Whenever I see a bucket set beside a fisherman, I
just can't help but look in.
This time, I was pleasantly rewarded. Swimming around a battered plastic
bucket were two small fish, not more then five inches long. They were going at
tremendous speed, whizzing around as if to find a way out. But it was only when
I looked closer that I noticed the species of these fish. Their bulky bodies,
short fins, black bellies and underhanging lower lip lined with vicious teeth.
The fishermen’s catch were the scourge of South America -- piranhas.
He held me back with his arm and
muttered something in Portuguese. Brenda translated it as "they
jump!" and promptly moved to have a look herself. We were by a pool about
an hour’s ride from the fazenda. A lone fisherman
sat alone by the pool where piranha were trapped by the dry season. He already
had two and would get up and go home when he had caught five. Piranha, though
boney, make good eating in these parts.
He ran into the fisherman and his catch
whilst on one of the best excursions from Pousada Aguape. The fazenda is a working ranch. Zebu (cattle) are raised here to be sold to other
ranches for breeding purposes (with a few shipped off for the dinner table).
The place is run by fazendeiros (cowboys) who spend their lives on horseback. One afternoon, they were
to take me, the Mexican couple, and a red-faced South African called Crispin on
a wildlife spot in the surrounding countryside. As the pousada is a working ranch
the stables were not far away and we were each given horses to ride. I had
never been horseback riding. It can't be that difficult, can it? My first
problem is that my feet were too big to fit into the stirrups. Cue much
hilarity, as I had to take off my boots, leave them behind, and swing on top of
the horse in my socks.
Leading us was a young Matto Grosson on a dappled horse and an "old
hand". Pousada Aguape has been rearing cattle for 150 years and has only
recently diversified into tourism, and the "old hand" looked like he
had spent most of those 150 years riding horses. I have to say he was great. He
looked like something out of a Zane Grey novel, with a wonderfully grizzled
appearance, cowboy boots, and a bristling white moustache. He would bring up
the rear and ride the same speed as the slowest (usually me!), and of course,
didn't speak a word of English.
We then rode out of the farm gate, through the horse and zebu paddocks,
and out onto the savannah. I've never ridden before and was assured that this
was no problem, and luckily, the horse was on "automatic". I was
rather surprised by how much I enjoyed it. It was, thankfully, rather easy --
keep my bootless feet in the stirrups, don't pull on the bridle, and if you
want to move faster, lightly tap the horse on the backside. We formed a sort of
party, with the young Matto Grossan in front, followed of course by safari-boy
Crispin, the Mexican couple, then me. We pushed on through the savannah, not
seeing much, but the experience was very relaxing. Certainly, if there were any
animals out there, they would not be put off by any engine noise or crunching
footsteps. I didn't feel stuck or trapped, and it was nice to experience the
mode of travel my ancestors would have used. I was even given a straw hat to
keep off the sun. I truly did look like "Hopalong Cassidy".
Then it was through forest, savannah
and exposed water meadows. Carlos mentioned that you could tell that these
grassy meadows were under water for most of the year. You could almost see the
mark on the trees where the water level is during the rainy season. But in
September, everything had dried out, and only a few dry waterholes were left.
We found one with a piranha fisherman and about ten jacare lounging on the bank
sunning themselves. We used the opportunity here to dismount, drink cold water,
and put on insect repellant. I had to be very careful of snakes just being in
my socks. Then it was back on the horses and back onto the savannah, and I had
to concentrate on keeping up. Occasionally, I fell behind and had to lightly
tap the posterior of my mount for it to trot back to the others. The bouncing
motion of the horse made my teeth rattle.
Egrets and eagles were spotted, as well as massive turtles sunning
themselves. Near the road, we came into the range of a pair of mated blue
macaws high up in the branches. Blue macaws are exceptional, and this pair
squawked so aggressively, I'm sure their little egos thought they had driven us
off. One more thing on the road was a flattened armadillo -- someone hadn't
seen it cross at night. Then it was back through the paddocks to the stables.
As we approached, there was only one thing on my mind..
My boots! They are still there! They haven't been chewed by zebu! Now
all I have to do is work out how to get down off this horse...
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