But now they have another alternative, which you'll see in Chispero. Our shirts dampen with perspiration and water from the thick morning air. Falling rain reaches the forest floor by rolling down branches and trunks or falling in a fine spray. The calls of birds and choir of insects pierce the jungle as we pick our way around massive exposed tree roots. Our boots are sucked into the mud, then burped back out with every careful step we take.
Many puddles are deceptively deep and our pants are soon coated with mud.
For two hours we hike as the narrow, muddy trail leads us to our destination. Lines of leaf-cutter ants cross our path bearing triangular pieces of foliage that resemble tiny green sails. Soon we hear the sound of a chainsaw bellowing just ahead of us. Then, Villacres yells out a greeting in the local dialect to catch the cutters' attention during an intermission in the gasoline-powered noise. A few seconds later, someone yells back to let us know their whereabouts in the jungle maze.