XIV. Rumble in the Jungle, Part Two

I kept my hand raised, holding the girls in check, as I waited for another sound. I knew there was something out there in the bush. I just didn’t know what it might be.


On a trek earlier in the week, during a lunch break while the travelers were relaxing, I decided to do a little exploring on my own. I went down a trail I had never been before. As a jungle guide, I would warn the travelers from going off into the jungle alone. There were too many opportunities for something to go wrong, for a person to get hurt. To have a buddy with you was just common sense. Being The Jungle Guide, of course, I was immune from such common sense.

One side of the trail dropped off sharply into a deep ravine. I couldn’t tell how deep, the bush was too thick. I looked over the edge, trying to get some sense of it, when I heard a crunch. It was a slight sound and far off. It was probably a falling branch, but it just might have been an animal. I decided to wait around and see.

There was another crunch. This time it was closer. Then another. And then more. It wasn’t falling branches. The sounds multiplied, crunching louder, crunching closer. The air filled with the reek of animal. My heart started racing, blood pounding in my ears. For all I knew, it could have been a herd of elephants. I backed away from the edge and crouched down behind a tree. If it was a herd of elephants, and they suddenly found me in the middle of nowhere, they could startle, and God knows what they might do.

Hundreds of crunches spread throughout the ravine, just below the ridge. I was surrounded by the sounds. Then, up over the rim they came: eighty, ninety, maybe a hundred monkeys ─ macaques ─ chattering, running, jumping, and tumbling. I held my breath and stayed absolutely still. I didn’t want to scare them off. In the midst of all the ruckus, I sensed something next to me. I turned slowly and looked down. It was a fuzzy, wide-eyed, baby macaque, standing stock-still, staring up at me. He didn’t seem frightened or confused. He just seemed curious. I held out my hand like I was offering him food. He came up and sniffed. I opened my hand. He jumped back, and then slowly returned. He poked at my palm for a little while and then he climbed on and crawled up my arm. I slowly stood up. He sat on my shoulder and looked around as if surveying his realm. After he had enough of that, he climbed around the back of my neck to my other shoulder. I extended my arm out and he crawled to my other hand, lounging in my palm.

I heard a growl and it was then that I saw his mother. Macaques are not large animals, but Mom was huge. Her chest was puffed out and her lips were curled back, revealing two very sharp fangs. I slowly backed away, gently lowering her baby to the ground, gibbering sounds that I thought might soothe an angry monkey, but she wasn’t buying it. Once Mom saw he was safe, she came tearing after me. I turned and ran, but she was too fast. She leaped onto my calf and took a bite. I fell to the ground, yelling and kicking wildly, trying to get her off. I managed to shake her loose, then I jumped up and ran away. After about a half a kilometer or so, I looked back for the first time, expecting hundreds of angry macaques coming after me. They were long gone, so I stopped to check my calf. It wasn’t a deep wound really, just a graze. I rinsed it off at a nearby stream and made a mental note to buy some anti-biotic cream. I also thought it a good idea to bring along somebody on my next jaunt, if for nothing else but to remind me not to play with the animals.


Back on the trail with the Danes, my ears listening for any sound, my eyes searching for any movement, my nostrils flared open for any scent, my safari hat cocked at a rakish angle. We waited…

Nothing. We moved on, maybe ten steps, then Tcht! Alright, I thought, there was definitely some animal out there and it could be anything. We would wait as long as we had to. Then, out of nowhere, Hehehe!

What was the hell was that? It seemed to be coming from behind me. Again, Hehehe!

I turned around very slowly to find… the Danish girls. Their hands were over their mouths, barely restraining themselves from giggling. “What’s so funny?” I asked.

“You stop every time we throw away a banana peel, then you sniff around like a… a mouse. Here, look,” one of the girls threw a peel off into the bush, Tcht!

They all burst out laughing. I took off my hat. It just didn’t seem to fit right anymore.