Tuesday, 9 November 2010
Don’t swallow when you are told that piranhas can eat you on a dish.
So far, I saw only one single picture of such horror show and four friends on a small boat played secondary role and the captain was the star.
They had had a happy fishing morning under the humid and hot Amazon climate when they opted for taking a break. On the way, the engine stops! Machines break too!
Another crew member checks damages made by Pink Dolphins and Piranhas on the net at the sounding of a knife in use at the stern that joins melancholic calls of Anis, caracaras and flycatchers.
With the precision of a surgeon the captain makes it run again. He rubs out the black blood from his hand with a piece of cloth previously used in sorts of the same surgery. Meanwhile his new boat mate was just docking at the river bank.
It wasn’t the captain’s favorite spot.
The captain was eager to enjoy a fresh fish meal and a compulsory equatorial siesta. The engine was at rest and between spinning the engine handle again and move the boat with a stick from the hot roof to his favorite tree, he decides for the latter.
With his feet soles literally burning on the tinned top, he moves the boat some five meters up.
The best medicine when you are extremely wet of sweat, your hands dirty of diesel and your feet burning like a match is a deep dip into the Amazon. But the captain never read the prescription fully.
At the bottom, the only side effect listed was: Don’t take it if you have schools of piranhas eating rest of fish below. It may kill you.
The captain was held by the muddy like a steak on a fork. No cure!
The boat’s name was B/M Piranha. Isn’t ironic?
Posted by Gil Serique: Culture, Windsurf & Wildlife In the Amazon at 05:14