2008sep27. Excerpts from The Fruit Hunters (2008) by Adam Leith Gollner.
As with most expeditions, fund-raising was a problem at first. When we finally explained that our intent was to only hunt the largest species of fruit and return several samples to our benefactors, the money came easily. The money men thought they were dealing with your ordinary, run-of-the-mill fruit hunters. No. No my friend. We were the fruit hunter’s fruit-hunters. I wanted to call the book that but they wouldn’t let me. [pg 23]
The semi-ferocious rat-tailed papaya has a particular habit of nesting near slow-moving, narrow rivers. Some say the noise of a nicely-paced source of water soothes the fruit, makes it more docile. Whatever the case, it made for easy pickings. We bagged seven that evening, and a great feast was prepared. [pg 34]
What is the cry of the mango? What about it moves man? It is probably because it sounds very much like Slim Whitman. [pg 56]
Even while dealing with the mosquito-infested swamps we constantly had to slog through, the porters maintained good marching order and helped keep morale high. There was even a song one of them sang about us, it went something like “the fruit hunters, oh the fruit hunters, hunting ... hunting ... ” and there was something about a pear frothing at the mouth after that and us ambushing it. It was a really good song. [pg 73]
“HELP ME JAKE! IT’S GOT ME BLOODY LEG!!!” No one moved an inch. Not Norcrombe, not the porters, and certainly not I. When an orange that size is devouring someone, there’s nothing that can be done ... you just pray it doesn’t turn on you. I can still hear the flesh being ripped from the bone at night. I mean, when it’s night for me. It didn’t happen at night. The ripping. [pg 103]
