An unexpected visitor in the Highlands of Guyana

by Keith Fey (South Africa)

I didn't expect to find Guyana

Dusk creeps into my veins, overloading my senses this evening in Kopinang high up in these jungles of Guyana. I am on a six week adventure into these highland jungles so far from home on the other side of the world in Africa. High above the tree canopy some one hundred foot up, faint stars of the Amazon twinkle. Bats sound their rhythmic clicks. All the other explorers drift off to sleep in their hammocks under a makeshift green tarpaulin tent, leaving me alone to my thoughts. I am revelling in this adventure. Switching off a small generator, the lights fade then stutter into darkness. Instantly I am plagued by swarms of insects hovering into my headlamp, Night suddenly becomes very tangible, not so much black, but a velvet shroud of gunmetal blue. From out of the dark shadows my headlamp picks up the reflections of frogs eyes, and looking up into the high canopy overhead, thousands of little green sparks of "candle flies" appear. I love this Amerindian phrase, they almost light up the trees like Christmas lights, at times looking like falling stars. My camp becomes a universe of sounds. Everything within this fantastic realm makes a noise. Click, buzz,creak, tap, rattle, scrape and quiver. Soon my ears become attuned to this crescendo and I begin to make out individual frog calls. Over there is a very deep throated toad, and there by the Itameleng creek, the higher pitched peeping comes from some reeds. Suddenly all the frogs stop. Deathly still. Now whats that? Ever so faintly I can almost feel a shadow moving in the forest just beyond my canvas shelter. A soft rustling. Then the silent form blends in with the dark backstage of forest, slinking nearer, step by cautious step. I tense. So carefully not to make any sudden movement or sounds myself, taking forever it seems, i swivel in my hammock reaching out for the big torch. Leaves rustle. Sticks click. Inch by silent inch I turn to face the approaching form and switch on my torch. Jaguar! Frozen still. Its eye reflecting off my shaking hand held torch. A jaguar! Time and space are transfixed as we eye each other. Then lowering its head it takes in large sniffs of the night air. Not a sound, just the two of us on our very own in this jungle night. Never could I have imagined in my most optimistic dreams meeting a wild jaguar. This free spirit in a flashing golden blur turns and in a single bound, glides off beyond the forest curtain. The stage is empty. How long has it been. eternity it seems, in reality perhaps fifteen seconds of frozen time. The forest chorus returns. Perhaps no one else has ever set eyes on this jaguar, my jaguar. Maybe I am the first of my kind it has encountered? This rare fleeting moment has passed, now i lie here in my hammock, under the dark velvet night, my heart thumping in my chest, with these insects and frogs for company, and everyone else asleep. In several days I will be home. Or is jungle my real home? Whatever it is, I shall always remember my special Jaguar of Kopinang, Guyana.