Last week, we left the author perched in an ebano tree overlooking a waterhole in tropical Mexico on the first of 10 consecutive nights, listening to the night noises of the jungle and straining to hear a jaguar drinking.

In January of 1964 I received exciting news. One of my scouts in Mexico had evidence of a jaguar drinking regularly at a certain jungle waterhole. In those days my Jeep Wagoneer pretty much stayed fueled and loaded for Mexico.