Writings By Phil

June 12, 1978

The Rio Hediondo (Stinky River) was a remote area of jungle made easily accessible only by the construction of an airstrip. Without the airplane, the journey would be a long one on a crowded bus or hitchhiking to secure a space in the back of a truck or motorcycle, all for a fee, of course! Once we arrived at the Rio Ichilo, it would be a tedious cruise down the big river and up the smaller Stinky River to home. Flying was our preferred mode of transportation.

We lived simply, in rustic houses made mostly of jungle materials: logs, mud, split palm and maybe some bamboo. All our houses had corrugated tin roofs. That, of course, came in by boat or plane from the city. A tin roof was desirable over a thatched one because it made it possible to catch rainwater in barrels to use for drinking, doing dishes, brushing teeth and such.

We stapled wire screen to all the windows. Inside the house, we fastened yards of nylon burlap to the ceiling and walls. These deterrents were used to block the entry of insects, rodents and snakes.

Despite our best efforts, intruders still breeched the barriers and came inside. Some made themselves at home, hiding from us during daylight hours. One, I called Nighty Mouse because it came out every night to wreak havoc in our kitchen. It chewed holes in papayas, tomatoes, bags of sugar, and anything else that was edible. It was a smart little rodent, too. Whatever it chewed the night before, if we put that on the trap the following night, it would not touch it. Matt Castagna and I were getting frustrated by being outsmarted by a little mouse! 

I had what I thought was a brilliant idea after one of our married coworkers reported that they had left a dishpan full of water on the counter overnight. In the morning, they found a mouse, dead by drowning, floating in the water. For whatever reason, it had fallen in, but could not climb the steep sides back to safety.

Mouse traps were not working so we had to be creative. That night I filled a dishpan with water. Our little thief liked bananas; I knew. Using a strong string I hung a fruit hand over the water. I then tied a long line to the short string and draped it over the rafters and the wire that held up the curtains separating our sleeping area from our living area. The idea was that when we heard Nighty Mouse chewing on the fruit, we would give a swift, but gentle, tug on the rope. The lurch of the little guy’s hanging banquet would surprise and dislodge him. My hoped for result was that it would fall into the water and drown.

That night, I stayed up later than normal. I read my book by the flickering light of a candle. The air was still, the only sound, an incessant symphony played by an orchestra of jungle insects and frogs. Through the din from outside, I heard a slight rustle inside the house, somewhere on the far side of the room. I looked up to see Nighty Mouse sneaking out from behind our crude kitchen cabinet. It paused only for a moment, then sprinted along the wall log, jumped to the window screen, crossed it, and sprang through the air to land on the bananas. I waited until the rodent began to shred the peel with its teeth, exposing the good stuff, before I called Matt who was behind the curtain.

“Matt!” I whispered as loud as I dared. “Matt, pull the string!”

I guess I failed to mention to Matt that it was supposed to be a gentle jerk of the string. He yanked it so hard that the bananas and their passenger were launched into orbit! The fruit abruptly stopped, reaching the end of the string with a loud thwack. This arrested momentum blasted the mouse almost to the ceiling. The rodent did uncontrolled cartwheels and summersaults as it sailed through the air. Its little body didn’t even come close to falling in the dishpan. Instead, it landed in the middle of the dirt floor. Befuddled, it sat there collecting its wits for a few seconds. I saw the light from my candle reflected in its black eyes. In that instant of uncertainty, that little vermin’s normal beady eyes were truly bug-eyed! Upon regaining its composure, it fled to the safety of the corner cabinet.

Conventional mouse traps failed to catch it. My thinking outside the box became a laughingstock, but didn’t solve the problem. An unsanitary little creature was still free to brazenly run all over our food stuff! We needed a final solution, fast! Continued failure made drastic measures plausible.

The next night, Matt loaded his .22 caliber revolver with bird shot. He placed the gun on a side table where it was handy. If either of us was awake the next time our mouse guest got hungry, we would know what to do!

I stayed up reading again. It was not long before the mouse came out of hiding and jumped on the bananas. I guessed it had forgotten all about the big fright we gave it the night before. I picked up the pistol, aimed through the darkness and squeezed the trigger

The night silence was shattered by the gun’s report. When I rushed across the room, the mouse was gone. Had I missed it? I saw that a few BBs hit the bananas, but the shot pattern showed that most of the pellets perforated the screen behind them. I was disappointed. I blamed the darkness for my miss, but illumination by flashlight always made the mouse scurry for the darkness, so wasn’t an option.

On inspecting the counter, though, I found a spot of blood close to the cabinet. I pulled back the front curtain and began poking the log wall through the plastic that sealed the back of the shelves. It wasn’t long before Nighty Mouse tried to retreat back across the countertop. My shot had deposited at least one BB into it’s body. Mortally wounded, its escape was slow and futile. Matt, waiting with his revolver and a flashlight, put the mouse out of its misery with one shot.

Nighty Mouse was dead!  I almost felt bad about its demise. It was a tragic end for a smart little fellow. 

This story was from the category Tales From Green Hell. If you would like to read more of my experiences in the jungles of Bolivia, please click on that link below.

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• Uncategorized (1)