Chapter 4. Chuka and the Borderline Jaguar

One night, Chuka sat with his father on their front porch, listening to his stories about the Ahsencharo people. Chuka knew this name was what his father and grandfather, who were old, called the tribe when they spoke in their language. His father told Chuka the stories his own father had told him about the great Ahsencharo Indian raids, battles, and the time before the reservation.

Even on the high deserts of southern Arizona, the night air was still hot and dry. The front porch was the only place to stay almost cool. In 1955, many people on the reservation had electric fans. Still, no one had those magic boxes in their windows called air conditioners. Chuka looked up at the clear night sky. He saw thousands of stars shining brightly from horizon to horizon. There were so many stars they seemed to hold the Huachuca Mountains in a vast star blanket, and maybe they did.

Just then, as his father talked about a great battle led by a shaman (medicine man), they heard the loud, piercing roar of a big cat. Winatuk, Chuka’s dog, growled, and Chuka’s father got the rifle from the house and sat it by his chair. Frantically, Chuka said, “What was that?” Then, the loud piercing roar again carried through the night. Chuka knew it was not a mountain lion because they never roared or made much noise unless confronted. Many mountain lions lived in the Huachucas, but Chuka had never heard this defiant roar in his entire ten years. His father, now attentive and peering up into the foothills, searching for some unseen enemy, said, “That is a jaguar.”

Chuka had heard about the two- to three-hundred-pound big cats that eat deer, calves, and even small bears. Grandfather had said that the white men had killed off all the “borderline jaguars” and the rest lived down in Mexico. His father whispered, for some reason, “About every ten years, one comes north. They hunt and look for a mate but soon return home to Mexico. Many miners or hunters kill them for their beautiful black-and-gold fur. Chuka, the night you were born, your grandfather and I heard a jaguar on this very porch, and we took it as a good omen that he came this far north just to see you born,” he said. Then, his father looked at him directly with that deep, dark face that Chuka knew meant “listen and do exactly what I say.” He stated, “Chuka, you and Winatuk will not go up into the Huachucas for two weeks. Jaguars hunt only at night and never during the day but running into one up there would not end well for Winatuk or you. Do you understand me?” Chuka thought, two weeks? How could he not go up and play in the Huachucas for two whole weeks! However, he knew not to argue and answered the only way he could: “Yes, sir.”

Chuka heard the jaguar roar several more times in the next two weeks. However, after a while, he heard nothing. Chuka’s father thought the jaguar had gone back to Mexico. Finally, Chuka got up early Saturday morning and rushed through his chores in the barn. He made his bed, ate a quick breakfast, and then collected the bow and arrows that his grandfather had given him his knife and canteen. Winatuk was as anxious as Chuka to leave. His father stopped them as they ran out the door and said, “Chuka, be careful. If you hear the jaguar, you come straight home, right?” Chuka gave a quick nod but was already thinking of the best trail to get up into the Huachucas.

It was around noon, and Chuka and Winatuk had a great time. Chuka fought and saved the Ahsencharo people, shooting his bow at the enemy, or maybe just old logs and thin, bushy mesquite trees. Winatuk was okay with Chuka winning the war as long as he got to hunt and chase the large rabbits—desert cottontails that lived in the foothills of the Huachucas. Their delicious scent filled his nose as he got closer to their burrows.

Just then, Chuka heard the big cat. In seconds Chuka’s bow was fully pulled back, ready with an arrow. However, he thought better of attacking a 300-pound cat and just stopped and got down in the grass. Winatuk came to his side as they both listened for where the jaguar was. It came again, but it was not a roar but a short, soft call that did not sound like a 300-pound borderline jaguar. Chuka knew he had to get up slowly and go back down the trail as his father had told him. Still, he waited and listened, and he thought he heard another high-pitched, but much softer cry from what could only be a young jaguar.

Chuka knew what he told his father, but he also knew he had to see if that cub was all right. What if he died because Chuka went home? He quickly got the rope from around his waist and tied Winatuk to a nearby mesquite tree. Winatuk was not happy about this turn of events and whined. Chuka got up in a low crouch and made his way toward the sounds of the jaguar. He moved downwind so the jaguar could not smell him, as his father had taught him when they hunted deer for food.

Suddenly, the grass opened to reveal a wide, circular ledge that dropped into a soft, sandy pit twenty feet below. At that moment, he saw the massive adult jaguar. She was pacing on the other side of the cliff, warily watching Chuka and seconds later gazing down into the large pit. Chuka crawled slowly to the edge, careful not to move too fast, and looked down to see a jaguar cub on the sandy bottom looking up and crying for his mom far above. Chuka knew he would get in so much trouble when he got home, but he had to save that cub.

The cliff edge was smooth but soft, and the cub must have strayed too close and slid to the bottom. However, there was no way the mother jaguar could get down, save the cub, and get back out. Chuka had no rope or boards but knew there had to be something he could do. Finally, down the trail, he spotted the remains of an old, dead pine tree about twenty feet long, propped up against some boulders. He thought, if I could get that dead tree to the edge and push it over, maybe it would reach the bottom.

Chuka slowly stood up, and the big cat watched him warily. He backed down the trail and climbed the rocks where the old tree lay. He knew he could not carry that old tree trunk, so how could he ever get it to the edge? He then remembered his fifth-grade teacher, Miss Gia Rose, talk about a tribe called the Egyptians. They built stone houses called pyramids. They rolled the big stones with logs underneath them, making getting them up the hills easier. Chuka thought, I could do that! He found several logs along the trail from trees burned down during the great wildfire of ’51. He pulled and dragged them and finally got five in line from the tree to the cliff. He had torn his calico shirt and had a cut on his leg for his efforts. The big cat watched but seemed more concerned about her cub. After all, a small little Ahsencharo Indian boy was no threat to a jaguar.

Luckily, the tree trunk branches, the few still on the tree, pointed down the hill. Chuka looked one more time at the cat and began to pull on one end of the tree. After no movement at first, he dug in and moved the tree a couple of inches onto the first log. He kept pulling on and hauling the tree while sweat dripped down his face. Finally, after almost an hour, he slowly got the tree trunk to the edge of the cliff. He pushed it from behind until he could feel it was almost ready to go over the edge. By now, his hands were bloody and hurt bad. He looked over the edge, and luckily the cub was on the other side of the pit, trying to climb up the sandy wall. Looking at the mother, he stood up by the end of the tree and said, “My name is Chuka, an Ahsencharo Indian brave, and I will not hurt your cub.” With that said, he pushed with all his might and watched as the tree trunk fell into the pit. Luckily, it hit a rock outcropping on the way down, causing the bottom of the tree to bounce out toward the center of the hole. The loud crash scared the cub and its mother, but Chuka could see that the tree had fallen into a great spot angled up toward the top of the cliff.

  The mother jaguar started to roar, fearful for her cub. Chuka slowly backed away, and within minutes the mother began to circle the pit, and with great caution, she came to the tree. After taking one more wary look at Chuka, she slowly worked her way down the tree and finally jumped to the sandy bottom below. She quickly grabbed the screaming cub’s neck fur with her teeth and carried him over to the tree. Together they vaulted up until they reached the top of the tree and safety.

Chuka watched as she looked around and slowly took a couple of steps toward Chuka. The jaguar stopped and stared at Chuka for what seemed like hours but was likely only seconds. Then, she bounded up the ridgeline with her cub in tow, heading to the south and her home in Mexico. Chuka, amazed at how the jaguar had looked at him, finally got his wits about him, ran down the hill, and found Winatuk, who was still not too happy at being tied up. He untied the rope from the tree but kept it on the dog, fearing Winatuk would run after the jaguar. Chuka pulled on Winatuk and said, “We got to go home and tell Mom and Dad what happened.”

When they finally reached the foothills, he turned Winatuk loose and quickly made his way home. When he saw his father galloping up the hill with his rifle in the saddle, Chuka thought, “I am in trouble!” His father jumped down from the saddle and anxiously asked Chuka, “Are you all right?”

Chuka slowly began to explain why he disobeyed his father. As he talked and told his story, his words got faster and faster. Finally, when done, his father looked at him with pride and said, “Chuka, I am proud of you for saving that cub. That was a brave thing to do. Possibly you also saved the mother, who would have gone down into the pit. However, what you did was dangerous and could have killed you both. I told you to come right home, and you disobeyed me. To help you learn to listen, you will spend the next two weeks in the house or doing your chores in the barn. You both are grounded!” Then he gave Chuka a big hug, relieved that the big cat had not killed his son. He mounted the horse and pulled Chuka up behind him. He said, “Let’s go home, Chuka. You know your mom will be so worried until she sees you.” Chuka finally realized how sore, cut up, and tired he was. All he could think to say was, “Yes sir, home sounds good.”

And that is the end of the story of Chuka and the Borderline Jaguar.