Woman finds 'magic' product to remove moss from her lawn in just two days
Moss, much like weeds, is infamous for taking over garden lawns, revelling in damp conditions and flourishing in the shadows. When a lawn feels spongy underfoot, it's often due to leafy green stems or fronds of moss, entwined among the grass blades; a tell-tale sign of its presence.
The problem often lies with soggy soil conditions, compacted earth, or general grass malaise – without intervention, moss and its rapidly spreading spores will repeatedly conquer your lawn. Yet, avid gardeners have cracked the code for eliminating this uninvited guest and preventing its pesky return.
Fed up with a recurring moss invasion, Mandy Brown-Callis sought advice from fellow green-fingered enthusiasts on the Gardening Hints and Tips Facebook group, pleading: "Hi, any of you lovely people have any tips on how to rid my lawn of Moss?"
Her lawn, increasingly claimed by moss, propelled her to plead: "I have the same problem year in and year out. My lawn now seems to be being taken over by the stuff. Most grateful for any hints or tips. Thank you."
While solutions like scarifying and aerating cropped up, one member, Lasma Styles, stood by iron sulphate as the remedy of choice, professing: "Iron sulphate is used to green and toughen up grass as well as to kill off moss."
Countering commercial moss killers, she swears by its effectiveness proclaiming: "No need to bother with fancy moss killers, this works like magic in two days, and the moss has died."
With confidence, she assures that once dead, the moss can be easily removed, leaving behind an enviable, green turf: "Then you can scrape the blackened moss out and enjoy your green greener grass."
However, Lasma has warned gardeners to dilute iron sulphate "correctly and not overdo it" as an excess can be detrimental, reports the Express.
She further commented: "Apparently iron sulphate cannot be sold legally as herbicide, but really is the simplest and cheapest way to do it."
Garden enthusiasts have a selection of iron sulphate brands to choose from, including the Pro-Kleen 2.5 kg Premium Iron Sulphate available on Amazon for £15.95.
In the reviews, customers express satisfaction with the results on their lawns after using this product, noting its effectiveness, value for money, and ease of use.
They highlight its solubility, stating it dissolves well in water, and commend the fertiliser for being user-friendly and enhancing the greenness of the grass.
The only gripe some customers have is that the container's contents weighed in at less than the advertised 2.5kg.
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9 hours ago
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Review: Levoit Pedestal Air Circulator Fan is the quiet solution to summer heat
Review: Levoit Pedestal Air Circulator Fan is the quiet solution to summer heat It's whisper quiet thanks to a brushless DC motor operating at 20dB, which is quieter than the sound of falling leaves! Levoit Pedestal Air Circulator Fan You might have noticed but it's been roasting hot recently, and the summer has only just started. When the heat is on, you are sure to see shoppers flock to the supermarkets to pick up a cheap, rickety fan. However, it might well pay off to be a little more discerning before shelling out on something that will keep you cool as the mercury rises - but probably sounds like a small aircraft taking off while doing it. I've been able to test out the Levoit Pedestal Air Circulator Fan, an ultra-quiet, energy-saving fan that is perfect for bedrooms, nurseries and offices. Indeed, it's whisper quiet thanks to a brushless DC motor operating at 20dB, which is quieter than the sound of falling leaves! It's also flexible in the way that you can use it. You can use the full 110cm height if you want, but it can go as low as 70cm where it acts more like your traditional floor fan. Once the box is opened, there's a minimal amount of tool-free construction and it's then a case of plugging it in and you're away. Basic controls can be found on a slim panel at the front, which also displays the current speed and, when put into the Eco mode, temperature. Most of the functions are accessed via the small, circular remote - so you'd better not lose it! Luckily, it's magnetic and you pop it on the rear of the fan itself for safe keeping. This was a lovely touch. The fan delivers whole-room air circulation with wind speeds of up to 7.5m/s and a reach of 30 meters. You can toggle between 90° horizontal and 120° vertical oscillation for complete coverage, while the natural breeze function avoids harsh, direct airflow. Levoit Pedestal Air Circulator Fan You get four intelligent modes to choose from - Turbo, Advanced Sleep, Normal, and the aforementioned Eco (which automatically adjusts fan speed based on room temperature) - and 12 speed setting, so it should have everything covered. This is been our favourite fan we've tested. Not only because it so quiet, but also the ability to go up and down as well as side to side makes a big difference in keeping you and the room cool. The Levoit Pedestal Air Circulator Fan is available for £119.99 via Amazon. What users say "Very surprised at the power of this fan! If you want a light breeze it is so quiet up to around setting 4 or 5. There are 12 speeds and my goodness it can shake the room! It almost took a picture off my wall so be mindful where it's angled. The only thing I would have preferred would've been a bit more height." "Excellent fan. Its quiet, doesn't need a large floor space, stable, nice to look at and the price is worth it. The handy remote is fantastic, plus you can keep it save on the back of the fan when not using it." Alternatives Article continues below MeacoFan Sefte 8' Rechargeable Fan Duux Whisper Flex Smart Standing Fan
The Guardian
a day ago
- The Guardian
‘We don't want contact because you are bad': loggers close in on uncontacted people in Peruvian Amazon
In 1999, Beatriz Huertas, then a young anthropologist, travelled deep into the Peruvian Amazon to investigate reports of uncontacted Indigenous peoples. Along the Las Piedras River, people in Monte Salvado, a Yine Indigenous village, described how every summer, 'aislados' – those who avoid sustained contact with outsiders – would appear across the river. 'They were coming into the fields and taking bananas,' says Huertas. Huertas followed the trail north to the Tahuamanu River, where fishers also reported sightings. Crossing into Brazil's Acre state, she collected more evidence – footprints, tools and local testimonies. Her findings, compiled in a 2001 report for the Native Federation of the Madre de Dios River and Tributaries (Fenamad), recommended protecting 2m hectares (4.95m acres) for the wide-ranging Mashco Piro people. Twenty-five years later, the Mashco Piro, the world's largest uncontacted Indigenous group, face growing threats from logging, drug trafficking and the climate crisis in the Brazil-Peru borderlands. Recent raids in Brazil highlight their struggle for territory and resources, worsened by environmental changes and criminal activity. Despite legal protection and international agreements, cooperation between Brazil and Peru remains inadequate, putting the Mashco Piro at risk. Uncontacted peoples, or 'peoples in voluntary isolation', avoid contact with modern society to protect their way of life and stay safe from violence or exploitation. They live in remote areas such as rainforests and deserts, maintaining traditional cultures free from outside influence. Governments and organisations aim to protect their rights and territories to prevent disease, cultural disruption and exploitation, safeguarding their autonomy and lands. What constitutes contact? In anthropology, 'contact' means interactions between cultural or social groups. 'Contacted' individuals have continuing relations with society. Contact can be direct, for example trade or conflict, or indirect, such as disease transmission. It involves cultural exchange and economic interactions. Colonial contact often imposed systems that disrupted Indigenous cultures. Brief or accidental interactions don't count as contact. Where are their territories? Most uncontacted peoples live in the Amazon basin, especially in Brazil and Peru, often within protected areas. Others are in the Gran Chaco, Andaman Islands, North Sentinel Island and West Papua. The Amazon basin, a vast region spanning several countries in South America, including Brazil, Peru, Colombia and Ecuador, is home to the largest number of uncontacted communities, with estimates suggesting there could be dozens of such groups living in isolation. Western Brazil and eastern Peru are known for having some of the last uncontacted groups, including some that live in voluntary isolation within protected Indigenous territories and national parks. Is it essential to protect uncontacted peoples? Some oppose protection, citing a lack of modern benefits, concerns about land use or safety issues. Advocates argue that they survive using natural resources, contact harms health and evangelisation weakens cultures. They emphasise these peoples' rights to their territories and the inability of governments to ensure their safety. Even after contact, Indigenous peoples have rights to their full traditional territories according to some national and international norms. Why is the idea controversial? Governments and NGOs work to protect uncontacted peoples' territories from logging, mining and agriculture as they threaten their survival. Demarcating protected zones reduces human activity and preserves the way of life within them. In some countries, such as Brazil, legislation requires the government to demarcate Indigenous territories in the event of identifying uncontacted peoples – a measure that often conflicts with economic interests linked to land rights and use. After Huertas's report, Peru approved 800,000 hectares (1.98m acres) for protection, bounded by a straight north-south line. But on the other side of that line, 38 logging concessions were granted over the next two years, covering 694,584 hectares (1.73m acres) – including areas used by the Mashco Piro. In 2006, Peru passed a law protecting isolated and recently contacted peoples, creating six Indigenous reserves with stronger legal standing than earlier 'territorial reserves', including Madre de Dios, says Carlos Soria, an environmental lawyer and former head of protected areas. In 2016, a government commission approved expanding the Madre de Dios reserve by 240,471 hectares (593,000 acres), as many Mashco Piro nomads lived in logging concessions. But the expansion has never been implemented and logging concessions still remain in more than 176,000 hectares (435,000 acres). This uneasy cohabitation has resulted in a long-term conflict in the wilds of Madre de Dios. Ojo Público's investigation, using Ministry of Culture data, found 81 instances of evidence of the Mashco Piro in and around the Madre de Dios reserve from 2016 to 2024, with 19 in the expansion area; four involved violent encounters. Isrrail Aquise, coordinator of Fenamad's defence of isolated peoples, says violence has changed community behaviour. 'The women are not coming out, and the old men and children who used to come out are not appearing,' he says, adding that only able-bodied Mashco Piro men and boys are seen on the riverside. 'They are protecting their vulnerable members probably because of the confrontations with loggers, whether legal or illegal.' Lucas Manchineri, president of the local Indigenous association across the border in Brazil, says the climate crisis – bringing more extreme rain and drought – also disrupts seasonal routines. Headwater creeks dry up early, forcing the Mashco Piro downstream, closer to villages. 'Wherever land isn't protected, there are miners, drug traffickers, loggers, illegal fishers and hunters and those people are pushing the Mashco Piro closer to our community,' he says. 'We are fighting to protect our uncontacted relatives, but to do that, we need to protect our territory.' To avoid confrontations, Peru's Ministry of Culture maintains 19 control posts nationally for the eight Indigenous and territorial reserves. Most staff members are local people, such as Romel Ponciano, a Yine man from Monte Salvado. But, he says, the government 'keeps cutting the budget. Each post needs six staff members because … it's a territorial reserve with isolated people. Often we have only two people on duty – or none at all.' Ponciano says the Mashco Piro population is increasing, making state presence more urgent. The exact population is unknown, but experts agree it is in the thousands. 'I've seen their numbers grow between 2000 and today. They have increased a lot. Sometimes we see 200 at a time,' he says. The Inter-American commission on human rights found that Peru has violated the rights of the Mashco Piro, Yor and Amahuaca peoples. After years of inaction, the case was referred to the Inter-American court of human rights, which in March 2025 demanded upgrades in protection for aislados in a similar case in Ecuador. Yet, supporters of extractive industries often dispute the existence of isolated peoples. In 2007, Peru's then-president, Alan García claimed: 'To stop oil, they have created the 'uncontacted' native.' Recently, Loreto's development business group launched a campaign denying the existence of isolated peoples in north-east Peru, despite clear evidence gathered by experts. For two decades, the timber industry has operated under 40-year leases in Mashco Piro territory. Now, some officials support a special zone where loggers and uncontacted people would officially coexist. 'This sets a terrible precedent that could justify opening all of the isolated people's territories for logging,' says Huertas, now a consultant for the Rainforest Foundation of Norway. Indigenous organisations in Peru's north-east successfully sued the Loreto regional government, forcing it to revoke 72 logging concessions in areas designated for isolated communities. If legal timber operations are allowed in uncontacted lands, Huertas fears such suits would fail, exposing isolated peoples to logging across millions of hectares. At a December meeting, Carmen Inés Vegas Guerrero, Peru's deputy minister of agriculture, argued that 'without the concession, there would be more deaths' due to chaos and drug trafficking she claims would ensue without legal loggers. Her office did not respond to requests for comment. The conflict persists even with some logging companies in Madre de Dios considered among Peru's most responsible. The region was closely monitored after the 2005-2011 construction of the Interoceanic Highway, funded by the Inter-American Development Bank. Some logging firms have Forest Stewardship Council (FSC) certification. In March 2025, Madre de Dios had five FSC-certified operations covering 573,680 hectares (1.4m acres). About half is held by Maderera Rio Acre SAC (Maderacre), with two concessions totalling 93,470 hectares (231,000 acres) overlapping the proposed reserve expansion, Ojo Publico's investigation found. Despite certifications, violent incidents continue. Maderera Canales Tahuamanu, a logging firm with 52,869 hectares, had its FSC certificate suspended after a confrontation in which Mashco Piro arrows killed two loggers and two more workers disappeared. Julio Cusurichi, a Madre de Dios Indigenous leader, says: 'We don't know how many isolated people have died in these conflicts, but we believe that some have because in these kinds of conflicts it's not only the loggers who are killed.' Sign up to Global Dispatch Get a different world view with a roundup of the best news, features and pictures, curated by our global development team after newsletter promotion Carla Cárdenas, an Ecuadorian environmental lawyer and longtime FSC member, says the certification rules are flawed, with no mention of isolated peoples. FSC requires local consultation about logging plans, which is impossible with uncontacted groups. Cárdenas drafted a motion to bar certification 'in the case of any indication of the presence of Indigenous peoples living in voluntary isolation'. She says the language will be decided at the council's October assembly in Panama, but she is unsure whether she can secure votes from FSC member companies. 'They will feel there are fewer territories for them to continue working under the FSC system,' she says. 'The FSC needs to show that those companies are respecting human rights.' FSC's representatives did not respond to the Guardian's request for comment, but released a statement indicating that the Maderacre certifications were being reviewed. Local authorities often support logging. At a December 2024 meeting, Tahuamanu mayor Rubén Darío, on the land categorisation committee, called for a new study to verify if the Mashco Piro truly need the land, citing the forest's timber value for his municipality. His office sent a report to the Ministry of Culture questioning the validity of the 2016 study that recommended the reserve's expansion. There is no indication that the ministry has responded. A government expert, speaking anonymously, says: 'Evidence from recent years all extends beyond the expansion area of the Madre de Dios territorial reserve. If a new, objective study is done, I'm absolutely sure that it would be expanded substantially more.' For now, no decision has been made. As long as the committee does not convene, logging in Mashco Piro territory continues. No other reserve decisions can be made, including the long-delayed Yavarí-Mirim reserve on Peru's northern border with Brazil. Ministry of Culture officials declined to comment. Logging is not just a Peruvian problem. Maria Luiza Pinedo Ochoa, executive coordinator of the Acre Pro-Indian Committee (CPI-Acre), a Brazilian advocacy group, highlights the threat from Peruvian logging but says pressure comes from both sides. 'Road building on the Brazilian side is a factor that really worries us,' she says. The Acre government plans a road between Santa Rosa do Purus and Manoel Urbano. The federal public prosecutor has sided with environmental and Indigenous groups trying to stop the highway, but most state politicians support it. Without intervention, Mashco Piro territory could be swiftly and irreversibly fragmented. The one road between the two countries, the Interoceanic Highway, brought a devastating gold mining industry, permanent logging concessions, and side roads snaking into the forest. Cusurichi, now leading efforts to protect isolated peoples at Peru's national Indigenous organisation (Aidesep), criticises both governments: 'With the Peruvian government, we are going through a very challenging situation. Instead of protecting lives, the lives of these people, they are catering to extractive interests,' such as oil, timber and road building. Of Brazil, he says: 'We thought that with this new Brazilian leader [Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva] things were going to get better, but the meetings we have had with Indigenous organisations indicate that it's nothing but talk.' On 21 January, the Brazilian government took the first step toward creating the Chandless River Mashco Indigenous territory, covering 538,338 hectares (1.33m acres). Still, Marco Aurélio Milken Tosta, head of Brazil's general coordination for isolated and recently contacted Indigenous peoples, says binational coordination is needed. Peru and Brazil signed an agreement in 2014 and have worked well together in the past, but the two-year accord was never renewed. 'We need a new agreement,' he says, 'The isolated people don't have a border.' With official cooperation lacking, Indigenous organisations have created a binational commission and championed two large 'territorial corridors' for isolated peoples, spanning 25m hectares (61.7m acres). Volunteers among the Manchineru people in Brazil's Acre state, who speak a language closely related to the Mashco Piro and call them parentes desconfiados ('wary relatives'), monitor the Mashco Piro to ensure no one gets too close. Recently, they have observed changes in behaviour. 'They will appear soon, more of them, and probably before summer, which is an unusual dynamic,' says Lucas Manchineri. Agents such as Ponciano occasionally shout conversations – which do not constitute contact – across the river to Mashco Piro, who speak a similar language. Sometimes, they talk at closer quarters. Ponciano says the Mashco Piro simply don't understand logging. ''Why do they cut down the big trees?' they asked me. 'I couldn't explain,' he says. 'For them, the trees are like monuments. They don't want us to cut them down.' Ponciano has asked if they want to make contact. 'They have always told me the same: 'No, because you are bad,'' he says. 'When I tell them I'm not bad, they say: 'Yes, you are not bad. But the others are bad.'' This series on uncontacted peoples is a partnership between the Guardian and Brazilian newspaper O Globo and is supported by the Open Society Foundations, the Ford Foundation and the Pulitzer Center. Read it in Portuguese here
The Guardian
a day ago
- The Guardian
‘We don't want contact because you are bad': loggers close in on uncontacted people in Peruvian Amazon
In 1999, Beatriz Huertas, then a young anthropologist, travelled deep into the Peruvian Amazon to investigate reports of uncontacted Indigenous peoples. Along the Las Piedras River, people in Monte Salvado, a Yine Indigenous village, described how every summer, 'aislados' – those who avoid sustained contact with outsiders – would appear across the river. 'They were coming into the fields and taking bananas,' says Huertas. Huertas followed the trail north to the Tahuamanu River, where fishers also reported sightings. Crossing into Brazil's Acre state, she collected more evidence – footprints, tools and local testimonies. Her findings, compiled in a 2001 report for the Native Federation of the Madre de Dios River and Tributaries (Fenamad), recommended protecting 2m hectares (4.95m acres) for the wide-ranging Mashco Piro people. Twenty-five years later, the Mashco Piro, the world's largest uncontacted Indigenous group, face growing threats from logging, drug trafficking and the climate crisis in the Brazil-Peru borderlands. Recent raids in Brazil highlight their struggle for territory and resources, worsened by environmental changes and criminal activity. Despite legal protection and international agreements, cooperation between Brazil and Peru remains inadequate, putting the Mashco Piro at risk. Uncontacted peoples, or 'peoples in voluntary isolation', avoid contact with modern society to protect their way of life and stay safe from violence or exploitation. They live in remote areas such as rainforests and deserts, maintaining traditional cultures free from outside influence. Governments and organisations aim to protect their rights and territories to prevent disease, cultural disruption and exploitation, safeguarding their autonomy and lands. What constitutes contact? In anthropology, 'contact' means interactions between cultural or social groups. 'Contacted' individuals have continuing relations with society. Contact can be direct, for example trade or conflict, or indirect, such as disease transmission. It involves cultural exchange and economic interactions. Colonial contact often imposed systems that disrupted Indigenous cultures. Brief or accidental interactions don't count as contact. Where are their territories? Most uncontacted peoples live in the Amazon basin, especially in Brazil and Peru, often within protected areas. Others are in the Gran Chaco, Andaman Islands, North Sentinel Island and West Papua. The Amazon basin, a vast region spanning several countries in South America, including Brazil, Peru, Colombia and Ecuador, is home to the largest number of uncontacted communities, with estimates suggesting there could be dozens of such groups living in isolation. Western Brazil and eastern Peru are known for having some of the last uncontacted groups, including some that live in voluntary isolation within protected Indigenous territories and national parks. Is it essential to protect uncontacted peoples? Some oppose protection, citing a lack of modern benefits, concerns about land use or safety issues. Advocates argue that they survive using natural resources, contact harms health and evangelisation weakens cultures. They emphasise these peoples' rights to their territories and the inability of governments to ensure their safety. Even after contact, Indigenous peoples have rights to their full traditional territories according to some national and international norms. Why is the idea controversial? Governments and NGOs work to protect uncontacted peoples' territories from logging, mining and agriculture as they threaten their survival. Demarcating protected zones reduces human activity and preserves the way of life within them. In some countries, such as Brazil, legislation requires the government to demarcate Indigenous territories in the event of identifying uncontacted peoples – a measure that often conflicts with economic interests linked to land rights and use. After Huertas's report, Peru approved 800,000 hectares (1.98m acres) for protection, bounded by a straight north-south line. But on the other side of that line, 38 logging concessions were granted over the next two years, covering 694,584 hectares (1.73m acres) – including areas used by the Mashco Piro. In 2006, Peru passed a law protecting isolated and recently contacted peoples, creating six Indigenous reserves with stronger legal standing than earlier 'territorial reserves', including Madre de Dios, says Carlos Soria, an environmental lawyer and former head of protected areas. In 2016, a government commission approved expanding the Madre de Dios reserve by 240,471 hectares (593,000 acres), as many Mashco Piro nomads lived in logging concessions. But the expansion has never been implemented and logging concessions still remain in more than 176,000 hectares (435,000 acres). This uneasy cohabitation has resulted in a long-term conflict in the wilds of Madre de Dios. Ojo Público's investigation, using Ministry of Culture data, found 81 instances of evidence of the Mashco Piro in and around the Madre de Dios reserve from 2016 to 2024, with 19 in the expansion area; four involved violent encounters. Isrrail Aquise, coordinator of Fenamad's defence of isolated peoples, says violence has changed community behaviour. 'The women are not coming out, and the old men and children who used to come out are not appearing,' he says, adding that only able-bodied Mashco Piro men and boys are seen on the riverside. 'They are protecting their vulnerable members probably because of the confrontations with loggers, whether legal or illegal.' Lucas Manchineri, president of the local Indigenous association across the border in Brazil, says the climate crisis – bringing more extreme rain and drought – also disrupts seasonal routines. Headwater creeks dry up early, forcing the Mashco Piro downstream, closer to villages. 'Wherever land isn't protected, there are miners, drug traffickers, loggers, illegal fishers and hunters and those people are pushing the Mashco Piro closer to our community,' he says. 'We are fighting to protect our uncontacted relatives, but to do that, we need to protect our territory.' To avoid confrontations, Peru's Ministry of Culture maintains 19 control posts nationally for the eight Indigenous and territorial reserves. Most staff members are local people, such as Romel Ponciano, a Yine man from Monte Salvado. But, he says, the government 'keeps cutting the budget. Each post needs six staff members because … it's a territorial reserve with isolated people. Often we have only two people on duty – or none at all.' Ponciano says the Mashco Piro population is increasing, making state presence more urgent. The exact population is unknown, but experts agree it is in the thousands. 'I've seen their numbers grow between 2000 and today. They have increased a lot. Sometimes we see 200 at a time,' he says. The Inter-American commission on human rights found that Peru has violated the rights of the Mashco Piro, Yor and Amahuaca peoples. After years of inaction, the case was referred to the Inter-American court of human rights, which in March 2025 demanded upgrades in protection for aislados in a similar case in Ecuador. Yet, supporters of extractive industries often dispute the existence of isolated peoples. In 2007, Peru's then-president, Alan García claimed: 'To stop oil, they have created the 'uncontacted' native.' Recently, Loreto's development business group launched a campaign denying the existence of isolated peoples in north-east Peru, despite clear evidence gathered by experts. For two decades, the timber industry has operated under 40-year leases in Mashco Piro territory. Now, some officials support a special zone where loggers and uncontacted people would officially coexist. 'This sets a terrible precedent that could justify opening all of the isolated people's territories for logging,' says Huertas, now a consultant for the Rainforest Foundation of Norway. Indigenous organisations in Peru's north-east successfully sued the Loreto regional government, forcing it to revoke 72 logging concessions in areas designated for isolated communities. If legal timber operations are allowed in uncontacted lands, Huertas fears such suits would fail, exposing isolated peoples to logging across millions of hectares. At a December meeting, Carmen Inés Vegas Guerrero, Peru's deputy minister of agriculture, argued that 'without the concession, there would be more deaths' due to chaos and drug trafficking she claims would ensue without legal loggers. Her office did not respond to requests for comment. The conflict persists even with some logging companies in Madre de Dios considered among Peru's most responsible. The region was closely monitored after the 2005-2011 construction of the Interoceanic Highway, funded by the Inter-American Development Bank. Some logging firms have Forest Stewardship Council (FSC) certification. In March 2025, Madre de Dios had five FSC-certified operations covering 573,680 hectares (1.4m acres). About half is held by Maderera Rio Acre SAC (Maderacre), with two concessions totalling 93,470 hectares (231,000 acres) overlapping the proposed reserve expansion, Ojo Publico's investigation found. Despite certifications, violent incidents continue. Maderera Canales Tahuamanu, a logging firm with 52,869 hectares, had its FSC certificate suspended after a confrontation in which Mashco Piro arrows killed two loggers and two more workers disappeared. Julio Cusurichi, a Madre de Dios Indigenous leader, says: 'We don't know how many isolated people have died in these conflicts, but we believe that some have because in these kinds of conflicts it's not only the loggers who are killed.' Sign up to Global Dispatch Get a different world view with a roundup of the best news, features and pictures, curated by our global development team after newsletter promotion Carla Cárdenas, an Ecuadorian environmental lawyer and longtime FSC member, says the certification rules are flawed, with no mention of isolated peoples. FSC requires local consultation about logging plans, which is impossible with uncontacted groups. Cárdenas drafted a motion to bar certification 'in the case of any indication of the presence of Indigenous peoples living in voluntary isolation'. She says the language will be decided at the council's October assembly in Panama, but she is unsure whether she can secure votes from FSC member companies. 'They will feel there are fewer territories for them to continue working under the FSC system,' she says. 'The FSC needs to show that those companies are respecting human rights.' FSC's representatives did not respond to the Guardian's request for comment, but released a statement indicating that the Maderacre certifications were being reviewed. Local authorities often support logging. At a December 2024 meeting, Tahuamanu mayor Rubén Darío, on the land categorisation committee, called for a new study to verify if the Mashco Piro truly need the land, citing the forest's timber value for his municipality. His office sent a report to the Ministry of Culture questioning the validity of the 2016 study that recommended the reserve's expansion. There is no indication that the ministry has responded. A government expert, speaking anonymously, says: 'Evidence from recent years all extends beyond the expansion area of the Madre de Dios territorial reserve. If a new, objective study is done, I'm absolutely sure that it would be expanded substantially more.' For now, no decision has been made. As long as the committee does not convene, logging in Mashco Piro territory continues. No other reserve decisions can be made, including the long-delayed Yavarí-Mirim reserve on Peru's northern border with Brazil. Ministry of Culture officials declined to comment. Logging is not just a Peruvian problem. Maria Luiza Pinedo Ochoa, executive coordinator of the Acre Pro-Indian Committee (CPI-Acre), a Brazilian advocacy group, highlights the threat from Peruvian logging but says pressure comes from both sides. 'Road building on the Brazilian side is a factor that really worries us,' she says. The Acre government plans a road between Santa Rosa do Purus and Manoel Urbano. The federal public prosecutor has sided with environmental and Indigenous groups trying to stop the highway, but most state politicians support it. Without intervention, Mashco Piro territory could be swiftly and irreversibly fragmented. The one road between the two countries, the Interoceanic Highway, brought a devastating gold mining industry, permanent logging concessions, and side roads snaking into the forest. Cusurichi, now leading efforts to protect isolated peoples at Peru's national Indigenous organisation (Aidesep), criticises both governments: 'With the Peruvian government, we are going through a very challenging situation. Instead of protecting lives, the lives of these people, they are catering to extractive interests,' such as oil, timber and road building. Of Brazil, he says: 'We thought that with this new Brazilian leader [Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva] things were going to get better, but the meetings we have had with Indigenous organisations indicate that it's nothing but talk.' On 21 January, the Brazilian government took the first step toward creating the Chandless River Mashco Indigenous territory, covering 538,338 hectares (1.33m acres). Still, Marco Aurélio Milken Tosta, head of Brazil's general coordination for isolated and recently contacted Indigenous peoples, says binational coordination is needed. Peru and Brazil signed an agreement in 2014 and have worked well together in the past, but the two-year accord was never renewed. 'We need a new agreement,' he says, 'The isolated people don't have a border.' With official cooperation lacking, Indigenous organisations have created a binational commission and championed two large 'territorial corridors' for isolated peoples, spanning 25m hectares (61.7m acres). Volunteers among the Manchineru people in Brazil's Acre state, who speak a language closely related to the Mashco Piro and call them parentes desconfiados ('wary relatives'), monitor the Mashco Piro to ensure no one gets too close. Recently, they have observed changes in behaviour. 'They will appear soon, more of them, and probably before summer, which is an unusual dynamic,' says Lucas Manchineri. Agents such as Ponciano occasionally shout conversations – which do not constitute contact – across the river to Mashco Piro, who speak a similar language. Sometimes, they talk at closer quarters. Ponciano says the Mashco Piro simply don't understand logging. ''Why do they cut down the big trees?' they asked me. 'I couldn't explain,' he says. 'For them, the trees are like monuments. They don't want us to cut them down.' Ponciano has asked if they want to make contact. 'They have always told me the same: 'No, because you are bad,'' he says. 'When I tell them I'm not bad, they say: 'Yes, you are not bad. But the others are bad.'' This series on uncontacted peoples is a partnership between the Guardian and Brazilian newspaper O Globo and is supported by the Open Society Foundations, the Ford Foundation and the Pulitzer Center. Read it in Portuguese here
