On my 8000 mile journey around South America with my second wife, one part involved being paddled up the Amazon River by natives and then swinging down to Rio de Janeiro.
The trip up the Amazon had been oppressively hot and humid in the jungle air, and since I was standing at the shore of the river, in an overwhelming desire to cool down, I told the natives that I would meet them on the opposite shore and reflexively dove into the waters of the Amazon and started swimming to the opposite side, about 100 yards away.
I had been warned of the Piranhas, touted to devour a cow in minutes. I had never seen a Piranha, but didn’t see anything moving in the water ahead of me. Many of my friends in high school were great swimmers who had taught me well, so that in record time, I swam across the river, intact and untouched. Maybe my kicking feet and stroking arms were not an inviting prey?
Once on the opposite shore, I collapsed into an empty canoe being made ready for a fishing venture. The natives arrived, moved the boat into midstream and let out their lures. Within minutes, they started hauling in Piranhas, which I was reluctant to touch. This creature was about 9 inches long, equipped with fins and a tail, but dramatically, the body consisted of one long mouth, imbedded with jagged sharp teeth. But, where in the world did digestion of their prey take place, or utilization of what they ate for reproductive purposes? However, I soon closed my eyes, removing them from my sight, and simply accepted these monstrous creatures as one of the wonders of nature.
Fortunately, I hadn’t seen these creatures before my swim, because had I done so, it’s unlikely that I would have attempted the challenge.
