May 1, 2020

JAGUAR SMACKDOWN—MEMORIES FROM THE BRAZILIAN PANTANAL

By Kevin Zimmer

Our August 2018 departure to the Brazilian Pantanal was particularly special in that our usual great Jaguar luck in “Jaguar Land” (the roughly 100 km2 area bounded by the rio Cuiabá, the rio Piquirí, and the rio Tres Irmãos, which we access based out of the Jaguar Flotel & Suites) wasn’t just about the numbers of cats seen, but had as much or more to do with the quality of those encounters and with the wide range of feline behaviors that we witnessed. It probably helped that a cold front barreled into the region the night before our trip started, dropping the temperature in Cuiabá from significantly south of “hot” to somewhere north of “chilly” overnight. When temperatures are baking, Jaguars, like their relatives on the African savannas, tend to spend much of their daylight hours sprawled out in quiet repose, and waiting for a sleeping cat to do something can be akin to watching grass grow. That was not a problem on this trip! We were treated to swimming Jags, climbing Jags, actively hunting Jags, a Jag killing a caiman, battle-scarred old male Jags as well as the newly minted young gun, young sibling Jags emancipated from their mother, and even a female Jag with a young cub. But for all of the excitement involved in those myriad encounters, it all paled in comparison to what happened on the morning of our last full day in Jaguar Land.

Jaguar (male, Marley), rio Tres Irmaos drainage, Mato Grosso, Brazil © Kevin Zimmer

Early in the morning, we got a radio call about a Jaguar along the right bank of the rio Tres Irmãos (Three Brothers River). We arrived at the scene just as the Jaguar walked from an extensive sandbar into the forest and disappeared. There were already several boats of Jaguar watchers on the scene, and when the cat didn’t reappear immediately, some of them left. Others stayed put, as did we, and it wasn’t too long before the cat returned to the sandbar and started working his way downstream. This was a very robust young male, with lots of muscle and swagger, and without the frayed and scarred look that inevitably comes with many years of defending turf from other males. In fact, we were able to identify this animal as “Marley,” offspring of “Ruth” (who had treated past groups to some great encounters), and brother to “Ryan,” the female that we had watched kill a caiman just two days prior. We stayed with Marley for 45 minutes or more, watching him hunt the shoreline, alternately swimming, wading, and walking on dry land. In the process, we burned tons of pixels, and several of us were starting to suffer cramps in our shutter fingers! By this time, Marley had attracted quite a crowd of other boats, each jostling for position while attempting to stay with a moving Jaguar. Kíke (my local co-leader) asked if I wanted to bail on Marley and follow up on a call that we had received about two young sibling males that were relaxing on a beach near the mouth of the rio Piquirí several kilometers downstream from our current location. I said, “Sure, let’s do it—we’ve already spent lots of time with Marley.”

Jaguars (males, Marley and Geoff) fighting © Kevin Zimmer

João fired up the motor and headed downstream toward the Piquirí. We never made it. After just a few hundred meters, we spotted another big Jaguar cutting across an extensive sandbar toward us on the right bank. A quick look confirmed that this was another male, and closer inspection allowed us to identify it as “Geoff,” an older, battle-scarred male that we had seen along the right bank of the Piquirí the day before, and that we had watched hunting for an extended period along the rio Cuiabá the day before that. A quick glance upstream confirmed that Marley, with his flotilla of admiring paparazzi in tow, was still headed steadily downstream (in our direction) along the water’s edge. The two behemoths were on a collision course with one another. This was going to be interesting!

We positioned our boat and waited. Geoff trotted parallel to us, well off the shoreline, and back in the grass. His head was up, and he seemed alert, as if he had caught the scent of another cat. Meanwhile, Marley ambled directly toward us, right along the shoreline. Geoff disappeared from our view, concealed by the slope of the dune and by the tall grass, but suddenly, Marley’s body language changed visibly, and he bounded up from the water’s edge to the top of the dune and tensed visibly in anticipation. Low, ominous rumblings from both cats heralded Geoff’s reappearance, and, in no time, the two rivals were squaring up and facing off just above the beach.

The other boats, which had been following Marley, were just now realizing what was happening, setting off a mad scramble in our direction, where we already held the pole position. It was immediately obvious that Marley was the bigger and more powerful gladiator. He was the initial aggressor but looked relatively relaxed and confident, full of latent menace. There was nothing latent about Geoff. Decidedly leaner, with body language that signaled greater tension, he made up in attitude what he lacked in muscle. Geoff was consistently baring his teeth, arching his back, and unleashing a din of hideous sounds, all the while with his tail tucked firmly between his legs. As is typically the case with intraspecific combat in animals, much of the aggression consisted of posturing and noise, but the two cats did clash and exchange blows several times. Marley seemed to get the better of these exchanges, scoring several big roundhouse slaps to the head, one of which knocked Geoff for a loop and sent him sprawling. After several exchanges, both cats walked back the aggression considerably, standing and glaring at one another for several seconds, and then retreating to their respective “corners” and lying down. The whole conflict had lasted 7–8 minutes based upon the time stamps on my photos. After a few minutes of this, Marley got to his feet, strolled down to the river-edge, and spent a few minutes quenching his thirst. Geoff remained on higher ground, keeping a wary eye on Marley until Marley sauntered off. I’m sure that the two settled something, but it wasn’t obvious how the dynamic had played out in terms of which one had established dominance. I’d have given it to Marley on points and the basis of a single knockdown, but Geoff didn’t seem to be conceding anything!

The entire encounter had been epic, and something that I have never witnessed before with any species of large cat. It easily ranks on the short list of most spectacular wildlife experiences that I’ve had anywhere—right in there with Tiger viewing in India and spending time with Mountain Gorillas in Uganda.

Kevin’s bio and upcoming tour schedule

Jaguars (males, Marley and Geoff) fighting © Kevin Zimmer