Seriously, how is it that 11 days prior, I was standing in my class teaching about the Texas Revolution, counting down the hours for my next adventure, wishing that my trip would be reaching my expectations, making packing lists, and hoping more than ever that time would not fly by. And now, I was standing under the gazebo in the middle of the Amazon, with the most amazing guy in the world, waiting to see something that I only had a small percent chance to actually see.
As I was waiting for William to finish getting ready, I looked out from the netted window and breathed in the smell of fresh rain in the rainforest. As beautiful as the rain was, I was wishing it would disappear. William was moving slower than a sloth and I started having flashbacks of receiving a National Geographic magazine with beautiful, colorful macaws flying on the cover.
The night before, while we were saying our goodnights to the staff, Listen told me to cross my fingers that it didn't rain tomorrow. If it rained then we would not be able to see the birds at the clay lick. That morning, our last morning, William and I woke up at 4:00 am, before any of the staff (except Listen, our guide) and sleepily put our clothes on and brushed our teeth as we listened to the rain bounce off the cedar log roof of our cabin. I wasn't disappointed. I was in denial. And apparently, William was too. Either that or he was still halfway asleep and did not realize it was pouring outside. I remembered the days when I was a little girl and my dad would play cards with his friends and just as I would get bored from watching and try to leave, my dad would make me wait until after his turn because he thought I brought him good luck. I put my long, now yellow, socks on and told myself that I was lucky. I would somehow see the birds at the clay lick.
Listen arrived at our cabin, promptly at 4:30 a.m.. I was sure he was going to tell us to go back to sleep, and that we could always come back to this corner of the world and see it another time. Instead he came to escort us down to the boat. In a somber voice, his words exactly were, "Good morning friends. It is raining. But, we will try and hope." Panchos on, we walked down the slippery, muddy steps to get into the boat. We soared off on the Amazon river and ten minutes later we arrived at another wooden staircase built into the edge of a muddy wall-our path up to the clay lick. We hiked up and the rain had stopped, but the dark skies were not promising. We walked through brush and trees to a cute little hut built into the side of a tree. We were up high! We looked out and about 50 feet in front and below us was the edge of a cliff. That was the clay lick. We were told to be silent and still. An hour later, the only noise I heard was the sound of chirping birds from afar as William and I tried to cover up yawn after yawn.
I had given up on the clay lick. I just wanted to sleep. I sat with my head on my fist. One eye closed, the other one open. Listen leaned over and said, "I hear parakeets." A swarm of parakeets came and sat in a nearby trees. Exciting? Kind of. I mean it was amazing to see so many fly. But, once they landed, they were impossible to see in the green trees. It was, however, fun to hear them chirping and moving around. 10 minutes later Listen, in disbelief, chirped, "Look parrots!" as he frantically turned the pages of his parrot encyclopedia to show me what exact breed it was. Blue headed parrot, if you are interested. The parrots sat in another tree, never in the same trees as the parakeets. A few minutes later, another species of parrots came. Then came 3 green and blue macaws. For the next 20 minutes we saw them fly into the trees in front of us, and it got much louder. I realized that we had been there much longer than we anticipated, but Listen was determined that if the birds didn't get scared, or spot a predator that they would go to the clay lick. He was right.
One brave little parakeet decided to take the plunge. He flew down, as swift as a jet and grabbed onto the clay lick to get his share of the minerals his body needs in order to eat the poisonous berry that is the main part of his diet. The berries they eat have toxic poisons, and the only way they can digest these poisons is if they get the minerals from the clay lick. Once the little guy got on the clay lick, the birds stopped chirping and watched him for a minute. It was neat how they all stopped chirping and watched the parakeet closely. I was sort of disappointed that only one bird was going to be on the clay lick...but at least it was better than nothing. Then before I knew it every bird was trying to get onto the clay lick. Parrots, Parakeets, Macaws! Everywhere! More flew in and waited in the trees. There were beautiful vines gracefully dangling from the cliff and the birds couldn't all fit on the clay lick at once, so they playfully swung on the vines, waiting patiently. They swung back and forth, sang their hearts out, and scratched one another's heads. I couldn't believe it! I finally was sitting here, in a camouflaged hut in the trees, in the middle of the Amazon, watching my favorite birds enjoy life in their natural habitat. I was astonished that so many beautiful birds could be in one place at a time and thought to myself that this is the picture that should have been the cover of the National Geographic my dad bought me.
This trip did not meet my expectations. It surpassed them. I am truly grateful that I was able to go to Peru with William, and even more grateful that the birds came out on an ugly morning. At one point there were so many birds that Listen spoke up (there was no way the birds could hear us over their loud chirping!) and straight up said, "You guys are so lucky! We don't even see this on a good day, and today it rained and you get to see this. So amazing!"
I agreed. So amazing.
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