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By Rob Sutherland |
February 2001: It was back in 1995 that I found myself out in the northern part of the Amazon basin, an adventure set up under the guise of zoological research. The team that I was a part of were enjoying life living and working alongside a tribal village that we were absorbed into during our stay.
One day we heard from one of the villagers that there were rare dwarf caimens out in the mountainous country in Guyana so a few of us set of in a traditional Amerindian hunting party to see if we could find some of these crocodilians. We set of as normal along the main, well, only road in the area in our borrowed United Nations Landcruiser until stopping at a seemingly random part of the road.
Off we went into the jungle to an old hunting camp deep in the jungle, with nerves on edge after hearing reports of a "bad tribe" in the area. The tribe that held that area as a part of their territory were said to be untouched by the west - and to make matters worse, cannibalistic. I wasn't entirely convinced that we weren't being wound up, until the Amerindian leading the group ordered traps to be set up around the camp! These involved bows placed in a frame work, drawn back with poisoned arrows in place and held with a trigger attached to a trip wire... at human chest height! This really set us on edge as you can probably imagine!
The first couple of days passed uneventfully, but weevils had destroyed mos
t
of the food we had with us so we decided to try some fishing!
After a brief lesson in using a bow and arrow to catch fish we
felt pretty competent and set off along the banks of a creek
through the jungle. I was with a young lad from the village when
we saw what looked like a big fish breaking the surface before
dipping below. We could just make out the long slender shape
under the water that looked about a foot long - this was going
to be a great moment for me and would boost my reputation with
the hunting party. I drew back the string on the short bow and
loosed the meter long arrow at the shape. It struck home and
we grabbed it in glee. This is where it all went horribly wrong!
On pulling the arrow up from the water we didn't find a fish
on the speared on the point, it was sunk into the nose of a black
caimen. Black caimen are a rather different ballgame from the Dwarf variety that we were after at the time, these are the brutes of the South American waters, and this one wasn't a particularly small specimen. We estimated that it was somewhere in the region of 15 foot in length after the event. As the head came up from the water the eyes fixed on us and all hell broke loose. The head thrashed to the side and the tail started whipping the water and we.... turned and ran for it. After a few seconds I remembered reading somewhere that crocodilians are able to move at a fair pace on land, seeing a tree with conveniently low branches we saw our salvation.
It seems as though we were up in the tree for ages, with an agitated carnivore lying below waiting for revenge. In reality it was probably only five or ten minutes. After it gave up the wait we returned to the camp to tell our story. The second blow hit then, as we were supposed to be studying these magnificent creatures to protect them, we shouldn't really be harming them in any way. That night we were out down the creek with a flashlight looking for a caimen with an arrow in it's nose! On seeing it we managed to noose it and get a sack wrapped around it's head. Several people sat on it's back and we removed the arrow before treating the wound with antiseptics as best we could. The amerindians were in hysterics watching this as we risked life and limb to treat a large and very aggravated creature! Fortunately they are pretty docile when there eyes are covered so we were able to ease away following the treatment with no further incidents!
We returned to the camp to be rewarded for the entertainment with a bottle of bush rum - a vicious brew made in the jungle by the Indians. As the ribbing about the days event intensified so did my inebriation until I eventually fell into a drunken slumber.
It was certainly a day I will never forget, the day I shot a croc with a bow and arrow..... Courtesy Travel Week