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By Theresa Schadeck-Storm
Sometimes you get lucky. Tim Boys, founder of Vancouver-based Island
Expeditions, did. That is, if you define luck as gazing into the eyes of a
wild mother jaguar standing just 15 metres away, her muscles bunched and
tail flicking. And, luckier yet, getting a great photo of one of the world's
most elusive big cats, as Boys did, despite his shaking limbs.
His words tumbled out as he told the adrenaline-pumping tale of how he and
his local Mopan Mayan guide encountered three jaguars deep in Belize's
Cockscomb Basin Wildlife Sanctuary over a two-day period in March 2000. His
excitement was understandable.
"It's very rare to see them. They're very secretive animals," he explained.
"But then we started to realize this isn't a benign photo shoot; this is the
largest predator in the neotropics."
And the duo knew her kitten, which they had seen sans mommy first, had
already swum to the other side of the river and disappeared into the thick
jungle. The mother had been halfway across the river herself when she sensed
the men and turned back, swimming at a 45-degree angle toward them.
The staring contest apparently a draw, she dropped her tail, walked a few
paces, looked again and was gone.
I'm recalling Boys' tale of machismo adventure as I'm standing on the wooden
deck outside our dorm room at the Cockscomb Sanctuary's headquarters. Gazing
through the dawn's shroud-like mist to where I know the jungle leaps up from
the edge of the lawn, I wonder whether we too will see the third-largest
member of the feline family on our four-day trekking and river kayaking
expedition into the heart of the Cockscomb - the world's only jaguar
reserve.
Part of me hopes that we do. But the "chicken" part hopes that we don't, at
least not at close range. Like me, all nine of my travel mates, aged 30 to
71, are on this Coral Jaguar Expedition to challenge themselves. We've
already spent eight days paddling 40 kilometres of Belize's 250-kilometre
barrier reef and camping Robinson Crusoe-style on four uninhabited cays
(Belizean for islands). But now the real adventure - the one some of us have
both anticipated and dreaded - is about to begin.
We're only the fourth group to venture into this dense jungle - some of it
impenetrable and unexplored - with Island Expeditions, who has specialized
in Belizean kayak and adventure tours for 15 years and is the only operator
running multi-day trips in the Cockscomb.
To prepare for part two, we'd arrived yesterday. After a last wistful look
at the Caribbean Sea, we rattled south on the rusty clay washboard of the
Southern Highway - not more than a dirt track - to Maya Center village about
halfway between Dangriga and Placencia in southern Belize. Turning west off
the highway onto the 10-kilometre entrance road, the Maya Mountains loomed
ahead, crowned by Victoria Peak - the country's highest point at 1,120
metres. Looking remarkably like a proud rooster's comb, these mountains and
high ridges ring the aptly named Cockscomb on three sides. Lying in a bowl,
the sanctuary runs 36 kilometres east to west and 14 kilometres north to
south. Not too big, you think, until you're swallowed up in its towering,
teeming depths.
Outside the Interpretive Centre we learned two metal cages that had been
used by Dr. Alan Rabinowitz, a New York zoologist, for jaguar research in
1983-84. His work, coupled with tremendous effort by the Belize Audubon
Society, the Forestry Department and Maya families - many who gave up their
homes and milpa farms - was instrumental in establishing the sanctuary in '
86.
Jaguars occupy a sprawling range from Argentina to the southwestern United
States. Cockscomb protects the densest population of jaguars north of the
Amazon Basin, as well as a diverse array of other wildlife and birds. In
1990 it was expanded to 40,800 hectares, giving the jaguars a rare chance;
their habitat in most Central and South American countries is rapidly
dwindling.
It's working. The number of jaguars has at least doubled since the sanctuary
's inception. This year the Wildlife Conservation Society's (WCS) Jaguar
Conservation Program, which is spearheaded by Rabinowitz, completed the
first-ever census of jaguars using remote camera traps set along game trails
to determine population density. Like human fingerprints, each jaguar's
spotting pattern is unique, allowing scientists to count the felines
captured on film. This new method is not invasive or harmful to the cats,
unlike the previous method that required trapping, tranquilizing and fitting
the animals with radio collars. From the data collected, the WCS' scientific
team estimates that in the Cockscomb 14 jaguars live in a
142-square-kilometre area.
On a night safari, we learned that more than 70 per cent of the rainforest's
mammals are nocturnal, including the jaguar and four other species of wild
cats that call Cockscomb home: pumas, ocelots, jaguarondis and margays. Our
headlamps bobbed crazily as we tried to move silently, our feet crunching
deadfall. We were hopeful, but didn't see anything more threatening than a
skunk.
Now, in the early morning mist, we set off on the 12-kilometre hike to
jungle camp one. It isn't long before Greg Sho and Gregorio Chun, our Mayan
guides, signal us to stop. They point to jaguar tracks in the mud, scratches
on the ground and a broken bush. These are all signs, as well as depositing
feces, used by jaguars to mark territory. Males maintain overlapping
territories of 28 to 41 square kilometres, while the range of females do not
overlap and are about a third as large. We encounter fresh signs at several
spots along the trail.
At last we see the domed tents awaiting our arrival at the confluence of the
Cockscomb and Mexican branches of South Stann Creek. They, like our kayaks,
food and water, had been brought in hours earlier by Mayan porters.
Employing Belizeans is just one of the things Island Expeditions does to
ensure tourism supports wildlife and habitat conservation and is sustainable
in the long-term. Island - and ultimately its guests - contributes to and
works with the Belize Audubon Society (who manages the Cockscomb) and the
Belize Zoo and Tropical Education Centre, home to orphaned and injured
animals.
"We try to direct money to something specific and we want to be a part of
those projects," explained Denver Willson-Rymer, one of Island's owners. For
example, Island helped to fund the WCS' jaguar census.
Next morning, Sho excitedly pointed out fresh jaguar tracks on the path only
4.5 metres from the closest tent. A few steps away were scrapes and a broken
bush. Though it had been so close, no one seemed scared. We'd already
learned that jaguars and other cats use trails like this to travel and stalk
prey. They avoid people and rarely attack them.
On jungle and river hikes our instruction on Cockscomb's flora and fauna
continued. A birder's paradise with more than 290 recorded species, we saw a
rare spectacled owl, a great kisadee, a rufous tail hummingbird, and a dozen
delightful montezuma oropendolas; their nests hanging like storks' baby
bundles from a massive ceiba tree. Best - and brightest - of all, was a
keel-billed toucan, the national bird of Belize.
Alas, we saw no jaguars. Sometimes you get lucky. Sometimes not.
Theresa Schadeck-Storm is a freelance travel writer based in Calgary.
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