How I wrestled a long-legged wolf as it clamped its jaws on my friend’s hand
... and discovered one of the strangest beasts I’ve ever seen — in Birmingham
raised no objection when Appolonio, a young man who had been helping us care for the animals, and I fitted a collar round her neck and tethered her to a tree. I offered her some raw meat, but she spurned it. Appolonio insisted we should instead give her some bananas. It seemed an unlikely diet for a wolf, but to my surprise she polished off four. We set to work to transform a wooden crate into a cage for her. Appolonio put more bananas in it to coax her inside, but she leapt over a chicken wire fence and was gone. By now it was dark. We ran to fetch torches and for an hour Charles, Appolonio and I scoured the garden. But we could find no trace of her. Increasingly gloomy, we divided forces, each of us combing one section of the garden. ‘ Senor! Senor!’ shouted Appolonio eventually. ‘She’s here!’ I ran across and found him shining his torch on the wolf, which was sitting snarling in the middle of a small clearing surrounded by cactus plants. now we had found her, I wondered rather vaguely what to do next. While I was still thinking, Appolonio leapt over the cactus and grabbed her by the neck. I could hardly hang back while he was being so courageous, so I jumped over it myself and dived on top of them. By the time I had disentangled myself the wolf had fastened her jaws on Appolonio’s hand, enabling me to straddle her and hold her head without risking being bitten myself. To my huge relief we found when she released her grip that he was not badly hurt. While all this had been going on Charles had gone to fetch the cage. After what seemed like an interminable delay with the wolf struggling in our arms, he arrived and we were able to bundle her inside. It was one of the crowning moments of our expedition. AT LAST all the arrangements were complete and the time came for us to leave South America. We had two days to wait in Buenos Aires, and while we were there I heard that a friend of mine and his wife were also in the city beginning their own animal collecting expedition. I found his number and rang him. His wife answered and told me their plans. ‘Oh by the way,’ she said nonchalantly, ‘ we have got a giant armadillo.’ ‘How wonderful,’ I said, trying not to sound jealous. ‘Would it be possible for us to see it? We have searched so long and I would love to see what they actually look like.’ ‘Well,’ she said, ‘we haven’t actually got it. But we have heard of a chap 500 miles away who has caught one and we are going to collect it.’ I hadn’t the heart to tell her the story of our experiences in Concepcion. Months later I discovered they were just as unlucky as we had been. Back in London officials from London Zoo met us at the airport with heated vans and the collection was whisked to Regent’s Park. As they disappeared, a huge load of worry was replaced by the feeling of relief that, although it had been a long and complicated journey, not one of the animals had shown any sign of illness or discomfort, and nor had any died. I went to see them all many times at the zoo in the weeks that followed. desmond Morris, then curator of mammals, was very complimentary about our armadillos.
We had brought back 14 of them of four different species, but I was still sad we had not managed to bring back a giant for him.
I described to desmond the abortive journeys we had made in search of this miraculous creature, but he looked on the bright side. ‘After all,’ he said, ‘you have brought us back more armadillos than we have ever possessed before.’
A week later he phoned me. ‘Wonderful news,’ he said excitedly. ‘By an extraordinary coincidence I have just received a letter from a dealer in Brazil who says he has got a giant armadillo.’
‘How marvellous,’ I replied. ‘Are you absolutely certain?’
‘Oh yes,’ said desmond. ‘He’s a very reputable dealer and knows what he is talking about.’
A few days later he contacted me again. ‘The armadillo has just arrived, but I am afraid you are going to be disappointed. He is just a rather large hairy armadillo, but not a giant at all. You can enrol me as vice president of the Failed To Find A Giant Armadillo Club.’
Three months later desmond was on the phone again. ‘I thought you might be interested to know,’ he said in a flat voice, ‘that we’ve got a giant armadillo.’
‘ Ha, ha,’ I said. ‘I’ve heard that story before.’
‘no, he really is here, in London. I’ve just been looking at him.’
‘Good gracious! Where did you get him from?’
‘Birmingham!’ said desmond. I went to the zoo immediately. The armadillo had been sent to a dealer in Birmingham from Guiana, the first of its kind to have arrived in this country alive.
Fascinated, I examined him closely and he peered back at me from his tiny black eyes. Over four feet long, he had gigantic front claws and, unlike any of the armadillos we had caught, seemed to prefer to walk on his hind legs, with his feet only just touching the ground. He was one of the most strange and fantastic beasts I have ever seen.
As I looked at him I thought of the German man in the forests beyond Concepcion, of all the false trails, the days and nights spent searching for the elusive creature.
‘nice, isn’t he?’ said a zookeeper. It seemed like an understatement, but I had to agree.
‘Yes, I said. ‘He’s nice.’
ADVENTURES Of A young Naturalist by sir David Attenborough (Two Roads, £25). To order a copy for £20, visit mailshop.co.uk/books or call 0844 571 0640, p&p is free on orders over £15. Offer valid until January 14, 2018.