This is the second story in a special three-part series on microplastics in the Amazon. Read the first part here. MANAUS, Brazil — In Amazonian waters, the pirarucu lives between two worlds. In the oxygen-depleted waters typical of floodplain lakes, this giant fish rises to the surface to breathe air. Over an evolutionary history spanning at least 100 million years, it developed a modified swim bladder that functions as a primitive lung. This rare adaptation has allowed it to thrive in environments that are too harsh for other fish species. Today, however, the very adaptation that ensures its survival makes it vulnerable to a new threat: Microplastic pollution. “Amazonian environment is already highly challenging,” said Adalberto Val, a biologist and head of the National Institute of Science and Technology for Adaptations of Aquatic Biota of the Amazon (INCT-Adapta). “Here we have high temperatures, low oxygen levels in the water … Organisms already respond to these challenges as they learned during the evolutionary process. Then we start adding new challenges, like plastic.” When breathing becomes a risk Pirarucus (Arapaima gigas) cannot survive for more than 10 minutes without surfacing for air. They rely on an air-breathing organ connected to their modified swim bladder, a necessity that puts them in direct contact with microplastics floating at the surface. Drawing on established knowledge about the species, Val and researchers from the University of British Columbia in Canada published an article outlining the dangers of this exposure. When microplastics enter the pirarucu’s air-breathing organ,…This article was originally published on Mongabay

IBIRAMA-LA KLÃNÕ INDIGENOUS TERRITORY, Brazil — Zág, pronounced “zã,” is the Xokleng word for the Brazilian pine. This tree species, Araucaria angustifolia, is typical of the Atlantic Forest that runs along Brazil’s south and southeastern coast, and has been evolving on the planet for about 200 million years. Each female tree produces dozens of cones, which in turn carry hundreds of seeds. Known in Brazil as pinhão, the Brazilian pine seed is a nut eaten by at least 22 animal species as well as humans, who rely on it for both nutrition and income. For some Indigenous peoples, however, it means more than food. It’s part of their culture, history, and origin myths. That’s the case for the Xokleng people, also known as the Laklãnõ, in what is today Santa Catarina state. In their villages, people are even named after the tree. “Brazilian pines are sacred to us,” says Carl Gakran, executive director of the Zág Institute. “You can’t tell the story of our people without speaking of them. Our creation myth says the protective animal was made from that tree, so it appears in the very first story.” Carl decided to do something for the pines in 2016, after learning that the species was critically endangered as a result of deforestation, urban expansion, and logging. Currently, Brazilian pine forests are estimated to cover less than 3% of their original range, which once stretched across much of the states of Paraná, Santa Catarina and Rio Grande do Sul, with small patches…This article was originally published on Mongabay

SÃO SEBASTIÃO, Brazil — In front of the house where she has lived for decades, Cosma da Silva points to nearby homes in her Itatinga neighborhood and lists a string of cancer cases. “There’s a woman with cancer over there. Another one lives in that building. And yet another one there [points at the place]. People in this area only die of cancer.” She sees illness as an integral part of the neighborhood’s landscape and includes her own family in the tally. Her husband Paulo José da Silva died at age 51 from a brain tumor. Cosma herself recently underwent surgery to remove a nodule. As she deals with the consequences of the treatment — a wound that burns and itches on the side of her chest — she continues to observe several sick relatives, neighbors and acquaintances. The connection between these cases and the environmental contamination that has marked Itatinga’s history has never been proven or investigated the way residents expected it to be. From the 1970s to the 1980s, part of the neighborhood was used for the disposal of oily sludge associated with oil exploration. Years later, homes were built on the land. Environmental investigations by public agencies found contaminants in the soil and groundwater. For almost 20 years, documents from the São Paulo State Environmental Company (CETESB), the State Prosecution Service (MPE), the Federal Prosecution Service (MPF) and Petrobras itself — the Brazilian state-controlled oil company, which the investigations accused of being responsible for the disposal — pointed to toxic substances…This article was originally published on Mongabay

POTIGUAR BASIN, Brazil — On the estuary beaches where the Atlantic Ocean mixes with freshwater rising from mangrove soils, the shorebird known as the red knot has a single goal: to feed. While one member of the flock keeps watch, the others use their specialized, tireless beaks to capture clams, oysters, snails and earthworms that inhabit the muddy soils. Soon the time to migrate will come, and the birds must double their weight to endure the long trip. Each May, after spending the previous eight months in the coastal wetlands of Brazil’s shoreline and in Argentina’s Tierra del Fuego, at the far south of South America, red knots (Calidris canutus) begin a long return flight to the Northern Hemisphere. Their final destination is the cold, desert-like Arctic tundra. It’s there, during the northern summer, between June and August, that they breed. Even before the journey starts, on the beaches of Macau, Guamaré and Galinhos — coastal municipalities dotted throughout Brazil’s Potiguar Basin — observers can see a sign of their preparation: the birds’ chests display a reddish color typical of nuptial plumage. Among migratory birds, the red knot is one of the longest-distance travelers. It flies for about six days and six nights without sleeping, eating or drinking. After leaving Brazil, it will cover roughly 8,000 kilometers (5,000 miles) to its next stop: Delaware Bay, on the northeastern coast of the U.S. From there, the journey continues toward the Arctic; over a year, the round trip may cover 30,000 km (nearly 19,000…This article was originally published on Mongabay

“One of the world’s largest pharmacies is being destroyed,” says Benki Piyãko, a leader of the Ashaninka Indigenous people in the Brazilian state of Acre. The warning points to multiple threats advancing on the Amazon but also to growing debate surrounding one of the so-called forest medicines: ayahuasca. This Indigenous beverage with psychedelic properties is usually prepared from two native plants: the caapi vine or mariri (Banisteriopsis caapi) and the leaves of the chacrona plant (Psychotria viridis). According to Indigenous leaders and experts, these species are facing increasing pressure and signs of scarcity in some areas. Called kamarãpe by the Ashaninka people, ayahuasca has been used by Indigenous peoples across the Amazon for centuries. It has crossed borders for decades, ceasing to circulate exclusively in its original contexts. Today, it can be found in urban religious centers, therapeutic retreats, and international psychedelic tourism circuits. Scientists and pharmaceutical companies are also turning their attention to this ancestral beverage, which already shows evidence of therapeutic potential for different mental health disorders such as depression and substance addiction. But increasing global interest is also creating concerns. As demand grows, so has the ayahuasca supply chain, without a corresponding growth in management or oversight. In different parts of the Amazon, there are signs of pressure on the species used to prepare the beverage, often collected without planning. At the same time, increasing consumption in nontraditional contexts raises concerns about ancestral knowledge being commodified for the market. The main problem seems to lie in how…This article was originally published on Mongabay