Hunter

The sun hung low on the horizon when I left the village that morning, the birdsong had just begun and the jungle was just starting to stir. I crossed the river, a tributary of the Amazon, that bordered our village. Following the familiar path I had taken with my older brother years before. Our people hunted far from the village it was difficult to carry our prey back but it kept the villagers safe from predators who would follow the scent of a fresh kill. I moved quickly over the familiar ground jumping roots that have stuck up from the ground since my grandfather's time. The canopy left my path dark as dawn barely shed her light upon the world, but I knew my way well and did not falter even as I began to run, eager to reach my goal.

The sun was higher as I reached the clearing the ground covered in a thick layer of fog as the heat reached the field, the village would be waking now, small children and elders just waking to warm morning meals. I readied my bow, arrow hitched on the string I waited for the grazing animals to move into the glad drawn by the soft grass still wet with last night's dew. The sun rose into the sky as I sat unmoving in my solitude, the spear at my back began to weigh on me after about an hour into my wait. The animals must be slow to rise for the field to not be filled with them even as the fog was burned away.

I was about to adjust myself when in the distance I saw a young calf enter the clearing, to my dismay it was too far to reach with my arrows. Other villages had called us fools for not trading with the white settlers and taking advantage of their advanced weapons. In moments like this, I imagine a gun would easily reach its mark. However, it would also frighten away any other game and should I miss that would put me at a loss for the day. My bow and spear held a much better chance of catching my dinner and it had worked for the hunters in my village for generations. I continued with my adjustment finding a comfortable position to release the burning tension in my legs, my movements were silent even the calf did not hear me. I was still for a moment when I heard a branch snap behind me.

I turned just in time for the jaguar to pounce on my bow instead of my back, with a snap my bow was broken in two and I was forced out of the underbrush and into the clearing. I rolled as far from the tree line as possible before grabbing the spear from my back, crouched and ready I scanned the trees and underbrush looking for that which now hunted me. I heard the rustling of leaves overhead and readied my spear to block the attack watching the overhead branches when out of the corner of my eye I saw the animal dash from the underbrush straight at me. I jumped to the side just as the beast launched off the ground barely missing my head with its massive claws. The jaguar in all its beauty stood not ten paces from me staring at me as it lowered itself to the ground waiting for another chance to make the hunter its prey. I lowered myself spear at the ready, if this creature leaped again it would be its end. We stood there for what seemed like days both of us facing down death, and then it happened. The creature sprang his movements and mine a blur, I heard the beast call out once as it took me to the ground, heavy paws on my shoulders, I felt the animal's breath against my neck as life left its muscles.

After a moment I pushed the large carcass off of me, looking at the beast at my feet I felt little pride and plenty of shame. This animal had not been so different from me, a hunter trying to catch his next meal. I sent a prayer to the jungle guardians for the jaguar's spirit then I tied the animal with my ropes and began my long walk back to the village. I reached home shortly after the sun left its highest point in the sky, the village held a moment of silence for the sacred jaguar that had been our tribe's symbol of strength for generations. Our eldest women took the body to her hut to bless and prepare it as was the custom for such a holy animal.

Before sunset, the skin of the jaguar hung amidst the other pelts of great warrior animals around the shrine where we pay tribute to their strength and honor their natures. The bones of the animal, instead of being used for tools, were cleaned and buried under the shrine. To this day I go to the shrine and remember, it was almost sixty years ago that I battled that beautiful creature, and still I pay my respect to the warrior I almost lost my life to in that open field.

~memoir of an ancient hunter.

Excerpt from "Memoirs"

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Excerpt from "Memoirs"