Adventures of a Real Batman:

1966 - 1967

Chapter 1 - Back
to Venezuela
Map created by Jim Barker of New Tribes Mission, June 1964, from Merlin Tuttle's
personal records
Braniff flight #542 from Washington Dulles touched down at
Aeropuerto Internacional de Maiquetia “Simón Bolívar,” on a
muggy December evening in 1966. The passengers poured
from the clamshell door down the airstair to the sizzling
tarmac. A winsome bearded young man with horn-rimmed
glasses and slicked back hair exited the plane, clutching the
strap of his new movie camera. By his side was Claudette,
his wife, a petite Jackie Kennedy look-alike. The couple were
joined by Fred and Virginia Harder, also young, fit, and
exuberant. This was the core team for Year Two of the
Smithsonian Venezuelan Mammal Project.

Claudette and Merlin Tuttle were returning to Venezuela to

resume the fieldwork they had left unfinished five months
earlier. Claudette recruited her brother and sister-in-law, Fred
and Virginia, to assist on the project for their final year of field
work before going to graduate school.

A born collector

Smithsonian curators had known Merlin since he was in high

school. The 17-year-old had talked his mother into driving him
from their home in Tennessee to DC so that he could discuss
his observations of gray bats that lived in caves near their
home. One of those scientists was Charles O. Handley, Jr.,
curator of mammals, who later would call Merlin “a born
collector.”

Just as Merlin was finishing his undergraduate degree in

zoology, Dr. Handley at the National Museum of Natural
History offered to hire him as co-director of a two-year
collecting project in Venezuela. When he accepted, Handley
immediately asked, “Does this mean I get Arden too?”

Arden was Merlin’s younger brother. The brothers were a

collecting dynamic duo, gaining expertise during summers in
Mexico and Peru, working for the American Museum of
Natural History, in addition to collecting in the hills of
Tennessee where they grew up.

May 30, 1965, Claudette and Merlin graduated from Andrews

University in Berrien Springs, Michigan. In early June (Merlin
forgot the date) they were married and soon departed for
Washington, DC to prepare for Year One in Venezuela.

The project purpose was to collect mammals and their

ectoparasites. Merlin would lead the expedition, Claudette
would be in charge of collecting ectoparasites, and Arden
would help with mammal collecting and preparation for Year
One. Then he would take a year off to return to Andrews
University as a pre-med student.

On July 18, 1965, they flew to Caracas.

The Vietnam War

At the time, the United States had mobilized troops to

Vietnam, and Merlin’s draft number was called for induction.
However, Dr. Handley had obtained a one-year deferral for
Merlin.

While working the first year on the project in Venezuela, from

July 1965 to July 1966, Merlin’s one-year deferral expired.
The Smithsonian’s personnel director, Joseph A. Kennedy,
wrote to the Tennessee Local Board No. 50 Selective Service
System, that Merlin had become “indispensable” to the
project and asked for a one-year extension.

On June 23, 1966, Handley sent Merlin a letter advising him

that there was no reply from the draft board and that there
was nothing more he could do. It would be wise to close his
affairs in Venezuela in a manner easy to clear up in case he
wasn’t able to return.

On July 20, 1966, Merlin and Claudette left Venezuela and

flew to Washington, DC to wait and see if anything further
could be done. Arden was left in charge in Venezuela, while
Merlin was gone.

Not knowing from one day to the next if the Smithsonian’s

request for his draft deferment would come through, he
preoccupied himself at the museum with creating a
dichotomous key for the mammals of Venezuela.

Meanwhile, the personnel director at the Smithsonian made

requests to Merlin’s home state of Tennessee and to the
Director of the Selective Service, General Hershey. The
general replied that he couldn’t override the State of
Tennessee but suggested they request a presidential
deferral. President Lyndon Johnson had just announced that
he would not grant any more deferments, so this was a long
shot.

It was granted.

Wild west

The second year team grabbed a taxi for the 45-minute drive
from the Maiquetia Airport to Caracas. En route, Merlin
noticed their driver was meandering down side roads, and so
he told him he knew how to get to the Park Hotel, and this
was not a direct route. The taxi driver said, “It’s like the wild
west here now,” with gun fights on the streets of Caracas
between Venezuela’s National Guard and the Communist
guerillas. To Merlin, the jungle was a safer place than
Caracas, and he was determined to get back to collecting as
soon as possible.

They safely arrived at the Park Hotel and headed directly to

the Museo de Ciencias Naturales to organize the field gear
Merlin had left in a storage room, per Handley’s instructions.

Several days into their preparations, a visiting Smithsonian

taxidermist, conducting training to museum employees, was
beaten and robbed at gunpoint by Communist insurgents. His
guns were stolen. This happened 75 feet from the storage
room where the Tuttles and the Harders were preparing for
their year-long expedition to the interior Amazonas Territory.
Meanwhile, their guns were broken down in pieces and
hidden in waste baskets.

Merlin and Fred, an accountant, had budgeted $20,000,

based on a bid from a private air carrier to fly multiple
missions, carrying their equipment to a remote savannah at a
small mission outpost called La Esmeralda in the Amazonas
Territory. The Smithsonian transferred the money to a bank in
Caracas, but Tuttle didn’t pay a dime for air transport. He
used his Letter of Introduction to obtain free transport via the
US Embassy, which ordered a C-47 navy plane, after
apologizing that it would take a week to get due to the
shortages caused by the Vietnam War.

Armed revolutionary struggle

Illustrative of the lawlessness in Caracas at the time, all of the

banks had hired armed guards stationed behind sandbag
barriers at entrances. Over a week’s time, expedition
members hand-carried approximately 90,000 Venezuelan
bolivars from the bank, packaged to look like Christmas gifts.
These presents were stored in false bottoms of expedition
trunks kept at the museum. The cash would be used to pay
indigenous workers for the specimens they collected.

I asked a Panamanian friend, Brittmarie Janson Perez, who

worked as a political analyst for the US government at the
time, about the political climate in Caracas. She recalled,
“Venezuelan guerrillas, strongly influenced by Fidel Castro, were
engaged in an armed “revolutionary struggle” comprising both
urban and jungle operations led by legendary Communist leaders. I
spent a lot of time reporting on the Communist leaders, some of
whom later abandoned violence and took part in the political
scenario. I think one or two are still alive,

opposing the current dictatorship.”

Brittmarie Janson Perez, Political Analyst

Amazonas interior

As you would expect, a military-funded project such as this

had strict guidelines on how the budget could be spent for
various salaried employees, allowing nothing for paying
hunters for specimens. Planning involved water sterilization,
how much toilet paper to bring, insect repellant, food, fuel,
etc.—all necessities required for months of work without
resupply.

About two weeks after their return to Venezuela, Merlin and

Claudette, along with Fred and Virginia, flew from Caracas to
Puerto Ayacucho, the last significant outpost of civilization,
then flew two more hours to La Esmeralda in the Amazonas
interior.

In what was known to Merlin as Esmeralda, the plane landed

in a grassy savannah. Google Earth shows it to be a paved
runway today.
The group emerged from the plane into the stifling heat and
humidity, engulfed by swarms of biting gnats which left tiny
blood blisters for each bite. Maquiritare Indians from the New
Tribes Mission arrived to help transfer the several tons of
equipment onto handcarts which they pushed and pulled for
several hundred feet across a muddy savannah to the
Orinoco River.

US Navy plane took Merlin's expedition team from Caracas to La Esmeralda in the
Amazonas Territory. Photo Credit: Merlin Tuttle
 One of the expedition's two dugout canoes running rapids on the Rio Cunacunuma,
Venezuela. Photo Credit: Merlin Tuttle

New Tribes Mission

Two 50-ft-long dugout canoes, each carved from a single tree

by the Maquiritare, were waiting on the Rio Orinoco. Merlin
had pre-ordered them six months in advance via the New
Tribes Mission, an evangelical Christian group specializing in
converting the indigenous people.

With their decades of experience in the Amazonas Territory,

the missionaries’ advice and logistical connections were
invaluable. They organized the shipping of thousands of
gallons of gasoline up the Orinoco from Puerto Ayacucho in
55-gallon drums, along with other supplies they stockpiled at
their Tamatama headquarters in anticipation of expedition
needs.

Expert river men sent by the missionaries loaded equipment

and supplies onto the canoes, carefully distributing the weight
evenly in anticipation of white water challenges.

Floating down the Orinoco, the main river of Venezuela, the

weary travelers finally relaxed in the welcome breeze that
denied the ubiquitous biting gnats a meal.

Fred Harder in one of the two dugout canoes for the SVP on the Rio Orinoco,
Venezuela.
 Chapter 2: Belén
Base Camp

One of the two SVP expedition's dugout canoes on Rio Cunacunuma, Venezuela. Photo
Credit: Merlin Tuttle
“If our Maquiritare crew hadn’t been as experienced at
piloting dugouts in such challenging conditions, everything
could’ve been lost, or we could’ve drowned. It was crazy!”

Merlin Tuttle

The expedition set off on the wide, calmly flowing Orinoco,

soon entering the flooding, white-water Rio Cunacunuma.
After seemingly endless miles of motoring against the current,
through treacherous rapids and potentially deadly boulders,
they finally had to unload their three 55-gallon drums of
gasoline and more than a ton of equipment and supplies to
portage around an eight-foot waterfall. It took all day to reach
their destination: the Maquiritare village of Belén.

Tuttle with camera and tripod on the trail to the Maquiritare village of Belén, VZ, with
Cerro Huachamacare in background. Photo Credit: Merlin Tuttle

Belén was located in a savannah between two tepuis

(table-top mountains), Cerro Duida and Huachamacari.
Villagers welcomed Merlin’s team to establish their base
camp in a large thatched structure with open sides, shielding
against midday sun and allowing cooling breezes. It also
provided ample area for eating, working, and storing. As an
added bonus, Belén was located on a black water river,
actually, a rusty red due to tannic acid from decaying
vegetation. The acid apparently made the water
uninhabitable for mosquitoes and biting gnats that had been
annoyingly abundant pests along the white water of the
Orinoco. Working and eating areas were set up, and sleeping
tents were pitched nearby. It was December 30, 1966, and for
about two months, this would be base camp.

The diversity of surrounding habitat provided an

extraordinarily rich fauna. Belén was also ideally located at
the base of one of the best access points for reaching the
Cerro Duida plateau. The base camp area alone would soon
yield 88 species of mammals, including 47 of bats.

The Tuttle Trap

Merlin could hardly wait to test his new bat trap ideas. He had
seen Dr. Denny Constantine’s single-layer bat traps used to
sample relatively easy-to-capture free-tailed bats at Carlsbad
Caverns, New Mexico. Constantine’s trap employed over a
hundred thin piano wires strung vertically in a metal frame,
equipped with a plastic bag beneath. It could quickly and
harmlessly capture hundreds of free-tailed bats that collided
and fell into the bag. The music it made was a bonus.

While waiting at the Smithsonian for his draft board’s

decision, Merlin had asked the museum workshop to make
two 5 x 6-foot, collapsible aluminum frames. Each was drilled
to be strung with four-pound monofilament fish line at 3/4-inch
intervals. He’d also ordered two canvas bags custom-made
that included plastic flaps to prevent captured bats from
climbing out. Each frame was equipped with four extendable
legs so it could be mounted upright in streams, trails, or other
bat flyways.

Soon after arriving at Belén, Merlin enthusiastically unpacked

and set one of the traps over a trail used as a flyway.
Expectantly, he watched with a dim headlamp. The first two
bats passed right through. He’d expected such a possibility,
so he simply extended the frame to tighten the lines. An
occasional bat was caught, but most now bounced off.

It occurred to him that he should try tying the two frames

together, using sticks and cord to hold the two frames several
inches apart, over a single bag. His idea was to tighten the
lines just enough to slow bats down, allowing passage
through the first set without bouncing off. Once the bats were
slowed and had to spread their wings to keep from falling,
perhaps the second set of lines could be sufficient to force
them to fall unharmed into the bag. The modification wasn’t
perfect, but with adjustment it began to catch small species
that were seldom caught in mist nets. Many of the larger
species still escaped by passing through both frames, but the
trap soon proved indispensable for more than just catching
small insect-eating species that typically avoided capture in
nets.

When village hunters told Merlin about a watering hole they

referred to as a “chupador de los dantas,” or drinking place of
the tapirs, he was intrigued. It was claimed that the small
pool of water also attracted “miles de murciélagos,”
thousands of bats.
 First test of a double-framed bat trap, the "Tuttle trap," set over a partially blocked
stream flyway on tributary of Rio Cunacunuma, VZ. The canvas bag was held in place
using sapplings tied together with nylon cords. Photo Credit: Merlin Tuttle

Drinking place of the tapirs

That got Merlin’s attention. Curious, he decided to
investigate. He organized a day-long canoe trip up a tributary
of the Rio Cunacunuma, combined with a rugged hike. It
sounded like an ideal opportunity to test the usefulness of his
new trap, though he also carried two mist nets.

Far from human influence, the area appeared to teem with

wildlife. Muddy stream banks and trails were crowded with
exotic tracks, from pacas and water opossums to jaguars and
river otters. Pacas are truly amazing rodents that resemble
giant guinea pigs except for white spots and strips along the
sides of their two- to three-foot-long bodies. They can weigh
up to 30 pounds, and are hunted as a delicacy by the
Maquiritare. Water opossums, as their name implies, have
webbed hind feet and are excellent swimmers. They are
small, strikingly marked with designs of black, slate gray, and
white, and they are carnivorous, feeding on fish and
crustaceans.
 Merlin Tuttle and guides paddling to the tapir drinking place on a tributary of the Rio
Cunacunuma, VZ. Photo Credit: Merlin Tuttle

Merlin and two Maquiritare guides arrived only an hour before

nightfall. The pool was a major disappointment. Only three
feet in diameter and an inch deep, it was overgrown with
vines which seemed to impede any normal bat’s
approach.Tapir clearly used it heavily, as trails had been cut
deeply into surrounding clay.

Thoroughly disgusted, Merlin and the Maquiritare helpers

made a camp nearby. They strung hammocks covered with
mosquito netting beneath tarps between trees. Next, they set
the trap and their two 42-foot-long, seven-foot-tall mist nets
over two streams, approximately 50 feet away, one on each
side of the tapir pool. No attempt was made to trap or net
over the pool, since it was obviously unattractive to bats.
The mist nets were so finely threaded as to be nearly
invisible. Loops at each end were threaded over freshly cut
poles to tightly stretch the five main horizontal strands of each
net. Adjusting the main strands allowed pockets of netting to
form. Bats striking a net, would fall into one of these pockets,
unable to escape.

Muchos murciélagos

During the night, the men took turns getting up to check the
nets and trap over the streams. At one o’clock in the
morning, Merlin was amazed to spot hundreds of bats flying
in and out of the vines over the tapir watering hole. He
excitedly rushed to awaken his two helpers, shouting “ Venga
pronto! Hay muchos murciélagos al chupador de los dantas!”
Come quickly! There are many bats at the tapir water hole!

As quickly as possible, they hauled the bat trap from the

nearby stream to the tapir pool. Between then and morning,
in less than four hours, frequently interrupted by rain, the trap
caught 85 bats of five species: Tent-making bats (Uroderma
bilobatum), Great striped-faced bats (Vampyrodes carracioloi)
(see photo below), Heller’s broad-nosed bats (Platyrrhinus
hellerii), Greater round-eared bats (Vampyrodes bidens), and
Little big-eyed bats (Chiroderma trinitatum). They were all
so-called “white-lined” bats because of their unique markings,
also belonged to the same subfamily and ate fruit, though
they were members of distinct genera, most of which were
seldom captured elsewhere.
Finding such large numbers of white-lined bats at a single
location was unheard of. Yet despite all the rain and
available nearby streams, they were attracted to that
particular, difficult-to-reach pool. In sharp contrast, the two
much larger mist nets set over nearby streams, caught just
eight bats in the entire night, all common species.

Merlin immediately wanted to know why. He used what he

had on hand, an empty mayonnaise jar, to collect a water
sample for later analysis. Unfortunately, he was unaware that
the jar had to be cleaned with acid first, so the sample was
polluted and of no value, and so the contents of that pool
remain a mystery.

A Great striped-faced bat (Vampyrodes carracioloi) eating a fig. This is one of the five
genera of so-called white-lined bats uniquely attracted to the tapir watering hole.
Specimen collecting

Back at base camp, a jaguar had killed two villagers, a father

and son, creating fear in the community. Merlin’s Maquiritare
hunter, Gonzales, and another villager tracked and shot the
cat, proudly bringing it into camp. The jaguar joined other
specimens in the Smithsonian’s collection.

Humid rainforest conditions meant animal specimens had to

be processed quickly to prevent spoilage. Once an animal
was checked for parasites, weighed, and measured, a
specimen tag was attached. This tag contained the name of
the collector, a unique number, the date and location of
collection, and the specimen’s sex and standard
measurements.

Claudette Tuttle created specimen tags to attach to these bat specimens. This tag
contained the name of the collector, a unique number, the date and location of collection,
and the specimen’s sex and standard measurements. These specimens were not taken
at this location, only used here to illustrate the process.

Specimens were then skinned, treated with borax, dried in the

sun or in heated tents, and carefully packed in sealed
containers with paradichlorobenzene crystals to prevent
insect damage. At several-month intervals they were picked
up by military aircraft in Esmeralda. Skulls were tagged and
saved separately for shipment with the skins. Small animals
were stuffed with cotton as “study skins.” Hides of large ones
were tanned after shipment to the Smithsonian.

Ultimately, specimens were divided between the Smithsonian

and Venezuela’s national collection where they will be
protected in perpetuity. Some are only now being recognized
as new species.

To collect or not to collect?

Such specimens may provide the only documentation of

historic wildlife and the habitats they once occupied. Many of
the species collected in the 1960s likely no longer exist at the
locations where they were then found. They’ve fallen victim to
human expansion and habitat loss.

Before animals can be studied or understood, they have to be

described based on unique characteristics and given names
that can be used in field keys to allow future scientists (and
conservationists) to reliably identify them. A jaguar is easily
recognized, but many other animals are not. A wide range of
characteristics can be used to differentiate less distinctive
species. For example, does a bat have a nose leaf or not?
Does it have a tail or not? How long is its forearm? Or does it
have unique patterns on its fur such as white stripes? A few
species are only now being discovered because they differ in
characteristics not readily visible, such as what kind of
echolocation calls they use.

Specimens in museums provide a basis for modern research.

Without them, reliable identification often would be
impossible. And without such ability, a species’ ecosystem
contributions or conservation needs could not be reliably
determined. Furthermore, legislative or other protection of
endangered species could be rendered hopeless. Merlin
Tuttle, now a leading conservationist explains:

“As we become more familiar with animal sophistications, we

increasingly face a dilemma—to collect or not to collect? How can
we justify killing animals we love in order to save their species?
This is not an easily resolved controversy. However, without
specimens, often those collected long ago and preserved in
museums, it might not even be possible to prioritize regions of
special significance for preservation of biodiversity. Many places
where we collected in the 1960s are now overwhelmed with
civilization leaving our collections as the only record of historic
wildlife and their needs.”
Merlin D. Tuttle

Onward and upward

When Merlin established a base camp at Belén, he had

hoped to collect on top of both of the adjacent tepuis.
Surrounded by sheer cliffs, animals and plants that lived there
were isolated on ecological islands that supported unique
flora and fauna, including some endemic species like the
Monte Duida frog.

Cerro Duida would be attempted first, proving to be an

extreme challenge, so much so that plans to also survey atop
Cerro Huachamacare had to be abandoned. Duida had a
summit plateau covering more than 400 square miles at an
elevation of approximately 4,600 feet (1,400 m), and its
summit rose to 7,736 feet (2,358 m). Tuttle would spend a
month in this unique environment.

Google Earth view of Belen Base Camp and Cerro Duida

Chapter 3:
Climbing and
 Collecting on
Cerro Duida

Fred Harder (wearing hat) and Merlin Tuttle embarking on a month-long collecting trip
atop the tepui Cerro Duida with several of their team. Cerro Huachamacare, another
tepui, is seen in background.

The unique ecosystems of Cerro Duida

Meticulous preparations were required for the climb and

subsequent month-long collecting atop Cerro Duida. This
extra large tepui, a table-top mountain, abruptly rises to a
plateau area covering more than 420 square miles, at
elevations ranging from 4,600 to nearly 7,800 feet.
The mountain had previously been explored only on the
south side. An American Museum of Natural History botanical
expedition had scaled that side in 1928-1929, reporting
dramatic changes in vegetation. Merlin’s team would scale
the north side, providing the first glimpse of animal life. He
hoped that a month would be sufficient for his seven-man
team to sample the mountain’s unique ecosystems.

Villagers assembled to see the men off on the morning of

January 11, 1967. Merlin and Fred’s wives, Claudette and
Virginia, remained at base camp, supervising local village
collectors. The couples communicated via letters sent
back-and-forth by couriers, along with fresh plantains and an
occasional can of peas. The expedition, lead by Merlin Tuttle,
included Fred Harder and five Maquiritare men, all eagerly
anticipating this grand adventure on a climb none had
previously made.
 Merlin Tuttle in his attic, opening the contents of three of the fiberglass cases used on
the Smithsonian Venezuelan Project in the 1960s. Photo Credit: Paula Tuttle

The Maquiritare, accompanied by their dogs, were incredibly

vigorous with unlimited stamina. Most hauled fiberglass
cases, each loaded with 55 pounds of supplies, except for
Gonzales, a virtual iron man who enjoyed demonstrating his
superior strength. He insisted on carrying an 80-pound pack.

Packs were suspended from foreheads or chests using wide

straps made from tree bark (Seen in the top photo). They
contained everything necessary for specimen collecting and
processing, along with camp supplies and food. Merlin and
Fred were the only ones outfitted with traditional backpacks.

Crossing a small savannah and wading a stream, they soon

began hacking their way with machetes through dense
vegetation, beginning a steep, trailless climb. Despite their
heavy packs, the men would climb more than 2,000 feet of
nearly vertical terrain, often relying on large vines and ledges
to haul themselves up.

Midway, they had stopped to enjoy the spectacle of a nearly

thousand-foot waterfall, when the dogs suddenly charged into
the forest. They had scented a giant anteater, the first
specimen collected.

Deadly snake encounter

Returning to the climb, one of the Maquiritare spotted an

almost invisible but deadly snake, an eight-foot long
bushmaster. This snake’s venom has relatively low toxicity.
However, using three-quarter-inch fangs, it can inject so
much venom that bites are nearly always fatal.
The Maquiritare quickly retreated some 50 feet away. Since
this was a mammal-collecting expedition, Merlin hadn’t
intended to collect snakes, but he couldn’t resist having a
closer look. They were astonished when Tuttle announced
that he wanted to capture it alive. He knew that the Institute of
Tropical Medicine in Caracas desperately needed one for
production of antivenom. He hoped to send the snake
downriver to Esmeralda from where it could be flown to
Caracas.

Backing up to a safe distance, Merlin prepared for the

unexpected capture. He quickly emptied clothes from a
heavy-duty plastic bag in his pack and removed his
shoelaces. In the meantime, he asked one of the Maquiritare
to cut a sturdy six-foot pole from a nearby sapling. He tied the
shoelaces together, formed a slipknot loop at one end, and
securely fastened the shoelaces to his pole.

He then returned and slowly approached the coiled snake.

Meanwhile, his Maquiritare helpers begged him to stop before
he got bit, warning him it was sure death.

Heart pounding, he very cautiously slipped the noose over

the snake’s head and tightened it. The powerful snake
immediately attempted to escape but was gradually dragged
from its hiding place. Merlin had no option but to grasp it
behind the neck.

Meanwhile, the snake frantically attempted to imbed its long

fangs in Merlin’s fingers and coiled its powerful body around
anything within reach in an attempt to free itself. He was
terrified to see its fangs reaching within less than half an inch
of his hand. This was something he hadn’t anticipated. Nor
did it get any easier when he had to release one hand to
open the plastic bag and begin stuffing the snake’s writhing
coils inside.

Finally, he had to pin the snake’s head to the ground with his
boot while releasing his hand from its neck and quickly tying
off the top of the bag. He was never again tempted to try such
a feat!

That accomplished, he found that none of his helpers wanted

to risk carrying the bagged snake back to base camp. He
ended up having to pay nearly a month’s wages to induce
one of the men to carry it back suspended from the end of a
6-foot pole.

Imagine what Claudette felt, when she received the bagged

snake with instructions on how to contain it and keep it alive
until they returned!

The group resumed the climb. And several hours later, they
crested the summit not far from a waterfall. The spectacle
was breathtaking. Approximately 90% of the plants were
unique (endemic) at the genus level from any encountered
below. One had the impression of having traveled far, far
away from Belén.
Though the Maquiritare didn’t seem to be much worse for the
wear, Merlin and Fred were exhausted. Added to the
suffering, Fred had slipped and grabbed the spiny trunk of an
astrocaria palm, the equivalent of grabbing a porcupine.

Tired, the Smithsonian Venezuelan expedition team, rests after reaching the Cerro
Duida plateau.

Camp 1: on the edge

They quickly cleared an area for the first camp less than 100
feet from a gorgeous view of their base camp in Belén some
2,000 feet below. Several miles beyond Belén, they could
also view the similarly spectacular cliffs of Cerro Duida’s
sister tepui, Cerro Huachamacare.
On Cerro Duida, from the first camp, the view of Belén base camp. Photo Credit: Merlin
Tuttle

They didn’t just encounter unique vegetation; they were now

faced with a very different cloud-forest climate. With little
warning, a single passing cloud could deluge their camp.
They had to take turns drying their bedding and clothing in
the sun, ready to cover them beneath a tarp at a moment’s
notice. Fortunately, Merlin had anticipated much cooler
nights, so had provided the team with sleeping bags.

The Tuttles and Harders had a system of signaling with

flashlights so they would know if there were problems or if all
was well. The group spent three weeks at this camp, and the
flashlight signals worked for a while. Eventually, other
villagers joined in the fun, and it became an unreliable form of
communication. The couples gave up on light signals and
sent letters back and forth with couriers who went down the
mountain to base camp for plantains and incidentals.

Virginia devised a clever method of communicating with Fred,

by writing letters to him that he could quickly and efficiently
respond to, by checking off boxes of possible answers to
questions she had: Dear, a checkbox for wife, honey, or
sweetheart. We have gotten, and a checkbox for lots, few, or
no animals. We are, and either wet or dry. Once completed,
the letter was returned to her by the courier.

The Cerro Duida expedition had sleeping bags for the cool nights at 5,000 ft. elevation.

Collecting on Cerro Duida

Collecting also proved challenging. They could hardly force

their way through dense forests to set nets or traps on the
plateau. Merlin even climbed down the cliff face to set traps
along narrow, vegetation-covered ledges up to 50 feet below
the top. However, the only rats captured there were also
common on the plateau.

Similarly, the only good site available where bats could be

netted was on a narrow ridge extending out from the cliff face
some 50 feet below the top. Bats that apparently rode
thermals up the cliff could be netted at this unique location,
but a misstep could’ve plunged a netter into the forest more
than a thousand feet below.

A total of 48 bats were netted there, belonging to four genera

and five species. Surprisingly, more than half belonged to
three species of nectar-feeding bats, yet the team didn’t see
any flowers known to be bat-pollinated.
 One of many tank (bomeliads) plants on Cerro Duido

It was later reported that more than 20 species of tank plants

(bromeliads that trap and hold water) rely on bats for
pollination. Given the countless tank plants found farther
inland on the plateau, Merlin now wonders if possibly these
plants may have been providing a feast for otherwise lowland
bats that could easily ride thermals to reach them, like similar
bats appear to do in the Andes.

Despite all the hard work to build their first camp, they
captured a total of 155 mammals there. However, the team
did capture one new species, later named the Eldorado
broad-nosed bat (Platyrrhinus aurarius) by Dr. Handley. The
next camp would prove more productive of varied species.
Camp 2: farther inland

At the end of the first week, Merlin sent two of their

Maquiritare helpers out with machetes to clear a trail and
scout for new habitats for a second campsite. They reported
a wide variety of habitats. In some areas, a misty rain fell
almost continuously, and everything was covered in several
inches of moss and lichens, favorable habitat for poison dart
frogs. In others, three- to six-foot-tall tank plants dominated.

Preparing Camp 2 on Cerro Duida

A site with taller forest and less rain, some 10 miles farther
inland, was finally chosen for the second camp. Initially, the
trail followed just above the cliff face where there were
spectacular views and less vegetation. Eventually they had to
turn inland. Merlin recalls that it took two of his men about a
week to machete through the dense vegetation inland to
create a trail for the rest of the team to follow.

As the trail began to traverse the undulating plateau, unstable

ground often felt like walking on jelly. Everything quivered
under foot. Mats of dense moss and roots often hid cavities
beneath, making hiking treacherous. The trail repeatedly
crossed erosion crevasses, some of which were sheer drops
of 10 or more feet to subterranean streams, heard but not
seen. The men repeatedly broke through. It’s a wonder they
escaped with no more than bruises.

Furthermore, where the trail passed through areas of dense

tank plants, the going was made even more miserable as
water spilled from the plants onto the hikers. Tank plants,
aptly named for their tendency to trap and hold large
quantities of rainwater, would dump it on anyone attempting
to use the narrow trail.

Wet, bruised, and exhausted, much work remained to be

done before a new camp could be established. Seemingly
endless trees, some large, had to be cleared to let the sun in.
Without direct sun, mold would quickly consume the camp,
and specimens could not be dried for preservation.

Tree clearing was tricky and dangerous, but Gonzales was an

expert. He would cut a dozen or more, none of which would
initially fall because they were held together by vines. He had
to plan carefully, leaving a larger tree near the middle for the
final cut. The real challenge was to fell the largest tree,
without being trapped when the rest all fell at once.

Merlin and Maqiritari team building a camp on Cerro Duida

Felled trees couldn’t just be left in jumbled piles. A massive

tangle of leaves, vines, and branches had to be cleared.
Then they had to be cut into pieces used to make floors,
benches, and work tables.

The site was located less than 100 feet from one of the area’s
rare surface springs. Water was redirected from the spring to
the camp via an open flue duct made from lengthy pieces of
bark. Worktables, sleeping areas, and the kitchen were
shielded from rain, using light-weight tarps tied firmly over
cords between trees.
Even eating was a challenge. Merlin and Fred were
vegetarians and survived on little more than a mixture of
oatmeal, Carnation Instant Breakfast, and occasional
plantains delivered by the couriers. (This was long before
dehydrated meals for backpackers became widely available).
The Maquiritare sometimes supplemented their diet of mostly
manioc and cassava (a staple food of the South American
frontier) with a plantain, mixed with monkey meat and local
wild honey. These were mixed into a rather strange stew.
They offered to share, but Merlin and Fred had no appetite for
monkey! (The monkey skulls and skins became part of the
Smithsonian collection.)

Merlin eating his oatmeal breakfast at Camp 2. Cooking was done over a small Primus
stove.

Bats and rats

Rodent collecting went especially well at the second camp,
far better than at the first where only two species were
collected. A variety of tall forest and open tank plant habitats
yielded 60 rodents of five genera and nine species, including
a new species of climbing mouse.

Good bat netting sites were nearly impossible to find. Yet, by

climbing slender trees that protruded above the tank plants,
the team managed to precariously spread 42-foot mist nets
tied with cords of varying length to the trees instead of poles.
Removal of captured bats required at least one team member
to climb a tree, release one end of the net, and lower it to a
partner waiting on the ground. And, as if that weren’t enough,
they seemed to have a knack for catching unwanted owls!

Nevertheless, in the two weeks at Camp 2, the team

managed to capture 60 bats of four genera and five species,
all nectar- or fruit-eaters. Again, they were unable to discover
which plants the bats were servicing.

Insect-eaters were conspicuous by their absence. Nets must

be especially well set to fool them. Failure to catch such bats
likely resulted from sagging nets being easier for these
generally smaller, more maneuverable species to detect and
avoid.

Back to base camp, 4-5 weeks later

The return to base camp covered some 15 miles of

extraordinarily rugged hiking in a single day. An overnight
camp in increasingly frequent rain was simply not feasible.
Merlin and one of the Maquiritare men had returned a week
earlier to begin preparation for the expedition’s departure.

A week later, exhausted, but nearly back to base camp, the

rest of the team encountered a big surprise when about an
hour away. Jaguars normally attempt to avoid humans unless
cornered. Nevertheless, they met one that apparently was
exceptionally hungry or in a very bad mood. When the porters
spotted it brazenly blocking the trail ahead, they gathered in a
group, facing out, machetes in hand. As they waved and
hollered, the big cat simply took a cautious step forward.
They were unarmed except for a .22 pistol loaded with dust
shot for collecting, and even it was buried in a pack. While
one man frantically unpacked it, the others stood guard
brandishing their machetes. When several shots were fired
into the air, the cat simply disappeared into the surrounding
vegetation. Half an hour later the men warily resumed their
return.

Next camp: Yanomamö land

In late February 1967, the crew packed and headed back

down to the New Tribes Mission headquarters in Tamatama
to replenish supplies and deliver some 1,800 carefully packed
specimens of approximately 100 species (the combined total
for Belén and Cerro Duida) for shipment to the Smithsonian.

The expedition got back in their dugout canoes, motored

down the Rio Cunacunuma to the Orinoco, and eventually on
to the Rio Mavaca which took them to Boca Mavaca, their
next destination. This was Yanomamö land!

In his 1969 book Yanomamö: The Fierce People, the

anthropologist, Napoleon Chagnon, in the footnote on page 1
writes:

"On my second trip, January through March 1967, I spent two

months among Brazilian Yanomamö and one more month with the
Venezuelan Yanomamö."
Napolean A. Chagnon, Anthropologist

Chapter 4:
Yanomamö and
Boca Mavaca
The SVP expedition motored from Belen on the Rio Cunacunuma to the Orinoco,
and finally the Rio Mavaca into Yanomamö land

Hoping for the first convert

On completion of work on Cerro Duida, the expedition

traveled back down the Rio Cunacunuma to Tamatama,
the location of the New Tribes Mission headquarters
where they had stockpiled supplies.

After replenishing gasoline and other necessities, the

team headed up the Orinoco to Boca Mavaca, so named
because of its location at the confluence of the Orinoco
and Mavaca rivers. They were guided by Cecil Neese, a
New Tribes missionary.
Cecil had been among the first to survive early contact
with the aboriginal Yanomamö. In his 18 years attempting
to win converts, he had learned their language and
customs at a village named Bisaasi-teri. The Yanomamö
had been a real challenge. He was still hoping for his first
convert!

The village where he worked was spread across both

sides of the Rio Mavaca. On the other side, his fellow
missionary, Jim Barker, was already assisting
anthropologist Napolean Chagnon in his ethnographic
field work on the Yanomamö.

Cecil Neese had kindly agreed to guide and interpret for

Merlin’s work among the Yanomamö. His knowledge of
customs and the language would prove invaluable. The
group’s first night’s experience with Cecil proved
memorable.
 Unloading equipment at Boca Mavaca with Cecil Neese (tall man in hat). Cecil
acted as host and interpreter while with the Yanomamö.

Army ant invasion

For one-night stays while traveling, the group simply

slept in hammocks strung between trees, protected by
mosquito nets and large tarps.

Cecil had warned them to coat hammock ropes with

kerosene to repel unwanted critters, particularly ants.
However, Merlin’s wife, Claudette, objected to the odor,
so didn’t allow hers to be treated.

At two o’clock the next morning, the entire group

suddenly were awakened by Claudette’s terrified
screams. The camp had been invaded by countless
thousands of army ants, and hundreds had already
entered Claudette’s hammock and were inflicting painful
bites.

With treated ropes, the rest of the group was safe—that

is until they had to bail out barefooted to rescue
Claudette. The moment exposed feet touched ground,
they too were bitten as the group frantically grabbed for
headlamps and aerosol cans of insecticide. Claudette’s
mosquito net had to be saturated with her still inside.
There was no escape.

Army ants are famous for attacking prey en masse. A

meter-wide column of half-inch-long, black ants had
silently invaded camp, then spread to cover everything.
From that night on, no one ever again failed to have their
hammock ropes treated!

Dos and don’ts

The next morning, as the team continued upriver, Cecil

explained some basic dos and don’ts. Never show a
Yanomamö a photo of themselves taken with our
polaroid camera. It could easily be mistaken as proof that
we had stolen a person’s soul, the equivalent of murder,
with immediate revenge taken! He also warned of ferocity
challenges. They would soon begin testing team member
responses to a variety of surprises, some as apparent
threats. There was no respect for the meek. Timidity
would be endlessly exploited.
With a wink, Cecil explained that he had done Merlin and
Fred what he hoped would be a big favor. He had warned
the Yanomamö that unlike the missionaries, these men
could be dangerous if provoked. He hoped this would
convey useful respect, since ferocity determined a man’s
leadership in the community.

On arrival at Bisaasi-teri, the men quickly volunteered to

help carry heavy equipment up to the group’s chosen
campsite just 100 feet from the village entry. Meanwhile,
the women didn’t hesitate to explore the clothing of
Claudette and Virginia in ways definitely not in keeping
with western standards of propriety. The missionaries
had tried to convince the Yanomamö to wear
western-style clothing with some amusing results. For
example, one man was seen proudly wearing a woman’s
bra.

The team set up camp near where Napoleon described

his first encounter with the tribe in his then
about-to-be-published book titled Yanomamö: The Fierce
People. Led by Jim Barker, Napolean arrived the day after
enemies had abducted seven women in a fierce battle. In
his book, he describes that encounter:

“I looked up and gasped when I saw a dozen burly, naked,

filthy, hideous men staring at us down the shafts of their drawn
arrows!”
Napolean Chagnon, anthropologist
Yanomamö painting curare (causes muscle paralysis) on arrow tips preparing for
a raid against an enemy village

Living with the Yanomamö

Life among the Yanomamö was full of challenges. Except

during brief times when Cecil was available, all
communication had to pass from English to Spanish
through Maquiritare-speaking Gonzalez for translation
into Yanomamö.

Beyond language barriers, team members had to

carefully balance between appearing too timid versus
aggressive. For example, Merlin quickly learned the
dangers potentially posed even by women. One of his
first photographic subjects was a cute little boy whose
mother promptly objected. He could only guess what she
was saying, but her tone of voice and gestures made it
clear he was being ordered to stop. Meanwhile, several
grinning men were looking on with interest. Would he
allow a mere woman to intimidate him? Fearing loss of
face, he quickly snapped one more picture and nearly
paid dearly when the angry mother picked up a
softball-sized rock and hurled it at his head with deadly
accuracy. He was saved from serious injury only because
the rock glanced off his camera.

On another occasion, several men skillfully followed

Merlin into the forest without his knowledge. They
feigned an attack while he was checking traps. Silently,
one snuck up to within a few feet before deliberately
snapping a twig. When Merlin looked around, he was
facing a fierce-looking warrior with a seven-foot,
curare-tipped arrow aimed at his chest. Surmising that
he’d already have been shot if the man was serious, he
simply pushed the arrow aside with one hand and tickled
with the other, the man went helpless with laughter.
Yanomamö couldn’t stand to be tickled.
This is the cute boy whose mother stoned Merlin for taking an extra photograph.
Photo Credit: Merlin Tuttle

Perpetually at war

The outcome of such tests could indeed be funny. But it

sometimes was hard to differentiate between harmless
tests and serious life and death threats. The villagers
seemed perpetually at war, and enemy warriors were
rumored to sometimes attack those viewed to be friends
of their enemies.

A year earlier, presumed friends from another village had

abducted seven women while Bisaasi-teri men were away
hunting game for a feast in honor of the visitors. Of
course, the returning hunters were outraged and
immediately left in pursuit. They attacked at night, fairly
easily recovering their wives. But they apparently got
greedy and tried to take more than just their wives. The
battle stiffened and, according to Cecil’s understanding,
two men from the neighboring village were killed. This
was felt to be unfair, given that fighting over women,
theoretically, was presumed not to justify killing. Thus,
men from the village found it necessary to take revenge
by killing an equal number of men from the originally
wronged village. Obviously, such vendettas could go on
indefinitely, and did. While working with the Yanomamö,
the team could never be certain of who they might meet
in the forest.

Bisaasi-teri warrior painted in charcoal to conceal himself while waiting in ambush

to raid an enemy village. Both Yanomamö and Shamatari men (closely related) tie
their penises up by the foreskin. It would be highly improper to be seen in public
without being tied up.

Hunting and trapping with the Yanomamö

Bisaasi-teri men proved to be outstanding hunters and
trappers, enabling team members to spend less time out
in the forest. The men especially loved their rat traps,
once they learned how to set them. They seemed to know
exactly where every rat lived and what would tempt it into
a trap. Each interested man was loaned five traps, and
whenever a rat was caught, they would come running
back with it yelling, “torobo, torobo.”

When Napolean Chagnon heard of Merlin’s trapping

success, he invited him to capture those rats stealing
grain from his thatched hut across the river. The result
was pleasing to all concerned. One of his pests turned
out to be a new species of arboreal rat that seldom came
out of the forest canopy.

Hunters and conservation

The Yanomamö were also talented observers who led

team members to surprising discoveries. For example,
they were aware that white bats sometimes could be
seen feeding over the river, surrounded by white
swallows. At first, Merlin simply assumed they didn’t
know the difference. Nevertheless, when one of his most
trusted Yanomamö hunters insisted on showing him,
Merlin quickly realized this was a very different bat. Now
the problem was, how to collect it?

There was no way to stretch even a 12-meter net across

50 meters of open river. The only alternative was one
Merlin knew well from his early days of collecting in
Tennessee—a shotgun loaded with #12 dust shot. When
he began studying bats, neither mist nets nor traps,
which he would later invent, (see Blog 2, the Tuttle Trap)
were yet available. Those who studied bats were forced
to rely on hand nets or shotguns.

For anyone who thinks hunters can’t be

conservationists, Merlin points to the fact that
historically America’s greatest conservation leaders,
from Roosevelt and Audubon to Merriam, began as
hunters. He never took pleasure in animal suffering,
never shot or trapped more than needed, and always
worked hard to overcome needless human persecution
or careless exploitation.
 Northern ghost bat (Diclidurus albus) a relative of Isabelle's ghost bat

Isabelle’s ghost bat

Within minutes, Merlin was clambering into a small

dugout canoe, shotgun in hand. His quarry was showing
very unbatlike behavior, flying in the middle of a flock of
swallows, as they traveled up and down the river feeding
in the late afternoon sun. Chasing after them in a tippy
canoe was hopeless. The craft was so small, he feared
falling overboard from simply firing his 16-gauge
shotgun. Thus, he had his most reliable assistant, Sido
Hernandez, position their canoe at the mid-point in the
flock’s circular flight path where they waited impatiently.
As the flock approached, Merlin checked his balance,
aimed and fired. The bat fell, and Sido fought to keep the
canoe upright amid Merlin’s screams. “Quick! Paddle
fast! We’ve got to get it before a fish does!” Moments
later Merlin snatched his first ghost bat from the river,
along with several unfortunate swallows who also joined
the Smithsonian collection.

Back in camp, he used his new bat key to confirm he’d

just collected the first Isabelle’s ghost bat (Diclidurus
isabellus) seen since one had been discovered dead and
assigned a name by British taxonomist Olfield Thomas in
1920. Over the following week, Merlin’s team discovered
that the species was relatively abundant. However,
because it never fed low over land or small streams
where it could be mist netted, the species had long
escaped notice.

He soon observed that these bats continued feeding low

over the river, long after the swallows went to sleep. By
cutting five-gallon oil cans to form reflectors with
lanterns inside, and cruising the river searching, his
team added eight more to the Smithsonian collection.
Later, they would find more at localities ranging widely
from the Casiquiare Canal to San Juan de Manapiare.

Nevertheless, scientists still know almost nothing about

this elusive bat, though it likely occurs over a much
wider range. Where does it roost? What does it eat, and
what does it need to survive? Merlin believes he has the
solution and wishes a student of the future an exciting
discovery. His idea—light-weight fly fishing tackle,
casting a tiny fly with a barbless hook onto the water in
front of a feeding bat (harmless to bats). When an
Isabelle’s ghost bat grabs it, simply reel it in, attach a
tiny radio transmitter to its back, and be the first to
discover one’s roost.

Thanks to the expert assistance of the Yanomamö

hunters over the next four weeks, the expedition was
able to collect 524 mammals of 76 species. This may
sound like a threat to the mammal fauna. However, Tuttle
is quick to point out that on average, they took fewer
than seven specimens per species out of more than a
hundred and probably missed more than 25 entirely. That
was barely a dent, considering the diversity and numbers
of species present.
Yanomamo warrior dressed for a raid with headdress of monkey tail and vulture
feathers. Photo Credit: Merlin Tuttle

Raiding rituals
Merlin reminisces they could have done even better had
it not been for many of the men leaving for over a week
to carry out a raid against another village. One of his
most memorable evenings was the one he spent
observing preparations for the raid.

Several days in advance, women had chewed plantain

and spit it into a bark trough where it was mixed with
water and ashes of their fellow warriors who had been
killed in the last raid against them. They had been
cremated and their ashes stored for this special
occasion.

The men donned bird- and monkey-tail apparel, assisted

by their wives who painted their bodies using bright red
dye from seed pods and charcoal mixed with spit. Finally,
a black monkey tail would be wrapped around a man’s
head and covered in white vulture down by his wife.

When all was complete, an emotional ceremony began.

The now alcoholic beverage, containing ashes of
cremated corpses, was drunk from gourds. Soon groups
of men began trotting in circles in front of their shabonos
(lean-tos). It was quite a spectacle, as groups of
decorated men brandished bows and seven-foot arrows
and screamed threats. Echoes from the forest were
interpreted as spirits of the deceased, encouraging them
to be fierce in avenging their deaths.
 Yanomamö ritual drinking a fermented beverage containing the ashes of their
dead. Photo Credit: Merlin Tuttle

Bat netting in abandoned village

Soon after the raiders returned, they informed Merlin that
another village, some 20 miles upriver, had been
temporarily abandoned. The village bordered a
mountainous area that supported an especially rich
fauna where lowland and highland species converged.

Merlin had been tempted to sample the area, but had not
been able to, because village warriors had threatened to
kill any outsiders who invaded their territory. On hearing
of their temporary departure, Merlin immediately
organized an exploratory trip, with Sido operating one of
their motorized dugouts. They planned to spend an
evening netting bats there, but apparently their
informants were mistaken. Soon after tying off their
canoe and heading into the forest in search of netting
sites, they heard the unmistakable sound of a large
group of Yanomamö men passing along a riverside trail.

The men couldn’t miss seeing their large canoe and

would recognize it belonged to invaders. Merlin and Sido
quickly froze behind the buttress of a large tree. What
would the warriors do? Would they attempt an attack, cut
their canoe loose, depriving them of an escape, or simply
wait in ambush for Merlin and Sido’s return?

When the forest suddenly became eerily silent, they

assumed an ambush. Fearing a prompt return, they
waited for what seemed like forever—till two o’clock in
the morning–before attempting a return. They crept along
as quietly as possible, hands covering headlamps,
allowing just tiny slits of light to guide them. Luckily the
canoe was still present. However, they were terrified of
the noise they would create pushing off and starting the
motor. As Sido crept back to the motor, Merlin waited to
shove off, both expected to be struck by an arrow.
Fortunately, it was a moonless night and they breathed a
huge sigh of relief when they had finally drifted far
enough to dare start the outboard motor.

Founder of Panthera.org and conservationist, Dr. Alan

Rabinowitz, while a graduate student, had done bat field
work with Merlin. Inside his book, Jaguar: Struggles and
Triumph in the Jungles of Belize, he signed a copy to
Merlin as so:

"To Merlin, the man who taught me what real field work is all
about. I knew after surviving with you that I could do
anything--Alan"
Alan Rabinowitz, author of Jaguar

Jaguar?

Merlin was thankful to have escaped. Nevertheless, he

was tempted to sample at what he hoped would be a safe
distance from the reported-to-be enemy village. Several
days later, he ordered his camp moved 10 miles upriver,
to an area still ostensibly controlled by the Bisaasi-teri
village. Two of their men were hired to accompany the
expedition, though communication remained difficult.
Just as Merlin’s expectations were proving true, he was
forced to flee. It all began as he, Fred, Gonzalez, and two
Bisaasi-teri Yanomamö had begun netting the first few
bats of the evening. As a Jamaican-fruit-eating bat gave a
distress call a nearby jaguar growled. This was far from
the first time Merlin had had a hungry jaguar attempt to
frighten him into abandoning what the cat perceived to
be potential prey.

He handed the bat to one of his helpers, grabbed his

16-gauge shotgun, changed the load to buckshot, and
proceeded to hunt the cat. However, when the next growl
came from an all new direction his Yanomamö helpers
immediately insisted the sounds were from enemy
Yanomamö, not from a jaguar. He initially discounted
them, assuming they were merely attempting to frighten
him into quitting work early.

When Merlin persisted in his hunt, a growl from a third

location spooked even him and had his Yanomamö men
running for the canoe. He quickly joined them, leaving
the nets behind. The next morning, when they returned to
retrieve the nets, they were hanging limp. All the main
strands had been cleverly removed, unmistakable
evidence of enemy presence. Yanomamö men were well
known to prize nylon net cords for tying tips onto their
7-foot arrows.

The team quickly broke camp between heavy downpours.

A rainy season, claimed to be the worst in a hundred
years, soon had them searching for a new campsite
secure from a more than 20-foot rise in water level.
Surviving deluges of rain and massive flooding would be
their next challenge.

Aerial view of flooding of Amazonas Territory in 1967

Chapter 5:
Shamatari
Adventure
 Shamatari family sharing guama fruit with Merlin. Photo Credit: Merlin Tuttle

While working at his new camp at Boca Mavaca, Merlin

noticed two men, who were conspicuous by their
extraordinary curiosity. When he questioned Cecil Neese,
his local host, he learned they were visiting from a
distant Shamatari village. Cecil explained that he and
anthropologist, Napoleon Chagnon, (see Blog 4,
Yanomamö and Boca Mavaca) had visited their village a
year earlier, staying just one night. That had been the
village’s first contact from the outside world. When
Merlin learned of this, he was immediately overwhelmed
with curiosity to see for himself.
He asked his Yanomamö and Maquiritare guides, Ramón
and Gonzales, to accompany him. (Ramón was a name
given by missionaries, not his actual Yanomamö name.)
However, both refused. Merlin recalls, “My guys said, No
way, they didn’t want anything to do with such a trip.
They knew far better than me how dangerous it was. But I
finally persuaded them by offering each a couple of
months’ pay for a several day trip.”

The trip was tricky from the beginning. They had to climb
15 feet of vertical vines from the Mavaca River just to
reach the trail head. It had rained all night the night
before, and the trail was wet and slippery. While Merlin
carried a 45-pound pack (including his 16-mm Bolex
movie camera, a tripod and film), their Shamatari guides,
unencumbered, kept a fast pace, just short of a trot.
Merlin’s pedometer indicated 5-miles per hour. The
jungle was like a huge steam bath. They had to wade
flooding streams every few minutes, keeping them
soaked. Merlin’s glasses were continuously fogged, with
so much sweat running down them, he could barely see.
His wet pants rubbed his knees raw. Large blisters on his
heels broke and hurt like hell.

By the time they stopped for the night at about 5 PM,

they had covered 20 miles. Merlin was so exhausted he
felt like he’d die if he couldn’t get to food and a hammock
quickly. Only then did he discover the reason for the
day’s blistering pace.
As Gonzales, Ramón, and Merlin began unpacking their
hammocks beside a beautiful, crystal-clear stream, they
noticed the two Shamatari were preparing to spend the
night by themselves well away from them. Gonzales
immediately became suspicious, so he and Ramón went
over to have a chat with them. They admitted fearing
enemy attack. Though reluctantly invited, Merlin,
Gonzales, and Ramón quickly joined them.

The problems just seemed to cascade. When Merlin

began preparing his evening meal, he discovered that all
but Gonzales were assuming he would feed them. Yet,
due to weight limitations, he had barely brought enough
food for himself. He finally boiled about a gallon of water
over a small fire to which he added a cup of powdered
milk, a cup and a half of oats, and a package of
dehydrated tomato soup intended to make a quart.
Gonzales added a couple handfuls of his dried manioc
(made from ground up yuca). For guys who hadn’t eaten
since their morning departure, it ended up a rather tasty
concoction!

At midnight, they were hit with heavy rain, and Merlin

spent the remainder of the night soaked and shivering.
His hammock was longer than those of his men, so didn’t
fit beneath the temporary shelter they had constructed
from vines and overlapping palm leaves.

They were up at the crack of dawn and left in great haste

without breakfast, rushing to evade potential enemy
attack. They again averaged five miles per hour, arriving
at the village by mid-day. As they approached, the
Shamatari men made bird calls, apparently to alert the
village that they weren’t the enemy.

Shamatari young men and boys playing a game with an inflated animal bladder.
Photo Credit: Merlin Tuttle

Curiosity went both ways

Villagers enthusiastically welcomed Merlin and his

companions and offered places to hang their hammocks
beneath one of the village’s 13 shabonos (lean-to
shelters). To his surprise, Merlin had barely unloaded his
gear when they began offering to show him local bats.
They seemed a bit puzzled to find him more interested in
them than the bats he was rumored to love.
The curiosity went both ways. They were also extremely
curious about Merlin and nearly everything he owned.
They were endlessly fascinated with extendable tripod
legs, with the moving hands and sounds from Merlin’s
watch, and with his ability to cut an apparent rock (a tin
can) open to obtain food.

When they asked to borrow essential items, such as

Merlin’s glasses, he had to be especially careful that they
weren’t mistaken to be gifts. Without Cecil, he had to
speak Spanish to his Maquiritare interpreter, Gonzales,
who translated into Yanomamö for Ramón who assisted
with the Shamatari dialect. There was ample opportunity
for error!

That evening, Gonzales explained to Merlin what he

should do if there was a night-time raid. He had
confirmed that a raid was believed to be imminent. He
told Merlin that he should simply fall to the ground and
play dead, because there would be no hope of knowing
who was friend versus enemy in the ensuing melee.
All hell broke loose

At sundown, three men started taking ebene (a powdered

hallucinogen obtained from the bark of a local tree)
blown up each other’s noses with a wooden pipe till they
were high enough to communicate with the hekura
(spirits). They then ran around the village shooting
arrows at hallucinated hekura. Merlin lay perfectly still in
his hammock, listening as their arrows struck the thatch.
He couldn’t help wondering if one of the hallucinating
guys was going to mistake him for a spirit and shoot him.
Imagining how it would feel, he was plenty scared.

Just as the shooting had finally started to die down a bit,

and Merlin thought he might survive, he reported:
 "All hell broke loose, people--screaming and hollering! It's
difficult to even imagine the sounds that can come out of
terrified aborigines. As instructed, I baled out of my hammock
and played dead. People were tripping over me, as I was trying
hard to pretend, believing people were being shot and dying. It
seemed like forever, but it was probably just a few minutes.
Finally, it got very quiet. Then I heard approaching footsteps.
Was this enemy warriors checking to make sure there were no
survivors? I held my breath and tried to look as dead as
possible. Suddenly, I heard Gonzales' unmistakable laughter. It
had all been a false alarm, and I was the only casualty! Ramón
and Gonzales found it very funny."
Merlin Tuttle

Apparently, a guy had gone out to relieve himself, and

when somebody saw, but didn’t recognize him, an alarm
had been sounded.

A continuous adventure

Life with the Shamatari was a continuous adventure. To

Merlin, their way of life, and everything they did, was
fascinating. In just his first two days of what ended up
being a week, he was able to film a wide variety of
simple, but impressively sophisticated, approaches to
survival in the rain forest.

They used vines to weave baskets and sturdy

hammocks, tree bark to make harnesses for carrying
heavy loads, gourds for eating utensils, and animal teeth
for knives. They grew their own cotton, and the women
were extremely clever at using small, pierced stones,
combined with hardwood sticks, to quickly spin thread (a
drop spindle).

Shamatari woman weaving a basket in hand-woven hammock

Shamatari woman picking cotton in the garden
 Shamatari woman spinning cotton from their garden into thread

Powerful bows were made from the hardwood of certain

palms. The seven-foot arrows required extra mass to
minimize deflection caused by dense forest foliage.
Arrow heads were interchangeable, some large and flat,
others about the diameter of a pencil. The latter were
used for hunting monkeys high up in the forest canopy
and for killing enemy humans. These heads were made
of hardwood, each with three circular cuts at about
two-inch intervals. Coated with curare from jungle vines,
they would shatter into the equivalent of shrapnel on
entry into a target, ensuring quick paralysis and death.
 Shamatari child with bow and arrow

Termite tinder
Merlin was especially intrigued with fire-making.
Shamatari men could quickly start a fire using a termite
nest as tinder.

First, someone had to climb vines some 20 feet up to

reach and harvest a termite nest. As the half-inch-long
insects emerged, they were knocked loose, falling onto
large leaves in which they would be rolled up and cooked
for a tasty meal. Meanwhile, the nearly rock-hard nest
would be broken into several pieces and carried back to
the village as kindling for fire-making. Intuitively, these
would hardly seem appropriate for such a purpose. Yet,
they were dry inside and highly flameable.

The actual fire-making additionally required two sticks

made of a relatively soft wood. One was flat, held
between a man’s feet. The other was round and could be
rapidly spun between the fire-maker’s hands while
pressed against the flat piece. This continued till red hot
coals were created from the friction. Finally, the glowing
embers were dropped onto a slab of termite nest. A
second piece was laid on top, and the man would blow
between them till flames appeared.
 Shamatari man starting fire using termite nest

Merlin was invited to eat guama fruit with a Shamatari

family. They break open green bean-like pods some 18
inches long to consume a thin layer of sweet pulp
surrounding marble-sized black seeds. People were quite
generous in offering to share their food, though some
was just too strange to try, for example roast grub and
boiled monkey eyes.
 Shamatari family eating guama fruit

Communal society

Nevertheless, Merlin soon learned a hard lesson. Return

generosity with his unique food was expected, soon
forcing him to eat just one meal a day. The Shamatari
were always extremely curious to see what new thing
he’d eat next. When he used a pocket knife can-opener to
open a can of peas, there were many oohs and aahs.
How could one possibly get food from a rock? So many
people crowded around that he could scarcely move.
Then, everyone insisted on trying just one pea, a
seemingly reasonable request. But, with 89 people in the
village, only a few peas remained for Merlin!
 pijiguao, peach palm fruit

Pijiguao fruit was a village favorite. It came in bunches,

gathered from spiny palm trees. The fruits were shaped like
minature coconuts and brightly colored orange or yellow.
However, it had to be boiled in a kettle before being eaten. It
was peeled like a banana and resembled a sweet potato.

Gonzales explained that the kettle, single ax, and two

machettes seen, had been obtained through trade with
the Yanomomo at Boca Mavaca and were extremely
prized. Items as simple as pairing knives and needles
seemed to have outrageous value. But one of Merlin’s
most sought after trade items was his hard candy.

Running low on food, he traded two pieces of candy for

15 ripe bananas. The novel candy was apparently a huge
hit. Almost immediately, villagers were bringing dozens
of bananas to trade. They were disappointed, but
laughed when Gonzales and Ramon explained that Merlin
couldn’t possibly eat so many.

Chasing hekura (evil spirits)

After lunch, the said-to-be head man of the village got a

two-foot-long tube and some powder called ebene, and a
younger man began blowing the powder through the
tube into the older man’s nose. When Merlin first saw
them preparing he had, through Gonzales and Ramón,
asked permission to film and believed it had been
granted.

The drug must have been potent. Soon the man was
chanting, screaming, howling, flailing his arms,
obviously very high. Then he began attempting to chase
the hekura (evil spirits he believed to be making a woman
sick) from the village.

Just as he was spectacularly high, and Merlin was

thrilled with the footage he was getting, the man
suddenly attacked. Merlin recorded the incident in his
diary.

"Without any warning, the man sprang to his feet, grabbed an

ax and came after me. He got within swinging distance in a
flash and raised it high. I grabbed my camera in one hand
and grabbed for the ax handle with the other, standing my
ground. His muscles tensed, and just as I was sure it was
going to come down hard, he stopped as though surprised
and went back to where he had been."

Merlin Tuttle, account from his diary

Turning an enemy into a friend

Gonzales and Ramón quickly intervened, informing

Merlin that the whole village was angry and had ordered
them to leave immediately. Gonzales clearly feared for
their safety and he and Ramon urged a hasty departure.

Merlin stalled for time as he made a show of packing,

then removed a very nice hunting knife from his pack
and persuaded his very reluctant assistants to
accompany him to present it to the offended man as a
gift.

The man was clearly pleased, apologized for attacking

Merlin, and invited Merlin to share some guama fruit with
him and his family. Merlin of course also promised never
again to interfere with men chasing hekura. Most
importantly the offended man became Merlin’s invaluable
friend and even invited him to join his village.
Shamatari warrior with monkey tail headdress, body painting, and tobacco under
lower lip

Fight over tobacco

That evening, when Merlin turned on his headlamp to
write in his diary, several boys joined him to observe.
Soon they were distracted by the arrival of June beetles
attracted to the light. They’d quickly grab them and pop
them into their mouths alive, eating them like candy.

A little later nearly the entire village became involved in a

noisy dispute. They formed two lines, screaming
apparent insults at each other. When Merlin questioned
Gonzales and Ramón, they explained that the dispute
began earlier in the afternoon when a newly married
young lady asked another woman to share her tobacco.
Both men and women often inserted a rolled up strip of
tobacco leaf inside their lower lip.

The other woman refused to share, which greatly

offended the young lady. Later, she reported the incident
to her husband who promptly went over and chopped the
other woman’s hammock in two, infuriating her family.
His bride became angry at him for overreacting and
refused to prepare his evening meal. When he got angry,
she took her own hammock and fled to her father’s
shabono, announcing she didn’t want to be his wife
anymore. Relatives took sides, and even non-relatives
got drawn in.

It sounded like a fight was imminent, but Ramón

correctly predicted it wasn’t serious. Someone could get
hurt, but in the morning her father and husband would
settle the matter, and all would be forgotten. The girl
wouldn’t have much say in the matter.

Soon, the men and boys began trotting back and forth in
front of one of the shabonos, holding hands and singing
in an apparent show of male solidarity.

Some disputes didn’t end so amicably. One day, shrill

screaming drew Merlin’s attention to a nearby shabono
just in time to see an angry woman brand another with a
stick from a cooking fire. The still glowing tip was thrust
into another woman’s abdomen, leaving an ugly burn.
Given the number of suspicious scars, the practice
appeared common.

Men resolved their most intense disputes in chest

beatings or head bashing with eight-foot hardwood
poles. Most of such duels weren’t lethal, and none
occurred during Merlin’s brief stay. Nevertheless, scars
from past head bashings were proudly displayed. Both
Shamatari and Yanomamo men wore the tops of their
heads shaved to show proof of past engagements.

Another strange male behavior involved tying a cotton

string around the foreskin of their penis, holding it in an
upright position by extending the string around the waist
just above the hips. Merlin never saw a string come
untied, but wondered how a man would react. Would he
immediately attempt to hide like a westerner who’d lost
his clothes?
Women commonly engaged in what behaviorists would
call social grooming. They would carefully run their
fingers through each other’s hair searching for lice.
When one was found, it would be carefully removed and
eaten–a sure way of ensuring it wouldn’t return!

On the subject of hair, I noticed in all of Dr. Tuttle’s

photographs and videos, both the Yanomamo and
Shamatari men, women, and children had short
bowl-shaped haircuts. Without tools like scissors, I
wondered how they cut their hair and why the uniformity.
I asked him about it, but he never witnessed them cutting
hair.

Shamatari girl picks lice from another and eats it

Following several days of relative calm, enemy warriors
were detected, said to be waiting to ambush any villagers
who ventured forth.

Women wouldn’t even venture 100 feet outside from the

ring of shabonos to obtain water without a contingent of
warriors to guard them. Merlin, Gonzales, and Ramón
had to drink untreated water collected from the village
bathing pond. (Merlin’s small bottle of Chorox for water
treatment had been lost in a spill.) Furthermore,
reluctance to go hunting or to the garden, meant an
imminent food shortage.

The Shamatari had, on balance, been quite kind and

generous, but as potentially severe hunger developed,
Merlin and his two companions realized they’d be first to
suffer.

Ramón advised that they attempt to leave as soon as

possible. He engaged in a long consultation with the
head man and returned with a risky, but potentially
only-hope idea. He’d been informed of a secret, but
longer trail through rugged terrain, one where the enemy
might not be watching as closely.

Napolean had warned Merlin not to take guns. The

Shamatari would want them and could end up taking
them by force. So he, Gonzales, and Ramon now faced
the challenge of sneaking past the enemy unarmed.
Merlin recalls:

"We left at 11:15, the time of morning when the enemy was
speculated to be least alert. I carried a 38-pound pack, mostly
containing my movie and still cameras, film, and a small bag of
hard candy, our only food for the day. Ramón and Gonzales
each carried similar weights, our hammocks and mosquito nets,
clothing, and prized possessions I'd traded for.

Ramón led the way, often having to read broken twigs and
other faint trail signs. Gonzales followed while I brought up the
rear, acutely aware that the one in that position would be the
first shot in an ambush.

We averaged a near run, covering approximately six miles an

hour for the first 20 miles. I was so exhausted that when we’d
approach the top of a hill, I’d lose my vision, and things would
go hazy. I’d fear passing out. Then as we’d go over the top, and
head down the far side, I’d get my vision back, and I'd swear to
myself that I would keep going at least till the next hill, always
spurred on by vivid imagination of feeling the first arrow in my
back.

I just went from hill-to-hill like that. We’d come to streams

where we would wade or swing on vines to avoid leaving tracks,
anything to slow pursuit. Just as I felt I couldn't take another
step, we arrived at the base of an at least 500-foot-tall hill. I
tried, but finally collapsed. My pedometer indicated we'd
covered 25 miles. Both Ramón and Gonzales begged me to get
up and keep going. They insisted that if we stopped too long we
wouldn't be able to continue.

I hadn't realized just how frightened my companions were. We

shared my small remaining bag of hard candy. And I was
finally able to stand and lurch from tree to tree, grabbing them
to keep upright. Unbelievably, I finally reached the top of the
hill and got a new spurt of energy going down the far side.

Facing roughly 85-degree F temperature and near 100%

humidity, combined with hiking boots filled with water from
streams, my feet were again blistered. My body broke out in a
rash, and my hands swelled to nearly twice their normal size. I
seriously wondered how much longer I could stay alive.

By the 30-mile point, we had still maintained an average pace of

roughly five miles per hour. Fortunately, by that time, I could
no longer feel pain. All three of us were moving like zombies.

Night fell, and we were deluged in heavy rain, barely able to see
as we waded through standing water in the now very slippery
trail. By 9 PM, Ramón had been claiming we were 'Poquito
cerca,' nearly there, for more than an hour, and I feared we
were lost. Then, I was encouraged to see an old shabono which I
hoped indicated we were nearing my camp at Mavaca.
Nevertheless, both he and Gonzales collapsed right there, lying
in several inches of water, and announced they couldn't
continue.

By that time, my pedometer indicated we'd already traveled

close to 40 miles, so I assumed that if we weren't lost, we must
be nearing our destination. Fearing that, if we didn't keep
going, I personally wouldn't be able to continue the next day, I
urged my amazed companions to get up and continue.

Since I could no longer see through my fogged glasses, I gave

my headlamp to Gonzales and asked him to lead on the now
more distinct trail. We were repeatedly stumbling and falling
and nearly stepped on a large fer-de-lance, a deadly snake in
the trail.

When at 10:10 PM we finally staggered into our Boca Mavaca

camp, my pedometer read 45.6 miles. I was so sore from a
terrible fungal rash and abused muscles that I could barely do
anything without pain for several days. My companions had
well earned their extra pay, and I was grateful to have survived
the trip of a lifetime."

The real reward will be seeing the developed pictures. The

pictures will hopefully more than repay me for the effort."
Merlin Tuttle, from his diary

Foundation for bat conservation

Some things never change! Merlin’s Venezuelan
experience instilled a love of wildlife photography,
particularly bats. His photographs of hundreds of
species of bats worldwide have formed the basis of bat
conservation today. You can explore the amazing world
of bats at Merlin Tuttle’s Bat Conservation.

Merlin's love of wildlife photography starts on the Smithsonian Venezuelan

Project.

Chapter 6: Gnats
and Bandits on
 the Casiquiare
Canal

Merlin's expedition arrives at Capibara on the Casiquiare Canal

As the expedition broke camp on the Rio Mavaca, intense

thunderstorms pounded the area, accompanied by torrential
rain. Seemingly, almost overnight, the river rose some 20
feet. It just kept rising. By the time they reached the
Casiquiare Canal, everything in sight was flooded. To find
sufficient exposed land for a camp, Merlin and his field team
would be forced to travel more than 100 miles up this
endlessly twisting, 210-mile-long waterway, the world’s
longest natural canal. It connects the Orinoco with the Rio
Negro which eventually drains into the mighty Amazon.
 Map of
Casiquiare Canal based on scientist Alexander von Humboldt's observations in
1800. Public Domain, No Copyright.

In 1800, the German scientist and polymath, Alexander

von Humboldt, explored this part of Venezuela and
charted the Casiquiare Canal, a natural waterway
connecting the basins of the Amazon and the Orinoco,
showing it was possible to travel by river from the
Amazonas interior to the Caribbean Sea.

Mosquitoes and vampires

The lead canoe, less heavily loaded, was faster and

forged ahead. The second was additionally slowed by the
team’s excited pauses to view beautiful orchids, nesting
ducks, and troops of 50 or more monkeys staring from
treetop perches. By mid-afternoon, they’d fallen miles
behind.

Suddenly the idyllic tour came to a halt with a loud thud,

a whining motor, and no further progress. Obviously,
they had missed seeing a submerged log. No one was
too concerned. They had simply busted a shear pin.
However, they soon discovered that all the spare shear
pins were in the lead canoe. Worse yet, the 50-foot,
heavily loaded canoe was virtually unmanageable as it
floated down the canal. Fortunately, before crashing into
anything, Sido and Gonzales were able to rope it to a
partially submerged tree.

Now it was just a matter of waiting for the men in the lead
canoe to recognize something was wrong and return to
help. Nevertheless, at sundown they just waited for the
others to catch up, unaware that the first canoe carried
all the shear pins and that the second was stranded.
They seldom needed replacements for shear pins. In
those days, outboard motors were less sophisticated
than those today. If the propeller struck a submerged
rock or log, the pin would quickly shear, protecting it
from damage.

Stranded, far from the nearest dry land, Merlin, Claudette,

Fred, Virginia, Gonzalez, and Sido were forced to spend a
miserable night aboard their canoe, minus the use of
hammocks or protective nets. Thoroughly sprayed with
Deet to ward off swarms of mosquitoes, they finally
dozed off.

However, at 2 AM, Merlin suddenly realized that the

fluttering wings he’d just heard weren’t a dream.
Something had landed not far from his face. Guessing
the source, he waved his hand, and sure enough he
heard a vampire bat hastily depart.

Vampire bats are found only in Latin America. Just one of

three vampire species, the notorious common vampire,
(Desmodus rotundus) feeds on the blood of mammals. It
is seldom encountered in undisturbed forests but has
overpopulated and become a pest where forests have
been replaced by defenseless livestock. An encounter on
the remote Casiquiare was unexpected. Nevertheless,
between mosquitoes and vampires, no one slept well that
night!
For obvious reasons, the common vampire is feared,
hated, and persecuted almost everywhere. No one wants
to wake up to a feasting bat. In frontier areas, where the
poorest, least educated people often live, it’s hard to
blame them for declaring war on all bats, mistakenly
killing even the most beneficial species.

The Common vampire bat (Desmodus rotundus)

The next morning the crew in the first canoe came to the
rescue, and it took just minutes to replace the sheared
pin and be on their way again. By that afternoon they
arrived at the first exposed land suitable for a camp–just
barely! The highest ground was only four to six feet
above the flood line. They would later hear that they had
survived the worst flooding seen in decades.
 Aerial view of flooding in the Amazonas Territory in 1967

Camp Capibara

Their chosen camp site was on a low, rocky hill, known

geologically as an eroded monolith. Several German
families had attempted to settle the site some 15 years
earlier. But all that remained were two thatched huts, and
a gently sloping rock that served as a convenient landing
for the heavy canoes.

The team soon discovered, with virtual certainty, why the

site had been abandoned. It hosted unbelievably dense
swarms of no-see-um biting gnats, so tiny they easily
penetrated mosquito netting. And wherever they bit, they
left tiny blood blisters. The Germans, almost certainly,
had been chased out by the gnats.
Merlin’s helpers quickly observed that the worst of the
pesky critters could be avoided by pitching tents for
sleeping and work in shaded areas. But, whenever
humans emerged to hunt or eat, they were immediately
covered. Even worse, the itchy bites often developed into
nasty skin lesions a half-inch or more in diameter. To
treat these, team members used lava soap (soap with
pumice) to scrub skin painfully raw, then dried them for
half an hour in the sun.

One of the expedition canoes at Camp Capibara (Two thatched-roof structures are
all that remain of a German settlement abandoned 15 years earlier) on the
Casiquiare Canal, 1967

River bandits

As if threatening floods and gnats weren’t enough to

drive the expedition to abandon Capibara, just a few days
after its arrival, they faced an even greater threat. When a
distant outboard motor was heard, team members were
simply curious as to who else could be traveling to such
a remote destination. Then Gonzales ran excitedly into
the work tent, exclaiming over and over, Banditos vienen!
Banditos vienen! He had recognized one of the men, and
in the strongest possible words, warned against
permitting them to come ashore.

Fortunately, the three bandits had only a small canoe

outfitted with an ancient motor, preventing a rapid
approach. Nevertheless, Merlin had just a few minutes in
which to organize a defense.

The team was armed with two double-barreled,16-gauge

shotguns and two .22 pistols with dust shot, worthless
for actual defense. Guns and ammunition were quickly
distributed, and team members took defensive positions
behind boulders.

Gonzales warned they’d kill everyone if given a chance.

One bandit was managing the motor. The other two
possessed what appeared to be an ancient rifle and a
shotgun. They attempted to appear friendly, but the team
trusted Gonzales explicitly.

Merlin’s instructions were that he be first to show himself

and take aim. As the bandits approached, he would
announce in Spanish that they were known to be bandits
and would be killed if they attempted to land. Taken by
surprise, their guns were still in their laps, putting them
at a distinct disadvantage. But they bravely smiled and
continued to pretend friendship, only slowing a bit.
Merlin again warned they would be killed if their canoe
touched shore, and all four armed team members rose
and visually took aim. Only then, just seconds from a
terrible ending, the bandits finally veered away, not to be
seen again.

Why be persistent? Because it must have been obvious

that the expedition carried a very substantial supply of
hidden bolivars. Periodically, they had purchased
plantain, bananas, and cassava from the Maquiritare and
Yanomamo, not to mention hiring whole villages of men
to collect. Despite excellent planning for essentials, from
toilet paper and insect repellent to food staples and
gasoline, Merlin had to admit that he hadn’t considered
possible frontier bandits.

In Caracas, he’d hidden approximately 90,000 bolivars in

false bottoms of his equipment trunks. But on the
frontier the fact that he must have a large supply of
hidden cash would become obvious. In retrospect. it
made sense for bandits to wait till the team was more
than 100 miles beyond even the reach of New Tribes
missionaries, or the nearest Indigenous village to plan
their attack. And without Gonzales’ experience, the team
might easily have been tricked into believing the bandits
friendly.
The team’s only contact with the outside world was
through occasionally picking up bits and pieces of Voice
of America on their transistor radio. Another memorable
event was hearing of a then-reported Six-day War. They
had to wait a week to hear who was involved and who
had won.

Drying tents

Meanwhile, the collecting went surprisingly well between

continuously heavy downpours. However, safe storage of
specimens became increasingly difficult. Study skins
had to be thoroughly dried before they could be packed
in order to prevent spoilage. The problem was finally
resolved by devoting one tent solely for drying. It was
equipped with drying racks and heated by a kerosene
burning Petromax lantern.
Fred Harder and Merlin Tuttle laying out hides to dry. The drying tent was for small
specimens equipped with drying racks and heated by a kerosene burning
Petromax lantern.

Hides from animals such as capybara, tapir, or deer were

too large for the drying tent. They had to be treated with
Borax powder and dried on the large, sloping rock used
for docking canoes. Inevitably, small quantities of Borax
spilled onto the rock with surprising results.

Dwarf little fruit bats

One night, as the team canoed back to camp, they

noticed a large number of bats circling and dipping low
over the landing area rock. Using a dim light Merlin
quickly discovered a steady stream of bats dipping into a
mere three-foot-wide pool created by the previous day’s
rain. He was amazed to see the bats approaching in
nearly perfect, airport-like formation, dipping down to
drink at approximately one-second intervals. Apparently,
the bats were attracted to water containing Borax spilled
from drying hides during the day.

Dwarf little fruit bat (Rhinophylla pumilio)

Equally surprising, when a net was quickly set over the

small pool, only dwarf little fruit bats (Rhinophylla
pumilio) were caught. None of the five species trapped at
the tapir water hole (See Blog 2, Belen Base Camp) near
Belen were found.

This raised several fascinating questions, still

unanswered more than 50 years later. How did these bats
so quickly discover and communicate the existence of
such an apparently treasured resource, unlikely to have
been previously encountered? How could
Borax-contaminated water have been so uniquely
important at a time when other water was available
virtually everywhere? And why was only a single species
attracted?

It was also at Capibara that the team learned to find

disk-winged bats living in unfurling heliconia leaves.
These plants had long leaves similar to those of
bananas. For just a few days each, new leaves provided
ideal homes for these tiny bats, so-named for their
suction-cup-like adhesive disks on wrists and ankles.
These unique adaptations enabled the bats to securely
cling to the slick, inner surfaces of newly opening leaves.
 Spix's disk-winged bats (Thyroptera tricolor) emerging from their roost in an
unfurling Heliconia leaf

The nearby island where these bats lived had apparently

been cleared long ago by settlers and had regrown into a
dense patch of up to 30-foot tall heliconia plants. Since
disk-winged bats require locations with large numbers of
these plants, early settlers who apparently cleared the
forest, had created what eventually became ideal habitat.
However, when larger trees finally regrew, the
disk-winged bats would lose their homes, replaced by
other species. Such is the succession of life even in a
rainforest. One species’ disaster may be another’s
bonanza.

The team was thrilled to pack up and motor back to

Esmeralda in mid-June. They were to be picked up, along
with 321 carefully packed specimens from Capibara, on
June 17 for a week of much needed rest in Caracas.
Following a brief rest and resupply, they would continue
to San Juan de Manapiare.

A few of the 321 specimens from Capibara waiting to be packed.

Nevertheless, a big problem remained. The savannah

where Merlin’s team was to be retrieved was flooded
beneath 10 inches of water. Would the pilots of the
massive flying boxcar dare attempt a landing? The pilots
were clearly nervous, circling seemingly forever before
finally touching down. But, as they had feared, the plane
hydroplaned on the water, skidding into a large, nearly
rock-hard termite nest. The nose landing gear was bent
to the point of being questionably serviceable. Yet,
following a lengthy inspection, bombarded by swarms of
biting no-see-um gnats, the pilots decided that flying
with questionable landing gear was preferable to being
even temporarily stranded there. The return flight to
Caracas was uneventful, though mechanics who
inspected the landing gear on arrival were amazed that
the flying boxcar was able to land safely.

Rare Discoveries
at San Juan de
Manapiare

Specimens from the Venezuelan Project were catalogued and stored at the
Smithsonian, seen here being organized by Claudette Tuttle.
After leaving Capibara on the Casiquiari Canal where
they camped from May 25 to June 15, 1967, the Tuttle
expedition team had less than a week in which to ship
specimens from Caracas to the Smithsonian and
purchase new supplies prior to leaving for their final
destination, San Juan de Manapiare. The bulk of their
equipment had been sent down the Orinoco and up the
Ventuari and Manapiare rivers by dugout canoes.

Merlin Tuttle, his team, and their luggage managed to squeeze into this Cessna
Skyplane piloted by Tex Palmer, a renown bush pilot, the only pilot trusted to get
them back to civilization between cloud-enshrouded mountains.

Bush pilot, Capitan Tex

The airplane flight from Caracas to Puerto Ayacucho was

unremarkable, as was their overnight stay in a local
hotel. However, the next day’s flight between cloud
enshrouded mountain peaks proved just the opposite.
Forewarned of high risk, Merlin had turned to his trusted
friend, locally known as Capitan Tex. Tex Palmer was an
experienced bush pilot, originally from Texas. He had a
colorful reputation for surviving extreme challenges. On
hearing that another pilot had refused, Tex just sniggered
and said, “We’ll fly at sunup before the clouds close in.
Don’t be late.”

The next morning, the team arrived early. The jovial Tex
was crestfallen to see the amount of luggage they had
hoped to stuff into his small Cessna airplane. But they
managed to load it all in quickly. Soon, they were
climbing altitude to cross over some of Venezuela’s most
rugged terrain. Peering into seemingly bottomless,
cliff-walled canyons with majestic waterfalls was thrilling,
until dense clouds suddenly obscured the view.
 Spectacular view of several waterfalls from the plane ride to San Juan de
Manapiare.

Tex had casually mentioned that prior to landing in a

savannah adjacent to their planned San Juan de
Manapiare campsite, they would have to pass between
two mountain peaks, Cerro Raya and Serrania Guanay,
one 8,000-feet high. He had anticipated making it through
ahead of midday clouds. Unfortunately, the clouds came
early.

The landing site was a grassy lowland surrounded by

mountains. Coming down either early or late could be
fatal. As Tex descended with zero visibility, he tried to
reassure that, according to their flight speed, compass
heading, and the known distance, they would soon be
over the landing area. Minutes seemed like hours as the
plane circled lower and lower, everyone holding their
breath.
Finally, treetops burst into view less than 100 feet below,
and Tex grinned broadly saying, “We’ve made it!” They
were almost to the landing area, with only knee-high
grass in sight. But by that time, they had become
accustomed to such landings.

Upon landing, they were met by Piaroa men from the

nearby New Tribes Mission outpost. They helped the
team quickly load their equipment into a dugout canoe
and motored down the Manapiare River to the location of
their new camp. Their tents and other field gear had
already been unloaded and temporarily stored in a large,
thatched community shelter which would serve as the
main work area, with sleeping tents pitched nearby.

Rugged terrain of the western Guiana Highlands crossed from Puerto Ayacucho to
San Juan de Manapiare.

Exaggerated piranha fears

The campsite was ideal, bordered on the west by
100-foot-tall rainforest, with a convenient beach on the
Rio Manapiare just 75 feet to the east. The river was
clear, colored a deep, rusty red due to high tannic acid
content, meaning freedom from mosquitoes and biting
no-see-um gnats. Compared to the swarms of biting
insects at Capibara, the new camp seemed like heaven.

The gently sloping beach was ideal for bathing and

swimming. As at all their camps, they swam with
numerous piranha without once being bitten.

When first arriving in Venezuela city-dwellers had warned

against even allowing a hand to hang over the side of a
canoe for fear of losing a finger to a piranha. Like bats,
they’re almost universally misunderstood. In reality, they
are omnivores who feed on a wide variety of insects,
crustaceans, seeds, small fish, and fins of larger fish.
Some are even vegetarians. They do have razor sharp
teeth and strong bites. Nevertheless, even a single bite
on a human is extremely rare.
 Like bats, piranha are universally misunderstood.

Ecotone

A lush savannah lay just across the river from their camp
site, including large grassy areas and streams lined with
moriche palms in the Ventuari Basin. The diverse habitat
was ideal for collecting. The area could biologically be
described as an ecotone, an area where multiple habitats
met and mixed. Surrounded on three sides by mountains,
this lowland area provided a rich community of mammal
species at an average elevation of just 500 feet above
sea-level, bordered by mountains of 3,000 to 8,000 feet.

Due to an unusual mix of habitats, collecting experience,

an outstanding indigenous workforce, and logistical
support from the New Tribes Missionaries, Merlin’s team
was able to collect 5,632 mammals, including 79 species
of bats, 14 species of rodents, 6 of marsupials, 5 of
primates, 4 of edentates, 3 of artiodactyls, 1 carnivore,
and 1 dolphin at this location in just 40 days. Specimens
were collected from an area of a little more than a
thousand square miles around San Juan.

The area supported half a dozen small villages, each

including several Piaroa families and their garden
clearings where they grew bananas, plantain, yuca and
papayas. Humans seemed to be having minimal impact
on small mammals. However, larger, edible species were
already becoming scarce.

The best collecting of the expedition was at San Juan de Manapiare in part of
what's known as the Guiana Shield, an area rich in biodiversity due to
convergence of mountains with lowland rainforest and savannah habitats.

Labor dispute
Villagers were eager for work and seemed to know
exactly where to find whatever the field team needed.
Merlin divided the region into 42 collecting areas, each
with its habitat described in his field notes. Collectors
were assigned specific areas so species’ habitats could
be reliably reported.

Sido Hernandez, Merlin’s favored field assistant, played a

key role in training the Piaroas in collecting and
specimen preparation techniques and used a field guide
to show which mammals were most needed and how
much the team would pay for them. Prices per specimen
collected ranged from 25 cents to 10 dollars. And each
morning a sample collection of study skins of species no
longer needed was displayed. Potential collectors would
check to determine which animals were still needed and
would work areas assigned to them and plotted on a
rough map.

There was work for everyone. Some hunted or trapped.

Others skinned larger animals, prepared study skins, or
cleaned skeletal material. Merlin paid them by the
specimen collected or prepared, or by the job performed.
They were accustomed to earning only the equivalent of
approximately one U.S. dollar or less per day when hired
locally. But by being paid by the specimen collected or
prepared, some industrious individuals earned as much
as 100 dollars in a single day.
Initially, only men associated with the New Tribes
Mission came to work. Throughout the Amazonas
Territory, it was customary for small Protestant and
Catholic missions to locate themselves on opposite
sides of major rivers where they competed for converts.
The New Tribes Missionaries were first to enter new
areas, had the best organized supply network, and were
happy to assist Merlin’s team. So they were relied on to
provide invaluable communication and transport.

At San Juan, the Catholic priest apparently resented the

expedition’s association with his competitors, so forbad
his followers from working with the Smithsonian team.
However, as word spread of the riches to be had, they
too began offering their help. Exasperated, the priest
lodged a complaint with the government magistrate for
the area, claiming Merlin’s team to be engaged in unfair
labor practices. It was true that there were no hourly or
daily wages as normally required.

When an old man wearing nothing but tattered shorts

showed up and sat around watching for a day, Merlin
assumed him to be just another curious person and
mostly ignored him. The next day, the man returned and
introduced himself as the local magistrate. He presented
Merlin with a rare shaman’s peccary tooth necklace
(which Merlin still treasures because shamans rarely part
with such items) and profusely thanked him for his
generous employment practices, much to the priest’s
displeasure.
 This peccary tooth necklace was a shaman's given to Merlin by a Piaroa
magistrate.

Banana gardens, and even the New Tribes Mission yard,

became prime collecting sites for rarely seen bats that
normally hunted too high up to be captured in mist nets
or traps. For example, the mission had a power generator
and a single street light that attracted three species of
snow-white ghost bats (Diclidurus albus, D. ingens, and
D. scutatus). Without that single street light, these three
species likely would have remained undiscovered. Also,
the fourth ghost bat species (Diclidurus isabellus) was
collected just 100 feet away, feeding low over the Rio
Manapiare. This is the only record of these rarely seen
species all occurring in a single location. Normal use of
mist nets or traps likely would have failed to detect even
one.
 A
Northern Ghost Bat (Diclidurus albus) roosting. This is a rarely seen species. It is
naturally white, not an albino.

Merlin hopes that the time will come when more bats can
be reliably identified using ultrasonic bat detectors. He
suspects biologists still have much to learn about the
status of bats that may be foraging high above forest
canopies or living where no one has yet looked.
The smallest insect-eaters are often good at avoiding
capture. For example, despite catching 79 species of
bats at San Juan de Manapiare, as many as a dozen
small insect-eating species likely escaped notice.
Modern monofilament nets and traps do better at
capturing such bats, but many still escape. High-flying
free-tailed bats were abundant but found only in flood
plain snags. None were caught in traps or mist nets.

In these floodplain snags, the expedition captured rarely seen freetailed bats.

The Ega long-tongued bat (Scleronycteris ega), a

nectar-feeding species, was captured only once in the
entire year of Amazonas Territory collecting, but likely
was present at multiple locations, including in the San
Juan de Manapiare area where 58 individuals of six
nectar bat species were captured. Merlin can’t help but
wonder if this bat might have been found to be common
if only his team had been able to net 100 feet higher in
the forest canopy where numerous bat-pollinated plants
have since been discovered.

Four genera and seven species of free-tailed bats were

found in unusually abundant and accessible snags
created by extensive flooding. Despite its wide
distribution across Latin America, just three brown
mastiff bats (Promops nasutus) were captured, all at San
Juan, burrowed into rotting wood in snags.

Ironically, tree-kills that we normally view as evidence of

disaster, to be prevented whenever possible, are key to
the very survival of many animals, especially bats that
depend on snags for homes. Merlin points out:

To the extent that we successfully protect against fire and

flooding, we can jeopardize the health of whole ecosystems.
Unfortunately, in today’s world so little habitat often remains
that natural phenomena, such as fires and floods, can seriously
threaten remaining populations of species that require forests.
Wise protection of remnant habitats may, at times, require
deliberate management to ensure a continuous supply of snags
and forest openings, activities that, especially in parks, can be
highly controversial.
Merlin Tuttle
 From a perch above, Merlin filmed Sido (see video below) capturing greater
spear-nosed bats from a hollow tree branch above the Manapiare River.

Greater spear-nosed bats avoided the open area snags of

the lagoons, preferring hollows in living trees. In other
areas they occupied a wide variety of roosts from hollow
trees to caves and even human habitations. In the San
Juan area they preferred hollows in limbs and other
cavities of living trees where males typically guarded
harems and their young.

These two-foot wingspan bats are omnivores that eat

everything from large insects and small vertebrates to
fruit and nectar. They’re primary seed dispersers for
monkey pot trees or sapucaia, (Lecythis pisonis), well
known for the armor plated fruit contained in a
cannonball-sized hard shell that protects against parrots
and monkeys who are far less effective seed dispersers.
When ripe, the container exudes a special odor that
guides spear-nosed bats to those that are ready to eat.
These large bats then pry open a previously invisible
door, exposing the fruit-covered nuts which are closely
related to the Brazil nut. Bats then carry one
fruit-covered seed at a time away to feed elsewhere to
avoid the predators waiting for them nearby.
Merlin has his very own monkey pot from the sapucaia, a tropical tree related to
the Brazil nut.

Common vampires
A few bat species can occupy a wide variety of roosts
and appear to prosper as human populations expand in
tropical areas. The most notable example in the
Amazonas Territory was the common vampire
(Desmodus rotundus). This species could roost in tree
hollows, caves, or human dwellings and lived in a wide
variety of habitats.

More than 100 were collected in the San Juan area where
the most domesticated animals had been introduced.
None were captured at Capibara or on Cerro Duida where
there were no humans or livestock. Just one was caught
on the Rio Mavaca approximately 10 miles from the
nearest humans and only four were found near the
Yanomamo village at Boca Mavaca where the only
domesticated animals were dogs. Few animals, other
than dogs, were kept by the Maquiritari in the vicinity of
Belen where 16 of these bats were captured.

Common vampires had increased dramatically in

numbers where humans had introduced defenseless pigs
and cattle. At San Juan, they typically were found in
small groups that attracted little attention. Thus, when
livestock or people were bitten, it was the insect, fruit, or
nectar-feeding bats that formed the largest,
easiest-to-find colonies, whose roosts were burned,
sometimes killing hundreds or even thousands of
beneficial bats at a time.
Local people were appreciative when Merlin explained
how to distinguish the reddish, tar-like droppings of
common vampires from those of bats needed for control
of insect pests and for pollination and seed-dispersal.
They were especially impressed when Merlin explained
that some of the area’s most valued plants relied on bats
for pollination, including the giant kapok tree, from which
the finest dugout canoes were made.

A common vampire bat (Desmodus rotundus) jumping into flight. Unlike most
other bats, these bats are adept at running on the ground on all fours as they
approach prey.

Short-tailed fruit bat

By far the most often captured at San Juan was a species
of short-tailed fruit bat (genus Carollia) that, at the time,
had not yet been named; only four species were
recognized. Today, there are eight.

Short-tailed fruit bats were unremarkable due to their

drab appearance and ease of capture. But their
ecosystem role may have been one of the most
important. They are primary dispersers of so-called
pioneer plants, hardy species whose seeds are adapted
to survival in the hot, dry conditions found in tropical
forest clearings. They are champions at dispersing the
seeds of pepper (Piper), plants that are among the first to
initiate forest regrowth. One short-tailed fruit bat can
carry as many as 60,000 seeds to new locations in a
single night.

Restoring a mature tropical forest is challenging. It

requires many kinds of animals to achieve completion.
Small fruit-eating bats, because they defecate seeds in
flight as they fly over clearings, can contribute as much
as 95% of the first pioneer plant seeds required to initiate
reforestation. As these plants mature, they provide
shelter that attracts birds who defecate seeds into more
favorable conditions beneath perches. Even flightless
animals, such as primates and rodents are eventually
needed to achieve ultimate diversity.
 A Seba's short-tailed bat (Carollia perspicillata) is carrying a piper fruit (Piper
tuberculatum). It will be eaten like we eat corn on the cob. Just one bat can carry
up to 60,000 piper seeds to new locations in a single night. These bats are key
dispersers of "pioneer plants" into new clearings.

At San Juan, more than a dozen species of fruit-eating

bats were captured, each with its own seed-dispersing
specialty. Some, such as the great fruit-eating bat
(Artibeus lituratus) and greater spear-nosed bat
(Phyllostomus hastatus), tend to carry larger seeds that
don’t do well as pioneers. Nevertheless, they’re
important to completion of the cycle. Many fruit-eating
species also occasionally serve as important pollinators.
No group of animals is more important than bats for
long-distance seed dispersal or pollination, and as seen
with the kapok trees of San Juan de Manapiare, many of
the world’s most valuable plants rely on them.
In the small settlements around San Juan, banana
gardens served as virtual magnets for nectar bats.
Bananas were originally pollinated and dispersed by bats
in Southeast Asia. However, when they were brought to
the New World by early explorers, they immediately
attracted a wide variety of nectar-feeding bats. By setting
mist nets in gardens where banana plants were
flowering, half a dozen species of small nectar bats were
captured.

Commercially grown bananas do not produce seeds, so

don’t need pollination. However, throughout the world’s
tropics, wherever bananas have been introduced, they
quickly attract nectar-feeding bats. When allowed to
ripen in gardens, bananas also attract several species of
fruit-eating bats, but loss to hungry bats is easily
prevented by simply bringing stalks of bananas indoors
prior to ripening.

When looking for fruit-eating bats, Merlin’s team had

learned to enquire about the locations of wild fig trees
bearing ripe fruit. A single large tree could produce a ton
of figs, fruits that are virtually irresistible to many bats.
Often, such trees could be found by simply tracing the
calls of howler monkeys, toucans, or parrots, all of which
love figs, though bats are, without a doubt, the most
effective dispersers of figs.
 Short-tailed fruit bat roosting in a hollow tree.

Swimming with crocodiles

Acquiring and accurately recording a collection of 114

species of mammals in less than nine weeks was
exhausting, though afternoon swims in the adjacent
lagoon at least alleviated the misery of heat and
humidity.

Fortunately, team members didn’t discover the presence

of a large crocodile neighbor till after several weeks of
bathing without incident. The croc was spotted by its
brightly reflective eye shine as Merlin, Fred, and Sido
returned in the dugout canoe from a late evening of bat
collecting. The six-inch or so space between its eyes
confirmed it as large enough to be scary, before it
mysteriously sank beneath the surface. But, given the
weeks of peaceful co-existence and assurances that no
attacks on local people had been reported, team
members were simply more mindful, knowing they were
sharing their site.

It was with mixed feelings that they finally began

preparing for a return to civilization, though a bit of rest
was urgently needed. Capitan Tex would pick them up
with a pre-scheduled landing in the adjacent savannah,
weather permitting. The two large expedition canoes
were quickly sold. Equipment and specimens were
shipped back down river to Puerto Ayachucho and flown
separately to Caracas.

Merlin, Claudette, Virginia and Fred with camp pets: a coati, giant anteater, night
monkeys, and ocelot.
Breaking the rules

Merlin was eager to report to his mentor and boss, Dr.

Charles Handley, Jr., at the Smithsonian, though he
wasn’t surprised to run into a storm of threats from
military side “bean counters.” Dr. Handley was elated to
hear of amazing success. But military accountants were
aghast! They announced that Merlin had broken virtually
every rule possible, and charges would be filed. Perhaps
a bit naive, Merlin found the threat somewhat amusing.
With Dr. Handley’s help, they roughly calculated huge
savings. His team had acquired more specimens and
species in a single month than previous military-funded
teams had obtained in a whole year. In fact, he and Dr.
Handley calculated that, on-average, Merlin’s team had
acquired specimens at a cost of just 75 cents each
versus 10 dollars each for previously funded projects of
similar size.

Dr. Handley assured Merlin of his 100% personal support,

then smugly challenged his accusers with the facts. By
breaking military rules, Merlin had achieved
unprecedented success. Handley warned that he would
fully back Merlin and that the news media would have a
heyday. No further complaints were lodged. Dr. Handley
declared Merlin a “natural born collector” and
demonstrated his appreciation by playing a key role in
gaining Merlin’s acceptance into a top graduate school
program at the University of Kansas and later
recommending him for the Curator of Mammals position
at the Milwaukee Public Museum.
Merlin’s two years of field collecting leadership in
Venezuela, Dr. Handley’s subsequent sponsorship, and a
full-time research position in Milwaukee set the stage for
the born collector to evolve into a consummate
conservationist.