GEORGETOWN.
Another year has slipped past and again we are southward bound, toward
that Mecca—the tropics—which never ceases to call us. The time is the
fifteenth of February, 1909; the place, the Royal Dutch Mail Steamship
“Coppename.”
Nine days out from New York at three o’clock in the morning we are roused
suddenly from sleep by a gentle roaring in our ears. When we have gained
partial consciousness we realize it is the basso-profundo whisper of good
Captain Haasnoot summoning us to the bridge. We ask no questions for we
have learned that the voice of the genial Dutchman means something worth
while, whether it is raised in a thunderous roar of “_Hofmeister!_” or as
now in gentler accents. Wrapped in flapping blankets, we climb the steep
ladder to the bridge, there to enjoy for half an hour a most wonderful
display of phosphorescence—even excelling that often visible in the Bay
of Fundy. The Captain in all his world-wide sea-faring has never seen
anything to equal it.
We are only a short distance off the shore of British Guiana and the
ocean is thick with sediment from the rivers. The sky is overcast and no
light comes from the moon and stars, and yet the whole sea is plainly
visible. The horizon glows with a dull, yellow flare against the jet
black sky, and the myriad foam-caps shimmer as with brighter flames. The
quenching of these in the opaque water gives a vivid impression of an
enormous conflagration half hidden behind billows of smoke.
At day-break Georgetown is in sight—a low, flat line of wharfs, with a
background of galvanized tin roofs and tall bending palm trees. Never was
a fairyland set in so prosaic a frame!
With what mingled feelings our little ship’s family lean on the rail and
scan the shore! To some the thought comes of the miracles of yellow gold
and precious stones hidden deep beneath the primitive forests; to other
sea-weary travellers the stability of the shore appeals most; while we
two watch for the first hint of bird life. Our desire is gratified before
that of any of the others, for over the water there comes the first
morning call of the great yellow Tyrant[101]—_Kis-ka-dee!_ bringing a
hundred memories of the tropics.
As we steam slowly up to the wharf a small flock of Gray-breasted
Martins[122] twitters above our heads, a Black Vulture[51] swings over
the tin roofs, the jubilant song of a Guiana House Wren[124] reaches our
ear, and our Second Search has begun.
To those who seek for wildernesses there is not much of interest in
Georgetown, save the museum and the botanical garden. Yet there is no
doubt that the city is one of the most attractive in the tropics, and
when the inhabitants are aroused to a sense of the opportunities which
they are throwing away, it will become a famous tourist resort; awakening
the country to new life and bringing shekels to the coffers of its
merchants. Hotels and mosquitoes are the two keys to the situation—the
one to be acquired, the other banished. When this is done, the many
popular winter resorts will be hard put to it to retain their lucrative
migrants from the North. The inhabitants of Georgetown have one
regrettable failing—an unreasoning fear and dread of their own country.
They cling to their narrow strip of coastal territory, where they work
and play, live and die, many of them without ever having been five miles
away from the sea. The majority of the inhabitants of French Guiana are
convicts, chained for life to their prisons; here the good people of
British Guiana bind themselves with imaginary bonds and picture their
wonderful land as teeming with serpents and heaven-knows-what other
terrors.
[Illustration: FIG. 57. STREET IN GEORGETOWN.]
Another unfortunate failing is the firm conviction of some of the
influential citizens that there is no truth in the mosquito theory as a
cause of malaria and yellow fever.
A distinguished English scientist, recently sent to investigate yellow
fever in Barbados and British Guiana, was holding up as an example to the
citizens of Georgetown the Barbadian custom of keeping fishes in their
water cisterns; explaining that the fishes devoured the mosquito larvæ
and thus kept down the number of mosquitoes. A Barbadian who chanced to
be in the audience interrupted the scientist by saying, “Oh, but that is
not the reason they put fishes in the cisterns. It is to make sure the
water has not been poisoned by some enemy”!
Until the mosquito is exterminated in Georgetown the tourist will prefer
to go elsewhere, even though that be to a less beautiful spot.
[Illustration: FIG. 58. KISKADEE TYRANT FLYCATCHER.]
We were advised to spend all our time in Georgetown, where we might drink
pink swizzles (than which no worse medicine exists!) or read in the cool
library, or study the natural history of the country impaled on pins or
stuffed with cotton (both of which are improving occupations but can
be done quite as well in New York). Every moment spent in streets of
human making seemed sacrilege when the real wilderness—the wilderness of
Waterton, of Schomburgk and of im Thurn—beckoned to us just beyond.
Armed with proper letters of introduction and travelling in the name
of science, one is treated with all courtesy by Guiana officials. The
customs give no trouble, save that one pays a deposit of twelve per cent
on cameras, guns and cartridges.
We were glad to find that the most difficult privilege to obtain is a
permit to collect birds, and the very stringent laws in this respect are
an honor to the Governor and his colonial officials.[C] Thanks to the
absence of the plume and general millinery hunter, the game hog and the
wholesale collector, birds are abundant and tame. We were in the colony
just two months and shot only about one hundred specimens, all of which
were secured because of some special interest. We brought home some
two hundred and eighty live birds which are now housed in the New York
Zoölogical Park.
Once off the single wharf-lined, business street of Georgetown, one is
instantly struck by the beauty of the place. Green trees, flowering vines
and shrubs are everywhere, half hiding the ugly, tropical architecture.
The streets are all wide, some with gravel walks down the centre, shaded
with the graceful saman trees; others with central trenches filled with
the beautiful _Victoria regia_—here a native.
Two species of big Tyrant Flycatchers [101], [103] are the English
Sparrows of the city and White-breasted Robins,[128] Palm [144] and
Silver-beak[146] Tanagers perch on the limbs of trees at one’s very
window.
Although we are anxious to start on our first expedition into the “bush,”
as the primeval forests of the interior are called, yet a week passes
very pleasantly in the city itself.
The street life is a passing pageant, full of interest and of the charm
of novelty for the Northerner. Carriages roll past in which sit very
correctly dressed and typical English women; still others are filled with
creoles, some to all appearances perfectly white, others in which the
infusion of negro blood is very apparent. Many of the creole women have
a certain languid beauty and a good deal of grace and self-possession.
The passing of the liveried carriage of the Governor causes a ripple
of excitement. It is five o’clock, the fashionable hour for driving,
and all these equipages are bound for the sea-wall, where the occupants
sit and listen to an excellent band, enjoy the sea breeze and chat
with their neighbors about the all-important happenings of the social
set of Georgetown; while the pale-faced children dig in the sand or
run shrieking with glee from an incoming wave, just as do their rosy
contemporaries of the North.
Another picture is the coolie in his loose, white garments and turban and
his sinewy, bare, brown legs. He gazes at you as calmly and as unmoved
as though you were not. Even the lowest coolie bears about him this
unconscious dignity of an ancient race and a civilization that was old
when we were but beginning.
[Illustration: FIG. 59. COOLIE WOMAN AND NEGRESS.]
The coolie women make a vivid spot of color in our pageant—like some
glowing tropical flower. Many of them are beautiful in feature and
all are graceful in bearing. There never were women who so perfectly
understood the art of walking. They swing along erect and lithe with a
springing step and perfect coördination of every muscle. Their heavy
bracelets and anklets tinkle musically as they move; their gay red and
yellow and blue scarfs flutter in the breeze. The poise of their bodies
reflects the perfect calm and repose of their smooth, brown faces.
What an antithesis they are to the ponderous old black women who are
striding along, with bedraggled skirts gathered up in a roll around
their massive waists. They are untidy and slatternly in dress, heavy
and awkward in movement in comparison with the straight, slim, coolie
women. They are full of loud laughter and talk and song. At every street
corner they gather in friendly, jovial groups, while the coolie women are
strangely silent and reserved. No wonder that these two races so hate and
scorn one another, for in temperament they are as far apart as the poles!
The British Guiana blacks were to us an unending source of interest and
amusement. They were always courteous and kindly and most original.
Even when swearing at each other their manner was always polite and
each anathema ended with a civil “Suh!” Their dialect was at first very
difficult to understand, but when our ears became familiar with it we
found it singularly attractive. All the a’s are broad, even in such words
as bad and man; while the intonation is indescribable, the verbs in a
sentence being always emphasized and given a slight rising inflection,
as for example, “I have _been_ to Berbice.” An interrogation is often
not at all indicated by the form of a question, but merely by the rising
inflection, as—“These are nice?” The general effect of their speech is a
very musical and distinctive intonation.
Always the irrepressible spirit of the black rises serenely above all
the vicissitudes of life. A black woman from Arakaka was sentenced to a
month in jail. Upon her return she was welcomed by a crowd of friends,
all eager to hear something of that mysterious jail, to which none of
them were sure they might not some day go. To their questions “How was
it? how was it?” the heroine of the occasion replied with great dignity,
“Me chile, dey see I was a lady an’ dey didn’ give me de same work as
de other prisoners.” Later, on a trip down the river, the same woman,
meeting the magistrate who had sentenced her, proudly remarked, “_Now_ I
travel by meself”; her only previous experience in travelling having been
under the escort of the police!
Many of the blacks have far advanced cases of elephantiasis. In a five
minutes’ walk one will see a half dozen examples of this deadly disease;
but it takes more than elephantiasis or jail to sadden the volatile
spirits of the negro!
[Illustration: FIG. 60. THE GEORGETOWN SEA-WALL.]
Cosmopolitan as is the street pageant of Georgetown, it is, however, not
so much so as that of Port of Spain. The coolies are even more numerous
there than here, and in addition to the same sort of English and negro
life, there is also an American, Spanish and French element. One hears on
all sides the pretty French patois, and the musical Spanish of the South
American is a constant delight. This large Spanish and French population
make Port of Spain a decidedly Catholic city, and priests and nuns in
unfamiliar garbs are always a part of the picture.
It is very hard for us Northerners to realize that the course of a
tropical day is much the same the year around. Here is a Georgetown day
as we found it in February. At 5.30 A.M. it is still dark and the only
sound is an occasional raucous crow from chanticleer. Soon a subdued
murmur of sound is heard and this remains unchanged in volume for some
time. Then the sunrise gun booms in the distance; a Kiskadee shrieks just
outside our window; a score of others answer him; church chimes ring out;
noisy coolie carts rattle past; negroes sing, dogs bark; an excellent
brass band strikes up a two-step and amid all this pandemonium of sound
the sun literally leaps above the horizon and instantly fills the world
with brilliant color. The scene changes like magic; there is no dawn or
dusk, night gives place to day without intermission. The temperature
morning and evening is about 76°.
Woven amid all the harsh cries of Kiskadees and Tanagers is heard the
sweet warbling of the little House Wrens, reminding us of our singers of
the North, and bubbling over with the same crisp, vocal vitality which we
hear in early Spring in our own country.
Like the morning, the tropical day itself is one of extremes. The
morning dawns fresh and bracing; until nine o’clock one walks briskly,
breathes deeply and can hardly realize that he is at sea-level within
seven degrees of the equator. It is April and May in the calendar of
one’s feelings. Then for an hour or two June reigns, and finally from
eleven to five o’clock in the afternoon it is hot, sultry August. In
the shade, however, it is always comfortable. From three o’clock on we
experience the coolness of October and until darkness shuts suddenly down
about half-past six—like the snuffing out of a candle—the temperature is
perfect. The nights are delightfully cool. Mosquitoes are bad only in the
houses and at night one’s net is a protection. The humidity is high but
it is far more bearable than that of a summer in New York City, contrary
to our usual idea of the tropics.
The manner of rain in the tropics is peculiar: the atmosphere may be
ablaze with brilliant sunshine, when a slight haze appears in the air and
suddenly one realizes that a fine gentle rain is falling. This may cease
as imperceptibly as it began, or increase to a terrific downpour—to give
place perhaps a few minutes later to the clear tropic glare again.
Before taking leave of Georgetown we must mention the three chief points
of attraction. The sea-wall comes first and, as we have said, a most
pleasant custom of the natives is to drive there in late afternoon and
sit in their carriages. The concrete break-water is of vital importance
to the town itself as a portion of the streets are below sea-level. The
broad summit forms a mile or more of promenade, with a sandy beach on one
side, lapped with waves which strive ever to break, but cannot because
of the thick sediment which they hold in suspense. On the other side a
double row of tall, graceful palms adds a touch of tropical beauty.
The residences near the sea-wall are the coolest and most pleasant
in the town and are practically free from mosquitoes. We spent more
than one delightful evening in the garden at Kitty Villa as the
guests of our charming American friends, Mr. and Mrs. Howell. From
the open, veranda-like rooms one may watch the Yellow Orioles,[159]
the Brown-breasted Pygmy Grosbeaks,[129] the Anis and Kiskadees going
to roost. Just before dusk scores of the small Black Vultures[51]
appear, flying singly, or in twos and threes low over the trees and
palms westward to some general roost. About this time the bats and the
lightning bugs arrive, large numbers of very tiny bats hawking about
after insects, and several large fruit-eaters with wings spreading almost
two feet across. These haunt the fruit-laden sapadillo trees, and as
the method of feeding of these curious creatures does not seem to be
generally known we watch it with interest. One of the big fellows flits
here and there, nipping first one fruit and then another. At last when a
sweet or fully ripe one is found, the bat swoops up to it, alights head
downward, and half enveloping it with his wings, bites away frantically
for two or three seconds and then dashes off. This is repeated until
darkness settles down, but never does the wary bat linger over his feast.
In the north the sight of a single bat darting along on its eccentric way
is not uncommon, but here we were soon to become accustomed to the sight
of scores, some pursuing insects, or feeding on fruits, or waiting and
watching for a chance to drink the blood of men and animals. More than
twenty-five species have been found here within a few miles of the coast.
Small Owls and nocturnal insectivorous birds are somewhat rare, and thus
the bats have few foes and little competition in their aërial life.
Late in the evening as we drive slowly homeward from the sea-wall we
discover another interesting microcosm of the tropics. The road is well
lighted with arc-lamps—sources of irresistible attraction to numberless
insects, many of which drop stunned to the earth beneath. Some genius
among the Georgetown toads has discovered this fact and passed the word
along, until now one finds a circle of expectant amphibians squatted
beneath each arc-light, with eyes and hopes lifted to the shining globe
overhead. Now and then an unfortunate insect falls within the magic
circle, when a toad leaps lazily forward and devours the morsel with one
lightning-like flick of the tongue. Many of these toads (_Bufo agua_)
are enormous fellows, a good hatful, standing full eight inches from
their pudgy toes to their staring eyes, all comical, dignified, fat and
sluggish, barely hopping aside in time to avoid the horse and carriage.
[Illustration: FIG. 61.]
To a visiting naturalist the museum is the place of greatest interest,
and although the animals and birds are faded and poorly mounted, yet
they are representative of the fauna of the country and are hence of
great value in accustoming one’s eyes to the strange forms of life.
The present Curator, Mr. James Rodway, did everything in his power to
aid us, and we are indebted to him for many kindnesses. Although he is
primarily a botanist, entomology occupies his attention at present, and
the supply of species of the various orders of insects living in this
region seems well-nigh inexhaustible. Mr. Rodway is a good example of the
healthfulness of British Guiana, for he has lived there thirty-nine years
and has been ill only one day. He accounts for this by his teetotalism,
but perhaps the next person we meet will inform us that a half dozen
swizzles a day are absolutely necessary to keep the breath of life within
the body!
[Illustration: FIG. 62.]
The Botanical Gardens, under the able direction of Prof. J. B. Harrison,
are a great credit to the colony. With beautiful vistas of palms and
ornamental shrubs they combine smooth expanses of green lawns—a rare
feature in a tropical landscape. Ponds and ditches are filled with
Victoria regia and lotus, save one where a number of manatees keep the
aquatic vegetation cropped close. A wonderful palm was in blossom at the
time of our visit—a Taliput with a mass of bloom twelve feet in height
which had begun to flower the month before. Governor Hodgson and Prof.
Harrison gave us the freedom of the garden and placed at our disposal
five circular aviaries which proved of inestimable value in housing the
living birds which we were able to secure.
[Illustration: FIG. 63. VICTORIA REGIA IN THE BOTANICAL GARDENS.]
Here Mr. Lee S. Crandall, our assistant, made his trapping headquarters
after our return from our first inland expedition and here we spent many
afternoons among the fields and bypaths.
We soon found that bird-trapping in the tropics is a task beset by many
difficulties. The extreme heat between the hours of ten and four o’clock
make even the “tackiest” lime nearly as thin as water, and hardly capable
of holding even the diminutive “doctor-bird” as the natives call the
Hummingbirds. The call-birds, which are confined in very small cages,
or cribs, cannot endure the high temperature under these conditions,
and soon succumb if left out in the sun. Operations, therefore, must be
confined to the few hours immediately following sunrise, and preceding
sunset.
Another feature, very trying to the bird-catcher, is the habit which most
of the birds have of going singly or in pairs. A few of the Ictcrine
birds, such as the Yellow-headed Blackbird,[154] Cowbird,[153] Little
Boat-tailed Grackle,[160] and most of the Cassiques, feed usually in
flocks, sometimes of great size. In the deep bush of the interior it is
the habit of birds of many species to search together for food, following
a set route, and keeping closely to their time schedule. But ordinary
call-birds and “set-ups” are not for these.
[Illustration: FIG. 64. LOTUS IN BLOSSOM.]
This gregarious habit among widely varying birds is, however, at
times, a great aid to the trapper. A cage containing a Yellow-bellied
Calliste[142] was one day placed in a tree about twenty feet high,
and limed twigs arranged on neighboring branches. In two hours in the
morning, two specimens of the same species, three Blue Tanagers,[143]
two Black-faced Callistes,[141] two Toua-touas or Brown-breasted Pygmy
Grosbeaks,[129] and one Yellow Oriole[159] were taken. The various
species of Tanagers and Orioles are much more gregarious in feeding
habits than the Finches, hence the variety caught. The Toua-touas
were purely accidental visitors. The Finches can rarely be taken by a
call-bird not of the same species.
The black or coolie boy who makes his living at catching birds at
“tuppence” each, sets out at daylight with his two or three call-birds in
their cribs, arranged on a stick. Arrived at some secluded spot, where
he has heard the song of an intended victim, he sets his call-birds on
upright sticks of two or three feet in length and places on the top of
each cage a strong wire, heavily smeared with the gum of the sapadillo.
This wire is very carefully twisted so that it cannot by any possibility
become loosened. This is, of course, contrary to the ethics of all good
bird-catchers, for if the bird falls to the ground with its stick, it
is much more certain to be secured, and less liable to injure itself.
However, this is British Guiana.
Having made his “set-up,” the youth steals softly back and conceals
himself a short distance away. As soon as left to themselves, the birds,
if they be experienced, commence their song. Soon, an answering call is
heard. Instantly the decoys cease their song, and send forth their sharp
call-notes. Soon the curious stranger appears, perhaps a fine adult
male, full of eagerness for a battle. If this be the case the songs are
again resumed, and the climax of the concert is almost certain to be the
capture of the challenger. If the visitor be a coy female, the seductive
call-notes are continued, and, though the time required may be greater,
she is nearly as certain to be captured. Callow youngsters out for their
first exploring trip, are of course the easiest victims. But when the
trapper has taken a bird or two from this locality he must move on or
give up for the day, for he will take no more.
[Illustration: FIG. 65. TALIPUT PALM IN BLOSSOM.]
The trapping methods of these people are, of course, very primitive.
They know nothing of clap-nets; they laugh at the idea of catching
birds with an Owl, as practised successfully in the North. A black boy
will bend his gummed wire securely on a likely twig, and lie all day
on his back in the shade, hoping that a bird may light on it. Birds to
whose capture they are not equal are very apt to be “licked”—stunned by
a bullet from a sling-shot—and foisted on the unwary purchaser. These
unfortunates, of course, rarely live more than a day or two.
No regard is shown for nesting birds or nestlings. Cassiques and Orioles
are captured by adjusting a string about the mouth of the long pendulous
nest, and closing it tightly when the bird has entered to hover its eggs.
In two instances, a black boy was seen to capture the female from her
nest, by creeping up and dropping his hat over her.
Some use is made of primitive trap-cages, which are baited with plantain
or sliced mangoes. Tanagers or “sackies” and various Orioles are taken in
this manner.
These simple people have, of course, no knowledge whatever of proper
food for insectivorous or frugivorous birds. Various fruits, preferably
plantain, are used, and it is truly surprising how long some individuals
will survive on this too acid food. Mr. Howie King, Government Agent
of the Northwest District, actually kept a specimen of the Yellow
Oriole[159] for over seven years on a strictly fruit diet!
Birds and other creatures were very abundant and tame in the Botanical
Gardens. Guiana Green Herons[38] or “Shypooks” as the coolies call
them, Spur-winged Jacanas[23] and Gallinules[13] walked here and there,
the latter leading their dark-hued young over the Regia pads. Small
crocodiles basked half out of the water, none over three feet in length,
as abundant as turtles in a northern mill-pond. Several huge water
buffalo, imported from the East Indies, looked strangely out of place
in this hemisphere. Butterflies were scarce although a great variety of
flowers were in profusion everywhere.
[Illustration: FIG. 66. CANAL OF THE CROCODILES.]
April seems to be the height of the breeding season for many birds. In
one tree we found two wasps’ nests, and nests with eggs or young of
the following six species of birds; the Red-winged Ground Dove,[9] the
Great[101] and Lesser[103] Kiskadees, White-shouldered Ground Fly-catcher
or “Cotton-bird,”[97] Gray Tody-flycatcher or “Pipitoori”[99] and
Cinereus Becard.[114]
Chestnut Cuckoos of two species,[77], [78] all four Kiskadees,[101],
[103], [104], [106] Caracaras,[53] Black-faced Tanagers or “Bucktown
Sackies,”[141] Woodhewers, Elanias[100] and other Flycatchers are a few
among many birds which we were sure of seeing on every walk, while Anis,
both great[79] and small[80] were everywhere.
The Botanical Gardens are ideal for experimental botanical work and
sugar cane in scores of varieties is being kept under observation. It
is hard to believe that the delicate grass which we see springing up in
the ditched fields will grow into the lofty and waving stalks of sugar
cane. It is exceedingly variable and should afford excellent material
for experimental study. The original yellow-stalked cane develops red
and purple streaks in many combinations, due apparently to difference in
soils. Cane sent to Louisiana will, within twelve years, produce much
larger nodes owing to the plant having to fruit in six months instead
of eleven or twelve. The stalk, however, does not gain correspondingly
in diameter; so there is no increase in sugar capacity. Tropical plants
can in many cases adapt themselves to shorter, northern summers, but
temperate perennials soon die in the tropics from exhaustion, lacking
their annual period of rest.
The climatic conditions along the coast of British Guiana are peculiar,
in that they simulate conditions usually existing at an altitude of two
or three thousand feet. One result of this is seen in the flourishing
tree-ferns planted in the Botanical Gardens.
Insects were not particularly abundant in Georgetown, that is, for a
tropical country. One day Mr. Rodway, with his accustomed kindness,
brought us two very interesting chrysalids of the swallow-tailed
butterfly, _Papilio polydamus_, illustrating the remarkable color
variation in this species. Both were found in his yard, a few feet
from each other, one suspended among green leaves and the other on a
wooden stairway which was painted a brick-red. One of the chrysalids was
leaf-green in color while the other was brown with brick-red trimmings!
[Illustration: FIG. 67. YOUNG ELANIA FLYCATCHERS.]
There was one remarkable exception to the scarcity of insects
in Georgetown. Late in February, a moth-like Homopterus insect,
_Poeciloptera phalaenoides_, was present in enormous numbers on the Saman
trees which line many of the streets. The largest individuals had wings
almost an inch in length of a light cream color, covered for about half
their expanse with two masses of black dots. These were the males. The
females were wingless and their bodies were covered with a long dense
cottony secretion. The eggs and larvæ which lined thousands of the twigs
were also protected by this white material. One could hardly walk without
crushing these insects, so numerous were they. The only birds we observed
feeding on them were Anis and domestic fowls.
The middle of April found these insects as abundant as ever, still
hatching in myriads, but by the 22d of the month the broods on the main
streets seemed to be diminishing, although the hordes infesting the trees
at the entrance of the Botanical Gardens were on the increase. Noticing
that there seemed to be interesting nodes of variation in the number and
patterns of the dots on the wings of the males, we set a Coolie boy to
gathering them for future study and he soon had a thousand or more in a
jar of alcohol.