What lurks in the dark II: My apologies to anyone who has previously read this on TAGnet. It was well received, and it does have something to do with bats and caves, so I have here posted an updated version: Susan from Reston was kind enough to post a link on TAGnet to an article about the Maclaud's horseshoe bat from the highland forests of Guinea in West Africa. Read the whole article at: _http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2007/06/070622-bat-picture.html_ (http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2007/06/070622-bat-picture.html) Right next to it was a video about fishing bats and cave dwelling catfish battling it out in Belize: _http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2006/07/060724-bat-fish-video.html_ (http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2006/07/060724-bat-fish-video.html) The video is a bit hokey, and obviously staged, but interesting nonetheless. Fishing bats, Noctilio leporinus, are quite common throughout coastal areas in Belize and elsewhere in Central America, and are totally cool. They make excellent evening entertainment for those inclined to sip their rum slowly in a ramshackled shack by the waters edge. I believe that they somewhat specialize on “Billum”, Astyanax mexicanus, which are small highly aggressive freshwater fish of the characin family (think tiny Piranhas!) They are so active and aggressive that if one attempts to fish for larger species by casting bait or a lure across the stream it is followed as it arcs through the air. The moment it lands in the water is set upon by hundreds of the ravenous Billum. They are sold in pet shops as "Mexican Tetras" and are not a good choice for a community tank! When the seed ticks have covered your testicles there is nothing quite like an evening dip in a cool clear stream. Just sit there as best you can while thousands of Billum nibble off the ticks! Beware that they are confirmed nipple biters! But then perhaps those who inhabit glass caves shouldn't throw stones! Meanwhile the catfish lurk. They are everywhere, in the sewage canals, under stumps, in wet mud, and in both fresh and brackish water. Every wet crevice in every cave is full of them, some of which exhibit cave adapted traits, other less so. As evening falls they begin their nightly foray, and anything they can shove into their mouths is fair game. It was interesting to observe that the sewage canals of Belize city were for many years so toxic that even catfish couldn't live there. Now that the situation is slightly improved due to British aid the catfish have returned to form a solid squirming mass. They can be seen by the billions gulping air off the surface since there is no oxygen whatsoever in the water. In Belize nobody ever eats catfish. That’s because everybody knows what catfish eat, not normally bats as shown in the above linked movie, but rather the ubiquitous brown trout. For those of you grown jaded by the thrills of caving just try this: There you are in Gales Point, a tiny village on the Southern Lagoon which is the jumpoff point for a dugout canoe trip up the Manatee river to visit the gigantic cave at the headwaters (give yourself two weeks for a leisurely round trip!). It is time for that special moment alone, so you walk down the moonlit path to the outhouse (being careful to avoid the Tommygoff snakes nipping at your heels!) With great trepidation you walk the treacherous rotten plank to the dilapidated stick structure poised over the dark waters of the lagoon. Let us assume for the moment that this is a private facility, for if it were a public facility it would be impossible to come anywhere near the structure because the brown trout would have long ago migrated ashore to become terrestrial, thereby preventing access. Once seated upon the throne, which is a transverse stick, you pause to contemplate the universe. Your eyes become accustomed to the gloom such that you can see the tiny ripples in the otherwise still water, and your ears become attuned to the tiny ominous splishes and splashes that seem to be coming ever nearer. You begin to enjoy that special moment of plipping and plopping as the brown trout enter the sea to complete their life cycle. Just think, only yesterday they were tacos! Then you look down, and to your horror the water has begun to glow with a lurid bio-luminescence. Swirling ghostly shapes can be seen snapping at the trout. Suddenly they begin to leap, their glistening black bodies illuminated in the spray, each one eager to be the first to take a trout straight from the tap! Your business is not yet done, but sphincter clampage sets in as the whiskers of the leaping catfish tickle your most private parts, and their cold noses, like those of black slimy puppies from hell, seek to burrow within in search of the ultimate source of all those delicious tidbits! A battle rages between the sphincter and the transformed tacos, all of which are in league with Montezuma and seek to join in his revenge. Did you, White man, come here expecting anything less? Meanwhile the catfish continue to leap, becoming ever more frenzied as the dark water becomes a glowing froth. You panic and lurch forward, trying to raise the pants that are tangled about your ankles, but your balance is lost! Just as you manage to pull your pants up to serve as a net with which to catch the remaining trout there is a splintering sound as the plank snaps, and a sickening eternal moment without gravity as you plummet toward the waiting catfish. Time speeds up as you review your entire life and resolve to do all the things you should have done if only given another chance! As you hit the water you expect to be engulfed in a swirling mass of rubbery lips, but oddly enough there seem to be none. Where have all the catfish gone? Back in the 50's and 60's there was a great massacre of crocodiles as hungry Belizeans sought to rid their waters of the great menace, and make a few bux besides. Many of the crocs were killed, but there were some too old and wise who slipped back into the depths of the swamps, there to bide their time. Such a one was “Old One Eye”. He was old even then, when a poacher’s bullet took out his left eye. Since then he has been waiting. It has been a long time, half a century, and he has grown wiser still. He only comes out on the dark of the moon, and if a hunter should shine his one eye then he is gone, not to surface again that night. He doesn't need to eat often, but when he does he prefers a full meal. The Belizeans have seen so many White men come and go. Where are they from? Where do they go when they leave, and why? It’s hard to say? Pass dat spliff, my Bruddah! One thing is certain, some leave and never come back. Perhaps he caught the early bus? Who knows? Sleazeweazel
ps: Do the Weazel a special favor. Feel free to respond to me personally if you wish, or to Texascavers, but if you do don't hit reply to form an endlessly repeated thread. Just send a new message to the forum making brief reference to the previous post in question. As cavers we know that threads and breadcrumb trails are for Boy scouts. ************************************** See what's free at http://www.aol.com.
