It is Sunday 23rd March. Today is a walking day for Gaia so we need to leave camp by 7am. Having visited Guarayos yesterday, I have some fruit that I can enjoy for breakfast and opt for a banana, followed by my token two pieces of bread of course. Val, Adi and I then convene at the start of the trail towards the cats and set off. It is a still morning. The sun is shining, but it is not overbearing. We arrive at Gaia and all kneel down to say hello. She engages and we give some affection, before she gets up again and begins to walk. Gaia is a lively character and often has the zoomies. In today’s instance, this excitement is present, but different than usual. Instead of doing entire laps of the enclosure, she completes a short sprint before returning back to the spot we greeted each other in, her eyes staring through us. We walk over to the management cage in the hope that she will join, but find ourselves without her company. It is not uncommon for her to do her own thing for a bit before deciding to go on her walk, but today, she remains in the original spot, somewhat fixated. Something is distracting her. We ponder over and investigate. There is nothing to be seen. Can she smell something that we can not? Has another predator been nearby whilst we were away yesterday? There are no paw prints to be seen in the soft mud. Val then points at a tree shadowing her enclosure. Amongst the shrubbery, a long arm with pointy claws can be seen. It’s a sloth. Gaia noticed him long before we did. This is why she is not joining us. Why would she come on a walk when there is a sloth to stare at?

With the realisation that there is no hope in getting Gaia over to her management cage today, we decide to make ourselves productive by heading onto her trail anyway and tidying things up with a machete. With frequent storms and heavy rain, branches often fall and block off the routes. It is good to stay on top of this. Furthermore, allowing the sloth a bit of space, from us at least, may give him the confidence to vacate, albeit very slowly. We stroll along the trails, pulling away the low hanging vines and chopping at the newly formed trip hazards that have formed along the ground. Some time later, we return to Gaia to find that the sloth is gone. Thank goodness.

If this initial drama had not been enough for one morning, we then hear news that there are locals strolling through the forest foraging cocoa. This is not allowed, given that the park owns the land, and the situation is certainly not ideal with people walking cats everywhere. We spend some time keeping watch just to ensure that they do not approach Gaia’s enclosure before heading back for lunch. Despite our 7am departure, we don’t return until after midday, but even with the shorter lunch break, I still manage to use my time wisely by switching room. Volunteers have left the neighbours’ dorms and we have gone from having an even split to having five people in our room and two each in the rooms next door. I carry my bits over and inherit a lower bunk from the recently departed Nico. My new room mates are Adi, who I walk Gaia with, and Fabri, the first person I had a proper conversation with when I arrived two weeks ago. Once I am settled, I then head to the Comedor, where Crystal has rebalanced the Candy Shop accounts. Despite having only been here a short while, I am already in 150B of debt. I just like chocolate. I resettle this and then get ready for lunch.

As I am collecting the meat bucket from the freezer and filling up the water bottles for Kusiy, rain begins to pour down. We are in for a wet one. My afternoon working buddy, Marine, is not present yet, but I can see that Kusiy’s keys have already been collected, so she must be around somewhere. This is unusual, though, as usually I am ready before her and naturally collect them myself. Five minutes later, she rocks up and we begin to walk. I double check if she has the keys and she says no. Oh dear. Kusiy has morning volunteers visit him too. The keys’ absence must mean that they forgot to put them back and have wondered off into the jungle with them. With neither of them answering the phone, Marine and I decide to ask Cleo, the cat coordinator, who is currently enjoying her day off. She kindly presents us with a spare pair of keys, hopeful that they will work, but suggesting that if they do not, we should simply throw the meat packages over the fence. She is quite adamant that whoever is responsible for this will be on the baños task tomorrow morning, which involves burning the entire camp’s used toilet paper from the day before.

With a set of keys to hand, Marine and I head off into the wet jungle. As usual, Kusiy is energetic in the rain, but with the sky quickly clearing and the sun beginning to shine, he then descends into lazy cat mode. This gives Marine and I a chance to pursue our termite search inside his enclosure. We close him in his management cage, where he is happy resting, then head inside. I shuffle up the ramps leading up to his higher platforms, which is not as easy for a human as it is for a cat, with me occasionally slipping on account of the wet surface and the smooth soles on my wellies. Despite not finding any termites, the exercise is not in vein, as I discover where Kusiy likes to hide his bones. Marine passes me the empty meat bucket and I fill this up with the scraps from the platform, ready to be taken to the bone hole later this afternoon.

With the sun now shining brightly and a lingering humidity present following the rain, I return to camp very sweaty. As usual, dinner follows a brief, cold shower, where the setting sun and dingy room mean that I do not get the chance to check my body for rashes, fungus, ticks and other ailments. Dinner tonight is nothing special, but Don Victor has delivered his famous tucumanes again, so it is not all bad. Sufficiently fed, I head off to sleep.

With yesterday’s morning with Gaia having been unsuccessful on account of the sloth, today we wake up at 6am with the aim to try walking again. If we are successful, this will push the week a day out of sync and Gaia will still receive her three weekly strolls. We aim to leave at 7am, but as usual, this turns into 7:15am and Cleo kindly reminds us that we should be leaving on time. Slightly embarrassed, we begin the journey to the enclosure, and this time, manage to get her in the management cage in no time at all. Today, I am on back rope and find myself taken aback when Gaia whizzes straight out of the cage. This is an important reminder that despite not being a massive cat, she is strong, and one needs all of their strength to pull her back if necessary. Gaia is not pleased that this outing needs to be done at a walking pace, but soon enough, settles down and enjoys her trip.

As we return to the enclosure, I notice that a massive bamboo inside of it has fallen on the management cage. I don’t like bamboos in the jungle. Unlike the bamboos one can find in garden centres back home, these are about 10cm thick and can grow several stories high. Furthermore, they produce small branches that are covered in spikes. I can’t count how many times my mosquito net hat has got caught in one of these. With Cleo’s consent, I climb the tunnel between Gaia’s management cage and main enclosure and hack away at the fallen plant with a machete. After a decent amount of work, the wood splits and Val and I remove the top part from the fenced roof. This has relieved the strain on her cage, but we will need to return soon with a ladder to do the rest.

On the walk home, we are treated to a sighting of a wild turtle pottering around in the vines by the path. A few minutes later, we then also discover the footprint of a wild cat along the trail. A little reminder that we are not alone in this forest. We share it with wild animals too, all finding sanctuary in this patch of jungle kept safe by the charity.

Following a dry and sunny morning, rain begins to trickle down as we return to camp, dampening our spirits once again. I find some joy in discovering that the chefs have fried plantains as a side dish for our lunch today. These are my favourites. At 1pm, half an hour after the meal starts, we are allowed to return for seconds and I use my bonus helping of the fruit to form a dessert, adding a few dollops of Bolivian chocolate spread on top. This is a spirit lifter. I then take a cheeky nap in the Fumador before heading to my afternoon’s work. With the lunchtime downpour, the water levels are high, and on our walk to Kusiy, Marine has the misfortune of falling over in the bog. We then enjoy our daily two hours with the most handsome jaguar in the park, before clearing more termite trails and collecting his hay in a sack that we have brought from camp. Kusiy is being treated to a new platform soon, so clearing the hay will help the construction workers.

As we are walking home, I also enjoy my turn of falling over in the bog, I suspect increasing Marine’s self-esteem. We then make the detour to the fire pit in order to burn the old hay. Relying on a solid fuel stove as my only form of heating, I am something of an expert at lighting fires. That, and I am secretly an arsonist. After a few failed attempts at getting a flame going, I borrow the lighter from Marine, grab a fistful of hay, and fold it in half to form a dense fire lighter. I then get this clump burning nicely and let it fall onto the remaining hay in the pile below. Job done.