Ravaged by its own kind, a piranha from Brazil's Rio das Mortes, River of
Death, reflects the voracious side of the fish's nature. After this one-pound
nattereri was hooked and thus vulnerable, its rivermates attacked, biting
out huge chunks in a few seconds. Piranha species may number around 20, but
sparse data and identification problems preclude a specific total.
“Aren’t you worried about piranhas?” I asked in my best schoolbook
Spanish. He didn’t bother to reply in words, but the answer came through load
and clear a casual shrug of the shoulders, expressing anything but worry. At a
sign from one of the waders, my taciturn friend began tugging gently. Floats
bobbed as the net was eased shoreward. The catch proved to be a modest one
several dozen common table fish, along with piranhas, including a number of the
reputedly vicious Serrasalmus nattereri flipped out of the net onto the
bank. The nearest fisherman slapped his hand at the maverick – an instinctive
“shoo” aimed only at the slightest contact, like that of a person trying to
flip a glowing ember back into a fireplace. I saw no contact of hand and fish.
Then I noticed blood on the third finger of the man’s right hand. During the
preceding split second the creature’s toothy scalpel had removed a piece of
flesh the size of a dime, all but shearing the bone.
For a moment the victim seemed unaware of the wound. A piranha bite, like the
cut of a razor, is said to be virtually painless at the instant it happens. Only
when others noticed the blood did the fishermen see it too. His face blanched,
but he made no sound.
