The Yasuni Trap Camera is a Sharing Iniciative, it brings you video clips of amazing wildlife, who had having living freely in the forest of the Yasuni Biosphere Reserve for millions of years.
The Development proposed by our lifestyle is defenitely affecting the peacefull lifes of these forest creatures. They have the right to live in peace in their home.
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Yasuni Universitario es una Iniciativa Educativa de Shiripuno Lodge para todos los estudiantes universitarios que deban hacer su gira establecida dentro de la malla curricular; y tiene como objetivo dar a conocer uno de los mejores tesoros del pais: La mundialmente reconocida Reserva de Biosfera Yasuni; por su alto indice de biodiversidad y culturas.
Esta Inicitiva esta dedica a las diferentes Escuelas de Turismo, Ecoturismo y Biologia de las diferentes Universidades e Institutos del pais. Pasa la voz… Creemos que los futuros profesionales del turismo y la conservacion deben conocer el Yasuni en todas las dimensiones posibles:
En nuestros itinerarios de 3 o 4 dias; se impartiran datos sobre la diversidad biologica, las dinamicas del bosque como sistema generico de vida, su estado de conservacion y los desafios para los pueblos de indigenas y colonos que dentro y fuera de la Reserva.
Actividades:
Caminatas Interpretativas
Caminatas Nocturnas
Charlas in-situ
Descenso en Canoa
Natacion
Introduccion a la Observacion de Aves
Introduccion a los Reptiles y Anfibios
Introduccion al Pueblo Waorani
La Conservacion de nuestros Recursos Naturales, debe ser una Prioridad Nacional; es decir mientras mas area conservemos mejor van a ser las probabilidades de hacer negocios en un futuro cercano.
The Yasuni Biosphere Reserve sits at the intersection of the Andes, the Equator, and the western Amazon region, an ecological bull’s-eye where extremely rich communities of plants, amphibians, birds, and mammals in South America converge. A single hectare of Yasuni forest contains 100,000 insect species, more varieties than recorded anywhere else.
Within a 2-square-mile area, researchers have identified 200 species of mammals, including 10 of primates, 100 of bats and big cats like jaguars and pumas. Scientists have determined that on average 655 tree species spring from every hectare of the Yasuní, more than are native to the continental United States and Canada combined. And our birding destination: Shiripuno Lodge is located right in the middle of all this biological richness. Visitors are limited to only 500 people per year to insure that the area is maintained in pristine condition. Shiripuno Lodge is not your typical tourist destination; the forest there is the real deal.
Each year about 12.000 to 15.000 tourists begin their trip to the jungle by flying into Coca airport. Most of these tourists are destined for the high-volume lodges, which have been built along the majestic Napo River. We also begin our trips in Coca, but after that, all similarity with other tours ends. From Coca, we head south into the heart of the Waorani territories, leaving the degraded forests of the Napo behind. Once we leave town, we won’t be returning until the end of the trip. If we forget something, we’ll just have to live without it.
We drive south on Auca Road for about 120 km until we reach the Shiripuno River. The road was originally built for oil extraction, but settlers soon followed to take advantage of the easy access it provided to new land. Farms and ranches now line both sides of the road, with a couple of small boom towns thrown in for good measure–all of very recent origin. Given the limitations of the soil, it isn’t surprising that local agriculture fairs poorly, which makes the panorama of activity here is very dynamic. Auca Road is a microcosm of what is happening to the Amazon wilderness on a wider scale. First, a road built by the government or large corporation, and then people quickly use the new road to raze the forest and extract natural resources at a furious pace. The signs of destruction end at the banks of the Shiripuno River.
The forest downstream is largely unexplored. This is because the land is owned by the Waorani who have not always welcomed the outside world. For most of human history, very few people were allowed entry into this part of the Amazon. As a consequence, the range maps in The Birds of Ecuador show many question marks as to which birds are to be found in our area. Each year we learn new things about the birds to our forest.
Travel on the Shiripuno is by motorized canoe. piloted by skillful Waorani boatmen. This is the start of our adventure into the last pristine forest left in Ecuador. While the wildlife that we might see on any given trip is uncertain, there are a few things about each trip that we know for absolute certainty. Gone are the concrete of cities and roads; gone are the noise of radios and TVs; and gone are the distractions of cell phones and the internet. Here you are unreachable and completely off the grid. Normally we kept under the spell of human society, but the Yasuni brings a different reality. In the forest, we feel like a tiny grain of humanity in the midst of a mind boggling profusion of other species. The Amazonian Wilderness overpowers us, making us feel insignificant in the face of its dark depths and mysterious creatures.
Under normal conditions, the boat trip to the lodge takes about 4 hours. The Shiripuno is small river, generally no more than 50 meters wide. It makes its way through the surrounding hills in an intense series of hairpin turns, doubling back on itself over and over again, from one turn to the next barely making slow progress toward its ultimate journey, the Atlantic Ocean. The birding begins to pick up as the sun gets a little lower on the horizon. Flocks of Casqued Oropendolas rush in and out of the forest; they are nesting this time of the year. A White-throated Toucan perches in the dead branches of the canopy; a Magpie Tanager crosses in the front of the canoe. We find out the canoe driver doesn’t stop for all species, and so try to identify birds with the canoe in motion. Later we understand why the driver doesn’t stop: because he is aware that its better to arrive at the lodge while its still light.
Peaceable canoe ride, and as the sun begins to fade behind the Andes, the clouds start exchanging their stark whites for golden yellows, blood purples, neon reds, and electric oranges. The last rays of the sun light up the forest and passing flocks of Macaws.
Items you must have in your day backpack when you travel on the river:
• Reusable Water Bottle, Minimizing the containers we bring in, minimizes the trash we have to take out.
• Sun Protection. The higher the SPF the better.
• Hat. Protect yourself against the sun and rain.
• Quick Drying Clothing. Avoid sunburn. Wear long pants and long-sleeved shirts.
• Sun Glasses. Equatorial sunlight is intense.
• Wind breaker. A moving canoe can be quite chilly at times.
• Rain gear or poncho, Remember that the canoe is not covered and that it can rain at anytime.
• Sandals or light shoes, Hiking boots can become really hot or hard to dry. Bring something that you can not only get muddy but that will also dry quickly.
We made it to our destination. The Shiripuno Lodge is a place to rest, to recover your energy, to focus your thoughts, and, of course, to swing in the hammocks! Its purpose is to free us from the necessities of life so that we can direct maximum attention on the forest, exploring the lodge’s 30 km of trails in search of birds.
A few of our special birds include: Nocturnal Curassow, Salvin’s Curassow, Wing-banded Antbird, Rufous Potoo, Collared Puffbird, Fiery Topaz, Yasuni Antwren, Black Bushbird, and Black-banded Owl. On most nights, the mythological Nocturnal Curassow can be heard from the cabins; the record so far is seven. But sometimes its not enough to just hear these strange birds calling in the night, sometimes we have to go out and find them. We listen carefully and make our decisions where to move. Slowly we make our way closer and closer to the calling bird. The unmistakable call of this creature has lend us to the base of large tree. Nocturnal Curassow likes to sit on bare, exposed-horizontal branches near the very top of the tree. Clear nights seem to work best. So now we have to find it; all flashlights are on and directed overhead! Everyone is craning their necks skyward and playing their flashlights back and forth, searching the highest limbs. And there it is, and everyone gathered around for a good long look. Perfect night.
Shiripuno Lodge isn’t blessed with an observation tower, but we have adjusted for this by using our topography to the same advantage. The trails of the Shiripuno lead us to the canopy in a different way. Some of our trails are cut along the ridge lines of hill with a fairly large elevational gradient. So, what we did was cut observation windows so that birders could look out over the canopy at various points along the trail. In this way, its possible to see species of birds which specialize at different elevations within the canopy. Another way we explore the canopy is to drift downstream in a canoe early in the morning. In this way, its easy to see Blue and Yellow Macaws, Scarlet Macaws, Black-banded Woodcreeper, Spangled Cotinga, and Fiery Topaz.
But our goal today is to find, the Salvin’s Curassow calling in the distance. We hear it, but can we find it in this amazing forest? We land the canoe and walk into the forest. There is no trail here. We concentrate on the source of the sound and soon find ourselves in a dense, dark area of the forest. There it is whistling again, and we adjust our position and search the trees until we spot it only 10 meters away. It is fanning it tail up and down, and we see the snow-white vent and its bright-orange bill. When we find a species like this, we are reminded why they are hunted by native people: they are a huge meal! One bird and the entire family can have a nice feast. Guans and Curassows are very sensitive to human disturbance and habitat loss; they only live where the hunting pressure is low and the forest is pristine.
We are privileged to be birding in the last Wilderness of the Ecuadorian Amazon. As a bird watcher, we can live without basic comforts for few days, In fact, the less amenities we bring with us, the less of an impact that we will have on the forest. Its time that we started taking better care of our precious wild lands. It’s time for us to put the forest first.
The privileged location of the Yasuni between: the Andes, the Western Amazon Basin and the Equator make the Ecuador’s most interesting wilderness for Mankind: the Yasuni Biosphere Reserve; home of the extraordinary biodiversity and a recently contacted Amazonian indigenous group known as the Huaorani; relatives of the Waoranis, the Tagaeri and Taromenane, still live in voluntary isolation deep in the reserve.
The Yasuní Biosphere Reserve also sits atop large reserves of crude oil, Ecuador’s chief export, and contains an abundance of valuable timber species. This volatile combination has led to intense conflicts, and subsequently, increased international interest and concern.
In 1989, the area in and around the original limits of Yasuni National Park was designated as a Man and the Biosphere Reserve by UNESCO (United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization). The Yasuni Biosphere Reserve. Now covers 16 820 km2, including a 5000 km2 core area. According to UNESCO documents, this core area is centered on the Yasuni and Nushiño Rivers in the northeast section of the park. The rest of the reserve (a 7000 km2 buffer zone and a 4820 km2 transition zone) includes much of the remaining park area and the adjacent Waorani Ethnic Reserve.
The Yasuni Biosphere Reserve is the core of a small, unique area where South America’s plant, amphibian, bird, and mammal species richness centers overlap. Furthermore, the reserve is located within the ‘Core Amazon’, an especially wet region to maintain wet, rainforest conditions as climate change-induced drought intensifies in the Eastern Amazon. Haffer (1969, 1997) postulated that the area in and around the Yasuni Biosphere Reserve was one of several Amazonian forest refugia during dry climatic periods over the past 65 million years, but this hypothesis has now largely been rejected (Mayle et al 2004, Maslin et al 2005).
The Waorani People
The Waorani are Amerindians from the Amazonian Region of Ecuador (Napo, Orellana and Pastaza Provinces) who have marked differences from other ethnic groups from Ecuador. The entire Yasuni Biosphere Reserve region is ancestral Waorani territory, which extends from the Napo River on the north and west, down to the Curaray River in the south and eastward into Peru. This vast territory, which stretches over 20 000 km2, underlies the current limits of Yasuni National Park and the Waorani Ethnic Reserve
Information on Waorani history and distribution prior to the twentieth century is scarce and speculative The Waorani were traditionally a highly mobile, semi-nomadic population of hunter-gatherer horticulturalists. They lived in four warring and widely dispersed groups located on hilltops away from major rivers; the headwaters of the Tiputini River constituted the core of ancestral Waorani territory. Other indigenous groups, mainly the Zaparos, lived along the Tiputini and Curaray rivers in essence surrounding the Waorani. When the Zaparos were suddenly decimated by disease and violent displacement during the rubber boom that hit the region in the late 1800s, the Waorani were able to expand their territory northward to the Napo and southward to the Upper Curaray and Villano rivers. Waorani territory likely reached its greatest extent at the beginning of 20th century.
At least two lines of evidence suggest that the Waorani were quite isolated, even from other indigenous groups in the area, for a long time:
1. – Their language, Wao Terero, is an isolated one without known congeners and with only two known cognates at the time of missionary contact in the late 1950s Wao Terero is considered unique in linguistic construction, with no known similarities with Zaparoan phonology or structure.
2. – The genetic homogeneity of The Waorani also points to a lengthy isolation of their population.
During modern history, there were four major periods of early contact between the Waorani —which translates to ‘the people’ or ‘true human beings’ in Wao Terero— and outsiders encroaching on their territory:
1. – The rubber boom in the late 1800s/early 1900s,
An animal tried to attack me on my last day in the forest. I was never in danger of actually getting bit, but this sort of thing is so rare that it really made me think. I was trying to remember if I had ever been attacked by something in the wild. In all the years spent lurking around in forests and grasslands and deserts I don’t think it had ever happened. It was a venomous snake that tried to bit me.
We had a big time birder in camp. He had 2500-something South American birds
on his list and the guy he was chasing had 2800-something birds. He was behind by
300 or so. We get our share of serious birders at the lodge. The reason is that we
have birds that are not easily located in other places. And it is Fernando that they
hire to find these rare and often very specialized birds for them—things like Ochre-
striped Antpitta, Fiery Topaz, Salvin’s Curassow, and Wing-banded Antbird. They
give Fernando a wish list and his job is to find the birds on the list. It sounds easy,
but in practice it can be quite difficult to find things in this very complicated place.
The species they want to see are often very secretive, and they are themselves living
complicated lives. Things move around; the weather changes. Resources shift and
trees fall. There are a lot of variables.
Fernando was busy with birders the entire time I was there. Since Fernando was
busy working and Ajuancamo, my normal Waoroni guide, was nowhere to be found,
I was free to wander around the forest on my own. I didn’t worry about being alone
in the forest, and in fact looked forward to it each day. I saw it as an opportunity to
do something different, an experiment of sorts. Instead of having a lot of goals and
destinations in mind, I decided to let the forest tell me what to do. It was an exciting
experiment.
Each trail in the Shiripuno is a universe unto itself; no two trails are remotely
similar. From above, the Amazon rainforest appears to be somewhat uniform.
But walking inside the forest one is quickly dismissed of this notion. The forest
constantly changes—that the bacteria and fungi in the soil change in response to
the minerals, the topography, and amount of water, which in turn cause the plants
to change, which in turn affect the mammals, insects and birds. Not to mention the
action of the river or the wind or the tremendous rainfall. I once rode into the forest
with an experienced naturist, who in mid trip, suddenly felt like he had been robbed.
“I thought you said this forest hadn’t been logged,” he said to me in an accusatory
tone.
He had a point. From above, the path of the Shiripuno looks like a pile of spaghetti.
The river swings back and forth the forest in tightly bunched hairpin turns.
The river is constantly cutting the land of the downhill side of the river and
simultaneously laying down silt on the opposite or uphill side of the river. In effect,
the Shiripuno acts a giant bulldozer, eating away at the riverbanks and tearing gaping holes in the primary forest lining the river. But the naturist needn’t have been so alarmed. Away from the violence of the stream he would find the wild and primary forest he paid to see.
It was interesting being in the forest alone. I would hear a sound and try to investigate it. Sometimes I would try to see what was making the sound by moving back and forth on the trail. At other times, I would go off trail and attempt to track down the source of the hidden sound. And in other instances, I would stand still and see if the animal would make itself known. If I heard something moving through the
forest such as a flock of birds, I would race ahead to try and intercept it. Hearing is important that seeing, in large part because seeing is so difficult.
But I didn’t always go alone; sometimes Fernando would invite me to go with his group. It depended upon how things were gong with the client and the type of mission they were on. For some animals, the number of people can be problematic, but for others it doesn’t matter as much. Float trips fall into the latter category.
The boat has plenty of room and it doesn’t hurt to an extra pair of eyes on board.
One day, I joined Fernando to look for the secretive birds that live in the dense
vegetation growing on the silty, newly formed, banks of the river. The idea was to
float down the river until we heard the Crake or Antpitta we were looking for, land
the canoe on the beach, cut a window in the dense growth, get into place, and play
the recording with the hope that the bird would investigate. The machete window
was a little crowded so I moved down a ways and just stuck my head into the
vegetation (after checking for ants first). I don’t know how this might have looked
to the birds, but I was happy with my little window. Once you were past the initial
layer of leaves, it opened up and you could see 2 or 3 meters deep into an absolute
maze of stems and branches no thicker than your thumb.
Everyone was in position and no one was making a sound if they could help it.
There was an air of excitement. We can hear the bird moving closer, louder and
louder until it sounded like it was right in front of us. Everyone is trying to be still,
but when the bird is right in front of you and you still cannot see it, it is natural to
bend your knees and crane your head this way and that. To one degree or another
everyone is dong this. I began wonder what the Waoroni must think about the
strange behavior of the people who visit their forest. The tension to see the bird is
high because he will only show himself for a brief moment and when he leaves he
will have seen enough and not bother to return. It’s a one shot deal. Suddenly I see
the bird. I can see where the bird is, but I can’t get onto the bird in all the tangles
with my binoculars. I am working the focus knob like a demon, trying to hit upon
the depth of field where the bird is sitting. Sometimes an inch or two one way or
another makes all the difference. Time was running out. And then boom there it was.
I could see a bright orange head on a chicken-like bird; I could even see his mouth
moving as he yelled back at Fernando. It was Chestnut–headed Crake and it was
much more beautiful in real life than I expected; my first Crake. I don’t know why it
is such a thrill to see a really cryptic animal, but it is.
On our last day in the forest, Fernando invited me to join his group to look for a
bird called Rio Suno Antwren. No doubt about it, this is a very rare bird, and one
our guest was very keen upon seeing. I was happy to go not only because I hadn’t
seen this particular antwren, but also because I hadn’t been on the trail where this
bird can be found for years and I remembered it as an exciting place. This trail is
called the Saladero, which roughly translated means: the salt trail. It’s the most
downstream of all our trails and is an old hunting trail of the Waoroni, which led to
a huge salt lick. As we crossed the first swamp, memories of the last time I was here
started coming back. All of our trails have a distinct personality and can feel very
different from one another. The Saldero has a dark and foreboding feel to it. The
trees here don’t seem to suffer as much tree fall as on other trails, and as such they
seem to grow taller and in more profusion—so thick that the sunlight barely seems
to make it down to ground level. The forest here feels close and dark and wild.
Fernando suddenly stops and motions us to be quiet. I scan with my binoculars the
narrow jungle stream ahead. I don’t see anything, but a weird trumpet sound is
coming from the tangled vegetation. I hear some heavy footsteps and it is clear that
some kind of a large animal is in there, but still I see nothing. And then there it is, a
Tapir! He’s huge. I can see his head and ears, and his broad chocolate-brown back
and he’s walking right toward us—unbelievable. The most surprising thing was that
when he wanted to disappear, he did so without a sound. Given its large size and the
fact that it was moving through mud and heavy plant growth makes this even more
impressive. Amazing feat really.
Initially, the trail is flat and swampy but later it gets hilly and thick with trees.
The forest was full of birds. After a couple of hours we come to a complicated
intersection of dark canyons, tiny streams, and towering trees. There is a flock.
Fernando plays the call for Rio Suno, and a beautiful blackish bird with an even
blacker throat magically appears out of the jungle ether. He put on a great show,
allowing everyone an excellent look. We started early at 5:00am but here it was
already noon; where the time goes I have no idea.
It was the last afternoon and Fernando still had birds to find for his tour. The
Antpittas had been a disaster. When they heard the call, instead of coming toward
the recording they turned and fled the other way. Fernando thought the problem
might be that they are nesting. The birders went into the forest for another Crake,
Black-banded this time, but no sooner did they leave than they returned. The crake
turned out to be on the other side of the river so into the boat they went. I decided
to join them. We landed the boat and played the tape but he wouldn’t come close.
As the sun got lower in the sky and the time began to run out, the birders shifted
focus: Army ants they cried and charged off into the forest in hopes of finding an
ant swarm and the rare birds that accompany them. This wasn’t for me. For one I
figured that I had already intruded enough on them for one day, and two, I had been
walking the trails near the lodge for the past two weeks and the odds seemed low
that they weren’t any ant swarms near by.
My whole body was sore from walking trails and I sat debating whether to go out
one last time. Walking on rain forest trails is hard work. For one thing, the ground
is uneven and there are many hard objects that bother your feet such as tree roots.
And there is mud and water and hills and standing for hours and hours in thick
rubber boots.
But no sooner had I put my binoculars down than I heard my name being called.
Hey Mike, come here quick. I grabbed my stuff and ran into the forest. The birders
had surprised a coral snake on the trial. It was absolutely beautiful with its narrow
bands of alternating black and red. The bands were clearly present, but at the same
time they were heavy fringed in such a way as to make them look like the colors all
ran together; a weird but beautiful effect. The whole pattern made the snake cryptic
and dusky like the night. Suddenly it wriggled into the leaf litter and was gone. This
was the only the second time I had never seen a coral snake in the wild.
So off they went in the fading light to find an ant swarm and I was again left to my
own devices in the forest. I decided to continue down the same trail albeit more
slowly. A hundred or so meters later, some movement beside the trail caught my
attention. I don’t know very much but I knew that the moment was too big for a
lizard, or frog, or insect. I stopped and leaned forward for a closer look. And Just as
I said to myself, it’s a fer-de-lance; it struck at me violently. Evidently, Fernando’s
group had made him angry and now he was fighting mad and striking at anything
that came by. Because Fer-de Lances are responsible for the vast majority of
snakebites in Central and South American, they are quite famous. Well easy enough,
I’ll just go around him. He’s on one side of the trail and I’ll just pass him by walking
on the far side of the trial. There appeared to be plenty of room. He wasn’t having
any of it. Just as I got opposite him, he struck at me for a second time, but then he did
something totally unexpected: he came after me. I remember seeing a very busy s-
shape scuttling across the trail toward me and then my rubber boots high stepping
the hell out of there. I didn’t think I could move my feet that fast. When I was about
3 meters away, and I stopped running and turned to look at this crazy animal. There
he was facing me in the middle of the trail. Boom he struck again. And then again
and again, the ferocity of each strike carrying him forward about six inches. It was
an astonishing and curious set of events.
It was getting dark and I didn’t have a flashlight. The problem was that I couldn’t
just leave this crazy snake in the middle trail, what if Fernando’s group decided
to use this trail to return to the lodge. Killing the snake wasn’t an option; we
don’t bother any life inside the forest. I could try to move the snake off the trail
with a stick, but there was no guarantee that he would stay put. Plus there was a
reasonable chance that he would go ape shit and become even more dangerous.
No, better to just wait it out. Fer-de Lance’s are primarily creatures of the night.
And I could see that he become progressively harder to distinguish among the
leaves on the trail as the light faded. It was very impressive to see its camouflage
increase as the sun set; the snake literally began to disappear. And then while I was
admiring the snake, a great crashing began all around me; two hundred squirrel
monkey’s were moving over my head through the canopy as the final light failed.
So there I was standing in a swamp with a pissed off Fer-de Lance in the trail, with
two hundred monkey’s crashing around over my head, my arms getting bit by tiny
mosquitoes, and I thought: What a forest this is. You never know what you are going
to find in here and this thought made me feel happy. Another end to the trip, too bad
we couldn’t do it all over again tomorrow.
Hummingbirds are found only in the Americas, which are home to more than 300 different hummingbird species. Most are found only in Central and South America
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