SNA      SNA     SNAKE!

                                   © Ric Polansky

It was on the third day of our expedition through the dense border jungle between Ecuador and Peru that Freddy and I had the problem. Our minds were asleep.  The ill mannered, irrelevancy of a strenuous boring task. We were slashing and cutting. Absently performing the routine & famed whack-whack jungle ritual. Come on, all together now, machete’s held high, whack whack-- advance an inch. Whack whack-- take a short pace forward. Whack whack,-- just a little bit further. Then abruptly the foliage suddenly parted. We had miraculously hacked our way into a small clearing which had probably once been an Indian encampment. This Godsend was a natural resting place, even though we had just started cleaving once again from a pervious repose. Such fine spots of sunny reclusion are rare in themselves to encounter, the jungle being mostly shaded by high canopied trees. We both immediately decided to strip down and let our flesh bask in the radiance. I immediately peeled off my jacket that I always wore to keep out the countless crawlies and gnashing insects. It´s long sleeves also served to keep my arms protected from the many unbeknown plants that can leave abrasive cuts and/or attenuated rashes.  

Once stripped I paused for another full moment, hat in hand, quite content to just allow that knew felt splendor to permeate and embrace my entire being.  Then I dropped down to my knees, rolled over on my back and pleasured my eyes with that jungle rarity: a blue sky.                                                           

Freddy, wasted no time either, he trudged over to a nearby fallen tree, uttered a prolonged sigh of relief and noisily collapsed to the ground. However, when he settled back against the main trunk we both simultaneously heard the rustle and flinchingly alerted our senses to a foreign presence very near.  It's movement was just loud and distinctive enough that I surmised that we had a coiled monster within striking range equal distance between Freddy and myself. Before I could blink an eye, Freddy had haphazardly moved again and coincidentally the fiend momentarily popped it's head up. I instantly knew we were in trouble.

I was frozen in sheer terror. Unable to react or even speak for what seemed an eternity of heart beats. I tried to shout. But I don't believe the words ever left my mouth. I tried again but only a faint slur diphthonged against my teeth.  "SNA SNA" my mind screamed,  or maybe the viper said it for me. They reputedly can do such things.

Instantaneously, instincts took control.  By now blood was coursing through my veins. The pupils of my eyes had dilated and then were expanding. The hair on my arms intuitively stood straight up and I stopped breathing. Mother nature had immediately cautioned us to one of her own. My throbbing mind and pulsating eyes totally understood the precariousness of the situation-- time too was holding it's breath.

I was an immovable statue of fright, but my mind was pulsating the flow of life saving information. It had to be a LACHESIS MUTA. Every zoo wanted one. Every herpetologists dreamed of seeing one. And we had one or it was about to have one of us. Everything about them is awesome, between 7-12 feet in length and totally deadly. Named LACHESIS after the Greek God, controller of fate, length of your life. This one was probably a female soaking in the sun that is ever so important during pregnancy and to help digest their food. Territorial and usually daytime sleepers, we had obviously disturbed and woken her. She was a deadly pit viper with hypnotic eyes and long fangs.             

rattlesnake

In this part of the Amazon the Indians call them a “Shushupi.”  Everyone fears them not only because they represent instant death but more so of their reputed nature of sneaking up behind you and puncturing your life. Even good explorers fear being dogged by the quiet shadow of death, but even more so, if you're the last person walking in the cortege, as  they can very quietly (MUTA), nip your life chord (Lachesis).

 I could barely breath. What chance had we? Then I remembered a tale about a man that had come across a big one standing in his path, at least three feet tall. The guide was quick witted enough to throw his hat at the loathsome fiend, which immediately set upon it and struck his cap more than eight times before the guide could even gasp.  That would be our chance. If it had to bite something for it´s natural rage, my trusty jacket would do.

I slung my jacket at it and simultaneously bolted from a totally prone position into a sprint.  I saw the jacket spread open in flight and fleetingly caught a glimpse of it settling nearby the serpent. I forgot to look for Freddy. Like campfire smoke, I was there and then gone again.

I had escaped with my life. I ran maniacally for some 500 yards through the impenetrable undergrowth which previously had taken me nearly two hours of sweated perseverance to penetrate. I had transversed the same distance in less time than it takes to strike a match and blow it out again.  But,  suddenly I stopped. My heart was still in my mouth and reverberating through my entire being as I wheezed and sucked in the hot moist air. Some damn crazy idea came to me, just like a primeval reckoning.  I too was part of this jungle. If I ran now I could never return. I could never belong and hence could never live in Amazon´s Green Hell. I had to go back or go on running forever.

Heaving and gasping deep breaths, I remained bent over sucking in the humid atmosphere around me.  My mind was a labyrinth of conflicting thoughts, but to no avail, I just knew I had to return. I too was part of the whole, or nothing. Within a few more moments I had finally recovered enough, caught a second wind, wheeled about and started to retrace my bulldozed trail. With each new stride, I was more resolute in my determination.  I had fled. I had left behind  a true companion, a friend of authentic trials and past sad tribulations. We had savored those furtive moments together, the ones that make any jungle explorer totally unique and different from the usual street wise guy. OK,  I had to return to get my jacket.

My jacket was special. Even tho’ the kind that you can buy in any shop for such fashion, it had become my jungle blanket. It had sheltered me. It had comforted me against frozen Andean winds and pelting steamy rains. That damn jacket had been with me  when I had fallen in a remote mining camp and  broken my leg in three places. That time honored same jacket had been there when I became delirious with pain. So crazy in fact, I shared two liters of aguadiente with a Jivaro (head hunter) witch doctor.

witch doctor

We both got drunk, enough so he would have the courage to set my leg and me the foolishness to allow him. That jacket had been a friend.  And, unlike Freddy, it never asked for frequent non-repayable loans. I was determined not to leave it, not to abandon it, nor forsake such a personal solace, and especially not to one of nature's most vicious abominations. I had to return. I had to reconcile my worst fears and somehow muster the courage--or lose my own personal dignity as a jungle man. With each returning step, I envisioned other reasons for repossession and they in turn further drove me  to confront that curled nemesis. As if in a trance, I trudged back to the clearing.  Me, controller of my fate or at worst, the instigator of my presumed destiny.

I paused once again upon entering the field. Almost magically Freddy´s head popped up just the other side of the tree trunk  where I had first seen him. Maybe he had never left? I worried. We eyed each other. Neither of us had the courage to comment. The reptile wasn't doing any talking either. The desired object of my return, lay equal distance between Freddy and myself. It too was quiet. But something was wrong. Dreadfully alerting. All was too still, too eerie. I began to bristle. I could sense my eyes twitching. This was life at it's purest.

"Freddy" I half whispered.   He looked at me whimsically. Why, he must have been transfixed by that creature I thought. He had a strange look about his countenance. He smiled one of his long and careful grins and nosed his head forward, and started to speak:  "Where'd you go so damn fast?"

In that same split second the thing moved again. I instantaneously knew  poor Freddy hadn’t seen the devil, nor even surmised his presence.  I screamed loud enough for anyone in the SELVA to hear: "Geezus Freddy, there's a bushmaster under the jacket."

He jumped about five feet up into the air and landed back upon the same fallen tree. Simultaneously the jacket jerked and moved also.   I had no choice. I had to step forward and control the situation and did so, as reluctantly as any man has ever paced onward to his death. Freddy jumped again when he saw me advance and again the invertebrate moved within the folds of my coat.

Without another thought, I struck the jacket full force with my machete. It hit home. I could feel the steel cutting edge give substance to death. I struck again and again. Congruously Freddy bolted high into the air, possibly shocked by my actions but subsequently the deadly viper moved again. Freddy too had unsheathed his machete and had a slash or two.  Not to be out done, I drew back a pace and whipped out my snub nosed 38 loaded with dum dum bullets and emptied six shots into the demon. Freddy, by now was slashing and beating himself into a frenzy. Together we had stabbed, thrust, knifed, hammered and beat that diabolical fate well into submission.

Emotionally drained, our task was done. Neither of us could  wield our machetes any longer. We paused.  I dropped to one knee. "Thanks Freddy," I thought my quivering voice said. I took a long deep gulp to recover my presence of mind. As I did so my own eyes bulged as I surveyed the circumstances.  I was aghast by the scene. What had we done?  With each glance, my eyes grew in proportion to the damages inflicted. The ground about was rutted as if by a frenzied wild animal and the remaining fabric slit into cross intersecting strips of ribbon, some pock marked by burnt bullet holes.  I swallowed heavily and looked down once more at what had been my closest comforts in the world. It was sliced, slashed and mutilated  into tatters. That damn snake had ruined my jacket!

I lost all thoughts of anything else but that natural abomination that we had created by attempting to destroy that deadly reptile.

Courageously Freddy finally kneeled over and stealthily lifted the corner of my coat, both of us hoping to catch a peek of that evil spirit that had threatened to nip our mutual life cords. To our amazement, there was nothing. Freddy continued lifting the remnants even further but there was still nothing, only chopped chips of a tubered root from that nearby tree where Freddy had been resting. Together we traced those roots and they did indeed come from the fallen log where Freddy had reclined.

To this day, neither of us have been able to explain to each other what actually happened in the clearing that day. Or, how that damn bushmaster got away. Freddy said that we shouldn't really worry about it. That made me feel much better. He also insisted that the snake had "probably gone to root."  That sure made sense to me. Freddy also talked me into yet another $500 loan, but promised faithfully never to tell this story in public.  And neither of us have ever talked about the "S" word since that day.