It is Sunday 16th March and I have woken up in a substantial amount of pain. This hay mattress is not for me – I think it may be an old one. It has compactified over time and is now comparable to sleeping on a rock. Despite being 6am, I am quite keen to get out of bed so that I can stretch. In other news, today is the day of my first walk with Gaia. The long term volunteers have learned over time that she prefers to be walked first thing, so myself, Adi and Val need to set off from camp by 7am to go and see her. I will miss annuncios today, as well as the chance for more French toast. I eat my plain, dry bread and chug back an instant coffee before hitting the trail. We arrive at the enclosure by 8am and I observe Val getting Gaia on her lead. This involves passing a rope with a carabiner through the gap between the door and the fence and clipping it to her collar. Adi then takes one rope and stands behind where the door will pivot open. Val stands in front, with a second rope attached to his waist, and takes a few steps backwards. We then open the door and let Gaia come out when she is ready. Val leads and Adi and I follow behind, with me watching her every move, learning how one walks a wild cat. The walk is slower than I had anticipated. Everything is done on Gaia’s terms. If she wishes to stop, we pause and Adi yells “stop” so Val knows to wait. If she wishes to explore off trail, we allow her to do so, with Adi shouting “explore”. If she goes too far off the trail and there is a risk of her getting caught in vines and bushes, a small amount of tension is applied to the ropes so that she knows to stop. We call this blocking. The whole process is performed with the goal of allowing Gaia to be as free as possible, subject to the volunteers’ and her own safety.

After a couple of hours, and a few mid-trail sit downs, we make it back to the enclosure and she shows herself in. We unclip her and use the remainder of the session to do jobs around the enclosure and make some enrichment. We then head back to camp, arriving early at 11:30am. With the extended lunch break, I take the opportunity to wash my clothes. There is an outdoor sink outside my room. Here, we can fill tubs with water and then wash our clothes by hand. Back when I was here last time, we’d then hang our clothes up on the washing lines in the sun and collect them again a few hours later. Now, the clothes linger for days. I make a point of hanging mine in the direct sunshine, away from the shelter, so that they dry fast. I can keep an eye on them for the next two hours at least. As I am scrubbing my underwear with soap, the trees above me can be heard rustling and I look up to find a small group of capuchins exploring the rainforest that engulfs the camp. I may not be working with monkeys this time around, but being able to observe them in their natural environment is an equally special experience.

Following lunch, I then set out to address the most pressing issue in my life at present: the bed. I don’t think I can handle another sleepless night and further back pain. I head into Cochabamba, effectively the park’s charity shop, and purchase a blanket for 30B. I then take my bedsheet off and place this and my unzipped sleeping bag between this and the hay mattress. I also purchase a thicker pillow. A quick lie down instantly verifies that this was a good financial investment. I may still be sleeping in a room of five people in 30 degree heat tonight, but at least I’ll be slightly more comfortable.

2pm approaches and it is time for the afternoon shift. Marine is still ill and Val is occupied with other activities this afternoon, so I am unable to see Kusiy. We need a minimum of three training sessions before we are trusted on our own. Having worked with a jaguar before, I do feel very confident with Kusiy, though admittedly, I have no confidence at all in finding my way to his enclosure. I am therefore not disappointed to learn that this afternoon I will be made useful by working with the camp animals instead. I am working with Pablo, Tania and Jost and pair myself with Jost, given his proficiency in English and the fact that I have no idea what is going on so really need to be able to understand who I am working with. He takes me to the bird enclosure and we start by clearing up their scraps from the lunchtime feed. I am impressed that he can distinguish each macaw from another and knows them all by name. Sanderson is his favourite as she is the only one who has never given him any grief. Brandon, on the other hand, is an arsehole. This is something that I learn very quickly as he blocks our exit by perching himself on the door of the enclosure. The mandatory jobs are done fairly quickly with the birds, and Jost then invites me deeper into the jungle to a good spot for vines, where we collect a few with a machete, before heading back to work on some enrichment. Enrichment is anything that provides some form of entertainment to the animals. It can be the introduction of new scents, encouraging them to work for their food or just a new toy or structure to play with. Enrichments have been trialled and tested and there are strict rules on what can and can’t be done, as not to cause any detriment to the animal. In the case of toys and structures, everything must be made of organic materials. For the birds today, I twist up some vines into a ring and carefully tie it to a branch in the enclosure, with the hope that they may use it to swing on. Brandon has other ideas. As I finish assembling the structure, he gradually hops along and starts nibbling at the vine securing it to the branch. After about five minutes, the ring is on the floor. Jost says that this is fundamentally good because at least he has actually used it. We then leave the birds to it and head over to the coatis.

I know about coatis. When I had previously visited, there used to be one who was inexplicably allowed to roam freely around the camp. I say “inexplicably” because no one liked him. He would perch himself on a tree outside my room that had started leaning parallel to the ground. He would rest and look all cute. He’d then bite anyone who came within a foot of him. Nasty bites too. He’d chew on your hand for a bit. Unpleasant.  He has since passed away. The coatis now live in cages, each with access to a large enclosure and are far more friendly this time around. With nothing else to do, Jost and I take one for a walk. He gives me the ropes and lets me do the honours. We have a leisurely stroll along the trail and bump into Pablo and Tania ahead of us, each also walking a coati. We then eventually return to their home, which they happily stroll back into.

The final task of the day is to prepare dinner for the birds. We head to the animal kitchen and divide up some peanuts and green beans. We then head back to their enclosure and begin delivering the meal plates to each of their individual bedrooms. This job ends by shutting each bird into their respective dorm for the night. There is some kerfuffle as some birds chase a plate and head into a dorm which is not their own. Unsurprisingly, this is all started by Brandon – the avian troublemaker. With Jost’s impressive ability to distinguish each bird, we eventually guide them all into their respective quarters and bid them good evening, before heading back to camp ourselves.

Rain arrives as we do, and I hastily put my washing away before my evening shower. Later on, as we are just finishing dinner, Jenn asks for a group of volunteers. The rain has persisted all evening, with high winds accompanying it, and a tree has fallen down in the road. Jenn wants to move it before someone has an accident and needs some bodies. My only reluctance is putting on my sodden wellies again and getting my feet wet, but in the team spirit, I make this personal sacrifice and get involved. Under the instruction of Felipe, Jenn’s husband, we each grab a machete and pile into the back of the pickup truck for a short journey down the road. This feels like old times again. I’ll never forget the day that we rode in the back of the truck with machetes and jerrycans of water to put out a fire that was spreading into the park nearby. Such a circumstance feels impossible now with the daily downpours, but the forest fires have become an increasingly frequent issue for the park in recent years. Before, we could always handle them by nipping it in the bud early and keeping fire trails well-maintained. Now, the flames rage quickly in the dry season, and volunteers have been woken in the night with the need to evacuate their dorms. Most of these fires are started illegally by farmers to clear space for farming. The consequence of which is that the Amazon is burning and is now releasing more carbon dioxide each year than it captures.

Felipe stops the truck at the scene of the tree collapse and we all pile out. Machetes swing back and forth, breaking the branches into smaller pieces for lifting. Felipe handles the larger sections with his chainsaw. We then lift the smaller branches to carry them into the bush, only to find an infestation of fire ants crawling along the wood. Following a few unwelcome bites, our second plan is to kick the wood until it is off the road. With a decent joint effort, the job is done quickly and we hop back into the truck and head home to bed. I sleep significantly better on my newly fashioned setup, but it’s still too hot though.

It is Monday 17th March. Gaia is not walking today so we will leave at 9am like everyone else. This means that I am on the viable list of candidates to help around the camp. Everyone has a morning job. Some mornings, you’re emptying the bins, others you may be sweeping and on some, you’re cleaning the toilets or “baños”. Today, I am on breakfast duty with Pablo and Marine. Each day, for 5B, we have the option to upgrade from two slices of bread to something more exciting, such as French toast, a toasted sandwich, or in today’s case, the addition of a boiled egg. We are to boil the eggs and prepare the coffee for everyone. I quickly lose interest in the prospect of eggs when I learn that we boil them for 10 minutes. Horrific.

Following a nutritional start  of two small slices of bread slathered in jam (I bought my own jam), Adi and I head to see Gaia. As before, the walk there is boggy and we struggle to shift ourselves through the swamp. Nevertheless, we make it and Gaia is waiting for us in her enclosure. We make pleasantries before completing a few laps of her home and then spend most of the morning having a sit down with her. It is very sunny today and cats are often somewhat lethargic in the sun. We use the opportunity to work on some enrichment, before entering the enclosure to tidy up, change her water and hide her food around.

One can never trust the weather here, with rain arriving with a moments notice. We make it back to camp and I quickly get my washing out from yesterday ready for its second round of drying. I daren’t have left it unsupervised this morning, though, in hindsight, it would have been fine. Come 2pm, I put the clothes away again and set off with Marine, now that she is feeling better. In no time at all, we find ourselves in a monsoon, with our clothes drenched from head to toe in a matter of seconds. We arrive at Kusiy’s enclosure and I ask Marine what he is like in the rain, half expecting that he’ll stay under his shelter this afternoon, taking little interest in us. Her response is “dynamic”. We walk over to the fence and evidence for her claim is quickly provided. He is having a whale of a time today, with a proper spring in his step. We do countless laps of the enclosure and he plays joyfully in the puddles. Marine has a sit down for the latter half. Having only just recovered from a five day miscellaneous jungle virus, keeping up with Kusiy’s energy is proving a little challenging.

The one joy of the heavy rain is that the mosquitos go away for a bit. The downside is that they then come back in their masses afterwards. We walk home, both with our mosquito net hats back on. It is hard to imagine life without these, but we managed back in July 2016, when it was dry season. I have also started wearing gloves as means of protecting my hands. We arrive back at camp and I am eaten alive by the creatures as I wait outside for the showers. The showers are pretty basic. The water is unheated, which is tolerable in this climate, but the floor is always muddy, so one has to live with the fact that their feet will never be clean. Furthermore, there are only two of them for about thirty people, so we have to be quick.

Finally feeling slightly clean, though admittedly still damp, I head into the Comedor for dinner. As is the case on most nights, dinner tonight is wet, soupy pasta. Delicious. Shortly after we finish though, the lights are cut and someone starts singing “happy birthday”. Iban turned 25 on Saturday. I made a point of not spending my birthday here. Nine years ago, your special day was marked by people throwing eggs and flour at you. Now, there’s cake. Again, I am accepting of this change. Iban blows out his candle and I wonder if there will be enough cake for me to get involved and have a slice of the action. The lights then return and I notice an entire tray of cake sitting behind me, with enough for us to pretty much have a standard sized cake each. I wonder how it will ever be possible for this cake to get eaten, but somehow, we manage it. The work here is labour intensive and it is amazing how much food one can put away. With a very satisfied belly, I then head back to my dorm and go to sleep.