Fritz: You aren’t the only crazy man I’ve ever known to grab a javelina. On my second trip up the Bladen branch of the Monkey river I had the misfortune to have hired a bunch of worthless bums from Mango creek to serve as porters. Erlin was the worst, a 6'6" leering sneering teenage homeboy. He was the most accomplished thief in the village, and so was looked up to by the others. My standing orders are always to stay at least a mile behind me, so you can well imagine the opportunities for mischief. They followed the trail Arturo and I cut. As they went through the jungle they swilled the rum and ate the food they were supposed to be carrying, some of it they hid under rocks to pick up on the way home. When we finally got to base camp on a tributary pouring off the Maya mountains we were all so exhausted that we fixed a simple meal and crashed. Very early (an unheard of and suspicious circumstance with Belizeans!) I heard Erlin and the men get up to leave, I offered them food for the journey back but they insisted they needed nothing and quickly hurried off. Shortly thereafter Arturo and I discovered that all the food was gone. We were Spamless! The next morning I was snoozing in my tent when I awoke to the sound of distant small arms fire. Suddenly Arturo appeared and urgently whispered, Missa Boose! Missa Boos! Wake up, the pigs are here!” I climbed out of my tent to behold an enormous boar Warrie on the river terrace just above and behind me, about twenty feet away. Now you must know that there are two kinds of such piggies, the Javelina, which the Bushwoogians call the Peccari, and the Warrie. The Peccari is a small triangular blackish creature with a whitish collar, a hideous stench, and an even worse disposition. The entire front half of the animal is mouth. They run in small herds and have small territories. The Warrie is much larger, has a whitish beard, runs in herds of a hundred or more, and is nomadic. They are even meaner than Peccaries and are greatly feared in folklore. It is said that they gobble up hapless hunters. I blinked at the enormous boar as it looked at me with it’s little piggy eyes. From behind him came the sound of gunfire, Pow! Powpow! Pow! The herd was eating “Warrie cohune” nuts. The Cohune is a gigantic palm tree native to Belize that is the salvation of the country. Anyone with any industry can build a shelter with the leaves, the nuts serve wildlife, and everything about it is good. The name cohune has now come to mean any palm, even the dread spine palm. Astrocaryum mexicanum is an elegant small understory palm about twenty feet tall. The beautiful dark green leaves and every other part of the plant are entirely covered with horrible needle like spines up to three inches long, but far sharper than any needle. They slide into your flesh with the greatest of ease then shatter like glass. Where these palms live no one ever goes barefoot. Where these palms live no one ever grabs a branch to steady himself. I am terrified of them! The nuts of these palms are delicious miniature coconuts covered with the most horrible spines imaginable. It is impossible to even pick one up. Nevertheless, the huge herd of Warrie, perhaps eighty of them, were cracking them like candy! ‘Turo said, “Hurry to the bend in the river and take a snap! They will cross there!” I prefer a leisurely breakfast so my boots weren’t even properly tied on, but I grabbed my camera and crossed the dry stream bed to the floodplain beyond. My first thought was to find a tree to climb, but everywhere I looked there was nothing but spine palms. As predicted the herd thundered across the dry stream bed straight at me. I had to decide between the warries or the spine palms. It was an easy choice, I just stood there! They poured around me in a great stream, oblivious to my presence. Arturo ran up with the gun and eagerly begged permission to shoot (I had banned hunting), reminding me of our stolen food. That was an easy decision too! With the boom the pigs went crazy, running in all directions and leaving their little piggies behind. Where was the badass boar? Turo yelled “ grab one!" but that didn’t seem prudent. He grabbed one anyway and Mom attacked. As she went for his ankles he booted her in the snoot so she turned and ran. I petitioned for the little piggy’s life and made Arturo let him go, for his big brother was laying in a pool of blood. We spent a whole day eating pig and swapping lies. Every day thereafter as we pushed further back into the wilderness we left the carcass over a smokey fire to keep the flies off. That pig was good for a three week trip! Sleazeweazel
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