Legend has it that the Santiago River used to swallow the canoes of anyone daring enough to explore it. However, an indigenous community is now uncovering surprising species in its waters.
We stepped into a wooden canoe bobbing on the murky surface of the Santiago River, ready to visit one of the Amazon region's least-known ecosystems. Until recently, scientists were unsure which fish inhabited this part of the river, as it had never been studied. After a two-day journey by bus and truck from Quito, Ecuador's capital, photographer Karen Toro and I were finally close to our destination: Kaputna, an indigenous community that has discovered new fish species here.
Kaputna is a settlement on the banks of the Santiago River, home to 145 inhabitants who are members of the Shuar, one of the 11 indigenous nations living in the Ecuadorian Amazon. Although Ecuador is considered a hotspot for freshwater fish, scientists warned in 2021 that the lack of data on its fish populations was "staggering," highlighting the urgent need for more research.
A group of Kaputna residents has helped fill this gap by discovering a wealth of hidden fish swimming through the river, camouflaged in shades of brown and silver and using specially adapted mouths to feed off the submerged rocks. Thanks to monitoring efforts carried out between 2021 and 2022, which combined traditional and scientific knowledge, the indigenous community managed to identify 144 fish species in Santiago's waters. Five of these species are known from other countries but had never been found in Ecuador before. One species is still being studied and could be entirely new to science, according to the participating biologists. Kaputna fishermen, such as Germán Narankas, are listed as co-authors of the scientific publication that details these findings.
"Their knowledge of the territory is essential for discovering new species," says Jonathan Valdiviezo, a biologist who supported the analysis of the samples. Fernando Anaguano, the main author of the study and a biologist with the Wildlife Conservation Society (WCS) who accompanied Kaputna throughout the process, believes this study marks a significant shift in how scientists collaborate with and acknowledge local contributors. "This recognition of the work of local people is not usually seen in scientific publications," he notes.
The Santiago River in the Ecuadorian Amazon region went largely unstudied due, in part, to its remoteness and danger.
**A "Canoe-Swallowing" River**
Local legends say that in the days before motorboats, people who rowed down the lower part of the Santiago River would disappear; a hole was said to "swallow" the canoes, and strangers never made it to the community. This is where the name Kaputna, meaning "area where the river is fast-flowing," originates, according to locals.
To get there, we endured a 10-hour drive from Quito to Tiwintza, an Amazonian town on the border with Peru, where we stayed overnight. In the morning, Germán Narankas, a Kaputna fisherman, was waiting for us at the Tiwintza bus terminal, waving and smiling. He was easy to spot among the crowd due to the fishing net he carried on his back. "Today is going to be hell. It hasn't rained in three days," he warned us, rolling down his sleeves to avoid sunburn. By 9:00 AM, the temperature was already 95°F (35°C).
After buying food, gasoline for his canoe's motor, and water for our stay in Kaputna— which has neither shops nor roads—we rented a truck and set off on a 40-minute journey to the port of Peñas on the Santiago River. There, Narankas' tethered canoe waited for us, swaying slightly with the river's strong current. Canoes equipped with gasoline-powered engines, known as peque-peques, are the only means of transportation to reach Kaputna, making the Santiago River its sole connection to other towns.
The murky water obscured the riverbed, as if guarding the life hidden below. In calmer sections, we relaxed and enjoyed the lush surroundings, but in rougher areas, the water became choppy, rocking the canoe and reminding us of the legend of the disappearing boats. As we navigated around fallen logs, we eventually arrived at Kaputna's entrance. The settlement was well-hidden in the jungle, but the children led us to a communal shelter with a zinc roof, where we pitched our tents.
"Let's go sailing on the river before it gets too late," Narankas suggested as soon as we had set up camp. We set off again, this time into the more remote stretches of the river, where he and his community made the discoveries that changed their lives.
Narankas knows the Santiago River like the back of his hand. Even before participating in the scientific monitoring project, he was familiar with the different fish species residing in its waters.