Photo of the Month (January 2025 Edition): Tamandua

Spotting large animals in the heart of the Amazon Rainforest isn’t easy. The dense vegetation provides plenty of cover, allowing animals to remain hidden or go unnoticed. Moreover, large human groups moving through the forest—like those I usually accompany—are detected from afar by other animals, making encounters with other mammals even more challenging. As a result, during my recent forest journeys, I’ve found it easier to admire the landscapes and small niceties than to hope for a sighting of any large animal.

Still, about fifteen years ago, I had the fortunate opportunity to come across a Harpy Eagle (Harpia harpyja) at its nest with a young chick. Every day, I would walk beneath the angelim tree, the tallest tree species in the Amazon, and from below, I could spot the largest bird of prey in Abya Yala perched high above.

More than a decade passed before I had the chance to see another large animal in the jungle. Roughly the same size as a Harpy Eagle’s wingspan and with a similar weight, this encounter came at the end of a long and exhausting field day.

It was the final day of an intense soil collection campaign. We had to walk for over an hour and a half, carrying all the field gear, conduct the physically demanding sampling process, and then return, trekking for nearly two hours while hauling around 20 kilos of soil—plus the field equipment. To make matters worse, daylight was fading, and we had to hurry to drive another hour and a half to catch the last ferry that would take us to Manaus that night. As if that weren’t enough, the suffocating heat of the Amazon nearly dehydrated one of our team members, adding to the tension on the way back.

The group, now reduced to just four people to optimize the work, trudged along—heads down, sweaty, and exhausted. I was at the back of the line when I heard a noise coming from the treetops and stopped. The guide leading the group, a man of few – if not any – words, also paused, looked to the side, pointed upward, and said, “Tamandua.”

Despite being in a hurry, I told the group, “Let’s wait a moment.” I set the soil samples down on the ground and rummaged through my backpack for the camera and lens. Meanwhile, the friendly Southern Tamandua (Tamandua tetradactyla), slow to notice our presence, moved among the treetops. These animals have an excellent sense of smell but poor hearing and eyesight, which allowed us to stand still and observe it for a while until it descended and disappeared into the underbrush.