Not an Outfitter

When I was asked to cover the killer crocodile at Lake Mihaba in Agusan last year, and eventually write an article about a ritual sacrifice being offered by the local shamans in order to appease the alleged angry crocodile and who killed a child days before that, it somehow crossed my mind the thought of having to go through a possible tragedy, say, the prospect of being swallowed by that white, gnashing, hammer-like teeth, our makeshift boat torn into pieces, and I may never be able to see that hard, imposing bridge at Bunawan on my way home.

Such was the paranoia of that assignment that I was able to actually breathe long and hard when we reached the port shortly before dusk. But the assignment was worth it, and I could only wish I could share it with someone else who was unfortunate enough not to be with me.

It was my first time to visit the Agusan Marsh, and I have been hearing a lot of unfair rumors about the place long before I stepped into that shaky, dilapidated floating house where that Shaman ritual took place minutes before the delegation arrived. When I had a full view of what the Marsh looked like, I intentionally stretched my eyes in order to grasp a better view of it, but then again it wasn't enough, it was simply vast. So vast the picture lens of my phone simply can't contain its mass of sprawling lilies and eternal waters. And intently looking at it makes you feel even more insignificant in comparison.

But it was the crocodile that makes the Marsh too valuable to be left alone. What makes it so enticing to me though is the very chance of seeing one despite reports of bullying and beheading that has essentially marred the creature's image, enough to convince me to go back to that port in Bunawan and report the whole thing from a bridge.

Although far it be from me to suggest that the eventual capture of that killer crocodile, if it happens, will somehow put the community of San Marcos and in the nearby towns of Lake Mihaba in relentless bliss, the very act of putting crocodiles in cages is an entirely different story altogether.

Crocodiles are by nature not a mobile beast. They will stay in a particular place as long as it can provide them with a sufficient enough food and shelter. Unless, of course, there is an abrupt aberration in the ecosystem whereby some animals, including the crocodiles themselves, will be forced to find pastures that are a lot denser on the surface and waters that are lot greener underground.

We can only hope of a much more tolerable approach in dealing with these seemingly mild beasts aside from capturing their tails and eventually placing them in some sort of solitary confinement somewhere at that cozy park in Davao perhaps. We need to be more aware that we should, at all times, pay so much attention with what is happening in our environment, and how can we reach out to those we have considered, for a very long time, just a rarity in our community, like the crocodiles themselves, as far as keeping the balance of our nature is concerned.

My trip at the Marsh may be just an assignment or some piece of news to beat, but somehow it entails a responsibility way beyond what we considered it a Lacoste outfitter, or some affable mascot we love to lavish our children about. Why don't we start treating it as a necessary lifeblood in our very own vast marsh or even maybe in our own seemingly normal existence? It would be very vertical to visit the Marsh without them.