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I Survived a Caiman Attack (And So Can You!)
Beep. Beep. Beep.
The alarm blared in my quiet room. I bounced out of bed at 5:30 am, wide awake. It was my first day recording the sounds of the swamplands.
I tip-toed out of the dorm, packed with sleeping scientists, and bounded towards the jungle. Yesterday, the Pantanal revealed a corner of paradise nestled in dense foliage. Today, the Miranda River was ready for her recital.
The Brazilian sun rose over the horizon. Light sleepily crept across the Pantanal; the tropics awoke in a collective yawn. Gradually, all of the jungle’s creatures joined in chorus, and I stood in awe, encircled in a tropical concert’s crescendo. From the canopy rang tweets, songs, and chitters. The haunting bays of howler monkeys echoed in the distance. Before me, water gently lapped at the river’s shore. All around, buzzed swarms of mosquitoes and rushed a cool, refreshing breeze.
The recording ended — my first successful audio clip! I packed my makeshift lab away in a shabby satchel and hesitated a moment, wishing to spend just a moment longer.
Splash.
