Ingham’s W RLD
IT’S just before dawn in the Peruvian Amazon. My wife and I are on the banks of the Madre de Dios, a chocolate-brown river dwarfing the Thames as it meanders off to the Amazon hundreds of miles away in Brazil via jungle-lined tributaries. In the river lurk piranhas and anacondas but we are here for only one thing – and the treetop chattering tells us we will not be disappointed.
There, drab in the half light, is what will become a kaleidoscope of parrots, macaws and parakeets.
They are gathering to extract minerals from the cliffs rising above the river near Puerto Maldonado.
As the sun rises, it paints the scene with colour, as if a black-and-white movie suddenly switched to Technicolor.
The bigger the flocks, the more skittish they become, rising at the least disturbance – a sudden noise, a black vulture gliding overhead – and the blue-headed macaws lead the flight, long yellow tails lit by the first rays of the sun.
In among the flocks are dusky-headed parakeets, a rather dull name for a squawking green bird with a grey head.
Then, with the sun up and the temperature rising, the stars of the show take centre stage
By now back in our boat with our guide, we watch as blueheaded parrots (below) flock in their hundreds to the brown cliffs. They cling to them like blue tits to a feeder, and indulge in an early morning frenzy of licking the mud.
Time and again they flee as one in a flurry of feathers before quickly returning to the salt lick with their moth-like flight, jostling with parakeets, feeding like junkies getting a fix.
The air is filled with caws and shrieks as the birds get their fill.
Meanwhile, a gull-like bird, a black skimmer, does what its name suggests, skimming the river surface with its overlong lower bill.
It felt a privilege to witness this a couple of weeks ago on a memorable trek round Peru and Bolivia.
We’d begun our vigil by climbing into our long canoe in darkness to the haunting dawn chorus of the red howler monkey which sounds like an industrial drain on the blink. But we finished the morning in awe of the beauty of the best of the jungle. TARANTULAS, which we saw while swatting mozzies on a night walk in the jungle, have an unlikely ally – small frogs. Our guide told us that tarantulas protect the frogs from snakes and in return the frogs eat ants which devour spider eggs. So touching – but we kept our distance in case the hairy beastie was feeling peckish. A CALL across the water alerted us. And then we saw them – a family of giant river otters playing and feeding on a huge oxbow lake surrounded by rainforest.
These otters, which can grow to nearly 6ft, are endangered after decades of poaching. But on this sunny morning all seemed well with their world as they dived and rolled and splashed and mewed. It was absolutely magical. GREEN TIP: Spread mulch on flowerbeds to hold in the moisture – and water at a plant’s base, not over it. AT nearly 12,000ft La Paz claims to be the world’s highest capital, sitting in a huge bowl surrounded by mountains. And the Bolivians have shunned an underground system and opted to go overground. They have cable cars which slash journey times by two-thirds – and provide the most relaxing, scenic commute imaginable. It beats Southern Rail. LA Paz has seen the impact of climate change first-hand. For decades the nearby Chacaltaya glacier was – at 17,600ft – the world’s highest ski resort. But the glacier disappeared in 2009 and the snow has all but gone. La Paz depends on glaciers for its water – and many are in retreat.