As I sat on the bow of my dugout canoe, with my feet skimming the murky water, the trees either side of the river were alive with the sounds of the jungle. The call of more than a thousand birds, the screech of the capuchin monkeys, the buzzing, humming of more insects than I care to count vibrated through me, the white clouds scudding across the blue sky. It was a joyous soundtrack to a place that offered so many hidden treasures; medicines, species of wildlife all yet to be discovered, but I also knew that within those luscious green vines and blades of grass, beneath the dark canopy that towered above there was always danger: snakes, spiders and the poison dart frog.

The tour guide tied up our canoe and the rest of my group clambered onto dry land. We were then led by Paulo into the heart of the jungle, the warm wet leaves brushing against our legs. As we went in search of a waterfall colourful birds darted from tree to tree like rainbows amongst the green. Suddenly, a loud rustle interrupted the now familiar jungle echoes and I saw something large and intimidating move amongst the shadows. In between the leaves bright eyes were staring right at us.

My heart raced painfully as the jaguar stepped into the clearing. The sun beat down, revealing his glorious markings. With trepidation, we backed slowly away. This beautiful beast had the power to kill us within seconds.

Cautiously we made our way back to the safety of the canoe. Our guide told us that we had gone too far and disturbed this sacred world. The waterfall was a secret that would have to be kept by the jungle. We were lucky to be alive.