And it burns, burns, burns and burns and burns

I think something of Paraguay and the fires finally hit the international news this week. As I said in my last blog, the fires have had a huge impact on San Pedro, the department we live in, with 20,000 people now homeless. And that was only last week, before the rains came. It has had quite a significant impact on us too.

Apparently August is always a very dry month, in which people get sick, crops die and it’s said that if old people survive August one year, they will live to see the next one. According to the mechanic who fixes my car (more regularly than I would like), at the start of the month you are supposed to drink a mix of 6 types of yerba (the tea made from a plant grown in Paraguay) which all have different remedial properties with a lot of rum to prevent yourself from getting sick. I wish I had known that beforehand. I ended up ill in the middle of the month and at one point lost my voice from smoke inhalation. I asked several people what causes the fires and got a whole range of different answers. They can start naturally, perhaps by the magnifying glass effect of intense sun hitting the due on the ground or by lightning strike. Other fires might be started by people who are burning rubbish and have made a small fire which got out of control, or on purpose to clear away the old grass and bring up the new shoots that the cattle and horses can eat. Another reason is that after the dry period, all the vegetation dies and turns brown, making it difficult to see snakes, so people might burn to kill the snakes. Then there are the usual reasons like a carelessly flicked cigarette butt or match. Whatever the reason is, the bottom line is that once it’s started, it’s very difficult to stop and we watched several sweep through the habitat around us for a week and a half until everything was burned and there was nothing left.

A couple of times it came very close to our wooden house. The closest we let it get to us was when it took out all of the reedbeds by the lake about 15 meters from our porch. Fortunately, there is a sand road between the reeds and the house with some overhanging trees. Jeni and I spent a part of our night swinging from the overhanging trees like Tarzan and Jane (not sure which was which) to make sure none of them caught on fire and transferred the burning to our side of the road. It was spectacular to watch, as fire is anyway, but to see it moving systematically from one clump of grass to the next in a line that stretched out to the water was amazing. There were some scary moments too, like when the sky was orange in three directions around the house and the fire too big to stop, or when we couldn’t see each other properly when standing inside the house because the smoke was clouding up our air. That night we all slept in surgical masks.

The whole of the cerrado was destroyed in a matter of days - from bright green to black ash in minutes. The same happened to the forest, only it took a bit longer. All the places where we had traps out or had been studying were destroyed. We went for 26 days without rain and on the 27^th day, it rained for about 3 minutes. I think on about the 33^rd day, we had proper, useful rain and it hasn’t really stopped since. The cerrado is already recovering well and looks much prettier than before. We have seen a significant increase in the variety and quantity of wildlife we catch ad see on a daily basis and the frogs are all out singing every night. Now there are lizards, birds, frogs, snakes, mice, armadillos etc. It seems that the habitat is well adapted to the fire and rain even if the people aren’t. We have already endured a 4 day storm and right now I can hear the thunder coming our way again. Here it comes, the sound of drums (Rogue Traders) – the rain is so loud on the metal roof. In Britain, people complain all the time about the weather, but I can now appreciate that living in a predictable environment is much more comfortable and safe than this country with its wild extremes. 

Back to Blog

I have been awake most of the night due to the intense heat that at one point made me think I might have been going mad, followed by the rolling and sometimes cracking of thunder not too far from the end of my bed. Much of the night was spent waiting for the tree to come crashing through the roof. Even now at 11.30am, 7 and a half hours after the start of the storm it hasn’t moved away as such, but now seems to have surrounded us. Outside, it may as well be night time, even the frogs are confused. So without power, light, more than one volunteer or any food, it seems like a perfect time to write the first blog I have written since May. I have to apologise to the people who were actually reading it, I hadn’t realised.

One of the problems with trying to write a blog is that so much happens, then when I don’t write it quickly, more stuff happens and when I don’t write that either, I eventually just think screw it. It’s too much stuff. I have more free time these days, but up until the start of this month my time spent in front of a computer has been minimal. It’s basically as quick as I can get through the emails I have to write and onto the next thing, as my job now involves a lot more being awake and active than I ever thought it would. I guess that’s a good thing though. So the last 3 and a half months have been action packed to say the least. I have met some great people, said goodbye to some great people, been invited to parties and football games, stayed up all night, watched the skinning and preparation of one of our pigs for the bbq, been on a rescue mission (failed unfortunately), travelled to Asuncion and to Ciudad del Este, built a garden, broken the car, slept all night on a bench in Santa Rosa, removed fleas from under the skin, witnessed the burning of the cerrado, bought a pet syriama off the back of a motorbike, woken up to an owl flying around my room, but most importantly, watched  Para La Tierra grow into a success, both scientifically and as an organisation and for that I am very proud.

One of the things that have helped to make that happen are our excellent volunteers. First came Allyn, the quiet (‘til he gets a drink in him) Californian who probably knows this place as well as the people who have lived here all their lives. Joe, the loud guy from somewhere on the East Coast with his Ugg slippers and New York Times puzzles who taught me more American slang than it’s possible to keep up with. Derek (one) and Rosemary, the Kiwi’s who caught and drew the birds, directed the garden project and generally kept us right. Shane, “the Chancellor” from Virginia with a sensible head and practical hands whose main accomplishment was the Chill Spot, destined to be used by all future visitors to PLT (he has also ended up being a bit more important to me too). Derek (zero) and Victoria the other Kiwi’s who saved me from an eternity of fighting with ArcGIS and made sure we knew all the rules to shithead. Then finally there was Mike, whose hunger for activity and to see all he could see made him one of the most productive of our volunteers. Having to say goodbye to people is one thing I hate most in the world, although I seem to have set myself up in a job where I have to do it regularly. I really think it’s worth it though for the time spent in between.

Our projects are booming and I have written about them on facebook and on the website if anyone is interested so I won’t talk about them here. We also have a few new ones in the pipe-line I am very excited about including a high-flying bats survey. It’s all going to be very labour intensive and although I frequently complain about having no time to sit down or to catch up on work, I love it really. I can’t imagine myself doing anything else now. There are down times, like in the wake of someone’s departure, or when we catch nothing in the traps for 7 days in a row, but the next brilliant thing always comes along sooner rather than later and keeps things moving and changing just enough to keep everyone in high spirits and looking forward. As for the place, I know I have said it a hundred times before but I still wake up every morning and can’t believe my luck to live somewhere this stunning and interesting and important.

I guess anyone who has been keeping up with Jeni’s blog will know that she has recently left PLT. I guess it was the right thing for her to do, as she had tried and seen and done and got what she wanted from this section of her life. Now she is in Bolivia working with lettuces and seems to be enjoying it and happy. That has been a particularly hard adjustment for me going from having my best friend to share a room with and who always understood and laughed with me when things went wrong ...again. Now it’s a bit lonely to say the least but it’s different now and I am getting used to it. My new employee Loraine is great and is settling in well to life at Laguna Blanca. Unfortunately though for the foreseeable future we will have an employee/employer relationship which I never had with Jeni who was my co-pilot.

I am really looking forward to the arrival of more people. I like it a lot when the house is busy, everyone doing their own thing and moving at different times in different combinations, but all coming together to eat and compare notes at the end of it. By next month we will be busy again and the house will be alive with activity. Right now it’s just me, Loraine and Emma, our new intern, in this space big enough for 15.

The storm is deafening. While we are inside this big house with all this space, the Departmento (State) around us of San Pedro has been declared in a state of emergency due to fire and heavy rains leaving 20,000 people homeless. Paraguay ticks on as a third world country around us and we hardly even notice. Was that in the news in any other country? My laptop battery is about to die now but I will take the time to write some good stories later when we have power again. As Joe would say and tell me never to say because my Scottish accent can’t pull it off – peace.