Into the Orinoco Basin: The Chronicles of An Exotic Animal Cowboy

By William Thacker

After returning from an expedition to India and Africa herpetologist Will Thacker continues his quest for exotic animals. His concern for the endangered Orinoco crocodile takes him to Venezuela to study these prehistoric reptiles and to collect juveniles of the species to help start breeding programs at zoos in the United States.

 

Will is accompanied on his journey by Dr. Joann McVay, the British biologist he met in India at the Sundarban Tiger Reserve. The pair engages Tom McClimon, a former Army Ranger and bush pilot to fly them into the rainforest where they befriend the Piaroa, a local peace-loving indigenous people. Soon their tranquility is interrupted when they encounter a murderous band of drug-smuggling crocodile poachers who make their visit more dangerous than they ever imagined.

 

Inspired by true events, this fascinating glimpse into the world of conservation, romance, danger, and adventure. It will have you craving more.

• Language: English
• Publisher: William Thacker
• Release date: Jul 6, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223328223

William Thacker

Ever since four-year-old William Thacker got to hold a black rat snake, he has been fascinated by animals. As a child, he kept a menagerie in his family’s back yard in Florida, then moved his collection to Clermont’s Citrus Tower where, at the age of fifteen, he was giving guided tours and “milking” rattlesnakes for the public at The Wildlife Arena. Throughout his life, William has involved himself in traveling, collecting, and teaching about wildlife. He has been a youth camp nature director, a teacher, and a television host. He has operated an import company, an exotic animal shop, and has worked as a zoo educator. In 2019 William returned to Florida and began writing Thacker Tales. He now resides in the Black Hammock Wilderness Area where he continues to pen the stories of his incredible life with animals.

Book preview

Into the Orinoco Basin

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William Thacker

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from

The Chronicles of An Exotic Animal Cowboy

The author owes a huge debt of gratitude to Joanne Lawlor, Valerie Proctor, and Steve Duncan for their help and inspiration in the preparation and publication of this book:

This book is a work of creative nonfiction. Some of the names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, actual business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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Copyright © 2023 by William Thacker

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in an information retrieval system in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, taping, and recording without prior written permission from the author.

Table of Contents

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Come On Pretty Mama

Yopo

The Treehouse

Ghosts of the Jungle

The Ambush

Lightshine

The Intruders

Head of the Spear

The Place Where We Paddle

Sun Shadow

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Author’s message

Come On Pretty Mama

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April 1st, 1970

Gainesville, Florida

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I was in my garage shop testing a cable noose I’d made with an Orinoco croc in mind. The business phone rang. I went over to the wall and picked it up.

Living Reptiles, good morning. I took a quiet sip of my morning coffee and looked at my watch – 8:15.

Hey, Cowboy. It was Joann McVay. I’m sorry but I can’t go with you. I found someone else. I sat down hard in an old wooden chair. Then she said, I’m so in love ...with you! April Fools!

If you were here, I just might spank you.

And I just might like it.

Out my garage door, I saw the postman putting mail in my box. I thought about spanking her and smiled. A little kinky, maybe.

Your ticket’s waiting for you at the TWA check-in desk at Heathrow, Babe. My birthday was coming up on April 3rd.

Don’t think you are going to get lucky on your birthday, William. I’m not that kind of girl.

Just bring your yoga mat, some romantic music, and candles and we’ll see what happens. Ever hear of the Mile High Club? She laughed.

We talked a while longer and then said goodbye for now.

I continued packing the considerable amount of equipment into aluminum cases, checking items off my list as I went, putting on the tops, and cinching the black nylon straps around them. I looked at the name plate sitting atop my office desk that Joann had left for me in West Bengal.

A car pulled into my driveway, an old Chevy Corvair, light blue. It was my assistant manager, Stan Redding. He ran to the mailbox and got the mail, a Krispy Kreme box in his hand – right on time. We talked awhile as he drank the coffee I’d poured him from the electric percolator. Through the glass, in a case behind him, a Mozambique red spitting cobra was eating the mouse I’d tossed in earlier. The walls were lined with reptiles from around the world. Stan took great care of them. He’d be running things while I was away. I opened the mail with my oversized hunting knife. I had begun calling it The Whisperer because it whispered through the air when I threw it at targets in the back yard. This would be a four-country expedition: Grenada, Aruba, Guyana, and Venezuela. On a little transistor radio, Ricky Nelson sang Traveling Man.

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April 2nd, 1970

Miami, Florida

I’d caught United’s Flight 108 out of Jacksonville. The Boeing 727 touched down at Miami International Airport at 6:05 a.m.  I went into the terminal and, as usual, bought life insurance from a vending machine. I put it in a stamped envelope and mailed it to my parents. One never knows.

I arranged with the agent to pick up my air freight and baggage a little later. I was dressed in a sports coat and tie over jeans, my typical flying garb. It was my attempt to look at least halfway respectable.

I took a ground shuttle over to the Sky Castles private hangar. Tom McClimon was a bush pilot of great renown. I’d learned of his services in Aviation Today. I found him standing on a ladder in front of the single engine of a de Havilland Canada DHC-2 Beaver. The round cowling lay on a grease-spotted piece of canvas on the floor. The pontoons gleamed in the sunlight streaming through the skylight. He was clad in a zip-up set of blue coveralls. He wore his long brown hair in a Chinese queue. It matched his Fu Manchu mustache.

A wide grin spread across his face as I approached him and shook his hand. He was proud of this plane and explained its short takeoff and landing capabilities, perfect for getting into that remote Piaroa village in the Orinoco Basin. Over a cup of Cuban coffee in his small office, we took care of the financials. The flight thus secured, I borrowed Tom’s Ford pickup truck and returned to United, got all the equipment, and came back. We spent the next hour distributing the weight across the cargo hold.

Later, I drove his truck, with its yellow roof light spinning, to TWA’s Gate 212 where Joann’s flight from London was just taxiing to a stop. She came down the steps in a sun dress, seemingly in slow motion, that familiar camera bag over her shoulder. I waved and smiled. She ran to me. I embraced her, picked her up, and spun her around.  Deplaning passengers slowed and stared.

An elderly lady said, How romantic.

A man in Bermuda shorts and a flowered shirt queried, Are you famous?

You’ve not heard of the Exotic Animal Cowboy? To shame, Joann joked.

The man snapped a picture with a yellow cardboard camera. He winked at me and shot me an OK sign.

We plucked her baggage