The first day had been sheer torture. Although I slept well, I woke up with the sorest muscles I had ever had the misfortune to suffer. The second day was tolerable. Muscle stiffness vanished in light of the progress that we were making. On the morning of the third day, we arose to find Macuma building a smokeless fire. We all huddled around warming ourselves. I, for one, was glad that our climb into the Peruvian foothills had resulted in an atmosphere that was a mite cooler than body temperature. It is much easier to get warm than it is to cool off.
After a quick breakfast consisting of crunchy munchy trail mix and tea along with some dried apricots, we were on our way. Minute by minute, we were getting closer to our target. Not only was the going easier, my excitement was building for I realized that we would soon be in a spot where we could sew our first wild ova. However, I was a bit premature.
Shortly after daybreak on the fourth day, Jamas and Macuma were able to begin Clarissa's beetle infiltration program. Through my binoculars, I could make out a fuzzy figure, which just had to be Jamas, slitting a bubble pack and glueing a gooey mass to the lower branches of a coca bush. According to Clarissa, we could expect a million or more beetles to eventually emerge and carry out their dastardly deeds.
"This setup can never be allowed to vary," Jamas said. "No matter what!"
"Tell us," I said.
"When I go to apply the beetle ova, you and Clarissa stay with Macuma. Macuma and I will use our birdcalls to communicate. In turn when Macuma is doing the ova work, I will abide with you."
"Got it," Clarissa said.
"I understand exactly where you are coming from," I added.
Once Jamas had geared up, he disappeared into the selva. Scanning the scene with my binoculars, a few minutes later, I caught a glimpse of someone in the coca patch and mentioned it to Macuma. About thirty seconds later, we began to hear the sound of the perwicka.
"That damned bird is annoying," I said. "Perwicka perwicka perwicka."
"Jamas," said Macuma.
"You mean the perwicka is never annoying?" I asked.
"No, I mean, Jamas."
"Oh I get it," said Clarissa. "It's not a pajaro at all."
"No pajaro," Macuma said.
"Jamas," I said. I felt better than I had in days.
The first thing that Jamas did when he got back was take a swig of water and fill his face with crunchy munchies. Macuma took a few moments to look around and then he geared up for action and was soon lost in the selva. Pretty soon, we heard perwicka repeated three times.
"Macuma," I said.
"Perwicka," Jamas said.
I never did have an ear for music but fortunately Clarissa did. By the end of the day, she could distinguish the call of Jamas from that of the pajaro.
Clarissa did caution us that after a million beetles have ventured forth, they would not be without enemies. She said that she had no idea as to the survival rate.
"What with frogs, birds and other insects anxious to get at the eggs many of our brave soldiers would be lost before their fight ever began," she stated.
"That being said," said Jamas. It is best that we not stick around. Pickers could soon be out and would not take kindly to our presence."
Later in the day we came across a planting of quite young coca bushes. There would be no cover for anyone venturing into the field. Clarissa suggested the we sew our ova in the surrounding selva. It was a slow process as there was one person sewing and three watching for the enemy. We never varied the process. If it's not broken, don't fix it.
We didn't stick around a moment longer than necessary.