Russelia flowers

This is the first dry season for our newly dug well. Everything is getting watered now and it's showing. The russelia (Russelia sp.) plants have plenty of flowers and they attract butterflies and hummingbirds.

Holes, continued

A newly constructed underground apartment. An armadillo, for sure. Amazing how fast they can dig.

Holes, continued

These holes have been around for a long time. My guess is that armadillos were the original dwellers. I can also imagine that they are in the high rent district at Bosque Santa Lucia. Some day I'll stick around for awhile to see what comes out.

Holes

Knock, knock. Anyone at home?

Dr. Okada, in memory

Hibiscus rosa-sinensis. I remember the first time I placed an image of this plant on the blog. It was a puny plant of no more than 12 inches high. It surprised all of us by producing a large red flower, the size of those you see above. I made the remark, "imagine what it'll produce when it grows up." Dedicated to Dr. Okada, a local physician, who passed away last night. We've know him since we arrived in Santarém in 1979.

Ubaia flowers

At last my cultivated ubaia tree (Eugenia patrisii) is blooming again. I'm sure that Marco Lacerda, co-author of Brazilian Fruits, will be delighted with the news. The tree has grown a lot since the last fruit produced last year. Amazing what some water and tender loving care will do for a tree.

Bring home the meat

I don't know the name of this high-strung, racy insect in shining blue armor. They move around real fast-like and in this case, it seems to have paid off. If I'm not mistaken, that's a baby spider being dragged off for dinner. Click on image for more details.

Wasp on Vanilla leaf

Our new resident continues to build on to its nest, which is attached to a vanilla orchid leaf. Click on the image for a better view.

Tento seeds falling, continued

Some tento seeds I picked up off the ground yesterday.

Wasp nest

This nest seems to made by only one wasp. At least I've only seen a single wasp at a time. When finished, it'll be nearly as long as a pencil.

Tento seeds falling

Yes, tento (Ormosia sp.) seeds are falling, but very slowly. The tree seems to resent having all the seeds fall at once. It tenaciously hangs on to each and every pod for weeks and sometimes months. In the attached image you can see the pods, which have turned a bright red color. Some seeds can be seen towards the top of the image. With time, they'll fall from the pods. Next image, the seeds.

Lucky bridge, continued

I forgot to mention that some of the branches of the pau mulato tree (Calycophllum spruceanum) also came down over the bridge. I was thrilled to see the fruit of the tree, per attached image. This is the first time I've seen them up close. In the past, I've included some posts in my blog about this tree. It's called an "ironwood" because of the high density of the wood. It's a favorite for making charcoal because it produces long-lasting hot coals. It was also the favorite wood for feeding the boilers of the old paddle-wheeled steamships.

Lucky bridge, continued

Here's a more distant shot of the mass of tree branches lodging in the lowland vegetation on the other side of the footbridge.

Lucky bridge, continued

Here's a better view of that part of the paricá tree that fell over the footbridge without smashing it to bits. Look at how neatly it came to rest in the forks of the two smaller trees. To the left you can see a piece of the rope that serves as a handrail. It was spared too. Cleuson simply cut the section of the tree that was blocking access to the bridge. Paricá isn't a very hard wood, so it was no big deal.

Lucky bridge

Yes, trees have a way of falling and whatever is under them get destroyed, in most cases. Certainly an exception was my footbridge, which spans an old creek bed just down the trail from the reception center. In the attached image you can see the paricá tree (Schizolobium parahyba) that broke off at about 5 meters up its trunk and then fell on a pau multo tree (Calycophyllum spruceanum), which also broke off at about the same height. The impact of hitting the pau mulato slowed the falling of the paricá to the extent it got caught up in the fork of another tree on the other side of the bridge. As you can see, it came to rest over the bridge with less than a meter of free space. Next image, please.

Red lily

I planted this lily in the old hollowed out log next to the entrance to the Bosque.  This is the first time that it's bloomed.  I'm sure this variety of lily was one that got spread around by local dwellers who liked the colors.  Sometimes I see bunches of them in bloom along the dirt road going to Poco Branco, the next community down the road.  They are eye-catchers.

Geniparana bud

This is the first geniparana (Gustavia agusta) bud I've seen this season. Some of these big white flowers get to be the size of a dinner plate.

Goat balls, continued

I took the opened fruit back to the reception center for a better look. Unfortunately, I didn't think to taste the fruit. When I came back the next day, there was nothing left of the fruit except the pod and some seeds. Some animal liked it.

Goat balls, continued

Here's a better look at the opened fruit. A very colorful sight of bright orange and black.

Goat balls

I walked right by this small tree without seeing it. Daniel, my younger boy, pointed it out to me, knowing that I'd be interested in getting a picture. It's not something we see on a daily basis, but I've seen them in the past. The only name I've been able to come up with among neighbors is "goat balls". Notice the fruit on the right. It's starting to open.

Cicadia, continued

This picture was taken with a green leaf placed over the glass of the built in flash on my camera. I wasn't really trying to get the green effect. My objective was to cut down on the brightness of the flash, which was washing everything out. Well ....

Another rabo de arara

This is a another image of a "macaw's tail". It's definitely a liana. Robin Foster at the Field Museum, Chicago tells me that the family is Fabaceae - Papilionodideae. The genus is probably dioclea. Thanks again for the help.

Ani eggs, continued

I may have to make a public apology to those big black birds, called greater anis. In a series of blog posts I accused them of parasitism, thinking that they were laying their eggs in a nest of another bird. I made this accusation, first of all because we found three of their eggs on the ground under a mumbaca palm. The rationale was that the real owner of the nest was rejecting them. Secondly, Cleuson told me that the anis were around much of the time, but that he had never seen them bringing in food or nest-building material. Well, I shouldn't jump to conclusions so fast. Yesterday I spotted two of the anis, I assume a couple, land in the jacarandá do Pará tree next to the palm. To my surprise one of the beautiful birds had what appeared to be food in her beak. They then flew into the palm, shown in the attached image. I may have found the nest. It appears to be where we see all those dried up leaves. In searching the web for pictures of the great ani, I found an article, which states that although a member of the cuckoo family, anis are not brood parasites. So, there you have it! Click on the link above to see pictures of our humiliated friends.

Coutarea hexandra

Oh happy day! It's so great getting this tree identified. It's in bloom only a few days of the year and I always take advantage of any visitor, local or otherwise, to ask if they know the name. Nope! Most locals identify it as a "vine", which it is not. There are several of these small trees around the reception center at the Bosque and it's natural that many other people also ask for a name. My first clue was a comment from Robin Foster at the Field Museum, Chicago, who identified the family as Rubiacae. He also suggested that I contact Charlotte Taylor at the Missouri Botanical Gardens for more details. I sent Charlotte some images this morning and in no time at all she sent me the name. Coutarea hexandra (Jacq.) K. Schum. This blog is not meant to be scientifically oriented, but it's so nice to make contact with people in the know. Thanks Robin and Charlotte.

Boa constrictor

The baby boa constrictor in the image took me by surprise this morning. It was right in the middle of the dirt road that runs through Bosque Santa Lucia; and I almost stepped on it. I was looking for some mystery survey markers on one side of the road, thus the distraction. After the initial scare, I got the impression that the snake was dead because I didn't see its head. That turned out to be the case. "A good snake is a dead snake" is the local mentality here. I assume someone killed it intentionally, or ran over it. Well ...

Capparaceae - capparis

I've been looking at these bright red seedpods for years without knowing the name. At last an identification! (Capparaceae) capparis. Again, thanks to Robin Foster at Field Museum Chicago for sharing his knowledge. We never see many of these trees around the Bosque, but the next time I do see one, I can look at it differently. I'll also try to get a better picture! Groan.

Henry Ford in Belterra, continued

I had the pleasure of taking Dr. Emerick Szilagyi of the Henry Ford Hospital in Michigan back to Belterra, where he had headed up the hospital between 1942-1945. I don't remember the year we made that visit, but according to Allison Jones, it was eight years ago. Seems to me that it was longer than that, but I'll take Allison's word for it until I can figure out the dates. My friend, Ginger sent me the above link, which refers to the professional career of Dr. Szilagyi. I remember he came close to crying when he saw the old Belterra Hospital closed down and taken over by bats and other varmints. As reported earlier, his rubber tree plantation hospital had been one of the most modern in Latin America. The attached image was taken shortly before the whole structure burned down. Today there's nothing left of the place except for two imperial palms (Roystonea oleracea), which marked the entrance to the hospital. One of those has died. Perhaps both of them.

Vitaceae - cissus

I consider myself victorious when I can get a tree or plant properly identified. Thanks to Robin Foster at the Field Museum in Chicago, such was the case of the plant in the attached image. I had identified it as red milkweed, based on what I heard from another non-professional several years ago. Robin set the record straight. It's Vitaceae - cissus. Many thanks for the help. There are more identifications to come.

Cláudio Serique

I had a note from Cláudio Serique telling me that I had misspelled the word caruara in previous posts about the muiratinga tree. Cláudio is owner of a school of English in Santarém and has an eagle eye for misspelled words, no matter what the language. I guess that explains why I couldn't find any references on the topic. I'll be going back to those posts to correct my mistakes. By the way, Cláudio mentions in his comment that the caruara (that oddity that's associated with the muiratinga tree) is often given to the bride as a present on the day of her wedding. The attached image was taken at Bosque Santa Lúcia.

Allison Jones, continued

Allison's question, "what was the name of the Ford Motor Company doctor who was with you when we met eight years ago?" keep haunting me for the next two days. How could I forget? Maybe the name is in my book, Santarém - Riverboat Town. Nope, not there. But I knew it was recorded in some written document. At last I remembered that Mary Dempsy, a Detroit based journalist, had interviewed him for a magazine report on Henry Ford in Belterra. There it was in her article. His name is Dr. Emerick Szilagyi. I have no idea if the good doctor is still alive. When I took him to revisit Belterra, he was getting up there in the years, but still worked at the Henry Ford Hospital in Detroit. I think I had given Mary Dempsy his name as a contact. Her original article appeared in the July/August 1994 issue of Michigan History. Click here for the link. That's me in the image. The picture was taken shortly before the whole hospital building burned down to the ground. It had been one of the most important hospitals in South America during the years Dr. Szilagyi had worked there, 1942-1945.

Ani egg, continued

Somewhere in this mass of thorns there's a bird nest. I have yet to find it and I won't be getting closer to the mumbaca palm to have a better look. It's amazing how monkeys and other animals get into these things with stabbing themselves.

Another ani egg

Yesterday we found another bird egg on the ground under the mumbaca palms. I assume they are from the greater ani (Crotophaga major) because they hang out in the palms, as well as neighboring trees. The question now is whether or not the nest belongs to them. My theory is that the anis are laying eggs in another bird's nest and the rightful owners are tossing the eggs out. This is the third egg we've found. The first was show in a previous post and the second one broke when it hit the ground. Cleuson, who spends the whole day at the Bosque, remarks that not once has he seen the anis bring in nesting material and not once has he seen them taking food to the young ones.

Allison Jones, continued

As mentioned, I was surprised to learn that Allison Jones and his wife have been living in Alter do Chão (only 30 kilometers from Santarém) for the last two years. I'm also pleased because I'll have a chance to get to know him better. We talked about everything under the sun yesterday at the Belo Alter Hotel, but I'd like to know more about him and the descendants of the American Confederates who settled in Santa Barbara, São Paulo. I know that the Jones family came to Brazil from Texas, right after the Civil War. Allison's mother, Judith McKnight Jones (now 90 years old), is much a celebrity for having written Soldado Descansa, probably the most definitive book on the history of the American Confederates and their descendants in Brazil. She is also aunt to Rita Lee, a famous musician and singer in Brazil. I also know that Allison is an engineer by profession. I look forward to learning more about him and his family. Image, that giraffe is me with Allison at the Belo Alter Hotel. I told him that I would be posting this pix in my Tropical Biodiversity blog. He jokingly remarked that it was okay, but not to put it under the monkey label.

Confederates - Allison Jones

From time to time I divert from plants and trees to report on descendants of the American Confederates, many of whom settled in this part of the world after the American Civil War. I've been neglect in searching out and interviewing many of these individuals. Most of the time I just bump into them by chance, or pick up on local news and events. Such was the case yesterday, when my wife, younger son and I pulled up into the shade of a tree next to the Belo Alter Hotel in Alter do Chão, where we were going to have lunch. A couple in a pickup parked there just seconds before us and we exchanged "good afternoon"as we got out of our vehicles. As I started walking towards the hotel, I noticed a decal of a Confederate flag on the rear window of the pickup. Inside the lobby of the hotel I asked the gentleman if, by chance, he was a Confederate. A big infectious smile appeared on his face as he recognized me from an encounter many years ago. When he identified himself as Allison Jones, it all came back. Well, nearly. His memory is much better than mine and he reminded me that that on that occasion I was touring with a former physician of the Ford Motor Company Hospital in Belterra. To my surprise, Allison and his wife, Eloise, have been living in Alter do Chão for the last two years. What brought them from their native Confederado community in Santa Barbara in the State of São Paulo to Alter do Chão? Well, I didn't ask, but I assume it was retirement. Attached image from left to right: Eloise Jones; my wife, Áurea; me; and Allison Jones. Next image, please.

Rose apple, continued

A carpet of fallen flowers cover the ground under a rose apple tree (Eugenia malaccensis).

Rose apple

Rose apple (Eugenia malaccensis) blooms, also at the Eymar Franco home.

Flowers

I photographed these flowers in the yard of Eymar Franco, who lives very close to Bosque Santa Lucia.

Muiratinga, continued

A few posts back I talked about the muiratinga tree (Maquira sp.) and the oddity of fallen branches from the tree. I attached an image of a caruara (the oddity) next to the trunk of the tree. I didn't realize at the time that the two would blend into one and the same because of the the fungi on both. Today I present another image of caruaras in a different setting. As a matter of fact, the two objects in the image aren't from the muiratinga tree next to the Bosque reception center. They are part of a wood collection at the center, pieces which have been around for a few years. I don't remember where they came from, but maybe from people who insist on playing jokes on newcomers.

From the unknown to the known

On occasion I show images of unknown trees and plants at Bosque Santa Lucia and I write off nomenclature as part of tropical biodiversity in the Amazon. Such was the case of the seedpod in the attached image. I didn't know the name of the tree myself; my caretaker didn't know the name; my neighbors didn't know the name; nobody knew the name, despite the fact that it was a beautiful tree with very unique seedpods. One local person took a stab at identifying it, but he turned out to be a trickster, who thought he would pull one on me. Well, most unknowns remain unknown, but deep inside I figure that there's always a possibility that someone out there might come to the rescue. Such was the case when Robin Foster at the Field Museum in Chicago happened to open my blog, I assume because he has a professional interest in tropical biodiversity. He posted a remark on this particular entry identifying the tree! The family is Flacourtaceae; and the genus is Lindackeria. I spent some hours researching these names on the internet and it's possible that the species is Paludosa, but I'm not qualified to say for sure. Regardless, I appreciate Robin having contacted me. He also made some additional identifications, which I'll be sharing with my readers. One of the little joys in life is learning the name of an unknown tree!

Colors of Cupuaçu

The new leaves of cupuaçu (Theobroma grandiflorum) sure present a lot of beautiful colors. I've seen a lot of the leaves, but I never remember seeing a color as intense as this one. It's hard to believe that when it matures a bit, it'll be just like any other green in the forest.

Rubber trees

I figure that there are around 200 old rubber trees (Hevea brasiliensis) on the Bosque Santa Lucia property. Most of them have been around for many years, maybe 50-70 years. I discover these two trees off a trail just last week. What impressed me were the very deep cuts on the trunk of the tree, much deeper than would normally be allowed in any rubber tapping operation. And they seem to be more recent, so I calculate that some woodman or tour guide is responsible.

Wild passion fruit, continued

Another bunch of passion fruit flowers and buds.

Wild passion fruit flowers

This passion fruit stem came developed from a huge vine that has been in the making for many years. It climbed high enough to the find the right amount of light to form buds and flowers.

Moth

This moth was taking a break on the front porch of the reception center. Some years ago I saw one of those giant moths, the size of a bird, on one of the walking trails. I'd love to see another one.

Cicadia, continued

Over the years, I never remember seeing so many discarded cicada skins, if that's the right word. They're everywhere. I haven't seen that many live ones, but the forest rings with the sound of them. I've probably said it before and I'll say it again, it's amazing how those creatures get out of that outside skeletal skin. In both images you can see the open area on the back where they emerge. And they leave a perfect image of themselves behind, including legs and even eyes. What a way to start all over!

Egg on the ground

I was just beginning my walking tour with Sister Alice, her two visiting brothers from the United States and Sister Mary Lou, when Alice spotted this bird egg on the ground next to the mumbaca palm. I guess what impressed me immediately was the size of the egg. The social flycatchers nest is real close to the palm, but the egg was much too large to have come from their nest. Cleuson told us it was probably a great ani egg, since he had spotted them in the palm over the last few days. I felt comfortable with that explanation, but then I wondered why the egg was on the ground. Somewhere in the back of my old feeble mind, I remember this big black bird having fame for impolitely asking other birds to hatch her eggs. I haven't researched this yet, but if it's true, then it's possible that the owners of the nest may have tossed the ani egg out. And all these blue marks on the egg? Scratches from the act of getting the egg out?

Mumbaca palms

Mumbaca (Astrocaryum gynaconthum) is one of our native palms at Bosque Santa Lúcia and there are plenty of them. We left two large clumps near the reception center, but we always warn visitors not to get too close. They have long, hard, sharp thorns that you won't forget anytime soon, if you don't heed the advise. The palm produces bunches of bright orange-colored fruit which monkeys and some birds like. I have never figured out how they manage to avoid all those thorns which cover the palms from head to food (ground to crown). Most recently we've noticed birds nesting in this particular clump of palms. Then yesterday a visitor, Sister Alice, spotted an egg on the ground, which could only have come from a nest up above. Image coming up.

Lake Maria, continued

As summer dries everything out, Lake Maria is showing its bottom side (smile). For those readers joining us more recently, the so-called "lake" is a low-land area that turned into a swamp about a year ago. The main road going to Bosque Santa Lúcia and some communities beyond passes right through the middle of the mud hole that takes on gigantic proportions during the rainy season. Except for large trucks, traffic came to a halt over the last several months. Even the soybean trucks had their share of breaking down and getting stuck as they moved harvest to the Mato Grosso mill, which appears in the upper right-hand portion of the image. Cargill sent in heavy equipment to lower the level of water, but it didn't help very much. Over the rainy season, I found myself stranded in the city quite often. There were times when I turned my small Fiat car into a boat by forcing it into the water, hoping that I would get to land on the other side before sinking into the mud. One time I hit a piece of timber someone had left in the mud, which tore up a tire. Our insurance company sent a tow truck to get us back to town. More recently, I've been invading the harvested soybean fields to get to the Bosque. Only last week did Lake Maria dry up enough that I could return to my normal route of getting to our forest reserve. All appeals to the local government have been met with deaf ears. I've talked to the Secretary of Tourism at least three times asking for help. Community representatives have made countless visits to the mayor's office asking for assistance. It seems that the city has been given the priority in terms of street building and maintenance. It's election year and votes are concentrated in the urban areas. Ah, again for new readers, I came to call this mud hole Lake Maria because our mayor's name is Maria. The idea isn't original with me. It's quite common here to refer to potholes and mud holes as someone's hole, normally naming the head of government.

Sunbaked

Well, here we are in September again. This one isn't any different than any other, in terms of weather. We're well into our summer (verão), which is the dry season for this part of the Amazon. It seldom rains, so it's very necessary to water plants and newly planted trees. What's different about this September is that we now have a well at Bosque Santa Lucia and electricity to run the pump. Plus, we now have a full time employee to get the water where it's needed. These are dramatic novidades for me because over the last 25 years I've kept things alive by literally hauling water from the city in whatever vehicle I had at the time. I couldn't begin to provide the water that plants needed. A liter here, a half-liter for this plant. This one doesn't get water today. So it went ... and needless to say, I lost many plants from season to season. It's now another world having a plentiful supply of water. Attached image: clay-like soils out in the open crack open this time of the year.