Having flown by a light plane into a clearing in the forest we travelled by motorised dug out canoe to Angel Falls sleeping beside the river in hammocks. On one occasion we were fortunate to stop at a small village where we were made incredibly welcome. Obviously, the creature comforts were limited; I avoided the “toilet”, a wooden plank with a circle cut in it placed over a hole, where a bat had decided make its home! A spade and the lonely forest were marginally more preferable.

The picture was taken at dawn. I was the first to fall out of my hammock with steam rising from the forest and a cacophony of bird sound. The place was deserted, or so I thought. After wandering about in an early morning daze I arrived outside a hut just inside the perimeter of the village. I then noticed a movement in the forest and without a sound the villagers filed past me, one by one, in a line into the hut and closed the entrance. It was like a surreal dream. Then the hairs rose on the back of my neck as they started to sing. I have rarely heard such a wonderful sound and never expected it to be in the middle of a forest.