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Memories
From the Sertão
by Paul Moreland
The sun was still high as I climbed into my hammock. It was near four
o'clock and I'd slung my hammock about three meters in the air in the branches
of a berry tree. It was hot and still with only an occasional breath of
breeze moving the dusty foliage. It was early August, the dry season had
begun two months before and now the animal citizens of the sertão were feeding
on blossoms and berries under the great trees at night. This was to be my
first attempt at the espera, that most typical of hunting styles in Brazil's
great northeast.
I hauled my pack up by parachute cord and got ready for the long night. I placed
my spare shells in the loops of my vest and checked the old H&R singleshot
28 guage shotgun before slipping the full brass black powder shell with a load
of 3T shot into the handcut chamber. The Ruger MKII with the long tapered
barrel was examined, loaded and slipped back into its place. The quarry
sought was deer and I didn't trust my aim enough with the Ruger to risk using
it. It would be called on for small game only, smaller even than the tiny
deer typical of this region.
With a flapping and squawking the tree filled with pemba. The gamecock
size birds went about their business of feeding, paying no attention to the
motionless figure in the cloth sling. They moved on to roost and calm
returned to the berry tree.
Darkness came and with it came countless unnamed noises in the dark. The
scurrying and rustling of tiny feet was easily heard as the rats, possums and
other small creatures went about enjoying the succulent repast of fermented
fruit under the tree. Occasionally a louder noise would provoke a blinding flash
from my flashlight and the activities below would barely slow as I sought the
source of what surely would prove to be at least a cutía or paca if not a deer.
Time after time I was greeted with the sight of some little rodent under a great
pile of leaves, busily seeking out some morsel.
The night grew colder and the blanket was drawn tight. A breeze moved the
branches and wafted my scent through the trees, this was not good for not only
did the breeze seem to penetrate to my bones, it had the effect of sending a
warning to my quarry.
The cold grew unbearable and then came the faint tinge of light in the east,
announcing the coming heat. As the light grew more perceptible the pemba
returned, squawking and flapping, to fill their crops with the morning meal.
The Ruger spoke twice before the pemba moved on to find a quieter meal, leaving
two of their number to provide my own meal. As I climbed down from my perch to
await my companions I reflected on the passing of this way of life. The
sertanejo's life has never been easy. Now, with the vast acreages of virgin
jungle being cleared to make way for vast plantations of rice, corn and soy, the
game was disappearing and their simple way of life was threatened.
Those were simple days. Simple times. The people met in the vast
southern regions in the state of Maranhão are sorely missed. There is
nothing that compares to their simple cuisine and carefree lives. They are
poor, most only having one set of clothes and only the bare necessities of life.
When they pack up to move on, their earthly possessions will usually only occupy
the back of a donkey, perhaps two. But they are very hospitable and friendly,
freely sharing what little they have. Their diet usually consists of short
grain rice, farinha (ground up manioc root which has been roasted until dry) and
beans. It is a diet short on vitamins, proteins and fats. A typical
breakfast consists of coffee and "cuis cuis", a steamed loaf of ground
rice or corn and if the hunters have been successful a bit of fried meat to go
with it. Meat and fat is craved by all and fruits as well. When the
oranges are in season they barely have a chance to turn slightly yellow before
getting knocked down and eaten.
That is why the people hunt as they do. There is no talk of sport, they
hunt for lunch or supper and returning home empty handed means white rice again
with nothing to fill in the nutritional imbalance. So they take to the
trees at night with flashlights and carefully hoarded batteries to await what
ever chance may bring their way.
Most houses have at least one firearm of some kind. The "por fora"
is very frequently found in various persuasions. This is the typical
Brazilian muzzle loader. A typical one will have a paper thin barrel made
even thinner by mistaken neglect. The people believe that a muzzleloader
or shotgun becomes deadlier as it builds up "veneno" (poison) in its
barrel over time. What actually occurs is that the barrel grows thinner
and thinner and eventually will burst as the rust eats away at the already thin
walls. A typical "por fora" will have around a .40 caliber
smooth bore barrel made of some kind of iron curtain rod material. The
breach area will be wound with a layer or two of iron wire by way of
reinforcement. The nipple will be set in a bolster welded to the side of
the barrel and the lock will not have a functional half cock. A variation
on the theme is the "rabo de macaco" or "Monkey's Tail"
muzzle loader. In this variation the nipple is of the "inline"
persuasion and the striker is directly behind the barrel. The typical load is a
.38 spl case full of FFFg powder or possibly only a .32 SWL case full. A
wad of jute or other fiber is pounded over the powder and a few pieces of 3T or
smaller shot will be loaded on top, followed by another wad of fiber. When
things work as they should, the por fora can be deadly out to 20 yards or so.
After that it scatters too badly to be effective.
It is not uncommon to find a variety of shotguns in the homes in the area.
The .410 and the .28 guage are probably the most common, but one can find all
the gauges if time is given to search and to talk with folks. The 9.1 mm,
36 (.410), . 32, .28, 24, .20, .16 and 12 gauges can all be found.
Brazilian law forbids anything in a "magnum" gauge or caliber but I've
seen 12 gauge 3" magnums in the hands of some of the more well to do.
Full length brass shells with berdan primers and black powder are by far the
most common fodder for the shotgun in northern brazil. Some of the
smokeless powders are beginning to take root and find a following. Tupan
is one of the early powders to begin replacing black powder. It got a bad
rap because it split shells and had to be packed tight. It there wasn't
enough compression it would not burn properly. I learned to load with this
powder. It was in a .32 gauge Boito that belonged to an american rancher.
He'd leave it with me while he was in the US earning money to keep the ranch
going. I'd use a mallet and dowels to pack the wad over the powder,
keeping the primer from contacting anything by holding it in a special base.
The split shell problem was only in older guns. I've seen the sertanejo
shooting a shotgun that headspaced on string wrapped around the base of the
shell. This was because the chamber had eroded away from years of neglect.
It did OK with black powder, but the newfangled powders built up to much
pressure and split the shells, or worse.
The .22 was the most common of the rifles. It is used to hunt everything
on the south american continent. They will use it for everything from
doves to mountain lions and jaguars. The CBC singleshot is fairly common
as are the CBC bolt actions. I've even seen Belgian "half
automatic" rifles and others brought in from the US and Europe. Some of the
finest were brought in by priests or protestant missionaries. The .22 is
well regarded and often misused. Some of the hunters will shoot a deer
from over 100 yards away and then have to track it with hounds.
There is also a good quantity of model '73 and '92 Winchesters, mostly in 44-40.
These are left over from the rubber days. The rubber workers demanded the
best weapons available for protection from (and aggression against) the Indians.
I saw one 38-40 round and 32-20 ammo was available, but the 44-40 was king of
the centerfire rifles.
A good revolver was sought by many and the S&W was king. The old
Military and Police was very common and many an old timer refuses to give up his
"smeetchy". Almost invariably the S&W was in .38 spl.Colts
were not unheard of, they were known as the "cavalinho" or
"little horse" revolver, but I never personally handled one. But
most folks carried them for protection against two legged varmints or because
they WERE two legged varmints. Few people used them for hunting, I was
regarded as a rich man because I used my Rossi .38 so much. With shells
costing US$2 a piece, no wonder folks didn't shoot them much. I'd carried
loading supplies in and so could shoot my .38 cheaper than a .22. I paid
for my loading setup by selling shells to folks. I'd take six empties for
one loaded round, not a bad profit, or sell ammo for half the store price if
they supplied the brass. The berdan primers would be drilled out and
replaced with boxer primers and loaded with a light load of powder. Some
of the brass was balloon head and also received light loads. My ammo was
more accurate than that sold by CBC and I even sold 400 rounds to the police.
Once I learned more about Brazil's laws I ceased selling reloaded ammo and only
used it for my own shooting. They finally allowed reloading, but not the
sale of reloaded ammo. I even replaced my supply of primers via mail
order. Powder was the "Especial de Caça", a smokeless shotgun
powder. This I'd load under a hard cast WC or SWC HP. The hollow
points were cast from Lee's 150 grain HP mold, the wadcutters were from a Lyman
mold a friend swapped to me.
I learned to make do with about anything. A friend showed up with a
Broomhandled Mauser and some dud shells. I pulled the bullets, drilled out
the berdan primer, dumped in a load of Bullseye and pushed the bullets back in.
After firing twice the cases were to loose to hold the bullets, but making do
allowed the old gun to speak once more after a half century of silence. It
had the original wood shoulder stock/holster and was in fairly good condition,
but I never could convince them to let me have it.
One of my favorite places to hang out was at an old black smith's place.
I'd sit in his shop and talk all day with him about guns. He was self
taught and could build about anything you needed to repair a gun, from scratch.
His drill was homemade as were many of his tools. Welding was done in the forge.
.22 shells served to braze with and if he didn't like you he wouldn't do the
job. If he DID like you it still might take six months or longer because
he couldn't talk and work at the same time. What a character! He learned
not to double charge .22 shells. Once he'd taken a dud shell apart and
dumped the powder in another shell with priming and pushed the bullet back in.
He then proceeded to fire it in a Belgian half automatic rifle he owned.
The bolt cracked in two and the bullet buried itself so deep in a mango tree
that he never was able to dig it out. That was when he learned a)
not to double charge .22 shells and b) how to weld a bolt back together again.
He later traded that rifle off. I saw one like it, chambered originally
for the .22 short. It would eject the case when you fired it and keep the
bolt open so you could load another round. It was a singleshot. For
some reason you could load it with .22 LR shells and it worked fine.
The sertanejo is typically a fine person. Their ways are different from
ours and I learned a lot from them. They are very pragmatic when it comes
to hunting, sport has nothing to do with it. What ever it takes to get the
dinner pot filled is fine with them. Unfortunately the habitat is
shrinking and the hunting pressure is to heavy for the declining population of
game animals. I gave up hunting because I didn't need to hunt to survive.
We lived on goats which took care of our protein needs and I even helped others
get into raising goats as well. But I regret that I never did get one of
the elusive deer while hunting from a hammock.
webmaster's
note: Paul is laid up, recovering from Dengue Fever. He wrote this while
in the hospital He is now home and you can email him at paul@sacm.net
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