As our little motorboat traveled through Rio San Lourenzo in Pantanal, a vast wetland in Brazil, I was ready to wait for the magical morning light to soak up. Liana, Acuri palms and Stongler fig tangles were pushed nearby along the riverbank. I stared at the forest, scanning my movements, searching for the Jaguar for the shadows. But that was too early.
Wild perseverance is a lesson I learned during my lifetime travels. For example, on an African safari, it can take several days to find cheetahs and leopards.
But in Brazil, we were out on the river for just 30 minutes when a scream came from Captain Gabriel: “Jaguar!”
And he was an epic man tanning himself in re. I was hoping he would run away. But when we pulled up to the riverbank he remained careful but inexplicable, giving no sign of being disturbed. Further upstream, we happened to a female jaguar in her turnip. As they walked along the riverbank, the turnips saw us suspiciously, but to our mother it was as if we weren't even there.
Near the heart of Brazil, Pantanal begins south of the city of Cuiaba. From there, the MT-060 and the unstretched Transpantaneira Expressway, which passes through the savanna and forests, ranch and ecolodges, from the tiny Porto Joffre (approximately 160 miles).
At Porto Jofre, the edge of the highway ends and the motorboat takes over the guide and local captain.
I arrived in late November, the end of the dry season. Porto Joffres was not a pinpic of human existence, with a handful of lodges, camps and homes surrounded by rainforests. The family of capybara, the world's largest rodent, took over the runway. Hyacinth's Concoe screamed overhead.
For the next few days I woke up before dawn in the simple palm-colored environment of Jaguar Camp run by our guide Ayrton Lara, where we had rain on every humid morning, raining, and several fishermen cleaned up the morning catch. The fleet of tourist boats during the high season from June to September was already a distant memory.
But even on these quiet mornings, the boats are leaving with visitors, heading 60 miles upstream in search of the Jaguar. They usually don't have to travel that far. Within an hour of Porto Joffre, find what you're looking for in Encontro Daságuas (Meeting of the Waters) State Park.
His soft-cell approach attracted me to Mr. Lala, 44, and his Pantanal Nature Tour Company. One of Pantanal's most experienced guides, he has been exploring the river network for decades. For him, it was all about the Jaguar. If I want to join him, that would be great. If not, he would be there anyway, looking for animals.
There were Mr. Lara and Mr. Gabriel. After the first second sighting of the morning, we relaxed from the Main River to a stream called Korixon Negro. “This is ground zero for Jaguar,” Lara said.
As if cued, beyond the giant otter family, the female jaguar turnip towed, facing off against the unsuspecting caiman from the branches that bulging out the edge of the water, and the fierce fuss of water. There were several other guide boats along with us, so there was a shortness of breath that could be heard in the camera clicks. The magnificent female jaguar in the golden light of the morning came out of the water. I looked at Lala. His eyes were shining like all of us.
This section of the Northern Pantanal features one of the highest jaguar densities in South America. Approximately 3 for every 39 square miles. But when it comes to actually seeing Jaguar, it wasn't always like this.
For around 20 years, after decades of hunting, poaching the skin and retaliation for the occasional loss of livestock, everything has hidden the Jaguars. The combination of government protection, increased tourism and early ecotourism projects led to an increasingly friendly relationship between humans and jaguars. Over the years, Jaguar has become accustomed to people carrying boats and cameras inside.
“The human-jaguar conflict is disappearing around this part of Porto Joffre,” Lara said. “We're starting to live in harmony with the Jaguar.”
That's an unusual situation. “Jaguars are usually very shy and avoid human presence,” says Fernando Torto, Brazilian Conservation Program Coordinator at Wildcat Conservation nonprofit Panthera. “People say that Jaguars are like ghosts who live in the jungle.”
It's not here. There is an unlikely intimacy between the animal and the guide. They named the Jaguar. For example, the man named Lala had his leg burned in a recent wildfire. Patricia and her turnip. A crooked Marcela, Amber Eyed and pregnant.
It is helpful that North Pantanar does not have a significant town. There are no gas stations or shops within 100 miles. And the riverbanks are full of jaguar prey: kaimans, capybaras, tapirs, and tyrant-like birds of black support water, and calls that blend perfectly with the brown foliage trash of the forest floor, making them sound like Formula 1 engines.
“The Jaguars here are doing really well,” Lara said.
As long as certain rules are followed, tourist boats should respectfully maintain distance, observe the jaguars in silence, and allow the animal space to hunt and swim. Jaguars are hardly affected by visitors. In fact, tourism has deepened knowledge of Jaguar's behavior.
There are so many eyes on Jaguars, new behaviors are being observed. The Jaguar learns to creep up the Caiman by swiming underwater and suddenly surfaces with his prey. Men form cooperatively hunting coalitions.
“They record everything and observe the jaguars every day,” Dr. Tortato said. “It's a kind of citizen science. Only one WhatsApp video can be the beginning of a new study.”
Future challenges
Pantanal may look like a jaguar paradise, but the threat remains. On the last day of my trip, the provincial governments of Mato Grosso and Mato Grosso d'Our announced plans to cross the bridge to Saint Lourenzo in Porto Jofre. In their announcement, the state government, which did not respond to requests for comment, justified the move as a means of promoting ecotourism by linking the northern and southern Pantaner regions.
Local activists, scientists and tour operators are opposed to the project.
“This road will increase traffic, which inevitably increases roadkills,” said Gustavo Figueiroa, biologist and director of conservation at SOS Pantanal, a nonprofit against roads. “Pantanal loses wildness and isolation.”
Lara reiterated her concern. “Building a road could kill Pantanal,” he said. “More people carry soybeans, there are more trucks, there are more construction.”
Without roads and bridges, Pantanal faces challenges.
Last year, the fire burned a quarter of the Pantanal, and the drought led to the lowest water level ever in Rio Paraguay, part of a network of rivers upstream from Porto Joffre. A study on Landmark 2023 of the Plan to Drop the Paraguay River to enable freight river traffic found that the project poses an existential threat to the wider biome. Only 5% of the Pantanals are officially protected.
And in Brazil, as ever, the political winds that ranchers oppose conservationists are never far apart. Even in a time of relative peace, the two coexist uncomfortably. Signs welcoming visitors to the Cuiaba describe the city as “the capital of Pantanal and the agribusiness.”
For now, the local isolation and growth fame as the world's best place to see Jaguar makes it safe.
Finally we returned to the river to see Marcella attacking the caiman with pregnant female jaguars, stems and shallow waters, carrying it into the undergrowth. Soon, her meal was over, and she came out again and took her to the water. We continued far more than an hour before she disappeared.
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