Mexican Serpents of Palenque
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| Royal Flycatcher |
March 9, 2002
When traveling Mexico, we hear many stories of dangers. Some of them may even be true! Certainly, there are dangers of having a car wreck on the narrow and potholed highways of Mexico, and there are thieves – just as in any other country. But, when something bad happens to some tourist in Mexico, the word seems to spread like wildfire. With each telling, the story may grow slightly. The Zapatista movement in Chiapas has caused considerable concern that tourists might be held for ransom or something. An Entomologist acquaintance of mine was killed many years ago in Southern Mexico when he landed his plane in a drug-growing area. Certainly, folks have been robbed when traveling on foot through the national parks of Mexico. A major risk is that the thieves will run up large bills on your ATM card before you can report the loss to the company.
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| Warning |
Some tourists have devised ways to minimize loss from theft. One suggestion is to carry a small, cheap billfold with a little cash and no credit cards when walking in the forests and countryside. The thief will be happy to take the billfold and will let you go without harm (at least in theory.) This is the strategy we take when birding in the deep forest of Palenque, Chiapas. But even with this precaution, Pat was noticeably apprehensive when we started down the dark trail soon after daybreak. “It’s too dark to see the birds,” she said. “The trail is so rocky and muddy that we must watch where we step rather than watch birds. I don’t really like to go birding in the deep forest.” But, we walked and watched for maybe 30 minutes anyway, seeing only a glimpse of a bird as it flew rapidly through the quiet woods. There was no breeze, not even in the tops of the tall Ceiba trees, where the early morning sun was shining. We walked silently, swatting an occasional mosquito and sometimes slipping on a wet rock. The streams we encountered were clear and shallow with strategically placed, but slippery and un-level, rocks for crossing. We met two boys, one carrying a basket of tomatoes and the other, some chayote squash. We chatted briefly about birds and animals of the forest and parted company.
While searching the tops of some giant trees, I spied some movement. “Big bird or mammal,” I thought. But I was totally unprepared for the very loud scream that seemed to come from a bush close in front of us. It was not too difficult to imagine some very large carnivore hungry for some gringo meat. After all, cougars are still seen in these woods. We glanced around and saw no animal charging us and quickly realized the source of the sound. We had seen and heard Howler Monkeys before on this trip – but never so close and so loud. We examined the treetops again and observed a troop of adult and immature Howlers. In the quiet of early morning, the noise was almost deafening -- guttural and toneless. No sense in trying to hear birds singing – it was even noisier than the big trucks on the highway. After watching them howling and feeding on leaves and fruit for a while, we continued down the trail. Somehow the monkeys had a sort of calming and invigorating influence and we returned to enjoying rather than fearing nature and the unknown. The birds started moving and we quickly picked up four new birds -- including the Royal Flycatcher -- to add to our Mexican bird list.
A woman and three children passed us on the trail. We exchanged pleasantries and one small boy was heard to say something about “Santa Claus” as they moved away. Guess they don’t see many white-bearded old coots on this trail. The heavy jungle began to give way to shorter trees, including coconuts and bananas, and we realized that we must now be out of the National Park. A four-strand barbed wire fence appeared, and we crawled through to see a couple of small boys leading a horse through a pasture. They approached us and said that there were some really great birds near their home on top of the hill. We followed them until we met a man on a horse wearing a straw hat and carrying a machete. We waved and he came down the hill to greet us. “Follow me and I’ll show you an area with great birds, some Mayan Temples, and a great view,” he said. We followed him up a hill from which rain forest had been cleared. At the top, we could look down across the broad lowlands of onetime forest that were now covered with pastures and cattle. “I own all of this land that I inherited from my father who inherited it from his father. My grandmother lived to be 117 years old here. “Here we are very careful to protect the plants and animals,” he said as he swung his machete to chop some offending shrub.
“We are currently standing on the old Mayan Temple de Mirada,” he said. “From this hill, the Mayans could watch the approach of their enemies across the lowlands.”
Then he explained that this Mayan Temple of pre-Christian times that had been flattened into rubble by earthquakes. He mentioned how many meters wide, deep and tall it was before and after the earthquakes.
“For twenty dollars, I will show you another temple over there under those tall trees,” he said.
“But I can see the trees and we could visit the temple on our own,” I suggested.
“No, it is too dangerous. There are many serpents there that will kill you if you are bitten, but I have my machete and will protect you,” he said.
“How much do you charge in pesos?” I asked with feigned ignorance.
He thought for a while and then said, “That will be 100 pesos.” Maybe his math was bad or maybe he had just reduced the price in half. Anyway, I quickly accepted the deal although still very unsure of what we would get for our money. He rode to the fence, dismounted, said something to his horse as he tied it to a tree and climbed through the fence. We followed obediently. With his machete working rapidly, he cleared a trail through the vines and shrubbery, identifying the trees and plants as we went. “This is a yucca plant,” he said as he pointed to a tall, slender plant. Digging at the base, he uncovered a thickened root that he claimed becomes very large in one year and is very good in soups. Then he showed us how to chop the stems into about foot long pieces to replant for next year’s crop. What looked like short forest turned out to be his garden. He showed us lemons, limes, and coconuts. Picking a fruit he called a lime, he began to peel it with his machete. He handed us some slices and asked us to eat them. Expecting a bitter lime taste, we were surprised that it was sweet and tasted like limeade. Approaching a larger tree, he swung his machete as high as he could reach and down came a large green fruit. It was a guayabana that “brings 80 pesos per kilo in the market. Juiced and added to milk, it is very good.” Sensing that he wished for us to buy it, I offered 30 pesos, which he accepted readily. “In three days it will be ripe and you can eat it,” he said. We already knew about guayabana from our trip to Brazil, and sometimes order the juice in the College Station Mall. But it was a small thrill to obtain the fruit directly from the tree.
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| Manual with Guayabana |
At the edge of his property -- apparently the Palenque Park boundary -- we came to a barbed wire fence. Before I knew what he was doing, he struck and cut the wire at the post, which made it easier for us to enter. Feeling a little guilty to be party to this park vandalism, we entered through the hole in the fence, then climbed the rocky debris of a once-great temple. When we reached the top, our guide explained that this was once the great Municipal Palace that was over 70 meters tall. By now, I felt comfortable in our guide’s presence and asked his name. “Jose Alfredo or Manuel,” he said. “You may use either name.” He then pointed to a large hole in the top of the rubble and explained that he had worked with the archeologist when they made the excavation.
I explained that many gringos are afraid to hike the forest trails for fear of robbery. “Is this a real danger?” I asked.
“Yes, four years ago there were some robberies. But I cooperated with the park rangers and the criminals were caught. The rangers and I all carry radios, so when a tourist reported a theft, I was able to spot the thieves and radioed the rangers of their location. But don’t worry, there is only peace and tranquility on my farm – you are perfectly safe here.”
As we descended the rubble, Manuel pointed out the native trees and gave them names. “This is the Mullato and that is the Ceiba, which grows very large and is sacred to the Maya. Another large tree is called the Guanase and produces fruit for the birds and animals. There are over 300 species of trees in this area and 1500 Howler Monkeys. The Cegro and Caowa trees are the most important.” (Apologies to Manuel if I misspelled the names of these great trees.)
As we continued our descent, an old temple stone gave way under my food and I fell heavily on my tail. “Are you OK?” Manuel asked.
“Yes,” I explained, “when I fell, I hit on the bird book I was carrying in my rear pocket. It cushioned the blow.” Thus, I learned that bird books have more than one function.
On the way to the third temple, Manuel showed us an old Mayan aquaduct built out of the same limestone used to build the temples. Cutting away a few vines and shrubs, he led the way down to a man-made opening from which a stream was flowing. He explained that this aquaduct, built of heavy stone, extends underground for over 100 meters, and three streams actually merge underground. “Next time you come, I will take a flashlight and we can explore it.” I found it of interest to speculate how the Mayans could have built these massive stone structures without the benefit of any metal tools. It was built so well that the aquaduct had survived earthquakes for around 1300 years since about the time of Pakal the Great, whose rule of Palenque ended about 800 A. D.
Manuel then took us up another climb to the Hidden Temple, that had also survived the earthquakes. He explained that he had helped in building some of the reinforcing to stabilize the vaulted hallways of the ancient structure.
Pat and I had previously spent a couple of enjoyable days climbing and wandering through the magnificent, partially rebuilt temples of Palenque that bring flocks of tourists from Germany, England, Italy, France, Japan and elsewhere. Since the archeologists have learned to decipher the glyphs carved in rock on these temples, they now know the names of many of the rulers and the times that they ruled. But it was maybe more fun to follow Manuel through some forest-covered ruins and his finca that most tourists never see. It gave us a little of the sense of how Fray Diego de Landa may have felt when he hacked his way with a machete through the forest to discover these ruins back in 1566.
As I paid Manuel the 100 pesos (plus a 30 peso tip) that I owed him, he looked at the money in his hand with the practiced look of disappointment that we often see on the faces of folks who are hoping for a larger tip. I thought little of it until after Manual left and I realized that I had short-changed him by 10 pesos. So when we arrived back at the parking lot, I asked if anyone knew Manuel. One man offered that the boy standing nearby was Manuel’s son. So I gave the boy a 10-peso coin and explained that we had unintentionally shortchanged his dad and to be sure to tell him we are sorry. The boy looked at me like I was surely out of my mind but readily took the money.
Yes, we survived our trek into this wild and dangerous jungle filled with thieves and jaguars. Manuel had done a very good job. As we drove down the steep hill from the Palenque Temples, we were hot and tired from our long walk through this steamy forest. However, we felt very good about a morning well-spent -- but a little disappointed that we had seen not a single dangerous serpent.
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