You got bit by a what?

The rain came down in sheets. I watched it out of my bedroom window as I shrugged on the only jacket I’d packed for my stay in Cusco. It was too light, too loose, and still wet from the storm we’d had yesterday. But it was all I had, and I was too stubborn to buy an umbrella. 

It took me twenty miserable minutes to catch the bus. A pool of water was on the floor already, and other passengers shook out their clothes as we all sighed in relief to under cover. At least for now. 

When I arrived at the animal rehabilitation center, I quickly realized that I was the only volunteer who had shown up that day.

Mari, the owner, told me that I could leave as soon as the animals were fed. I didn’t have to clean the cages, not today. I planned to be back in my sweatpants and curled up in bed in two hours tops. 

I got to work cutting papayas, watermelon, and bananas and organized them on a clean tray. By that point, I was three weeks in and I had a system. I knew which animals ate which quantities of each fruit. I had several dishes ready when Tomas, the little boy who helped out, came in to see what I needed.

“Can you bring this to the monkeys?” I asked him in spanish. 

He took the bowl I had gestured to and glanced at the other. “Who’s that for?” 

“The olingo.” 

“Mari says we don’t have to feed him today.” 

I shrugged. I’d fed that nocturnal beast everyday that I’d been there. I didn’t even know what he looked like since he was always sleeping in his little hut. I usually went in and out, no problem. 

“It’s fine,” I told him as I grabbed the olingo’s tray. 

I walked past the parrots and condors, and avoided the wandering alpaca’s greedy mouth as he tried to make a move for the food I carried. The hood of my jacket fell off on my walk to the other side of the zoo, allowing rain drops to soak into my hair. 

The olingo’s cage was small, maybe six feet long, three feet wide and three feet tall. After opening it, I crouched down and reached in to get his empty tray, swapping it out with the new one. 

A black shadow suddenly leapt at my head. I dropped the food as I felt sharp claws against my scalp. Panicking, I tried to push him off with my hand. 

Searing pain overtook my senses as his teeth latched onto my right thumb. I desperately swatted at him and he fought back with his claws, scratching my arms and digging his teeth deeper into my hand. His jaw was too strong. I picked up the empty food tray and tried to push him away, but he latched back on. Blood ran down from his teeth to the concrete below. I desperately looked around, hoping he wouldn’t escape from the open cage and hurt anyone else. 

But he couldn’t, because no one was around. 

Tears streamed down my cheeks and I searched wildly for help. I screamed at the top of my lungs, “Ayudame, por favor”, over and over again, with a panic so intense that I doubted my words were clear. 

No one came. At least a minute had passed and the olingo made no move to release me. I tried to pry him off again but he resisted. He got an even better grip this time, digging in deeper, and I started to worry that he’d take my entire thumb off. 

I screamed again, but the sound got lost in the rain. Everyone was still in the building on the other side of the compound, doing administrative work. There were no guests. No volunteers. I was alone. 

I persisted with my yelling until at least two minutes had passed. Finally, Mari’s husband saw me huddled in the cage. He ran toward me with a broom he’d picked up along the way. Mari came in close behind him. Sticking the broom handle in the creature’s mouth, it didn’t take long for her husband to get me free. I fell back to the ground and clutched my bloody hand as Mari closed the cage. 

She rushed me to her office and wrapped my wound in a dark cloth. Then I was off to the emergency room. They disinfected it, cleaned it, and wrapped it all for twenty US dollars. Then I got antibiotics and was driven back to my homestay with a hand so thickly wrapped that I couldn’t use it for an entire week.  

I called my mother shortly after. I told her what had happened with a shaky voice, clutching my hand and trying to hold back more tears. I knew that I would probably get an infection, but at least I had kept all of my fingers. 

“You got bit by a what?” She asked. 

“An olingo.” 

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been asked that question in the five years since it happened. Med students at the US hospital I went to after (for rabies shots and infection control) crowded around my hand to look at the damage, confused about what kind of creature it was. A monkey? A raccoon? A bird? 

I now have a picture ready on my phone to show anyone who asks. 

Has anyone else had any intense encounters with wildlife? Feel free to drop a comment below!