Huzefa & Reena Mehta
The first time I heard a Howler, my heart leapt into my throat and stuck there; which is just a euphemism for the truth -- that my testicles retracted up into my torso, which not all of my readers may relate to, or indeed, approve of my speaking of in public. I suppose that both my throat and my torso were full of vital organs at that point, and I suspect that my eyes were saucers and my palms clammy.
Myself and Reena have broken a few
rules. And here we were in
The first time we heard a howler, we were standing on the ledge of the
ruined Mayan temple atop Pyramid V (that's 'five') at
It sounded very much to me like the howl of a jaguar that someone had by the balls (perhaps this explains my physical reaction). I've never seen a jaguar in the wild, but this sounded like a tiger in extreme distress. That's a really scary thought; what could there be -- out there in the dark rustle of the jungle -- that could make a jaguar cry out like that, like something had it by the balls and was squeezing very hard and not letting go?
Reena crept closer in my arms secure under the false sense of bravado I was
projecting.
Shivers, chilly sweat, and erect hair follicles appeared on the back of my
neck. Somewhere in the vicinity of my jugular, my heart throbbed.
What the hell is out there? And what can it do to a goddamn
jaguar that it can't do to us!? We had just crawled through half a mile
of jungle on our bellies -- across the 'steam bath' section of ruins at
So there we stood -- having crawled under a wire fence and through the dark
jungle as others consulted a torch-lit map, then scrambling up through the
roots of giant trees and over countless blocks of ancient carved stones -- atop
the Pyramid of Temple V, shrouded still in the canopy of the jungle and
overlooking the distant manicured padang of the great plaza of Tikal, to
the north.
We stood on that narrow ledge beside the temple atop the crumbling pyramid,
looking out through the tree-tops across the vague rustling darkness of the
Central American jungle. In fact, it was 190 feet straight down to the jungle
floor, somewhere down there in the dark dankness; and we were standing on a
one-and-a-half-foot wide ledge, leaning over it like it was a doorsill. After a
brief peek into the darkness, my back and palms were pressed respectfully hard
against the smooth stone walls of the temple, and my scrotum had shrunken
considerably in size; maybe it was the cool breeze.
It was at about that time that I heard it, the Saraguate. From
somewhere out there in the distant depths of the swaying jungle, the male Black
Howler Monkey raised its magnificent brachiating roar across the tree-tops, and
it sounded to me like a very large jungle cat in the throes of excruciating
pain. What is out there?
The black howler male may reach a size of only up to about 35 pounds --
fairly large for monkeys, although most are somewhat smaller. But its
roar is amplified by its large throat-box and by hyper-ventilation. His howl is
of course his macho claim of dominance over territory and of all the females
therein.
The howler's roar rises gradually out of the depths of the jungle. At first
it is a low distant growling rumble that begins to reverberate above the normal
rustling and chirping of the jungle; then it becomes a heavy rhythmic gasping
in and out, like an emphysemiac on his last legs. Then the rhythm gathers pace
and volume and a depth that sounds like it could only come from the great lungs
of a large predator. That's when the guttural power of his roar starts the
sweat running down the back of your shorts. Then he digs his nails into a
branch, he rolls back his lips and screams like a banshee foretelling the death
of heroes. That's the blood-curdling scream that sent my gonads into full
retreat.
It was not until after, over a beer the next afternoon, that someone told me
of the black howlers. "No jaguars around here, mate, not recently
anyways. It was only a goddamn monkey!"
In the light of day, the black howlers are a pleasant and presentable tribe
of social monkeys, and I have enjoyed their antics on several riversides and
jungle clearings in
Along the upper reaches of the Amazon of Peru, we have also seen and heard
the red howlers of South America; they are just a bit smaller, but their howl
pales in comparison to the heart-stopping roar of the Saraguates -- the
black howlers of