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IN THE WILDS OF SOUTH AMERICA
[Illustration:
_From a painting by Louis Agassiz Fuertes._
The cock-of-the-rock at home.]
IN THE WILDS
OF SOUTH AMERICA
SIX YEARS OF EXPLORATION IN
COLOMBIA, VENEZUELA, BRITISH GUIANA, PERU, BOLIVIA,
ARGENTINA, PARAGUAY, AND BRAZIL
BY
LEO E. MILLER
OF THE AMERICAN MUSEUM OF NATURAL HISTORY
WITH OVER 70 ILLUSTRATIONS AND A MAP
NEW YORK
CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS
1919
COPYRIGHT, 1917, 1918, BY
CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS
Published October, 1918
[Illustration]
TO
MY WIFE
L. E. M.
PREFACE
I have frequently wondered how many of the large number of people who
visit natural-history museums have any conception of the appearance
and actions, in their wilderness homes, of the creatures they see, and
of the experiences of the field-naturalists who visit the little-known
places of the earth in search of them.
My experience as a field-naturalist consists of nearly six years
of almost continuous exploration in South America, and embraces
practically all of the republics of that continent.
The purpose of this narrative is to follow the course of these
explorations into the tropical jungles of the Amazon, Paraguay,
Orinoco, and others of South America’s master rivers, and to the frigid
heights of the snow-crowned Andes.
In these jungles one hears the hoarse cough of the jaguar and the
scream of long-tailed, multicolored macaws as they fly two by two
overhead; the extraordinary chorus of frogs and insects may lull the
weary senses to sleep at nightfall, but the dismal roar of howling
monkeys is sure to awaken one at dawn. To start at the sudden,
long-drawn hiss of a boa or the lightning-like thrust of the terrible
bushmaster, the largest of poisonous snakes, and a creature so deadly
that a man may die within ten minutes after the fatal stroke, and to
shudder as the wild, insane cackle of the wood-rails shatters the
brooding silence of the forest, are merely incidents of the explorer’s
every-day life; and so, too, are visits to deep lagoons teeming with
crocodiles, cannibal fishes, and myriads of water-fowl; lengthy
sojourns in gloomy forests where orchids droop from moss-draped
branches, brilliant butterflies shimmer in the subdued light, and
curious animals live in the eternal shadows; and ascents of the
stupendous mountain ranges where condors soar majestically above
the ruins of Incan greatness. In short, the expeditions recorded in
the book lead through remote wilderness where savage peoples and
little-known animals spend their lives in stealth and vigilance, all
oblivious of the existence of an outer world.
* * * * *
The explorations here recounted were undertaken by me as a member or
leader of the following expeditions, all of which were undertaken
under the auspices of the American Museum of Natural History, New York
City: Colombia--March, 1911, to September, 1912; Colombia--November,
1914, to April, 1915; Venezuela--November, 1912, to June, 1913;
British Guiana--July to October, 1913; Roosevelt-Rondon South American
Expedition, mostly in Brazil but covering a part of Paraguay, with
stops in Uruguay and Argentina--October, 1913, to June, 1914;
Bolivia--May, 1915, to January, 1916, touching at Panama, Ecuador,
and Peru en route; Argentina--January to September, 1916. The purpose
of these expeditions was to collect birds and mammals; also to study
the fauna in general and to make all possible observations regarding
the flora, topography, climate, and human inhabitants of the regions
visited. The personnel of each expedition is given in the proper place
in the text.
I wish to acknowledge my indebtedness to Doctor Frank M. Chapman and
to Colonel Theodore Roosevelt for suggesting and encouraging the
production of this book, also to Mrs. Alice K. Fraser for the great
amount of time and work devoted to typewriting the manuscript.
LEO E. MILLER.
CONTENTS
PART I
COLOMBIA
CHAPTER PAGE
I. BUENAVENTURA TO CALI AND THE CAUCA VALLEY 3
II. POPAYÁN AND THE CERRO MUNCHIQUE 18
III. THE ANDES SOUTHWEST OF POPAYÁN; CRUISE OF THE “CALDAS” 34
IV. CARTAGO TO THE PARAMOS OF RUIZ AND SANTA ISABEL 47
V. THE CHOCÓ COUNTRY ON THE WESTERN COAST OF COLOMBIA 64
VI. IN QUEST OF THE COCK-OF-THE-ROCK 76
VII. CROSSING THE EASTERN ANDES INTO THE CAQUETÁ 92
VIII. ACROSS THE ANTIOQUIAN GOLD-FIELDS TO PUERTO VALDIVIA ON
THE LOWER CAUCA 106
IX. ASCENT OF THE PARAMILLO--COLLECTING ON THE RIO SUCIO 120
PART II
VENEZUELA
X. FIFTEEN HUNDRED MILES ON THE ORINOCO 141
XI. THE MAQUIRITARES’ LAND AND THE UPPER ORINOCO 162
XII. LIFE IN THE GUIANA WILDS 180
XIII. FIRST WEEKS WITH THE ROOSEVELT SOUTH AMERICAN EXPEDITION 194
XIV. HUNTING EXCURSIONS ALONG THE UPPER PARAGUAY 208
XV. A FORTY DAYS’ RIDE THROUGH WILDEST MATTO GROSSO 223
XVI. THE DESCENT OF THE RIO GY-PARANÁ 240
XVII. DOWN THE COAST OF PERU--LAKE TITICACA AND LA PAZ--THROUGH
THE ANCIENT INCAN EMPIRE TO COCHABAMBA 265
XVIII. CROSSING THE BOLIVIAN HIGHLANDS FROM COCHABAMBA TO THE
CHAPARÉ 279
XIX. AMONG THE YURACARÉ INDIANS OF THE RIO CHIMORÉ 303
XX. THE CACTUS FORESTS OF CENTRAL BOLIVIA--COCHABAMBA TO
SAMAIPATA 321
XXI. A MULE-BACK JOURNEY ON THE SANTA CRUZ TRAIL TO SUCRE 336
XXII. SUCRE, THE RIO PILCOMAYO, AND THE UPLAND DESERT TO THE
ARGENTINE FRONTIER 349
XXIII. BIRD-NESTING IN NORTHWESTERN ARGENTINA 365
XXIV. THE CHACO--SUGAR PLANTATIONS AND RICE MARSHES--A SEARCH
FOR A RARE BIRD 378
XXV. VIZCACHA-HUNTING IN AN ARGENTINE DESERT--GIANT SNAKES 396
XXVI. THE LAKE REGION OF WESTERN ARGENTINA--THE HEART OF THE
WINE COUNTRY 412
INDEX 425
ILLUSTRATIONS
The cock-of-the-rock at home _Frontispiece_
FACING PAGE
Buenaventura 4
Cattle grazing in the Cauca Valley 14
Port of Guanchito 14
Cerro Munchique 30
A deserted Indian hut on the Cerro Munchique 30
The _Caldas_ fast on a sand-bar in the Cauca River 44
Bamboo rafts on the Cauca River 44
The town of Salento 50
The lake on the paramo of Santa Isabel 58
Snow on the paramo of Ruiz 58
Native of Juntas de Tamaná with trail-haunting blacksnake 68
The author with natives of Juntas de Tamaná 68
Nóvita, the largest town in the Chocó 72
Threshing wheat 78
Indian hut in the Valle de las Papas 78
The village of Santa Barbara 86
A corner of San Augustin 86
A mountain stream, such as the Rio Naranjos, where the
cock-of-the-rock spends its existence 88
Tree-fern, typical of the Andean forests 98
The high, flat-topped panorama of the Andes 102
The town of Valdivia 108
The Cauca River at Puerto Valdivia 108
A naturalists’ camp in the forest 116
A native hunter with a red howling monkey 116
The porters en route to the Paramillo 124
Cuña Indians at Dabeiba 124
Our camp on the Paramillo 126
Dabeiba on the Rio Sucio 130
The village of Maipures 156
The _Hilo de Oro_ at the end of the voyage 156
A rubber-camp on the Upper Orinoco 170
Unloading for the portage, Raudal del Muerto 172
The Cerro Duida 172
Wismar on the Demerara River 182
Tumatumari on the Potaro River 182
Camp on the Rio Negro in the Gran Chaco of the Paraguay 200
Selling oranges in the market at Asuncion 200
A street in Buenos Aires 204
Porto Gallileo on the Rio Pilcomayo 204
Fort of Coimbra on the Rio Paraguay 206
S. S. _Nyoac_ on the Paraguay River 214
Corumbá 214
Colonel Roosevelt in the Brazilian _chapadão_ 226
A camp in the _chapadão_ 226
The Falls of Salto Bello of the Rio Papagayo 230
Camp on the Rio da Duvida 242
A rubber-camp on the Rio Gy-Paraná 254
A rubber-camp on the Lower Gy-Paraná 254
Country around Arequipa, showing Mount Misti 268
The expedition en route via hand-car, Changollo to Arce 268
An Indian hut in the Yungas of Cochabamba 288
The expedition in the Cuchicancha Pass 292
Vampire-bat from Todos Santos 300
Tamanduá ant-eater 300
Yuracarés chewing yucca-roots for making casire 306
Yuracaré women and children 306
The great _Puya_, a species of pine growing in the Bolivian Andes
at an elevation of 13,000 feet 324
The plaza at Mizque 326
Vermejo on the Santa Cruz trail 338
Quechua habitation on the upland desert 346
Rio Cachimayo at Peras Pampa, Sucre 352
Bridge across the Rio Pilcomayo 352
Quechua Indians wearing the costume used during the reign of the
Incas, five hundred years ago 358
Ploughing at Rosario de Lerma 374
Tilcara, showing the stream and valley and the snow-capped Andes
in the distance 374
The lagoon in the Chaco, Embarcacion 380
Paramo above Tafí 380
The great crested tinamou 402
A burrowing owl 402
Skinning a boa 404
Boa sunning itself at the entrance to a vizcacha burrow 404
Oculto, or _Tucotuco_, a rare rodent with mole-like habits 406
Gray fox, abundant in the semiarid regions 406
Long-tailed vizcacha of the high Andes 410
Short-tailed vizcacha of the Argentine lowlands 410
Rice-fields at the foot of the Andes Mountains, Sarmientos 416
MAPS
Sketch map of the south-central part of the Amazon drainage
system 241
Routes taken by the author in his South American explorations
_At end of the volume_
_PART I_
COLOMBIA
CHAPTER I
BUENAVENTURA TO CALI, AND THE CAUCA VALLEY
The voyage from Panama to Buenaventura, the more northern of Colombia’s
two Pacific seaports, requires but two days’ time. Owing to numerous
reefs and rocks that render navigation perilous along the coast of
northwestern South America, it is necessary for ships to sail far out
into the Pacific. Banks of low-hanging fog, encountered at frequent
intervals, add further to the skipper’s difficulties.
The captain of the _Quito_ followed a simple plan for finding port.
It was his custom to steam in a southerly direction about forty-eight
hours, and then head toward the coast. Once in sight of land, there was
little difficulty in getting his bearings, although it frequently meant
steaming back a distance of ten or fifteen miles.
At noon on the second day out we entered what might be called the belt
of perpetual rain, and for three hours water fell in such torrents
that it seemed a solid wall. When the deluge had ceased and the last
wisps of blue-gray vapor melted into oblivion, the shore-line, dim and
distant, could be discerned. The faint outline of a rugged coast became
gradually sharper; jagged rocks, frowning precipices, and dark, gloomy
forests slowly unfolded themselves to the vision. The magnitude of it
all was most impressive.
Then followed a ten-mile sail through the placid water of Buenaventura
Bay. Numberless brown pelicans fished in the shallows while others, in
long files, alternately sailed and flapped through the air on their way
to some isolated nook among the mangroves. The dark, hazy shore-line at
the head of the bay gradually dissolved itself into lines of graceful
cocoanut-palms and low, thatched huts flanked by a seemingly endless
mantle of green. Huge dugout canoes made from logs of great size
swarmed out from the water’s edge, their dusky paddlers vying with one
another in their efforts to be the first to reach the steamer; then
the men quarrelled violently among themselves, and also shouted to the
persons on the deck, soliciting luggage to take ashore. Before long,
trunks were being lowered into some of these wallowing craft while
passengers embarked in others, and the paddle of a mile to shore began.
Unfortunately the tide was ebbing, leaving extensive mud-flats exposed
along the water-front. As there was no pier it was necessary for the
canoemen to carry on their backs the human freight as well as trunks
and other luggage through a wide belt of mud and sand.
Our party consisted of Doctor Frank M. Chapman, curator of birds, of
the American Museum, Louis Agassiz Fuertes, and myself. At Buenaventura
we were joined by William Richardson, who had spent many years as a
field-naturalist in Central and South American countries. We were
starting on a zoological expedition--a quest for birds and mammals,
and also to study the country, life-zones, problems of distribution
and many other things inseparable from a biological survey such as we
proposed to make. The original plans of the expedition called for a
rather short stay; but for me, at least, the experience was destined
to cover a period of eighteen months and take me to some of the most
remote and wildest portions of the country.
Viewed from the water, Buenaventura appears most unattractive. The row
of squat, makeshift huts, built on tall poles, extends far beyond the
line of high water; as the tide rises the water swishes and gurgles
underneath the houses and the occupants travel about in canoes. Farther
from the shore the ground is high and the town is more interesting,
though not inviting. The place bears an unenviable reputation. On
account of the superabundant rainfall and hot climate, fevers and other
life-sapping diseases are rife and few foreigners can withstand the
ordeal of a lengthy residence there. This notoriety had reached our
ears long before we embarked on the journey; it was, therefore, with a
feeling of relief that we learned of the departure of a train for the
interior early the next morning.
[Illustration: Buenaventura.]
For a distance of twenty-five miles, after leaving Buenaventura,
nothing was visible but swamps filled with mangrove thickets. Then
the foot-hills of the Andes appeared, the steady climb began and the
character of the vegetation changed. Instead of the low, matted growth
of shrubbery, there grew trees and palms of goodly size. Stops for
wood and water were made frequently; the train usually halted near a
collection of native huts, the occupants of which earned their living
chopping wood for the railroad company. Each habitation was surrounded
by a small clearing in which broad-leaved banana, plantain, and papaya
trees grew in wonderful luxuriance. Jungles of tall bamboo bordered the
plantations and grew beside the track. Plantains and bamboo seem to
be the staples of the people. The former they eat, and of the latter
their houses are built. The flimsy structures were ramshackle affairs
with ragged, thatched roofs, and fitted well into their surroundings.
Frequently we had a fleeting view of the almost nude occupants of the
huts, lolling about in the darkened interior.
The first town of any importance was Cisneros. We were delayed an hour
at this station because the train from the opposite direction had
met with an accident that blocked the track, and, as the people were
celebrating one of their numerous _fiestas_, it was impossible to get
men to clear away the wreckage without great loss of time.
The railroad continued up the slope, following the winding canyon of
the Dagua. It has been said that the cost of constructing it was a
million dollars a mile. Tunnels, deep cuts through spurs and ridges,
trestles and high bridges followed one another in quick succession.
The perpendicular sides of the excavations were covered with long moss
and drooping ferns that waved plume-like overhead. Mountain torrents
poured their crystal streams from openings in overgrown crevices and
were dashed to spray on the rocks below. Hundreds of feet lower down,
the Dagua raged within the narrow confines of a rock-bound gorge. Thick
jungles, dark and impenetrable, cover the slopes. We were conscious
of the perfume of flowers concealed amid the forbidding masses of
deepest green. An iguana, fully four feet long and of a bright green
color dashed across the track a few feet ahead of the puffing engine;
a moment later and the beautiful creature would have been crushed to
death. Overhead, flocks of parrots screamed defiance at the lowly,
wheezing thing that laboriously made its way farther and farther into
their time-hallowed abode; and toucans, clattering their long bills
and yelping, performed queer acrobatics in a lofty tree-top. A violent
lunge recalled us to earth; the train had stopped for more fuel so the
passengers got out and amused themselves touching the sensitive-plants
that grew abundantly along the road-bed.
Not long afterward we emerged suddenly into a peculiar region.
There was an abrupt end to the gloomy forest, and in its place grew
straggling clumps of giant cacti. The dividing-line is as sharp as if
cut with a knife. The fauna also is different; instead of brilliantly
hued tanagers, trogons and toucans, there are wrens, finches, and other
birds of sombre color. This desert-like belt continued for a distance
of some miles, and then forest again appeared, on the top only of the
ridges, at first, but gradually extending downward until the slopes
were entirely covered.
Caldas, the terminus of the railroad, was reached at noon and, after a
good deal of bargaining, the proprietor of the Hotel del Valle provided
us with a room containing four bare, wooden beds; but fortunately our
blanket-bags had come with us, so we rather rejoiced that no bedding
was provided by the innkeeper. The buildings comprising the town are
scattered here and there in small groups, making it difficult to get a
comprehensive idea of their number. The first impression suggests that
there is a population of a few hundred only, when it is really several
thousand. At this time (April, 1911) Caldas was an attractive spot,
as its elevation is two thousand feet, and the country immediately
surrounding it is open; but in recent years sufferers from malaria,
yellow fever, and other diseases have gone there from Buenaventura to
recuperate, and have left the several maladies firmly implanted in the
entire region, making it most unhealthful.
A small tent-show was playing at Caldas, and as this was a most unusual
occurrence it created a certain amount of furor among the people. It
rained heavily the greater part of the afternoon, but darkness had
scarcely crept up from the lowland when troops of people, each one
carrying a chair or box to sit on, came tramping from all directions,
their bare feet making swishing and gurgling sounds as they plodded
through mud and water. The elite--even Caldas boasts of a high-class
social set--arrived later and stood during practically the entire
performance in order to be the better seen and admired by the “common”
people.
So far, Richardson had acted as cashier for the party, and it was
rather startling to see entries in his journal such as “lunch, $200.00;
railroad-tickets, $2,000.00; oranges, $15.00.” The Colombian dollar, or
_peso_, had depreciated in value until it was worth exactly one cent in
United States currency. Practically all the money in circulation was in
bills of from one to one hundred pesos, the former predominating. If
one had only a hundred one-peso notes, equalling an American dollar,
they made quite a bulky parcel; for this reason all the men carry large
leather pocketbooks attached to a strap slung across the shoulder, and
quite incidentally these containers also hold cigars, matches, and
various other little articles dear to the hearts of their owners.
Richardson had arranged for _arrieros_ and a caravan of pack-mules to
meet us early the following morning, but it was almost noon when they
appeared. We were in the land of _mañana_, but had not as yet learned
to curb our impatience at the hundred and one exasperating things that
were constantly cropping out to impede our progress or upset our plans.
One of the first things the visitor to Latin-America must learn is to
take things good-naturedly and as easily as possible. If one employs
servants regularly it is possible to correct many of their customs that
are so annoying to the North American; but the countries, as a whole,
cannot be reformed by any one in a single day, and the person who takes
things too seriously either lacks a sense of humor or conveys the
impression that he is very foolish.
Some of the mules were saddled for riding, while others were equipped
with thick pack-saddles made of burlap stuffed with straw. Bags and
trunks were brought out, sorted as to weight, and then loaded on the
pack-mules, being held in place one on either side of the animal with
cowhide thongs. Each mule carried about two hundred and fifty pounds.
While adjusting cargoes, the _arrieros_, or drivers, place their poncho
over the mules’ eyes; otherwise they would not stand for the rather
rough treatment to which they are subjected.
The road was fairly wide and good. It followed along the gorge of the
Dagua, now a small stream. Within a few hours the village of El Carmen
was reached and we dismounted to await the pack-train and incidentally
to have lunch at the posada, and to see a cock-fight, for the fiesta of
yesterday was still in progress in the rural districts.
We climbed slowly and steadily upward. At fifty-five hundred feet the
zone of clouds and vapor appeared; trees, rocks, in fact everything
seemed unreal and ghost-like, enveloped in the thick, blue-gray haze
that penetrated clothing and sent a piercing chill to the very marrow.
Darkness was fast approaching, so we stopped at a wayside hut called
El Tigre for the night. The house was damp and cold, as might have
been expected, and its occupants were practically without food. A
profusion of vegetation grew in the yard; there were roses, geraniums,
hibiscus, and hydrangeas growing everywhere; monstrous ferns with
lace-like leaves formed a thick, velvety background for the brilliant,
many-colored blooms. In the garden, blackberries, strawberries,
cabbages, coffee, and an edible tuber called _aracacha_ grew; there
were also a few stunted banana and plantain stalks, but on account of
the cold climate it requires two years for them to mature, and the
fruit is small and of poor quality.
Thanks to an early start on the following morning, we reached the
summit of the range, or the Cordillera Occidental, as it is better
known, by ten o’clock. The whole slopes are covered with the densest of
subtropical jungles. A steady downpour had fallen the entire morning,
against which _ponchos_ availed little. A halt of two hours was
therefore called at a rather cheerless inn just beyond the pass, named
San Antonio; the _señora_ who conducted the establishment was glad to
see us, for Richardson had apprised her of our coming; she soon had
plantains roasting on the embers, and her shop provided sardines for
lunch.
The descent of the eastern slope now began. The trail narrowed down and
was rough; in places the decline was 45°. On both sides rose the living
walls of impenetrable, gloomy jungle. One thing could not fail to
impress us, and that was the great, breathless silence of the forest.
Where we had expected to find multitudes of gorgeous birds, a babble of
animal voices and brilliant flowers, there was only the sombre, silent
mass of unvaried green. Within two hours we had left the regions of
cold and penetrating mists. For the first time we beheld the beautiful
valley of the Cauca far below, spread before our vision like a velvet
carpet of softest green that reached the very foot-hills of the Central
Range not less than forty miles distant.
The steady, rhythmic skuff of bare or sandal-shod feet, mingled with
the louder tramp of mules and discordant cries of the _arrieros_, now
reached our ears at frequent intervals, to be followed shortly by the
appearance of pack-trains heavily laden with coffee and hides as they
swung around a bend in the narrow mountain trail, and we knew that the
end of our journey, at least for the present, was near.
Downward we rode, always downward, with the valley still several
hundreds of feet below, and the mountains towering thousands of feet in
the rear.
Here and there a bit of humanity flashed into view near one of the
lonely _haciendas_ snugly nestling in some seemingly inaccessible niche
in the mountainside. To our right, a solitary monastery perched upon
a barren peak, with its separate narrow trail leading from the dizzy
height and winding its tortuous course along the jutting precipice
until lost in the filmy haze.
Ahead, a black mass that dissolved itself into one immense flock of
vultures appeared on the landscape. This was their season of harvest
and the quarrelsome scavengers were reluctant to leave their repast--an
unfortunate burro that had been abandoned on the trail.
With a feeling of repugnance, we spurred our horses on to greater
effort, and at last our anticipations were realized as, rounding an
abrupt point, we beheld Cali directly at our feet. A half-hour later we
had clattered through a green arch formed by four magnificent ceibas
that stood like sentinels guarding the approach to the city, crossed
the bridge spanning the Rio Cali, wended our way up the stone-paved
streets, and drawn rein in the _patio_ of the Hotel Central.
Cali is a typical Colombian city. At first the uniformly low,
whitewashed buildings with barred windows, thick adobe walls, and
pretty _patios_, or inner courts, thrust themselves forcibly upon
the attention, on account of the sharp contrast to the style of
architecture to which the American is accustomed; but later one accepts
them as a matter of course quite in harmony with the monotonous and
easy-going life of most Latin-American cities.
There is nothing particularly modern about Cali; but the city is
interesting, perhaps for that very reason. I saw not a single chimney,
nor was there a pane of glass anywhere except in the huge cathedral
facing the verdure-laden plaza. Churches are numerous, of massive
construction, and built in Spanish style. The bells, of which there
are many, are suspended in open niches in the towers, covered with
verdigris, and keep up an almost continuous clanging.
The streets are narrow and crooked. A stream of water flows through the
centre of some of them; this serves both purposes--as a kind of sewage
system and also to supply water for various needs, although there is a
system of piping in some of the houses, and fountains on a few street
corners supply drinking-water to those who care to fetch it. I have
seen, on several occasions, children attempting to bathe in the little
stream; a short distance below, ducks were swimming in the water; then
a person stepping from one of the doorways threw a pailful of garbage
into it; finally, some one stepped out and unconcernedly dipped up a
pitcherful of the water and took it indoors.
It is quite unusual to see any of the women of the upper class on the
streets during the daytime, except on special occasions, or while
they are on their way to and from church. They remain secluded in
their homes, safe from the gaze of vulgar eyes. Embroidering and music
are the chief diversions, and a large number of them are really very
accomplished in both lines. It was remarkable to notice how many pianos
there were, when we consider that each instrument had to be brought
over the Andes slung on poles and carried by mules.
Practically all work is performed by people of the lower class.
They toil day and night and, in most instances, for very little
remuneration. One may see them engaged in various occupations at all
hours of the day; but during the early hours of the morning, long files
wend their way down the streets with the public market-place as the
point of focus. The huge brick structure is a busy place. It reminds
one of an ants’ nest with its incoming and departing swarms. Inside the
building are rows and heaps of fruit, vegetables, meat, bread, and many
other articles. A motley crowd of women fills the place to overflowing;
each carries a basket, or wooden tray, on her head into which the
purchases are placed, when, after an indefinite amount of bargaining
and haggling, they have been consummated. Invariably each receptacle
contains a curious collection; a number of green and ripe plantains; a
slice of pumpkin; a pepper, garlic, and a tomato; a chunk of meat, and
a papaya. Perhaps there may also be a bunch of _yerba buena_ and some
achiote seeds with which to give a spicy flavor and yellow color to the
soup; but these condiments are, unfortunately, used in such quantities
that a goodly supply is usually kept on hand even when there is no
other food in the house.
The nights are delightful in Cali. A refreshing wind springs up soon
after sundown; the military band plays in the plaza, lights twinkle and
the breeze sighs through the royal palms and orange-trees scattering
broadcast snowy petals and heavy perfume. Only the _gente_ are admitted
into this little fairy-land. Gayly dressed and highly-rouged women,
clothed in the extreme of fashion, parade along the winding walks; but
it is considered in bad taste for them to appear without an escort. The
poorer class, ragged and barefooted, gathers outside the iron fence
and peers through the bars; the children run and play noisily on the
neighboring streets. At last the bells in the cathedral boom the hour
of ten; the band plays the national anthem, when every one stands, the
men with uncovered heads. Then the crowd disperses quietly and orderly.
Soon the town is wrapped in slumber with only the sighing wind and
the occasional shrill blasts of police whistles to disturb the drowsy
solitude.
It was said, that Cali had a population of forty thousand, but that
figure doubtless included the populace of the suburban districts for a
considerable distance. The city is bound to grow, however, on account
of its favorable location in the fertile Cauca Valley, which is one of
the garden spots of all South America.
The Cauca River is about four miles distant from the city, and the
settlement of Guanchito is located on the river-bank. A little toy-like
train makes frequent trips back and forth between the two points
because the _puerto_, as Guanchito is commonly called, is of real
importance. Steamers and launches from Cartago take on and discharge
passengers and freight, and many rafts laden with green plantains and
produce arrive daily. The village presents a scene of great activity
during the morning hours; clusters of ragged little booths, like
mushrooms, have sprung up during the hours of darkness where women,
squatting under the shambling shelters, cook _sancocho_ over charcoal
braziers; files of _peons_ hurry back and forth as they transfer the
cargoes from rafts and canoes to the waiting freight-cars; and there
is a great deal of good-natured raillery between the slovenly _mozos_
who liberally patronize the eating and drinking places, and the
stand-keepers who feign an air of coyness withal. Gradually, as the sun
mounts higher the crowds grow thinner. Their morning’s work over, the
people either depart via the waterway they had come, or take the train
back to Cali.
An interesting ferry service is maintained at Guanchito. A stout steel
cable has been strung across the river, and to a pulley running along
it, two chains are fastened, their other ends being tied to either end
of the boat. The latter is a huge, flat-bottomed affair, capable of
holding many people and horses. Before starting across, the up-stream
chain is shortened, so that the side of the boat presents a sharp angle
to the current, and the craft is speedily pushed to the other side of
the river.
Extensive marshes border the Cauca, a short distance above Guanchito.
During the rainy season the water spreads over many miles of land,
and is very deep; but in the dry season it recedes rapidly leaving a
number of shallow and well-defined marshes and ponds. Wildfowl gathers
in great numbers to spend the hottest months in these friendly havens.
There were ducks of a number of species, including tree-ducks that
make a shrill, whistling noise as they speed by and then drop on
the ground near the marsh, to stand motionless and on the alert for
possible danger before plunging into the water. Great gray herons
croaked and waded sedately among the rushes, spearing frogs and fish
as they went along. The horned screamer--a bird the size of a large
turkey--is also an inhabitant of the marshes. It has rather long, but
thick legs, that enable it to wade into fairly deep water, but also
swims to floating islands of succulent water-plants which form a part
of its food. The bird’s color is slaty black, the back being glossy;
the belly is white; a horn, or caruncle, several inches long grows from
the forehead and curves forward. The feathers are soft, and the tissues
for half an inch under the skin are filled with air spaces; the natives
say that this protects the bird from the bites of poisonous snakes,
and it is not impossible that this pneumatic cushion could serve such
a purpose, although it is hardly probable. The most remarkable thing
about the bird, however, is its voice. Usually a pair sing together;
they walk slowly back and forth, throw the head over the back, and
emit powerful hoots, booms, and long-drawn, clear, ringing notes that,
while harmonious and not unmusical, are nevertheless touched with
pathos and conjure in one’s imagination a picture of some trammelled
spirit of the wild yearning for redemption. Numerous small birds,
mainly tyrant-flycatchers inhabit the thorny thickets growing out of
the water, and build their huge grass nests within the safe barrier of
thorn-armed branches.
The surrounding country of the Cauca Valley is fertile and productive
of most of the things essential to the support of a contented and
thriving populace. A great deal of the land is used for grazing cattle
and horses, but it will soon become too valuable to use for this
purpose on account of the limited amount available. A far greater
revenue can be derived through cultivation.
[Illustration: Cattle grazing in the Cauca Valley.]
[Illustration: Port of Guanchito.]
We paid a visit to a large sugar estate called La Manuelita, near
the town of Palmira. La Manuelita is a little world of its own; it
comprises fifteen hundred acres of the most fertile and attractive
part of the valley. The ranch-house, occupying a site in the centre, is
a rambling two-story building of generous proportions and attractive
appearance. The gardens, surrounding it with a riot of color, give
it a quaint, old-fashioned charm; there has been no studied effect,
no precision in the arrangement of plants or flowers; oleanders,
roses, hibiscus, geraniums, and hollyhocks grow in matted profusion.
Clumps of magnolias, chinaberries and oranges conceal the high stone
fence. Immediately without the wall surrounding the house is the
_peon_ village consisting of some fifty-odd houses of uniform size and
appearance, and the sugar-factory. The _peons_ are of Spanish, Indian,
and negro blood, or of a mixture of any two or all three, and require
constant supervision to secure the best results.
All the land is under cultivation, mostly in cane, for the production
of which it is well suited. The soil is a rich alluvial loam. Some of
the cane-fields at La Manuelita had not been replanted in ninety years;
others on the estate of William Barney, former United States consul in
Cali, had been producing one hundred and twenty years, and were still
yielding eighty tons or more of cane to the acre. It was said, and
all indications substantiate the report, that the entire region was
at one time covered by a great lake! This accounts for the continued
productiveness of the soil.
Cane grows to a height of fifteen feet, there being a dozen or more
stalks to each hill. It requires eight to ten months to mature. The
fields are divided into sections and cut at different intervals so as
to provide a succession of ripe cane for the mill, and furnish steady
employment for the several hundred _peons_.
The factory is modern in nearly every respect; its capacity is from
five to eight tons of sugar daily, of good quality. It required a
number of years to bring the heavy machinery over the mountains from
Buenaventura. The more cumbersome pieces were slowly drawn up the steep
slopes with the aid of block and tackle and oxen; the apparatus was so
arranged that the animals could walk down-hill as they pulled, adding
greatly to their efficiency. It is necessary to carry a complete stock
of duplicate machinery to use in case of an accident; otherwise the
factory might have to shut down a year or two while some badly needed
article was being secured from abroad.
Nearly all machinery is ordered from London, as it can be had more
quickly and better packed than from the United States. I heard
this same statement in various parts of South America. Although
manufacturers were beginning to realize that in order to do business
successfully in South America, they must first make a study of general
conditions, they have not done so in the past, with the natural result
that the bulk of Latin-American commerce has been done with the Old
World. It is frequently necessary to ship merchandise on mule-back,
or in small river-craft a distance of many days after its arrival
at a port and before it reaches its destination; it is exposed to
varying weather conditions--great heat and heavy rains; the treatment
it receives is of necessity very rough. All this means that packing
must have been done with great care and in a special manner. The fact
that we have not adopted the metric system, and that there have been
practically no American banks to discount bills, have been further
drawbacks to the establishment of extensive trade relations between the
two peoples.
Perhaps the most attractive thing of all about the Cauca Valley is its
climate. A record of the temperature kept at La Manuelita during a
period of ten years shows the greatest uniformity. The difference in
the average weekly temperature is only 6° the year around.
A belt of tall bamboo entirely surrounds the _hacienda_; the giant
stalks of steel-like toughness are armed with long, murderous thorns
and form an interlocking mass that is absolutely impenetrable to man.
Contrary to our expectations, birds were not plentiful in this land
of tangled verdure. A few nighthawks dozed on the ground in the deep
shade, and an occasional yellow-headed caracara (_Milvago chimachima_)
that, perched on the tip of a swaying stalk, gave vent to its feelings
in a succession of shrill, long-drawn screams.
Farther away, where clumps of woods grew, birds were more plentiful.
There were many red-fronted parrakeets nesting in holes in dead stubs.
Red-headed woodpeckers (_Chrysoptilus p. striatigularis_) in numbers
hammered on hollow trunks; the strokes are so rapid that the sound
resembles the roll of a snare-drum. Pigmy woodpeckers (_Picumnus_) no
larger than a good-sized humming-bird, worked industriously on the
smaller branches. They are obscurely marked mites of feathered energy,
of a dark olive color with a few red dots on top of the blackish head.
When the nesting season arrives a tiny cavity is excavated in some
partially decayed limb in which two round, white eggs are deposited.
These birds are nearly always found in pairs, and when the young leave
the nest they accompany the parents, forming small family parties that
forage for minute insects among the crevices of rough bark and in
decayed wood.
Occasionally it seemed as if we were not so far from our northern
home after all; for along the edges of the numerous marshes ran an
old acquaintance--the spotted sandpiper. In the reeds yellow-headed
blackbirds chirped and fluttered; but they are slightly smaller than
the North American birds and have even been placed in a different genus
(_Agelaius_). By walking quietly it was also possible to surprise
a deer that had been tempted far from cover by the prospects of a
luscious breakfast in some little plantation. These animals are so
greatly persecuted that they make off at the first sign of danger.