Junglepixiebelize - Recollections of a Gringa Pioneer
Nancy R Koerner - Copyright@2021 - All Rights Reserved
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
"Jackie Vasquez - Hunter-Rogue-Genius"
If you recognize his name, your hair might just stand on end. Even now, thirty years after his death, it still conjures folkloric visions of mystery, murder, and superhuman ability. Yep. If there’s one colourful character who has earned a place in the annals of Belizeans history, it is Jackie Vasquez – that jungle-smart, jaguar-hunting, law-breaking, enigmatic rogue of the high bush – perhaps the most famous of all modern-day scoundrels.
- That Jackie's a wild one. He talks to jaguars. Calls them right out of the bush. And he's a snake man… bitten by rattlesnakes, fer-de-lance, coral snakes, and he just shrugs it off.
- He's in league with the devil, but a good fellow all the same. You must meet him. But don't look into his eyes or he will steal your soul.
- You won't know a bloody thing about Belizean hunting till you've talked to Jackie Vasquez. In this part of the world, Jackie Vasquez is the hunter.
- “Don't go! Don't go! That man will steal your soul,” they all said to me. “If you go hunting with Jackie Vasquez, you’ll never be seen again.”
- Old grannies would threaten the children to behave saying, ‘Jackie Vasquez is going to get you.’ He was our Belizean boogey-man.
- He’s not your typical person. Once you look at him you'll realize this is a superhuman being. He's different. Some claim he's the devil himself.
Are the stories true? Personally, I never got to meet Jackie. But I have drawn from the written memoirs of my dear friend, Jack Wood (1916-2006), a world-famous Miami photojournalist, who hunted with Jackie over the course of two decades, and knew him well. In 2005, I interviewed his niece Vickie Vasquez, whose mother Berta raised Jackie as a child. Mark Velasquez, grandson of Gertrude "Gertie" Velasquez (nee Tillet) has also contributed helpful information, and it is from these oral histories, and other well-corroborated online resources, that I attempt to reconstruct the man and the legend.
Perhaps, the Jackie Vasquez story is best described as a tale of folklore-meeting-reality. He was a man of practical talents, an electrician and mechanic, but professional hunting was his calling, and bush-craft his genius. As a self-taught botanist, he was a world-class authority on orchids, knowing the Latin names, as well as common names, of nearly every plant in Belize. Because Jackie was intensely focused and a highly-aware person who lived by gut-instinct and deep intuition, his methods often had the appearance of magic. However, his creative solutions were often a matter of observation, simple principles, and the basics of physics. When asked about his uncanny sense of direction, Vasquez himself explained:
- “Suppose I go deep into the jungle. I can't see the sun, and have no compass. I just look at the vines. The first turn will always be towards the east; a vine is a sun-searching plant. If there are no vines, I look at the pine trees. The trade winds have leaned them to the southwest. If there are no pines or vines, then I check the spider webs. They are all built in the same direction so the silhouette of their webs can’t be seen, or they'll never catch a fly. So I plot the direction of one web when I start hunting, and the rest of the day I can tell direction by the others. Is that magic?”
- "I use certain medicines, herbs, to keep the blood from clotting after a bite, and I have a tube that connects to my manifold and sucks poison from the wound. But that's not snake magic, that's just common sense.”
Vasquez always carried guns, not just in the bush, but also in Belize City where he had a house on Gabourel Lane. This contributed to his “outlaw image,” and Jackie – a brilliant man with a high IQ and a keen sense of human psychology – did nothing to discourage the impression. In fact, he took a perverse delight in furthering the mystique. Vasquez was an avid student of human nature. Rather than directly answering questions, Jackie had a habit of simply staring into the eyes of the listener. This frightened people, even members of his own family, which led to widespread speculation and, in many ways, allowed the legends to write themselves.
Jackie Vasquez’ reputation as a wild man needed no exaggeration. While his hunting clients were outfitted in elaborate gear – khaki jackets, bush pants, hats, boots, and puttees – like “great white bwanas,” Jackie wore simple cutoffs and ran through the jungle, shirtless and barefoot. And, of course, armed. Always armed, and unpredictable. One moment, he would be in the lead, then freeze at the sound of a bird call, and point into the trees. His clients would turn their heads, and when they looked back, Jackie would be gone, melting into the bush in the blink of an eye. On one occasion with Jack Wood, Jackie disappeared and did not return for four hours. When he did, offered no explanation. There were other expeditions when Vasquez did not return at all, leaving the hapless hunters to find their own way out. As a result, it is quite likely that some really were “never seen or heard from again.” However, Jackie also played host and jungle guide to some very celebrated people throughout the years – including author Ernest Hemingway, and a world-famous herpetologist named Ross Allen, who developed many antivenins, andestablished the Reptile Institute in Silver Springs, FL.
Vasquez denied being “in league with any devil,” but proudly admitted that he did call jaguars using his own technique. Hunting dogs were the wrong tactic, as jaguars didn’t “tree” like ocelot and margay, but would circle around, and pick off the dogs one-at-a-time. Instead, Jackie used a jaguar “caller” – a gourd with a deerskin top, and a horsehair stretched tight. When he pulled up and down on the horsehair, it vibrated the skin, and made the same sound that a jaguar makes when calling other jaguars at night. It was sort of a panting noise, like or an owl out-of-breath. The supernatural sound not only called in the jaguars, but did a good job of scaring the clients as well. These “great white bwanas” also learned how incredibly close the jaguar must be in order to get a kill-shot – so close that sometimes they would freeze and be unable to pull the trigger.
If the jaguars were scarce, Jackie used a clever ruse to make a show for his clients. He sometimes employed an older man named Archie, dressed him in a jaguar skin, and had him crouch down in the forest and shuffle around. But Archie had a bad knee, which gave him a pronounced limp. “Wait. Don’t shoot him,” Jackie would say. “He’s old.” Then Jackie could comfort his clients, “Well, at least you got to see a jaguar.” (Imagine the confidence level old Archie must have had, trusting Jackie to prevent the client from shooting him.)
Jackie Vasquez once arrived in Miami, mysteriously showing up at Jack Wood’s house with a huge crate of orchids, asking if he could borrow the old family station wagon for a day or two. Jack gave him the keys. Days passed with no word. Two weeks later, the old station wagon was found abandoned at the end of a dirt road in the Everglades, the rear cargo area a reeking mess of rotted vegetation. Six months later, Jack was back in Belize, smiling, and again went hunting with Vasquez. Again, no questions asked, no explanation given. This was just Jackie, being Jackie. Make no mistake. Many people loved him, and saw through his mischievous manera-de-ser. He was “a wonderful person, a good uncle, a good father, a soft-spoken man, a great guide and hunter.” But there was still a something about him, about his eyes. His niece, Vickie, described as a “dogface” look that allowed him to stare down animals, as well as people.
Over the decades, the Belizean people have wondered if Jackie was actually fearless, or if his power came from extraordinary self-discipline, or if there really was perhaps, some truth to his ability to manifest a dark energy. One interviewer was known to have blurted out, “You have a national reputation as a ‘spook.’ Why do people say you steal souls?"
In my own mind’s eye, Jackie Vasquez lives on, no doubt pleased with himself, having joined ranks with the other apparitions of the Belizean bush. No doubt, he is still hiding in the shadowy darkness, staring down jaguars, and seeing who will blink first…
To my knowledge, this is the only photo anyone has ever found of
Joseph Aloysius "Jackie" Peyrefitte Vasquez (1919 – 1989)
Vasquez denied being “in league with any devil,” but proudly admitted that he did call jaguars using his own technique. Hunting dogs were the wrong tactic, as jaguars didn’t “tree” like ocelot and margay, but would circle around, and pick off the dogs one-at-a-time. Instead, Jackie used a jaguar “caller” – a gourd with a deerskin top, and a horsehair stretched tight. When he pulled up and down on the horsehair, it vibrated the skin, and made the same sound that a jaguar makes when calling other jaguars at night. It was sort of a panting noise, like or an owl out-of-breath. The supernatural sound not only called in the jaguars, but did a good job of scaring the clients as well. These “great white bwanas” also learned how incredibly close the jaguar must be in order to get a kill-shot – so close that sometimes they would freeze and be unable to pull the trigger.
- “One night, I called a cat for a guy. The cat got closer and closer, answering me. Pretty soon we heard the same sound from the opposite direction. There were jaguars coming from both sides. The man dropped his gun, ran to my Land Rover, drove off and left me there. Never saw him again. Another time, I called a jaguar in too close, and he jumped at me, and I fell flat, and the cat went right over my head. I could smell his breath. Thank God he kept going. So did I."
If the jaguars were scarce, Jackie used a clever ruse to make a show for his clients. He sometimes employed an older man named Archie, dressed him in a jaguar skin, and had him crouch down in the forest and shuffle around. But Archie had a bad knee, which gave him a pronounced limp. “Wait. Don’t shoot him,” Jackie would say. “He’s old.” Then Jackie could comfort his clients, “Well, at least you got to see a jaguar.” (Imagine the confidence level old Archie must have had, trusting Jackie to prevent the client from shooting him.)
Jackie Vasquez once arrived in Miami, mysteriously showing up at Jack Wood’s house with a huge crate of orchids, asking if he could borrow the old family station wagon for a day or two. Jack gave him the keys. Days passed with no word. Two weeks later, the old station wagon was found abandoned at the end of a dirt road in the Everglades, the rear cargo area a reeking mess of rotted vegetation. Six months later, Jack was back in Belize, smiling, and again went hunting with Vasquez. Again, no questions asked, no explanation given. This was just Jackie, being Jackie. Make no mistake. Many people loved him, and saw through his mischievous manera-de-ser. He was “a wonderful person, a good uncle, a good father, a soft-spoken man, a great guide and hunter.” But there was still a something about him, about his eyes. His niece, Vickie, described as a “dogface” look that allowed him to stare down animals, as well as people.
Over the decades, the Belizean people have wondered if Jackie was actually fearless, or if his power came from extraordinary self-discipline, or if there really was perhaps, some truth to his ability to manifest a dark energy. One interviewer was known to have blurted out, “You have a national reputation as a ‘spook.’ Why do people say you steal souls?"
- "Look at me. Am I stealing your soul? What is a soul anyway? This is ignorance, these stories. It’s true that I work on developing my willpower and my mind. I can exert control over the average man by looking at him, studying him, by using my willpower to combat his. But it's not magic. I look very intently at people, not to steal their souls, but just to practice my willpower.
- And another thing that confuses people — I walk down the road, close my eyes, and try to keep them closed till I get where I'm going. The average person can't do this. He lacks willpower, afraid he'll bump into something, so he quickly opens his eyes. But I keep mine closed for blocks and blocks, and I never fall. But this isn't magic, either. This is practice, self-control, willpower."
In my own mind’s eye, Jackie Vasquez lives on, no doubt pleased with himself, having joined ranks with the other apparitions of the Belizean bush. No doubt, he is still hiding in the shadowy darkness, staring down jaguars, and seeing who will blink first…
To my knowledge, this is the only photo anyone has ever found of
Joseph Aloysius "Jackie" Peyrefitte Vasquez (1919 – 1989)