Science, Adventure, and a Life-Changing Opportunity
Of all the volunteer projects and scientific adventures I have been fortunate enough to experience, spending four weeks with the Smithsonian Institution in the Peruvian Amazon remains one of the most extraordinary.
It combined everything that fascinated me: ecology, insects, reptiles, tropical forests, field science, helicopters, remote camps, conservation, and the chance to work beside people whose knowledge seemed almost unlimited.
The Opportunity
Four Weeks in the Peruvian Amazon
I originally went to Peru expecting to volunteer for two weeks with the Smithsonian Institution's Monitoring and Assessment of Biodiversity program. Once I arrived and became part of the field team, I was invited to remain for another two weeks. That gave me a full month deep in the Amazon rainforest, helping with a major biodiversity assessment in the Camisea region near Manu.
This was not a tourist trip or a visit to an established research station. Scientists, local guides, students, and volunteers were working together to document the plants and animals of an extraordinary region before large-scale development changed it. More than one hundred people from Peruvian and international organizations contributed to the work.
I was surrounded by people who had devoted their lives to understanding insects, reptiles, amphibians, birds, mammals, plants, aquatic systems, and the complicated relationships that hold a rainforest together. I felt incredibly fortunate just to be there and even more fortunate to be useful.
Reaching the Camp
A Research Station Built from the Jungle
The camp was established in a place with no road access. The first people going in reportedly rappelled from helicopters carrying machetes so they could clear enough vegetation to create a landing zone. After that, helicopters began bringing in the scientists, tents, food, laboratory equipment, fuel, and everything else needed to keep a temporary research community operating.
What began as a rough frame in the rainforest gradually became an excellent working laboratory. Every board, table, light, net, jar, microscope, and supply had to arrive by air. Black Hawk helicopters became a regular part of camp life, bringing supplies in and carrying carefully prepared specimens back out.
Being so isolated changed the meaning of ordinary things. A missing piece of equipment, a failed headlamp, or an injured person could not simply be handled with a quick trip into town. The camp had to be resourceful, organized, and constantly aware that the nearest major medical care was far away in Lima.
Entomology
Sorting a Rainforest One Insect at a Time
Most of my work was with the insect team. We collected, sorted, preserved, and cataloged an astonishing number of specimens—roughly one hundred thousand insects over the course of the project. The diversity was overwhelming. Even within groups that looked similar at first glance, the scientists could see differences in structure, behavior, and habitat that revealed just how much life was packed into the forest.
We worked with traps, collection bags, vials, labels, and long sorting sessions in the field laboratory. Some days were methodical and repetitive, but there was always the possibility that the next tray or sample might contain something unusual, something rarely collected, or perhaps a species that had never been formally described.
The experience completely changed the way I looked at insects. When I returned home and entered graduate school, the first course I chose was entomology. That decision came directly from what I had experienced in the Amazon.
Gorky, Tim, and the Director, Dr Alfonso Alonso clowning around while sorting ants and processing insect specimens.
Herpetology
Snakes, Frogs, Lizards, and Night Work
Although insects were my primary assignment, I also spent a great deal of time around the reptile and amphibian team. At night, biologists headed into the forest with headlamps and returned carrying bags containing frogs, lizards, snakes, and other animals that had to be identified, measured, documented, and prepared as scientific specimens.
I worked alongside experts such as Dr. Thomas Fritts and watched how carefully the team handled every animal and every record. Their attention to detail mattered because these collections were not souvenirs. They became voucher specimens—permanent scientific records that researchers could examine years or even decades later.
The fieldwork was exciting, but it also demanded respect. The rainforest contained animals capable of seriously injuring or killing us, and medical help was not close.
A Close Call
The Seven-Foot Bushmaster
The most dangerous moment of the entire project came when I nearly stepped on a seven-foot bushmaster lying asleep on the forest floor. I came within about three feet of it before realizing what was there.
The bushmaster is a highly venomous snake, and the isolation made the encounter even more serious. Transportation in and out of the region was entirely by helicopter. Had I been bitten, there was a very real possibility that I would not have survived long enough for medical assistance to arrive and fly me to Lima.
That photograph remains one of the most vivid reminders of how beautiful and unforgiving the rainforest could be. We were guests in an ecosystem where paying attention was not optional.
Life Beyond the Laboratory
Canopy Crews, Glowing Mushrooms, and Rainforest Nights
Some of the botanists worked high in the forest canopy and sometimes remained in the trees for long stretches. On one occasion, I hiked through the forest to deliver replacement headlamps so they could continue working safely. It was a small job compared with the scientific work they were doing, but that was how camp functioned—everyone helped wherever help was needed.
At night, the rainforest seemed to become an entirely different world. The sounds, insects, frogs, humidity, and darkness were intense. One of the unforgettable discoveries was seeing phosphorescent mushrooms glowing in the forest. I had never seen anything like them before.
Every evening brought new stories back to camp. Someone had found an unusual frog, an unfamiliar beetle, a snake, a plant from the canopy, or some other reminder that we were working in one of the richest biological communities on Earth.
Why the Work Mattered
Creating a Scientific Record Before the Region Changed
The goal was to create baseline information about the distribution and abundance of life in the Camisea region. Teams studied vegetation, aquatic systems, invertebrates, amphibians, reptiles, birds, and mammals at well sites and along the Camisea and Urubamba rivers.
That baseline mattered because the region faced major development. Without careful documentation, it would be impossible to measure what changed, what disappeared, or which habitats were most vulnerable.
Many of the specimens collected during the expedition became part of museum and research collections. Some may still be studied today. The possibility that we were helping document species new to science made every label, vial, measurement, and field note feel important.
Looking Back
An Experience That Helped Shape My Career
Looking back, I can see how strongly those four weeks influenced the direction of my life. The project reinforced my love of ecology, introduced me to remarkable scientists, inspired me to study entomology in graduate school, and helped prepare me for the field biology and environmental work that followed.
Eventually, that path led to my twenty-one-year career with the U.S. Geological Survey as a hydrologic technician and field biologist. The Amazon project was not the only step along that road, but it was one of the most powerful.
More than anything, the experience taught me that conservation begins with curiosity and careful observation. Before we can protect a place, we have to understand what lives there, how it is connected, and what could be lost. I remain deeply grateful that I was given the chance to contribute, even briefly, to that work.
The Continuing Legacy
A Project That Still Matters Today
Looking back more than a quarter century later, I appreciate this experience even more than I did at the time.
What I participated in was not simply a volunteer trip into the rainforest. It was part of one of the Smithsonian Institution's landmark biodiversity assessment projects—an international effort to document one of the most biologically rich regions on Earth before large-scale natural-gas development transformed the landscape.
More than one hundred scientists, students, local guides, and researchers worked together to build a detailed biological record of Peru's Lower Urubamba region. Teams specializing in insects, plants, fish, amphibians, reptiles, birds, mammals, aquatic systems, and landscape ecology carefully documented what was living there and created a baseline that future researchers could use to measure change.
Many of the specimens we collected became permanent voucher specimens in scientific collections. Those specimens allow scientists to verify identifications, compare populations over time, and continue learning from work that began in temporary field camps deep in the Amazon. Some of the organisms collected were believed to be new to science, while many others filled important gaps in our knowledge of one of the world's richest ecosystems.
The Smithsonian's assessment work also helped demonstrate how carefully designed biological inventories could grow into long-term monitoring programs. Later programs in Peru continued remeasuring species, habitats, and environmental conditions so that changes caused by development or natural processes could be identified and addressed.
For me personally, those four weeks changed the direction of my life. They strengthened my passion for ecology, inspired me to study entomology in graduate school, and helped prepare me for a twenty-one-year career as a hydrologic technician and field biologist with the U.S. Geological Survey.
Even today, when I think back on the Amazon, I do not first remember the helicopters, the bushmaster, or even the thousands upon thousands of insects we sorted. I remember the feeling of working beside people who were deeply curious about the natural world and completely dedicated to understanding and protecting it. Their enthusiasm was contagious, and I carried a little of it home with me. It has stayed with me ever since.
Authoritative Resources
Learn More About the Project
These links lead to Smithsonian and Camisea resources about the original Lower Urubamba assessments, the long-term monitoring programs that followed, and the scientists who helped lead them.
Photo Gallery
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Alfonso Alonso clowning around while sorting ants and processing insect specimens." loading="lazy">