SPACES OF CONFLICT AND CONSERVATION IN THE CENTRAL BRAZILIAN AMAZON: ARTISANAL FISHERS, WILDLIFE TOURISM, AND THE AMAZON RIVER DOLPHIN By Cadi Y. Fung Submitted to Michigan State University in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Geography—Doctor of Philosophy A DISSERTATION 2019 SPACES OF CONFLICT AND CONSERVATION IN THE CENTRAL BRAZILIAN AMAZON: ARTISANAL FISHERS, WILDLIFE TOURISM, AND THE AMAZON RIVER DOLPHIN By Cadi Y. Fung ABSTRACT There has been growing concern that the Amazon river dolphin (Inia geoffrensis, locally known as the “boto”), a freshwater cetacean species, is severely threatened by anthropogenic activities. Studies have shown a steady population decline over the past two decades in a protected reserve in the Brazilian Amazon, but research is still lacking pertaining to key economic, institutional, cultural, and spatiotemporal factors exacerbating boto vulnerability. Focusing on artisanal fishing and boto interaction platform (BIP) tourism, this dissertation employs mixed methodology, including household surveys, in-depth key informant interviews, direct observation, and geospatial analytics to understand how artisanal fishing and BIP tourism impact boto vulnerability. Drawing on theories from political ecology, territoriality, animal geographies, and human-wildlife conflict, this dissertation: (1) evaluates the role of economic livelihoods in boto vulnerability; (2) assesses the disconnect between de jure policies regulating fishing and human-boto interactions and de facto practices of fishers and BIP operators; (3) evaluates the role of culture in boto vulnerability; and (4) assesses the spatial and temporal territorialities of botos, fishers, and tourism operators. Results suggest that perceptions of the boto differ considerably between fishers and tourism operators. In the context of fishing, botos were described as a challenge to overcome on a daily basis, and conflict with botos over resources was a common theme in interviews. BIP operators, on the other hand, described conflict in the context of intra-boto aggression, problems with tourists, and fisher animosity toward botos. They also acknowledged potential ecological impacts resulting from BIP tourism, including behavioral changes in botos, which was also reported by fishers. However, under ideal circumstances, BIP tourism has the potential to encourage education and awareness of boto conservation. With regard to legislation, fishers often described problematic encounters with enforcement agents and grievances with fishing regulations; BIP operators occasionally complained about the informal BIP regulations in place at the time, but overall were supportive of these regulations. Although environmental legislation in Brazil is robust, findings show a disconnect between policies and practice, in large part because the two primary federal environmental enforcement agencies, IBAMA and ICMBio, are limited by the amount of financial and human resources available. There is also some confusion regarding jurisdiction and responsibility among them; this is particularly true for BIP tourism, which was not formally regulated at the time of this research. Moreover, among artisanal fishing communities, problems with a subsidy program called seguro defeso resulted in the lack of payment to fishers during a period of restricted fishing. These challenges, coupled with a lack of political will and possible government corruption, create disconnects between policy and practice. Significant spatial and temporal overlap exists among fishers, tourism operators, and botos. Seasonal variation in habitat use by the botos overlaps considerably with areas of human activity, though findings suggest that the high-water period is more conducive for conflict between humans and botos. Given that boto populations have been steadily declining over a period of 20 years, it is crucial that steps are taken to mitigate boto vulnerability. Understanding stakeholder perspectives and challenges, causes for legislative disconnect, and spatiotemporal hotspots for human-boto interactions are important steps toward boto conservation. Copyright by CADI Y FUNG 2019 To all the animals I have had the honor of knowing, but especially to Jerry, Nicholas, Lady, and Sete-a-Um. You will always be in my heart. v ACKNOWLEDGMENTS There are so many people who played a role in the completion of this work. My deepest thanks to my parents, who throughout my life have instilled in me a sense of curiosity about the world, a respect for all living beings, and the humility of being one among Earth’s many creatures. Many thanks to my advisor, Dr. Cynthia Simmons, who introduced me to beautiful Brazil and was endlessly patient with me. To my committee members Dr. Leo Zulu, Dr. Sarah Nicholls, and Dr. Linda Kalof, who all have been incredibly supportive and helpful throughout this long process. Special thanks to Dr. Guillaume Marchand and others at UFAM, without whom my fieldwork really would not have been possible. I am so grateful for Sharon Ruggles, the go-to person for all the Geography graduate students. We couldn’t do it without you. Thanks also to those who helped fund this research: the American Association of Geographers (AAG), AAG’s Latin America Specialty Group, and numerous Michigan State University departments, centers, and programs, including the Department of Geography, Environment, and Spatial Sciences, College of Social Sciences, Council of Graduate Students, Center for Advanced Study of International Development, Animal Studies program, Center for Gender in Global Context (GenCen), and Center for Latin American and Caribbean Studies (CLACS). I am eternally grateful for the friendships, old and new, that supported me through this journey. To Steph, Annie, and Jen, for always being there, and all my fellow graduate students who filled this process with laughter, tears, snacks, and crafts, but especially to Laura, Ellis, Lisa-Marie, Victoria, Cristina, and April for their friendship, advice, shoulders, and cat-sitting. Thank you to Supporting Women in Geography (SWIG) for being such a strong support system. vi And thanks to Raechel for providing a space for me to work, and for our many conversations and extracurricular excursions. Words cannot express my gratitude for Adrianne and Klêyann in Manaus, who welcomed me into their homes and treated me as part of the family. I am incredibly thankful to have met them and to be able to call them lifelong friends. To Gina and Filinho, for their hospitality and companionship. Special thanks go out to my field assistants Natalia and Marina, who helped make sense of what I was trying to say, and Laynara, a rock star among them all, who stuck with me through thick and thin and questionable transportation choices. I am immensely grateful to the participants of this study, who took the time to speak with me, were patient with my slow Portuguese, and generously invited me and my team into their homes and offices to tell us their stories. Last, but not least, my endless gratitude to Brad and our cat Edwin, my sweet family who carried me through to the end and provided the emotional support necessary to get this done. Thank you for being my rock. vii TABLE OF CONTENTS LIST OF TABLES .................................................................................................................... x LIST OF FIGURES .................................................................................................................. xii KEY TO ABBREVIATIONS .................................................................................................. xiii CHAPTER 1: INTRODUCTION ............................................................................................. 1 1.1 Introduction .......................................................................................................................... 2 1.2 Background and Problem Statement .................................................................................... 3 1.3 Research Questions .............................................................................................................. 12 1.4 Theoretical Framework ........................................................................................................ 14 1.5 Study Area and Methods ...................................................................................................... 18 1.6 Structure of the Dissertation ................................................................................................. 23 REFERENCES ......................................................................................................................... 26 CHAPTER 2: DISENTANGLING THE SOCIOECONOMIC AND POLITICAL DYNAMICS AMONG FISHERS, TOURISM OPERATORS, AND THE AMAZON RIVER DOLPHIN .. 34 2.1 Introduction .......................................................................................................................... 35 2.2 Human-Boto Conflict and Challenges for Conservation in Amazonia ................................ 38 2.3 Study Area and Methodology ............................................................................................... 41 2.4 Results from Semi-structured Interviews and Household Surveys ...................................... 45 2.4.1 Socio-economic characteristics of all respondents ...................................................... 45 2.4.2 Fisher results ................................................................................................................ 46 2.4.3 BIP operator results ..................................................................................................... 64 2.5 Fishing and Tourism, Tourism and Fishing ......................................................................... 80 2.6 Synthesizing Stakeholder Views and Moving Toward Sustainable Relationships .............. 83 REFERENCES ......................................................................................................................... 88 CHAPTER 3: CONTENTION IN THE AMAZON: CRIMINALITY AND CONSERVATION AMONG HUMANS AND THE AMAZON RIVER DOLPHIN IN BRAZIL ......................... 93 3.1 Introduction .......................................................................................................................... 94 3.2 Literature Review ................................................................................................................. 95 3.2.1 Fishers’ interactions with botos ................................................................................... 96 3.2.2 Tourism with botos ....................................................................................................... 98 3.2.3 Brazilian legislation and regulations for artisanal fishing and wildlife tourism ......... 100 3.3 Methods ................................................................................................................................ 107 3.4 Results .................................................................................................................................. 110 3.4.1 BIP operator understanding and perception of legislation .......................................... 110 3.4.2 Culture and perceptions of the boto: BIP operators .................................................... 121 3.4.3 Fisher understanding and perceptions of legislation ................................................... 122 3.4.4 Culture and perceptions of the boto: Fishers ............................................................... 126 3.4.5 Community leaders and civil servant responses to legislation .................................... 127 3.5 Discussion and Conclusion ................................................................................................... 140 viii REFERENCES ......................................................................................................................... 147 CHAPTER 4: SPATIOTEMPORAL TERRITORIALITIES OF THE AMAZON RIVER DOLPHIN (INIA GEOFFRENSIS), FISHERS, AND TOURISM OPERATORS .................... 151 4.1 Introduction .......................................................................................................................... 152 4.2 Methods ................................................................................................................................ 155 4.3 Results .................................................................................................................................. 162 4.3.1 Spatiotemporal extent of optimal boto habitat ............................................................. 162 4.3.2 Spatial and temporal variation of BIP activity ............................................................. 163 4.3.3 Spatial and temporal variation of fishing activity ........................................................ 166 4.3.4 Spaces of contention: human and boto overlap ........................................................... 169 4.4 Discussion ............................................................................................................................. 172 4.4.1 Modeling optimal boto habitat conditions ................................................................... 172 4.4.2 Seasonality of BIP activities and observed boto behavior ........................................... 173 4.4.3 Spatial and temporal fishing considerations ................................................................ 174 4.4.4 Overlapping spaces of human and boto usage ............................................................. 176 4.4.5 Limitations .................................................................................................................... 177 4.5 Conclusions .......................................................................................................................... 178 REFERENCES ......................................................................................................................... 179 CHAPTER 5: CONCLUDING REMARKS ............................................................................. 184 5.1 Summary of Findings ........................................................................................................... 185 5.2 Significance and Implications of the Work .......................................................................... 189 5.3 Limitations and Future Research .......................................................................................... 193 APPENDICES ........................................................................................................................... 195 APPENDIX A: Interview Guide (English) ............................................................................ 196 APPENDIX B: Interview Guide (Portuguese) ....................................................................... 199 APPENDIX C: Survey Instrument for Fishers (English) ...................................................... 202 APPENDIX D: Survey Instrument for Fishers (Portuguese) ................................................. 213 APPENDIX E: Survey Instrument for BIP Operators (English) ........................................... 224 APPENDIX F: Survey Instrument for BIP Operators (Portuguese) ...................................... 237 APPENDIX G: Fishing Calendar Instrument (Portuguese) ................................................... 250 REFERENCES ......................................................................................................................... 253 ix LIST OF TABLES Table 1.1. Research questions and associated sub-questions ..................................................... 13 Table 2.1. Table of fisher and BIP operator demographics ........................................................ 47 Table 2.2. Average income and income sources for fisher respondents .................................... 48 Table 2.3. Reported costs associated with fishing activity ......................................................... 51 Table 2.4. Primary topics of interest and the prominent emergent themes from fisher interviews ................................................................................................................................... 52 Table 2.5. Average monthly income and income sources for BIP operators ............................. 66 Table 2.6. Months of highest and lowest BIP tourist visitation ................................................. 67 Table 2.7. BIP costs of operation ............................................................................................... 67 Table 2.8. Prominent emergent BIP operator themes subdivided by their associated coding references .................................................................................................................................... 69 Table 2.9. Types of fish and percentage of respondents who reported to catch them (fishers) or use to feed botos (BIP operators) ........................................................................................... 82 Table 2.10. Fisher and BIP operator responses to changes in boto numbers and frequency of interactions over time ................................................................................................................. 82 Table 3.1. Table of legislation relevant to fishers and BIP operators ........................................ 102 Table 3.2. Informal regulations for BIP operations .................................................................... 105 Table 3.3. BIP rules as reported by BIP operators ..................................................................... 114 Table 3.4. List of legislation with laws at least partially understood by all fisher interview respondents highlighted in blue (n=7) ........................................................................................ 123 Table 3.5. Types of fish reported to be caught by fishers and/or used for feeding in BIP operations ................................................................................................................................... 126 Table 4.1. Expectations for spatial and temporal overlap of fisher, BIP, and boto territorialities .............................................................................................................................. 155 Table 4.2. Monthly BIP tourist visitation ................................................................................... 165 x Table 4.3. Locations of study sites with respect to protected areas ............................................ 168 xi LIST OF FIGURES Figure 1.1. Map of study area ..................................................................................................... 22 Figure 2.1. Map of study area along the Lower Rio Negro outside of Manaus, Amazonas, Brazil .......................................................................................................................................... 43 Figure 3.1. Map of the study area ............................................................................................... 108 Figure 3.2. List of rules for tourists at BIPs ............................................................................... 119 Figure 3.3. Educational poster commonly seen at BIPs ............................................................. 120 Figure 4.1. Study area map with BIPs and approximated fishing activity ................................. 157 Figure 4.2. Seasonal sex ratio of botos in relation to four major flooded forest habitats ........... 160 Figure 4.3. Water levels in meters above sea level for the Lower Rio Negro for years 2007 through 2017 ............................................................................................................................... 161 Figure 4.4. Boto habitat model for study region, created in Google Earth Engine .................... 163 Figure 4.5. BIPs depicted as yellow circles; pink areas highlight optimal (vegetation + sediment) boto niche areas .......................................................................................................................... 164 Figure 4.6. Map of fishing areas located outside of the communities of those fishers reporting the locations ................................................................................................................................ 169 Figure 4.7a. Overlap of projected 2-km human activity with predicted low water (optimal vegetation + sediment conditions) and high water boto niche ................................................... 171 Figure 4.7b. Map of predicted boto niche for comparison ......................................................... 171 Figure 4.8. Boto niche model run for a region of Mamirauá Sustainable Development Reserve, outside of Tefé, Amazonas ......................................................................................................... 172 xii KEY TO ABBREVIATIONS Boto interaction platform Brazilian Real (currency) Cadastro de Pessoas Físicas (Brazilian taxpayer registry) Fundação Amazonas Sustentável (Amazonas Sustainability Foundation) Instituto Brasileiro do Meio Ambiente e dos Recursos Naturais Renováveis (Brazilian Institute of Environment and Renewable Natural Resources) Instituto Chico Mendes de Conservação da Biodiversidade (Chico Mendes Institute for Biodiversity Conservation Instituto Nacional de Pesquisas da Amazônia (National Institute of Amazonian Research) International Union for Conservation of Nature Ministério do Meio Ambiente (Minstry of the Environment) Ministério da Pesca e Aquicultura (Ministry of Fisheries and Aquaculture) Protected area Secretaria Estadual do Meio Ambiente (State Secretary of the Environment) Conselho Estadual de Meio Ambiente do Amazonas (State Council for the Environment of Amazonas) Universidade Federal do Amazonas xiii BIP BRL CPF FAS IBAMA ICMBio INPA IUCN MMA MPA PA SEMA CEMAAM UFAM CHAPTER 1: INTRODUCTION 1 1.1 Introduction Human interaction with dolphins has a long and storied history (Orams 1997; Rauch 2014). Over time, these interactions have increased, where today entire industries are centered on tourism activities that involve some form of up-close encounter with dolphins and other cetaceans. “Wild” encounters have also increased, as human population grows and the systems that keep society functioning place humans and non-human others, dolphins included, increasingly closer together. This is especially true for the world’s river dolphins, who often share habitat and resources with their human neighbors. In the case of river dolphins, their proximity to humans has resulted in sometimes devastating impacts to their species. One iconic example is that of the Yangtze River dolphin (Lipotes vexillifer). As of 2006, scientists say the once-numerous dolphins were driven to extinction by overfishing, pollution, and dam development (Turvey et al. 2007). Of the other five river dolphin species that exist, one is endangered, two are threatened, and two were classified as “data deficient” at the time this research was conducted (IUCN 2017). This dissertation focuses on one of those two data deficient species, the Amazon river dolphin (Inia geoffrensis), who is currently experiencing conditions similar to those that brought the Yangtze river dolphin to extinction. The Amazon river dolphin, known in her home territory as the “boto,” is impacted across a gradient of territorial regimes that vary in terms of formality of conservation efforts, degree and intensity of human-wildlife interactions, and pressure from economic globalization. Considered to be a regional indicator species, reflecting the ecological health of the Amazon River basin (Gomez-Salazar, Coll, and Whitehead 2012), scientists and policymakers say more information about the boto is urgently needed, especially as the Amazon basin is being transformed into an economic hub that will soon integrate countries across South 2 America, and serve as major economic and resource base to fuel economic growth and link markets across Asia, the Americas, and Europe. The situation is made more dire by a recent study that announced a sustained and profound decline in boto populations over two decades (da Silva et al. 2018a); this study provided the necessary empirical evidence to reclassify Inia geoffrensis, who had been listed as “data deficient” since 2008, as “endangered” on the IUCN Red List of Threatened Species in June 2018 (da Silva et al. 2018b). The goal of this dissertation research is to contribute valuable information through a close examination of key threats and vulnerabilities of the boto, which will provide important insights to aid conservation efforts. This dissertation specifically addresses the role of subsistence fishing and boto-interaction tourism in the complex and changing territorialities of botos, fishers, and tourism operators along the Rio Negro outside of the greater Manaus metropolitan region of Amazonas state, Brazil. Its focus is on human-wildlife conflict, contested and/or overlapping territorialities across space and time, and political and economic drivers for actions, behaviors, and perceptions within these two human communities, and how they impact boto vulnerability. 1.2 Background and Problem Statement The relationships between humans, non-human animals, and ecosystems in the Brazilian Amazon are characterized by sociocultural, ecological, and economic complexities. In the case of human-boto relations, questions of power and authority, culture and development, ecosystems integrity, and clashing stakeholder interests and goals arise from a myriad of issues based partly on (1) a lack of protection and conservation of the boto; (2) cultural beliefs that influence the human-animal relationship and systems of governance and enforcement; and (3) territories and spaces imagined, created, and contested by actants using these shared spaces. Here I use the term actants to connote that both human and non-human actors have agency, following the principle 3 of generalized symmetry and terminology of Actor-Network Theory (Latour 1999; Muller and Schurr 2016). The Amazon river dolphin (Inia geoffrensis) An obligate freshwater species, the boto is found throughout the Amazon and Orinoco river basins. Within the genus Inia are three genetically distinct species: Inia geoffrensis, Inia boliviensis (a species found only in Bolivia), and Inia araguaiensis, discovered in 2014 in the Araguaia-Tocantins river basin (Hrbek et al. 2014). Inia are not the only river dolphin species who inhabit the Amazon river basin; there is also Sotalia fluviatilis, locally known as the tucuxi, or sometimes boto cinza (gray boto). Although the tucuxi is a freshwater species, they actually belong to the Delphinidae family, to which marine dolphins belong. The tucuxi physically resembles the bottlenose dolphin and is considered the friendlier and “more attractive” of the two freshwater dolphin species in the Amazon, and is associated less often with nuisance behaviors as compared to the boto (Slater 1994). Inia geoffrensis is the species associated with local folklore and also represents ecotourism and wildlife conservation in the region. Hereafter, any reference to “boto” in this dissertation refers to Inia geoffrensis. The boto’s body is well-adapted to her environment and flexible enough to explore both main river channels and flooded habitats with dense, submerged vegetation (da Silva and Martin 2010). Sexual dimorphism in botos is pronounced; on average, adult non-pregnant females are approximately 199.8 cm in length and weigh approximately 99.6 kg, while adult male botos average 231.5 cm in length and 154.2 kg in weight (Martin and da Silva 2006). Calves are estimated to be approximately 80 cm at birth (da Silva 1994), and gestation is estimated to span 10.7 to 11.2 months (da Silva and Martin 2010). Reproduction occurs throughout the year, but peak reproduction varies geographically (McGuire and Aliaga-Rossel 2007). In the Brazilian 4 Amazon, reproduction is likely to occur most at minimum water levels when both males and females move to the main river channels. As water levels rise, females and their calves move into inundated areas (Martin and da Silva 2004b). Aside from the mother-calf relation, botos are predominantly solitary animals (Araújo and da Silva 2014). Groups of botos, when observed, usually do not number more than three. They have a varied and generalist diet, and have been found to consume at least 43 different species of fish (da Silva 1983). The Legend of the Boto Boto conservation itself is complicated by deeply rooted cultural beliefs, as well as by widespread intentional killing of the dolphins by fishers (Loch, Marmontel, and Simões-Lopes 2009). Traditional Amazonian folklore includes stories of the boto as a powerful, supernatural being viewed as “mischievous” and “tempestuous,” with the ability to transform into a handsome Caucasian man skilled at dancing and seducing young women. Stories tell of dolphins entering boats and households to paralyze and rape their occupants (Gravena et al. 2008: 969). Often, unexpected teenage pregnancies in this region of Brazil are attributed to seduction by the boto (Cravalho 1999), who is assumed to be the father of all children of unknown parentage (Câmara Cascudo 1972). Because of the boto’s perceived sexual prowess, some dolphin body parts are thought to have magical properties (Cravalho 1999). Although these stories are often labeled as legends, some small communities in the Amazon region view the boto as an “active and fearsome element of their behavioral environment” (Cravalho 1999: 47). This complicates the human-boto relationship, and ultimately boto conservation efforts, because the dolphin is viewed as a sexual predator and competitor (Cravalho 1999: 55). 5 Traditionally, interactions between humans and botos were minimized because of a fear of the boto as a powerful, supernatural creature. It was believed that when humans came in contact with a boto encantado, an enchanted boto (or bota encantada, the less common but still prevalent female version), the consequences were harmful; people could become impregnated, insane, cursed, or lured to the bottom of the river to live in the botos’ enchanted underwater city (Slater 1994). Interactions with the powerful boto were taboo, and the belief was that harming these creatures would result in a form of karmic punishment, sometimes resulting in death. Over time, these taboos and beliefs have degraded, and interactions between humans and botos have increased because of population growth, migration to urban areas, education, economic forces/pressures, and other development factors (da Silva and Best 1996; da Silva, Martin, and do Carmo 2011). River dolphin tourism Capitalizing on boto legends, as well as international interest in the Amazon as a premier ecotourism destination, communities around the Rio Negro river within a short distance from Manaus—the capital of Amazonas state—have created a tourism industry called “boto feeding tourism” (Alves et al. 2011). This activity reportedly creates economic growth opportunities for local townspeople, and in some cases, it represents the primary source of income for residents (Alves et al. 2013b). Moreover, it is thought that boto tourism might act as a conservation education tool, with advocates of dolphin tourism claiming that tourist interaction with dolphins creates potential increased interest in boto survival (e.g., Alves et al. 2011). Additionally, if people are able to earn a living from dolphin tourism, there is the presumption that at least some individuals would consider subsisting off this activity, rather than profiting off dolphin slaughter, or otherwise engaging in harmful activities. 6 Despite these claims, no studies have been conducted to analyze the benefits of boto tourism. In some cases, boto tourism’s economic benefits are shared by a limited few, and individuals not directly affiliated with these tourism operations do not experience a trickle-down effect from profits (Alves et al. 2013b). Additionally, at the time of data collection (2016), boto tourism had not yet been formally regulated or monitored. While legislation to regulate these activities now exists (SEMA Resolução/CEMAAM n° 28, de 22 de janeiro de 2018), the previous lack of regulation, as well as lack of specialized training for the people who run these interaction programs, led to dangerous encounters between dolphins and humans (Trujillo et al. 2010). There are reports that people have been injured by the dolphins, often as a result of inappropriate behavior from visitors and tourists, most commonly harassment of dolphins, including physical abuse and attempts to feed them alcohol. Dolphin tourism often includes feeding dolphins, but the amount of food and the methods of preparation are not regulated; sometimes dolphins are fed fish that have been left on the ground or trampled on, and in some cases, dolphins have even swallowed the plastic bags used to hold fish (Alves et al. 2011). Beyond these problems are questions about the authenticity of boto-centered tourism. The cultural stories surrounding the boto have in part been commodified to sell activities and products to people, sometimes at the expense of the boto and the people whose beliefs are turned into a product to be sold. The interaction programs lack guidance and training, and are advertised as an opportunity to swim with “wild” dolphins. However, these dolphins have been conditioned to receive food in specific places along the river, and the interaction itself is structured like an assembly line, with one tour group after another getting into the water with the dolphin(s) for a short interaction session. The ethics of such activities, particularly as they concern human interference and modification of natural ecosystems, are additional considerations that those in 7 positions of power should consider when creating legislation and planning for the longevity of this tourism practice (Orams 2002). Despite these issues, there is the possibility for boto feeding tourism to act as a conservation education tool. One study demonstrated its potential by bringing a group of 84 schoolchildren from two local schools, aged 6–13 years, to participate in an interaction session with the botos. At first, many children expressed fear of the animals, but after their exposure they expressed great happiness from the interactions. In fact, the experience positively changed some participants’ attitudes and views of the boto, which is traditionally seen in a negative light for cultural and economic reasons. One child commented that s/he wants “the boto to live forever, and [I] don’t want my father to kill them!” (Alves et al. 2011: 11). Here, we see potential for interaction programs to increase awareness and improve perceptions of certain species of animals in favor of conservation of the animal and their habitat. However, long-term impacts of perception shifts are thus far unknown. Arguably, the most important perception changes would involve fishers, whose relationships with botos are often highly contentious. Fishing and the boto Amazon river dolphins have no known natural predators; their greatest threats come from anthropogenic sources, and the fishing industry in particular (da Silva and Martin 2010). From a fisher’s perspective, botos are often seen as competitors for resources, as well as disruptors of fishing operations (Loch, Marmontel, and Simões-Lopes 2009). There are several ways in which botos act as “nuisance animals” for fishers, particularly subsistence or artisanal fishers: they reportedly scare fish away from fishing sites, steal fish from nets, and can destroy the nets themselves, either from the process of stealing fish, or from accidental entanglement in the nets (Loch, Marmontel, and Simões-Lopes 2009; Mintzer et al. 2015). These are all actions that can 8 cause great financial distress to fishers, who often rely on fishing as their primary source of income. Given these interactions, it is perhaps not surprising that fishers often take a retaliatory approach against the boto, seeking revenge for their losses. In other cases, they may pre- emptively kill a boto if one is spotted near a fishing net, in order to prevent damage to fishing gear (Loch, Marmontel, and Simões-Lopes 2009). Arguably, one of the most egregious crimes against the boto centers on the slaughtering of botos for use as fish bait, which occurs in the piracatinga fishing industry. Piracatinga (Calophysus macropterus) is a species of necrophagous catfish consumed primarily in Colombia as a substitute for a preferred overfished species. Nevertheless, it is increasingly being fraudulently sold in Brazil as douradinha fillets, which translates into “little” dourada, which happens to be a local favorite (Trujillo et al. 2010; da Silva, Martin, and do Carmo 2011; Mintzer et al. 2013). This practice of hunting botos for use as bait is known to have been occurring in Brazil, Colombia, Peru, and Venezuela for at least 15 years, and appears to be contributing significantly to sustained boto population decline (da Silva et al. 2018). Current system of protection in Brazil In 2010, the Brazilian government published an action plan for conservation of aquatic mammals with a focus on small cetaceans such as botos. The stated main objective of the plan was to reduce anthropogenic impacts on, and improve knowledge about, small cetaceans in Brazil. To achieve this objective, the plan proposed seven main goals to: 1) assess and mitigate the impacts of hunting and fishing activity; 2); assess and mitigate the impacts of pollution; 3) assess and mitigate the impacts of tourism and recreation; 4) minimize the loss of habitat; 5) expand scientific knowledge of cetaceans; 6) expand environmental education directed towards 9 the conservation of cetaceans; and 7) strengthen national and international policies for the management and conservation of small cetaceans (Barreto et al. 2011). Taken together, the plan proposes 109 total actions, 22 of which specifically mention river dolphins. While the proposed action plan is comprehensive and addresses many of the problems facing dolphin conservation in Amazonia, evidence suggests there is a disconnect between proposed conservation strategies/policies and de facto practices of local residents (Castello et al. 2013). Some of the barriers to conservation likely exist in part because of contentious territorialities, while others likely find their roots in contentious relations, particularly when it comes to fishers’ frustration towards government regulations and the botos themselves. Fishing activities are extensively regulated by season, species, and restricted fishing areas. In contrast, boto tourism—at the time of data collection for this study—was not regulated. Informal rules were developed through a collaborative effort by researchers and scientists at the National Institute of Amazonian Research (INPA), the Brazilian Institute of Environment and Renewable Natural Resources (IBAMA), and the Chico Mendes Institute for Biodiversity Conservation (ICMbio) to provide guidance to tourism operators and their patrons, but these rules had no effective enforcement power. In early 2018, state legislation based on these informal regulations was passed to regulate boto tourism activities (SEMA Resolução/CEMAAM n° 28, de 22 de janeiro de 2018); however, because this legislation did not exist at the time of data collection, it is not discussed herein. Boto vulnerability Wildlife vulnerability is often framed in the context of species risk-exposure to the effects of climate change (e.g., Glick, Stein, and Edelson 2011; Lankford et al. 2014; Young, Dubois, and Rowland 2015; Buotte et al. 2016), environmental pollutants (e.g., de Lange et al. 10 2009; Lahr et al. 2010; Markham and Sangermano 2018;), or other environmental and biological risks such as habitat loss and fragmentation or disease (e.g., Belant and Deese 2010; Lancaster et al. 2011). Wildlife vulnerability is also commonly associated with wildlife health, focusing primarily on infectious or parasitic diseases (Stephen 2014). Social considerations of vulnerability are often limited to the context of the vulnerability of humans to wildlife interactions (e.g., crop raiding), but have also begun to include impacts from human development projects such as offshore wind energy (Goodale and Stenhouse 2016) and repercussions of human activity, like roadkill (Srbek-Araujo, Alvarenga, and Bertoldi 2018). The International Union for Conservation of Nature (IUCN) uses the category of “vulnerable” in their Red List of Threatened Species to include species whose populations have met specific criteria pertaining to population size and reduction over recent time (10 years or three generations), geographic range and occupancy restriction, and quantitative research showing that the species’ “probability of extinction in the wild is at least 10% within 100 years” (IUCN 2012: 22). In essence, species within this category are considered to be facing a high risk of extinction in the wild. In this work, boto vulnerability is defined as the boto’s exposure to health, ecological (habitat), and behavioral risk based on a multidimensional view of human-boto interactions that includes social or societal components, such as tourism activities or widely held beliefs or perceptions of the species. Rather than focusing primarily on population size and number, vulnerability here considers the potential impacts humans may have on the longevity and health of local boto populations within the context of political, institutional, economic, and social structures and changes. 11 1.3 Research Questions Already an understudied species, much of the literature on the Amazon river dolphin focuses on their spatial distribution (Martin and da Silva 2004a; McGuire and Aliaga-Rossel 2007; McGuire and Henningsen 2007; Santos et al. 2012; Mintzer et al. 2016; Siciliano et al. 2016), their use in illegal fishing practices (Loch, Marmontel, and Simões-Lopes 2009; da Silva, Martin, and do Carmo 2011; Iriarte and Marmontel 2013; Mintzer et al. 2013; Brum et al. 2015), and physiological or ecological factors (Jacobs and Hall 1972; Kastelein et al. 1999; Gomez- Salazar, Trujillo, and Whitehead 2011; Gomez-Salazar, Coll, and Whitehead 2012; Gomez- Salazar et al. 2012). Of the studies focused on conflicts between humans and botos, they primarily describe and quantify the physical characteristics, degree, and impact of human-boto interactions on the dolphin and rarely, if ever, consider social factors such as behavior and attitudes (Mintzer et al. 2015). Boto tourism literature is very limited, and what exists focuses primarily on aggressive boto behavior during provisioning programs (Alves et al. 2013a), exploratory descriptions of the activity (Alves et al. 2011), and perceptions of socioeconomic impacts of this form of tourism within a community (Alves et al. 2013b). Studies do not yet exist that analyze the potential of boto tourism to influence boto ecology and vulnerability, nor do they explore the social and spatial territorialities among these stakeholder groups. Using a multi-methods approach (semi-structured key informant interviews, household surveys, participant observation, and secondary data) framed through lenses of territoriality, political ecology, and animal geographies, the goal of this research is to contribute valuable insight to fill the knowledge gap with a focus on four specific research questions and sub- questions identified in Table 1.1. 12 Table 1.1. Research questions and associated sub-questions. BIP = Boto Interaction Platform. Research Question Sub-question I. What is the role of economics in boto (a) What is the role of the local fishing vulnerability? II. What is the disconnect, if any, between de jure policies regulating fishing and human- boto interactions and the de facto practices of fishers and BIP operators? III. What is the role of culture in boto vulnerability? IV. How do botos, fishers, and tourism operators territorialize spaces in the study region? community? (b) What is the role of boto tourism? (a) In what ways, if any, do fishers and BIP operators overlap occupationally? (b) Is there any spatial or temporal overlap among the three groups (botos, fishers, BIP operators)? How, if at all, do these territorialities change over space and time? (c) If territorialities conflict, how do they impact boto vulnerability? Given ongoing large-scale infrastructure and development projects (e.g., hydroelectric dams and natural resource mining) throughout the Brazilian Amazon and their potential impacts on boto and other wildlife populations, it is crucial to understand the other myriad ways in which humans may be contributing to and exacerbating existing biological and ecological stressors for botos and other threatened wildlife. Additionally, human communities and stakeholders who are impacted by conservation measures (or a lack thereof) must also be heard and understood in order for effective regulations and policies to be implemented among and within stakeholder groups. This dissertation extends existing knowledge of the boto by including a much-needed focus on how socioeconomic, legislative, and cultural factors might influence boto vulnerability, with the expectation that knowledge attained through this research will provide insight into the nuances of the human-boto relationship in the study region. Moving forward, these insights may 13 be useful in the process of developing, implementing, amending, or enforcing regulations designed to protect the boto, as well as understanding why certain policies may not be effective, particularly at the community level. 1.4 Theoretical Framework Most research studying conflicts between humans and the boto are focused on conflicts with fishers, and are framed within the context of conservation biology, ecology, and natural resource conservation and management (Loch, Marmontel, and Simões-Lopes 2009; Alves, Zappes, and Andriolo 2012; Mintzer et al. 2013; Brum et al. 2015; Mintzer et al. 2016). That scholarship focuses on boto outcomes, and lacks attention to the articulation of social processes across space and time, and the contentious interactions that often result. This research aims to expand the literature to include these themes in research framed from a social and geographic perspective by employing a political ecology framework that incorporates theories from animal geography, territoriality, and human-wildlife conflict. Political ecology Political ecology is an interdisciplinary field of study that incorporates social, economic, and ecological considerations to understand and explain problems involving people and the natural environment as they articulate in specific places. At its foundation, it includes a focus on how the environmental actions of those who work with land and water are influenced by (1) economic, ecological, and political marginalization; (2) pressures of production on resources, and (3) flawed environmental data and policies (Walker 2005). Over time, political ecology has evolved to include looking at the ways in which environments are shaped by the political interests and actions of those who participate in political-ecological conflicts (Bryant and Bailey 1997), and to consider how power relations affect the ways humans interact with the 14 environment (Robbins 2004). In these ways, political ecology and theories of territoriality, another important facet of this theoretical framework, share similarities. Contentious territorialities The human-boto relationship is one heavily rooted in issues of space, place, and territory. Human territorialization of the Amazon, and resulting contentious interactions, has been studied extensively (Simmons 2005; Simmons et al. 2007; De Jong and Ruiz 2012; Silveira and Wiggers 2013), but territorial roles played by non-human animals are often minimized or ignored. In the case of the Brazilian Amazon, spaces occupied by botos can overlap with human spaces, and these play an important role in the livelihood of human communities and ecological integrity of the Amazon region. The ecology of the Amazon river dolphins is such that they inhabit inland lakes and flooded areas during the high-water season, where they reproduce and reside for most of the year (Martin and da Silva 2004a). During the dry season, the dolphins return to the main rivers, which act as networks and spaces of genetic exchange, and result in an increased likelihood of dolphins crossing through and outside formally protected spaces and areas of frequent human use (e.g., fishing and tourism). For these reasons, it is important to consider ideas of boundaries and perceived ownership or “rights” to spaces, especially in the context of human-animal relations. The issues surrounding all of these considerations, then, are simultaneously political and ecological, and shaped by discourses of power and authority. In this regard, territorialization is a useful lens through which to frame this research, as this theory helps to understand the spatial, political, and cultural underpinnings of human-boto interactions. Territoriality assigns people and social groups “to discrete areas through the use of boundaries,” and is seen as a strategy for individuals, groups, and organizations to “exercise power over a portion of space and its 15 contents” (Johnston et al. 2000: 823). According to this definition, territoriality is an efficient method of maintaining centralized control “at the same time that a service or activity is provided to a localized population” (2000: 824). Similarly, Ramirez-Cover (2013: 152–153) describes territorialization as a process to establish control over resources through the allocation of rights of use and access, but also by defining parties of legitimate authority, and as a contested process “by which a state institution establishes control over natural resources and the people who use them.” Control and authority are crucial components of territoriality, and indeed, comprise one of the three main mechanisms of enacting the practice of territoriality. These mechanisms are: 1) popular acceptance of classifications of space. In some cases, this entails the creation of an abstract space, which allows for the mapping of boundaries and the defining of space according to state power, thus rendering the space in control by the state, and expropriating it from those previously inhabiting those spaces; 2) communication of a sense of place. Among other things, this often involves creating new rules about acceptable uses of the natural resources contained within these territorialized spaces; and 3) enforcement of control over space by means of surveillance, policing, and legitimation (Johnston et al. 2000: 824; Ramirez-Cover 2013). Issues of power and authority also create conflicts between humans and non-human animals. Frustration can arise in a fisher toward a dolphin, for example, if the dolphin is seen as competition for resources within a shared space. Without effective surveillance, policing, and legitimation of this space, there is nothing to prevent the fisher from harming or killing a dolphin, accidentally or otherwise. Moreover, the dolphin has no power to assert her territorialities of shared spaces, since there is no mechanism for a non-human animal to be granted agency in considerations of power and authority to define territory. Granting rights to animals considered to be truly “wild” is complicated by the ways in which they are “tied to 16 specific territories or ecological niches,” and often these territories are subjected to “human invasion, colonization, displacement and habitat destruction” (Donaldson and Kymlicka 2017: 53). Animal geographies and human-wildlife conflict Questions of territory rarely consider the rights and values of non-human animals. In the scramble for space, non-human animals are often afforded minimal, if any, consideration. That being the case, how do we weigh the value of humans vs. non-humans, and who gets to decide on a value system? In the case of the boto, spaces of fishing and tourism activities may overlap considerably with each other as well as with the spaces utilized by botos for foraging, reproduction, and general habitation. In this work, the political ecology of the boto will be assessed through a lens that combines territorialization, animal geographies, and human-wildlife conflict, as it relates to fishing and tourism. The boto can be considered a “political animal,” a concept that argues that different types of animals are viewed differently in accordance with different human political communities (Donaldson and Kymlicka 2011). Animals are categorized according to their proximity to humans, and each category of animal has their own set of afforded “rights.” Wild animals are perceived as forming their own communities, exclusive of humans, and are entitled to protection against threats to their autonomy and freedom. Liminal animals are some combination of domesticated and wild; in other words, animals who are considered “wild” but inhabit human spaces. Although these animals live amongst humans, they are not fully residents of human communities as domesticated animals are – most often, they are seen as “denizens” or pests. Each category of animal is associated with its own politic, in terms of how they interact with humans, and the different kinds of rights we afford them based on these relationships 17 (Donaldson and Kymlicka 2011). The boto, while technically a “wild” animal, falls much more within the category of liminal animal, as far as this research project is concerned. The interactions between humans and botos carry the species away from wildness and into the world of humans, where it is indeed often viewed as a pest. The rights and values of non-human animals inherently involve questions of morality and ethics, and my research is aligned with Gary Snyder’s concept of a moral community that includes all life, not just a selection of species (Wolch and Emel 1998). The theoretical framework guiding this work is partially based on the philosophical idea of inherent worth—that plants and animals have intrinsic worth, regardless of their instrumental value to humans. William Lynn’s “geoethics” framework, which incorporates Snyder’s ideas and brings humans and animals into solidarity with nature, is useful to consider here. This ethic recognizes at once the inherent geographical context of the human-animal relationship and the moral questions pertaining to human relationships and attitudes towards animals (Lynn 1998). 1.5 Study Area and Methods Employing constructivist grounded theory, my research focuses on empirically assessing potential boto threats using mixed methods with qualitative data collection and analysis as the dominant methodology. The research design focused on two primary stakeholder groups, artisanal (subsistence) fishers and boto interaction platform (BIP) tourism operators, but also included government civil servants and community leaders. Data collection included structured household surveys, semi-structured key informant interviews, direct observation, and secondary data. Qualitative and mixed methodologies were chosen because data was not available for a more quantitative, systematic assessment. Given the lack of pre-existing data, particularly for 18 this study region, this research was conducted based on what could be achieved with limited access to participants and data resources. Fishing communities surrounding the BIPs were limited in the number of households and individuals available to survey and interview, in part due to their size (the largest community surveyed comprised 13 households), fishers’ schedules, and logistical access to communities and individual (standalone) households along the river and its tributaries. Given these limitations, qualitative and mixed methodologies were ideal for this study in order to gain in-depth understanding of how fishing and tourism communities impact boto vulnerability in this specific region. There has not yet been a study that investigates what socioeconomic and spatial interrelations exist between fishers and boto tourism, nor how these three stakeholder groups— artisanal fishers, BIP operators, and botos—interact or impact one another socioeconomically and spatially. By incorporating qualitative and spatial data and methodologies together, this project advances our understanding of what these interrelations are, why they exist, and how they might be impacting both human and boto communities. This new information can provide insight into more elaborate research and policies helping both botos and human stakeholders. The survey instrument queried fishers (n=11) and BIP (n=10) operators on (1) economic factors, including key socioeconomic data; operational details regarding their primary economic activity (i.e., fishing or tourism) in order to gauge economic importance of the activity and strategies employed in the practice of the activity; and alternative or supplementary income sources, including fishing, agriculture, tourism, and urban employment (e.g., details on the practice and economic importance of this activity). The survey also included specific questions to illicit the respondent’s understanding and perceptions of (2) institutions regulating boto tourism, fishing, and human-wildlife interactions. Additional questions gauged respondents’ (3) 19 cultural beliefs, especially pertaining to the legend of the boto. The survey also asked questions to gauge the potential for occupational and familial interaction across the groups, and to gauge the potential for conflicting spatio-temporal territorialities among stakeholders. With two of the more senior fisher participants, a fishing calendar exercise was also conducted to gain insights and detailed information about the most common types of fish caught during different parts of the year, methods and equipment used for each type of fish, and average income earned from fishing. Semi-structured key informant interviews were conducted with fishers (n=7), BIP operators (n=9), community leaders (n=2), and government employees (n=3) to gain deeper insight on their jobs, perceptions of botos, challenges with legislation and enforcement, and relations with other fishers and BIP operators. At BIPs, direct observation of interaction programs with botos was carried out to gain understanding about actual BIP practices. These observations were later compared to information provided in household surveys about the logistics of running a BIP operation. Secondary data collection of Brazilian legislation regulating fishing and wildlife interactions was carried out through the Brazilian legislation web portal (http://www4.planalto.gov.br/legislacao/). Spatial analyses for the spatiotemporal component of the dissertation were conducted using Google Earth Engine and ArcGIS. Spatial and temporal data for the botos were gathered through literature reviews; spatial and temporal data for fishers and BIP operators were collected in the survey instrument. Remotely-sensed data were sourced from the Google Earth Engine platform and layered with fisher and BIP data to create a boto niche model and maps depicting potential spaces of conflict and overlap. 20 Interviews and survey responses were audio recorded, transcribed in Portuguese, and translated to English. Categorical survey data were analyzed with descriptive statistics. Interview and open-ended survey data were analyzed qualitatively through thematic coding using NVivo software; coded data were then sorted by stakeholder group and emergent themes combined by topic. Primary data collection took place from July through August 2016, after a previous 2015 season of pre-dissertation work. Research was conducted along an approximately 95-km stretch of the Rio Negro (Figure 1.1) outside the greater Manaus metropolitan area, where subsistence fisher communities and boto tourism are located in close proximity (»5-10 km) to one another. The study sites were centered around individual boto interaction platforms (BIPs), where boto tourism activities took place. Initially, my sampling methodology for fishing community participants involved searching a 1-km radius of BIPs for residents who were subsistence fishers, but the realities of participant availability required that I expand my search radius anywhere from 3.5-km to nearly 20-km. The largest fishing community I encountered comprised 13 households, though many of the individuals did not reside there full-time. A total of 21 surveys were conducted: 9 household survey questionnaires with fishers, 2 fishing calendar exercises with fishers, and 10 household questionnaires with BIP operators. A total of 21 in-depth, semi- structured interviews were also conducted: 7 with fishers, 9 with BIP operators, 3 with government employees, and 2 with fishing community leaders. 21 Figure 1.1. Map of study area. Sample size was limited due to the logistics of individual artisanal fishers’ schedules, as well as the size and location of communities. For tourism participants, sample size was also limited by the number of BIPs available from which to source participants; at the time of data collection, there were seven known BIP operations in the region, one of which was used as a pilot test for the BIP survey instrument and interview questions. Spatial modelling was included in this study in part to protect the identities and locations of participants. Rather than explicitly discussing respondents’ activities and reported fishing sites, these data were used to determine appropriate remotely-sensed data proxies that would make it less likely for individual identities to be revealed. This was particularly important for fishers, as some reported to have conducted illegal activities. Such information, if linked with individual identities, could have serious repercussions for those participants and others in their communities. Survey and interview questions were also structured in a way that aimed to 22 minimize ethical issues and conflicts, particularly as they pertained to illegal activities (e.g., harming botos) and relations with other fishers or BIP operators (e.g., real names were never used). The research in this dissertation was approved through Michigan State University’s Institutional Review Board (IRB# x16-687e) and housed under research project CAAE #70833817.9.0000.5020, approved through the Universidade Federal do Amazonas (Federal University of Amazonas, or UFAM) Ethics Committee. 1.6 Structure of the Dissertation This dissertation is comprised of five chapters and follows the three-manuscript format with an introductory chapter followed by chapters two, three, and four that are stand-alone manuscripts addressing one or more major themes stemming from the research questions, and lastly the conclusions in chapter five that summarizes findings and presents research implications and limitations. Chapter 2 explores the relationship between botos and the livelihoods of fishers and BIP operators, and suggests possible consequences of provisioning botos. This chapter specifically addresses research question 1, which asks what the role is of economics in boto vulnerability. Fishers and BIP operators both have livelihoods that are impacted by botos; similarly, botos (and the greater ecosystem in which they live) are impacted by BIP and fishing activities. For fishers, the impact, when reported, is overwhelmingly negative; botos are blamed for stealing fish, interrupting fishing activities by scaring away fish, and destroying fishing nets. For BIP operators, their incomes depend on botos; thus, these individuals generally reported a more positive outlook on the role botos play in the local economy and ecology. However, both activities are heavily reliant on the availability of fish. Over time, quantities of fish have decreased as human population along the Rio Negro has increased. Fishers feel pressured to 23 travel greater distances to find substantial fishing grounds, which is complicated by the presence of protected areas. The growing boto tourism industry is dependent not only on fish for its continuation, but also the manipulation of “wild” boto behavior. The long-term effects of provisioning wild dolphins are well-studied among marine dolphins, but unknown among freshwater dolphins. Chapter three explores the role of legislation, regulation, and culture in relations among fishers, BIP operators, botos, and the government. This chapter addresses research questions 2 and 3, which focus on the disconnect between policy and practice, and the role of culture in boto vulnerability. Results suggest a strong dissatisfaction between subsistence fishers and government agencies and policies. While fishers indeed view the boto as a nuisance animal, much of their displeasure lies in what they perceive to be heavy overregulation by the government, and thus a general lack of care or interest in fishers’ livelihoods. BIP operators expressed a more amicable and productive relationship with government agents; however, the activity is only in its nascent stage of regulation and monitoring. In chapter four I describe the spatial and temporal overlap between botos, fishers, and BIP operators. This chapter addresses research question 4, which asks how botos, fishers, and BIP operators territorialize the spaces they use. Using a combination of survey and interview data, and remotely-sensed and other geospatial data, I layered these data with a spatial model to identify ideal boto habitat and potential conflict hotspots. The resulting maps illustrate each group of actants, potential and predicted spaces of overlap, and overall spatial organization. The final chapter serves as the conclusion to the dissertation, and ties together conclusions from each of the preceding chapters within the context of the research questions. 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Using the climate change vulnerability index to inform adaptation planning: Lessons, innovations, and next steps. Wildlife Society Bulletin 39 (1):174–181. 33 CHAPTER 2: DISENTANGLING THE SOCIOECONOMIC AND POLITICAL DYNAMICS AMONG FISHERS, TOURISM OPERATORS, AND THE AMAZON RIVER DOLPHIN 34 2.1 Introduction Human impacts on global ecosystems have grown exponentially over time, with rapid increases in resource consumption, infrastructure development, and population growth, directly encroaching on wildlife habitats, severely depleting food resources, and threatening the survival of many species (Choudhury 2004; Peterson et al. 2010; Barnosky et al. 2011; Dirzo et al. 2014; Ceballos et al. 2015; Ceballos, Ehrlich, and Dirzo 2017). Increased competition for territory and resources, in turn, exacerbate human-wildlife conflicts, resulting in economic and property loss, threats and injury to humans, and retaliation—legal or otherwise—against the animals seen as the culprits. As a result of said human-wildlife conflict, some the world’s most iconic creatures have been pushed to the limits of extinction, some in a matter of decades (Maxwell et al. 2016; Estrada et al. 2017; Hammerschlag and Gallagher 2017). One poignant example includes the northern white rhino (Ceratotherium simum cottoni), whose numbers dwindled from around 2,360 in the 1960s to 30 in April 2003, then down to just four animals in 2004 (Saragusty et al. 2016). Now extinct in the wild, the captive population of northern white rhinos consists of just two females, after the last remaining male died in March 2018 (Ingledew 2018). Other examples include the African lion (Panthera leo leo), who is considered regionally endangered in West Africa, where they have lost almost 99% of their historic range and populations likely number less than 250 adult individuals in the wild (Henschel et al. 2014;); the Vaquita porpoise (Phocoena sinus), down from approximately 567 individuals in 1997 (Jaramillo-Legorreta et al. 1999) to an estimated 59 in 2016 (Taylor et al. 2016); and New Zealand’s Maui’s dolphin (Cephalorhynchus hectori maui), who numbered about 2000 in the 1970s and are now down to approximately 60 individuals (Pala 2017). In the context of this study, the case of the Yangtze 35 river dolphin (Lipotes vexillifer) is perhaps the most striking. An obligate freshwater species in China who was declared in 2006 to be functionally extinct, the once-numerous dolphins were driven to extinction by anthropogenic activities such as intensive fishing practices, pollution, and dam development (Turvey et al. 2007). Another iconic species whose survival is at risk, the focus of this research, is the Amazon river dolphin (Inia geoffrensis), or the legendary “boto,” as it is locally called. In 2008, the IUCN changed the boto’s conservation status from vulnerable to data deficient1 “due to the limited amount of current information available on threats, ecology, and population numbers and trends” (IUCN 2017). However, most researchers disagree with this assessment, and are urgently working to collect evidence required to revise the status to Vulnerable or Endangered, which is complicated by the sheer size and volume of the Amazon river basin that makes research and precision numbers near impossible (McGuire and Aliaga-Rossel 2010). Consequently, concerns are mounting that the boto’s extinction may come long before their status is changed and greater protections afforded. The primary threats to botos derive from anthropogenic activities, including the direct retaliation killing of botos by fishers, or their use as bait; incidental mortality from entanglement in nets or boat propellers; habitat destruction from development, specifically large scale dam projects; and cultural beliefs that view the boto as a threat to human safety and wellbeing, especially problematic if held by those engaged in fishing and new boto tourism opportunities (Romagnoli 2009; da Silva and Martin 2010; Alves et al. 2013a). Much of the research on boto vulnerability focus on threats from fishers, and are framed within the context of conservation 1 The IUCN classifies species into seven categories of threat on the IUCN Red List of Threatened Species: Least Concern, Near Threatened, Vulnerable, Endangered, Critically Endangered, Extinct in the Wild, and Extinct (IUCN 2012). 36 biology, ecology, and natural resource conservation and management (e.g., Loch, Marmontel, and Simões-Lopes 2009; Alves, Zappes, and Andriolo 2012; Mintzer et al. 2013; Brum et al. 2015; Mintzer et al. 2016). These studies describe and quantify the degree and physical characteristics of boto-human interactions, as well as the subsequent harms to the dolphin, but rarely do they consider social factors, like the behavior and attitudes of human stakeholders, which may exacerbate boto vulnerability (Mintzer et al. 2015). Boto tourism literature is also very limited, and what exists focuses primarily on aggressive boto behavior during provisioning programs (Alves et al. 2013a), exploratory descriptions of the activity (Alves et al. 2011), and perceptions of socioeconomic impacts of this form of tourism within a community (Alves et al. 2013b). The goal of this chapter is to fill in some of the gaps in the literature through a study that explores (1) if and how perceptions and behaviors of local resident populations exacerbate boto vulnerability, and (2) the potential of fishing and boto tourism to influence boto ecology and vulnerability. In this chapter, I focus on two of the most popular activities in the region—fishing and tourism—to understand how the interface of power, politics, ecology, and economic factors influence the relationship between humans and the boto, and how these factors might contribute to, or mitigate, river dolphin vulnerability. Considering also the issue of protected spaces within the context of fishing and tourism, this chapter disentangles some of the conflicts and confusion surrounding the often contested relationship between humans and the Amazon river dolphin along the lower Rio Negro outside of Manaus, Amazonas, Brazil. Leveraging semi-structured interviews and household surveys, I analyze the relations between and among stakeholder groups through a political ecology lens, emphasizing social, economic, political, and ecological factors to understand and explain problems that arise between humans and the boto. Key to this 37 framework is the examination of power relations and hierarchies that are essential to elucidate how and why contention within stakeholder groups may exist. This chapter is organized as follows. The section that follows considers the primary local economic activities that lead to human-boto conflicts, namely fishing and tourism. Next, the case study site and specifics of the research methodology are elaborated. The presentation of research and findings follow, and for ease of presentation are structured into two separate discussions for (1) Fisher Communities and (2) BIP Operators. The conclusion summarizes research findings relevant to boto vulnerability and presents policy implications for conservation. 2.2 Human-Boto Conflict and Challenges for Conservation in Amazonia In the Amazon, fish is a staple protein source for people living in riverine communities (ribeirinhos) (Batista et al. 1998; da Silva and Begossi 2009), and consequently, conflicts between humans and piscivorous animals like caimans, giant otters, and river dolphins are common (e.g., Peres and Carkeek 1993; Recharte, Bowler, and Bodmer 2008; Loch, Marmontel, and Simões-Lopes 2009). Federal protections for some species have resulted in the recovery of populations and expansion of range, which has inadvertently brought them into greater contact with human communities, resulting in heightened interactions and conflict (e.g., Recharte, Bowler, and Bodmer 2008; Rosas, Waldermarin, and de Mattos 2008). Local beliefs and perceptions of the animals, and the boto specifically, may exacerbate such conflicts. Boto conservation is complicated by deeply rooted cultural beliefs in the “legend of the boto” (Loch, Marmontel, and Simões-Lopes 2009). Traditionally, interactions between humans and botos were minimized because of a fear of the boto as a powerful, supernatural creature with the ability to transform into a human. According to this legend, when humans came in contact with the boto encantado (an enchanted boto, as opposed to one that does not transform into 38 human form), the consequences were often detrimental (Slater 1994). Interactions with the powerful encantado were taboo, and the belief was that harming these creatures would result in a form of karmic punishment, sometimes resulting in death. Over time, these taboos and beliefs have degraded, and interactions between humans and botos have increased because of population growth, migration to urban areas, education, economic forces and pressures, and other development factors (da Silva and Best 1996; da Silva, Martin, and do Carmo 2011). Today, the artisanal fishing industry is one of the greatest looming threats to the boto. Conflicts between fishers and botos have increased over the past several decades, as botos are frequently seen as competitors for resources and as disruptive of fishing operations (Loch, Marmontel, and Simões-Lopes 2009). Botos are blamed for scaring fish away from important fishing sites, stealing fish from nets, and destroying the nets themselves, all of which cause great financial costs to the fishers (Mintzer et al. 2015). As these interactions increase, so too has the direct killing of botos. In one study, researchers found that the mean number of botos decreased by an average of 10% per year starting in 2000, when the piracatinga fishing industry began to grow (da Silva, Martin, and do Carmo 2011). In the piracatinga fishing community, the boto is slaughtered to use as bait for the piracatinga (Calophysus macropterus), also known as mota, simi, zamurito, or mapurite, a species of necrophagous catfish consumed primarily in Colombia but also increasingly in Brazil as douradinha, or “little dourada” (Trujillo et al. 2010; da Silva, Martin, and do Carmo 2011; Mintzer et al. 2013). Boto meat is allegedly a very effective form of bait, and some fishers claim that one boto carcass can catch around 300 kg of piracatinga (Schelle 2010). Although market prices for piracatinga may not be higher than the majority of fish consumed domestically in Brazil, the large external and growing internal market demands 39 are consistent enough to drive the desire to fish piracatinga (Leonardo Aranha, personal communication, August 2013). Also problematic is the growth of human population in and around Manaus (Amazonas, Brazil), which has increased direct interactions with “wild” botos and energized “boto feeding tourism” (Alves et al. 2011). According to local experts, this new industry inadvertently started in 1998 as a result of a child offering fish to a boto who frequented the area surrounding a floating restaurant in a national park in the municipality of Novo Airão, Amazonas (Moraes 2016). Over time, patronage to the restaurant grew, and excitement spread as entrepreneurial locals began constructing floating platforms or buildings called flutuantes, referred to here as Boto Interaction Platforms (BIPs), and charging visitors to see and interact with botos up-close. Today, local interactions with wild botos is a formal tourist attraction that serves as a primary source of income for some, and reportedly creates economic growth within many communities (Alves et al. 2013b). Despite the explicit goal of said tourism to balance livelihood opportunity for local residents and conserve nature, studies suggest that economic benefits do not extend beyond a small proportion of the local community. In fact, some residents have negative perceptions of these activities, reporting a number of reasons that include limited benefits to business owners, and the disruption of the botos’ natural hunting patterns and the harms that result (Alves et al. 2013b). Furthermore, with the rise of BIPs comes greater potential for injuries to visitors and botos. However, boto tourism has also been presented by scholars as a conservation education tool, with advocates of dolphin tourism claiming that tourist interaction with dolphins creates increased sympathy for boto survival (e.g., Alves et al. 2011). That said, studies do not yet exist that test whether a relationship exists between BIP activities and conservation-minded behavior. Moreover, there is no evidence to support the claim that 40 economic benefits from BIP activities extend beyond those directly employed at the BIP, and indeed, local residents are much less likely than BIP operators to perceive such tourism as beneficial to them (Alves et al. 2013b). 2.3 Study Area and Methodology In an effort to explore the conflicts and confusion surrounding the often contested relationship between humans and the Amazon river dolphin, this chapter presents results from research conducted along the Lower Rio Negro outside of Manaus, Amazonas, Brazil, where the vast majority of boto-based tourism exists, and where artisanal fishing communities are located in close proximity. Manaus, the state capital of Amazonas, draws tourists from around the world, many of whom travel to the region to see its famous pink dolphins. Some of the largest congregations of Amazon river dolphins exist outside of Manaus, which is situated at the confluence of the Rio Negro (a river with dark-colored water) and the Rio Solimões (the sandy- colored Amazon River). Known as the Encontro das Aguas, or the Meeting of the Waters, this confluence serves as a major tourist attraction in and around the city, as well as an ideal feeding zone for the botos. Large quantities of fish swim out of the murkier waters of the Solimões and into the clearer Negro, where the botos are waiting. The botos themselves comprise a significant tourist attraction; in one study conducted in Novo Airão, boto tourism was mentioned the most of all tourist attractions by business owners and local residents (Alves et al. 2013b), edging out even the Anavilhanas archipelago, a national park that is part of a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Study participants: BIP operators and Artisanal Fishers Many sites exist along the Rio Negro that offer opportunities for people to interact with botos. Some of these interactions restrict physical contact with the animals, whereas others allow 41 participants to enter the water and swim with the dolphins. Although the total number of such sites is unknown, growing interest in the activity has resulted in an increase of BIPs in the area. In this study, six of the seven BIPs I encountered were surveyed. A pilot study was conducted at the seventh and newest BIP. Several fishing communities and individual residences exist along the Rio Negro proximate to the BIPs studied in this project. These communities range in size but are generally small, with individual residences that can be located fairly distant from one another. While fishing is the primary economic activity in many of these communities, it is very common in the Amazon for residents of such communities to have diversified economic strategies. With locations near BIP operations, it is possible that local fishers may include BIP activities as one such economic strategy. Data collection and analysis In this work, I borrow O’Brien et al.’s (2007: 76) definition of contextual vulnerability to define boto vulnerability as being “based on a processual and multidimensional view” of human- boto interactions. Here, boto vulnerability occurs in the context of “political, institutional, economic and social structures and changes, which interact dynamically with contextual conditions associated with a particular ‘exposure unit’” (O’Brien et al. 2007: 76). To understand the economic and sociopolitical considerations of boto vulnerability, I conducted in-depth semi- structured oral interviews and household surveys with 10 tourism operators (10 surveys, 10 interviews) on six boto interaction platforms (BIPs) and 11 fishers (10 surveys, 7 interviews, 2 fishing calendar exercises) in small communities and individual floating houses located within a 5 km radius of the BIPs, along a 95 km stretch of the Rio Negro outside of Manaus, Amazonas (Figure 2.1). Half of the BIPs sampled were located within protected areas: two in a sustainable 42 development reserve, one in a national park (IUCN Category II). All fishers resided within these same protected areas, as well as an environmental protection area (IUCN Category V). Figure 2.1. Map of study area along the Lower Rio Negro outside of Manaus, Amazonas, Brazil. Data collection took place in July and August 2016. The interviewer was accompanied by two Brazilian assistants when schedules permitted, and one assistant on all other occasions. Individual BIPs were identified in a preliminary visit in 2015, and tourism operator (BIP operator) participants were recruited by visiting each of the previously identified BIPs, as well as any additional ones that were found during data collection. Fishers were recruited through a combination of door-to-door and snowball sampling. Individual homes and villages that were accessible by boat were approached first within a 1-km radius of each BIP, and if no homes were located, the radius was extended until a home or community became accessible. The largest community sampled consisted of 13 households, most of whom were unavailable during our visits. Participants in communities were asked to identify other fishers; individuals who were 43 primarily agriculturalists were not included in the study. Thus, recruitment was limited by the size of communities, availability of individuals, and distance from BIPs. In the case of BIP operators, sample size was limited by the number of BIPs in operation, and the number of employees working at each platform. Participants were first asked to participate in the semi-structured survey. This survey included questions pertaining to general demographics, job-specific details (e.g., frequency of fishing activity, equipment used, costs and profits, rules and regulations), and observations of human-boto relations. The aim was to collect information necessary to generalize characteristics of stakeholder economic activities, their perceptions of human-boto interactions, as well as their understanding of regulations to guide these interactions. Upon completion of the survey, respondents were asked if they were willing to participate in a more in-depth, open-ended interview. If they agreed, we gave them the choice of completing the interview immediately following the survey, or on a later date. Almost all participants chose to continue with the interview immediately following the survey. Interview questions aimed at understanding the key challenges stakeholders faced with their economic activities, and their perceptions of government and other fishers and BIP operators. Interviews were conducted with limited prompts in order to elicit candid responses that reflected the most important challenges faced by respondents. Individual surveys and interviews lasted between 15 and 90 minutes each, excluding interruptions and pauses (e.g., if a BIP operator needed to attend to guests or if a sudden rainstorm prevented audible communication). Interviews and survey responses were audio recorded, transcribed in Portuguese, and translated to English. Categorical survey data were analyzed with descriptive statistics. Interview and open-ended survey data were analyzed qualitatively through thematic coding using NVivo 44 software; coded data were then sorted by stakeholder group and emergent themes combined by topic. These emergent themes were ranked by importance (i.e., number of references in the data) and are described below; any names used are aliases assigned to participants. 2.4 Results from Semi-structured Interviews and Household Surveys 2.4.1 Socio-economic characteristics of all respondents A total of 11 fishers and 10 BIP operators were surveyed and/or interviewed in this study. Results for each stakeholder group are discussed separately—fishers in section 4.2 and BIP operators in section 4.3—but general demographic information for each group is presented here (Table 2.1). Overall, fishers were older (average of 57 years) with less formal education (average of 3.6 years) than BIP operators (average age of 31.4 years, average education of 7.25 years). Both groups were male-dominant (90.9% of fishers, 80% of BIP operators) with a majority of individuals being lifelong Amazonas residents (100% of fishers, 80% of BIP operators). Similarly, a majority of respondents’ parents (72.7% of fishers, 80% of BIP operators) and grandparents (54.5% of fishers, 60% of BIP operators) were also born in Amazonas. Of those respondents who were aware of the reason for their family’s migration to Amazonas (fishers n=2, BIP operators n=0), they reported that their parents or grandparents were looking for work. The one BIP operator who was born in another state (Maranhão) stated that he moved to Amazonas to work with ceramics. Approximately half of all respondents reported that they always lived in the community where they currently reside (45.4% of fishers, 50% of BIP operators). Of those individuals who had lived elsewhere, fishers tended to have resided in their communities for longer periods of time than BIP operators, but this may be explained by the higher average age among fishers than BIP operators. 45 2.4.2 Fisher results Fisher demographics All fisher participants (n=11; one female) were artisanal fishers who fished primarily for subsistence. Of those who also fished for commerce, their activity was small-scale, selling fish to local communities and consumers, including BIP operators who did not catch their own fish to feed botos. Ages ranged from 38 to 77, with an average age of 57. All fishers were born and raised in the state of Amazonas and have lived in their communities for at least 15 years. Approximately half (54.5%) of respondents had not received any formal education; for the other half (45.5%), education ranged between first and ninth grade, with an average of 3.6 years of education (Table 2.1). Fisher income varies widely throughout the year, as fish are reportedly easier to catch and more plentiful during the dry, low-water season, September through November. It was common for fishers to report earning no income during some months; one respondent had been unemployed for three months at the time of interviewing. Taking monthly income for both seasons into account, including retirement benefits for one fisher (880 BRL/month), fishers reported an average monthly income of 588.75 BRL2 for all economic activities (Table 2.2). 2 Brazilian currency is the real (BRL). At the time of data collection (July-August 2016), the exchange rate was 1 USD = 3.25 BRL. Minimum wage was 880 BRL/month. 46 Table 2.1. Table of fisher and BIP operator demographics. Fishers (n=11) N 7 BIP Operators (n=10) N 10 31.4 (22–48) Mean Mean 57 (38–77) Age* Education (years) 0 1–3 4–6 7–9 10–12 Gender Male Female Birthplace Amazonas Other Brazilian state Family origin** Parents: Amazonas Parents: other Brazilian state Parents: no information Grandparents: Amazonas Grandparents: other Brazilian state Grandparents: no information Time in community (years) 0–15 16–35 Always 6 (54.5%) 3 (27.3%) 1 (9.1%) 1 (9.1%) — 10 (90.9%) 1 (9.1%) 11 (100%) — 8 (72.7%) 3 (27.3%) 1 (9.1%) 6 (54.5%) 2 (18.2%) 3 (27.3%) 1 (9.1%) 5 (45.4%) 5 (45.4%) 3.6 — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — 7.25 — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — 2 (20%) 2 (20%) 1 (10%) 2 (20%) 3 (30%) 8 (80%) 2 (20%) 9 (90%) 1 (10%) 8 (80%) 2 (20%) — 6 (60%) 3 (30%) 1 (10%) 3 (30%) 2 (20%) 5 (50%) *Only 7 of the total 11 fisher participants were aware of their age. **Responses reported here are based on either knowledge of just one family member (e.g., mother or father, grandmother or grandfather) or a combination of both. Many respondents were aware of the origins of only one parent or grandparent. 47 Table 2.2. Average income and income sources for fisher respondents. Average income (monthly) Minimum Maximum Primary income source Fishing Secondary income source Agriculture Tourism Crafts Government aid Bolsa família Bolsa floresta Seguro defeso Retirement Fisher Income 588.75 BRL ≈200 BRL ≈1000 BRL N Amount earned 11 (100%) 200–1000 BRL/month 7 (63.6%) 4 (36.4%) 1 (9.1%) 200–250 BRL/sack of flour 50–60/day 10–15 BRL/item 5 (45.4%) 5 (45.4%) 6 (54.5%) 1 (9.1%) 150–200 BRL/month 45 BRL/month 4 monthly minimum wages*/year minimum wage* *At the time of data collection, Brazil's federal minimum wage was 880 BRL/month, or approximately 270 USD/month (July 2016 currency exchange rate). This average excludes non-retirement government benefits reported by other fishers. These benefits are the bolsa família (n=5), bolsa floresta (n=5), and seguro defeso (n=6). Bolsa família is a federal welfare program that provides families living in poverty (defined as per capita income below 170 BRL/month) a monthly stipend based on the number and ages of children in the family attending school. For families in extreme poverty (defined as per capita income less than 85 BRL/month), bolsa família also provides 85 BRL/month (Brasil 2004). For the four participants who reported receiving bolsa família, the amount of assistance received ranged from 150-200 BRL/month. Bolsa floresta is a state-wide conservation program in Amazonas that provides financial assistance to residents of sustainable development reserves who engage in conservation measures (Fundação Amazonas Sustentável 2018). Participants who 48 reported to receive bolsa floresta pay 5 BRL/month to Fundação Amazonas Sustentável (FAS— Amazonas Sustainability Foundation, a private NGO partnered with Amazonas state government), and receive 50 BRL/month in return. Finally, seguro defeso is a federal program that provides a stipend to artisanal fishers during the fishing moratorium, when fishers are prohibited from fishing beyond a subsistence level. The moratorium period differs depending on location; in Amazonas, it runs from 15 November through 15 March. Individuals who are registered fishers – that is, with a valid fishing license – are entitled to a payment of four minimum wages3 through seguro defeso. Of the government benefits received, seguro defeso was the most complicated for the stakeholders interviewed. In addition to government aid, some respondents reported participation in secondary economic activities. The most commonly reported supplemental activity was agriculture (n=7; Table 2.3), with the primary crop being manioc, which would then be processed for manioc flour. Of the fishers who reported selling the manioc flour (n=4), the range of profit per sack of flour was 200-250 BRL. Fishers reported anywhere from 8 to 30 sacks of flour per harvest season; thus, secondary income from agriculture was highly variable. Tourism activities were the second-most reported source of supplemental income (n=4). These activities included leading excursions like jungle tours, hikes, and canoe trips. Fishers who also worked in tourism reported to earn between 50–60 BRL/day (Table 2.2); one respondent reported to earn 35 BRL/person and would be paid every two weeks. Like agriculture, income from tourism was highly variable. Reported monthly income from tourism ranged from 180– 1080 BRL (the 1080 BRL reported here was split among five individuals within the same 3 One BIP operator reported they received four minimum wages (3520 BRL) as their seguro defeso payment; however, another respondent reported to have received 2000 BRL/year. 49 household). Finally, only one fisher respondent reported the sale of handmade crafts as her supplemental income, earning 10–15 BRL per item (Table 2.2). Costs of Fishing The three main categories of costs associated with fishing were (1) fishing equipment, (2) fishing vessels, and (3) gasoline (Table 2.3). Gillnets were the most commonly used piece of fishing equipment (n=9) and were reported to cost anywhere between 35 to 1,000 BRL per net, depending on the size of the net and the thickness of the mesh. The average reported cost of a gillnet was 267 BRL; the median cost was 70 BRL. These values include two individuals who said it costs them 250 BRL and 1000 BRL, respectively, to make a gillnet themselves. The reported costs of buying materials to repair a damaged net ranged from 10 BRL and 72 BRL, depending on how much line material (generally nylon) is needed for repair. In one community, it costs 30 BRL to have someone else repair your net. While gillnets were by far the most commonly used piece of fishing equipment, other types of equipment used by the fishers include the zagaia (spear; n=5), espinhel (longlines; n=3), caniço (fishing rod made of reeds; n=2), rede arrastão (trawl net; n=2), and currico (artificial bait; n=1) (costs in Table 2.3). The type of fishing gear used depended on the type of fish were being caught, and in what environment. In addition to fishing equipment, fishers depend on two primary types of fishing vessels: canoes and rabetas, which are canoes with a long-tail motor. According to respondents, a small canoe (four meters) costs anywhere from 200–600 BRL; a large one (seven meters) costs around 1200 BRL, and a rabeta costs in the range of 1400–1500 BRL (Table 2.3). All fishers reported to use a rabeta, and stated that gasoline expenditure is a major cost. At the time of this study, the cost per liter of gasoline was 5 BRL. Depending on how often respondents fished, and how far they had to travel to get to their fishing spots, fishers reported using anywhere from 20 to 60 50 liters of gasoline per month (100 to 300 BRL/month) (Table 2.3). However, most fishers reported gasoline usage per fishing trip; this ranged from 5 to 30 liters/trip (20 to 150 BRL/trip). Table 2.3. Reported costs associated with fishing activity. Cost in BRL (range) N Fishing vessel Canoe Rabeta Fishing equipment 6 (54.5%) 11 (100%) 200–1,200 1400–1,500 Gillnet (malhadeira) Spear (zagaia) Longlines (espinhel) Reed fishing rod (caniço) Trawl net (rede arrastão) Artificial bait (currico) Gasoline 9 (81.8%) 5 (45.4%) 3 (27.3%) 2 (18.2%) 2 (18.2%) 1 (9.1%) 11 (100%) 35–1,000 50–60 — — 12,000–14,000 — 100–300/month Primary Topics and Emergent Themes from Fisher Interviews The main purpose of the interviews was to understand 1) the problems and challenges they face as fishers (fishing livelihood and difficulties encountered in fishing), 2) their relationship and interactions with the government (relations with government), and 3) their relationship and interactions with BIP operators (relations with BIPs). Interview questions were open-ended and centered around these three primary topics to see how they might affect boto vulnerability. Interviews were audio-recorded, transcribed, and translated to English, then coded and analyzed in NVivo to identify important key themes within each topic. Within the topic of “fishing livelihood and difficulties encountered in fishing” (n=71), the most prominent themes that emerged from the data were (1) seguro defeso (n=26), (2) conflict with botos (n=21), (3) changes in fishing (n=16), and (4) difficulty of activity (n=8). Themes that emerged within the second topic “relations with government” were (1) government (regulations) (n=31), (2) conflict with government (n=10), and (3) power (n=9). Lastly, two themes emerged within “relations with BIPs”: opinions about BIP tourism (n=6) and changes in botos from 51 tourism (n=6). The codes associated with these themes comprised 61.6% of total coded references. “Ecology and ecological impact”—instances where respondents displayed an awareness or understanding of ecological factors and impacts associated with fishing and BIP activities—was also prevalent in the data (n=25). However, these instances were always mentioned in the context of other themes; thus, they have been incorporated into the discussion of each of the themes presented in Table 2.4. These themes are discussed sequentially in the following sections. Although the theme “conflict with botos” ranks second after “seguro defeso,” it is discussed first, following an elaboration of fisher income data below. Table 2.4. Primary topics of interest and the prominent emergent themes from fisher interviews. Number of coding references Fisher respondents Fishing livelihood and difficulties encountered Primary topics and emergent themes Total: 71 1. Seguro defeso 2. Conflict with botos 3. Changes in fishing 4. Difficulty of activity Relations with Government 1. Government (regulations) 2. Conflict with government 3. Power Relations with BIPs Opinions about BIP tourism Changes in botos from tourism 26 21 16 8 Total: 50 31 10 9 Total: 12 6 6 6 (54.5%) 11 (100%) 10 (90.9%) 5 (45.4%) 8 (72.7%) 8 (72.7%) 5 (45.4%) 2 (18.2%) 5 (45.4%) Primary Topic 1: Fishing Livelihood and Difficulties Encountered (1) Conflict with botos Conflict with botos and its associated costs to fishing were among the most commonly reported themes (n=21). When asked about challenges associated with fishing, all fishers (n=11) responded that wildlife interferes with fishing activity. Botos were the most commonly reported 52 “nuisance animal” (n=11) primarily by destroying gillnets, getting caught in them, and/or stealing fish from the nets. Other reported disruptive non-human animals were the jacaré (black caiman; n=8), otters (n=3), mosquitos (n=2), and piranhas (n=1). With the exception of mosquitos, all of these animals are reported to destroy gillnets and eat fish from the nets. This can be extremely costly to a subsistence fisher, given the average reported cost of a gillnet to be 267 BRL. On average, fishers reported earning a monthly income from fishing of 397 BRL during the “bad” high-water period (May through August in this region) and 724 BRL during the “good” low-water season (September through November in this region). Subtracting an average of 200 BRL/month spent on gasoline from monthly fishing income (Table 2.4), the average fisher may bring home 524 BRL/month during the low-water season and 197 BRL during the high-water season. Conflicts with wildlife, then, can cause extreme financial stress on an individual, especially if gillnets are damaged beyond repair. Fishers also commonly said that wildlife damage their nets all the time (n=19), though for some it happens more in the high-water season, and for others in the low-water season. For some, it happens only when they neglect their gillnets and leave them out in the water overnight. Most fishers talked about staying alert and vigilant when fishing with a gillnet, and not being able to leave it unattended. Leaving a net out and unattended overnight was a surefire way that 1) a fisher would lose fish caught in that net, and/or 2) the net would be destroyed. One has to be vigilant in order to quickly scare off any animal who might be trying to pilfer fish: The boto causes more harm when he takes all the fish from the net. If the person doesn’t come quickly, he takes all the fish and often they come to rip the net and release all the fish, the whole school. This happens a lot. 53 We fish all day, and when 5 pm comes we will remove the gillnet because if we let the night pass, the jacaré picks up the net and [destroys] it... [It only happens] if we neglect it. It’s because of the carelessness, because they like to attack at night, but it’s difficult because we hardly leave at night, except when there’s the potential to catch big tucunaré. Although all fishers expressed frustration with the boto in terms of destructive behavior, many expressed a stronger dislike of the jacaré. The main difference is in the jacaré’s potential danger to humans. Not only is the jacaré capable of destroying fishing equipment, but there is also an associated fear of being attacked or eaten by one: The jacaré destroys everything, too. He eats the fish caught in gillnets and tears [them]. If it’s big it even confronts the guy. He destroys everything, gillnets, everything. They’re worse than the botos. They killed one because he ate four dogs. They’re huge. The boto disturbs the gillnet a lot, we have to be on top looking out [for him]. He rips it, makes a hole, takes the fish. We have to buy another [gillnet]. The boto is still good people, but the jacaré is not my friend, because he wants to eat us. There are more [jacaré] now because there was a time when there were a lot and they [were approved] for killing. Now it’s been more than 30 years that they haven’t released [them] to kill, and there are a lot and they attack to eat us and destroy the gillnets. In this last quote, the respondent is referring to the recovery of jacaré populations in parts of the Brazilian Amazon after the establishment of federal legislation that banned commercial hunting of all wildlife, including jacaré (Lei no. 5.197 de 3 de janeiro de 1967). Previously, they had been hunted extensively for their skin, but protections have allowed some populations to rebound, and in most cases, they are still prohibited from being hunted (Thorbjarnarson 2010). (2) Seguro defeso Seguro defeso was discussed often by fishers (Table 2.2), primarily because it had not been paid out for the 2015–2016 prohibited season. This issue is explored in greater depth in Chapter 3 of this dissertation; however, it is important to note here that all participants who 54 reported to be recipients of seguro defeso (n=6) also mentioned that they had not and would not receive it for that year. When asked why, some respondents simply did not know and did not speculate about the reasons; two attributed the lack of funding to Brazil’s economic crisis and change in government leadership. One fisher stated that he “wasn’t interested,” but went on to explain that he did try to apply for it but was denied by a clerk: I went there and the girl said that I couldn’t receive it, she said that they wouldn’t give it [to me]. But I have a friend who’s a researcher from INPA4 and he said that he’ll do everything to see if it can be done. Regardless of the reason, the lack of payment was problematic for fishers. The lack of income, on top of being prohibited from fishing during this season, made it difficult to survive during these months: In those four months it gets pretty bad, not bad because we’re getting [the seguro defeso], but you catch other types of fish just for consumption. When we received [the payment] it was the same… This fishing business was really good to see if [the seguro defeso] would even be paid out or not, or what we could do to catch a little fish to sell, because all the prohibited time is bad. It’s already [bad enough] that the seguro defeso won’t be disbursed anymore; we have to catch fish to sell. Similarly, when asked about what they would say if they could have contact with people responsible for creating and enforcing laws, one fisher’s wife responded that she would ask for alternative economic and employment options during the closed period of fishing, especially if seguro defeso is not paid out, because they need some way to sustain their households: [I would tell them about] the problem that is happening to us with the fish. We can’t catch these fish, the [prohibited] time has come; no one can catch these fish to sell. So we could ask what we could do during this time that we can’t catch the fish. Since we don’t receive the defeso, it meets the [government] order, and in the end our hands stay tied. As I said, we don’t do anything. Because the fish we won’t be able to sell. You can catch it to eat, but for selling, no. 4 National Institute of Amazonian Research (Instituto Nacional de Pesquisas da Amazônia) 55 (3) Changes in fishing In addition to the struggles stemming from regulations, prohibitions, and a lack of government payment, most fishers (n=10) reported that there have been many changes in fishing since they began. One of the most commonly reported trends was a decrease in fish abundance over time and the concern that fishing would continue to increase in difficulty because of this decline (n=8): Fishing has decreased, because of the quantity [of fish]. The amount of fish has become more difficult and we used to catch more... [It’s going to be] difficult [in 10, 15 years], it’s going to continue to be harder for us to catch. -Caju [I started fishing] to eat and to make money. Because at that time where were a lot of fish, people made easier money... easier than on the farm. Now, it’s getting more difficult... at that time it was very abundant. At that time there was one school of fish after another... now for us to see [a school] is difficult... There are a lot of people and few fish. -Albus The way it’s going, I think [fishing] is going to be a lot harder. A lot. Because as I told you, when I started working it was a lot easier. Wherever you went, you found fish. A week didn’t go by without catching anything. Today you spend a week without catching anything. And every time there’s less fish. First there was a lot. Nowadays there isn’t this amount of fish anymore. Each time it’s getting harder. -Filinho This observation is echoed by studies conducted elsewhere in Amazonia that show trending declines in fishery resources in parts of the Amazon River and its tributaries (Alho, Reis, and Aquino 2015). Generally, fishers in this study attributed the decline in fish abundance to an increase in fishers (n=4) and increase in regulations/prohibitions (n=4) over time. As local communities grew, the number of people fishing in the area also increased, which led to diminished fish resources: 56 [Fishing has] changed a lot, the old man went and caught fish. It’s harder nowadays... because there are a lot of people. At that time only one person lived. Here, there was only one [person]. Not now. -Tom Over the past few years it has gotten worse because there are a lot of fishermen in this world... Now, the change for me was that the fish disappeared. There are much less. -Bob When I started working, there was a lot of fish. Nowadays the fish is very scarce... because it was very few fishermen. People worked hard on the farm. Then, when people began to see the fishing people do well, the number of fishermen increased. That’s why the number of fish declined a lot... When I started, there were very few [fishermen]. And over time, it increased a lot. Four years ago, in front of the community there, in front of that house with the market, I saw one boat there. Three years ago, they had six, seven boats there. There were a lot of fishermen. Not now, that’s over. -Filinho Here, Filinho is talking about the increased need for fishers to travel longer distances to get to appropriate fishing grounds because of competition with other fishers. Another fisher expressed similar thoughts: [Fishing has changed] a lot. At least before we didn’t have to go very far; now we have to go further, due to the population that has grown a lot. -Domus While respondents did not report specific mileage, fishing trips sometimes lasted five or more days in part because of the time needed to travel to the desired fishing location (n=1). Another fisher stated that he would need to cross through Anavilhanas National Park from the south to get to fishing grounds north of the prohibited area, which would be a minimum distance of 130 km, according to park boundaries (see Chapter 4, Figure 4.5). However, these longer trips were a minority of responses pertaining to changes in fishing activity; emphasis was placed on decreased fish availability and an increase in fishers. (4) Fishing as a difficult activity In addition to the difficulties described in sections (1)–(3) above, both fishers and BIP operators agreed that fishing is a difficult activity in and of itself (n=8), whether for sustenance 57 or income. When prompted during interviews to talk about what, if anything, they might change about their work, 45.4% of fishers (n=5) reported that they would change jobs entirely; for some, agriculture is a more preferable form of employment (n=3) because you can control your piece of land, whereas fishing is inconsistent and unpredictable. Moreover, agriculture is not as tightly controlled as fishing in terms of regulations and enforcement, nor are farmers perceived to be as targeted by law enforcement as fishers: It’s not as prohibited as fishing. It’s easier for us to be able to work and have money and not have persecution. I know people who lost their gillnets and it’s really difficult, they [IBAMA] want to take a boat [away] that they’re still paying for, it’s very difficult. The government doesn’t help us on this point, where IBAMA5 takes [from us] and leaves. There are these people that live in the woods, too, but if they go out to the river, IBAMA attacks. Others prefer commercial, mercantile activity (n=1) for its comfort, relative to fishing: “It’s easier, you stay in the shade. In fishing, you’re in the sun, rain, everything.” Three fishers did not express a desire to change employment entirely, but two of them had stopped selling fish commercially, that is, to local markets in Manaus, versus selling in their own communities, because it was no longer worth the effort. According to one respondent, selling fish in the city was inconsistent and unreliable in both the pricing and ability to actually offload the fish to buyers. On top of that, some potential buyers required “schmoozing”: Fishing was harder [when we went to Manaus]. Because there were times when we got there with five, six thousand fish and opened the lid where they put the fish – the batch cap, as we call it – and it sold quickly. But there were times when we got there and spent two or three nights on the raft, waiting for the buyer to buy the fish. I think it was more because of this that I stopped fishing. I spent many sleepless nights there. I had to flatter [people] to buy the fish, and I thought, “You know what, I’m going to stop with this, I can’t do it.” Because the fish gets very cheap. There are times when you get there with five, six thousand [fish] and sell a hundred, what they call a hundred, which is one 5 Brazilian Institute of Environment and Renewable Natural Resources (Instituto Brasileiro do Meio Ambiente e dos Recursos Naturais Renováveis) 58 hundred fish, and it sells for 50, 100, 30 reais. But there are times when you get there and 100 fish are five reais. And you can’t even afford the fuel, that’s why I stopped fishing. One fisher responded that she would try to create an environment that would produce a reliable source of fish. Breeding fish would provide a sustainable and reliable source of fish for which she had control over: I would build a dam or make a tank for breeding, right. To breed fish so that I could just go there whenever I wanted to catch. I would already know where [the fish would be]. - Ty-Anne The unreliability and inconsistent nature of fishing was a shared sentiment among all respondents who fished. When asked about the quantity of fish caught, individuals often talked about how one never knows if there will be fish to sell in a given week. Seasonally, fish are more abundant in the dry season, but there are still days when “luck” plays a huge role: There are weeks that you spend the whole week on the river and don’t catch anything to sell. You catch [something], yes, to feed the household, but to sell you don’t catch anything. There are times that you’ll get five, ten, fifteen thousand [fish] in a week; it largely depends... There are also weeks where you spend the whole week on the river, looking at the river itself. Fishing is luck, fishing is a lottery. It’s not every day you win. - Filinho Primary Topic 2: Fishers’ Relations with Government (1) Regulations and prohibitions In addition to the challenges fishers attributed to wildlife and changing environmental conditions, 72.7% of fishers (n=8) also talked about difficulties they encounter in relation to regulations and prohibitions (n=31) placed on them by local, state, and federal government. Some fishers expressed frustration with what they perceived to be an uneven emphasis on fishing regulations, as opposed to other forms of extractive activities. These fishers felt that unlike 59 activities such as logging, fishing is unfairly and disproportionately targeted by law enforcement, even though other extractive activities are visibly destroying the natural environment: They blocked us from fishing in Anavilhanas, but they don’t monitor it. Anavilhanas is being destroyed by the loggers; people saw wood at night, they’re exhausting it, and the people from IBAMA don’t see this. They haul it out by the river, go by canoe, motorized canoe, and they don’t see this. Anavilhanas is the most beautiful island here in the Amazon and the biggest, and it’s being destroyed by the loggers. -Caju In some cases, fishers felt unfairly targeted by their socioeconomic status, and stated that poor people receive the brunt of punishment and law enforcement, which makes life hard on top of an already challenging form of livelihood: We would complain a lot, because it’s only law for some and for others, they don’t [enforce it]. There is no law for the rich, but for the poor, it’s difficult. -Caju I think [fishing] will remain the same [in five, ten years]. This here, it doesn’t change anything, because from what I understand myself, this IBAMA... there are people who say “it will get better, it will improve”... HA. It’s been 35 years that I’ve heard that IBAMA will improve things, and they’ve made things worse. They never stop chasing, every hour they hunt down more in every way. They prohibit, invent all these laws that make it difficult for us who live along the river. For them who gain from it there, it’s not hard, no. -Ty-Anne Not all fishers thought of the fishing prohibition or fishing regulations as negative, though. Some had a forward-looking approach and considered the well-being and sustainability of future fish populations as a positive consequence of fishing regulations. These fishers understood that some of these laws were meant to prevent exponential decline in fish populations and a lack of reproduction over time: For me, I think it’s good, because sometimes when we catch lots of ovate fish they’ll be missing in the future, even more as the population grows. I see people out there that have trawlers – they catch thousands in each throw, ovate fish, then that fish will not reproduce and in another year there won’t be any, so I think that the law is good, at least these four months of time for them to spawn, make babies. There’s a time that the young 60 jaraqui pass by, it’s a lot, but you don’t catch them, they’re all small. I think the law is good. -Domus Others understood and respected the law, especially in terms of receiving financial assistance during the prohibited season, and saw it simply as part of their daily life: For us, we have already gotten into the habit of respecting this time of the fish. And the fish that are chosen, who are restricted, they’re not for us to fish. We think this is right, because if we already receive... because there’s the season to stop, because there are four months that are restricted, then we have to stop. For us, this year was not good, because of this difficulty that happened. Our money has not been paid, our hands are tied. But this prohibition, we already understand it. We’re already used to it. -Tom and wife (2) Conflicts with government Conflicts with government (n=10), as well as the regulations associated with government, were also reported by a majority of fishers (n=8). A common complaint was the issue of not receiving the seguro defeso payment that year, despite paying the required yearly fee. Particularly for those who live within national park boundaries, the lack of payment, in addition to strict enforcement of fishing regulations, was unjust and exacerbated problems that fishers were already facing. Given these conditions, some fishers felt backed into a corner with no other option but to continue fishing, even illegally, because they were left with no choice: IBAMA harasses a lot the people who go fishing, because they don’t want them to kill, to hunt. They don’t want you to catch turtles. They don’t want you to catch fish from the period that goes from December until March, that’s the closed season, right... that’s the period when there are lots of fish that no one can take, that are reproducing. So it becomes more difficult. If you get caught, they take everything. Because these islands here are all Anavilhanas National Park. So everything is prohibited to fish. Where do we go fishing? You have to fish still. So then we just have to fish in hiding. What do we do, we have to carry it hidden. I’ve talked to them, too, that they prohibit [fishing] because they have their gains, that every day they have a way to buy their food, right. Us, no, we have to search for our food. Because if we stop searching and go live at home, they will not want to support us, but this prohibition remains. -Ty-Anne 61 With some respondents, there was an undercurrent of frustration and fear associated with the regulations affecting fishers. One fisher described life as constantly “running in fear” of IBAMA. Another spoke about illegal exploitation of fish resources in their community, which is also located in a protected area, by strangers who come at night to fish illegally in their waters. According to this fisher, encounters with these strangers can be dangerous; nobody knows who they are, and they come armed with weapons, even though weapons are banned in protected areas. The fisher himself has been robbed by these strangers, and has also witnessed them catching prohibited fish: Nobody knows who they are, they come hidden, when it’s night they enter for fishing. It’s cruel, we face everything armed. These guys are stealing, because they know it’s a reserve, that it’s forbidden to fish, but they keep going. -Patch Despite the difficulties fishers encounter, they also demonstrated an understanding of the ecological reasons behind fishing regulations. Similar to Domus’s response above about allowing fish populations to reproduce and grow in order to ensure a healthy future population, Patch described his community’s fishing behavior as subsistence-based, as opposed to those of the outsiders who are only fishing for profit and waste as much fish as they catch: We here are forbidden to fish for a certain time, because it’s a reserve. But we catch fish to feed [ourselves]. But those people come from outside, at night, and as much as they fish they waste. The young fish, they throw out. We don’t, we take everything. But they only want the big ones, which are for selling, for commercializing. We [fish] only for our own expenses. Almost everyone here does, too. (3) Power Many respondents (n=5) indicated a sense of abuse of power and uneven power hierarchies when discussing the ways in which they have experienced fishing regulations. There were mentions of socioeconomic inequality, where “they target too much we who are the poorest.” This sentiment was also expressed in the regulations and prohibitions section above, 62 with individuals asserting that laws appear to only apply to the poor, and that the wealthy get a free pass. Two fishers mentioned a lack of manners with regards to how enforcement agents handle cases and treat the accused. One described a particular case where things escalated to the point of a shootout, with an IBAMA agent being shot by a resident. Another described what he perceived to be a lack of respect for residents, where agents immediately put guns to people’s heads upon approach. One fisher also expressed disgust over corruption within the judicial system, stating that those in power are often themselves stealing and breaking rules: There was a woman from the next house who was a cook in the penitentiary. She said that the boss in jail are the prisoners, not the police… The judge keeps his pocket full of money. The rope always breaks for those who are weaker… Those who make money, themselves, are stealing, without needing it. If you needed it, OK, but someone who already has money… the one who earns the most money is a politician. Primary Topic 3: Fishers’ Relations with BIPs For the most part, fishers expressed either an ambivalent or favorable view of boto tourism activities. Two individuals commented on how the tourism is good for their communities, either by employing people from within their communities or by attracting tourists to purchase food and crafts from their communities. In this sense, boto tourism is seen as a boon to local communities: People think it’s nice, because the people that work with it are now much better [off]. They help arrange services for young boys6; that’s good, too. -Caju For the people who work [there], it’s good for them. Those from the community only think it’s bad because it disturbs fishing. -Amendoa 6 These “services for young boys” are bototerapia (boto therapy), which is a form of animal-assisted therapy conducted by one individual in the area who provides the service for autistic and physically challenged children. 63 It’s a way of working life for the people. The more tourists [there are] for the botos, [the more] people come. It generates employment for people of the community. My son works there, at night we fish, so it’s not only him, some five, six people from the community – the people of the flutuante give work, so I think this is due to the tourists. If tourists didn’t come... -Domus However, they also often noted that they perceived a change in boto behavior (n=5), and numbers, over time. Botos were reported to be more comfortable and bolder around humans, and more numerous with each encounter. Respondents linked the increased contact and behavioral changes with BIP activities, as well as the fact that people are not supposed to kill botos: They come closer to us, now we touch them. Today we ride on top of them, when they were wild they didn’t let us do this. Now they’ve become tame. I think that it changed, right? Before, you’d go fishing and you’d see two, three dolphins. Nowadays where you go there are five, six, seven botos floating by your side. [It] increased a lot. As you know, the boto, no one kills. Every year it reproduces, reproduces and increases a lot more. Nowadays there are a lot more... At first, the botos didn’t come that close. These days, people have started to feed them, on the side of the rafts. It changed a lot... It affects fishing a little, because at first, as they weren’t tame, you could make any noise and they got scared and went away. Now, no, you make noise for him, and he’s playing. So he doesn’t really even leave. -Filinho Nowadays there’s no way to scare them anymore, because wherever you go, there’s the boto. He is already tame. There are the boto flutuantes and they’ve been tamed already. 2.4.3 BIP operator results BIP operator demographics BIP operator participants (n=10; two female operators), on average, were much younger than fisher participants (Table 2.1). BIP operators averaged 31.4 years old (ranging from 22–48), with a median age of 28; comparatively, fishers averaged 57 years old with median age of 56.5. They also tended to have had more formal education, with only two respondents not having any 64 education, and the others averaging 7.25 years (ranging from 1st to 12th grade). All respondents with a 12th grade education (n=3) worked at the same BIP. All but two BIP operators were born in Amazonas; all but three operators (including the two not from Amazonas) had lived in their communities their entire lives (Table 2.1). As with education levels, BIP operator incomes were, on average, much higher than fisher incomes (1806 BRL/month and 547 BRL/month, respectively). For BIPs with more than two employees, it was common for profits to be pooled at the end of each week and split evenly across all employees. Of the 10 BIP operators surveyed, only one reported BIP tourism to be his secondary source of income (Table 2.5). His reported income of 1600 BRL/month combines his administrative assistant salary with his BIP operator salary. A majority of BIP operators (n=7) reported to also fish for subsistence throughout the year; three reported to sell fish as well. Four BIP operators also participate in agricultural activities, mostly for consumption. The highest reported salary (5000-6000 BRL/month) came from a BIP operator who combined his income from tourism, fishing, and agriculture. Compared to fisher respondents, fewer BIP operators received government financial assistance; two reported to receive bolsa familia, three receive seguro defeso (though not in that year), and one receives assistance for his son with autism. 65 Table 2.5. Average monthly income and income sources for BIP operators. Average income (monthly) Minimum Maximum BIP Operator Income 1,806 BRL 670 ≈6,000 BRL Primary income source BIP activity Administrative assistant Secondary income source N Amount earned (BRL) 9 (90%) 1 (10%) 670–6,000 BRL/month 1600 Fishing 7 (70%) Subsistence 7 (70%) Artisanal/commercial* 3 (30%) 4 (40%) 1 (10%) 1 (10%) Agriculture* BIP activity Snack vendor Government aid for consumption no data for consumption 880 no data Seguro defeso Bolsa família Special needs child 3 (30%) 2 (20%) 1 (10%) 4 monthly minimum wages/year 210 BRL/month 800/month *One respondent included his wife's involvement in artisanal/commercial fishing and agriculture in his response. His wife is also one of the recipients reported here to receive bolsa familia. BIP Operations Admission fees for the six BIPs ranged from 10– 30 BRL/person, with an average rate of 18.33 BRL/person. At one location, children aged 0–4 and adults over 60 were charged at half the normal rate for 7.50 BRL/person. Visitation varied drastically, with most BIP operators stating that highest visitation occurs from May or June onward, coinciding with school holidays and periods when people are on vacation (Table 2.6). Responses about lowest visitation varied a lot, but February was a common month reported to have low visitation, which was attributed to Carnaval celebrations. Some operators also correlated low visitation with the dry season, as access to their locations becomes more difficult when water levels decrease. Many of the 66 flutuantes are moved to different locations during the dry season, as the BIP operators seek out deeper water or choose to anchor their flutuantes on the riverbank. Business hours were generally from 7 am to 5 pm, but varied by location. All BIP operators ran their businesses the same way throughout the year, maintaining the same hours and rates regardless of seasonal changes. Table 2.6. Months of highest and lowest BIP tourist visitation. Numbers indicate number of BIP operators who reported visitation (high or low) for that month. Highest visitation Lowest visitation Jan Feb Mar Apr May June July Aug Sept Oct Nov Dec 2 3 1 — — 1 2 — — 1 3 3 1 — 1 1 3 2 3 2 4 1 2 1 Table 2.7. BIP costs of operation. Admission fees Lifejackets Cost of fish Gasoline Maintenance Structure Cost (BRL) 10–30/person 25–35/jacket 75–4,000/month 400–1,800/month ≤3,000/month 10,000–40,000 BIPs are costly to start up—the platform and structure itself can cost anywhere between 10,000–40,000 BRL to build (Table 2.7). In addition to the structure, those operators who follow the informal rules and keep 20 lifejackets at the BIP spend 25–35 BRL per lifejacket and must replace them several times a year as they wear out. Monthly maintenance on the BIP can cost upwards of 3,000 BRL/month for BIPs with a solid, house-like structure built onto the platform. Gasoline for transportation is also an expense for all BIP operators, and costs between 400 and 1,800 BRL/month. The cost of fish for feeding the botos can also be expensive for those operators who do not catch their own fish. For the largest operation, their average monthly cost for purchasing fish was estimated to be around 4,000 BRL. Other reported costs ranged from 75– 3,000 BRL. It is important to note that all these amounts were estimates, and the quantity and 67 price of fish purchased was reported to change seasonally as fish became more and less abundant. Obviously, smaller operations with less visitation needed less fish. Three of the BIPs had employees who caught fish for the operation; one respondent said he fishes every off-day and catches approximately 100 fish per day. For him, catching his own fish was a cheaper and healthier option for the botos, as fish purchased commercially come frozen. Primary Topics and Emergent Themes from BIP Operator Interviews The main purpose of these interviews was to understand 1) the positive and negative aspects of BIP tourism, and 2) the problems and challenges they face as BIP operators (BIP operator livelihood and difficulties encountered). As with the fishers, interview questions were open-ended and centered around these three primary topics to see how they might affect boto vulnerability. Interviews were audio-recorded, transcribed, and translated to English, then coded and analyzed in NVivo to identify important key themes within each topic. Within the topic of “positive and negative aspects of BIP tourism” (n=142), the most prominent themes that emerged from the data were (1) ecology and ecological impact (demonstrating an awareness or understanding of ecological factors and impacts, n=118), (2) education and community (commonly framed as benefits from BIP activities, n=40), and (3) conflict (among botos, with tourists, and involving fishers, n=36) conflict with botos (n=21). (3) changes in fishing (n=16), and (4) difficulty of activity (n=8). Themes that emerged within the second topic “BIP operator livelihood and difficulties encountered” were (1) regulating BIP tourism (n=103), (2) livelihood (n=19), and (3) competition (n=17). The codes associated with these themes comprised 80.4% of total coded references (Table 2.8). 68 Table 2.8. Prominent emergent BIP operator themes subdivided by their associated coding references. Primary topics and emergent themes Positive and negative aspects of BIP tourism Number of coding references Total: 142 BIP operator respondents 1. Ecology and ecological impact 2. Education and community 3. Conflict among botos with tourists involving fishers 118 40 12 14 10 10 (100%) 9 (90%) 7 (70%) 6 (60%) 9 (90%) BIP operator livelihood and difficulties encountered Total: 139 1. Regulating BIP tourism Government BIP rules 2. Livelihood Competition 57 46 19 17 8 (80%) 8 (80%) 3 (30%) 4 (40%) Primary Topic 4: Positive and Negative Aspects of BIP Tourism (1) Ecology and ecological impact All BIP operators (n=10) demonstrated recognition that BIP activities may have long- term impacts on wild botos. Conditioning wild animals to feed from humans, and in some cases beg for food from humans, is almost always detrimental to wild populations. In the case of BIP activities, fishers and BIP operators alike mentioned changes in boto behavior over time; most notably in their willingness to approach humans and to not be as easily scared by loud noises, like slapping the surface of the water with an oar. When asked if they knew where botos went when not at a particular BIP, operators responded that botos hunt for food in the river or flooded forests, but also acknowledge that they have been known to visit other flutuantes, or at least have the potential to: It’s certainly possible that they leave here to go to the other locations that are nearby. Or they hunt fish in the streams or flooded forests. -Remela 69 I think that they’ve gotten closer to where activity is taking place, they do not travel farther, where they used to go. This will happen with any animal when it’s treated well; that is, when it’s actually fed and I think what has changed was this, the distance that they used to swim, travel. -Chuva [Their behavior] must have changed, because before they didn’t come to the flutuante. Now they are coming. They leave one flutuante and go to the other. Before, they only hunted in the river; today they look for food at the flutuantes, they leave one and go to another. -Vahik They’re at another flutuante and hunting, because the schools of jaraqui are now passing through the river. -Edwin Given that it’s now the season of the flooded forest, they stay in the vegetation, following the fish. And they can also go to other platforms that have interactions with botos, too. - Fred Like any animal, botos seek out food sources, and will frequent locales that provide easy meals. However, botos are naturally solitary animals, and BIP interactions may artificially bring botos into close proximity with each other when they otherwise would not. A majority of the BIP operators (n=8) stated that aggressive behavior between botos is very common, occurring all the time but primarily when food is present. Developing a dependency on human-provided food is a habit that at least three BIP operators recognized to be a negative impact on botos, citing their personal observations that botos do not travel as far to hunt anymore because of the consistent food source at BIPs. However, there is no evidence currently to corroborate these claims. Moreover, despite the easy source of food provided by BIPs, operators were divided in their perceptions of whether the number of botos have increased (42.8%) or decreased (42.8%) over time. Despite all the ways in which BIP operators may be propagating negative impacts on boto ecology and behavior, they also have an understanding of the potential long-term impacts of 70 boto-feeding tourism. For example, Watson stated that BIPs are ever-increasing, and that this could lead to lots of problems for the boto, “like not being able to hunt anymore. They don’t go out too far to hunt anymore, because they are feeding all the time and that is not good.” Similarly, another respondent, Junior, stated that preservation is necessary because if we did not have it, “in a while we will not have these animals. The human being is horrible, the worst predator.” (2) Education and community The two most commonly reported benefits of BIP tourism were (1) economic benefits to local communities, and (2) increasing awareness and education about the boto for both local residents and tourists. A common practice with local tour companies is to combine a BIP excursion with a visit to a local community, where tourists often buy refreshments and handmade crafts. Some BIP operators described the boto herself as a tourist attraction that draws people to the area from around the world, which also helps to stimulate the tourism-based economy and provide employment for those who work in the tourism and hospitality industries: Yes, communities [have] benefitted. Where I live, no, but others in the area of the Rio Negro have people that will have lunch, will swim, will do hikes, all these things. It benefits a lot. -Watson The boto attracts [people] not only here from our Brazil, but from abroad, too. A lot of people are coming. If we keep bringing benefits, yes, because the people come, go visit the community, have lunch, go buy some water in someone’s tavern. So it does bring benefits. Because they are coming to see the boto, but they won’t stand a day of hunger. They’ll go to lunch, they’ll visit the community close-by. And so they will help, down the road. -Vahik The community, it’s a tourist attraction, because lots of tourists come. Every time that tourists come, they buy something from the community. It’s income for the community and a tourist attraction. -Edwin 71 In the Amazon, the tourists come to see the botos, animals, jaguar, monkeys. If they disappear, everything would be harmed, especially the influx of tourism in Manaus. - Rosa People [in my community] think [the boto] is good, because people go there, to the community, to bring family members to see. We don’t charge anything. I’m with a project to do, I don’t know if it will work out, to do that boto therapy, with special children. -Fred It’s remarkable the development of the city from the boto. What promotes tourism, what makes the money, the income in the city, revolves around tourism. It’s the boto. So even not having governmental aid, what revolves, what provides the vast majority of income is the boto, is tourism. Many people work in hotels, many work as guides, many work as an instructor, like me, so it generates income for the city, for local, native people. -Junior However, according to the president of a small community located near the BIP at which Junior is employed, these benefits have never been felt in their community. He stated that there has not been the type of partnership between their community and the local BIP as was described by the respondents above, and that they had not even spoken with the owner of that BIP. In this case, it appears that the community president’s perception of this particular BIP is that it is entirely self- contained in terms of benefits and revenue: ...I think that it brings almost no benefit to the municipality... No one hears or speaks [to the owner of the BIP], it has not brought any benefits to the community. They have never appeared here. That’s what we find strange, because what it is to be a partner, to be a partner is when you seek knowledge, when you bring an alternative and come and talk to us to work on it... Today there is no change because our rulers make change only for whom there is money, and then we become a discredited people in politics. Educating the public and members of their own and surrounding communities was a common theme among BIP operators. They often talked about how opinions have changed over time in regards to the boto, with people becoming more accepting and less scared of them. In this way, BIP tourism is seen as playing an important role in breaking down cultural beliefs about the 72 boto as a dangerous animal. Having these in-person experiences with the animals is also thought to foster support for conservation: Now, the people [from my community] are becoming more affectionate with them, because of our work. And also they saw that they don’t hurt anyone. They’re docile animals, docile animals. -Rosa I believe more in their preservation, because here it’s a park and they are protected, but outside the park much illegal fishing of dolphins still happens. I think today, with this activity, the community is more sensitive, they already think more [about] conservation and preserving [the boto]. -Junior [Retelling the legend of the boto] is for people not to be afraid of the animal anymore. Because, because of this legend, the animal was very mistreated. They killed him for fear of something that has no purpose at all, there is nothing. Just mess up an animal because it will charm you? Take you to a submerged kingdom? It’s not worth it to be reinforcing that the animal is dangerous, when in fact it is only an animal that needs care like any other without being invaded. And that’s it, it’s an animal you have to take care of. You need not be frightening, hurting the animal, right. -Tripp Education and growth of oneself was also a common theme among BIP operators. They told stories of how they themselves had preconceived notions of the boto as a dangerous animal, oftentimes because of the legend, but through their work they learned to understand the animal better. Over time, their fear dissipated and they gained understanding of how to live alongside botos: The people said that the boto was going to give us a headache. We were not to look at the boto; he would go after us. I couldn’t get in the river, especially when I was in those times [menstruating]. Then, when I had contact with them, I saw that none of this was true. So it changed me, because if we put something in our head, we think that animal is going to hurt us... But after having this contact with them, we saw that it was not. I discovered that when they follow the canoe, it’s because they’re curious animals. They want to see up close... To be sure what it is. So it’s not trying to hurt [anyone]. -Vahik’s wife I used to think [botos] were annoying. But today, whoever can preserve more, it’s better. -Remela 73 [My thinking about the activity] has changed, I think the approach. I’m like as if it were my dogs; I have affection for them. -Chuva We learn to live with them and learn to respect them. I’m not going to put my net here, knowing that they’re here. So I’ll look for a place where they’re not. I’ll observe first to be able to drop my net. I’m respecting them already, I won’t put it here and then be beating them, hunting them, knowing that they will harm me by ripping my net. This is their place. You have to see them first, respect them, to be able to keep myself going. If everyone did this... but unfortunately there are people who still don’t have [respect for them]. -Vahik [When I was younger], I was scared of the boto. I never went close to a boto. They said that the boto would go up on land, with a white hat, to take people. I was afraid, now I’m not. ...After being an adult, seeing the interaction, [this changed my perception]... I was seeing that the boto was not how the people said it was. It’s like a dog, an animal like another animal. You lose the fear. At first I wouldn’t even go in the water, my colleague was who entered. I thought that you had to have lots of courage. Now, no. You lose your fear. -Fred (3) Conflict Eight of the BIP operators noted that aggressive behavior between botos occurred often, and as they observed it, occurred for three primary reasons: (1) disputes over food, (2) disputes among males over females, and (3) aggressive behavior from female botos with young. Disputes over food most commonly occurred between male botos, with the larger males tending to be more aggressive. Males were also dominant over females and showed aggression towards other male botos if a female was present. While it was less common, female botos also demonstrated aggression, though this occurred primarily with mothers who had calves. When it comes to food, their behavior is kind of aggressive toward one another... [When] it’s time to feed, they keep pounding. They’re tame, they come waiting to get affection... And they get very aggressive when they are in their mating season, [there’s a lot of] fighting between males. -Vahik 74 When they’re really hungry, and we don’t feed them, they get a little aggressive. ...[They’re more aggressive] when they’re competing for a female, several males come together to compete for the female. They start fighting, battling each other. -Remela Actually, when there are males, the female boto doesn’t bring her calf close by. They could hit him. The males always dominate the females. I think the conflict is just between them, especially when there are schools of fish. We see several botos competing for fish in the school and see one separated there, far away. It’s the mom with her calf that are there, distant from the group. -Chuva If you throw a fish they will fight for the fish. -Fred Between them, yes, [I’ve seen aggressive behavior between botos]. Because of the disputes over food. It’s always like this. -Watson Dani [has been aggressive with others], but she has justification, she recently had a baby. Then if other dolphins come close to her calf she wants to bite the others, it’s the maternal instinct, a kind of postpartum stress. -Junior When asked if they had ever seen a boto acting aggressively towards a human, 8 out of the 10 BIP operators responded that they had not. Of those who had, one operator described the situation as being the result of humans instigating the boto. It was the only time he witnessed this happening and the boto was not to blame, because he was attacked: Yes, because the guy assaulted him. He held him with his leg and grabbed his private part. The boto reacted. But this was the only time I saw. -Watson The other operator described a scenario where fishers were trying to protect their net from a boto who had taken hold of it. The fishers slapped the water to try to scare the boto away, but instead, the boto rammed the boat: There were some fishers who were fishing there, with a net, and a boto started to take the net from them, and they started hitting the water. And the boto came, a little aggressive on top of them. They [the fishers] didn’t come to attack [the botos], but [the botos] stayed under the canoe. And I have a cousin, too, she kept hitting the water, and the boto hit the canoe, and she climbed up a tree and hung, and my brother-in-law went to save her. And it was the boto that was trying to bite and get her. -Remela 75 Seven of the BIP operators reported seeing humans acting aggressively towards botos. Three of these operators told stories of fishers being the main aggressors; four told of stories of visitors (usually drunk) harassing botos by trying to hold them or feed them inappropriate items like alcohol. For visitors to BIPs, the primary technique described by BIP operators to avoid such behavior is educating tourists before and during interactions on how to properly interact with botos. However, based on personal observations, these lectures are not always thoroughly given (if at all), and when given, visitors are not necessarily paying attention. Moreover, for those visitors whose tour guides give the lecture prior to arriving at a BIP, it is unknown whether the information that has been provided to them is correct. Regardless, even if a lecture is properly given, tourist behavior is often out of the hands of BIP operators. We give instructions, explain the reason for the rules, but the visitors, they don’t have the awareness. At first sight they [just] think of their sense of pleasure, their [own] well- being, they don’t think much about preservation, local biodiversity, of the animal. I think [I’d like] a little more awareness on the part of the visitors. -Junior In regards to aggressive behavior on the part of botos, some BIP operators stated that to prevent or stop such aggressive behavior from happening, they would throw fish away from the group to make one or more botos leave. Several BIP operators explicitly stated that they do not do this, because they understand that doing so conditions the animal to correlate aggression with being fed, which would lead to more aggressive behavior. However, at one BIP there were BIP operators who reported using this technique, while others reported avoiding that technique. Primary Topic 5: BIP Operator Livelihood and Difficulties Encountered (1) Regulating BIP tourism The two most common themes pertaining to regulating BIP activities dealt with government itself and BIP rules. While BIPs had not yet been formally or officially regulated at 76 the time of data collection, there were several informal rules proposed by IBAMA and ICMBio7 to mitigate potentially harmful impacts of BIP activities. A comprehensive list of these rules can be found in Chapter 3. For the purposes of this chapter, relevant rules include: 1. Providing a lecture before interaction activities to inform visitors about aspects of the biology and behavior of botos, and on the standardization of activity. 2. Mondays and Wednesdays are “days off” for the botos. BIPs must not be operational on these off days. 3. A maximum of 80 visitors per operational day. 4. Groups entering the water must be a maximum of 10 people. 5. Visitors should not intentionally touch the botos. 6. Visitors should not apply sunscreen or insect repellant before entering the water. Similarly, wristwatches should be removed before entering the water. 7. Botos can be fed a maximum of 1 kg of fish per day, per boto. Additionally, some BIP operators mentioned being required to have a fire extinguisher and keep a minimum of 20 lifejackets on the BIP for visitors, who must wear the lifejackets when in the water. However, these rules, as well as those mentioned above, are not followed by everyone, which can lead to frustration and confusion among operators. While some BIP operators expressed uncertainty about the future of boto tourism because of heightened concern over the welfare and well-being of the botos (and thus, a push for formal legislation and regulation of BIPs), others expressed approval of stronger enforcement and/or a desire for more enforcement. I think that... it’s really good now, that they’re always enforcing. Before, there wasn’t control of the fish, there wasn’t control of people... there were 20, 30 people in the water interacting with botos... Before, the water was full [of people], now it’s controlled. Now, with the meetings, with the boatmen, now they come well-informed... this is really good, [that] they’re monitoring this. -Edwin 7 Instituto Chico Mendes de Conservação da Biodiversidade (Chico Mendes Institute for Biodiversity Conservation, an administrative branch of the Brazilian Ministry of Environment) 77 Those who supported regulation and enforcement generally expressed interest in the well-being of the animals, and opined that stronger enforcement is necessary to protect wildlife and the environment: Yes, [I think all wildlife should be protected]. In this case, especially in this case, the person is drinking and gives drinks to the animals... if you want to work there, there should be protection to not hurt the animals. -Edwin It’s good to always have oversight, but I think that enforcement is very weak still. For logging, they still extract a lot of wood, fishing, people kill the manatee, [and] that is also prohibited. I think it’s still very weak, they have to be more rigorous. -Fred Fred also went on to say that if he could have contact with people who are responsible for creating laws, he would tell them to “enforce more, research more about the species, see what is happening, if it’s good for the animals or not.” On the other hand, those who expressed less approval of government interference generally reported uncertainty about the future, particularly with regards to what they would be allowed to do, and whether or not the activity would still exist. When asked what he thought tourism with botos would be like in 5 to 10 years, one BIP operator responded: I think that it will become difficult, because from year to year they put a new rule for us. I think by then I won’t even be able to enter the water. Every year they put a different rule, every year. -Rosa Five years from now, you may not even be able to get into the water anymore, because they’re wanting you to not get into the water anymore. Only to observe. Maybe in five more years I won’t have this contact with botos anymore. -Vahik However, Vahik also told us that the informal rules put in place are not enforced. There is no enforcement. They make a rule but have no enforcement. [There are people] who work on days that are not for working. And there is no supervision or enforcement... There are people who today aren’t working, but if you go to another flutuante, they don’t do it here, but there’s another one who does. 78 Here, he is talking about the informal rule put in place that dictates which days a BIP can and cannot operate. As of the time this study was conducted, BIPs were supposed to be closed on Mondays and Wednesdays, as a way to mitigate the impacts of feeding wild botos. These days are the botos’ “days off,” so that they could hunt freely and naturally, rather than continuing to be conditioned to feed from humans. When discussing interactions with government agencies or representatives, respondents sometimes reported feeling disrespected, unheard, or misunderstood. One BIP operator stated that they hold meetings with government agents, but that they don’t always understand their point of view: We have contact [with them], we say a lot of things, too. It’s very rare they understand our side, too, But many times they understand. Like the limitation of people, they wanted us to limit to 40 people per day. We spent almost a week arguing and we got it to stay at 80. Many understand us, but many don’t. -Rosa (2) Livelihood and competition Over time, BIP operators (n=4) have begun to feel the effects of competition from other BIPs. One respondent talked about how one of the stipulations from local government is that they are supposed to generate more business for the community, and to hire more people from local communities, but this is no longer possible because other flutuantes undercut their admission fees and dilute the number of visitors, thus lowering their income: But today, no one has these conditions... because several places have been opened in various locations and tourism is falling... Before, we earned more. Now, we don’t earn as much, because with this price that we’re working at, we no longer have the conditions to hire. Because the other [flutuantes], while we charge 10 BRL per person, they charge 7 BRL, 5 BRL. ...Now that they’ve had a meeting, it was changed to 30 BRL. But we don’t have conditions, because some comply with the rules and others don’t comply. Another respondent, who opened his operation in 2009, said that originally, they were told by someone from ICMBio that they could not continue with their BIP because they were situated in 79 between two existing flutuantes and that they were too close. He went on to say that they worked it out with a researcher from one of the agencies, who helped them meet the necessary standards to operate their business. Over time, however, other BIPs have been created nearby, which has had an impact on their business and visitation rate: They got in the way a bit, they disturbed [our business a little]. Before, a lot of people came here, now they don’t come anymore. Almost half of the BIP operators stated that their interactions with botos have decreased since they first began to work in the area, and this is sometimes attributed to competition from the growth of BIPs: Interactions with them have decreased. I’ve already worked four days... there’s no work. Other people come that work with them, other families, other people. ...I think that a lot is changing, because before it was only us. Now there’s – there are two here, another one... another restaurant. It’s increasingly getting crowded, more people are working with the boto. The number of botos has also decreased. Sometimes we had 15, 20 botos, now there are only 4, 3... In a while there will be more flutuantes and few botos. There are days where there aren’t any botos here... sometimes they’re over there. -Edwin [This activity] is growing. Before, it was just one platform, now there are six. I also think that you can’t put anymore. Those who have [one], have [it], those who don’t, can’t anymore, to not have too many people interacting at the same time. -Fred 2.5 Fishing and Tourism, Tourism and Fishing Depending on the area, the subsistence fishing and boto tourism communities overlapped economically. Fishers sometimes sell their fish to BIP operators, and several fishers reported that they have sons or other family members who work at a BIP. Beyond BIPs, some fishers also worked occasionally in other realms of tourism; for example, as canoe or jungle guides, where they could earn up to 50 BRL per day of work. All but three of the BIP operators (all of whom worked at the same BIP) also fished for subsistence, and thus understood the frustrations associated with disruptive wildlife during fishing activities. 80 While there was some overlap in the types of fish caught for subsistence fishing and BIP use, there were also many species used for BIPs that fishers did not report catching often (Table 2.9). The most commonly reported types of fish caught by fishers were jaraqui (90% reported), tucunaré (70%), matrinxã (60%), pacu (40%), cará (30%), and piranha (20%). BIP operators reported that the fish they used the most were cubiu (90% reported), jaraqui (80%), sardinha (60%), branquinha (60%), mapará (40%), pacu (20%), piranha (20%), and tucunaré (20%) (Table 2.9). Botos preferred cubiu, sardinha, and mapará. Of these species of fish reported by both groups, jaraqui was the only one that was used heavily by both fishers and BIP operators. Respondents’ perceptions of amount of personal interactions with botos, and quantity of botos, were fairly similar across groups. However, fewer fishers reported that the number of botos, or interactions with them, have decreased, as compared with BIP operators. Among BIP operators, 42.8% of respondents said that their interactions with botos have increased over time, 28.5% reported a decrease in interactions, 42.8% reported an increase in boto numbers, and 42.8% reported a decrease in boto numbers (Table 2.10). Among fishers who were interviewed, 57% of them reported an increase in interactions; 14.3% reported a decrease in interactions; 42.8% reported an increase in boto numbers; and 14.3% reported a decrease in numbers. 81 Table 2.9. Types of fish and percentage of respondents who reported to catch them (fishers) or use to feed botos (BIP operators). 100% 37.5% 12.5% 12.5% 37.5% 12.5% 12.5% Type of fish Fishers (n=10) BIP operators (n=8) Jaraqui Tucunaré Cará Matrinxã Pacu Piranha Tambaqui Acará Traíra Aracú Carabaru Curimatã Dourada Filhote Jandiá Pirarara Cubiu Sardinha Branquinha Mapará Cascudinho Jatuarana 100% 70% 60% 60% 40% 20% 20% 20% 10% 10% 10% 10% 10% 10% 10% 10% — — — — — — 100% 75% 62.5% 50.0% 12.5% 12.5% 12.5% — — — — — — — — Table 2.10. Fisher and BIP operator responses to changes in boto numbers and frequency of interactions over time. Change over time Fishers (n=7) # botos increased # botos decreased Boto interactions increased Boto interactions decreased 42.8% 14.3% 57.0% 14.3% BIP operators (n=7) 42.8% 42.8% 42.8% 28.5% While fishers tended to have neutral or favorable responses to questions about their opinions about the boto, or their perceptions of what members of their communities think about the boto, BIP operators tended to describe the fisher-boto relationship much more negatively. 82 Many of their stories centered on fishers attacking and harming botos, sometimes with harpoons or spears, out of frustration when a boto takes fish or ruins a gillnet. BIP operators reported this behavior to occur very frequently: It’s very frequent, it’s horrible. It’s the fishermen themselves, the villagers themselves, [who are aggressive with the boto]. [In the last week, I’ve seen this] five or six times, more or less... It happens because sometimes he goes out to fish, and has his net, a gillnet, and shows aggression to the boto. He can pierce him with a harpoon, pierce him. Shot him on the beak, here. Hit him right on the mark. -Remela Here at first there were a lot of fishing boats that were fishing jaraqui. We started to talk with them [to tell them] that they couldn’t, that the boto would rip [their net]. They would harpoon [it], then they left and don’t fish here anymore. In other places they’re still there, they fish, they hurt the boto. From here to there a dead boto appears, but it’s coming from the other places. -Edwin One BIP operator reported there to be fisher animosity toward other people and to BIPs specifically, making it difficult for him to interfere with harmful behavior if and when he sees it: Oh, this I’ve seen. The fisher himself, who fishes with a net, has anger towards the boto. He doesn’t know that the animal is docile. And always mistreats the animals, yes. ...It’s difficult for you to control a fisher so he doesn’t hit and doesn’t attack [botos], because you talk with them so that they don’t do it, and sometimes they even attack people. So you have to be cautious with them. “Oh, will you give me a gillnet if it rips?” That’s all they talk about. And it’s hard, it’s not easy. You have to make them aware that they can’t attack, beat [the boto], but there isn’t a way. It’s not easy. And if you speak louder with them, they already want to set the platform on fire, loosen the cables, all this. It’s not easy. It’s a war. -Fred 2.6 Synthesizing Stakeholder Views and Moving Toward Sustainable Relationships Fishers The moratorium on fishing was developed in large part as a response to increased known occurrences of boto slaughter. The moratorium, in conjunction with other challenges faced by fishers (e.g., decrease in fish abundance, increase in fishing competition, increased interactions with botos), is a point of contention for some (not all) fishers who participated in this study. 83 However, there are other issues from which these frustrations and feelings of contention likely stem. It is important to differentiate conflict between fishers and botos as conflict that arises from anthropocentric malice (e.g., attacking a boto as a pre-emptive measure, or simply for disliking the animal), and conflict as a result of the type of fishing gear being used. Fishers only reported botos being disruptive when using gillnets; they generally did not disturb fishing activities utilizing other types of fishing equipment. Fishers also talked about how they had learned over time to not leave gillnets unattended, especially overnight. These may be useful points to consider in future conversations about strengthening or loosening fishing policies, or in discussions with fishers about the interactions they have with botos. Perhaps there are additional ways to circumvent negative interactions for the benefit of both fishers and botos, thus decreasing overall long-term boto vulnerability. It is clear that many fishers are frustrated with the government, and with fishing regulations enforced (albeit sometimes unevenly) by the government. Some fishers feel that the government cares more about wildlife than the people who live amongst that wildlife, and this imbalance of power makes some individuals feel voiceless and unheard. They may also be more likely to retaliate against the wildlife, heightening vulnerability of certain species. Stronger dialogue and open channels of communication between fishers, or fishing community leaders, and local, state, and federal government representatives may help alleviate some of this contention. Without providing fishers with some sort of viable alternative to earning income, legislation— no matter how strongly enforced— may do more long-term harm than good. However, it is also important to keep in mind that fishers are not without faults; strong legislation and effective enforcement of environmental legislation is clearly important for 84 mitigating boto vulnerability, among other things, but use of excessive force likely exacerbates any ill-will on the part of fishers toward government. Given the problems BIP operators already face in competing with other BIPs, it is unlikely that these boto tourism initiatives can serve as a viable economic alternative for fishers. While there are some fishers who do work in boto tourism, they are very few, and BIP operators are already struggling to stay afloat in light of the growing industry. Moreover, with newly enacted legislation that regulates BIP activities (SEMA Resolução/CEMAAM n° 28, de 22 de janeiro de 2018), BIP operations may change significantly over the next few years, limiting their growth further. BIP operators The potential impact of BIP activities on boto behavior and ecology could be great. If BIP operators are using fish not only to lure botos to their platforms, but also to separate or distract botos when they are acting aggressively toward each other, they are inadvertently conditioning them to behave this way while also teaching them that BIPs are, indeed, a constant and reliable food source. It is evident from BIP operator responses that the botos who frequent their BIPs also visit the other BIPs. They recognize many of the “regulars” based on physical characteristics and features, like a scar on one boto’s back (Cicatriz) or a crooked beak from being harpooned (Curumim). Curumim has been spotted at flutuantes throughout the region, spanning the entire 95 km in which this study takes place. The feeding regulations that limit each BIP to a maximum of 2 kg of fish per day per boto may not make a difference in the end. If the limit is supposed to max out anthropogenic feeding to 30% of a boto’s daily caloric intake, a boto could easily surpass that by visiting four BIPs in one day. 85 Moreover, botos may be increasing intraspecies interaction beyond what happens naturally. In the case of females with calves, this could increase boto vulnerability in two ways: one by exposing calves to aggressive males at a time when they are usually separate, and another by teaching their young to “hunt” for food at BIPs. Despite these drawbacks, there is also the potential for BIPs to decrease boto vulnerability by educating the public. Both BIP operators and fishers eluded to a change of perception among some members of their home communities, switching to a more favorable view of the boto. However, with the exception of personal anecdotes, these responses were speculative in that they were not first-hand, first-person accounts of individuals unaffiliated with tourism having a change of heart or mind, nor are there any studies that correlate BIP activities with lasting changes in behavior. As with fishers, some of the problems BIP operators had with regards to a lack of government enforcement of BIP rules may stem from feelings of unfairness or competition. If one BIP operator is adhering to the rules (e.g., closing two days a week, maintaining lifejackets, limiting visitation) and another is not, the rule-abiding BIP operator may feel that they are losing out to others who are not following the rules. It could mean a loss of income and increased expenditures that others are not experiencing. Perhaps counterintuitively, stronger regulations and enforcement may serve as a way to even out the playing field while simultaneously minimizing boto vulnerability. Scholars have shown that boto mortality and vulnerability are rising steeply (da Silva et al. 2018), yet findings from this study indicate that some local residents perceived an increase in the number of botos over the years. It is possible that the advent of boto-feeding tourism has artificially altered boto behavior such that they are congregating in larger numbers around these 86 platforms, and thus having more interactions with locals. These interactions, however, may be leading to increased negative interactions between BIP operators and fishers as well, as fishers may be venting some of their frustrations on BIP operators introducing this activity to their area. The question of boto vulnerability spans beyond direct impacts from fishing and boto tourism into questions of power, economic sustainability, and interpersonal relations. This paper begins to disentangle many of the complexities of the human-boto dynamic among fishers and BIP operators in the Brazilian Amazon, but more needs to be done. 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The Action Plan for South American River Dolphins: 2010-2020. Bogota: Union Grafica Ltda. Turvey, S. T., R. L. Pitman, B. L. Taylor, J. Barlow, T. Akamatsu, L. a Barrett, X. Zhao, R. R. Reeves, B. S. Stewart, K. Wang, Z. Wei, X. Zhang, L. T. Pusser, M. Richlen, J. R. Brandon, and D. Wang. 2007. First human-caused extinction of a cetacean species? Biology letters 3 (5):537– 40. 92 CHAPTER 3: CONTENTION IN THE AMAZON: CRIMINALITY AND CONSERVATION AMONG HUMANS AND THE AMAZON RIVER DOLPHIN IN BRAZIL 93 3.1 Introduction The destruction of tropical forests is arguably the greatest threat to global biodiversity (Pimm and Raven 2000; Bradshaw, Sodhi, and Brook 2009; Gibson et al. 2011). Across the globe, protected areas (PAs) and robust environmental laws have been implemented in response to the biodiversity crisis. Even within these reserves, however, habitat degradation, hunting, and natural resource exploitation are contributing to declines in ecosystem health, suggesting that the spaces surrounding PAs are just as threatened, if not more so, than their protected counterparts (Soares-Filho et al. 2006; Laurance et al. 2012). In Brazil, a network of PAs containing 54% of the forests of the Brazilian Amazon protects one of the world’s largest remaining rainforest regions (Soares-Filho et al. 2010). While deforestation and illegal logging are arguably the environmental crimes most frequently associated with the Brazilian Amazon, wildlife crimes are a serious threat to Brazil’s biodiversity (da Silva and Bernard 2016), and comprise a significant percentage of illegal use of natural resources, even in the federally protected areas that are designed to reduce deforestation and protect biodiversity (Kauano et al. 2017). In fact, illegal fishing and hunting activities comprise 27.3% and 18.2%, respectively, of such crimes in PAs alone, coming in second and third behind the suppression and degradation of vegetation (37.4%) (Kauano et al. 2017). In the Brazilian Amazon, one species has gained international conservation attention recently in large part due to its central role in an illegal fishing practice. The Amazon river dolphin (Inia geoffrensis), referred to by locals as the “boto,” has been hunted illegally for use as fish bait for many years. Declines in boto populations were observed starting in the year 2000 (da Silva, Martin, and do Carmo 2011), and legislation was implemented in 2015 to ban the capture and sale of piracatinga, as a way to protect botos and other wildlife from being hunted 94 for this purpose (Beltrão, Porto-Braga, and Schwartz-Benzaken 2017). At the same time, there has been growing interest in interactive tourism activities (“boto feeding tourism”) that may also be detrimental to the well-being of boto populations (Alves et al. 2011; Alves et al. 2013). Conservation policies and protected areas are often implemented in response to crimes against flora and fauna; however, they are not always effective. Factors such as the displacement of local people, restriction of local people to resource access, lack of compensation, and awareness of local communities to conservation issues and regulations are important considerations for the success or failure of conservation strategies (Muhumuza and Balkwill 2013). The objective of this chapter, then, is to assess what policies and regulations exist affecting fishers, boto tourism operators, and the boto herself, whether these policies translate to real-world practice, and what the underlying causes might be for any disconnect between policy and practice. 3.2 Literature Review Interactions between humans and the boto have always had contentious roots. Traditionally, however, cultural beliefs in the “legend of the boto” shielded the Amazon river dolphin from harmful interactions with humans. Portraying the boto as an enchanted creature with the ability to transform into a seductive and charismatic human with powerful magical abilities (Gravena et al. 2008), the legend instilled a sense of fear and distrust in local residents, who avoided the animal as a way to prevent harm to themselves, their families, and communities (Slater 1994; Cravalho 1999). Over time, however, these beliefs have degraded, and contact between humans and botos have increased, particularly within fishing and tourism activities. 95 3.2.1 Fishers’ interactions with botos Piracatinga (Calophysus macropterus) is a species of necrophagous catfish found in the Amazon and Orinoco river basins. The early 2000s saw the beginnings of a growing piracatinga industry, when the species began to be fished commercially in Brazil (Franco et al. 2016). Riverine communities in the Brazilian Amazon where piracatinga are found generally do not consume the species, as it is known to be a bottom-feeding scavenger fish that feeds on rotting carcasses, rendering the nickname “water vulture” (urubu d´água). Instead of local consumption and distribution, piracatinga have primarily been exported to Colombia, where they are sold under the guise of capaz (Pimelodus grosskopfii), a catfish of similar appearance that has been overfished and is now critically endangered (IUCN 2016). In Brazil, this has also been occurring in recent years; piracatinga have been sold as fillets of “douradinha,” a ficticious fish whose name was created for the purposes of masking for piracatinga (Cunha et al. 2015). “Douradinha” is the diminutive form of “dourada,” the name of a fish popular for consumption in Brazil. This is likely a deliberate marketing ploy used to mislead consumers to think that they are purchasing “small dourada.” piracatinga has been found to be high: 1.33–2.28 µg/g., which is much higher than the 0.5 µg/g There are a number of problems associated with this industry. First, mercury content in limit established by the World Health Organization (WHO) as safe for human consumption (Salinas et al. 2014). Second, in both Colombia and Brazil, consumers are being misled and lied to so that piracatinga can be sold. This is problematic because consumers are unknowingly ingesting a food that is potentially high in mercury content. Lastly, and the most problematic for wildlife conservation, is that the way in which these fish are caught is by using animal carcasses as bait—notably, the black caiman (Melanosuchus niger, locally known as the jacaré) and the 96 Amazon river dolphin (Inia geoffrensis, locally known as the boto vermelho, boto cor-de-rosa, or simply boto). The use of boto flesh in the piracatinga industry is arguably the most egregious of the negative interactions between fishers and botos, but there are others as well. Fishers often view the botos both as nuisance animals and as competition, particularly in cases where botos disrupt fishing activities by puncturing gillnets and/or “stealing” fish from those nets. In some cases, botos become accidental bycatch when they get caught in unattended nets; this can be viewed as destructive to fishers, as the entangled body of a boto often damages the net as well (Mintzer et al. 2015). Fisher responses to botos range from scaring botos away by making loud noises (e.g., slapping the surface of the water with an oar) to more traditional and folkloric methods like submerging garlic in the water, and even to the direct killing of them. As the practice of using boto flesh for piracatinga bait became more widely publicized, concern over the impacts of this practice on boto populations grew, and legislation banning the capture of piracatinga was put in place in an attempt to stop the direct killing of botos, as well as caimans (particularly the black caiman, Melanosuchus niger, and the common caiman, Caiman crocodilus), who are also used as bait (Instrução Normativa Interministerial Nº 6 de 17 de julho de 2014). This legislation supplements other laws directed at subsistence fishers, including one which prohibits fishing certain species, such as sardines, during a reproductive period that spans from November 15 through March 15 in Amazonas. During this prohibited period, the federal government provides registered fishers with a seguro defeso, a monthly minimum wage stipend to cover lost income during the four months in which fishers are prohibited from catching the banned species. Registered fishers must apply for the seguro defeso through their local fishing union, association, or colony, and provide proof that they are indeed licensed and registered. 97 3.2.2 Tourism with botos Although harmful interactions between humans and botos are most commonly associated with fishers and fishing activity, tourism has also been a growing concern in the region. Specifically, activities that involve interactions between humans and the botos have resulted in harmful encounters; for example, there have been reports of people striking the botos, attempting to restrain or ride them, and feeding them inappropriate objects (Alves et al. 2011). Visitors have also been accidentally bitten by botos during feeding activities (Alves et al. 2011). These activities typically take place on a floating boto interaction platform (BIP), where BIP operators charge a fee for visitors to see botos up-close (usually in the river) while the boto is fed by the operator. Whether these activities have additional long-term impacts on boto communities remains to be studied. In contrast to fishing, BIP activities had not been formally regulated through federal or state legislation at the time of this study. However, Brazilian legislation does exist pertaining to human interaction with wildlife; for example, the Environmental Crime Law of Brazil (Lei nº 9.605, de 12 de fevereiro de 1998) states that wildlife is considered to be public property and cannot be appropriated; if appropriated, their use is subject to federal regulation. Thus, as a public good, wildlife cannot be privatized or commodified for any personal or economic gains without federal regulation. In accordance to this law, BIP operations are de jure illegal; while botos are not enclosed or held in captivity at BIPs, they are attracted to the area for economic gains, and the operators are profiting from a public good. In practice, however, BIPs fall into a gray, liminal category of legality where they are de facto allowed. Taken together, fishing and boto tourism have the potential to impact boto populations and exacerbate boto vulnerability. While some legislation has been put in place to mitigate 98 anthropogenic harm to botos, it is not altogether clear whether these laws are translated into on- the-ground results. Whether conservation efforts are successful often depends on collaboration and support from local stakeholders, whose perceptions of conservation are heavily influenced by their own experiences and opinions (Bennett and Dearden 2014). In many efforts to mitigate human-wildlife conflict, success or failure of conservation policies and programs are partly dependent upon affected stakeholders having necessary resources, skills, and information (Madden 2004). Disconnects between policy and practice may arise if the needs of a community are not addressed, if culture is poorly aligned with conservation, or if the necessary resources and information are not provided to stakeholders (Madden and McQuinn 2014; da Silva and Bernard 2016). Thus, this chapter seeks to explore these issues in the context of the boto by asking the questions: Do de facto fishing and boto tourism practices align with the de jure policies meant to control and regulate those practices? If they do not, why might this disconnect exist? How might legislation, regulation, and enforcement (or a lack thereof) impact botos and the relations between humans and botos? What are stakeholders’ knowledge and understanding of the policies that affect them? Additionally, the role of culture is explored through assessing respondents’ understanding of and perception of the legend of the boto, as well as the boto himself. The purpose of this project is three-fold: to understand (1) what the policies are, (2) how stakeholders understand the policies, and (3) what practices are actually employed by stakeholders. Understanding and addressing any disconnect among these three components should help inform and strengthen current and future conservation programs aimed at mitigating boto vulnerability and other local fauna. 99 3.2.3 Brazilian legislation and regulations for artisanal fishing and wildlife tourism Fishing In Brazil, restrictions on fishing vary from state to state. For fishers in the state of Amazonas, fishing of certain species is prohibited from November 15 through March 15. This is often referred to as the “closed period,” and the following species are prohibited from being caught, transported, commercialized, stored, and processed: pirapitinga (Piaractus brachypomus), mapará (Hypophthalmus spp.), sardines (“sardinha”; Triportheus spp.), pacu (Mylossoma spp.), aruanã (Osteoglossum bicirrhosum), and matrinxã (Brycon spp.) (Portaria nº 48 de 05 de novembro de 2007). Two additional species were added to the banned list in 2015: caparari (Pseudoplatystoma tigrinum) and surubim (Pseudoplatystoma fasciatum) (Resolução CEMAAM N° 21 de 27 de outobro de 2015) (Table 3.1). However, fishing by artisanal fishers who use a hand line or rod, or a line and hook, is excluded from this ordinance, so long as there are no overriding state regulations. The objective of this piece of legislation, as well as other fish-specific regulations, is to prevent overexploitation of commonly fished or threatened species by protecting them during their reproductive period. Pirarucu (Arapaima gigas), a threatened species, is prohibited the whole year (Instrução Normativa N° 34 de 18 de junho de 2004), except in managed areas, provided they are authorized by IBAMA (Instrução Normativa N° 1 de 1 de junho de 2005). Tambaqui (Colossoma macropomum) is prohibited from November 1 through March 31 (Instrução Normativa N° 35 de 29 de setembro de 2005) (Table 3.1). During the closed period, artisanal and amateur fishers who are licensed are allowed to catch and transport up to 5 kg of fish plus one specimen. Ribeirinhos, or riverine peoples, are allowed to catch and transport up to 10 kg of fish per day for subsistence, defined as fishing to 100 guarantee family feeding, with no commercial purpose (Portaria nº 48 de 05 de novembro de 2007) (Table 3.1). Brazilian law 10.779 (Lei Nº 10.779, de 25 de novembro de 2003) regulates seguro defeso, the federal subsidy program provided to registered fishers. It states that artisanal fishers who carry out their professional activity continuously, artisanally, and individually or in a family-run economy are entitled to the benefit of unemployment insurance equal to a monthly minimum wage during the closed period of fishing for the preservation of specified fish species. Those receiving seguro defeso benefits may not receive any other governmental benefits or aid during this period (Decreto nº 8.424 de 31 de março de 2015), other than death pensions and accident aid (Lei nº 13.134, de 16 de junho de 2015) (Table 3.1). While this could be potentially problematic for many families who qualify for and receive other government aid (such as bolsa familia—see Chapter 2), at the family level, different family members may be the recipient of different programs; for example, the father of one family may receive seguro defeso while the mother receives bolsa familia. 101 Table 3.1. Table of legislation relevant to fishers and BIP operators. Legislation Lei nº 7.643 de 18 de dezembro de 1987 Agency Brazil Lei nº 9.605, de 12 de fevereiro de 1998 Brazil Lei nº 10.779, de 25 de novembro de 2003 Brazil Instrução Normativa nº 34 de 18 de junho de 2004 Instrução Normativa nº 1 de 1 de junho de 2005 Instrução Normativa nº 35 de 29 de setembro de 2005 IBAMA IBAMA MMA* Portaria nº 48 de 05 de novembro de 2007 IBAMA Abbreviated Description All cetaceans are protected from fishing or any form of intentional harassment in Brazilian jurisdictional waters Environmental Crimes Law. Crimes against wildlife are defined as killing, pursuing, hunting, catching, or using species of wildlife without the appropriate permission, license or authorization from the competent authority or in disagreement with the permission, license or authorization obtained. Seguro defeso law. Artisanal fishers who carry out their professional activity continuously, artisanally, and individually or in a family-run economy are entitled to the benefit of unemployment insurance equal to a monthly minimum wage during the closed period of fishing. The fishing, transport, storage, and commercialization of pirarucu (Arapaima gigas) is prohibited in Amazonas the entire year. Pirarucu may be fished in managed areas, provided they are authorized by IBAMA. Tambaqui (Colossoma macropomum) is prohibited from November 1 through March 31. Closed period of fishing from November 15 through March 15. The following species are prohibited from being caught, transported, commercialized, stored, and processed in the state of Amazonas: (1) pirapitinga (Piaractus brachypomus) (2) mapará (Hypophthalmus spp.) (3) sardines (“sardinha”; Triportheus spp.) (4) pacu (Mylossoma spp.) (5) aruanã (Osteoglossum bicirrhosum) (6) matrinxã (Brycon spp.) Artisanal fishing via hand line or rod, or a line and hook, is excluded from this ordinance (but still subject to state regulation). The catch and transport of up to 5 kg of fish, plus one specimen, is allowed. Ribeirinhos are allowed to catch and transport up to 10 kg of fish per day for subsistence, defined as fishing to guarantee family feeding, with no commercial purpose. 102 Legislation Agency Abbreviated Description Table 3.1 (cont’d) Instrução Normativa nº 6 de 17 de julho de 2014 MPA**, MMA* Decreto nº 8.424 de 31 de março de 2015 Lei nº 13.134, de 16 de junho de 2015 Brazil Brazil Resolução CEMAAM nº 21 de 27 de outobro de 2015 CEMAAM† *Ministry of the Environment **Ministry of Fisheries and Aquaculture †State of Amazonas Council of the Environment Moratorium on the capture, storage, transport, processing, and commercialization of piracatinga (Calophysus macropterus) effective 2015 through 2020. The moratorium does not apply to subsistence fishing, which allows the capture and transport of up to 5 kg of piracatinga for the sole purpose of feeding one's family. Those receiving seguro defeso benefits may not receive any other governmental benefits or aid during the closed period. Those receiving seguro defeso benefits may also receive death pensions and accident aid. Caparari (Pseudoplatystoma tigrinum) and surubim (Pseudoplatystoma fasciatum) are prohibited in accordance to Portaria nº 48 de 05 de novembro de 2007. 103 Wildlife tourism Crimes against wildlife are defined in the Environmental Crime Law (Lei nº 9.605, de 12 de fevereiro de 1998) as killing, pursuing, hunting, catching, or using species of wildlife, “native or on migratory routes, without the appropriate permission, license or authorization from the competent authority or in disagreement with the permission, license or authorization obtained.” According to this law, wild fauna are defined as “native species, migratory species and any other species, aquatic or terrestrial, who have all or part of their life cycle occurring within the boundaries of Brazilian territory, or Brazilian jurisdictional waters.” Wildlife, then, are considered to be public property, cannot be appropriated, and their use is subject to regulation by the federal government. All cetaceans are protected from fishing or any form of intentional harassment in Brazilian jurisdictional waters (Lei nº 7.643 de 18 de dezembro de 1987) (Table 3.1). Botos fall within this category, and they are also considered an endangered species in Brazil. At the time of data collection, legislation regulating BIP activities had not yet been passed. Instead, a set of informal regulations was put in place and agreed upon by all BIP operators and representatives from INPA, IBAMA, and ICMbio. These BIP rules fell into six primary categories: operating days, control of tourist interaction with botos, means of attraction and conduct with animals, tourist contact with animals, feeding, and BIP infrastructure. Specific regulations are outlined in Table 3.2 below. 104 Table 3.2. Informal regulations for BIP operations. Operating days Mondays and Wednesdays: closed Controlling tourist interaction with botos 1. Max. # people per group: 10 2. Max. interaction time in the water: 10 minutes 3. Max. group time on BIP: 20 minutes 4. Max. # of people per day: 80 5. Botos can be raised out of the water up to 2 times per group Means of attracting botos 1. Recommended method: agitate water with hands and offer fish to the botos 2. Use colored balls and other objects that do not harm animals 3. Use of artifacts that use sound and/or may harm local wildlife is prohibited Physical contact with botos 1. All groups should receive instructions 2. Visitors may not intentionally touch botos 3. Tourists can only swim after botos have been fed Feeding botos 1. Max. quantity of fish/boto/day: 1 kg 2. Feeding of calves is prohibited 3. Fish < 20 cm can be given whole; fish > 20 cm can be split 4. Fish should be kept in good sanitary and consumption conditions BIP infrastructure 1. BIPs should have garbage bins 2. BIPs should be handicap accessible 3. Restaurants are not permitted on BIPs 4. Toilets and kitchens must have effluent treatment, or dry toilets 5. BIPs should have buoys and/or signage to indicate tourists in the water and prevent vessel passage 6. BIPs should maintain good hygiene and cleanliness, and not release waste into the water 7. People with food and beverages should not be allowed access to observation platforms 105 Legal jurisdiction and enforcement By law, jurisdiction for certain activities is dealt with at different scales (e.g., federal, state, and municipality). Table 3.1 outlines the responsible party for each policy; all are governed by federal agencies except for Resolução CEMAAM nº 21 de 27 de outobro de 2015, a state resolution regulated by CEMAAM (State Council for the Environment of Amazonas). While the Brazilian Constitution states that the responsibility of protecting the environment should be shared among federal, state, and municipal governments (Constituição da República Federativa do Brasil, art. 23, §VI & VII), national environmental policies fall within the purview of IBAMA. However, ICMBio is another federal environmental agency that was established in 2007 to govern and enforce policies pertaining specifically to protected areas (conservation units) and the use and extraction of natural resources within them, as well as matters dealing with threatened and endangered species (Lei nº 11.516, de 28 de agosto de 2007). In theory, ICMBio has jurisdiction over the majority of the issues presented in this dissertation, with the exception of activities taking place in public land/waters, which would fall to IBAMA. Penalties for environmental crimes vary depending on a number of factors, including the seriousness of the crime and its consequences to public health and the environment, the transgressor’s past history with respect to environmental legislation compliance, and the transgressor’s financial situation (Lei nº 9.605, de 12 de fevereiro de 1998, art. 6). There are some cases where community service, temporary suspension of rights, partial or total suspension of activities, fines, or house arrest are penalties that may substitute imprisonment. These penalties may be given if the crime is determined to be without malice or if it is determined that this substitution is sufficient for the purposes of condemning and preventing the crime (Lei nº 9.605, de 12 de fevereiro de 1998, art. 7 & 8). In the case of illegal fishing, common penalties 106 include fines, temporary suspension of fishing licenses, and the seizure of fish, fishing equipment, and vessels. Crimes against wildlife, in the context of tourism, are typically penalized with fines and/or by the confiscation of illegally-held wildlife. Monitoring and enforcement are primarily conducted via first-person observations by IBAMA and ICMBio agents who may patrol particular sections of the river; there are also hotlines for citizens to report environmental crimes. However, given the enormity of the region and a severe lack of human and financial resources, enforcement of the entire area is impossible and certain crimes, such as deforestation and illegal logging, are given the highest priority. 3.3 Methods To address these questions, this research employed qualitative field research in the Central Brazilian Amazon using household surveys, semi-structured key informant interviews, direct observation, and secondary data collection of Brazilian environmental laws. Data collection took place from June through August of 2016 at six BIPs along an approximately 95- km stretch of the Rio Negro outside of Manaus, the capital city of Amazonas in Brazil (Figure 3.1). Key stakeholders who were surveyed and/or interviewed were local artisanal fishers, BIP operators, fishing community leaders, and civil servants with Amazonas state government. 107 Figure 3.1. Map of the study area. Participant recruitment BIP operator participants (n=10) were recruited by visiting each of the BIPs; fisher participants (n=11) were recruited through a combination of door-to-door and snowball sampling, traveling by boat away from each BIP location first at a radius of 1-km, and extending outwards as necessary to locate residents willing to participate in a survey. Participants were asked at the conclusion of surveys whether they would like to participate in a more in-depth interview; if they agreed, interviews took place at the time of their choosing, which was usually immediately following the survey. Community leaders (n=2) and government employees (n=3) were contacted ahead of time via e-mail or phone to schedule interviews; surveys were not conducted with these participants. Understanding de jure policies Semi-structured in-depth interviews were conducted with community leaders and employees of the Brazilian Institute of Environment and Renewable Natural Resources 108 (IBAMA) and the Chico Mendes Institute for Biodiversity Conservation (ICMBio) to understand what environmental policies, legislation, and regulations exist pertaining to artisanal fishers and BIP operators. Interview questions included asking what laws and regulations exist for subsistence fishers and BIPs in the area and how those laws are enforced. Secondary data collection took place in the form of searching Brazil’s legislation database (Brasil 2018) for relevant legislation, as well as collecting policy documents from participants, when voluntarily provided. Gauging stakeholder understanding of policies To assess the extent of fisher and BIP operator knowledge and understanding of de jure policies, I conducted in-depth semi-structured interviews with fishers (n=7) and BIP operators (n=9). Questions included asking respondents if they were familiar with any of Brazil’s environmental laws, describing those laws they were familiar with, their understanding of how the laws are enforced, and whether they have experienced or know of anyone who has experienced enforcement. These responses were then compared with de jure policies to assess whether understanding of policies and actual policies aligned. To gauge understanding of how or why policies do or do not work, community leaders and government civil servants were asked about difficulties encountered when enforcing laws, and what they thought fishers and BIP operators thought about these laws. Assessing de facto fishing and BIP practices Household surveys were conducted with fishers (n=11) and BIP operators (n=10) to assess how they carry out their respective activities. Questions for BIP operators included details about daily BIP operations (e.g., amounts and types of fish fed to botos, hours of operation, number of visitors allowed), average tourist visitation throughout the year, rules in place for 109 employees and visitors, and BIP maintenance expenditures. Questions for fishers included details about the types of fish they most frequently catch; how often, when, and where they fish; their most commonly used fishing methods; and whether they receive seguro defeso payments. At BIPs, direct observation was also utilized when possible to understand how and whether operations matched with what was said during surveys and interviews. Direct observation of fishing activity was not possible with fishers. Exploring cultural considerations among fishers and BIP operators To assess whether cultural beliefs influenced participants’ outlook on conservation and the boto, fishers and BIP operators were asked in surveys about their knowledge and understanding of the legend of the boto, whether they thought it had any impact on people’s perceptions of Amazonia or the boto, and how, if at all, belief in the legend changed people’s behavior. In interviews, fishers and BIP operators were also asked about their general thoughts about the boto and conservation, and what they thought about protecting wildlife. All survey and interview data were audio-recorded and later transcribed, then translated to English. Codes pertaining to each of the categories described above were developed and used to analyze data for emergent themes using NVivo. Categorial survey data were analyzed using descriptive statistics. 3.4 Results 3.4.1 BIP operator understanding and perception of legislation Of the 23 informal rules outlined in Table 3.2, BIP operators indicated through household surveys that they were aware of at least 19 of them in total. These responses are summarized in Table 3.3, which depicts in bold the number of respondents at each BIP who reported to understand or be aware of a given rule. Data in parentheses indicate alternative answers provided 110 by at least one BIP operator at that given BIP; blank cells indicate that no responses were given with regards to that rule. This does not necessarily suggest that operators had no knowledge, understanding, or awareness of that rule; it simply indicates that it was not mentioned. At the same time, some BIP operators listed additional rules that were not part of the informal regulations outlined in Table 3.2. These rules are categorized as "Other" in Table 3.3. For the rules that were mentioned, the overall average response rate was 35% for all rules (including “other”) and 36% for all rules (excluding “other”). Five rules had just one respondent, and five others had none. The rule pertaining to providing instruction to all visitor groups had the highest response rate (n=9, 90%). Other rules that had a majority response (>50%) included (1) swimming being allowed (not including the part of the rule that dictates only after feeding; 70%), (2) being closed on Mondays and Wednesdays (60%), (3) group size maximum of 10 people (60%), (4) using colorful balls (60%), and (5) mandatory lifejackets (60%). Operating days Operators at four of the six BIPs were aware of the regulation that they should be closed on Mondays and Wednesdays for boto “rest days.” The operator at BIP 5 reported that they close only on Mondays; there was no mention of Wednesdays. BIP 6 was a peculiar case in that they were the only site that did not close any day of the week, but were also the only ones who only conducted interactions once every hour, on the hour, from 9 am–noon and 2–5 pm. Controlling tourist interaction with botos In this category of informal regulations, the only rule that BIP operators did not mention was the 20-minute maximum time allowed per group on the observation platform. At least half of the respondents understood that only 10 visitors are allowed per group (n=6) and that each BIP should have a maximum of 80 tourists per day (n=5). Only one operator mentioned the 111 maximum 10-minute time limit for guests to be in the water. Again, BIP 6 operators reported limits that differed from the agreed-upon regulations. Their maximum group size was 20 people rather than 10; however, visitors at this BIP are not allowed to enter the water, and the structure of the BIP itself is such that there is a large raised viewing platform, and two separate smaller platforms that sit on the water, where interactions occur. Twenty people cannot fit on the smaller platforms, so interaction group sizes are naturally limited. Means of attracting botos Only one of the three rules pertaining to attracting botos to a BIP was reported by operators (n=6): the use of colored balls or other objects that will not harm wildlife. However, all mentions of this rule were made in the context of playing with botos or distracting them, rather than drawing them to the site. The recommended method of attracting botos to a BIP was already used by all BIP operators; thus, while this rule was not discussed, it was already in practice. Physical contact with botos Of all the regulation categories, “physical contact with botos” had the highest response rate. All but one BIP operator reported to understand that all visitor groups needed to receive instruction on how to behave during the interaction, as well as general information about the boto. The rule prohibiting visitors from intentionally touching a boto had the most varied responses in this category; four operators at three BIPs understood the regulation, two reported that touching is allowed, and one said that visitors can only touch the botos after they have been fed. One of the operators who understood this rule, however, added that “the correct way is that they can’t touch, but they always do.” It appears that the operator at BIP 2 confused part of the swimming rule with the touching rule; although the regulation states that swimming is only allowed after feeding has been done, 112 only three operators at two BIPs understood this rule in its entirety. Swimming is prohibited at BIP 6. Feeding botos Responses to how much food botos are allowed to have each day had the most variation of all the regulations. While all operators seemed to have knowledge that there were limits to how much fish could be provisioned, only two BIP operators understood the rule correctly. None of the respondents seemed aware that they are prohibited from feeding boto calves, and only a few had understanding of size (n=1) and quality (n=2) standards BIP infrastructure Less than half of BIP operators were aware of infrastructural rules. The presence of safety buoys or signage had the highest number of responses (n=5); 30% or less were aware of all other rules. No one reported that they needed to be prepared for individuals with locomotive difficulties. Of all the BIPs, operators from BIP 6 were most aware of rules in this category. 113 Table 3.3. BIP rules as reported by BIP operators. Rules BIP 1 (n=2) BIP 2 (n=1) BIP 3 (n=2) BIP 4 (n=1) BIP 5 (n=1) BIP 6 (n=3) Total % Operating days Mondays and Wednesdays: closed Controlling tourist interaction with botos 1. Max. # people/group: 10 2. Max. time in water: 10 mins 3. Max. group time on BIP: 20 mins 4. Max. # of people/day: 80 5. Botos: 2x/group Means of attracting botos 1. Recommended method 2. Colored balls and other non-harmful objects 3. No noisy or harmful artifacts Physical contact with botos 1. Instruct all groups 2. No intentional touching 3. Swimming allowed Only after feeding 2 2 2 2 2 1 2 1 1 1 1 1 1 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 1 1 1 1 1 (Touch after feeding) 1 114 (Monday only) (Open every day) 6 60% 1 1 1 (20) 6 60% 1 10% 5 50% 2 30% 6 60% 3 9 90% (Allowed for now) (Allowed) 4 40% 1 1 (No swimming) 7 70% 3 30% Rules Feeding botos 1. Max. fish/boto/day: 1 kg 2. No feeding calves 3. Fish size < 20 cm whole; >20 cm split 4. Good fish conditions BIP infrastructure 1. Have garbage bins 2. Handicap accessible 3. No restaurants 4. Effluent treatment or dry toilets 5. Safety buoys and/or signage 6. Good hygiene and cleanliness 7. No food or beverages on platforms Other 1. No sunscreen, watches, or insect repellant 2. Lifejackets are mandatory 3. Crowds must be kept quiet 4. Fire extinguisher required on BIP 5. Uniform required for BIP employees Table 3.3 (cont’d) BIP 1 (n=2) BIP 2 (n=1) BIP 3 (n=2) BIP 4 (n=1) BIP 5 (n=1) BIP 6 (n=3) Total % 1 1 1 1 1 1 (4 kg/6 botos) (2 kg) 2 20% 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 10% 2 20% 1 10% 1 10% 3 30% 5 50% 3 30% 1 10% 3 30% 6 60% 2 20% 2 20% 3 30% 1 (3 kg) (10 (2 kg; 7-8 fish/group) fish) 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 1 1 1 115 Other These rules were reported by BIP operators when asked what rules exist for tourists and employees. The most common was mandated lifejackets (n=6); none of these rules were included in the original agreed-upon set of regulations. BIP operator perceptions of legislation BIP operators were generally favorable or neutral with regards to regulations and rules put in place for their activities, especially when the rules dealt with the protection of botos. Seven out of the nine operators who agreed to be interviewed thought that the protections in place were good for the well-being of the botos, and wildlife generally. All BIP operators agreed that botos should be protected by law; however, four operators expressed uncertainty in the future of BIP tourism, stating that new rules are imposed every year, making it difficult to know whether the activity would continue. When asked what he thought tourism with botos would be like in 10 years, one operator joked that he might not be able to get in the water with them by that point: I think that it will become difficult, because from year to year they put a new rule for us. I think that by then, even I won’t be able to enter the water [laughs]. Every year they put a different rule, every year. -Rosa The second most common theme among BIP operators was that they would like more enforcement (n=7) because according to them, some operators follow the rules and others do not (n=5). There was also a common perception that although informal regulations were put in place, there was no actual enforcement of the rules (n=6). From the BIP operators’ perspective, this lack of enforcement was problematic both for themselves—because if they were rule-followers, they felt disadvantaged by the non-followers—and the botos, because “what good do the rules do if nobody is enforcing them?” 116 Here there aren’t rules, no. We don’t have support, so if we had support from enforcement at all the bases maybe it would change many things... The way that it is here, anyone can put a flutuante there. No one [from IBAMA] comes. I’ve worked 11 years in this, it’s not like that, as it’s said, a rule to keep few flutuantes, few food for the animals, to get a lifejacket, to get many things. There’s nothing like this... It’s complicated, the situation here. Complicated. -Watson On the other hand, another BIP operator had a much different experience with rules and government involvement. At this location, ICMBio strictly enforced the owner to meet many requirements and stipulations before he was allowed to build a flutuante and start a BIP business: There was ICMBio, who has been monitoring around here. Then they stuck them to come mess with us. They said that we couldn’t [have this operation], because we were in the middle of two flutuantes already. One here, and another one up ahead, and we were in the middle. And they didn’t want [us] to [do this], because they said it was very close to the other two sites. And he began by saying that we couldn’t stay, then that we could, but by complying with a lot of rules. We had to go put in a flutuante, equip the flutuante, have everything right, so that we could stay. -Vahik This particular operator had sought out individuals from ICMBio and INPA, to demonstrate that they were not exploiting the animals, and to gain a better understanding of the boto. With assistance from a researcher at INPA, they attended some courses about the boto and tourism with the boto, and were able to continue their work. Enforcement of the rules, however, echoed the sentiments expressed by Watson: There is no monitoring or enforcement. They make a rule but have no enforcement. We even work on days that are not for working, and there’s no enforcement. -Vahik Rules that were less favorable had to do with outfitting the BIP with things like lifejackets, a fire extinguisher, and other costly items that required maintenance and replacement (n=4); similarly, the daily limit of 80 visitors was a point of contention for at least two of the BIP operators, because the initial proposition was to limit visitation to 60 visitors today. Through negotiations between BIP operators and representatives from INPA and the government, both parties eventually agreed on an 80 visitor per day limit. 117 De facto BIP practices I was able to conduct direct observation of tourist interactions with botos at four of the six BIPs. Results from these observations are discussed for each category of regulations. Operating days This rule was not always possible to observe, as surveys and interviews were only conducted with BIP operators on operational days. However, surveys and interviews with fishers were sometimes conducted on BIP off days, and brief observations of BIPs en route to fishing communities indicated that those BIPs were indeed closed on those days. Controlling tourist interaction with botos Of these regulations, the only unobservable one was the max number of visitors per day. All tourist groups entering the water did conform to the 10-person maximum; however, the maximum time allowed in the water varied depending on the size of the tourist group. Typically, larger groups were encouraged to exit the water within 10 minutes, but smaller groups (three or less people) were allowed more leisure time in the water. With the exception of one BIP where operators conducted the majority of the interaction underwater, none of the BIPs adhered to the rule that botos were allowed to be raised out of the water a maximum of two times per group. Means of attracting botos Although 60% of BIP operators reported to use colored balls to play with the botos, this was not observed in any of my visits. However, all BIPs adhered to the recommended method of attracting botos to the site, and none used noisy or harmful artifacts. Physical contact with botos All tourist groups were given instructions prior to entering the water; however, they were not always given by the BIP operators themselves. Tourist groups were often accompanied by a 118 tour guide, and in most of these cases, the tour guide gave the informational lecture beforehand. The quality and substance of these lectures ranged from being uninformative, with guides giving incorrect information (for example, one guide watching an interaction told his group that it was OK for them to touch the boto, even as the BIP operator was in the process of provisioning fish), to being an educational experience, complete with an informational video and explanation of the legend of the boto. Despite the sometimes uninformative lecture, all but one BIP had informational signage, like those presented in Figures 3.2 and 3.3. Figure 3.2. List of rules for tourists at BIPs. Translation: Rules of Appropriate Behavior for Interaction with Botos: 1) Lifejacket required. 2) Group of 10 people at maximum. 3) Do not wear watches or rings. 4) Do not jump in the water. 5) Do not yell. 6) No entry of food and drink on the observation deck. 7) Do not feed the animals. 8) Do not apply sunscreen. 9) Do not intentionally touch the botos. 119 Figure 3.3. Educational poster commonly seen at BIPs. The boto’s dorsal fin, blowhole, melon, pectoral fins, and flukes are featured in this poster. Translation: The red- or pink-boto is the largest of the dolphins that occur in freshwater, reaching 2.5 m and weighing up to 185 kg. Its flexible body allows for better movement in the flooded forest, where it catches several species of fish from which it feeds. In the breeding period, males compete for females, who, after a gestation estimated at 10 months, give birth to a single calf. Even with a poster that explicitly states not to intentionally touch the botos, at least one tourist in each group tried to touch a boto. The “swimming only after feeding” rule was also inconsistently adhered to, as two of the BIPs conducted their interactions directly in deeper water. This was sometimes problematic if the current in the river knocked visitors off-balance. Feeding botos Most of these rules were not directly observable; I did not weigh the amount of fished used at each BIP, nor did I measure each fish that was fed to a boto. However, I did observe that none of the fish were ever split, and there were no calves (with moms) present. One young boto, assumed to be two years old, frequented one particular BIP quite often and would be fed by the operators. 120 BIP infrastructure All BIPs had garbage bins present, and none had operational restaurants. All had buoys, but I did not observe any signage to indicate to vessels that they could not pass through the area. Not all BIPs had toilets; of those that did, I was unable to see how waste was disposed of. None of the observed tourists brought food or beverages down with them onto interaction platforms, but some had snacks in the observation area. Handicap accessibility was not observed at any of the platforms. Other At all BIPs that allowed tourists to enter the water, lifejackets were worn. However, the other rules described in this category were only adhered to by some of the BIPs. Half the BIPs had official uniforms for their employees; the other half did not. I did not observe any tourists applying sunscreen or insect repellant prior to entering the river, and some removed their watches. BIP operators working with larger groups had difficulty trying to keep crowds quiet, especially when a boto came up out of the water. I was unable to observe a fire extinguisher at every BIP. 3.4.2 Culture and perceptions of the boto: BIP operators All BIP operators were aware of the legend of the boto. None of them believed in the stories associated with the legend, but three operators recalled being fearful of the botos as children. Those respondents said that their perceptions and beliefs about the boto changed once they started working with them closely as a BIP operator. They all learned of the legend from older members of their communities when they were children, and only repeat the legend now if someone asks them about it. At BIP 6, all three operators stated that they only tell the legend 121 during tourist lectures, because they do not want to perpetuate the fear that is associated with the animal and the legend. Of the five operators who believed that the legend affects people’s perceptions of the botos, three thought that the belief instills a sense of respect from fear of the boto. One BIP operator described his father’s beliefs in the superstitions, which caused him to avoid going near the river’s edge after 6 pm. The other two operators had mixed responses, saying that it depends on the person; in some cases, believing the legend causes animosity between the human and the boto, but in other cases, it may teach a person to have more respect for botos and the environment. All BIP operators believed that there would be an enormous environmental impact if the botos were to disappear, and agreed that they should be protected and cared for. They also all had favorite botos and gave names to the regulars; they also described the personality traits of the dolphins that frequented their BIPs the most. 3.4.3 Fisher understanding and perceptions of legislation When fishers who were interviewed (n=7) were asked if they knew of any environmental laws, they all responded no, but continued on to describe the closed period of fishing, the prohibited species during this time, and seguro defeso payments. Three fishers also described some knowledge or experience of government enforcement during the closed period. They also recognized that hunting botos and jacarés is illegal, indicating some knowledge of the Environmental Crimes Law. Thus, although they claimed to be unfamiliar with actual legislation, their interview responses suggested at least some knowledge of the regulations highlighted in Table 3.4. 122 Table 3.4. List of legislation with laws at least partially understood by all fisher interview respondents highlighted in blue (n=7). Legislation Brief description Lei nº 7.643 de 18 de dezembro de 1987 Lei nº 9.605, de 12 de fevereiro de 1998 Lei nº 10.779, de 25 de novembro de 2003 Instrução Normativa nº 34 de 18 de junho de 2004 Instrução Normativa nº 1 de 1 de junho de 2005 Instrução Normativa nº 35 de 29 de setembro de 2005 Portaria nº 48 de 05 de novembro de 2007 Instrução Normativa nº 6 de 17 de julho de 2014 Decreto nº 8.424 de 31 de março de 2015 Lei nº 13.134, de 16 de junho de 2015 Resolução CEMAAM nº 21 de 27 de outobro de 2015 Cetaceans are protected Environmental crimes law Seguro defeso law Pirarucu prohibited all year Pirarucu may be fished in managed areas under IBAMA Tambaqui prohibited from November 1 through March 31 Closed period and species Piracatinga moratorium Seguro defeso beneficiaries may not receive other aid Except death pension and accident aid Caparari and surubim added to prohibited list Unlike BIP operators, who were 77.8% in support of the regulations placed on BIP activities, fishers expressed greater frustration with the regulations placed on their fishing activities (n=5, 71.4%). The most commonly reported grievances dealt with difficulties encountered during the closed period (n=5) and unfair targeting (n=4). Fishers felt that laws were only enforced for the poor, while wealthy people were able to get away with environmental crimes. On top of that, the prohibited season makes it even more difficult for artisanal fishers because they can no longer practice their primary mode of income: We think it’s bad, [that] they want to ban it... We would complain a lot, because it’s only law for some and for others, they don’t [enforce it]. There is no law for the rich, but for the poor it’s difficult. -Caju These four months get pretty bad, it doesn’t stay bad [when] we’re receiving [seguro defeso], but we catch other types of fish just for consumption... This business of fishing, it would be really good to see...what we could do to get a small fish to sell, because all the closed time is bad. It’s already that the seguro defeso won’t be disbursed; we have to catch fish to sell. -Amendoa They don’t want you to catch fish from the period that’s from December until March, that’s the closed season, right... that’s the period when there are lots of fish that no one can catch, that are reproducing. So it becomes more difficult. If you get caught, they take everything, because these islands here are all Anavilhanas National Park. So everything is prohibited to fish. Where do we go fishing? You have to fish still. So then we just have 123 to fish in hiding... Because if we stop searching [for food] and go to live at home, they won’t want to support us, but this prohibition remains. -Ty-Anne Three fishers were in support of the closed period, as they recognized the importance of allowing fish to spawn in order to ensure continued success of those fish populations: We think this is right, because if we already receive [the defeso], because there’s the season to stop [fishing], because there are four months that are closed—then we have to stop. For us, this year was not good, because of this difficulty that happened. Our money has not gone out, our hands are tied. But this prohibition, we already understand it. We’re already used to it. -Filinho Responses (n=4) to questions about government enforcement of fishing regulations were particularly contentious, especially (but not only) for individuals residing within National Park boundaries. Some fishers described IBAMA agents as “inhumane” in the way they would treat individuals caught breaking the law; beyond confiscating illegally-caught animals, IBAMA agents have allegedly destroyed fishing gear and vessels, leaving individuals stranded. They have also been accused of approaching fishers aggressively and with weapons drawn: When the person is fishing, they hover around, back and forth. And when they catch a person that is taking a paca, a bird, a turtle, instead of taking only those, they take everything. They take the engine, throw it in the water, sink the canoe... they leave the person on the riverbank. They are not human. They are inhumane... IBAMA will never stop chasing the poor! The people of the riverbanks. -Ty-Anne Sometimes... when we’re catching on the river, they take our gillnet, they take everything. Sometimes we stop suddenly to catch a meal and then leave there. If they catch us there they take everything, the gillnet, battery. -Domus The other major difficulty is with IBAMA, when a certain period arrives... We had a meeting [with IBAMA] and they say that the fishermen lie. I never had problems, I’ve seen many colleagues complain about them, mainly in the closed season. The federal ones almost don’t respect us... when they arrive they already take [their] gun and put it on top of us. With me that never worked, I was never caught... I think it shouldn’t be like that. If you’re in uniform, you should have manners with us, but they don’t want to know that. This is only in the closed season because there are a lot of people and sometimes I see their side, right, if the season is closed, the insurance is paid well, but there are many who extrapolate, if it’s prohibited. The difficulty is more the way they approach, they take the gillnet, they take the battery, they take everything. -Bob 124 De facto fishing practices Of the 10 species of fish that are prohibited from fishing at specific times of the year, three were reported by fisher respondents to be important species in their livelihood: tucunaré, cará, and matrinxã (Table 3.5). Three fishers differentiated the types of fish caught depending on the time of year and noted that some were prohibited because of seguro defeso; others understood that certain species are banned during parts of the year, but did not specify which species these were in their survey responses. It is also important to note that jaraqui, a species that was reported to be caught or used by all fisher and BIP participants, was temporarily added to the restricted species list, but removed in 2015. Sardines (sardinha) were reported to be used in BIP activities by 75% of BIP operator respondents, who obtain their fish either themselves (from fishing on their off-days) or by purchasing from fishers in local municipalities like Iranduba or Manacapuru. However, no fisher respondents reported to catch sardines, neither for selling nor consumption (Table 3.5). With fisher participants, I was unable to corroborate what they claimed to practice with what they actually did. In at least two cases, fishers spoke candidly about fishing out of season, catching fish that did not meet legal size requirements, or fishing in strictly prohibited waters. The majority of self-reported information did fit within the bounds of what they claimed to understand about the legalities of artisanal and subsistence fishing throughout the year. 125 Table 3.5. Types of fish reported to be caught by fishers and/or used for feeding in BIP operations. Fish prohibited in the closed period are highlighted. Type of fish Prohibited Fishers (n=10) BIP operators (n=8) Previously (removed in 2015) Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes Jaraqui Tucunaré Cará Matrinxã Pacu Piranha Tambaqui Acará Traíra Aracú Carabaru Curimatã Dourada Filhote Jandiá Pirarara Cubiu Sardinha Branquinha Mapará Cascudinho Jatuarana 100% 70% 60% 60% 40% 20% 20% 20% 10% 10% 10% 10% 10% 10% 10% 10% — — — — — — 100% 37.5% 12.5% 12.5% 37.5% 12.5% 12.5% — 12.5% — — — — — — — 100% 75% 62.5% 50.0% 12.5% 12.5% 3.4.4 Culture and perceptions of the boto: Fishers Of the nine fishers who were asked about the legend of the boto, seven reported to know the stories. None of these fishers claimed to believe in the legend anymore, but two of them did when they were children. A separate respondent said that he does not believe in the legend of the boto, but does believe in cobra grande, another Amazonian legend about a powerful, enchanted creature in the form of a giant snake. Although none of the fishers believed in the legend of the boto, four of them recalled that their parents believed in the superstitions and would not go near 126 the river after 6 pm. The fisher who believes in cobra grande does not fish in locations he claims to be frequented by the snake, and states that no one else does, either. Only one respondent believed that belief in the legend of the boto changes people’s perceptions of the boto, but did not know how to explain himself. All the other fishers did not believe that belief in the legend changed anything. At the same time, four fishers believed that Amazonia would change if the boto were to go extinct, but one of those respondents also said it would never happen, because there are increasingly more botos. The others described a sense of “getting used to” the boto over time, and if he were to disappear, people would be sad because people come from everywhere to admire his beauty. One fisher, however, said that it would be better for fishing if botos went extinct, but that they cannot disappear “because it’s their land, the river.” When asked about their general thoughts of the boto, and whether or not he should be protected, four responded yes, with references to the boto’s role in community livelihood, and respect for wildlife. 3.4.5 Community leaders and civil servant responses to legislation Key informant interviews with two fishing community leaders (the president of a fishers’ union and the president of a local community) and three civil servants (an environmental analyst with ICMbio, an environmental analyst with IBAMA, and the superintendent of IBAMA- Amazonas) provided additional insight into the problems associated with fishing and BIP legislation, as well as the enforcement of those regulations. The main themes that emerged from all the interviews with both groups were dishonesty and corruption, partnership, a lack of human and financial resources, and unclear jurisdiction among enforcement agencies. These themes are described below, following a brief discussion about the important similarities and differences between fishers and BIP operators, as regards enforcement. 127 Fishing vs. BIP tourism An environmental analyst with ICMbio described fishers and BIP operators as two very distinct communities when it comes to questions of laws, regulation, and enforcement. One commonality between the two groups, though, is of regulation being a hindrance to their livelihoods, though tourism might “benefit from this mess, because they don’t have to follow any laws, any rules” (ICMbio employee, personal communication, August 2016). This perception extends beyond just BIP tourism to include other exploitative types of wildlife tourism: As it’s a business—tourism is a trade—often the profit is above any other interest. They don’t have much interest that this activity be regulated, and I also think that it lacks a bit of political will...of a greater interest in working on this issue of tourism, because it’s not only the issue of the botos. ...It’s very common still that you cross [the river] to go to some flutuante and they have animals tethered...stuck there so the tourist can take a photo, take video. And everyone knows it, the tourism branch here in Manaus knows this and…the vast majority realize that it’s not a legal situation, that the animals are not well, that the animals are being harassed, but nothing is done. Enforcement, according to this employee, will not solve this particular problem in tourism. Even when perpetrators are caught with illegal animals that become confiscated, they continue to collect and display wildlife illegally. Instead of enforcement being a singular “solution,” this ICMbio employee believes there needs to be a coordinated effort among different agencies across different sectors in order to effectively combat these problems: When there’s enforcement, they go there and catch the guys, take the animals. The next week the animals are all there again, so this is a problem that—it’s not enforcement that’s going to solve it, there has to be integrated work among people from enforcement, from education, from tourism, the Tutelary Council [child protection agency]...of personnel from the Ministry of Labor... What I perceive is that the tourism sector does not have as much interest to solve this situation here. The Municipal and State Secretary of Tourism does not have the interest they should have to make these activities happen in a more appropriate way. In contrast to tourism, the rules that fishers have to follow are enforced and can have serious consequences, such as jail time, that affect their livelihood: 128 The fishermen, we are talking about resources, they’re there wanting to fish; it’s their livelihood, they feed on that, sell it and such. So to them, laws and rules, many people come to hinder their work. It’s like the moratorium of piracatinga. The fisherman can no longer fish piracatinga commercially. Jacarés, botos are all protected by law—it’s an environmental crime, the person can be arrested if they kill a boto or a jacaré. So to them, they are rules that often are there to get in the way. Dishonesty and corruption The perspectives of fishing community leaders and government civil servants were similar in their skepticism of the other party being dishonest. For example, when talking about enforcing regulations, the superintendent of IBAMA-Amazonas emphasized the importance of catching fishers in the act, otherwise there is no real way of knowing whether the fish they caught was done so in an illegal area or in an illegal manner: I have to be exactly in that place, seeing him do the method because, after he catches the fish, if it was not at that time, he puts it inside the boat, okay. He’ll tell me that he caught it in the river normally. So I have to see it, arrive at the time he is doing the batição8, for example. On the other hand, the president of a fishers’ union spoke about lies stemming from government agencies and corruption within the federal government. The non-payment of seguro defeso for 2015-2016 was blamed on fishers and other individuals scamming the system, collecting payment that was not rightfully theirs. According to the fishers’ union president, however, the government never worked with leaders of the fishing community to come to a solution that did not penalize all members of that community. Rather, they elected to withhold payment for all, allegedly because of scams committed by a few: We were greatly harmed by many lies and we thought that the government acted cowardly with us by not calling us to discuss the situation of the fishing sector of the category of artisanal fishermen... There have been many scams within the fishermen, yes, because there are many who were not fishermen and received the seguro defeso and that is where we agree with the government, that it [fraud] exists. We need to get it organized, 8 Batição is a prohibited method of fishing where a fisher places a net to close off a location, usually a place where fish feed, where there are aquatic plants. When the fisher has closed off the net and thus cut off potential exits, s/he will hit the water to make noise, which causes the fish to swim into the closed-off net. 129 but the way that the government did it, they made it so that everyone paid for one mistake, and that’s not the way we want it. The situation surrounding the non-payment of seguro defeso was complicated beyond the issue of fishers not receiving the payment they were owed. On 05 October 2015, the federal government issued Interministerial Ordinance 192 (Portaria Interministerial nº 192, de 5 de outubro de 2015), which suspended a number of federal ordinances and normative rulings, including Ordinance 48/1997, which regulates the seguro defeso. Because Ordinance 48 became suspended, Ordinance 192 allowed fishing to occur during the reproductive season, an otherwise prohibited time. It is important to note, however, that this ordinance applied at the federal level; a state ordinance in Amazonas banning fishing during this period had not been suspended. Thus, some fishers were under the impression that the fishing season was open, and were caught and punished by state enforcement agents: The state ordinance, the decree, also said that we could not fish. So when 192 lifted fishing [prohibitions], fishermen went fishing and the environmental battalion went there and apprehended the boats, canoe, fishermen, apprehended everything, the fish, because it was prohibited by one state. It was federally cleared [but] the state decree was not lifted, because at the time of the prohibition from November 15 to March 15, a state ordinance prohibiting [fishing came into being] also. It was suspended federally but not by the state. -Union president Moreover, according to the union president, this ordinance had environmental repercussions that could already be felt. When the federal ban was lifted, fishers caught fish that would have otherwise been prohibited (juvenile and reproductive fish). This meant that there were less fish the following season because an entire generation of fish had been caught: What the government did not want was to pay the seguro defeso to the fishermen, and that there has started a major environmental impact because the fishermen were fishing all the species, because they weren’t receiving [the seguro defeso payment] and had no money. And whoever is hungry goes in search of food, and so the fishermen went in search [for food], fishing the species with eggs, with fry, and with everything and a devastation had begun, because at that time it would be forbidden to fish if the seguro defeso had been paid. We already feel some of this impact because the river did not fill 130 [with fish]; the fish did not come out of the lake to reproduce and what was left, the fishermen caught to sell because he wasn’t receiving the seguro defeso. In three years if the government doesn’t see the environment, doesn’t look at that side [of things], other NGOs do not see that, many species will disappear because of non- compliance from the federal government. That will cause a major environmental impact within our state. When asked why the payment had not gone out that year, respondents reported a variety of reasons. The fishers’ union president attributed it to government corruption, stating that the Brazilian government spent R$112 billion more than it should have, and took money from the seguro defeso to help plug the hole that resulted from embezzlement. According to an ICMBio employee, the non-payment was due to a lack of resources and some legal problems regarding the new list of endangered fish species, but also mentioned a nationwide economic crisis and a reallocation of environmental funds to other areas: but the real reason for being suspended is that Brazil is going through a major crisis. The environmental area is never a priority so if money will be cut from some place, then they cut it from the environmental area first, and also the fishing industry itself because they used the justification that the insurance was suspended to release fishing, so we don’t know to what extent this was a lobby for these endangered species to be fished... But I believe the main reason is really a lack of resources. Partnership Despite some conflicts among the different communities and stakeholder groups, partnership was a common theme among all five respondents in leadership and government positions. The superintendent of IBAMA-Amazonas was especially vocal about the importance of collaboration and partnership with different groups of people in policing and enforcing environmental laws. According to him, ribeirinhos who do not work with or for commercial fishing operations are a particularly important and vocal group of informants who often report crimes being committed by commercial fishers. This is because traditional ribeirinhos are usually farmers and cannot dedicate much time to catching fish, which is the majority of animal 131 protein in their diet; instead, they need to devote their time to their productive activity, which is farming. Thus, when commercial fishing operations come into their communities and fish illegally, there is more incentive for ribeirinhos to report such activity because there are direct negative impacts on their communities in addition to competition over the same resources. This is also the case for other extractive activities, such as logging and mining, that may have negative impacts on ribeirinho communities: So, he likes to get to the river, he preserves [the environment], he does environmental conservation to have [fish] in abundance [in order] for him not to [waste time] or effort, because he doesn’t have the right equipment, he still uses traditional methods of fishing, to go and quickly have that amount of fish for one, two days. There are even communities that have the fisherman: he fishes for the whole community and the community members take care of his farm. So now, when professional fishing begins to invade these spaces that they conserve and preserve, and they take the fish, then the [amount] of time that he, the ribeirinho, has to spend [to catch fish] is already great. It’s a competitiveness, that he doesn’t have the conditions to face them alone and he reports it. Usually, that’s the way it is. For this reason they report more; it’s a natural competition there. And today we also have to recognize that the degree of awareness has increased greatly, from the need to conserve this resource. Because the material effort of the professional fisherman’s catch – he is more and more aggressive. If you used to fish with small gillnets, today they are fishing with huge nets... Other factors, such as deforestation, for example, mining that they have in the rivers, they are also driving away and decreasing the supply of fish in the rivers. And the ribeirinho, the indigenous people, the whole population is going to feel a lot disadvantaged because they depend a lot on the fishing resource for their subsistence. Beyond the ribeirinhos, effective enforcement depends on partnerships. By law, jurisdiction for certain activities is dealt at different scales—federal, state, and municipalities— but because of the shortcomings they have in their structure, and because of the enormity of the region, partnerships among government agencies, NGOs, and institutions are crucial. No one here alone can handle it. So you partner with other government agencies and, especially, non-governmental [organizations], have partnerships with ribeirinho communities, with institutions, institutions working on research... to have local support. - IBAMA-Amazonas superintendent 132 In terms of creating effective solutions to environmental problems, the ICMBio employee emphasized the need to work with the local people. He stated earlier that enforcement alone will not solve problems; it is necessary to involve the communities who are impacted because they are the ones who encounter the issues on a daily basis and have an intimate understanding of the landscape. Not only that, but the development models that are imparted on local populations do not work and cause many social and environmental problems: ...what will save the Amazon are the people here, the populations from here, the way they relate to the forest because we simply import a development model that we know does not work that brings a lot of problems, not only environmental but social, and wanting to implement this project that has already gone wrong will not work here. It’s obvious. Because of this, I have a lot of reservations about these hydroelectric projects, to the large highways that will cut the Amazon, of building ports... This is an extremely damaging model for the region, so people have to look more closely at how traditional populations lived here throughout all this time, how they relate to resources. It’s obvious that it does not mean that everything they do is correct—there are many communities where hunting is a problem. Commercial hunting is always a problem, in many places subsistence can also be a problem, it’s just that we have to be very open and to count on the people that already live here. Conservation only exists with the people. The regulations for BIP activities were also formed through partnerships among IBAMA, ICMBio, INPA, and other stakeholders interested in managing BIP tourism: In 2010, IBAMA and ICMBio formed a team—together with INPA and some other professionals, people interested in creating a way to manage the boto activity formed a working group to discuss regulation. A draft document was written to discuss the regulations to authorize this activity, and the idea of this document was to make a normative ruling, which is a ministerial regulation. The draft was sent but it stopped in Brasilia. -IBAMA environmental analyst Interestingly, the demands for regulating BIP activities arose from the BIP operators themselves. According to an environmental analyst with ICMBio, IBAMA was sought out by individuals working with boto tourism to understand how to conduct the activities properly. At the same time, they began to receive pressure from the public ministry and society at large for the activity to be regulated with standards and rules. Partnership became necessary because while 133 IBAMA was the most public and well-known environmental agency, ICMBio was actually the administrative body given jurisdiction over the conservation of endangered wildlife. In this sense, ICMBio is actually the agency who would be responsible for BIP tourism. So as IBAMA was the environmental agency and is still more seen and better known by the population, it was IBAMA at the time to take that forward and to create some discussions, and from there the thing unfolded and today we have several people involved in all this. In the meantime, ICMBio emerged, which is where I work now, and it also has among its responsibilities to do conservation of endangered fauna and wildlife in nature. So this, by the current legislation, is no longer IBAMA’s jurisdiction, it’s ICMBio’s. So we’re still involved with this, always trying to talk with collaborators, with the people who are involved in this to try to move it forward. -ICMBio environmental analyst While some respondents talked about partnerships in a positive light, others expressed grievances with regards to a lack of partnership or support. The president of one community said that he finds it gratifying when he does have support from other entities that recognize him and his community, but that if he could change something, it would be for the organizations and other entities to have “a little more respect for us” (Community president, personal communication, 11 August 2016). He spoke about councilmen passing them by and not realizing that the community members are the ones who preserve the area: What I tell you is that my ancestors, great-grandfather, great-great-grandfather who founded [this community], so I’m a third-generation man living here. So that’s what we would like people to respect... there are people who pass us by and think that we are nothing. With regards to the fishing prohibitions, the community president expressed frustration over a lack of economic alternatives and understanding, stating that people in his community would starve without a viable alternative to fishing or hunting. His community in particular had the additional challenge of being situated within a protected area, and he also claimed that the studies on which many of the regulations are based were conducted in regions that differed 134 ecologically. If there were a management plan or viable alternative alongside the prohibitions, or at least place-based regulations, it would make a difference for his community: The problem is that children can’t be raised as I was raised. Children have to have more knowledge than I [had] because the world today is not the one I was born in, so I find difficulty because there is no alternative life for anyone, to have knowledge. You see that a family, a father has one or two children, he has to raise his son and he has to fish, he has to hunt, to be able to raise the child with a full belly, and then with that prohibition they don’t bring an alternative, they don’t bring a management plan, they do not bring fish, they only try to put laws. To put a law is to sign a paper and that's... okay, now, we live here, it’s difficult because I'm not going to die of hunger nor let my son go hungry knowing that a tapir, a pig is food for them, because often a school of fish is passing by and it is small fish, it is not closed, but I will not let my community go hungry. Then often, the government or ruler of our country and state, he doesn’t have an attitude of caring for those who are living around the reservation, because we are around the reserve, for us it is different. Sometimes they bring a study that was done in Santa Catarina... and the temperature is not like ours here, it is not there, they have to first study our climate, our land because each state, each municipality has a culture. Challenges for community leaders and civil servants All interview participants in this category were asked what the most difficult parts of their jobs were, or the greatest challenges they face. The two resounding challenges that emerged from the interviews were 1) a lack of human and/or financial resources, and 2) unclear jurisdiction among government enforcement agencies. Human and financial resources All community leaders and civil servants responded that a lack of human and/or financial resources proved to be a challenge in accomplishing their goals. For fishers who live in remote areas, this includes an inability or much difficulty in receiving and accessing information, and traveling into town to receive seguro defeso payments or to show up for court appointments, in the case of fishers who have been fined. For fishers residing within a protected area, it can take 12 or more hours to reach the area where fishers normally go (Community president, personal communication, 11 August 2016). 135 In addition to these challenges, fishers sometimes find themselves in a cycle of illegal activity. One of the most common infractions cited by the fishers’ union president was fishers not carrying their registered fishing identification. The problem, according to him, is that these ID cards are no longer delivered to the fishers, or they take a long time to arrive. On top of that, if a fisher is caught with illegal species, s/he is fined anywhere from 3,000 to 50,000 BRL and if s/he cannot pay this fine, their CPF may become effectively invalid, which makes it nearly impossible for the individual to buy anything with credit or that would require a CPF (e.g., cellular SIM cards). The government might also cancel the fisher’s registration, which then continues the cycle of illegal activity: Since 2013, they [haven’t] delivered the card. So he says, “I’m a fisherman,” and [they ask] “where is the card?” Then they don’t have the card because it takes a long time to arrive... Many fishermen decide to fish those prohibited species, so if the fisherman decides to fish the legal species but then in the same boat or in the same Styrofoam box he throws a fish that is forbidden, then that forbidden fish causes the rest of the legal fish to be seized. The difficulty is that the fisherman will take a fine of 3,000 to 50,000 reais, then his CPF9 will become dirty because he won’t be able to pay the fine, then he can’t get anything, can’t buy [anything] in a store because his CPF is dirty... They sometimes cancel the card, not every time, but sometimes they have the card canceled and it gets more difficult. I think that when the fisherman is caught in illegality he has to be punished, but he is punished in such a strict arena that he can’t recover his citizenship and there are so many serious crimes from other people that do not suffer as much penalty. For environmental agencies, the lack of both human and financial resources is due in part to environmental issues not being prioritized in Brazil: The hardest part of my job is not having adequate conditions to develop the work. We work with a very large deficit of financial and human resources and at the same time that we see the necessities, the things that need some kind of support, of intervention, we don’t have the means to make it happen. So this is a great difficulty. Another is that I work in the environmental field, and the environmental field is not a priority in this country, so it’s difficult to work in an area that many consider an obstacle, a problem for development. -ICMbio employee 9 CPF is the Cadastro de Pessoas Físicas, the Brazilian taxpayer registry. It is an identification number for Brazilians and foreigners who are subject to taxes in Brazil. 136 The environmental problems that are prioritized are deforestation, mining, and hydroelectric projects. These priority areas and goals are set annually, and funding and human resources are focused on these projects. Non-priority issues like the regulation of BIP activities are only attended to if time and resources are available: In the Amazon, [the priority] is the fight against deforestation, mainly in the south of the state, in the arc of deforestation. Today there’s a very big demand regarding the hydroelectric projects here in the Amazon, so much emphasis is given to the licensing of hydroelectric dams. Mining, too. And if you’re talking about fauna, the priority is endangered fauna... But when we are speaking at a macro level, where the decisions are made, Brasilia, the Ministry of Environment, wherever... the priority is to combat deforestation. And in the Amazon, there are also a lot of issues with Conservation Units [protected areas], but even for this there are lots of difficulties. There’s no money, there are no people, there are no resources. -Tambaqui, ICMbio employee We have a very limited technical staff to deal with an enormous number of demands, so this technical staff must prioritize action and the priority today, in my view, in terms of the Amazon, is the fight against deforestation. So the main priority today of IBAMA is the fight against deforestation. So, often, the enforcement teams are in operations to combat deforestation, so there are few people left to work in the area. -Lily, IBAMA employee Regarding BIPs specifically, the problem is complicated further by divergent understandings of legislation among people within institutions. For example, there is legislation in Brazil that forbids harassment of cetaceans (Lei nº 7.643 de 18 de dezembro de 1987). According to Lily, different people interpret this legislation differently; some say that by definition, boto tourism cannot exist because it is harassment of cetaceans. [Some people say] that this legislation would be enough to say that one cannot have this use of [botos]. Except that there are different interpretations, there are different understandings of “harassing,” which is maltreatment, and in order to make a report that the animal is being mistreated or that the other is not being mistreated, there are different views between this. Another camp believes that there should be regulation so that the practice can be carried out, as long as it does not harm the animal’s ecology or welfare. These divergent perspectives have 137 obstructed progress in regulating the activity, especially because there are even different perspectives within and between institutions. The rules put in place to informally regulate BIP activity are thus unclear in a legal sense. At the time of data collection, the activity itself sat in a liminal legal state, where it was technically illegal, but de facto allowed through a “gentlemen’s agreement” between BIP operators and the government. Operators were granted unofficial permission to continue these activities as long as they agreed to follow the informal rules set by INPA and ICMBio. This made enforcement difficult because by law, BIP tourism is illegal and all flutuantes would have to be seized if strict enforcement was carried out. Moreover, there is simply not much interest on the part of enforcement agencies to oversee BIP tourism because deforestation is prioritized and human and financial resources are lacking: Since there isn’t even a law for it, it’s difficult to supervise, it’s very difficult to supervise because if you were to follow the oversight to the letter, probably all those flutuantes would be embargoed because they don’t have a type of license to make use of the wildlife. They make use of the wildlife, no one has authorization or license for this, so what exists is almost a gentlemen's agreement. They can do it in a not so invasive way, in a way that basically respects these animals and for this they have to follow these rules and at the same time we will be waiting for a law for them to get licensed, to have a permit/authorization for it. So it’s difficult to enforce, because if the prosecutor goes there, what exists in the law does not allow the activity to happen, then the activity would have to be seized, to the rigor of the law. This is a great difficulty of enforcement and also, besides that, it’s not a priority. This type of inspection/enforcement in the Amazon is not a priority because the enforcement agencies here also have many difficulties, of money, of people and here the great demand for enforcement is deforestation. So for an agency to inspect anything related to fauna, it occurs if there is time and if there is demand from the Public Ministry. If it gets too complicated we will go there, but if not... this is what we realize, that there is not such a great interest of enforcement agencies in actually overseeing this type of activity. But environmental agencies and researchers are working to establish rules to control the activity until it becomes formally regulated at the state or federal level. -Tambaqui, ICMBio employee The confusion and lack of resources among the institutions involved in enforcement have further hindered the process of regulating BIP activity, especially within protected areas. The agencies 138 responsible for this regulation differ depending on whether it is located within a federal or state protected area. If it is, the manager of that protected area is responsible for authorizing the activity. Theoretically, IBAMA has jurisdiction over all public areas, but because the boto is a threatened species, ICMBio has responsibility as well. So, it resulted in a conflict of understandings, responsibilities, and this has hindered the regulation and consequently the control, both of the places that are already practicing [the activity] as well as the control of the increase of these activities, both here in the metropolitan region and in the interior. There are places that even today we still have no idea of what is really happening. Unclear jurisdiction For both fishing and boto tourism activities, the question of enforcement falls into a number of different agencies and organizations. Often, the main confusion lies in whether IBAMA or ICMBio is responsible for enforcing or monitoring certain regulations, because much of their respective responsibilities overlap, particularly in the case of wildlife management: This is why it is vital that IBAMA participates in that discussion, because it is a control and regulatory agency in some stages of the process, although this issue of regulation has changed a lot since 2011 due to a new complementary law, which is the law 140 from 2011, which changed the management of fauna in Brazil because before, when talking about animals, the agency managing monitoring and control was IBAMA. After the publication of this legislation, the management of fauna—the responsibilities began to be redistributed, so IBAMA, ICMBio, and the state government have some common responsibilities and other particular, more specific responsibilities. So, for instance, fauna and wildlife management is under Federal purview, so both ICMBio and IBAMA should do the management part of fauna and wildlife management. -Lily, IBAMA employee With fishing, the process of enforcement goes through a number of entities. IBAMA works with the Environmental Police for a majority of inspections and enforcement operations, but the state environmental agencies, SEMA and IPAAM (the State Secretariat for the Environment, and the Environmental Protection Institute of Amazonas, respectively), and ICMBio are also involved, as well as the Federal Public Ministry. 139 In addition to negotiating the potential confusion among agencies to understand who is responsible for carrying out what task, there are geographic challenges to enforcing environmental law in the Amazon. The region spans an enormous amount of water and land with a complex network of tributaries and streams, and enforcement requires in-depth knowledge of the area to understand the complexities of seasonal differences in protected area delineations, water-based travel networks, species abundance, and locations of il/legal activities: Amazonas has its natural complexity due to the immensity of water courses, water resources, rivers, streams, holes, that form tangles, form true labyrinths. So, you have to have a good structure for enforcement, you have to have fundamental knowledge about the region in order to be able to identify the locations and the escape routes that you have. And so, that's another degree of complexity because the abundance of water courses here and fish capture sites, it creates a degree of difficulty. So we have some operations here, we have defined some operations specific to fishing, taking into account seasons ... Here, then, as I said, you need to have the knowledge. So, we have the knowledge of the time when certain species are captured more. So this is an indication for you to plan any actions for [specific] times. -IBAMA-Amazonas superintendent Thus, in addition to acquiring the necessary human and financial resources, agencies also need to consider the logistical and ecological details that come along with enforcement in complex environments. 3.5 Discussion and Conclusion This chapter outlined some of the de jure legislation that impacts local artisanal fishers and BIP operators, and the disconnects that exist between legislation, individuals’ understanding of the legislation, and de facto fishing and BIP practices. It also explored the complications that arise on the leadership and enforcement side of the picture, and how these challenges may impact all stakeholders. These findings are discussed below. 140 Cultural considerations It has been suggested that cultural beliefs in the legend of the boto have had two opposite effects: that they have traditionally shielded botos from human harm, but also served as a potential catalyst for the direct killing of botos (Loch, Marmontel, and Simões-Lopes 2009). Prevalence of these beliefs, if still widespread, could have implications for regulation and enforcement of activities that result in direct harm to botos, particularly in the case of fishers. However, findings from this study suggest that a majority of local residents no longer believe in the legend, nor do they continue telling it to others, with the exception of BIP 6, who includes it in their visitor lectures. At the same time, a majority of respondents indicated recognition of botos as being important for either the local ecosystem, local communities, or both, regardless of whether they were fishers or BIP operators. Furthermore, BIP tourism potentially serves to further erode any remaining belief in the mythology surrounding the boto, given the constant, direct contact with botos that does not produce the negative consequences forewarned by the legend. Contrary to the idea that these beliefs may contribute to the reasons fishers directly harm botos, their degradation may serve as a stepping stone towards stronger support for conservation. Fishers and BIP operators: policy versus practice For fishers, gauging potential disconnect between what they understood about the law and what they actually practiced was difficult, given my inability to validate their claims and observe their fishing practices over the course of a year. However, it is clear that fishers have a solid understanding of the key parts of legislation that affect fishing practices: specific types of fish are prohibited in specific months of the year. Interestingly, some participants were open and candid with regards to their own illegal fishing practices, but this was a minority of respondents. 141 At the same time, it is important to keep in mind that acquiring reliable fishing data in either direction (legal or illegal) is difficult without having a way to know what they are actually doing. Based on the information provided by fishers in this study, it would appear that illegal fishing activity could happen for one of three reasons: 1) fishers may feel obligated out of necessity, if fishing conditions are poor; 2) fishers may act in retaliation against what they perceive to be laws that infringe upon their natural rights; or 3) legislation can change so quickly, or contradict other known legislation, that they are caught unaware of the fact that they have actually committed a crime. With BIP operators, there were a number of disconnects between informal regulations, what they stated to be their understanding of those regulations, and how they actually carried out their activities. In some cases, operators did not vocalize understanding of specific regulations (e.g., the recommended method of attracting botos), but direct observations demonstrated that operators performed the activity to the standards of those regulations. However, in most cases where operators demonstrated understanding and awareness of a given regulation, what they actually practiced did not align with that regulation. For some rules (e.g., keeping crowds quiet, not touching botos intentionally), this is likely due to the difficulty in handling large groups of tourists; for others, it may be due to poor management decisions, or problems within the tourism industry itself (e.g., tour guides, rather than BIP operators, giving instructional lectures to tourists). Whatever shortcomings BIP operators have in adhering to the regulations, it is clear that all operators have a connection with their work and the botos who visit their platforms. This connection appears to translate to a desire and drive to protect wildlife, and a recognition of the larger ecological picture in which they are part of. 142 Understanding the disconnect between policy and practice: prioritization of issues and resources Although environmental legislation in Brazil is robust, the system for enforcing environmental policy in the Brazilian Amazon is limited by the amount of financial, human, and temporal resources available to the enforcement agencies. De jure policies and de facto practices do not always align, particularly with BIP activities; inconsistencies exist in terms of how individuals carry out their activities and how those activities are regulated. This likely results from the aforementioned challenges faced by stakeholders, coupled with a lack of political will in some cases. Corruption within the system may also play a role, both at the federal level and more local levels. Because deforestation is a much more widespread issue and a higher priority for the government, boto tourism activities are low on the priority list, and draft legislation has been slow-moving in the legislative system. However, on 22 January 2018, the State Environmental Council (CEMAAM) of Amazonas passed a resolution that establishes (1) procedures for authorization of the activity; (2) standards for the sites and structure for the interaction between tourists and animals; (3) rules to ensure low-impact interaction between tourists and animals; (4) prohibition of activities between animals and tourists in boats; and (5) miscellaneous requirements, including mandated annual reporting of activities to the responsible environmental agency (SEMA Resolução/CEMAAM n° 28, de 22 de janeiro de 2018). Work to implement this new legislation has already begun in the Rio Negro Sustainable Development Reserve (RDS) in the municipality of Novo Airão, which includes Anavilhanas National Park. Meetings have been held with BIP operators and representatives from state and local environmental agencies, and the Department of Climate Change and Management of 143 Conservation Units (DEMUC) visited some BIPs to make necessary adjustments to comply with the law (Portal do Amazonas 2018). With this new law in place, future research pertaining to boto tourism can include assessing whether and how BIP operators are adhering to the resolution, and whether and how state and federal agencies are enforcing the resolution. Although it appears that BIP operators showed a lack of acknowledgement of certain rules and standards, this does not necessarily mean that they were not aware of, or did not adhere to, these rules. Some questions regarding their business practices—for example, hours of operation, number of visitors they receive—were built into the survey and specifically asked. Other questions were more open-ended (“Are there any rules visitors/employees must follow?”), and BIP operators often responded that there are many, but only named a few. If probed for more details about these rules, they sometimes volunteered more information. However, it is also possible that operators simply were not adhering to the rules for a number of reasons, and follow-up on these questions in the future will offer considerable value. The proactive behavior of some BIP operators in seeking out help from environmental agencies, which helped catalyze the movement to create this legislation, suggests a willingness and desire on the part of operators to understand more about the potential impacts of their businesses on local fauna and ecosystems. Moving forward, this is hopeful in terms of regulation compliance; continued collaborative interactions between BIP operators, environmental organizations, and government agencies may help ensure adherence to the new legislation. In contrast to BIP activities, fishing activities were much more strongly enforced, particularly in and around Anavilhanas National Park. Thus, the disconnect between policy and practice in terms of enforcement was less prevalent; however, challenges still exist for both 144 fishers and enforcement agencies that should be addressed in order to achieve high compliance to regulations. These include (1) unclear enforcement responsibilities and a lack of resources for enforcement agencies; (2) a complicated system for individuals living in rural and/or remote regions to access resources and information, and the judicial system; and (3) the sentiment among fishing communities that they have not been provided with adequate alternatives. Partnering to move the conversation forward Although there were instances of frustration within communities toward other stakeholder groups, the idea of partnerships and collaboration was prevalent, especially among community leaders and environmental agency employees. This suggests that those involved in decision-making and enforcement are indeed interested in working with—rather than against, as they are sometimes perceived to be—stakeholder groups like fishers and BIP operators. Amicable partnerships and collaboration are crucial in fostering strong communities and resident-government relations; based on conversations with study participants, these partnerships and relations seem to already exist in many cases, but could also be expanded to those communities and individuals who expressed much frustration toward enforcement agencies. Obviously, criminal activity will likely continue regardless of relations among the government and local residents; however, steps can be taken to work in tandem, rather than against, communities. It is clear that awareness about the issues surrounding fishing and tourism impacts on the boto have gained much momentum over the past decade. The passing of Resolution 28/2018 to regulate BIP tourism is a huge testament to this fact, as well as a small victory for the boto. Regardless of the disconnects that exist between policy and practice, it is obvious that this icon 145 of the Amazon has importance in the hearts and minds of people within and outside of Brazil, and will be conserved to the extent of political will. 146 REFERENCES 147 REFERENCES Alves, L. C. P. S., A. Andriolo, M. B. Orams, and A. F. Azevedo. 2011. The growth of “botos feeding tourism”, a new tourism industry based on the boto (Amazon river dolphin) Inia geoffrensis in the Amazonas State, Brazil. 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Garcia, L. Dietzsch, F. Merry, M. Bowman, L. Hissa, R. Silvestrini, and C. Maretti. 2010. Role of Brazilian Amazon protected areas in climate change mitigation. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences 107 (24):10821–10826. 150 SPATIOTEMPORAL TERRITORIALITIES OF THE AMAZON RIVER DOLPHIN (INIA GEOFFRENSIS), FISHERS, AND TOURISM OPERATORS CHAPTER 4: 151 4.1 Introduction The Amazon river dolphin (Inia geoffrensis), known in Brazil as the boto, boto vermelho (red dolphin), or boto cor-de-rosa (pink dolphin), is a freshwater dolphin species endemic to the Orinoco and Amazon river basins. Historically, human contact and interactions with the boto were minimal, but interactions between humans and the boto have increased over time as human populations have expanded. Botos face a number of anthropogenic threats, including habitat degradation from deforestation, dam construction, pollution, and river traffic, as well as commercial fishing and direct killing (McGuire and Henningsen 2007; Araujo and da Silva 2014; Yamamoto et al. 2016). This chapter focuses on the interactions and spatial organization of two specific stakeholder groups with the boto: artisanal (subsistence) fishers and boto interaction platform (BIP) tourism operators. Conflicts have long been known to exist between fishers and the boto. Fishers often view the boto as a resource competitor and disruptor of fishing activities, who can and often do destroy fishing gear and equipment, by tearing through nets to access the fish caught inside them, or by accidentally getting caught in nets (da Silva and Best 1996; Loch, Marmontel, and Simões- Lopes 2009; Alves, Zappes, and Andriolo 2012; Iriarte and Marmontel 2013; Brum et al. 2015). More recently, botos have been slaughtered for use as bait for an industry centered around Calophysus macropterus, a species of necrophagous catfish known in Brazil as piracatinga (da Silva and Martin 2010; Mintzer et al. 2013). The combination of these anthropogenic harms has resulted in continual declines of boto populations in Brazil (da Silva et al. 2018). Tourism with botos is another anthropogenic activity with the potential to exacerbate boto vulnerability. This small but growing industry has gained popularity since the late 1990s, 152 when it began at a small flutuante (a floating structure, referred to in this chapter as a boto interaction platform (BIP) in the municipality of Novo Airão, which is located approximately 115-km northwest of Manaus, the state capital of Amazonas, Brazil (Alves et al. 2011). Over the past few decades, an industry based on the premise of tourists being able to get up-close with botos has blossomed into an activity that is now regulated by the state government in Amazonas (SEMA Resolução/CEMAAM n º. 28, de 22 de janeiro de 2018). The activity takes place at BIPs along the Rio Negro and other locales in the Amazon, where visitors pay to get close to botos provisioned by a BIP operator. In most locales, visitors are allowed to enter the water as well; however, the one location in this study that does not allow entry into the water is the original BIP in Novo Airão. The potential harm in provisioning and interacting with wild cetaceans has been well- documented (e.g., Baker, Perry, and Vequist 1988; MacGibbon 1991; Blane and Jaakson 1995; Wursig 1996; Constantine 2001; Nowacek and Wells 2001; Williams, Trites, and Bain 2002; Orams 2002; Lusseau and Higham 2004; Peters et al. 2013; Christiansen et al. 2016; Hazelkorn, Schulte, and Cox 2016). In the Brazilian Amazon, the issue is compounded by shared resources and space among fishers, tourism operators and tourists, and the botos themselves. Current accounts relay threats to the boto from either fishing communities or BIP operators (e.g., Mintzer et al. 2013; Alves et al. 2011; Alves et al. 2013) but fail to consider the potential spatial overlap and interaction between these actors and their economic activities, which may have important implications for boto vulnerability. The spatial interactions between these groups may intensify depending on the season. Whereas BIPs operate throughout the year (though tourism is likely diminished during the rainy season), fishing is mostly limited to the dry season (June-December) when water level drops and 153 fish movement is restricted. Seasonality also affects the movements of botos. Studies concerning the spatial and temporal movement of the boto are driven primarily by seasonal river fluctuation and habitat preferences of botos, and have not yet incorporated human presence (Vidal et al. 1997; Martin and da Silva 2004; Martin, da Silva, and Salmon 2004; Gomez-Salazar et al. 2012; Araujo and da Silva 2014; Yamamoto et al. 2016). Given that humans are increasingly coming into contact with botos, both through longstanding activities like fishing and newer ones like BIP tourism, it is important to understand how these three stakeholder groups utilize their spaces throughout the year, and how these spaces might overlap. Moreover, Inia geoffrensis population research is logistically challenging due to the difficulty in spotting and tracking the animals, as well as the enormity of their habitat range. Modeling potential habitat of the boto can provide researchers with a more streamlined, visual tool to supplement studies in estimating the numbers and locales in which botos may inhabit. Going into this study, I expected that: (1) boto territorialities overlap spatially with both fishers and BIPs; (2) during the high-water period, fisher and BIP overlap is diminished, but overlap of BIPs and boto territorialities still exist; (3) fisher territorialities exacerbate boto vulnerability; and (4) boto vulnerability is exacerbated during the low-water (dry) season by increased tourism and fishing activities, and minimized during the high-water season, when both fishing and tourism activity decreases (Table 4.1). 154 Table 4.1. Expectations for spatial and temporal overlap of fisher, BIP, and boto territorialities. Spatial overlap Temporal overlap Expectations (cid:1)Boto territorialities overlap spatially with both fishers and BIPs (cid:1)Fisher territorialities exacerbate boto vulnerability High water season: (cid:1)Fisher and BIP overlap is diminished (cid:1)BIPs and boto territorialities still overlap (cid:1)Boto vulnerability is minimized because of decrease in fishing and tourism activity Low water season: (cid:1)Boto vulnerability is exacerbated by increased tourism and fishing activities With these issues and expectations in mind, the research in this chapter explores the spatial and temporal uses of space among fishers, BIP operators, and botos, with the aim to delineate the geographic spaces occupied and utilized by fishers and tourism operators over time, and illuminate potential spatiotemporal overlap of these actors which may exacerbate boto vulnerability and/or lead to conflict within and among stakeholder groups. 4.2 Methods This research uses spatial and temporal data collected from interviews and surveys with fishers and BIP operators, as well as a geospatial modeling exercise with remotely-sensed data to identify boto territoriality and potential stakeholder overlap. In this study, boto territoriality is defined as spaces of optimal boto habitat, as predicted by habitat preferences and characteristics described in previous studies (see "Modeling boto habitat preferences" below). I created three layers representing three primary spaces of concern—fishing activity, BIP activity, and boto activity—to overlay and highlight potential areas of conflict and spaces of overlap. Field data collection took place from June through August 2016 (the high-water period in this region) along an approximately 95-km stretch of the Lower Rio Negro outside of Manaus, 155 Amazonas in Brazil (Figure 4.1). Six BIPs were selected for study, and BIP operator participants were recruited during visits to each BIP. Fisher participants were recruited by visiting residences and communities first within a 1-km radius of each BIP and expanding outwards as necessary until willing participants were identified. Proximity to a BIP was required in order to recruit fisher participants who were familiar with boto tourism activities and who may have been directly impacted by such activities. A total of 11 fishers and 10 BIP operators were surveyed and interviewed for information about the spatial and seasonal variations in their respective activities. Location coordinates were taken at each interview site; BIP locations are publicly known and indicated in the study area map below (Figure 4.1), but fisher locations are omitted from these results to maintain the confidentiality of fisher respondents. In place of exact fisher locations, a 15-km radius buffer is placed around each of the three clusters of BIPs, representing the general vicinity in which interviews and surveys were conducted. 156 Figure 4.1. Study area map with BIPs and approximated fishing activity. Sampled boto interaction platforms (BIPs) are depicted in circles; fishing communities and residences are approximated by a 15-km buffer around each cluster of BIPs. Fisher and BIP spatiotemporal data Fishers and BIP operators were asked about the frequency of their respective activities, spatial and temporal variation in activity throughout the year and perceived causes of these variations, and observations pertaining to the frequency of human-boto contact, including their own. Fishers were also asked about their preferred locations for fishing activities, which were to be mapped at a later time. Satellite imagery of local areas were provided for reference—fishers were shown on the imagery where we were currently located, as well as nearby landmarks (e.g., local inns, well-known named tributaries to the Rio Negro, BIPs), and asked to identify and describe common fishing locales in relation to these landmarks. However, this was problematic for two primary reasons. First, fishers’ typical mode of navigation does not include an aerial perspective, so identifying specific sites or known features on such imagery was often not possible, or difficult to convey. Second, verbal accounts and descriptions of locations were 157 usually insufficient for accurate mapping. In lieu of these participatory mapping exercises, fishing activity is proxied here via population data acquired from the 1-km resolution 2016 LandScan Global Population product. With these data, the Expand tool in ArcMap 10.6 was used to generate a 2-km buffer from each pixel in the LandScan data set that contains a population greater than zero; this buffer represents the typical geographic footprint of small-scale, local subsistence fishers. The 2-km buffer distance was selected based on distance traveled for subsistence fishing purposes, as reported in fishers’ descriptions of the most common fishing areas just outside their communities (Fishers, personal communication, July and August 2016). Using Google Earth, the average measured distance between the community and these locations was determined to be 2-km. This estimate was selected for the buffer because it represents day- to-day subsistence fishing activities, which require less resources than the longer-distance (and often overnight) fishing trips reported. Modeling boto habitat preferences Information pertaining to habitat preferences and seasonal movements of the boto were sourced from previous studies conducted within Mamiraua Sustainable Development Reserve, a protected area outside of Tefe, Amazonas on the Rio Solimoes (Amazon River) (Martin and da Silva 2004; Martin, da Silva, and Salmon 2004; Mintzer et al. 2016; Yamamoto et al. 2016). General preferences discussed in these studies were applied to the current study area of the Lower Rio Negro. Habitat preferences of the Amazon river dolphin vary depending on the seasonal cycle of water levels in the region. In the Lower Rio Negro, river levels fluctuate approximately 10-m between the low-water and high-water periods. In this region, the low-water period generally extends from September through November; during this period, water levels drop and many 158 beaches appear in formerly inundated regions of the river. The rainy season typically begins in November, leading up to the high-water period, which runs approximately from May through August. Flooded forests (igapós) form during this period, as the river and its tributaries flood their banks and inundate forested areas inland. The falling water period occurs after river levels reach their max, quickly receding into the low-water period. In a different region of the Amazon, approximately 530-km due west of Manaus on the Rio Solimoes, Martin and da Silva (2004) found that sexual segregation and boto habitat preferences correlate with this seasonal cycle of water levels (Figure 4.2). In their study, almost all botos were found along the margins of the main rivers during the low-water period. As water levels increased, they began to enter floodplain channels. Boto density in these channels peaked at mid-rising levels (February and March in their study region), after which point they found that almost all the animals surveyed on rivers were males. Sexual segregation begins to occur after this period: males move back to the rivers as the waters continue to rise, and females and their calves move further into the flooded areas. As waters recede and flooded areas become less accessible, some males re-enter floodplain channels from the rivers, and females also begin to move to these same channels. By September, almost all botos have returned to the main rivers (Martin and da Silva 2004). 159 Figure 4.2. Seasonal sex ratio of botos in relation to four major flooded forest habitats: main rivers, shallow bays adjacent to main rivers (ressacas), permanent lakes in seasonally flooded areas (várzea), and low-lying areas within várzea (chavascal). Reproduced from: Martin and da Silva (2004: 301). To model potential boto habitat in this region, remotely-sensed data were acquired and processed in Google Earth Engine with parameters set to represent preferred boto habitats. Surface and submerged vegetation was measured using NDVI data from NASA MODIS Terra Vegetation Indices (MOD13Q1 V6). Surface water data were acquired from JRC Global Surface Water Mapping Layers, v1.0 (Pekel et al. 2016). Suspended sediment was measured using the NASA MODIS (MOD09Q1 V6) Terra Surface Reflectance dataset. Digital elevation model (DEM) data sourced from ALOS Global 30-m DSM were used to locate the maximum flood extent. Floating vegetation has been found to be a preferred habitat for botos (Martin, da Silva, and Salmon 2004), who feed on species of small fish that use the vegetation as refuge (da Silva 1983; Crampton 1999). To measure the occurrence of floating vegetation, a minimum NDVI threshold of 0.2 was used. Previous studies have measured sparse-submerged vegetation at 0.2- 0.4 (Fusilli et al. 2012) and marshy vegetation at 0.24 (Marchetti et al. 2016), thus a threshold of 160 0.2 was selected to maximize identification of floating and partially submerged vegetation, while minimizing the inclusion of the most sparsely vegetated areas. Because river levels fluctuate drastically in the region in accordance to the flood cycle (Figure 4.3), the surface water presence data were parsed into two groupings. A threshold of 0.73 was used as a proxy for low water levels (or regular water presence); in this case, a threshold of 0.73 means that water is present at least 73% of the time (the upper quartile of water presence within the area of interest). This percentage conforms with the imagery available on Google Earth Engine. High water levels (seasonal) were classified as water present less than 73% of the time; these areas were categorized as “high water.” To estimate the maximum flood extent and identify potential flooded forests (igapós), a flood elevation was set at 30-m as the maximum height of the Rio Negro (Figure 4.3; Porto de Manaus 2018). Figure 4.3. Water levels in meters above sea level for the Lower Rio Negro for years 2007 through 2017. The black line depicts the 2007–2017 decadal average; the blue line depicts water levels for the year in which this study took place (2016). Data source: Porto de Manaus (2018). 161 Surface reflectance was used as a proxy for suspended sediment concentration (SSC), which is indicative of higher nutrient availability (Junk et al. 2015) and greater ecological productivity. Previous studies have also found that botos exhibit a preference for high-sediment segments of rivers that tend toward high productivity (Martin, da Silva, and Salmon 2004; Araujo and da Silva 2014). In the boto niche model, surface reflectance was set to a minimum of 0.0965. This value was derived from an average of measurements of surface reflectance reported in Park and Latrubesse (2015) for the Meeting of the Waters, which is a particularly productive micro-environment where the Rio Negro and Rio Solimões join and mix together. Average surface reflectance measurements on the Rio Negro side were 0.022, and 0.171 for the Rio Solimões (Laraque, Guyot, and Filizola 2009). An average of these two values was calculated to estimate the reflectance of suspended sediment along the confluence, where botos are known to frequent, in order to locate similar high-sediment loads throughout the normally low-sediment river. Boto niche was determined by combining suitable vegetation and sediment conditions to locate optimal boto habitats. With these data, three distinct categories of suitable habitat were determined based on data for 1) vegetation only, 2) sediment only, and 3) vegetation and sediment together. Optimal boto niche was defined as vegetation and sediment together. 4.3 Results 4.3.1 Spatiotemporal extent of optimal boto habitat Integrating the seasonal habitat preference template with the geospatial data described above, a boto niche model was developed for the Lower Rio Negro (Figure 4.4). The model combines areas of surface or submerged vegetation (highlighted in blue) with areas of suspended 162 sediment (highlighted in purple) to pinpoint potential areas of boto habitat (highlighted in pink). These areas tend to be located along river margins, within streams and inlets, and in lakes. Figure 4.4. Boto habitat model for study region, created in Google Earth Engine. Pink areas (vegetation and sediment) represent areas that exhibit optimal conditions for boto visitation, particularly in the low-water period. River levels are categorized into three groups: low water (dark gray), high water (medium gray), and flood (light gray). The light gray flood extent represents maximum inundation, based on the 30-m maximum river height between 2007 and 2017 (Figure 4.3). 4.3.2 Spatial and temporal variation of BIP activity BIPs operate year-round, closing only for “rest days” for the botos (Mondays and Wednesdays at the time of data collection). If a rest day coincides with a holiday, the BIP will be operational for that holiday but closed the following day. BIPs are moved, if possible and when necessary, in accordance to the rising and falling river levels to maintain access to sufficiently deep water for BIP activities. All BIPs are located in areas predicted to be optimal for boto visitation (Figure 4.5). It is important to note that data points here were taken during a high-water period. 163 Figure 4.5. BIPs depicted as yellow circles; pink areas highlight optimal (vegetation + sediment) boto niche areas. Purple areas highlight sediment-only boto niche areas; light blue areas highlight vegetation-only boto niche areas. From left to right: (a) BIPs 3, 2, and 1; (b) BIPs 5 and 4; (c) BIP 6. Refer to Figure 4.4 for extent map. Although BIPs are in operation year-round, tourist visitation varies depending on the time of year (Table 4.2). Most BIP operators reported that highest tourist visitation occurred at some point during the high-water period (particularly June and July; n=4), followed by end-of-the-year holidays (November and December; n=3) and school holidays (January, February, and July; n=2). Responses about low visitation were much more varied, and often contradicted what other BIP operators reported as high visitation months. Two operators said the low-water period receives the least amount of visitation because access becomes difficult, and since many tours are done by boat, some companies stop doing these tours because navigation is a challenge. One of these operators also said that January and February receive less visitation because of Carnaval; another said February and March are his slowest months. One operator who reported that the high visitation season spans from June onward also reported that lowest visitation is from February through August. In the high-water period, BIPs are likely to be located on the margins of the main river (Figure 4.5). In the low-water period, those that can be moved are relocated as necessary to areas of deeper water—typically further into the main river channel. 164 Table 4.2. Monthly BIP tourist visitation. Numbers represent number of BIP operators who reported visitation during these months. Peak high water ↓ Highest visitation Lowest visitation Jan Feb Mar Apr May June July Aug Sept Oct Nov Dec 2 1 2 — — 1 3 3 2 1 1 — 1 1 3 1 — — 3 2 3 2 4 1 ↑ Peak low water Boto aggression, movement, cost of fish, and types of fish used also varied with the different seasons. During the high-water period, fish are more expensive to purchase because they are harder to catch. When the river is full and forests become inundated with water, fish are able to scatter more easily and are thus more difficult to find. Species of fish also vary depending on the season, with jaraqui, cubiu, and mapará being commonly used in the high-water period, and cará, branquinha, and sardinha (sardines) being used in the low-water period. BIP operators (n=4) also reported botos acting most aggressively with each other during the high-water period—they associate this with mating season. Although boto reproduction occurs throughout the year, BIP operators perceived it to occur most frequently during the high- water period, with males acting more aggressively toward each other at this time. On the other hand, one BIP operator reported that botos are most aggressive with each other during the low- water period because more botos are present during the dry season. Botos are also reported by BIP operators to disappear more during the high-water period in order to follow the schools of fish (particularly jaraqui, mapará, and matrinxã) passing through. Operators also often observe the botos entering the flooded forest and nearby streams during this period, presumably to hunt for fish. Botos are also known to visit multiple BIPs, with one boto in particular having been spotted at both BIP 4 and BIP 6. 165 4.3.3 Spatial and temporal variation of fishing activity As noted with BIP operators, the availability of fish changes quite drastically throughout the year. All fishers agreed that fishing is much easier in the dry, low-water season and much more difficult in the high-water season, when flooded forests appear and fish scatter. In terms of the seasonality of conflict with botos, respondents who gave definitive answers were split across low-water (n=1), high-water (n=2), and falling water (n=1) periods being times of greatest conflict. Most respondents, however, reported that boto interference with fishing occurs all the time. At the time of interviewing (high-water season), one fisher who typically fishes from early morning until late afternoon reported that a boto had interfered with his fishing activities more than five times in the past week. Fishing locations also change throughout the year; while specific responses varied among individuals and fishing communities, in general fishers reported to fish “everywhere” during both seasons. More specific answers depended on the location of fishers’ residences; those who lived near a cluster of streams (igarapés) tended to respond that they would fish in those areas throughout the year. Another community located near the main channel of the Rio Negro had fishers who fished “on the rocks” of the banks of the river during the dry season, and in the flooded forest during the high-water season. Because certain species of fish are prohibited from being caught at certain times of the year (see Chapter 3), and additional prohibitions are in place for protected areas, respondents’ fishing locations varied from sites near their residences to as far away as 12 hours by boat. All respondents reported to fish for subsistence at least part of the year near their places of residence, regardless of whether they resided within protected area boundaries (Table 4.3). Subsistence fishing is allowed for residents of both the Rio Negro Sustainable Development Reserve and 166 Right Bank of the Rio Negro Environmental Protection Area (which is a terrestrial protected area); it is not legal in Anavilhanas National Park. Due to the difficulties associated with changing water levels and access to legal fishing areas, some respondents reported traveling to Barcelos, Rio Unini, or Lake Janauari for fishing activities (Figure 4.6). Lake Acajatuba, another popular fishing area, is also depicted in Figure 4.6. Those fishers who lived south of Anavilhanas reported to fish from their communities up until Anavilhanas, recognizing that if they are caught fishing in the National Park that they could be arrested and have their fish and fishing equipment confiscated. Regardless of this knowledge, at least one fisher responded that they sometimes still fish in Anavilhanas. Of the 10 fishers surveyed, four reported to fish predominantly or only at night (typically from 8 pm and on); one only during the day; one only in the mornings; and the others reporting a combination of mornings (typically leaving at 5 am), afternoons (after lunch), and night, depending on the season and how far they would be traveling. In one case, a fisher stated that they sometimes spend a week in their canoe at a lake and come back on a Friday, Saturday, or Sunday. 167 Table 4.3. Locations of study sites with respect to protected areas. “Community” and “Residence” study sites refer to areas where surveys and interviews were conducted with fishers. Study site BIP 1† BIP 2 BIP 3 BIP 4 BIP 5 BIP 6 BIP 7 Community 1 Community 2 Community 3 Residence 1 Residence 2 Protected area proximity Adjacent Adjacent Adjacent Adjacent Within Within Within Within Within Within Within Within Protected area category Protected area Environmental Protected Area (IUCN V) Environmental Protected Area (IUCN V) Environmental Protected Area (IUCN V) Environmental Protected Area (IUCN V) Sustainable Development Reserve Sustainable Development Reserve Ramsar Site, Wetland of International Importance (IUCN II) Environmental Protected Area (IUCN V) Sustainable Development Reserve Environmental Protected Area (IUCN V)* Environmental Protected Area (IUCN V)* Environmental Protected Area (IUCN V)* Right Bank of the Rio Negro Environmental Protection Area Right Bank of the Rio Negro Environmental Protection Area Right Bank of the Rio Negro Environmental Protection Area Right Bank of the Rio Negro Environmental Protection Area Rio Negro Sustainable Development Reserve Rio Negro Sustainable Development Reserve Anavilhanas National Park Right Bank of the Rio Negro Environmental Protection Area Rio Negro Sustainable Development Reserve Right Bank of the Rio Negro Environmental Protection Area Right Bank of the Rio Negro Environmental Protection Area Right Bank of the Rio Negro Environmental Protection Area Source: IUCN and UNEP-WCMC (2018) * These communities/residences are technically within the boundaries of the Environmental Protection Area, but are also adjacent to Anavilhanas National Park. In interviews, respondents in this area referred to the locale as being housed within Anavilhanas. † This BIP was not included in formal data collection; a pilot study was conducted here. 168 Figure 4.6. Map of fishing areas located outside of the communities of those fishers reporting the locations. Anavilhanas National Park is outlined in green; the dashed blue line depicts the distance (approximately 430-km) between Manaus and Barcelos via the Rio Negro. 4.3.4 Spaces of contention: human and boto overlap As stated previously, BIP operations are all located in areas predicted to be optimal boto niche areas (Figure 4.5). This is likely the case throughout the year, as BIP operators must maintain access to botos in order to continue tourist activities. To estimate potential conflict spaces between fishers and botos, population data from the LandScan (2016) dataset were overlaid with boto niche data. A 2-km buffer was created for each population pixel in the study area as a proxy for small-scale, local subsistence fisher activity, and pixels where human presence (i.e., the 2-km buffer) overlapped with boto niche at both low water and high water 169 were highlighted as potential areas of conflict (Figure 4.7a). Maximum flood extent is omitted here to focus more on regular spatial interactions; however, it is important to note that the flood extent also likely covers flooded forest habitat, and fisher respondents indicated that these igapós are important fishing areas during the high-water period (refer to Figure 4.3 water levels). Percentage of overlapped spaces were calculated by dividing the total number of pixels of overlap by the total number of boto niche pixels. Results indicate that in this study area (that is, the extent of the maps presented in Figure 4.7), human and boto spaces overlap approximately 70% during low-water periods and 77% during high-water periods. Some spaces with less frequent overlap are located within Anavilhanas National Park boundaries. However, while the 2-km buffer serves to represent likely frequent human-boto overlap, it is important to recognize that the human footprint can cover the entire river. 170 (a) (b) Figure 4.7a. Overlap of projected 2-km human activity with predicted low water (optimal vegetation + sediment conditions) and high water boto niche. Pink areas are predicted areas of overlap during the low-water period; purple areas are predicted areas of overlap during the high- water period. Teal areas show spaces of predicted low-water boto niche unaffected by the 2-km human activity buffer. 4.7b. Map of predicted boto niche for comparison. Teal areas depict boto niche at low-water; purple areas depict boto niche at high-water. 171 4.4 Discussion 4.4.1 Modeling optimal boto habitat conditions The boto niche model was run for the study area in which Martin and da Silva (2004), Mintzer et al. (2016), and Yamamoto et al. (2016) conducted seasonal habitat variation and preference studies (Mamirauá Sustainable Development Reserve). Results were consistent with boto habitat preferences described in the aforementioned studies, which highlighted the importance of confluences, lakes, and floodplains adjacent to main rivers (Figure 4.8). In this region, maximum water heights reach approximately 40 m (Mintzer et al. 2016), and the model was adjusted accordingly to reflect this difference in river levels. Figure 4.8. Boto niche model run for a region of Mamirauá Sustainable Development Reserve, outside of Tefé, Amazonas. Maximum flood extent for this area was set to 40-m. Results from this model also aligned well with the schematic presented in Gomez-Salazar et al. (2012: 141), which presents higher density of botos around lake margins, confluences, and 172 margins of floodplain channels. Overall, results from this model do represent optimal boto preferences for river margins, lakes, and smaller inlets and streams. It is important to note, however, that this model is based on vegetation, sediment, and water extent data, and does not incorporate specific habitat types discussed in previous studies of boto habitat preferences. These include confluences, lakes, and floodplains adjacent to main rivers, as well as areas with diminished current, bays, and downstream ends of islands (Vidal et al. 1997; Martin, da Silva, and Salmon 2004). Unlike the delphinid species of river dolphin in this same region, Sotalia fluviatilis (known as the “tucuxi”), botos prefer shallower waters, so long as they can readily swim in them. Tucuxi, on the other hand, prefer deeper waters. Martin, da Silva, and Salmon (2004) also noted that botos seemed to avoid mud banks and flooded forest margins; these are factors that should be considered in following spatial analyses of boto habitat. 4.4.2 Seasonality of BIP activities and observed boto behavior BIP activities occur year-round, and the floating structures on which they take place are moved (if possible) according to fluctuating water levels throughout the year. Half of the BIPs surveyed (BIPs 4–6) were located within protected area boundaries; the other half (BIPs 1–3) were located outside of protected area boundaries, but near the margins of a terrestrial protected area (Table 4.3). While formal regulation of these activities did not yet exist at the time of data collection, state legislation was passed in early 2018 to regulate BIP activities (see Chapter 3). Before then, BIP activities were de jure illegal but tolerated by local government. The BIP located in Anavilhanas National Park, however, was subject to more stringent informal regulations, likely due to its location. Overall, BIP operators had more to say about the high-water season than the low-water season. For example, they reported this period to have 1) the highest visitation, 2) more 173 expensive fish than the dry season, 3) more occurrences of boto-boto aggression (particularly among males), and 4) greater disappearance of botos (into the igapós). There were some discrepancies, however, among operators in terms of highest and lowest visitation. These discrepancies could be due in part to the location of the BIPs. Operators who reported high visitation to occur during school holidays worked at the BIP in Novo Airão, which is more physically integrated into the local community. The structure itself is also much easier to access, as it has a fixed location that is anchored to land and accessible by roads. This may also help explain seasonal discrepancies in reported low-visitation periods; those who reported lowest visitation during the low-water season are not anchored to the river bank, and do not have access to roads. While BIP operators tended to attribute heightened aggression between male botos to a mating season, these reports of greater occurrences of aggression during the high-water season may also be partially explained by a preference of males for main river channels during this period (Martin and da Silva 2004). It is also possible that because fish tend to scatter more widely into the flooded forests during the high-water season, the botos spend more time at BIPs because of the predictable and steady food supply. At these sites, then, botos may fight each other over the fish provisioned by BIP operators; indeed, this is something that almost all BIP operators noted happened often. 4.4.3 Spatial and temporal fishing considerations During the low-water season, both botos and fishers move to the main river channels as previously inundated areas dry out. Although there is the expectation that occupying the same space by both stakeholders at the same time would result in heightened conflict, a slight majority of respondents (60%) reported that boto disruption of fishing activities occurred more during the 174 high-water season. In the high-water season, higher river levels, flooded forests, and inundated land areas provide increased areas for fish to inhabit, thus making fishing more difficult for fishers. All fishers agreed that the best and easiest fishing season is during the low-water period. The challenges presented to fishers during the high-water period can prove to be doubly damaging for fishers, as they may experience greater losses of income and instances of damaged fishing equipment in the same season. It is possible that the reported increase of conflict during high-water is due to an actual increase of conflict between fishers and botos. Another possible explanation is that conflict may not necessarily occur more often, but that it is perceived to occur more frequently because the consequences to fishers during this season are much greater, due to heightened difficulty in catching fish. Diel factors are also important to consider here. Previous studies suggest that botos prefer lakes as their primary habitat for active behaviors like foraging, especially at night, while they tend to rest at night in junctions (Yamamoto et al. 2016). Given that night-fishing was common among fisher respondents, this is an important factor to consider in terms of potential hotspots of conflict. If fishers and botos already share spatial habitat preferences of high fish density and low current (Martin, da Silva, and Salmon 2004), conflicts could be exacerbated temporally by both parties occupying the same spaces more actively at the same time. Moreover, fishers have reported that damage from boto interference occurs most often when a gillnet is left unattended in the water (see Chapter 2), which tends to be an overnight fishing strategy. If botos are indeed more active at night, this may contribute to increased conflict and fishing disruption. While most fishers reported to fish relatively close to their residences, some also reported to travel long distances, in part due to the illegality of fishing in a protected area. This traveling 175 might increase the range of fisher impact on boto vulnerability. At the same time, some individuals stated that they still fish in protected areas, even when it is illegal. 4.4.4 Overlapping spaces of human and boto usage While it was expected that the dry, low-water season is likely to be the time of highest conflict among all stakeholders—as this is when greatest potential spatial overlap is most likely to occur due to falling water levels—results from this study suggest that there is greater potential for conflict during the high-water period (Figure 4.7). Calculations for the spatial extent of the study showed that potential conflict areas cover 70.09% of boto niche during low water, and 77.37% during high water. The same calculations were run for the entire extent of the spatial data, which spanned an area approximately 502,900 km² centered on Manaus. Here, potential overlap was 87.11% for low water and 89.67% for high water. The difference is much smaller in this extent, but it is important to note that environmental parameters such as flood maximum varies throughout the region, thus affecting the areas predicted to be optimal boto habitat. In general, the likelihood of increased conflict during the high-water period is supported by both fisher and BIP respondents in this study. Seasonal sexual segregation of botos may bias which groups of botos are most vulnerable to fishing and tourism activities at different times of the year. Given that males have been shown to prefer main river channels more than females (particularly during the rising water and high- water periods), and females tend to spend more time in the flooded forests during the high-water season, fishing activities are likely to impact females and their calves more during the high-water period, and BIP activities to males during this same period. 176 4.4.5 Limitations The parameters for habitat modeling were taken from studies conducted primarily in another river system—the Rio Solimões (Amazon River)—which is less acidic, more turbid, and cooler in temperature than the Rio Negro. It is assumed that habitat preferences for the boto are the same across river systems, but habitat preferences and seasonal movement studies should be conducted in the Rio Negro system as well in order to verify whether such preferences are indeed consistent. Obviously, the conditions of the Solimões differ significantly from the Negro (higher sediment load, greater water current speeds, higher species richness), and these differences may have significant impacts on the accuracy of habitat modeling. Moreover, the habitat model could be more robust with the incorporation of data such as the flow rate of the Rio Negro and its associated tributaries, as well as bathymetric data. Certain habitats should be weighted more heavily than others as favorable; for example, lakes and confluences should have greater influence than mud banks. In-depth participatory mapping with fishers should also be explored in future studies, in order to gain better insight into the specific localities of fishing activity. With this information, we would be able to better understand the spatial relations between actual fishing activities (rather than only fishing residences and communities) and boto habitat. Similarly, more targeted questions can be asked of both BIP operators and fishers regarding the seasonality and temporal factors of their observations and experiences. Lastly, it is possible that emphasis on high-water phenomena was due in part to the fact that the surveys and interviews were conducted during a high-water period, thus the events happening in real-time may have overshadowed experiences from other seasons. Moving 177 forward, it will be important to conduct studies in different seasons to corroborate findings from this study. 4.5 Conclusions This chapter has outlined some of the ways in which BIP operators and fishers utilize spaces along the Rio Negro throughout the year, with a focus on areas that have potential to overlap with optimal boto habitat. Seasonally, this study suggests that the high-water period is more conducive to conflict between humans and botos (and, thus, heightened boto vulnerability), which could be an important consideration in trying to mitigate anthropogenic harm to botos. Spatially, human and boto usage of space has significant overlap throughout the year, given the nature of tourism and fishing activities relying on the availability of botos and fish, respectively. Decadal trends have shown a steady boto population decline, indicating more than ever that boto conservation is urgent (da Silva et al. 2018). Understanding the ways in which humans utilize the same spaces as botos, and to what extent, can help researchers, policymakers, natural resource managers, and the general public better understand the ways we can mitigate boto vulnerability to anthropogenic activities. 178 REFERENCES 179 REFERENCES Alves, L. C. P. D. S., C. A. Zappes, and A. Andriolo. 2012. 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Williams, R., A. W. Trites, and D. E. Bain. 2002. Behavioural responses of killer whales (Orcinus orca) to whale-watching boats: opportunistic observations and experimental approaches. Journal of Zoology 256 (2):255–270. Wursig, B. 1996. Swim-with-dolphin activities in nature: Weighing the pros and cons. Whalewatcher 30 (1):11–15. Yamamoto, Y., T. Akamatsu, V. M. F. da Silva, and S. Kohshima. 2016. Local habitat use by botos (Amazon river dolphins, Inia geoffrensis) using passive acoustic methods. Marine Mammal Science 32 (1):220–240. 183 CHAPTER 5: CONCLUDING REMARKS 184 5.1 Summary of Findings Since at least the early 2000s, concern has been mounting over the potential decline in Amazon river dolphin populations throughout the Amazon. Recently, scholars confirmed that populations of both species of Amazonian freshwater dolphins have been experiencing continual declines over the past two decades (da Silva et al. 2018). One of those species, the Amazon river dolphin (Inia geoffrensis), was the focus of this dissertation, which sought to broaden our understanding of anthropogenic influences on boto vulnerability, defined as the boto’s exposure to health, ecological, and behavioral risks based on human-boto interactions and societal components (e.g., protection laws and public perception). Very few studies pertaining to the boto have focused on such factors and those that do often concentrate primarily on the direct killing of botos by fishers because of competition for resources or for use as bait in the piracatinga industry. Even fewer studies exist pertaining to boto tourism and the potential impacts of the up- close interactions and feeding activities that take place at BIPs. At the time of this research, no study existed that considered both fishers and BIP operators to assess how they might interact or influence one another, and ultimately impact local boto populations. Taking fishing and tourism together as industries that have direct contact with botos, particularly in the context of fishers who reside near BIP operations, this dissertation was a new inquiry into understanding the socioeconomic, institutional, and spatiotemporal relations and interrelations among local artisanal fishers, BIP operators, government, community leaders, and the botos themselves. Organized in a three-paper format, this dissertation explored these relations through four primary research questions: (1) What is the role of economics in boto vulnerability? Specifically, what are the roles of local fishers and the boto tourism industry? 185 (2) What is the disconnect, if any, between de jure policies regulating fishing and human- boto interactions, and the de facto practices of fishers and BIP operators? (3) What is the role of culture in boto vulnerability? How do botos, fishers, and tourism operators territorialize spaces in the study region, and in what ways do they overlap spatiotemporally? How might this affect boto vulnerability? These questions were subdivided into chapters focusing on the socioeconomic considerations of fishing and BIP tourism (Chapter 2), legislation and culture (Chapter 3), and spatial and temporal territorialities of botos, fishers, and BIP tourism (Chapter 4). Demographic and operational details of both fishers and BIP operators and their respective activities are presented in Chapter 2, which explored research question 1. In this chapter, results showed that fishers have much to lose financially if botos interfere with their fishing activities. Their nets are a crucial and expensive component of their livelihoods, and the destruction of their fishing gear could result in a net loss of monthly income. However, fishers also discussed the ways in which they have learned over time to try to avoid losing their equipment; for example, they learned not to leave gillnets unattended in the water, as botos seem to have an uncanny ability to find and destroy them. This suggests that there are additional ways to circumvent negative interactions for the benefit of both fishers and botos, thus decreasing boto vulnerability. The potential for BIP activities to impact boto populations is high. Not only are BIP operators using fish to attract botos to their platforms, but some also use fish to separate and distract botos when they act aggressively toward each other. Operators may be inadvertently conditioning botos to behave this way while reinforcing the knowledge that food is easily available at these sites. Moreover, botos have been known to visit multiple flutuantes and could be consuming well above the allowable limit suggested by researchers at INPA. 186 Despite these potential ecological impacts, BIPs may be able to decrease boto vulnerability by educating the public about the importance of the species. Both BIP operators and fishers described changes observed in their own communities over time, where people are beginning to hold a more favorable view of the boto. Chapter 3 addressed research questions 2 and 3 by identifying a set of legislation and regulations for fishers and BIP operators; assessing stakeholder understanding of these policies and real-world practices through surveys, interviews, and direct observation; and exploring the disconnects between policies and practice by comparing legislation with understanding and practice. Building on data from Chapter 2, Chapter 3 sought to understand whether this disconnect exists, why it exists, and what could be done to close the gap. Findings suggest that disconnect does indeed exist among both fishers and BIP operators, and even within government enforcement agencies. Based on the information provided by fishers in this study, it would appear that illegal fishing activity could happen for one of three reasons: 1) fishers may feel obligated to fish illegally out of necessity, if fishing conditions are poor and they have no viable alternatives; 2) fishers may act in retaliation against what they perceive to be laws that infringe upon their natural rights; or 3) legislation can change so quickly, or contradict other existing legislation, that fishers are caught unaware of the fact that they have actually committed a crime. With BIP operators, there were a number of disconnects between informal regulations, what they stated to be their understanding of those regulations, and how they actually carried out their activities. In some cases, operators did not vocalize understanding of specific regulations (e.g., the recommended method of attracting botos), but direct observations demonstrated that operators performed the activity to the standards of those regulations. However, in most cases where operators demonstrated understanding and awareness of a given regulation, what they 187 actually practiced did not align with that regulation. For some rules (e.g., keeping crowds quiet, not touching botos intentionally), this is likely due to the difficulty in handling large groups of tourists. In other cases, regulations ignored may be due to poor management decisions, or problems within the tourism industry itself (e.g., tour guides, rather than BIP operators, giving instructional lectures to tourists). From the enforcement and governance standpoint, challenges arise from a lack of financial, human, and temporal resources available to enforcement agencies. Partnerships with seemingly unlikely collaborators, ribeirinhos, actually help mitigate some of the difficulties in enforcing regulations. This suggests that those involved in decision-making and enforcement are indeed interested in working with—rather than against, as they are sometimes perceived to be— stakeholder groups like fishers and BIP operators. With regards to culture, the vast majority of fishers and BIP operators know of the legend of the boto but do not believe in the stories. Regardless of their beliefs, participants talked a lot about the need to respect botos and other wildlife, and that while belief in the legends still colors some people’s views of the boto negatively, those who live alongside the boto learn that the animal is not a threat and should not be maligned or demonized for being who he is. BIP operators in particular seemed to form special connections with the botos who visit their platforms, giving names to many of the regulars and choosing favorites based on their personalities. It appears that the degradation of these cultural beliefs through tourism and increased contact with botos may actually support a stronger conservation ethic. Chapter 4 sought to answer research question 4 by understanding how botos, fishers, and BIP operators utilize their respective spaces throughout the year, and how these spaces overlap. In this chapter, I presented a boto niche model that was created using a combination of remotely- 188 sensed data and spatiotemporal information gathered through surveys and interviews with BIP operators and fishers. Results from this model were consistent with boto habitat preferences described in previous habitat studies (Martin and da Silva 2004; Mintzer et al. 2016; Yamamoto et al. 2016), and represent optimal boto habitat preferences for river margins, lakes, and smaller inlets and streams. Findings in Chapter 4 suggest that the high-water period presents greater potential for conflict among all stakeholders, given that BIPs have the highest visitation during this time, fish are more difficult to find and catch, boto-boto aggression is allegedly highest, and fishers report more conflict with botos during this period. The challenges presented to fishers during the high- water period can prove to be doubly damaging for fishers, as they may experience greater losses of income and instances of damaged fishing equipment in the same season. There may also be differences in boto vulnerability by gender throughout the year, as males have been shown to prefer main river channels more than females, especially during rising water and high-water periods. During these times, BIP activities may be more likely to impact males, while fishing activities are more likely to impact females and calves during this same period, as females prefer to spend time in the flooded forests during high-water periods. 5.2 Significance and Implications of the Work Building on one another, each of the three chapters presented a new and in-depth view of fishing and boto tourism at a local scale by first presenting fishers and BIP operators and the financial context of their economic livelihoods (Chapter 2). From there, Chapter 3 explored the legality of fishing and BIP tourism and cultural perceptions of the boto in order to understand why a disconnect between policy and practice exists and how culture plays a role in boto vulnerability and conservation. Finally, building on data collected for Chapters 2 and 3, Chapter 189 4 presented a model to evaluate boto habitat in the region and identify likely areas of overlap with fishers and BIP activities. Understanding the economic challenges faced by many participants was important in disentangling the reasons why policies may be ineffective. Furthermore, understanding spatial and temporal movements of the three main stakeholder groups is important in elucidating potential hotspots of conflict across seasons. This is particularly important given that legislation changes are ongoing, and these changes are based primarily on research that has not focused on the social dimensions of human-boto conflict, due in part to a lack of research on this topic. This study advances our understanding of the complex socioeconomic, spatiotemporal, and institutional interrelations among local fishers, BIP tourism operators, government, and the Amazon river dolphin in the central Brazilian Amazon through the production of new knowledge on the social dimensions of human-boto conflict. It incorporates non-human animals as equal agents with spaces of their own. Combining qualitative and spatial methodologies with social, spatial, and ecological data, the study is unique in its mixed-method approach to address issues in boto conservation, which is in itself a small but growing field. Previous studies focused primarily on one or another stakeholder; this research brings together four distinct groups of people—fishers, tourism operators, government and community leaders, and botos—to illuminate the ways in which these groups interact and impact one another. This dissertation also contributes to the larger discussion of wildlife policy by using a local-scale example of why seemingly robust policies designed to protect species either fail or are ineffective, and how partnerships between local residents and communities with government agencies are crucial in enforcing larger-scale environmental crimes. This is particularly important for a region like the Brazilian Amazon that not only spans millions of square 190 kilometers, but has an extremely complex network of rivers, tributaries, streams, and forests that make navigation and environmental monitoring very difficult. It also highlights the impact government funding has on non-priority issues, and the consequences of lacking human and financial resources to combat and prevent environmental crimes. It is also important to note that legislation regulating BIP tourism was passed in early 2018 (SEMA Resolução/CEMAAM n° 28, de 22 de janeiro de 2018). This regulation includes and builds on the informal policies put in place by IBAMA, ICMBio, and INPA that were discussed in Chapter 3, and stipulates that tourism facilitators (BIP operators) be professionally qualified and trained. This training began shortly after the state resolution was passed, and targeted BIP operators as well as other hospitality businesses that have connections with BIP tourism. Looking into the future, work from this dissertation will provide a detailed “before” look into BIP and fishing activities prior to the new law, and can serve as a comparison for future studies that focus on the policy’s efficacy. Having the understanding of which regulations were not followed or understood can help identify and target parts of the policy that may require revision. Moreover, it will be useful to see whether the recent reclassification of botos as “endangered” by the IUCN (da Silva et al. 2018) impacts the efficacy of legislation and enforcement. With regards to boto tourism specifically, this project expands existing knowledge which has thus far been produced in English literature only scantly. Further, the habitat model presented in Chapter 4 provides a tool with which researchers can use to identify potential hotspots for conflict and spatial overlap. This may prove to be particularly useful in a region like the Amazon, where the complex natural environment creates challenges for on-the-ground research. 191 The core findings from the study have implications for conflict mitigation, implementation of effective policies, and the socioecological wellbeing of key stakeholder groups. First, the research suggests that availability of resources is more of a driving force of conflict than the interactions between stakeholders themselves. For example, even though all groups share the same spaces during the low-water season, conflict was less emphasized by fishers because there were more fish resources available. If conflict is heightened in times of resource scarcity, we can expect that this holds true for individuals who are having difficulty sustaining themselves and their families. Providing viable solutions or alternatives is crucial in the implementation of policies that restrict one’s ability to provide for oneself. In Chapter 3, we see that conservation only works if people understand the rules. It is important to recognize that rulebreakers may not be doing so out of a lack of care or from a place of malice; rather, it could very well be due to misunderstandings, misperceptions, or a lack of awareness of the policies put in place to protect wildlife and resources. Educational awareness programs may be key in ensuring local residents are aware of local policies and the important reasons those policies have been put in place. With regards to tourism activities, providing training for BIP operators in how to handle and manage boto interactions, as well as what should be included in their informational lectures, would help ensure that activities are standardized across all BIP operations. Moreover, if tour guides are going to be giving the lectures in place of BIP operators, they should also receive training in order to minimize the likelihood that they deliver incorrect or incomplete information. One unexpected finding that may have implications for mitigating conflict between fishers and botos is the apparent fact that both parties may have a slight preference for night- fishing. If this is true, strategies could be implemented to reduce interactions between botos and 192 fishers at night, in tandem with a spatial model that could suggest alternative areas for fishing, depending on season and spaces of overlap. 5.3 Limitations and Future Research There are several limitations to this study. Sample size was very small, and it must be assumed that not all the data collected from this sample is representative of the complete population, particularly in the case of sensitive topics like illegal activity. Similarly, given the sensitive nature of some of the questions asked of individuals, participants may have felt more comfortable discussing these matters in a group setting, where they are not the sole focus of a team of researchers. Focus groups, group surveys, and community-engaged research with larger numbers of participants should be considered for future studies in this area. With a larger sample size, statistical analyses could also be conducted to gain a better sense of how the actors in this story interact with one another. This study initially included a participatory mapping component, which was eventually abandoned due to difficulties in using aerial imagery to accurately convey location information with participants. Future research should include an in-depth participatory mapping project, as this could provide greater accuracy for modeling the potential spatial overlap between fishers and botos. As well, a separate project should be conducted that focuses only on the spatial distribution of subsistence fishing activity, pathways, and hot spots, in order to more accurately gauge overlap with other human and non-human uses. The habitat model presented in Chapter 4 is based primarily on vegetation, sediment, elevation, and water extent data, and does not incorporate specific habitat types discussed in previous studies of boto habitat preferences. For a more robust model, habitat types such as 193 confluences, lakes, bays, and areas with diminished current should be incorporated into the model, as well as additional spatial information like bathymetry. Trust was likely an issue for participants in this study. As a foreigner whose native language is not Brazilian Portuguese, participants had no reason to trust that I was well- intentioned in approaching them with the questions I asked. At times, there were communication difficulties between myself and the participants as well, though a research assistant was always there to assist with translations when necessary. However, this barrier in free-flowing conversation likely altered the quality and content of responses. With regards to BIPs, now that boto feeding tourism is officially regulated, future research should involve assessing how, if at all, formal regulations are impacting BIP operators and the botos. It would be beneficial to see whether the disconnects between policy and practice continue to occur with formal regulations in place. Similarly, long-term studies should be conducted with visitors to gauge whether BIP activities have the purported impact of changing people’s minds and hearts towards conservation. 194 APPENDICES 195 APPENDIX A Interview Guide (English) 196 Interview Guide: Fishers, BIP Operators, and Community Leaders Topic: Specifics about work that might influence relations with botos Possible questions: 1. How did you become a fisher/BIP operator? a. What would you say is the most difficult part of your job? b. What would you say is the most rewarding part of your job? c. If you could change anything about your job, what would it be? 2. Have your interactions with botos increased, decreased, or stayed the same since you first began to fish in this area? 3. What do you think fishing/BIP tourism will look like 10 years from now? Topic: Thoughts about legislation, regulation, government, and agency Possible questions: 1. Are you familiar with any of Brazil’s environmental laws? If so, can you describe these to me? [probe for fishing-specific, wildlife interaction-specific, and BIP-specific laws] 2. How do you feel about these laws? 3. What is your understanding of how these laws are enforced? 4. Have you experienced, or know of anyone who has experienced, enforcement of these laws? 5. Are you familiar with the fishing moratorium? If so, how do you feel about it? [probe for responses related to piracatinga specifically, and the use of botos as bait] 6. Imagine that you’re in a position to create, change, or remove laws and regulations concerning your activity. What would you do? 7. If you could talk with the people in charge of making and enforcing these laws, what would you say to them? Topic: Changing perceptions about the boto and how this influences/is influenced by culture Possible questions: 1. Do you know about the different Amazonian legends? If so, can you tell me about these legends? [probe for how they learned about them, and focus on legend of the boto] 2. Do you think wildlife should be protected? 3. In general, how do people in your community feel about the boto? a. Why do people feel this way? 4. What are some things you like and dislike about the boto? 5. What do you think the general public in Amazonas thinks about the boto? 197 Interview Guide: Enforcement Agents and Government Representatives Topic: Regulation and enforcement of fishing and BIPs Possible questions: 1. How did you come to be interested in this job? a. What would you say is the most difficult part of your job? b. What would you say is the most rewarding part of your job? 2. What are the laws and regulations for subsistence fishers in this area? 3. What are the laws and regulations for BIPs in this area? 4. How are these laws enforced? a. What, if any, difficulties do you encounter in enforcing these laws? b. If you encounter difficulties, what would make your job easier? 5. What do you think fishers and BIP operators think about these laws, and the enforcement of them? 6. Do you interact with individuals in these communities? a. On a regular basis? b. If you do not interact with them, what, if anything, would you like to say to individuals if you had a chance to speak with them? c. If you do interact with them, what are some key things you have learned from these interactions? d. What would you like individuals to gain from their interactions with you? 7. If you could change anything about your job, what would it be? 198 APPENDIX B Interview Guide (Portuguese) 199 Guia para a entrevista: Pescadores, Operadores e Líderes Comunitários Tópico: Especificidades sobre o trabalho que podem influenciar na relação com os botos Possíveis perguntas: 4. Como você se tornou um pescador ou operador de turismo com botos? a. Qual o aspecto mais difícil em seu trabalho? b. Qual a parte mais gratificante em seu trabalho? c. Se você pudesse mudar algo em seu trabalho, o que mudaria? 5. A sua interação com os botos aumentou, diminuiu ou permaneceu igual desde a primeira vez em que pescou nessa área? 6. Como você imagina que a pescaria ou turismo com botos será em 10 anos? Tópico: Compreensão sobre legislação, regulamentação, governança e agenciamento Possíveis questões: 8. Você tem conhecimento sobre alguma lei brasileira que trata das questões ambientais? Se sim, pode descrever alguma para mim? [mais especificamente com relação à pesca, interação com animais selvagens ou de turismo com botos] 9. Como se sente em relação a estas leis? 10. Qual o seu entendimento sobre como estas leis são impostas? 11. Você já experimentou uma situação de imposição destas leis ou conhece alguém que tenha vivido isso? 12. Tem conhecimento sobre monitoramento pesqueiro? Se sim, qual sua opinião sobre isso? [com relação ao uso da piracatinga, especificamente na questão que envolve o uso de boto como isca] 13. Se você pudesse criar, mudar ou excluir leis associadas a sua atividade, o que faria? 14. Se pudesse falar com pessoas que são responsáveis pela criação e imposição destas leis, o que diria a eles? Tópico: Mudanças de percepção sobre o boto e como isso influencia e é influenciado pela cultura Possíveis questões: 6. Você conhece as diferentes lendas amazônicas? Se sim, pode me contar sobre alguma delas? [como aprenderam sobre elas, com foco na lenda sobre o boto] 7. Você acha que as espécies selvagens deveriam ser protegidas? 8. O que sua comunidade pensa sobre o boto? a. Por que as pessoas se sentem desta forma? 9. Quais são os aspectos que vocês gostam e os que não gostam em relação aos botos? 10. O que você acha que o público geral no Amazonas pensa sobre o boto? 200 Guia para entrevista: Imposição de agentes e representantes governamentais Tópico: Regulamentação e imposição para pesca e BIPs Possíveis questões: 8. Como surgiu seu interesse por este trabalho? a. Qual o aspecto mais difícil de seu trabalho? b. Qual a parte mais gratificante em seu trabalho? 9. Quais são as leis e regulamentações para a pescaria de subsistência nesta área? 10. Quais são as leis e regulamentações para turismo com botos nesta área? 11. De que forma as leis são impostas? a. Quais seriam as dificuldades, se houver alguma, que você encontra na imposição destas leis? b. Caso encontre dificuldades, o que tornaria seu trabalho mais fácil? 12. O que você acha que os Pescadores e operadores de turismo com boto pensam sobre estas leis e a imposição delas? 13. Você interage com indivíduos nestas comunidades? a. Regularmente? b. Caso não interaja com eles, o que gostaria de dizer, individualmente, se tivesse a chance de falar com eles? c. Caso costume interagir com eles, quais são os aspectos importantes que lembre ter aprendido por conta destas interações? d. O que gostaria que as pessoas ganhassem com as interações com você? 14. Se pudesse mudar algo em relação ao seu trabalho, o que seria? 201 APPENDIX C Survey Instrument for Fishers (English) 202 203 204 205 206 207 208 209 210 211 212 APPENDIX D Survey Instrument for Fishers (Portuguese) 213 214 215 216 217 218 219 220 221 222 223 APPENDIX E Survey Instrument for BIP Operators (English) 224 225 226 227 228 229 230 231 232 233 234 235 236 APPENDIX F Survey Instrument for BIP Operators (Portuguese) 237 238 239 240 241 242 243 244 245 246 247 248 249 APPENDIX G Fishing Calendar Instrument (Portuguese) 250 251 252 REFERENCES 253 REFERENCES da Silva, V., F. Trujillo, A. Martin, A. N. Zerbini, E. Crespo, E. Aliaga-Rossel, and R. Reeves. 2018b. Inia geoffrensis. The IUCN Red List of Threatened Species, https://www.iucnredlist.org/species/10831/50358152 (last accessed 20 July 2019). 254