The old gold miner trudged up the nearly dry river bed.
The old gold miner trudged up the nearly dry river bed, carbine in hand. The large three-toed tracks caught his attention. They came from the undergrowth on the left and advanced upstream, clearly outlined in the moist bottom. The foot prints disappeared into a large clear pool spoiled only by a greenish-brown blob resembling horse manure floating on the surface. The tracks emerged on the other side of the pool, continued up the stream bed a short distance and entered a wallow.
The muck in the middle was pressed flat. A confusion of prints and scuff marks were visible at the edge of the muddy depression. From there the three-toed tracks resumed their up stream course. The man followed for a short distance but stopped when he spotted the second set of tracks. These had four toes in the formation of a paw. Though smaller than the three-toed tracks, the paw prints were larger than the old man's gnarled and calloused hand. The gold miner hesitated and surveyed his surroundings. He gripped the carbine a little tighter and moved ahead. The second set of prints mingled with the first.
Abruptly the distance between paw prints increased; a few meters later the three-toed prints did the same. The man followed, acutely aware of his surroundings, finger near the trigger. Within 50 meters the paw prints disappeared into thin air, ceased to exist. The trail of three-toed tracks continued on alone, still with ample distance between them but more deeply imprinted in the sand. A dark reddish brown splotch appeared beside the trail, then another and another. The distance between prints increased and the stains in the sand grew larger.
Just around the curve the old gold miner stopped dead in his tracks and raised the carbine. A large spotted cat lay on its side, head twisted back at an odd angle. Immediately in front of the motionless body, a log spanned the stream from bank to bank. The old man threw a stone that bounced off the large skull with a dull thud but didn't evoke the slightest twitch. The hunter relaxed slightly and moved deliberately forward. With his finger still on the trigger the old miner poked the motionless body with the barrel of the carbine, but there was no response. Bolom the jaguar was obviously dead. The man stared down at the magnificent beast and pondered the puzzling situation.
The larger three-toed tracks renewed their course, the distance between prints back to normal. The old miner ducked under the log and followed the trail up the dry stream. Scuffle marks and knee prints were visible at one point. A few steps farther lay the owner of the tracks, bleeding, breathing with difficulty and flat on its side. The old miner withdrew his knife from the scabbard and slit the animal's throat, then sat down and watched it die. Tzimin the tapir was fat, well over 250 kilos with enough loin and round to feed the man and his two companions for a week. He thought about skinning the cat, but the sun was descending toward the horizon, and he already owned three jaguar pelts. Without the hide he could carry more meat. The old gold miner took all he could pack in his ruck sack and left the rest for the scavengers. The miners would feast on the tenderloin that night and dry and salt the rest tomorrow....
Baird´s Tapir (Tapirus bairdii) was called "Tzimin" by the Aztecs and Mayas and "Tilba" by the Miskitos. In Mexico it is known as the "anteburro," in Belize the "mountain cow," and in parts of Costa Rica the "macho de monte." In Spanish the names "danta" or "tapír" and sometimes "anta" are used. Here in the south Pacific region of Costa Rica around Dominical, we call it the "danta."
To some the tapir resembles a small cow and to others a large pig. As high at the shoulder as the waist of a tall man, and a mass equal to that of a couple of linemen from a Super Bowl Team, this is Central America's biggest land mammal. Its head is large with a nose that might be described as a sawed-off trunk or a lengthy upper lip. This prehensile snout is used for grasping the foliage that forms the tapir's diet and pulling it into his mouth.
Tach hoofed foot would cover a dinner plate. All four feet have three functional toes and the front feet each have a vestigial forth toe high on the outside. These digits are really hooves, and therefore the tapir is an ungulate, the only one in Central America with three toes. The tapir plays an important role as a seed disperser, consuming many seeds that pass through its digestive tract and are deposited into water with the feces. The water often carries the seeds far from their point of origin. The tapir is preyed on by the jaguar, puma and of course, man.
When humans first appeared in the Americas sometime between 35,000 and 10,000 years ago, many species of large mammals roamed these lands. Creatures that now seem like legends. The hairy mastodons with their enormous tusks, the giant ground sloth which stood three times the height of a grown man, the giant bison, majestic animal of the plains and, the saber toothed tiger all existed in ecological harmony for several million years. In a scant one or two thousand years human beings eradicated all of these large mammals from the face of the planet. In Central America nothing larger than the tapir survived. With large populations that lived in extensive areas of inhospitable jungle and swamp, there weren't enough people to kill them all. Nevertheless the beef -like meat of Tzimin supplemented the diets of the pre-Columbians and later of the Spanish colonists.
When the first modern day settlers came to this region in the early 1900s danta were abundant, but not for long. Both hunting and habitat destruction took their toll. By 1950 few were left. In 1955, Manuel Angel Sanchez was foreman of Hacienda Barú. That year, in the aftermath of a massive flood, he found the dead body of a danta on Barú beach, the first he had seen in over five years. Two years later he killed the last tapir anyone remembers seeing in this area. He shot it with a 28 gauge shot gun where it was wallowing in a mud hole located in the upper portion of Hacienda Barú. Antonio Hernandez of Hatillo thinks that tapirs still visited salt licks put out for his cattle in Dos Bocas as late as 1960, but he isn't sure of the date. Regardless of the exact date we can safely say that, it has been over fifty years since substantial numbers of tapirs wandered freely through our region.
In 1983 Daniel H. Janzen Ph.D. wrote, in Costa Rican Natural History: "There are at least 20 to 50 (Baird's tapirs) in Santa Rosa National Park and probably 100 to 300 in Corcovado National Park." In his 1988 book, National Parks of Costa Rica, Mario Boza lists the Baird's tapir as being present in seven national parks and wildlife refuges on the Caribbean slope, Chirripo National Park and La Amistad International Park, which straddles the continental divide, and only Corcovado National Park on the Pacific slope. Additionally I know from personal contact with inhabitants of Los Santos Reserve to the north of our area, that a few tapirs can still be found there. Even if there were 300 tapirs in each of these protected areas, a very optimistic estimate, there would be only around 3000 tapirs in all of Costa Rica. The true figure is probably less than half that.
In recent years poaching pressure in many of these protected areas has been intense. Corcovado in particular has had major problems. The illegal slaughter is taking place in spite of the fact that Baird's tapir (Tapirus bairdii) is protected by the Costa Rican Wildlife Protection Law #7317 and is listed as Endangered in Appendix I of the CITES international wildlife protection treaty. Unless we citizens and residents do something drastic, and soon, to solve this problem, we may live to see the extinction of Costa Rica's largest mammal. We don't want the tapir to be a creature of legends for our grandchildren
In 1994 a group of ASANA members drove over the Cerro de la Muerte to Santa Maria de Dota and hiked for ten hours across the Los Santos Reserve to a small village called Brujo. During the hike they were fortunate enough to see a tapir. For four years, ASANA had been talking to people about supporting a wildlife corridor project that would link all the remaining natural areas between the Osa Peninsula to the south and Los Santos Reserve to the north. The tapir sighting in Los Santos prompted the name "Path of the Tapir Biological Corridor," since tapirs are found at both ends of the corridor and once roamed freely over its entirety. We will know that the Path of the Tapir Biological Corridor is a success the day we see tapirs wander through our region once again.
In order to bring this about ASANA is working with local communities to educate the people about the urgent need to protect Costa Rica's natural heritage. Many communities are beginning to recognize the value of the forests, especially in relation to their water supplies, and the value of wildlife in relation to tourism, a big money earner. Through ASANA's environmental education program people are learning of the basic life sustaining services provided by the rainforest, such as the conversion of atmospheric carbon dioxide into wood fiber and oxygen. Groups of volunteer wildlife inspectors, have been formed in many communities. People are starting to speak out against poaching. Thanks to people's commitment, The Path of the Tapir Biological Corridor has less poaching than Corcovado National Park. However there is still much work to be done and ways in which everyone can get involved.
Tzimin moved cautiously out of the jungle, raising his head and long snout to sniff the light breeze. He moved slowly and deliberately out into the dry river bed. The scent of water wafted heavily in the air. Tzimin felt a heaviness in his gut. He followed his nose to the clear pool and barged in, splashing water with his large three-toed feet. Standing on the rocky bottom, Tzimin squatted slightly and expelled the firm round globs of manure into the pool. The cool water felt good. A slight itchiness tickled his thick hide. He left the pool and continued up the stream. The soft bottomed mud hole appeared on the shady side of the bank where past flood waters had eroded a hollow. Tzimin rushed in, plopped down in the middle, and wallowed around in the sticky muck. It felt good on his skin, and, when dried, the caked mud would protect him from biting insects. Tzimin took his time and thoroughly enjoyed the mud bath. He eventually left the muddy depression and resumed walking.
The first inkling of danger came on the breeze. Tzimin quickened his pace and moved his large head nervously from side to side, nostrils probing the air. He started to run, but Bolom, the jaguar, was on him like a flash, the sharp claws tearing into his sides, the fangs digging into the thick hide on his neck. The adrenaline hit him with a jolt. Tzimin broke into a full run. The side of his neck near his throat burned with intense pain. Bolom bore heavy on his back, but Tzimin ran faster, even as the claws and teeth penetrated deeper into his body. Just around the curve he saw the large trunk across the stream.
Tzimin called up all of his reserve strength and headed for the log. Ducking his head he lunged forward. The blow slowed his forward motion. He heard the snap of bone breaking, and felt the relief as Bolom's weight left his back. Tzimin stumbled, fell to his knees and quickly regained his feet. But the exertion, deep wounds and loss of blood were too much. Tzimin staggered up the stream a few more steps, stumbled again and fell to the ground. He made one feeble attempt to regain his feet without success, then yielded to fatigue and weakness. His body lay still on the stream bed. Tzimin was only vaguely aware of the old gold miner's machete as it sliced into his throat quickly draining his life's blood.
The original version of this tale was related to me by an old gold miner I met near Caihuita in 1974. It supposedly took place on the Caribbean slope near Bri Bri sometime in the 1930s or 1940s. I read a similar story in a book called Treasure Hunters, but I no longer have a copy and don't remember the name of the author. I can't vouch for the validity of the tale, but I enjoy the vision it evokes immensely.
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