EVEN IN BROAD DAYLIGHT, THE JUNGLE CAN feel like an unfathomable place. But spending the night in the thick of a forest can awaken our most primal fears. As your surroundings darken, the chorus of cicadas rises to a near-deafening buzz. A dull thud on the roof of your hut could be a tree branch, or a nocturnal animal landing from above. And, in habitats stalked by big cats, a rustling sound outside the door at midnight is better left uninvestigated.
A humbling realisation dawns: human rules don’t apply here. In Southeast Asia’s jungles, where sun bears tear at tree bark and tapirs mark their territory, people seem like feeble specimens. Against the Amazon basin’s 400-plus mammal species, we represent a mere speck within teeming, interlaced ecosystems.
As the hours pass during a night in the jungle, nature encroaches ever closer: ants march without rest along the window frame, or a pair of beady eyes outside catch the light. When a thunderstorm builds to its ear-splitting crescendo, it becomes clear you’re at the mercy of nature’s powers.