Seca: The death of a river

SANTAREM, NOVEMBER 2024: In the heart of the Amazon floodplain near Santarém, Pará, the rivers are filled with death.

The fetid, nearly unbearable smell intensifies with each step. The relentless swarm of flies heralds an unprecedented scene in this part of the Brazilian Amazon, known as the Amazon River floodplain.

A disaster unfolding

On the 11th of last month, fishermen from the Igarapé do Costa community—the same name as one of the region's watercourses, located very close to the riverine homes—began noticing a fish die-off that took on alarming proportions over the ensuing days.

Initially, the more fragile fish species like silver croaker, cujuba, and bacuzinho perished. Later, fish with high commercial value and popular consumption in the region, such as surubim, succumbed. Finally, the most robust and resilient animals, like pirapitinga and the giant pirarucu—a symbol of sustainable management in the Amazon—died.

The die-off later extended to other animals, such as alligators, turtles, and rays. Turtles agonizing in lifeless water had to be rescued and moved to puddles still resilient against the unforgiving heat and lack of rainfall. For several consecutive days, community members carried out this transfer.

Devastating impact

The disaster impacting aquatic life in communities along the margins of the Amazon River claimed between 15 and 20 tons of fish just in the Igarapé do Costa area, according to estimates made by community fishermen.

Folha visited the community in November 2024 during the ongoing environmental tragedy. Extreme drought had caused the disappearance of lakes and streams connected to the Amazon and Tapajós Rivers. On the horizon, dense smoke from forest fires enveloped Santarém and other cities and communities.

In Igarapé do Costa, the lake is no longer, and the stream has become a mere trickle of water. The same has occurred with two other crucial watercourses essential for the livelihood of approximately 500 families in seven communities: the Pitomba stream and the Aramanaí channel.

A race against time

Fishermen were racing against time to catch still-living animals in the Costa stream, such as pirarucus. Days earlier, they dragged tons of dead fish and piled the organic matter at various points on the shore to set them ablaze. The carcasses remain there.

Further ahead, vultures and herons gather at the beginning of a large black-and-white patch in the water known as the Pitomba stream. The patch is formed by more tons of dead fish.

“In my 33 years of life, I have never seen anything like this,” says Erick Penna Ribeiro, president of the Costa Stream Residents' Association, who steers the canoe. He was born in the community, where he has always lived. Fishing is the main economic activity in the region.

"This is the year of death. Even our elders have never experienced anything like it," he says.

The feeling that the die-off will continue, with new waves of massive fish and other animal losses, is inevitable for those who look at the water.

Where there is water, fish are surfacing, gasping for oxygen, mainly catfish; bubbles are popping across the remaining water horizon. In a puddle resisting the drought, aruanãs are struggling in their pursuit of life.

Searching for Answers

The day after the die-off was first noticed, two biologists visited the community, according to regional leaders. One biologist came from the Semma (Municipal Environment Secretariat) of Santarém.

Fishermen say the specialists theorized the deaths were likely caused by thermal shock and advised racing to fish the surviving ones. Rain struck the heated remnants of water, potentially causing thermal shock, they explained as a possible cause.

The account prompted mixed feelings among fishermen. The Santarém region suffers from an extreme, prolonged drought exacerbated by the dry spell. Despite this, fishermen from the Costa stream and other communities began hoping it wouldn’t rain, fearing new waves of fish deaths.

“This water is rotten. If it rains, another thermal shock could kill more fish,” says Erick, although he admits to not having precise answers for what actually happened.

Contamination could be underway now, however, as the animals decompose.

“Last year, there were deaths, but not like this year. And it’s hard to predict. The drought over the last two years was unusual," Oliveira says.

When hundreds of pink river dolphins—boto cor-de-rosa, as they are commonly known—and tucuxis—a smaller species—died due to overheating in the Tefé and Coari lakes in the mid-Solimões River in Amazonas, there was significant scientific and federal government mobilization to understand and attempt to address the issue.

Local Assistance Amidst Catastrophe

Fishermen received assistance from the federal government—two minimum wages—to cope with the drought emergency, according to locals. They also receive the Bolsa Família and are registered for the defeso insurance, paid during the fish reproduction period.

“This drought was the greatest of all,” says Ednei José da Gama, 49, president of the Urucurituba council, encompassing the seven communities dependent on the streams where the fish die-off occurred.

“There have been other die-offs, but nothing of this scale. We need answers."