BOA VISTA, Roraima — “For those who live off the river, water isn’t just scenery: It is also a road, work and income.” That is how tour guide Fredson Guedes, known as “Tarzan,” learned to view the natural world around him over the course of his 55 years. “I work entirely with nature and depend heavily on it. Just the other day, I was at Serra Grande [an ecotourism destination in the municipality of Cantá, Roraima], working at the Véu de Noiva [bridal veil, in Portuguese] waterfall, but now there is no waterfall anymore. It dried up.” In the Amazonian region of Serra Grande in Brazil, about 50 kilometers (31 miles) from the state capital, Boa Vista, the seasonal waterfall known as Véu de Noiva usually draws visitors from May through early September during Roraima’s rainy season. That changed in 2026. By late July, the water that defines the landscape had already vanished. Fábio Wankler, a geologist and professor at the Federal University of Roraima (UFRR), points to a “super El Niño” as the driver behind the disruption. The phenomenon, unusually intense this year, has triggered a series of shifts in weather patterns that, across various parts of the country, “have caused longer and more intense periods of drought,” he said. The effects are felt daily. The waterfall, whose cascading flows resemble the delicate lace of a wedding gown, sits along one of the primary routes traveled by Guedes, who navigates the Branco River to reach it at least twice…This article was originally published on Mongabay

Adriana Hora dos Santos stands waist-deep in the water. Her dark hair is tied in a single braid; her arms and torso covered by a pink Lycra shirt. The thick mangrove mud reaches her thighs. Using a machete just over 40-centimeters (16-inches) long, she pries dozens of oysters from the twisted roots with a steady cadence: Not too fast, not too slow. Across the Vaza-Barris river, the buildings of Sergipe’s state capital Aracaju seem otherworldly. Here, one hears the lapping of the water, the strike of the blade and Santos’s voice: “I am, I am a shellfish gatherer / Queen of the mangrove, I am a warrior! / I am, I am a shellfish gatherer / A fighting woman, a striver / It’s the wind that gives it to me / It’s the river, it’s the mangrove, it’s the sea / My chest aches, enclosed river / My chest aches with no fish caught / Come, woman, fight, emancipate yourself / We are Sergipe’s shellfish gatherers!” This is the anthem of the Movement of Women Shellfish Gatherers of Sergipe (MMS), a grassroots collective that has resisted continuous environmental degradation and cultural erasure for decades. Acting as guardians of the mangrove, they do environmental protection work while facing pressures that put their own survival at risk. To hear one of these women is to hear many: Their verbs almost always come in the plural. “We are always in a flock,” Santos says. And it was as a flock that they introduced…This article was originally published on Mongabay