In the land of Anteaters and Sloths

One perception all volunteers living in the Comarca quickly make is that Ngabe's like to kill nearly all living animals. This is hard to get used to, especially when it comes to the killing of endangered animals. To give credit where it's due, though, I must admit that most animals are killed for food. Iguana, paca, agouti, armadillo, peccary, "conejo pintado", river shrimp, squirrels and a whole host of birds are hunted with nothing more than slingshots and good dogs. All the animals are delicious (even iguana). Additionally, a friend of mine living on the Caribbean coast complains of people hunting endangered sea turtles.

Animals are also killed for prevention and, unfortunately, fun. We call that "por gusto" here. The hummingbird they killed was a lucky shot from a slingshot. The possum was killed because (i'm told) they kill chickens. In a land of such rampant and effective killing you can understand my surprise when I encountered animals as large as an anteater and a sloth.

The anteater was shown to me by my fourteen-year-old host brother, Cuchinto, after he nearly beat it to death with a stick. I was impressed with the first anteater I've ever seen -it reminded me of a wolverine or small bear because it was muscular and visibly strong. The family's two best hunting dogs encountered it slurping ants out of the ground and decided to attack. Bad idea. The anteater quickly slashed its sharp claws and nearly killed both dogs. I was upset to see the kids playing with the suffering animal when I asked Cuchinto, "why are you killing it?" "For revenge" he said.

Cuchinto on the left with his cousin playing with the anteater

More recently I was shown to a sloth inching it's way along a branch quite high in a tree. Cuchinto, determined to make things more exciting, climbed up and shook the sloths branch until it fell from the tree. The kids surrounded the sloth and picked him up by placing stick in his hands to grab onto, which he did (see picture). He seemed to be fine from the fall. The kids played with him for a while before he escaped up a tree. I asked, "you're not going to kill it?" "no", they said, "they don't bother anyone."

Just after falling from the tree the sloth grabbed a stick Cuchinto put into his lap

A few days after this encounter I returned home from a hike to a neighboring community and found a rotting sloth carcass in the middle of the path. At home, Cuchinto's twelve-year-old brother, Pepo, asked if I saw the dead sloth. I nodded. He puffed his chest and bragged that he had killed it. "Why?" I asked. "I don't know. Por gusto," he replied.

Happy 11/11/11.