Soft, honeyed dawn light spills over the still blackwater channels of Trinidad’s Nariva Wetland, the last of the summer night’s humid warmth still clinging to mangrove leaves as you drift in that gentle, half-awake space between nap and full waking. A soft, nearby frog croak and the faint, distant echo of a dolphin pod’s clicks drift through the quiet, layered over the gentle lap of small wavelets against the muddy bank. The faint, fading chirp of crickets lingers in the air, a quiet reminder of