Papa Smurf needed to go on a big search to find the corpse, to prevent anysmurf from finding it, to prevent desecration of body by predators, or even humans finding it. He thought to himself: "The Great Distributor is watching over him right now. He wants to be sure that Papa Smurf took all measures to rescue the corpse. Baby Smurfs' meat is tasty and delicious for the carnivores. If they find out that the smurfmeat is so good, they will shift significant part of their diet from herbivores to Smurfs. After several days, the Smurf cadaver turns from blue to gray. Some alkaloids develop in the dead Smurf body that makes it toxic. These toxins can make the predator nauseous, or make him vomit and get high temperature, have loss or appetite or so. If the predators then don't receive the proper medical help in a few days, they may die. The toxins are lethal for some smaller predators. The big problem will be if some herbivores and bug eating animals taste the meat of a Baby Smurf. It is normal that herbivores and insectivores sometimes eat eggs and smaller animals like lizards and small frogs and tadpoles. Scavenger birds are immune to those toxins and that would be a "bon appetit" for them if they tear apart smurfling's corpse. Scavengers sometimes hunt smaller birds and small animals, and we definitely do not want them to focus their diet on us, thought Papa Smurf. The crocodiles are present in the Smurf River, but not in this part. They are present down the river in the warmer parts of the river, on lower altitudes, where the water is warmer, and warmed by the warm streams and mountain-volcano. He could not count on the help of the mermaids like Marina, since they are far away on the other side and they are afraid of carnivore river beings. Feathers is helpless also, since there are many predatory birds. Witches also sometimes fly there and they prefer cranes as a raw material for their potions."
To look for the corpse, he must take the boat. The SS Smurf II is too big and currently was on the docks. He went into Handy's workshop. There had to be something useful. Nothing. "Oh, silly me" said Papa Smurf. "The canoe should be in the Scuba Smurf's hut or in the Handy's Dive hut." Papa Smurf continued. "Never mind. This glue, hammer and nail will be useful, in a case of damage or wreckage." He took a quick walk towards the huts. There it was. He pulled it outside and tied it to the dock pole. I need to take some necessary goods for this expedition. Some magical powders and potions, Smurf aid kit and a bag, the small coffin, the pick and a shovel. He dumped all that in the canoe, jumped inside and started paddling. Handy, Scuba, Hefty, Painter and Papa Smurf used this canoe a lot to cross local waterways. He started paddling, not too slow, not too fast. He doesn't want to get tired so early. Old Smurfs incomparably bigger cardio then old humans, but they are still old. He needs to keep the strength. Who knows how the current took the corpse far away. Who knows what might happen along the way. He reached the first rapids. He turned the canoe towards the small pebble bank. The body was there on the higher rocks in the rapids. Smurf blood is chemically aggressive for the rocks. It interacts and leaves blue-earthy brown marks on the rock and stays several days, until bacterias eat it or decomposes all by itself, since that compound is unstable. So he knew that he has to look far more downstream. Papa Smurf took some magic powder from the bag and threw it into the air. It produced very weak blue-gray coloration. "This means that the corpse is still far away. I could take a shortcut and do some other stuff too."
He has been planning a new walking trail in this area for decades, but he never found proper time to organize that. He thought: "Well, now I have the chance to walk the route I had in mind. Handy will have the feedback. I am an experienced long distance bushwalker, now is the opportunity to solve this. Great. Two things in one action. At least some good news on this terrible day. I might see the attractiveness, ease of walking, clarity of the alignment and anything else Smurfs might find notable. This new trail will join the old trail that is nearby. The old trail departed from a tributary of the East Smurf Beck near the smurfberry picking station. It is possible to paddle across the tributary, but that was off the expedition way. Papa Smurf walked along the old trail. It is safer here on the old trail. The voyage will be a few hours longer, but better safe than sorry. Going along the path of the new trail will be much riskier. That new trail is necessary, because of the smurfwood exploitation. Also the stocks of the old clay for the Smurf homes are exhausted too, and the old clay stations will run out of deposits in several months. The new unused layers are three days away. With the prepared trail, it would be much easier to extract it. New clay must be provided, since Smurf mushroom homes desperately need regular seasonal repairing, since the rain and humidity washes off that clay that decomposes due to chemical reaction with the air, minerals in rain and aggressive mould. New clay and smurfwood locations are much unsafer. There are coldwater crocodiles. Although the coldwater crocodile population had substantially recovered since the King banned the hunting a decade previously, canoeing amongst them was not considered risky. Throughout the region, King's workshops commonly issued canoes and boats for serfs, taxmen and soldiers to undertake official duties."
Heavy canoe and the equipment made Papa Smurf to change his mind. "Ouph" said Papa Smurf, wiping the sweat off his forehead. "This takes too long. I'll take my chance and paddle along the tributary. Rapids are on the Smurf River, it's impossible to paddle there, and walking with all this along the trail is a too big effort. I want to reach some safe place before the dark." Unbeknownst to Papa Smurf, heavy rainfall upriver had begun to swell the East Smurf Beck. It happened without the stormy weather, behind the mountain. The river was soon to flood. Light rain had started to fall as Papa Smurf paddled away from the canoe launch point on the tributary. The rising water obscured landmarks. He couldn't locate the trailhead, and the rain got heavier. He saw a swamp bush with the big leaves, that made perfect hiding spot. He decided to spend the night there. He pulled the canoe inside it. There was the old nest. Great place for sleeping. Very safe. The plants around this bush evaporate ethereal oils that do not smell and do repel the animals. Papa Smurf pulled his canoe over during driving rain to a rocky outcrop rising out of the swamp for a sodden snack. He was very hungry and tired.
In the dawn Papa Smurf woke up, ate sandwich and got again in the canoe. The rain did not stop the whole night. Very soon dramatic events unfolded. Suddenly he experienced the thrilling feeling of being watched as a prey. Papa Smurf has never been a timid Smurf. He was brave when he held speeches to his fellow Smurfs and in his life too. Rather than returning to the safer old trail, he decided to explore a clear, deep channel closer to the river he traveled along several hours. He explored the channel, and waited. No predator to be seen. With a growing sense of unease, he decided to return to the canoe launch point at the East Smurf Beck. As Papa Smurf pulled the canoe out into the main current of the tributary, the torrential rain and wind started up again. "Good news", he thought. Suddenly swelling beck will carry me to the Smurf River Calms, where the rapids end and it's possible to explore directly along the Smurf River. "I will arrive to that point quicker", he thought. It had not gone more than seventeen minutes down the channel. Rounding a bend, Papa Smurf saw ahead of him in midstream what looked like a floating wrinkled log. I don't recall this paddling on my way here. As the current moved him toward it, the wrinkled log appeared to develop nose and eye protrusions, just above the waterline. Papa Smurf was close to it now but was not especially scared. An encounter with the coldwater crocodile Papa Smurf did not have in twenty years. This will add interest to this day.
Although Papa Smurf was paddling to avoid the crocodile, their paths were strangely convergent. He was aware that this was going to be close encountered, but he has not been prepared for the great blow that came against the side of the canoe. New blows happened. Again, and again, now from the back, shuddering the flimsy vessel. Papa Smurf paddled furiously. The blows continued. After a long time Papa Smurf felt being a prey to the coldwater crocodile. The canoe was under attack. "What should I do?" thought Papa Smurf, as he has been losing breath against the crocodile in full pursuit. Then he remembered that coldwater crocodiles are not very smart. Cold water affects their small limited brain and their evolved into a beings with less cognitive abilities. They do not make the difference from the floating vessel and proper food, and they simply attack first moving thing they focus on, no matter being edible or not. Papa Smurf realized that he has to get out of the canoe. Otherwise, he risks being capsized or pulled into the deeper water of mid channel. I'll take my bag with me and prepare some potion to distract him. Every primitive predator is an individual case and it's impossible to prepare some protecting potion in advance. One has to prepare it right on the spot. But that's not the imperative in this moment, I have to swim away. Papa Smurf tried to leap into the lower branches of a nearby smurfgrove tree. Wrong decision! As he leapt from the canoe, the coldwater crocodile burst from the water and dragged him down and into a scary death roll. Very few beings survived coldwater crocodile's death roll to describe it. A frightening experience beyond words. Terror, helplessness. Feeling through the mind and body of imminent terrible death in the swirling depths. Papa Smurf had to think fast. He knew that this specie of reptiles generally is not suited to a prolonged struggle. Their heart metabolism and breathing cannot last long. That's why their roll is an intense burst of power. The assault must end quickly, in the initial phases. The victim must be surprised to quickly overcome its resistance. After that feebly struggling prey is held under the water. The time works for the crocodile. Metabolism can slow down, before eating and comatose phase. The prey is being drowned. Papa Smurf experienced a centrifuge of whirling, boiling blackness. It seemed it would tear his limbs from his body. The water was driving into his bursting lungs. It seemed that it lasted an eternity. It was getting beyond Papa Smurf's endurance. When he seemed all but finished, the crocodile suddenly stopped rolling. They were in a shallow place. He touched the bottom with his feet and his mouth found the surface. He strongly inhaled at air spluttering and coughing. He was still alive. But not over yet. The crocodile had him in its grip holding his hips. Papa Smurf was hugging the nearby tree, trying to hold himself above the water longer. The water was up to his neck. They stayed in that position for five minutes. Papa Smurf was still catching breath and resting, thinking what to do. When he has begun to weep for the prospects of his mangled body a new death roll started. Crocodile suddenly pitched him into a new whirling terror. The second tearing terror did not last long as the first time. Papa Smurf's palms and then his head broke the surface and he sucked in air. The crocodile still had him in the grip. Papa Smurf resurfaced next to the branch of a crunchy sandwood growing in the water. He reached out and held onto the branch with all his strength. He could not stand that suffocating inferno. He would rather let the crocodile tear him apart.
Then Papa Smurf felt a deep ultrasound, first through his abdomen, then through his body, spreading to the limbs, head and tail. It came from the crocodile's throat. "Not again", Papa Smurf thought to himself. He braced himself against the tree ready for another roll. Ten seconds passed. He felt the grip got weaker. The comatose phase started to develop. Crocodile's jaws relaxed and the crocodile was getting into the phase of a deep sleep and recovery. He used all his power to pull away from the crocodile, gripping the wood. He was not completely sure is the show still over. He dodged around the smurfswamp tree to avoid the mud bank. The only apparent escape route was to climb onto the smurfbark tree. Gripping the tree he started to leap on the branch. Papa Smurf was right. The nightmare repeated. The crocodile attacked again. It was like being in a monstrous closed circle impervious to any attempt of escape. The horror was repeating exactly in the same pattern of destruction. He was stuck fast in the mire of hopelessness. Daymare in which no will or endeavour was strong enough to get him out. He leapt into the branch, and crocodile propelled itself from the water, seizing him again, this time from the left side, biting the hips, with the teeth stabbed into his precious Smurf tail. As a lightning struck through his brain, spine and eyes, he saw everything black in front of his eyes. He briefly felt a hot sensation before being again submerged. The round three in another death roll. Eventually it stopped. They both came up in the same place as previous times, next to that tree. Papa Smurf's lungs could not hold that much. He felt them burning, at the same time still feeling the painful lightning that flashed in his head, with terrifying spasms, as if the needles pronged through his brain. He was growing weaker. Smurf tail is a weak spot on the Smurf. Besides terrible pain, it has an effect when one receives unprepared receives a strong blow in the solar plexus. Losing conscience, Papa Smurf was still aware of the events. It seemed that that crocodile is taking a long time to kill him. As if he intended to tear him apart slowly. He felt like a torn mouse in the jaws of fierce cat. Papa Smurf saw no scheme to get away. He was overpowered by angry great coldwater crocodile. He wanted this agony to end once and for all. But he had his helpless sleeping Smurfs on his mind. He put them to sleep and made them helpless. "I should have rather done nothing. They would be still alive, aware of Baby Smurf's death, but able to survive. And I made them easy targets. I cannot let them die like that." he thought to himself. Being out of any ideas, as agonizing pain from strongly pinched and bitten tail wasted all his oxygen resources, he decided to attack the crocodile with his free hands, releasing his grasp on the branch. He was feeling back behind with his hands the along the wrinkled head. He fumbled along the head two lumps. He supposed that these were crocodile's eye sockets and he jabbed his thumbs into them with all his might. The thumbs slid into warm holes that made no resistance. Were these the nostrils or the ears, the crocodile did not so much as flinch. Papa Smurf in despair resumed his hold on the tree trunk. After a time, crocodile jaws relaxed again and Papa Smurf pulled free.
Papa Smurf realized that he was in that enchanted circle because he was doing the same thing repeatedly. Coldwater crocodile is not intelligent, but is able to associate simple things. This crocodiles specie are experts in solving the simple problems. They know one problem, they are able to recognize it and to solve it by battle-tested method. No one can beat them in that game. As crocodile's jaws relaxed the grip on his tail, Papa Smurf was able to think again. "That's it!" Papa Smurf thought with his last strengths. "Breaking the pattern is the solution! He knows only this situation and he does not know what to do in other situation. I must not climb back into the tree. The only way to safe is apparently wrong and impossible. I must go up the slippery mud bank. " Although completely exhausted, he realized that the crocodile is even more exhausted and resting only brings advantage to the crocodile. Papa Smurf threw ¸himself at bank with all of his failing strength, scrabbling with his hands for a grip, falling, sliding, falling back to the bottom, to the crocodile's waiting jaws. Second try. Papa Smurf almost made it. He slid back, braking his slide two-thirds of the way down by grabbing a tuft of grass. He hung there, exhausted, defeated. He thought again that he would not make it. He felt ashamed. After all he had been through. So many smart wizards, sorcerers, Kings, elves, evil genies, he had outsmarted them all. And now he was beaten by a retarded reptile. Crocodile would just have to come and get him. The grass tuft began to give way. Papa Smurf flailed wildly to stop himself from sliding further. His fingers jammed into the soft mud, and that supported him. This is the clue for surviving. With the last of his strength, he climbed up the muddy bank, pushing his fingers into the mud to hold his weight, reached the top, with the blood trail from his tail. He stood up, incredulous.
The wheel of fortune turned this time on Papa Smurf's side. While mutually fighting, they made small waves that pushed the canoe towards the bank. With severe injuries, with his stuff tied to his belt, Papa Smurf took the canoe and began walking towards the Smurf River. Again everything was on him. No search party that would eventually find him and help him. Papa Smurf's ordeal was far from over. Paths and trails were flooded and the swollen waterways were almost impossible to navigate by canoe. But he knew that he has to get far away from the coldwater crocodile. After a while he embarked on a perilous voyage from East Smurf Beck to the Smurf River. "I must mark this in my notebook." said Papa Smurf to himself. We must put the warning signs for other Smurfs on the smurfpath so no Smurf gets into this ordeal with coldwater crocodiles.
Several days later, Papa Smurf found the remains of the corpse. They were gray. Paddling from the Smurf Rivers Calms, there were no rapids and he was able to calmly observe the bank. Fortunately, the river pushed the Smurf's body in the backwater. Few apples to the side and it would float along the river towards the waterfall half a mile downstream. As he paddled by the corpse, he saw some gold fishes that found the corpse. They were slowly chopping it, bit by bit. He chased them away with the paddle. Trying to hit the fishes, he accidentally bumped the Smurf corpse. He had to move away from the remains of the Baby Smurf, while dealing with the fishes. In the meantime the river current pushed slowly the bloated corpse towards the bank. When he returned, the corpse has already been washed ashore. He jumped from the canoe, pulling it outside. Papa Smurf quickly made some forensic investigation right on the spot. The pieces of meat and soft tissue have been eaten by the fishes. The eyes were pecked by the river birds, that know instinctively what is still edible. There were signs of the strikes on the body. The body was beaten by the rocks. It was bumping as it passed through the rapids. The onesie was ripped on several places by the sharp rocks, bird's beaks, fish bites and small branches. When he finished, he took the small coffin that was tied in the canoe. He put the Baby Smurf's corpse in the coffin and closed it. No time for saying goodbye, no rites, no cleaning and preparing for the proper burial. He needs to entomb it in a secret place, far away from here. He had to do it and do it fast. There were signs of another weather change that will come in a few days. The weather can sometimes tricky and the change happens quicker.
"There was a good reason why this river was called Damned River" sighed Papa Smurf. "We changed the name of this river since this name was raising questions among the Smurfs with all bad memories of tragic deaths that had occurred on this river."