Otherwise

I have a hard task ahead of me: to describe the beauty, variety and wonder of the Pantanal. I know I can not do it justice, but realize that what I write is only a small portion, like one sand grain on a beach, of the Pantanal’s fullness.

I have come to the Pantanal to see wildlife and in particular, I am eager to see a capybara. I have seen pictures of these endearing creatures, dog-sized guinea pig type animals. I have heard of their gentle nature, their mellow personality. Their faces are like a hamster’s, but more open, and they have none of the cloying squeakiness of their smaller cousin’s nature. From pictures, I note that they are dignified, unobtrusive, at home on earth and in water, and very cute. I am in long distance enthrallment with capybaras. I hope, I hope I can see one!

We arrive at our lodge, a series of long buildings on stilts, connected by wooden and concrete walkways. Almost immediately, there are two lime-green parrots in the tree nearby, shouting “hey!” like a couple of rowdy kids. I am impressed. And as I walk across to the dining hall, I see it. My capybara. It stands elegant on the small grassy plain below, and obliviously munches on greenery. I run like a child towards it, not even able to utter a word in explanation to James, who asks, “what? what?”.

Beside the capybara, I stand. Tears fill my eyes and my heart is light. James catches up to me, chuckles and watches the capybara too. With a stubbed but proud nose, round belly, coarse wheat coloured fur, webbed feet and a square back, the capybara is everything I’d hoped for. There is a gentle proudness to this beast, a natural dignity that defies human explanation. We watch for quite some time as the capybara uproots small plants, treads the field with his webbed feet. He is aware of us, but not particularly interested. This is not the haughy snootiness of a cat, but the natural behaviour of a wild animal going about his business. He seems not to mind us, perhaps even feels pleasant about us by his side.

I find out soon after, that this capybara is a camp creature. Some time back, as a baby, the animal had broken its leg. The people at this camp had set the leg, nursed the infant capybara back to health. His appearance before the dining hall is quite regular. He has come back to the plain in front of the lodge every day since he was cared for. He even has a name – Choochooga.

I eat dinner quite content. I have seen a capybara, even sat beside him. After we confirm that the hand sized spider above James’ bed is not poisonous, I settle to sleep with sweet dreams…