Days of Our Agoutis

So the agoutis, or neques as they are called here, have pretty much taken over the yard in the morning.  They come sniffing along for any fruit or nuts strewn about.  Sometimes we feed them bread sticks; they proceed to gnaw away as if they were extremely long cigarillos.  They tend to get into fights with the quails, and kind of stare at the lizards.  But the main thing they do is fight among themselves over food.  We stuck a couple of bananas into the fence hoping the monkeys would see it and get them, since if it's on the ground, the neques will get it first.  The birds were interested, but couldn't figure out how to eat the bananas - but they did manage to knock them to the ground.  (They also keep knocking over the bird feeder.)  So one neque eventually found the banana, and grabbed it with his mouth and started trotting off.  The other one came up behind him, obviously smelling the fruit, and kept trying to see what the other one had.  The one with the banana kept turning away from the other one to hide the banana.  However, a neque - which is about the size of a cat, without the tail - with a complete banana in his mouth, is not exactly a subtle sight.  So the one with the banana started running off, and the one without the banana started running after him.  Hey, it's a slow holiday morning, and I've got time to gaze out the window.

Iguanas, de paseo

The main street running by us is the Paseo de las Iguanas, and we have seen several large ones, but infrequently.  In our back yard there is Pedro, of course, who might be a small iguana, along with a bunch of even smaller lizards.  Well, today we saw an iguana about 1.5 feet long not counting his tail, very dark green with some hints of green, munching on something in the jungle.  We went outside to take a look, and this enormous iguana, nearly three feet long not counting the tail and very, very thick-bodied, came crashing through the underbrush.  Then, suddenly, both  bolted off and climbed trees, quickly disappearing from sight.  So now, anytime we are walking along with a tree branch overhead, we have to assume there is a decent chance there is an iguana up there.  I am told they are delicious.

Animal update

Today and yesterday have been banner days for us and animals, in the sense that many animals have come into our back yard and demanded food.  We had the gatos solos (coatis) yesterday morning, only 30 or 35 or so, a smaller crowd than usual, but they have revealed an endearing new quality.  After they eat all the fruit and bread, several of them decide it's time to scratch.  They basically recline back, then with their front paws scratch furiously at their tummies for several minutes.  The agoutis then follow, waiting patiently for bananas and breadsticks.  They sit upright on their haunches when they gnaw on the breadsticks; I have started calling the fat one Nibbler, after the Futurama animal.  The bushy-tailed squirrel has also come bounding in.  Today we had about 9 monkeys, the little white-faced ones.  Cholo the cook, wearing his French chef hat, took a bunch of bananas and papayas into the yard and once he left, they came in to eat.  We've had one very bright green iguana.  The other night we had the zorra, (not its real name - it's some kind of big shrew) snuffling around.  Haven't seen the armadillo for a couple of weeks.  The lizard who hangs out by the fountain has earned himself a name.  He is Pedro, for Pedro Picapiedras, the Spanish for Fred Flintstone.  Pedro is fast.  The other day he was sunning himself on the rocks while the chacalacas, a kind of big-winged pheasant, were eating bread we had thrown into the yard.  Pedro darted off the rock, dashed between them, grabbed the bread and zipped back to his rock.  He kind of runs on his back legs and rears up when he goes fast, so it looks like he's a cartoon character with his back legs spinning like a wheel, like he's the road runner.  The Chacalacas, who might not be the brightest creatures in the yard, stared blankly at each other wondering what the hell had just happened and where the bread had gone.  Pedro was back on his rock, the bread was gone, and if lizards can have shit-eating grins on their faces, that's what Pedro had.

Departure of the Coatis

 For those who may be concerned about leaving small children or inebriated adults with us, ignore those previous posts.  The gatos solos were actually quite friendly and gentle, except for ripping the kitchen door off its hings - we'll need to get that replaced.  And thus, their bellies filled with bread and cookies, their paws filled with the door keys they stole from us, along with the TV remote, they clambered over the fence and went back into the Canal Zone jungle.

Reflections Upon Feeding the Gatos Solos

 Who knew they had learned to open doors?  Who anticipated their surprising ability to learn to manipulate door knobs?  As the final photo shows, they can be rather insistent.  It was all darkness after that....

The Gato Solos Strike Back

 I was out of bread.  There were more than twenty of the gatos solos.  Then I remembered - we had a few cookies left over.  Everybody likes chocolate chip cookies, right?  Turns out they do.  Turns out they would much prefer, rather than having you toss them to the yard and they have to eat them out of the grass, to take them forcibly from your hand.  By the time I got the door closed, quite a few of the coatis had closed in.  But the door was closed.  We must be safe now. . . .

Revenge of the Gato Solo

 You can see their attack strategy revealed in this sequence of photos.  Sure, there are only eight or ten at this point, and they seem disinterested in the humans standing innocently on the patio.  They're keeping their distance and there is no sign of aggression.  Even at the time of the second photo, the only indication things might take a turn for the worse are that your esteemed photographer took a step forward without looking and startled the biggest freaking iguana I have seen outside a zoo, at least four feet long just in the torso, a tail stretching out at least another two feet, and looking like it weighed twenty or more pounds.  He went streaking across my foot, and by the time I recovered, for photo three, the coatis had launched the first wave of the attack.  Now there were close to two dozen already in the yard and at least ten more climbing the fence, and I was running out of bread.  It's rare that I recall any words of wisdom from my parents - a fact in startling contrast to what my own daughters must go through every day, remembering dozens of extraordinarily sage sayings and bons mots I offered throughout their childhood, oftentimes despite their best efforts to put those years far beyond the reach of conscious memory - and yet, for a moment, as I noticed that coatis have very sharp teeth and very sharp claws and were already within pouncing range, I vaguely recalled my parents saying something like, 'You shouldn't feed wild animals up close.  Remember what happened with the crocodile.'