The New Noah (10 page)

I was very surprised to find the Amerindians keeping boa-constrictors as pets, for I had expected to find them as frightened of snakes as the Africans were. Inquiring about it, I discovered that
they kept these reptiles in their huts crawling about on the rafters, and they took the place of the domestic cat in England. Feeding on any rats or mice they came across, these snakes would become
very tame and, as long as the supply of rats and mice lasted, remained up in the rafters and never ventured down to the ground. The Amerindians explained to me that not only were the
boa-constrictors far better rat catchers than any cat, but they were handsome pink, silver, black, and white creatures which were considerably more beautiful than cats to look at as they draped
themselves like coloured scarves in the roofs of the huts.

In Guiana there are found three different kinds of ant-eater. There is the giant, which with its great shaggy tail, measures over six feet in length, there is the tamandua which is about the
size of a pekinese, and there is the pygmy which only measures about eight inches long. Now these three ant-eaters live in completely different types of country and, although they are occasionally
found in each other’s territory, they mainly stick to the country which suits them best. The giant ant-eater prefers to live on the grasslands in the northern half of Guiana, while the other
two, being arboreal, inhabit the forested regions. The tamandua can be found even in the semi-cultivated portions of the country, but to find the pygmy, you have to go into the deep virgin
forest.

To capture a giant ant-eater for our collection, I had to fly some two hundred miles inland up to the northern grass fields or savanna-land. The plane dropped me off at a remote ranch on the
banks of the Rupununi River. Here I enlisted the aid of an extremely clever Indian hunter who was called Francis. I explained to him what I wanted, and after a lot of thought he said the best way
would be for him to go out into the grass fields and search about until he found signs of where a giant ant-eater was living. Then we could go out and search for the animal and try to capture
it.

I agreed to this plan, and three days later Francis turned up at the ranch-house, beaming all over his face, to tell me that he had been successful. Somewhere in a certain patch of the savanna,
he had found unmistakable signs of an ant-eater’s presence, in the shape of ants’ nests that had been split open by its powerful claws.

So, very early Francis and my friend and I, mounted on horseback, set off after the ant-eater. The golden grass fields, dotted here and there with small clumps of tiny shrubs, shimmered in the
rays of the sun and stretched away in every direction to the distant horizon where there was a rim of pale greeny-blue mountains. We rode for hours and saw no life at all except a pair of tiny
hawks circling high in the blue sky above us.

Now I knew that the grasslands had their fair share of animal life and I was rather surprised that on our ride we did not come across more creatures. I soon discovered why this was, for as we
were riding along, we came to a great oval hollow in the bottom of which was a placid lake filled with water-lilies and fringed with lush plants and small trees. In a flash, everything seemed to
come to life. The air was full of zooming dragonflies, and brilliantly coloured lizards scuttled about our horses’ hooves; kingfishers perched on the dead branches of trees hanging over the
water and in the reeds and bushes alongside the lake there were hosts of tiny birds chattering and fluttering. As we rode past, I saw on the opposite bank ten jabiru storks, each standing about
four feet high, and gazing down their long beaks with solemn expressions.

When we had passed the lake and once again entered the grass field, everything became lifeless again and the only sound was the steady crackle and swish of our horses’ hooves in the long
grass.

So I realized that the majority of these grasslands were waterless from the point of view of animal and bird life, and it was for this reason that they concentrated round the edges of the lakes
and pools which were to be found. Therefore, you might ride for miles and see no life at all, and then you would come to a little hollow with a pond or lake in it and find that its shores were
overflowing with bird and animal life.

Eventually, about midday, we reached our destination, a certain spot in the savanna, at which Francis halted his horse and told us it was in this area that the ant-eater was living. He said it
would be best for us to spread out in a line and ride through the long grass, making as much noise as possible so as to frighten the ant-eater out of its sleeping-hollow. We could then drive it on
to an area of savanna with short grass, which lay to our left, and we could overtake the animal more easily on horseback. We plunged into the long grass which was as high as our horses’
chests and made our way shouting and creating as much noise as possible.

The earth under the grass was baked as hard as a brick by the sun and split with great cracks and holes, so our horses often stumbled and almost threw us over their heads. Suddenly, I heard a
loud yell from Francis, and looking towards him I saw a dark shape hopping about in the grass just ahead of his horse. My companion and I turned our mounts and rode down to help our hunter. The
ant-eater, for that was what I presumed it to be, was trying to get still deeper into the long grass but we managed to cut him off and drive him out on to the open patch of ground. He galloped
along, his thick stubby legs thumping the ground, his long icicle-shaped head swinging from side to side and his great tail fluttering out behind him like a banner.

We rode after him as quickly as possible and I went to one side to prevent him from getting back into the long grass while Francis took the other side, uncoiling his lasso as he urged his horse
on. Gradually he drew level with the galloping ant-eater, and whirling his lasso he threw it. He had, unfortunately, made a mistake in the size of the horse. It was too big and so, although it was
well in front of the ant-eater, the animal just simply galloped through it and continued on across the grass, snorting and hissing. Francis halted his horse, re-coiled the rope and set off in
pursuit once again. He drew level with the animal and threw his lasso again. This time he was lucky, and drew the rope tight round the ant-eater’s neck.

He was off his horse in a moment, hanging on grimly to the end of the rope while the angry ant-eater rushed on across the grass, dragging him with it. I jumped off my horse and ran over and laid
hold of the rope as well. It was quite amazing the strength the ant-eater had in his stubby legs for he dragged us to and fro across the savanna until we began to feel quite exhausted and our hands
were being cut by the rope. Francis, looking over his shoulder, grunted with relief. Looking round, too, I saw that our struggle had brought us fairly close to a small tree about twelve feet high.
This was, in fact, the only tree to be seen for miles.

Sweating and panting we dragged the reluctant ant-eater towards this, and then wound the loose end of the rope round and round the tree trunk and tied it fast. I had just tied the last knot when
Francis glanced up into the branches of the tree above and gave a yelp of dismay. Looking up, I saw about two feet above our heads a large circular wasps’ nest about the size of a football.
The ant-eater, tugging on the end of his rope, was making the tree sway and bend, and the wasp colony was not at all pleased with this and they were swarming out on the outside of the nest, buzzing
angrily. Francis and I retreated with all speed.

Now that we had the ant-eater safely tied up (or so we thought) we went back to the horses to collect the various items that we had brought with us – some strong twine and some large sacks
for carrying the quarry in. When I returned to the tree I was just in time to see the ant-eater claw off the last loop of rope, shake himself like a big dog, and start off plodding across the
savanna in a slow and dignified manner. Leaving Francis to retrieve his lasso from the wasp infested tree, I ran after the ant-eater on foot, fashioning a slip knot at the end of a length of twine
as I ran.

I rush up to him and flung my amateur lasso at his head, but not being as skilful as Francis I naturally missed. The ant-eater kept plodding on; I tried again with equal lack of success and then
a third time, but the ant-eater had become a little irritated with my constantly flinging yards of twine at him and he suddenly stopped, faced round, and rose up on his hind legs. In this attitude
his head was on a level with my chest and I looked warily at the great curved six-inch claws on his front feet that he held at the ready.

He snuffled and sniffed, waving his long, slender snout from side to side and swinging his forearms so that he looked rather like a boxer. As I did not fancy having a rough and tumble with a
creature that was obviously capable of doing considerable damage with his front claws, I decided that it would be better to wait until Francis had joined me and then one of us could attract the
animal’s attention, while the other tried to capture him. I walked round the ant-eater to see if I could take him unawares, in the rear, but he merely revolved like a top, always keeping his
big claws pointed menacingly at me. So I sat on the ground to wait for Francis.

The ant-eater, realizing that there was a break in hostilities, decided that it would be a good chance for him to repair the damage done to his person by his fight with us. As he had run about
the savanna, hissing and snorting, great streams of saliva had been pouring out of his mouth. This was thick and sticky, and normally the ant-eater uses it for coating his long tongue, in order to
pick up his food. However, these long strands of adhesive saliva had run out of his mouth; as he ran they flapped to and fro picking up bits of stick and grass and eventually getting stuck across
his nose. He now sat on his haunches and with great care cleaned his long snout with the aid of his claws. Then he gave a deep sigh, stood up and shook himself, and started to plod off across the
savanna once more.

When Francis joined me, carrying his lasso, we approached the ant-eater once again, and hearing us he stopped, turned round, and sat up on his hind legs, but with two of us to deal with he was
at a disadvantage. While I attracted his attention, Francis crept round behind and threw the lasso neatly over him. As soon as he felt the noose tighten once more round him he set off at full tilt,
dragging Francis and myself with him, and for the next half an hour we struggled our way to and fro over the savanna until we managed to get so many loops of rope round the ant-eater’s body
and legs that he could not move. Then trussing him up with an extra length of fine twine to make sure, we pushed him into one of the big sacks so that only his long head and nose protruded.

We were just congratulating ourselves on having captured him when a fresh difficulty became apparent. When we picked him up in his sack and carried him towards the horses they all decided that,
while they did not mind carrying us, they disapproved strongly of carrying a strange creature in a sack, which was hissing and snuffling in such a fierce manner. For a quarter of an hour we tried
to soothe them, but it was no good. Every time we approached them with the ant-eater they would throw back their heads and shy wildly.

Francis decided that the only thing to do was for me to lead the horse while he walked behind, carrying the ant-eater on his shoulders. I was a bit doubtful as to whether this would be
successful, for we were a great many miles from the ranch and the sun was scorchingly hot, and the ant-eater was no light-weight. However, it seemed to be the only thing to do, so I mounted on my
horse and led Francis’s, while he staggered along behind with our capture on his back. The ant-eater made everything as difficult as possible by wriggling about in his sack, so that it was
extremely uncomfortable to try to carry him. After about an hour we had only progressed a couple of miles across the grass, for every two or three hundred yards Francis was forced to put down the
sack and have a rest.

Eventually, we decided that it would take us about a week to get the ant-eater back to the ranch at this rate, so Francis suggested that my companion, or myself, should remain there with the
ant-eater while the other rode with him to the out-station, a distant speck on the horizon which he pointed out to us. Here, he assured us, we would get something called a ‘draftball’.
As our hunter’s English was none too good, we could not make out what a ‘draftball’ was, but Francis seemed convinced that it was the only way out of our difficulties, so my
companion stayed with the ant-eater in the shade of a small bush while Francis and I galloped off across the grass towards the out-station.

When we arrived there, we found a charming old Indian in charge who gave us a most welcome cup of coffee. Then Francis took me outside and showed me the ‘draftball’. It was in fact a
draught bull, that is to say, a bull that is used for carrying loads or pulling carts in certain parts of the world.

Francis’s wife then appeared on the scene and Francis told me that she would ride the bull out on to the savanna while we galloped on ahead on our horses. This tiny Indian woman jumped up
on to the enormous bull’s back and sat there side-saddle, her long black hair hanging down to her waist, so that she looked rather like Lady Godiva. Then she gave the bull a whack on the rump
with a large stick and he set off at a brisk trot over the grasslands.

When Francis and I arrived back at the place where we had left my friend and the ant-eater, we found that the ant-eater had succeeded in making things difficult for us. He had managed to climb
halfway out of his sack, which was now hanging round his hind quarters like a pair of rather baggy trousers, and he was scuttling to and fro across the grass hotly pursued by my friend. We caught
and pushed him into a new sack and tied him up even more securely, while my friend recounted the difficulties he had undergone during our absence.

Apparently, first of all his horse, which we thought was securely tied up, had suddenly wandered off across the grass and my friend had pursued it for quite a long time before he managed to
catch it. When he got back, he found the ant-eater had succeeded in wriggling free of some of his cords and had ripped open the sack with his claws and was half out of it. My friend, frightened
that he might escape, rushed forward, pushed him back into the sack and tied him up once again. When he looked round he found that his horse had seized the opportunity to wander away once more.