Step into the new tropical forest exhibit at Phipps Conservatory and the muggy air might make… Step into the new tropical forest exhibit at Phipps Conservatory and the muggy air might make you think you’ve stumbled south of the equator.’

The smell of damp earth fills the air and you can hear water trickling somewhere out of sight. Close to the ground, the fronds of a sensitive plant curl away from your touch, leaving you with a sensation that reminds you of all those giant, creepy jungle bugs.

Not to worry, horticulturist Ben Dunigan assures that the insects and grubs of the Amazon are ‘very delicious.’

Dunigan spent three weeks in the Amazon basin and tropical Andes conducting research for the new Headwaters of the Amazon exhibit at Phipps. While a variety of wild forest plants greet visitors to the display, evidence of human activity soon emerges along the curving path.

‘This is a manioc toasting hut,’ explains Dunigan, gesturing to a small structure thatched with dry palm fronds. Manioc, or cassava, is an important food crop that must be soaked and toasted to remove deadly cyanide poisons.

Most people don’t request of their guides, ‘Hey, I want to process manioc,” said Dunigan, but he was not preparing for a typical plant display.

The exhibit focuses on the intersection between the region’s ecology and its human culture. Tucked amid the airy foliage of the vera wood tree and the emerald-striped leaves of the zebra plant are food plants like potato and quinoa.

Even the buildings reference the natural landscape. Designed to accommodate annual flooding, a medicine hut perches above the exhibit on tree trunk stilts.

‘In the rainy season, [in the Amazon] it’s not uncommon to see someone canoe right up to their house,’ said Dunigan.

In a region ruled by the river and its tributaries, fish — even piranha — are a major protein source. A family with a streak of bad fishing luck can approach the medicine man or woman for help. In the exhibit’s hut, local crafts and information on medicinal plants replace the wise forest guru.

While Dunigan passed on tasting the concoctions of a local medicine woman, the jungle beer masato’ was more appealing. In the exhibit, a sign just beyond the healer’s hut instructs visitors how to brew the draft, which is made from manioc, the same cyanide-filled tuber from the toasting hut. The brewing equipment comes directly from the forest: a trough and paddle carved from the appropriately named paddle wood tree. Dunigan describes the resulting beverage as ‘sweet but milky, smooth feeling, not something I’d bother to import.’

As the path continues, more familiar plants emerge, important exports like coffee plants and banana trees. The architecture turns to a more urban design. Spanish arcades allude to the region’s layered history. While in Peru, Dunigan heard plenty of both Spanish and Kechua, the ancient unwritten language of the Inca. Snapping a wayward twig from a red powderpuff tree, he ponders the complexity of representing the region’s flora and its impact on culture.

‘A lot of our exhibits are to wow you, to impress people with flowers and shows,’ said Dunigan, as two women came through the Amazon jungle pushing wheelbarrows full of bright yellow snapdragons, destined for the spring flower show. ‘I want people to be able to sit in the medicine hut and feel like they are really there.’

With a three-year phase, Headwaters of the Amazon will have time to go through subtle changes like a real tropical forest. Already, Calathea leaves are unfurling like dark parchment, and morning glory and red passion flower vines twine up trees and creep out onto the paths.