As we sat having breakfast one morning, our friend Vishnu Singh drove by in his boat and told us that he had shot a jaguar the night before and we could go see it on the shore nearby. We often wonder if there was a jaguar prowling in the jungle that was so close we can sometimes reach out and touch the bamboo from the boat. The jaguar had been killing the villagers’ baby goats and they called Vishnu to stop the jaguar. He found the remains of a goat nearby and set some traps. Then Vishnu hid in a tree and waited through the night. He heard a noise and shone his big flashlight through the clouds of mosquitoes and shot him.
By the time we got ready to go ashore, a couple boat loads of villagers were crossing the river to see the jaguar. We rowed over very close to where the schooner was anchored, walked across a muddy field, and then across a narrow plank slippery with mud and finally saw the dead jaguar in the grass.
Darshen asked what did the jaguar say when Vishnu shot it. I told Darshen the jaguar said, “Oh my goodness. I’m shot, I’m dead now. I should never have eaten those people’s goats. I’m king of the jungle, but I learned my lesson. Next time I’ll stay far away from man and his guns.” It’s a fine line between wilderness and civilization. On occasion, each side forays into the other’s camp. As wild and isolated as this place is there is still internet, TV, and instant contact with the rest of the world. People who live in huts on poles watch American news. They are influenced instantaneously by the world media.
