Tapirs, tarantulas, and the Minister of Tourism

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It´s been an interesting week at El Arca. Firstly we have a new addition. A nightwatchman called Pedro. No-one seems quite sure exactly what it is he´s supposed to be securing - escaping animals? Wild animals? Animal thieves? Escaping volunteers? Whatever his mandate he cuts an unusual figure for a security guard in that he´s, well, really really short. To give you an idea, he´s shorter even that Javier, one of the Ecuadorian workers, whose colleagues habitually refer to him as ´The Dwarf´. Nonetheless, Pedro patrols with gusto and a large torch every evening, and so far all is well.

Since Monday we´ve been building a new enclosure to house a bird I am unable to identify above and beyond 'it´s large and it´s blue'. Rusillo, the mother of the family who own El Arca maintains that it sings beautifully, and I suppose it does, providing your idea of beautiful is a noise that could shatter glass at a thousand yards. Anyway, we´ve almost finished, and I must admit to a certain sense of achievement, considering we did it all from scratch, totally unaided. Much machete action in the jungle - very Ray Mears.

We´d have finished sooner save for the fact fact that on tuesday morning we were called away to sweep paths and generally give the place an air of respectability, in expectation of the arrival of the Ecuadorian Minister of Tourism. She was due at 3pm, but about 12.45 it was suddenly 'She´ll be here in half an hour!!' Finally she pulled up at 2.30. She was whisked away again within an hour.

On Wednesday morning after the kind of rest only possible under the watchful eye of Pedro, I was asked to join the Ecuadorian guys in a spot of ´Tapir wrangling´. A gentleman such as myself would normally frown upon such recreations, but I was assured the whole business had a purpose so I agreed. In fact this was tapir wrangling Mk II. The same had been attempted the previous day with limited, or to be more accurate, no success. To paint the picture... all of the animals that come here stay in quarantine for a few weeks than get moved to enclosures. It was this transfer that the Tapir was to undergo. Mk I involved the Tapir (obviously), three men and a rope. It was barely out of the quarantine building when it broke free and spent 45 minutes happily swimming around in a pond before ending up back where it had started. So, now for Mk II. Having learned from the debacle of Tuesday, Wednesday´s operation had been upgraded to involve the (albeit wholly unwilling) Tapir, five men, two ropes and a large quantity of bread rolls. Things began well. The bread rolls were successfully employed to lure the Tapir from its pen. They were also successfully employed to lure it from five other empty pens it insisted on exploring on the way out. Once in the open the beast clearly had no more interest in bread rolls and despite the five men and two ropes it galloped (if that´s the right word for it) off down the path while we jogged behind it. Fortunately it was galloping in the directio of its new enclosure, so our efforts to stop it were minimal. As we neared the critical location we managed to slow it down and had it within a whisker of the gate when it bolted for the forest. We would have lost it entirely had not the dwarf (you remember him) had the presence of mind in a calm moment to put one of the ropes round a post. Not wishing to upset the creature, we gave it a few minutes to calm down, and Raul began petting it on the side of the neck. It seems his technique was not to the Tapir´s liking however, as this well meant affection had the effect of stirring the animal to charge violently towards the dwarf, who leapt aside with the merest of moments to spare. After fifteen minutes, the death of a number of saplings, and two further attempts to kill the dwarf, the Tapir strolled out of the forest, and over to its enclosure. It still wasn´t inside though, and after even the bread rolls were forced to admit defeat, it came to four men pushing and one pulling to get the job done. I think to be honest the Tapir acquiesced.

Afer work that day, Meriel, one of the other volunteers noticed a young tarantula crawling along beside the volunteer house. It was about the diameter of a golf ball, and was possessed of that slow, charming tarantula gait. I lay a gloved hand down for it to walk onto, and it did so. It´s next move was slightly more unexpected though. With a turn of speed I´d totally failed to foresee, it shot straight up my arm and disappeared into my t-shirt. Hmmm.... I must confess I was at a loss as to the best course of action, and as I felt it strolling across my armpit I could think only that agitating it was probably inadvisable, in light of the fact that I had no idea what species, how venomous, or how aggressive it was. While the arachnid made it´s way round to my back, Emma, another volunteer appeared. 'What´s going on?' she enquired. 'Andy´s got a tarantula in his t-shirt.' was the response. 'Oh.' she said, with a facial expression that began with surprise, moved quickly to horror, and then decided to settle on ´that´s actually quite funny because it´s happening to somebody else.´ Meanwhile I maintained a posture describable only as ´flacid crucifixion´and was beginning to give serious thought to my options, when to my delight, I felt the hairy little bugger crawl down my lower back and drop out onto the ground. I resolved to restrain my attempts to befriend adolescent tarantulas in the future.

That´s all for now. Have fun all.

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