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The Spinetail and the Antbird
Mariana Vale Studies Birds to Understand Deforestation in the Amazon
by Michael Tennesen
Whoever said the road to paradise leads first through the gates of Hell must have ridden the overnight bus from Ciudad Guyana, Venezuela, to Boa Vista, Brazil.
The only road between the two cities is a narrow strip of crumbling pavement. Marked by steep inclines, hairpin curves and terrifying descents, it zigzags up the stark, windblown peaks of the Guiana Highlands before plunging into the vast green expanse of the Amazon Basin. My bus driver, however, thinks he's on a six-lane expressway. He barrels down the road at a madman's pace. Around midnight, two headlights round a blind corner in front of us and swerve into our lane. The vehicles veer to the sides at the last minute and pass within inches of each other. An overhanging branch smacks against our bus and cracks a window. My driver slows only briefly.
I am making the trek to Boa Vista, the remote capital of the northern Brazilian state of Roraima, to meet Mariana Vale, a Nicholas School doctoral student in the University Program in Ecology.
Vale, a native Brazilian, studies the effect of deforestation on the region's wildlife, particularly on two species of birds found nowhere else in the world: the hoary-throated spinetail and the Rio Branco antbird.
She began her study of the birds several years ago as a way of assessing the damage that Avança Brasil, a multi-billion-dollar development program launched in 2000, might be having have on biodiversity in this frontier state. The program is bringing roads, dams, and other infrastructure to the region, literally paving the way for its development. But it's also bringing conflict between indigenous people, who rely on the jungle for food and shelter, and newly arrived farmers and ranchers who want to clear it for fields and pastures.
Vale is a member of Stuart L. Pimm's lab at the Nicholas School. Pimm, Doris Duke Professor of Conservation Ecology, selected her for the project because of her past experience studying deforestation issues in the region and because, as a native Brazilian, she's readily accepted by the local community. It doesn't hurt that she has a big, friendly smile that helps gets her through tight spots.
The morning after I arrive in Boa Vista, however, Vale's smile has been replaced by a frown. After a frenzied race through town to gather supplies and gear needed for an expedition up the Rio Branco—a tributary of the Rio Negro— we are waiting in a small café for Claudio, our boat driver,who is late. Vale is worried."Claudio is never late," she says.
An hour later, Claudio shows up in an open, 18-foot aluminum rental boat with a meager 15-horse power motor. The wiry young Brazilian tells us that last night, heavy rains filled up his own boat and it sank in the river near his home. He will get the local fire department to come help him fish it out but he had to rent another boat for now. Vale is concerned that the added expense will cut into her funds for the expedition.
photo captions: Mariana Vale; Stuart Pimm; Hoary-throated Spinetail; Rio Branco Antbird.