The Guardian of the Jungle

A day like any other , I went to fetch water at the peraõ(1). I knew the songs of almost every bird, so I was surprised to hear a whistle I had never heard in the area before.

I wanted to see what kind of bird it was, so I walked toward some tall trees on the edge of the jungle, from where the sound seemed to come. When I was just a few steps away, I heard the whistle behind me, very close. I turned around, and again I heard it at my back. It seemed to be playing with me — hiding behind me and refusing to be seen.

Suddenly, the song sounded again, this time ahead of me. I drew my machete(2) and held it tightly, just in case. I took a few steps forward, but the whistle returned, almost right behind me. I couldn’t see any bird. Sometimes it came from above, sometimes from the side, and other times right over my head. Fearing I might lose my way in the jungle, I decided to head back.

As I walked, I heard it again — following me, insistent. It seemed determined to catch my attention at any cost. But I acted brave and kept walking, resolved not to stop again. Until, glancing to the side, I saw it: a small brown bird watching me intently from a branch.

Its song was strange, almost human, as if it repeated: “Yasí Yateré, Yasí Yateré.” Suddenly, it jumped onto the path, lifted its head, opened its beak, and whistled again. Beautiful, yet unsettling. I leapt over it and ran out of the jungle.

When I got home, I told my mother everything.

—“Good Lord, child!” she cried, alarmed. “When will you learn? Didn’t I tell you not to go near the jungle at siesta time?”

—“But, Mama, it was such a beautiful little song…”

—“Never go alone again! Do you know who that bird was?”

I shook my head.“It was "Yasí Yateré!"(3) He lures those who approach the jungle, and once they enter, he makes them lose their way. Sometimes he appears as a bird, but inside the forest he becomes what he truly is: a dwarf who confuses people — and more than one has been taken by him.”

After that, every time I went to the peraõ, I stayed away from the jungle. The elders always warned me to be careful about walking alone through the thickets, for Yasí liked to lure children and make them disappear.

—“My God in Heaven!” said Doña Luisa, our neighbor, when I told her what had happened. “How could you think of walking around there alone? Did you hear what happened to Don Sánchez’s son?”

—“No.”

—“Yasí threw stones at him for being ungrateful… lucky that was all.”

Alejandro, Don Sánchez’s son, had lost his machete in the jungle. He often went in to gather firewood for his oven or to sell in the village. A week earlier, he had gone to see Doña Luisa.

—“I lost my machete, Doña Luisa. Could you lend me yours until I buy a new one?”

—“Of course, son. Go with God.”

The next morning, he went to the forest early. At the entrance, he stepped on something hard: his machete. Someone had left it right at the beginning of the picada(4). He kept working, but soon after, a stone hit him so hard it knocked him down.

There was no one else. Then he understood: the Yasí had returned his machete, and he hadn’t thanked him.

Since then, Alejandro has left offerings at the foot of a tree —tender corn cobs, the favorite treat of the guardian of the forest— and cuts only what is necessary, whether wood or capotes(5). He learned his lesson.

Not everyone was as lucky. Titín, Ana’s son —the Polish woman— worked at the sawmill. One morning, he saw a small blond dwarf watching him from between the planks. The little man asked him for a bit of corn, but Titín ignored him. Shortly after, Andrés, the sawmill owner, saw his employee walking as if hypnotized toward the forest. Behind him, the tiny figure slipped away among the trees.

They searched for him for two days. They finally found him high up in a tree, tangled in ysypó(6), bearded, and out of his senses. He remembered nothing: not his name, not his home, not the people of the village.

During my childhood in Misiones, I heard a thousand times about the Yasí Yateré. I was always curious to see him among the trees, but I never knew if he was a bird, an enchanted child, or a spirit of the forest. Everyone agreed, however, that he lured people with his whistle —like a siren’s song in the middle of the jungle.

As the years went by, I grew tired of searching for him. And when we moved to Buenos Aires, amid the noise of factories and cars, I forgot about that whistler of the woods. Only sometimes, while watching documentaries about the jungle, his memory returned to me.

A few months ago, I went back to Misiones to visit my cousins. While we were drinking mate on the porch, Hilda ran off to answer the phone.

—It must be Ignacio, from Buenos Aires —she said.

I kept looking at the neighboring cassava field. The wind was moving the leaves —or so I thought. But then I noticed the movement had rhythm, direction. As if someone were walking among the plants. I put down my mate and approached.

Suddenly, I heard a whistle behind me. I turned around: nothing. Again, in front. I pushed the branches aside: nothing. And again, behind me. I turned quickly… and saw it —a small brown bird, the same one that had watched me years ago in the forest. It stared at me, motionless.

Before it began to whistle, I ran. I didn’t stop until I was out of the cassava field.

Since then, I’ve never again said —like so many do— that the Yasí Yateré is just a popular legend from the Litoral. There are things we don’t understand, but they exist. And they’re there —on the other side of the forest.

1 Name used by small farmers in the province of Misiones, Argentina, and in southern Brazil to refer to small waterfalls.

2 Tool with a long, wide blade, used for cutting vegetation and performing agricultural tasks; it can also be used as a weapon.

3 The Yasy Yateré is a character from Guaraní mythology, present in Paraguay, the Argentine Litoral —especially Misiones, Corrientes, and northern Entre Ríos— and southern Brazil. Its name means “child of the sky” or “child of the moon” in Guaraní, although translations vary by region. It is described as a dwarf or small child, with blond or reddish hair, who often takes the form of a bird. In its human form, it wears colorful clothing and a hat. Mischievous but dangerous, many call it the guardian of the forest, as it punishes those who enter the woods and take more than they should.

It lures unsuspecting people into the depths of the forest using hypnotic whistles or its enchanting song, and according to tradition, it can disorient travelers, make them get lost, or punish those who do not respect the rules of the forest. It is said to enjoy certain foods, such as corn, fruits, or honey, and offering something to it can appease its anger or earn its favor.

4 In the Argentine Litoral and eastern Paraguay, a narrow and generally cleared path in the forest is commonly called a "Picada," traditionally used for the passage of people, animals, or the transport of firewood and other resources.

5 Capote (Xanthosoma robustum): a perennial herbaceous plant of the Araceae family, native to southern Brazil, Paraguay, and northeastern Argentina (Misiones), with large leathery leaves traditionally used for coverage, shade, or firewood. Unlike the "Siete Capotes" (Campomanesia guazumifolia), which is known for its delicious fruit, the Capote does not produce edible fruits.

6 In Guaraní: liana, vine, creeper, ivy, climbing plant.