If you are surprised by Lista’s violent thirst for knowledge, consider our own 19th century adventurer and "Father of the National Parks System," Teddy Roosevelt. Using his big stick (and trusty rifle, no doubt), TR picked off thousands of animal specimens throughout the world, presumably in the name of science. "Bully" is the word all right. But the fact is that in the days prior to modern photography, the best way to get a good look at a specimen was to kill it first, then stand over it with a magnifying glass. Perhaps this is how the phrase "Shoot first and ask questions later" originated. In this regard, one could argue that Eastman-Kodak has saved more lives than the Sierra Club, Greenpeace and Nature Conservancy combined. Hooray for technology.

So Lista’s reaction, while a bit reckless by today’s standards, was actually a politically correct maneuver in his day. Still, a larger question remains. Just what was Lista shooting at that day in Patagonia? Well, we will never know for sure because Lista’s entourage apparently couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn, and the sketch artist must have been busy with the native girls. However, based on this and other similar sightings in South America, there is at least one interesting theory. According to more than one respected professional in the field of explaining the unknown, it may have been a GIANT SLOTH!

That’s right, a giant sloth. According to natives of the Amazon Basin who have had numerous engagements with this creature before and since Lista’s time, it has "a giant bear’s body and a monkey’s face, clad in dark red fur and trailing a cloud of flying beetles." By all accounts it is also extremely odoriferous.

In fact, we know such a beast did shuffle around during the Pleistocene period based on the fossil remains gathered by ever-busy paleontologists. But the giant "ground sloths," as they are called, are thought to have disappeared at the end of this period, nearly 10,000 years ago. Could there really be survivors hidden behind the thousands of other (much smaller) species in the rainforest? The largest, stinkiest Waldos of the century? Or is this just another example of our fascination with mythical giants? The Loch Ness Monster, Sasquatch and Champ (Lake Champlain’s version of Nessie) are just a few examples of Hallucinae giganticus.

Hollywood played its ace on this subject with the creation of King Kong. Too bad. In my movie our giant sloth embarks upon the Empire State Building with girl, flying beetles and all, stopping to nap frequently and generally poking along all 102 stories right up to the very top. You might think this languorous pace would dilute the general bedlam and chaos associated with an overgrown, wild animal on the loose. You might also double your intake of concessions.

Seriously though, if the giant ground sloth is truly gone forever, it’s only because the pace of life became too much for it to bear with the onslaught of Homo sapiens. We are currently managing to send approximately 30,000 plant and animal species scurrying into extinction a year with our spastic culture. Meanwhile, the remaining, much smaller tree sloths observe our manic presence from the canopy high above. We could learn a lot by returning the stares.

Inspired by the sloth in the effort to mellow mankind, I propose a new motto for the next millennium: "Just say Whoa!" But to really get the attention of the general public, sadly enough, we would also need a new breakfast cereal mascot. Forget Tony the Tiger, Sugar Bear and all those other glucose freaks which sent us baby boomers zinging into the 20th century like there was no tomorrow. It’s time for Ponderous Sloth, peddling Lazy Bran and Leisure Flakes (each containing more than 50 percent of the FDA-recommended daily allowance of 11 essential sedatives), to grab our puny attention spans and lead us forward. Maybe then we’ll stop and smell the roses . . . or perhaps the giant sloth.

TMF, October 1999

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