After such an unforgettable time at Madre Selva, it was time to move on to Santa Cruz. I couldn’t imagine that any place could top Madre Selva. Collectively, the group had already found over sixty species of herps, but past trips to both research stations have netted over one hundred species. Could we too hit that mark?
Another boat ride, this time back up the Amazon and a return to the rum distillery for lunch. I noticed the family in the very intimate process of building their new boat and in my limited Spanish, asked about the process. I was told that they used all local materials, including “la brea”, or tar, used to seal the seams. I was floored to witness this.
Since it was the middle of the day by the time we reached Santa Cruz, we took it easy and stayed around the station. Matt Ignoffo grabbed his fancy microfishing setup and tried his hand at catching some of the small fish we could see in the site’s pond. After quickly catching a small wolf fish, he was unsuccessful bringing anything else in. I used his long-handled net and swept the banks as best as I could with nothing but a few tiny tetras to show for it. We could see small cichlids swimming around and I wanted to catch one in order to identify it. The sun was directly overhead and the heat was oppressive.
That’s when this young girl showed up - and showed us up. She was a daughter of the facility’s caretaker. Around twelve years of age, she began yanking cichlid after cichlid out of that pond using nothing but a stick, some string, and a hook with a bit of worm on the end. She wore a big smile on her face knowing full well she was embarrassing this group of white idiots. I like cichlids a lot, but I’m not an expert by any stretch. These might have been Cichlasoma amazonarum, or the Amazon cichlid.
That night, as we prepared for our first night of herping at Santa Cruz, some members of the group began displaying some concern that no one had seen a bushmaster (Lachesis muta) yet, and lamenting the idea that it may not happen on the trip. The bushmaster, known by locals as shushúpe, is a truly iconic snake of the Amazon. It is a light brown snake clad in large, dark, triangular blotches and spends its nights in ambush, appearing very much like a lifeless pile of debris. It is the largest pit viper in the world and the largest venomous snake in the Western Hemisphere, growing to over ten feet in length. With its size come large fangs that deliver an extremely potent venom, though the species isn’t known to be very defensive toward humans. Its bite is usually reserved for its prey, and I can only imagine how many times the sight of a bushmaster’s menacing eyes represented the final moments of life for some small mammal.
I have no shame in admitting that while the prospect of finding a bushmaster excited me, it wasn’t as “do-or-die” as it was for some of the others in the group. I’m a pretty serious snake guy but the allure of the bushmaster hadn’t quite gotten me over the barrel. I mean, I was finding Erythrolamprus. And Helicops. And other super cool snakes that suffer from expectedness. Nevertheless, I felt the pulse that the others shared and it was contagious. Plus, a part of me did not want to spend nearly two weeks in the jungles of Peru and NOT see the mythical shushúpe .
Shawn set a lofty goal of finding one coral snake per day (we had already found two on consecutive nights at Madre Selva) and made it clear that for each day without a coral snake, he would willingly accept a kick in the nuts. So the pressure was on him to deliver.
As in Madre Selva, the herps came full force at Santa Cruz, beginning on night one. While crossing a shallow creek, I spotted an adult Surinam toad (Pipa pipa) in the water, and wouldn't you believe, I did not have my net. Alan tried to catch it by hand which is a futile effort no matter how you look at it, but I had to tip my hat to him. I would proceed to this same stretch of creek each night in hopes of finding the frog again.
Late that evening, everyone met at the main building to kick back with a cold beverage or four and relax in all of our sweaty splendor. I perked up when someone began talking about the “Peruvian face peelers”, because just the sound of that invoked gore. It was time for spooky campfire stories.
Evidently, beginning in July of 2023, horrifying, mysterious creatures were creating havoc in the Loreto region, not far from where we were. These creatures were described as being six feet tall or greater, with elongated heads and glowing yellow eyes. They wore dark hoods and hovered above the ground up to several meters, attacking innocent villagers. In one case, a fifteen-year-old girl was assaulted by a face-peeler and suffered a neck injury while escaping. One community leader stated, “I encountered one up close. His visage was scarcely discernible. I witnessed his entire body suspended about a meter above the ground.” Entire villages were terrified to go outside, especially at night.
Defending against these alien-like creatures proved ineffective. “The aliens seem impervious to harm. I fired at one twice, yet he emerged unscathed and vanished. We are living in constant dread”, lamented the community leader. Reports of immunity to bullets made headlines in Iquitos, where the military geared up to investigate. It would take ten hours by river for the military to reach the village of Haikito, one of the locations of the purported face peelers. After an initial investigation, the military had no answers for the small village. The mystery deepened and the local people were left feeling helpless.
That night, I was lulled to sleep by the rainforest cacophony, hoping that thoughts of a grotesque flying monster wouldn’t mutate into a nightmare.
The following night, I joined Matt & Alan Ignoffo, Mike, and Simon on a jungle excursion. After a few hours, Mike turned his attention to a creature in some vegetation near a large dead tree. I approached to see what it was he was looking at around the same time he called us over. When my eyes locked onto it, I was nearly frozen in place. It was a large, dark creature that appeared as though it were made of flames. From its large head sprouted dark hair longer than its body, and it gnashed its ugly jaws from which it exhaled a putrid stench. Its long, skinny legs sported sharp claws which seemed designed to rip flesh from bone. It stared right at me, but didn’t move. In a fleeting bout of courage, I made the rash decision to make contact with this being. With my body and soul trembling, I offered my hand.
I touched the creature’s body. It was cold. At first, it remained still, offering a glimpse of hope that a solemn connection could be made. But in an instant, the creature lashed out. It began flailing its arms and legs wildly, swinging its claws toward my face. Then it let out a scream like I had never heard before. By now, the entire group was beyond terrified. Our screams echoed through the dark rainforest as we tried to get as far away from this creature as possible. I started to run, and foolishly stopped to look behind me. That’s when I watched this creature rise up and take flight. It began to chase us, wide-eyed, and with outreached claws. I saw my life flash before my eyes and came to grips that this was how I was going to die. A grisly death at the hand of a Peruvian face peeler.
.jpg)
Before I wrap this up, I’m happy to report that we DID find the electric eel. A single fish, confined to an isolated stream bend. It poked the posterior portion of its body out from a submerged burrow in the bank several times, giving us a great perspective of its lifestyle and ancient ways. Spending time with this marvelous animal, deep in the jungle in the depths of the night, really underscored my love of the rainforest and strengthened my commitment to bring awareness to this fascinating place. Humans must find ways of protecting these areas in a time of overpopulation, resource exploitation, and greed. I like to think this is likely, but I have seen some of the worst of humanity.
One way of getting involved is to support Project Amazonas (www.projectamazonas.org). You can also book a trip through them @ MT Amazon Expeditions (www.mtamazon.com). Alternatively, you may book a trip through Christoph Meyer @ “Wildlife Tours Peru” on Facebook. Christoph is super professional and knowledgeable and goes out of his way to ensure that his clients have the time of their lives.
Mike and Alan even wrote a poem about him during our time in the jungle:
“There once was a man named Christoph
Who never once was pissed off
He went to college
To gain rainforest knowledge
Until a caiman took his bits off”
My time in the Peruvian Amazon was up, but I’ll return one day. There is an anaconda with my name on it, lurking just below the surface.
P.S...I can't wrap this up without a few outtakes.
