In the early hours Molly and Jonathan both woke abruptly at a loud, metallic snapping sound. It was followed by the terrified cry of an animal. It sounded close.
Neither slept properly after that, as they lay listening, and waiting for first light. They stayed as still and quiet as they could. Jonathan tried to gauge where the sound had come from, so he could investigate in the morning.
Dawn was a huge relief. They quickly ate the last of their bread for breakfast and packed up. Jonathan wanted to find where the sound had come from, but they would have to leave their riverside trail. They left their backpacks and walked into the dense jungle. It was hard walking and climbing through the trees and undergrowth, but they tried to keep going straight ahead as much as possible. Molly counted her steps and at every 15th step she tied pink cord to a solid branch to mark where they went. She checked that from each mark she could see the previous one.
“Like a Hansel and Gretel breadcrumb trail,” she said.
They hadn’t gone far when they came across a horrific sight. On the ground were five or six traps; metal cages with spring-loaded doors. The traps were partly covered by foliage but still clearly visible, and they saw three more hanging on low branches. Next to the trap nearest them, on the ground, was a pile of brightly colored feathers from a large parrot. They were stained with blood.
They walked in a little and Molly screamed. In front of her, in one of the traps, was the body of a little jaguar cub, partly decomposed. The door of the trap had severed its back leg, and the cub must have bled to death. It was one of the saddest things Molly had ever seen. Her beloved jaguars, and this one just a cub.
There were footprints around the trap of what could only be an adult jaguar, some still marked with the blood of the little cub, as though the adult had circled the helpless baby. Molly felt the pain of both animals; the frustration, the endless circling. For what? She didn’t know what to do and wondered whether or not to bury the little body.
She was fixed to the spot in shock, so Jonathan walked further in and took photographs of the site. There were far more traps than they had seen at first. He was thankful they were empty. The whole area had a horrible feel and some of the traps looked old. This was not a new ‘installation’.
Then, in the low branches of a tree, he saw one of the traps contained a live captive. It was a little monkey, the same as the inquisitive ones they had seen the day before. It seemed terrified, and its foot was badly injured. Maybe this was the trap they had heard the night before. Jonathan reached up and opened the door, being careful that it didn’t spring shut on his own arm. The little animal darted out immediately and clung to him. He clasped it to his chest and walked back to Molly, whispering reassuring sounds to the frightened animal.
Molly pulled out a small towel and wrapped it over the little monkey, which was clinging to Jonathan like a baby to its mother.
Jonathan had taken countless photographs of the tragic area, and they both wanted to get back to the trail. At first, they decided to leave everything as they had found it. There was something happening here that felt dangerous, not only to the jungle, but to them. Then Molly had an idea. She went up to each of the traps she could get to and carefully pushed the bait out through the wires with her sapling walking stick. Then she nudged each cage to make the trap doors snap shut.
They had come across some of the same fruits they had seen in the Chullachaqui garden, not the same bright yellow, but the same fruit. She pulled them out of her satchel and took a small bite from each. Then she dropped the partly eaten fruit near the traps. If anyone wondered who, or what, had closed the traps, they may be fooled into thinking it was the jungle guardians, the feared Chullachaqui.
She picked up one of the pieces of bait, wrapped it carefully, and tucked it away. She wanted to find out what it was. It had obviously not been eaten by insects, but it must be appealing to different types of animals and birds. They picked their way back to the trail following the marks they had left with the pink cords, careful to remove each one as they went.
Back at the river, Molly produced a tiny jar of honey from her satchel and some bandages. She washed the monkey’s wounded foot with fresh water, dried the wound and applied the honey. She wrapped it carefully in a bandage, and then with a waterproof wrapping to make sure no insects could get in.
Then she pulled out a long-sleeved shirt and tied the animal to Jonathan in a makeshift sling. The little monkey gazed into Jonathan’s eyes as if it knew it had avoided either a horrible death in the trap or something even worse if the hunter had returned while it was still alive. She pulled out a small banana, again from the satchel, and offered it to the little monkey.
“What have you got in that bag? It’s like the bottomless magic bag the Felix cat cartoon character carried.”
“Water, handkerchief, long-sleeved shirt, first aid, all sorts of bits and pieces. Oh, and a bag of almonds. Always travel with nuts.”
“Yes, and we are the nuts, huh?” joked Jonathan.
They picked up their backpacks and were off again along the trail that followed the river. As they walked, they talked in low voices about what could be happening. Jamie had said that nobody lived in this isolated part of the jungle, and no one officially used it for resources. But there were certainly some people busy with something.
They walked carefully and watched all around them, not only for their own safety but also for any other signs of human activity. One part of the river looked like it had been made into a rough landing spot for a canoe or small boat. At the corner of a large tributary there were signs of a camp, with a fire made of stones. They found a small pile of garbage that had obviously been left by the campers. Molly wanted to get out of the area as soon as possible. Jonathan, as usual, took photographs of everything, and jotted down notes.