Bungle in the Jungle

I ventured into the jungle today, for the first time. Alone. It is completely different from the coast, where the two dozen overused flora are easily identifiable to me now. But the true difference is in the sounds. Up the hill, away from the ocean, the lull of the ocean falls back, and the calls of wild unknown animals are taken up. The screeching and chirping is so loud it seems like it must be an arrogant statement of existence. I did not partake, as it seemed preferable for the fewest number of them as possible to know I was there. It was on a well-beaten horse trail, and as it rained this morning, the trail actually consisted of about six inches of clay mud. Quickly the bottom two inches of my shoes also consisted of it. Although, strictly speaking, this is not a rainforest, as it doesn't rain regularly year-round, I had flashbacks to Mrs. Brown's second grade class, where we made a model rainforest in a refrigerator box. It was a feeling of exotic rapture to walk into that box. But my sense of adventure has a limit. Some grunts and the possibility of a wild boar nearby sent me back to the beach.
p.s. later, I saw four fish in about one minute, which also shortened my swim.