Exploring the Pantanal

With amber eyes catching the mid-day sun, the jaguar lounges on a branch, paws hanging low over waterlilies where jacanas prance and donacobius birds balance on reed stems of stark jade green. 

A merciless sun burns my neck and flies tickle where the sleeve of a long-cotton blouse ends to expose skin. The arm stays still, however, as the jaguar gets up on her haunches, her rosetted hide stretched over impressive shoulder-blades, and she jumps into the river. This time, the caiman escaped. Shaking off water much like a dog, she immediately resumes cat-like character by haughtily strutting past the six boats carrying people from all over the world who have come to the Parque Nacional do Pantanal Matogrossense to watch the world’s largest jaguar in their habitat.

Once a most elusive big cat, celebrated in lore and feared by the vaqueros, the cowboys of Brazil, jaguars have come to meet human kind (or vice versa) in the very centre of South America, the Pantanal. Here, in the world’s largest tropical flood-plane, a region of roughly 150,000 square km, jaguars reign supreme. The wetlands go through an annual circle of inundation and desiccation from rains of the high plains that drain into the Paraguay River system. Now it’s August and we’re in the dry season when roots along riverbanks are exposed like so many gnarled fingers reaching for water. 

We had started the day at dawn as birds flew in from every direction; hyacinthe macaws, roseate spoonbill, caracaras and egret traveling over purple skies under the rolling, spooky sounds of howler monkeys that cloak the forest with their drumming vocals. First light hit the piuva trees in bloom, turning their pink blossoms into a fantasy land creation where cotton-candy grows on branches, ever sweeter with the intensifying hues of the waking morning. 

The Pantanal teems with wildlife and a lucky visitor can find smaller cats like the ocelot and jaguarundi, reptiles like the striking yellow anaconda or the crafty giant river otters that hunt along the rivers loudly snacking on armoured catfish, as well as tapirs, giant anteaters and tamanduas. Pantanal bird-life is unparalleled, if not in number, then in density. River or grassland, any moment it’s perfectly feasible to spot half a hundred of the 740 different bird species. From the mighty jabiru stork of a wing-span of 2.8 metres in males, to the tiniest hummingbird, colourful feathers fleck and buzz the habitat like lightning-fast stitching across a tapestry of greenest silk.

Past noon we had found our jaguar: Dozing on a favourite perch along the Cuiabá River, she moved her head from one side to the other every ten minutes or so until an hour had passed and she started to hunt.

Jaguar comes from an indigenous word of the Guarani tribe meaning “she who kills in one leap.” And her demonstration of immediate action out of a soporific state proved her name true.

Because of their habit of killing prey by the neck, the jaguar’s jaw muscles are the strongest of any of the big cat’s and are responsible for their own thick neck where these muscles come together. Their back has a peak above the rib-cage, unlike their cousin, the leopard, whose back describes a downward curve. A further distinguishing mark is the small black dots in the middle of the rosettes of their fur pattern and a black tip of the tail. Jaguars like water and they are active any time of day as a quick swim will cool them in 45 degrees heat.

There’s no doubt the jaguar is a creature of beauty and for big cat enthusiast’s like myself, top of the wish-list of species to see. The thrill of a first encounter is unparalleled, but having always only seen prints of jaguars throughout Central America and along the Amazon, I had to come to the Pantanal to spot the spotty cats. 

The national park was established in 1984 to protect a habitat equalled in diversity only by the Amazon, but much more accessible, especially once the Transpantaneira highway was built – a 147 km rutted runway stretching across 120 bridges from Ponconé in the North to Porto Jofre in the South. The road helped establish a tourism industry which brings employment to an extent where some of the cattle ranches situated in the Pantanal region now make over 50% of their profit from paying guests. In the past, a cow taken by a jaguar would have started a hunt, ending with at least one of the cats deemed responsible killed. Nowadays, a jaguar alive brings in much more revenue than would be saved from the potential safeguarding of cows. 

In this sense, the confluence of rivers, inside the National Park, where the Cuiabá, the São Lourenço and Piquiri meet, is also a confluence of minds. Still endangered, the jaguar’s chances of extinction from hunting have lessened over the last decades as their worth has risen in a country where poverty is high and secure employment is valued. Our local expert guide, Sergio Freitas, who holds a doctorate in the taxology of river fish, hopes to convince the government that to avoid challenges from the ever-increasing number of visitors, a management plan for the park is essential. At the moment, boat drivers and guides work well together and jaguar sightings are shared to guarantee a great experience for all. Guests are quiet and something akin to a hush enwraps the boats that assemble in no time should a cat show close enough for photographers to fire their cameras from every angle. Once the jaguar disappears, the boats scatter and it’s possible to go for hours up and down the rivers without seeing another soul. 

It’s obvious that the cats do not care about the many pairs of eyes watching their every move. This latest generation of jaguars has grown up under scrutiny and their behaviour is not affected. Sergio hopes this peaceful state will be sustained by officially regulating the industry with capacity numbers and impact studies. He also hopes to incorporate more conservation lectures into national school curricula with an eye to the future. 

As we glide towards our house boat under a grenadine red sunset and trees turning charcoal black, the heat disperses too, and a welcoming breeze travels over the rivers, taking the day’s stories along with the egrets returning to roost and the howler monkeys climbing high into the crowns reaching for safety in the last light.