried resin. To start the flow again, the old resin is melted away by building a small fire in each box.  This method of tapping, not surprisingly, is known as "boxing and firing". [NOTE: The collector is about 10 - 12 m up the tree on a wobbly, disposable ladder made from bamboo].

Size Matters

Big trees tend to slow down inventory operations.  Everyone stops and takes a moment to appreciate a really large individual, and it can take a bit longer to adjust the d-tape around the trunk. Seems like you find more big trees early in the morning.  Those you encounter late in the day - when everyone is tired - are invariably "out of the plot". Funny how that happens. [NOTES: The impressive tree in the video is Caryocar villosum, or piquía. Antonio Jose announces that the tree has a circumference of 758.2 cm, i.e. a diameter of almost 2.5 m.

Elias Drops a White Pine

Camp Deerpark is a summer camp/retreat center in the Catskills operated by the Mennonite Church.  For about 10 years now, I have been collaborating with the camp to develop a management plan for their forest.  Much of the success of this forestry work is due to the efforts of Elias Ebert, the local logger who fells the trees, skids them out of the forest, and finds the best buyers for the logs.  Elias is quite gifted with a chainsaw. After the pine starts to go down, he quickly puts down his saw and gets out of the way.  Seconds later, a large branch falls right on the spot where he was standing. [NOTE:  The man indicating where the tree is going to land at the beginning of the clip is Ken Bontrager, the director of Camp Deerpark].

Danau Sentarum

Danau Sentarum National Park (DSNP), Kapuas Hulu, West Kalimantan, Indonesia. The park is a series of interconnected seasonal lakes in the floodplain of the upper Kapuas River.

The village of Pulau Majang in DSNP.  All of the pilings, boardwalks, railings, and stairs are made from Fragraea fragrans (Loganiaceae). [NOTE: Both images have been scanned from slides.]

Danau Sentarum is the largest inland lake on the island of Borneo. The lake supports a large traditional fishing industry and is home to 39 fishing villages.  During the flooding season, water levels can rise to within inches of the boardwalks and floors of the houses, completely surrounding the community and making it look like the entire village is floating on the lake.

I spent a pleasant evening in Pulau Majang during the floodpeak of 1993 and was impressed by the skill with which everyone navigated the narrow wooden boardwalks in the dark. One wrong step and you end up in the lake.  I was a bit concerned about all of the little kids scurrying around. In response to my question about whether any children had ever fallen off, I was told, "Oh, yeah. They all do. But you pull them out and they never do it again." A key lesson, I guess, if you are living over a 30,000 hectare lake.  Click here for more information about what I was working on at DSNP.

The Scent of a Tree

The smell of the inner bark is one of the most important diagnostic characters for identifying trees in tropical forests where flowers and fruits may be small, of drab color, and high up in the canopy.  Materos all over the world use this trick.  Approach the tree, glance up at the canopy to check for flowers or fruits, slash the bark, and give it a whiff - or occasionally a taste.  All with such wonderful insouciance.

The Curious Case of Brosimum alicastrum

Brosimum alicastrum trees growing on the ruins of Coba in Quintana Roo.

Brosimum alicastrum trees growing in the home garden of a present-day Mayan family in Quintana Roo.

Fruiting branch of Brosimum alicastrum.  A red-fruited variety of the species is also common.

Many Mayan ruin complexes were discovered by chicleros looking for forage to feed their mules after a hard day of tapping latex. The preferred forage was the leaves and twigs of Brosimum alicastrum Sw. (Moraceae), a common rain forest tree known  locally as "ramon" (from the Spanish verb ramonear, i.e. to browse).  The chicleros would encounter a dense stand of ramon, start cutting the branches, and eventually notice that the trees were growing on the finely-worked stones and carvings of a Mayan temple.

The relationship between Brosimum alicastrum and Mayan ruins becomes even more interesting given the utility of the tree.  The leaves are used for forage, the fruits and seeds are edible, the milky white latex is potable, and the wood is durable, yet easily-worked.  The dried, ground seeds contain more protein than corn.  Ramon seeds are currently eaten as survival food by rural communities in Quintana Roo, and there is much archaeological literature that suggests that the seeds were a dietary staple for the Maya in pre-Columbian times. The logical conclusion drawn by many investigators is that the dense aggregations of Brosimum alicastrum found near ruins are, in essence, relict Mayan orchards. 

I spent five years studing the ecology of Brosimum alicastrum for my doctoral dissertation.  I have a different theory of why these trees grow on Mayan ruins. [NOTE: The fruits shown in the Wikipedia link are not Brosimum alicastrum. Not even close.]