Once upon a time in Mexico

In Mexico, in the jungly messes of wilderness that cling to the sun-bleached coast lines there are bugs the size of baseballs and hungry jaguars roam the steamy forests at night. Danger waits perched among the trees and rocks of these wild places to be dislodged by the slightest folly of a curious soul. I myself have thwarted nature's foul plans on more than one occasion. I am here today, not to tell you tales of the times I escaped an early end. I am here today to tell you of the time I was beaten. I was left without luck or a prayer--the day I met the blue-footed booby.

It all happened one evening. The sun was gone but its light still traced the edges of the gentle surf, illuminating the waves in a brilliant yellow green back-lit display. I was hanging out with my friend Adrian, hypnotized by the dusk time beauty, when we both saw a bird with blue feet. "Wow! Look at that bird with blue feet!" we simultaneously said. It appeared magnificent to me. A bird from a childhood dream, white with a blue beak and blue feet. Its bewildering features enchanted us. At once we noticed this majestic bird's gait. Its foot, its cobalt-colored foot, was noticeably hurt. Upon seeing this I jumped out of my chair and rushed to the glorious creature's aid.

I soon realized that this blue-footed booby did not really desire my help. The bird seemed concerned as I approached him. He appeared agitated by my presence in general. It was no matter. I was going to help this bird even if it killed me, and it nearly did. As I reached down to cradle the poor creature, he lunged forward with a shriek, attacking my hands with his big blue razor-sharp beak. I soon learned that the blue-footed booby's ferocity could only be matched by the unbriddled killing power of a wolverine or a pack of ravenous wild dogs. As the blue-footed booby proceeded to slice my hands in quick haste like a paper shredder or a garbage disposal, I could see my life flashing before my eyes. My birth, Christmases, first kisses, school, and now this. Would it all end here? Would I be just another statistic? Another fool, a hapless victim of this sadistic blue-footed demon? Who knows how many men's lives have been taken by this species over the years? Hundreds? Thousands? No, I'd say more like millions, if this one bird was of an average temperament for a blue-footed booby. It was clearly a live or die situation. That bird had strength beyond the realm of understanding. The bird was exhibiting supernatural fighting skills! He was like the Steven Seagal of birds! I half expected that bird to bust out with a round-house or something. But he didn't. Eventually, I just passed out from blood loss. When I awoke my friend was sitting with me in the sand. I was to be helivaced to the nearest hospital. My friend stayed with me, comforting me as I waited in the cool sand. I could feel my life slipping away. He started putting band aids on me and then he told me there was no helivac. I guess it was just a hallucination. Instead of the hospital, we went to get tacos.

Interestingly, the indigenous Indian population in that region has traditionally used tacos as a remedy for blue-footed booby attacks. I'm not the keenest proponent of alternative medicine, but I can honestly say that it worked for me.  So remember! If you are ever viciously attacked by a blue-footed booby like I was--get tacos! It works.

Ghost jaguar (or as I like to call it, yaguar)