Sue Kaufman, in the Peruvian Amazon

Sue Kaufman, a 20-year veteran of the business world, volunteers with several environmental organizations. She is soon to join Grist's board of directors. Here she chronicles her volunteer activities on a recent expedition with Earthwatch Institute to the Peruvian Amazon..

Life as an Earthwatch volunteer is starting to settle into a routine.

I work either in the morning (5:30 to 11:30) or the afternoon (11:30 to 5:30), either counting birds on the clay lick or observing scarlet macaw nests. In the morning or afternoon, when we are not working, the guides organize walks on the various forest trails -- they are excellent at spotting wildlife and have great knowledge of the forest ecosystem.

From 5:30 until 7:00 we have social hour, facilitated by beer and pisco sours. Then we have dinner, followed by a talk on an aspect of the research conducted at TRC or a night walk in the forest. Then we are off to bed about 9:00 in order to start again at 4:30 a.m. the next day.

I can see how my second (and last) week will both move laconically -- the days running together -- and seem like it went quickly when it is over. The culture of TRC is friendly and relaxed. This week it is inhabited by our group of 13 from Earthwatch, a handful of longer-term volunteers and other members of the research project, the capable and friendly lodge staff, an entomologist from Lima, a few tourists, and, of late, a British film crew making a documentary about the jungle.

One hears many discussions of the nests and everyone is generally aware of how many birds visit the clay lick on a given day. Our Earthwatch group spends a great deal of time describing our various wildlife sightings, trotting them out like baseball cards, poring over digital images on tiny camera screens.

On nights when it isn't raining, the entomologist sets up an electric bulb in front of a sheet outside the lodge. In no time, the sheet is covered with a huge variety of moths, beetles, cicadas, and other insect life. The entomologist is interested in a particular sort of beetle and he collects those from the sheet. Meanwhile, the research staff and other people run around gasping at various specimens and taking them over to nearby trees where they can photograph them au natural. A couple nights ago I asked Don if he thought that some of the bugs on the sheet were undocumented species. He translated my question to Juan, the entomologist, who was standing nearby.

"Claro," he replied without hesitation. Of course. What a place!

Although we are busy, life is calm and focused and I am already beginning to reflect on the questions I was posing on the plane here. I wondered how the partnership between the researchers and the native community was working as a strategy (one I believe is necessary) for conservation. Clearly something quite impressive is going on.

A Peruvian company, Rainforest Expeditions, is running two eco-lodges, one in partnership with the native community. The other houses a research facility to which they contribute space and funding. The research team, led by Donald Brightsmith (who is both research director for Rainforest Expeditions and a research associate with Duke University), integrates scientists from the U.S. and Peru as well as volunteers and staff from the local community, elsewhere in Peru, and the U.S. Based on my first week here, it appears to me to integrate them quite seamlessly. I saw the bartender looking at the list of nests in the dining room and discussing them with a guide and a Peruvian veterinarian.

Secondly, I hoped to understand the significance of the research I would be involved in. After a week here, I am still wondering about the value, from an environmental perspective, of focusing on a single species -- in this case, one that is neither threatened nor endangered, at least not here. And though parrots and macaws are incredibly beautiful birds, they are not a keystone of the ecosystem. They are seed predators, not dispersers; they are not even a regular dinner for anyone.

However, they are a flagship species. They are the kind of species that, with their charm, can save entire ecosystems. Here, they form the basis of an impressive ecotourism partnership with the native community. And I remember that the parrot family, psittacidae, is one of the most endangered families of birds in the world. The techniques being learned on macaws here could be used to save other parrot populations throughout the tropics.

Finally, and perhaps most interesting to me, data are being gathered that illuminate the interaction of a species with its environment -- from the types of seeds it feeds on to the role of the clay lick where it spends so much time to its nesting requirements. As Don likes to say, each of these are pieces of the puzzle. When it is all put together, it seems to me, it will help us with larger questions of rainforest ecology and bird behavior.

I also wondered how I would react to the lifestyle of field research. After a week, I am finding TRC a wonderful place for a somewhat extended sojourn. It combines extensive time in the rainforest (hours just sitting and observing) with a learning environment. Certainly we are learning about macaws, through nightly presentations of the research and dinner conversations with the principal investigator (PI). It feels like we are doing real work here and are respected as such. The people here, from the PI to the guides to the biologist volunteers, all love the rainforest and are glad to explain things to whomever will listen. And as a group, the Earthwatch volunteers are feeling more and more a team as we share our life stories while staring at nests.

But most importantly, I'm getting the opportunity to settle in and really acclimate to the rainforest, to begin recognizing plants and bird sounds, even if I cannot name them.

Seeing macaws in flight is a glorious thing -- and you see it all the time. And knowing that just in this region of Peru, Madre del Dios, the amount of protected rainforest is equal to the entire country of Costa Rica is incredibly cheering.

Two tourists arrived here today. Because of the rainstorm and the condition of the river yesterday, they had to spend last night at the checkpoint along the way. Instead of the two nights they had planned to spend here, they have one. They are making a yeoman's effort to see it all. They took a hike this afternoon and a night hike this evening. Tomorrow morning, they will get up early and go to the clay lick and then they'll be off. Been there; done that.

Today, though, I'm really glad that's not me. I'm glad I'll be here to see the river go down and whatever it holds in store next week.