IN QUEST OF THE COCK-OF-THE-ROCK
On my fourth visit to Popayán we had to remain in the city the greater
part of a week, arranging for the continuation of our journey across
the Central Andes to the headwaters of the Magdalena. Hereafter we
were to travel on foot, partly due to the fact that some of the trails
were impassable, both to riding and pack animals, and partly to enable
us to be in a position better to study the wild life of the region we
traversed. I was accompanied on this particular expedition by Doctor
Allen and Mr. J. T. Lloyd, of Cornell University.
On February 27 we left Popayán on foot, the mule-train following some
little distance behind. The route lay through undulating country,
rather well cultivated, where there were numerous huts at which we
found shelter for the nights. At one of these stopping-places the
natives were engaged in thrashing beans. The pods had been heaped upon
a straw mat and the family were beating them with heavy flails. Wheat
was thrashed in the same manner, but after the grains had been beaten
loose from the chaff large pans full were held high above the head and
poured out in a thin, steady stream; the wind blew the chaff from the
falling column and the wheat dropped upon the mat. At another hut men
were manufacturing “cabulla” by stripping off, between two sticks,
the fleshy part of the leaves of the yucca-plant. The tough fibres
remaining were mixed with horsehair and braided into strong ropes. Food
was scarce, the natives subsisting upon the inevitable “sancocho” of
boiled green plantains, and cornmeal “jarepas.” However, we managed
occasionally to pick up a fowl, some green corn, and once, we succeeded
in purchasing a live sheep; this, in addition to the provisions we
carried, enabled us to fare passably well.
On March 7 we had reached the top of a ridge ten thousand three hundred
and fifty feet high, having passed the little villages Timbio, San
Miguel, Santa Barbara, and La Vega. La Vega means “fertile plain,” and
the surrounding country fully justifies the name. Far as the eye could
see the gently sloping mountainsides had been divided into a network
of small, irregular plots by rows of high, thick hedges. Wheat, corn,
cabbage, and rice flourished under the cultivating hand of the Indian;
there were also small flocks of sheep, and occasionally a few head
of cattle. Small mud-walled huts, singly and in clusters, dotted the
maze of green landscape, and over all breathed an air of quiet and
contentment.
The trail had gradually led upward, though often descending into
gorges and ravines a thousand feet deep. We had passed through patches
of barren country, and then entered a wilderness of lovely flowering
rhododendrons. The masses of red wild oleanders were beautiful, but the
lanes of a species of shrub covered with small waxen blossoms of purest
white, mingled with deep-green foliage and the fronds of monstrous
subtropical ferns, surpassed any picture that pen can describe or the
imagination conjure. From afar we could hear the steady buzz of bees
and other insects that swarmed about the flowers, and frequently a
humming-bird whirred into the arena, hovered a few moments, and then
sped away; myriads of nocturnal insects appeared at night, and great
sphinx-moths took the place of the hummers.
The top of the ridge is covered with tall, magnificent forest. We saw
numerous signs of bird and animal life. Toucans of several species
yelped and clattered their bills in the tall trees above. There were
also yellow-shouldered troupials, blue and yellow cotingas, brown
creepers, bright-colored hummers, and many dragon-flies. The latter
possessed a special interest for Lloyd, who immediately erected
breeding-cages and began to study their life history. The larva of the
dragon-fly resembles a good-size black beetle and lives in water. It is
the possessor of a voracious appetite, feeding upon aquatic insects,
the larvæ of mosquitoes, and even upon members of its own kind. Finally
it rises to the top, hatches, and continues the cycle of its existence
as an aerialist, the terror of the winged insects upon which it preys.
Penelopes, small turkey-like birds, were abundant, and proved to be
excellent eating. One day we succeeded in taking two specimens of a
rare, beautiful tanager (_Serricossypha albocristata_) that lived in
small flocks in the tall tree-tops. It was as large as a robin, of
a velvety blue-black color, with a white crown and breast of deep
scarlet. With such a display of lovely colors one might expect harmony
in song; but apparently the vocal ability of the gorgeous creature was
limited to a few shrill “peeps” like those of a strayed pullet. Deer
also were abundant, and one day we caught a fine cat of the ocelot
family.
We pitched camp in the heart of the forest. The vegetation was really
wonderful. In spots the lower growth consisted entirely of climbing
bamboo, so dense as to be impenetrable; the moss carpeting the ground
was often knee-deep, and the trees seemed to be breaking under the
weight of the creepers, orchids, mosses, and lilies that burdened every
trunk and branch. It rained a good deal, and when the downpour stopped
there was always the drip, drip of water that had been absorbed by the
spongy masses overhead.
[Illustration: Threshing wheat.]
[Illustration: Indian hut in the Valle de las Papas.]
The forest zone extends along the top of the ridge for three or four
miles and down about one thousand five hundred feet on the other side,
but the slope immediately below this line is either bush-covered or
cultivated, and bears every evidence of having been cleared. Fifteen
hundred feet lower down we came upon the little settlement Almaguer,
which boasts about one hundred adobe houses and two severely plain
little churches, but all are whitewashed and present a clean
appearance. The main industry is the making of Panama hats of a rather
coarse kind. Many Indians visit the town on market-days, bringing coca
leaves, lime, and _sera_, a kind of vegetable wax, obtained from a
berry that grows in the mountains and used for making candles. Pigeons
are very fond of the berry, and as they ripen the great band-tailed
species congregate in flocks to feed upon them, becoming so fat that
they finally pay with their lives for the short season of feasting.
The candles made of _sera_ are green, but burn well and are generally
better than the ordinary tallow dip. The lime, or “mambe,” is used for
chewing with the coca leaves, which is a confirmed habit in this part
of the country.
As elsewhere, the weekly market at Almaguer is a day of great activity
and is looked upon almost in the light of a fiesta. Early in the
morning, usually at four o’clock, a cow is killed in the plaza and all
the inhabitants gather around to watch the skinning of the carcass.
At eight o’clock the plaza is filled with tradespeople, usually
women, squatting on the ground with their wares spread before them
in wooden trays, bags, or baskets. All that these simple people deem
necessary to existence, and even some luxuries, may be had. There are
rows of venders of bread, cakes, and dulces; others with vegetables,
rice, coffee, corn, and cheese; occasionally peaches, apples of an
inferior quality, oranges, and a few plantains are brought up from some
sheltered valley; but the greatest space is always taken up by the coca
merchants, who unquestionably do the most thriving business, as every
one takes advantage of market-day to have their “mambero” replenished.
Sometimes a buyer of hats visits the market. On such occasions the day
is ushered in with an unearthly hammering noise that proceeds from all
the houses, and investigation will disclose the women industriously
pounding the Panamas into shape on a wooden block. Later they carry
them to market on their heads, where the buyer, after a casual
examination, makes an offer which varies from forty cents to a few
dollars, according to the texture of the hat.
At night the temperature falls rapidly as the cold winds sweep down
from the mountains and howl through the streets. We have every reason
to remember our night’s experience in Almaguer. The pack-animals had
failed to catch up and we carried nothing with us, so we spent the
long, cheerless hours until sunrise shivering in our bare, dusty room
in the _posada_.
The first night from Almaguer was passed at an old mill on the banks
of the Caquiona, built by monks many years ago. They had thoughtfully
provided a large room to house the Indians who formerly came to have
their wheat and corn ground, even to the extent of providing rough
bunks; and just outside stood a massive stocks, doubtless also provided
for the use of the Indians, but it must have detracted somewhat from
the effect of the hospitality extended by the good monks. There
was plenty of tender, luscious grass for the mules. Near the river
large numbers of butterflies settled on the moist sand to drink; the
boulders on the bottom of the clear, cold stream had many houses of the
caddis-fly cemented to them--little pebbly mummy-cases in which the
owner lay snugly ensconced in the silky lining and quickly repaired the
break if we opened them. The next day we passed San Sebastian, the last
settlement, and climbed steadily higher toward the cold, bleak paramo
that marks the dividing-line between the Cauca and the Magdalena.
After four days we reached the marvellous Valle de las Papas, just
below the mist-enshrouded paramo, and took refuge in the pretentious
house of old Pedro, a full-blooded Andaquia, while preparing for our
final dash across the great barrier.
The Valle de las Papas is a great level stretch of marshy land covered
with a growth of tall grass and small clumps of forest, between ten
thousand and eleven thousand feet up. The tops of the ridges hem it in
on all sides and somewhat protect it from the icy winds. It is said
that the ancient Indians cultivated the potato in this valley; hence
its name--“The Valley of Potatoes.” An elaborate network of canals or
drains runs through the valley, but the climate and soil are such that
I doubt if cultivation could be carried on to any great extent. Often,
for many days at a time, rain and hail fall steadily and the mist is
so thick that one cannot venture far on the treacherous boggy soil.
Yet, strange to say, cattle thrive wonderfully on the high plateau, and
their rearing is the occupation followed by the few Indian families
who live on these heights. Beautiful orchids abound in the trees,
especially in the forest that reaches up to the valley; we saw many of
yellow, purple, and snowy-white. Some of the trees are of the evergreen
family, including a kind of holly. There were many indications of
deer and tapirs, although we shot none. Large snipe and ant-thrushes
were plentiful, and on the streams we saw a number of peculiar little
torrent-ducks, or merganettas; large white gulls, which the Indians say
are old birds that come up from the sea to die, soared high overhead.
At one end of the valley lies a small lake, of which we had an
occasional short view when the clouds drifted up the slopes. All about
grew clumps of frailejones. Two streams leave the grassy borders of the
lake, mere rivulets ten or twelve feet wide, through which we waded
daily; one flows down the extreme eastern slope and develops into the
mighty Caquetá that helps to swell the yellow flood of the Amazon; the
other breaks through the ridges to the northeast, and dashing down the
mountains in a series of rapids and cascades forms the Magdalena, which
empties into the Caribbean many hundreds of miles away.
Allen was suffering considerably from the fever contracted in the
Chocó four months before. Instead of being benefited by the high, cold
climate as we had hoped, his condition grew steadily worse, so we found
it necessary to continue our journey sooner than we had anticipated.
I hastened back to San Sebastian to engage Indian porters, as mules
are unable to carry packs beyond this point, and was assisted in
my mission by the schoolmaster, who took a sympathetic interest in
our undertaking. He was a pathetic example of a man who might have
accomplished great deeds had the opportunity presented itself. One of
his most highly cherished possessions was an old magazine containing
illustrations of an aeroplane and an article on wireless telegraphy.
With a great deal of difficulty I succeeded in arranging with a dozen
Indians to carry our luggage across the cordillera the following week.
They were of splendid physique and as fine a looking lot as I had ever
seen. The price agreed upon was about seventy-five cents per _arroba_
of twenty-five pounds, each man carrying from two to four _arrobas_.
The journey would require five days, and each man was to carry his
own food for the trip in addition to the pack. The charge was high,
judged by local standards, but on account of the rainy season the
trail was all but impassable; also, it was the _Semana Santa_, one
of the greatest fiestas of the year, when all good Indians should
roam the streets, dulling their senses with an excessive use of coca
leaves and _guarapo_, and fighting, while the women spent the greater
part of the days in church acquiring grace for themselves and their
delinquent husbands. A small advance was made to each man to enable him
to purchase a supply of ground corn, cane-sugar, and coca. Acceptance
of this advance is considered equal to signing a contract, and they
rarely, if ever, go back on the deal.
On Wednesday, April 3, the day set for our departure, the men appeared,
each provided with a board and strong cords. The packs, consisting of
boxes, steamer trunks, and bags, were tied to the boards which fitted
the men’s backs; a broad band was passed over the forehead and two
bands across the chest. Each man carried in his hand a forked stick,
or “mula,” as a means of aiding him in going up and down the slippery
inclines and in walking the logs that crossed the streams.
After a short, steep climb we were out on the bleak paramo, in the
midst of the rain, hail, and mist. The wind blew a gale and the
cold was intense. Through an occasional break in the banks of fog
we had glimpses of the valley on each side filled with dense clumps
of frailejones. We continued on in the face of the blinding storm
for several hours, but with the coming of darkness the trail left
the wind-swept zone and started downward, winding along the canyon
of the Magdalena; in the failing light the scenery was bewitchingly
beautiful. High, rugged peaks, sheer cliffs, and black masses of
forest towered above the sparkling stream that bounded from rock to
rock in a succession of falls. Allen and Lloyd had gone on ahead, and
after dark I came upon them camped in a unique spot. They had thrown
their blankets on a ledge in the face of a cliff that towered several
hundred feet above them. A tiny waterfall dashed over the edge of the
precipice, cleared the ledge, and joined the greater torrent below.
The regular night’s stopping-place is known as Santa Marta, which the
Indians reached at nine that night.
Immediately after arriving at the camping site the porters boiled
corn-meal, which they ate with brown sugar. Each man had brought a
sheepskin to use as a bed, and these were dried beside the fire while
their food was cooking. Before starting in the morning they had another
meal of mush and sugar. During the gruelling day their mouths were kept
well filled with coca and lime, and the apparent amount of sustenance
and endurance derived from the herb is extraordinary; nor does it seem
to have any bad aftereffect, though in Almaguer I saw a number of shaky
old women with bloodshot eyes and blackened lips and teeth, said to be
due to the result of excessive indulgence in coca.
The second night we failed to catch up with the men who had gone on
ahead. We had waded streams and knee-deep mud the greater part of the
day as the result of the steady downpour which rendered the trail
indescribably bad; everything was drenched and it required more than
an hour of hard work to start a small fire. However, the day dawned
bright and sunny, and we lingered to watch the tribes of feathered folk
that began feeding and chattering in the tree-tops. The ripening fruits
had attracted great black guans, trogons with rose-colored breasts and
metallic green backs, and wonderful curve-billed hummers with long
white tails. Along a stretch of bamboo we saw scores of large, pearly
butterflies flapping about lazily, the iridescence of their wings
flashing like bits of rainbow in the sunlight; but not a glimpse did we
have of the main object of our long wanderings--the rare and elusive
cock-of-the-rock.
In the afternoon the rain again fell in unrelenting torrents, and we
camped beneath a wall of rock hundreds of feet high, which the Indians
called the Peña Seca, or dry stone. Great vines with bunches of scarlet
flowers drooped a hundred feet below the top, like gigantic serpents,
but not a drop of all the downpour reached us. The base of the cliff
was blackened from the numerous camp-fires kindled by Indians on their
way to Tolima in quest of salt. By way of divertisement our Indians
gathered incense, which is a kind of gum that collects on certain
trees, and which they intended to take home with them for use in the
_santa iglesia_. I watched the social bees that live in company with
termites building tubular entrances that may extend out eighteen
inches or more like a coiled pipe-stem to their apartment in the nest;
apparently the two different inmates of the common domicile never clash.
The third night we reached the hut of an old Indian who called himself
Domingo, and who was as surly a creature as ever walked the earth. As
he refused us the hospitality of his hut, we camped outside his gate.
We now occasionally passed through a cleared spot where grain and
vegetables grew; cattle grazed on the long, tender grass, and
dark-brown, wild-eyed children peered at us from under the fringed,
low grass roofs of shambling Indian huts. On the top of every knoll
was a row of tall wooden crosses, some newly erected, others decaying
and ready to topple over; it is the custom of the natives to erect a
new one each year on Good Friday, permitting the old ones to remain
standing. We had reached the frontier of Huila.
On Easter Sunday we had our first glimpse of San Agustin, which was
decidedly disappointing. All that we could see as we descended the last
steep slope was a cluster of some fifty-odd mud huts protruding from
the centre of a wide, barren plain; there is no forest within a mile
in any direction, and very little cultivation is carried on in the
immediate vicinity. The town is very old; the inhabitants are mainly
of Spanish descent, but scattered throughout the surrounding country
can be found small clearings, or _fincas_, cultivated by full-blooded
Indians. These latter are of a reticent though friendly disposition,
emerging from the seclusion of their forest-bound homes only on
market-days to dispose of the products of the soil and of their flocks.
In recent years the name San Agustin has come into prominence on
account of the prehistoric ruins and monoliths that are found in its
vicinity, and which are supposed to be of very great antiquity, dating
back to a culture that has entirely disappeared and of which nothing
definite is known. Even the Indians who to-day inhabit the region have
no traditions or folk-lore of the vanished race, and scientists who
have examined the ruins have, up to the present time, been unable to
account for their origin. It has been suggested that they may represent
the work of the tribe of Andaquias, but this statement is disputed by
Carlos Cuervo Marquez, who points out that the mute reminders of an
ancient civilization already existed in the same unknown condition at
the time the Conquistadores overran the empire of the Chibchas.
The thing that first attracted our attention was the row of twelve
stone images that stand in the centre of the plaza facing the village
chapel, which vary in height from two to eight feet and are carved from
sandstone and granite. Gigantic heads, with round faces and staring,
expressionless eyes, are set upon short, square bodies. Some are
crowned with hats or head-coverings that range in pattern from the
Turkish fez and sugar-loaf to curious curved caps that may have been
intended to simulate the rainbow. Many of the figures are quite naked,
while others are clothed in a narrow band, or loin-cloth. The teeth
of many of the human beings represented are prominent, and each has
two pair of great pointed canines like those of a beast. This row of
images was placed in its present location by order of the priest who
had charge of the parish; we may imagine at what cost of labor when we
realize that many of the stones weigh several tons. Of course, there
are no trails, and the only way was to drag them out of the forest with
ropes.
One of the monoliths represents a woman with a small child in one arm
and a club in the other hand raised in an attitude of defense; on one
is carved a woman meshing a _muchila_, and on another a man is holding
a fish. There is the hewn figure of a large monkey crouching over a
smaller one, and some distance away stands an owl holding a snake in
its beak. A flat slab in a recumbent position bears the engraved figure
of a woman and possibly served as the covering of a coffin or a grave.
Then there is the statue of a woman with a mallet in one hand and a
chisel in the other, thought to represent the goddess of sculpture. It
seems not improbable that the greater number of the images represent
idols which were worshipped by the ancient people.
[Illustration: The village of Santa Barbara.]
[Illustration: A corner of San Augustin.]
The most interesting examples are to be found in the forest above San
Agustin. Under the giant cedars and tall cecropias that cover the
slopes one finds works of a more pretentious nature, scattered among
the dense low palm growths and covered with creepers and epiphytes.
There a huge stone tablet may be seen, supported on four richly
carved stone columns six feet high, which probably served as an altar
for the offer of sacrifice; or it may have been the entrance to a
temple. Near-by is an underground gallery leading to two large caves
in which are carvings of the sun and moon with rays darting in all
directions. There are many other statues within a radius of several
miles, and doubtless a systematic search of the region would reveal
rich archæological treasure-troves. Numerous mounds and caverns furnish
abundant evidence of the existence of ruined temples and the remnants
of works of art that have yielded to decadence with the passing of
the centuries. Most of the known statues have been undermined by
fortune-hunters and have toppled over; others have been broken by the
excavators in their mad search for the small gold replicas or ornaments
that are found in the graves, while several have been demolished by
order of the clergy. The only thing that prevents the removal of the
stones themselves is their great weight and lack of transportation
facilities.
The ruins about San Agustin possess none of the ornate massiveness of
those found in Guatemala and Yucatan, but rather has the work been
executed along severe lines and in bas-relief; nor are they nearly so
well preserved, which might tend to show that they date back to an
earlier period. Hieroglyphics are almost wholly wanting. Doctor Karl
Theodor Stoepel, who spent some time in San Agustin previous to our
visit, has traced a similarity between one of the monoliths and an
example found in Pachacama, Bolivia. In one or two instances the work
resembles that of the Aztecs.
Just how to account for the advance of civilization to a point
where art and architecture were encouraged, and which supported a
well-organized form of government, and then to explain its complete
extinction, is a question on which students of the subject are
at variance. Religion in some form or other has always wielded a
powerful influence upon the life and customs of primitive nations; one
evidence--almost invariably the deities and the temples erected for
their veneration represent the supreme efforts of the ancient artists
and alone have withstood the weathering of ages. This points strongly
to the supremacy of a sacerdotal order; but whether the reigning
classes who withheld their knowledge from the common people for selfish
purposes were annihilated by an uprising of the servile hordes or
by an outside invasion, or whether some great cataclysm of nature
extinguished the progress of ages at a stroke, may forever remain a
secret.
The bird life around San Agustin was varied and abundant. Trees were in
blossom, especially one with a feathery, pinkish flower (_Mimosa_), and
to this scores of hummers came. One species had a slightly curved bill
and was green in color, with a patch of deepest purple on the throat;
another of a blue color had tail-feathers six inches long. In the
ravines there were many chachalacas that kept up a demoniacal cackling.
The bushes were full of finches and lovely velvety red tanagers,
while honey-creepers came to our table daily and gorged themselves on
sugar. In the forest we saw many large, woolly monkeys, some bluish,
others silvery gray. There were kinkajous, agoutis, and peccaries.
The two-toed sloth was abundant; the flesh of all these animals was
greedily eaten by the natives. Numbers of large lizards or iguanas
prowled about the town and feasted on the tiny chickens and ducklings.
A flight of locusts covered the entire upper Magdalena, and for days
the air was black with the pest; millions would rise from the ground in
a steady cloud in front of us as we walked along through the fields. In
a few days not a speck of green remained. The hungry, insatiable hordes
moved on, but behind them remained a wide, brown desert, filled with
sorrow and desolation, for the crops of corn, yuccas, and bananas had
been destroyed and there would be famine for many months to come.
[Illustration: A mountain stream, such as the Rio Naranjos, where the
cock-of-the-rock spends its existence.]
We scouted the forests daily, confining our search to the untrodden
ravines of the Rio Naranjos, a turbulent, wicked stream that joins the
Magdalena a short distance below. Great precipices flank its sides and
the water rushes through dark, narrow gorges. Everywhere the river-bed
is dotted with great boulders against which the water dashes with
a force that sends clouds of spray into the air. The slopes of the
mountains and ravines are covered with a dense palm jungle, the trees
laden with bunches of purple berries. It is in places such as these
that the cock-of-the-rock spends its existence. After several weeks of
the most strenuous work our efforts were rewarded: we came suddenly
upon a flock of male birds in the top of a palm, the bright scarlet
color of the wonderful creatures flaming among the deep-green fronds
in a dazzling manner as they flitted about, and with outstretched
necks and raucous “_eur-rr-ks_” surveyed the disturbers of their
time-honored solitude. We were the first human beings to penetrate
their jungle fastness and excited curiosity rather than fear. The mere
sight of these beautiful birds in their wild surroundings was worth
all the discomforts of the long journey. In size they are no larger
than domestic pigeons, but the color is of a most intense and brilliant
scarlet, with wings and tail of black; the upper wing-coverts are of a
light shade of gray, and the eyes and feet are golden yellow; a flat
crest an inch and a half high completely covers the head and hides the
yellow bill. The female is of a dull shade of brown.
We wanted to find their nests and to study their home life, of which
little was known; also to secure material for the museum group. With
the aid of Indians, and ropes made of creepers, we began to explore the
face of the cliffs, some of which were a hundred feet high. On many
of the steep slopes the palms grew so close together that we utilized
them as ladders. As it rained nearly every day the footholds were very
slippery, and many times one or another of the party fell, being saved
from being dashed on the rocks far below only by the rope that bound us
together.
One day, as we crept along slowly and painfully, we flushed a bird of
sombre brown from a great boulder that rose from the centre of the
stream. We waited breathlessly while she fluttered about in the palms
and then returned to the rock. She flew many times back and forth,
carrying food in her bill, and at last I discerned a dark object
against the face of the rock upon which the bird centred her attention.
There was no longer cause for concealment, so we moved to the edge of
the torrent and saw the grass and mud nest plastered against the face
of the rock; below raged a whirlpool, and on each side there was a
waterfall. A more inaccessible spot could not have been chosen by the
bird, whose haunts had never been violated.
After a consultation the Indians decided to build a raft, and
accordingly cut down trees and lashed the trunks together, but no
sooner had the craft been launched than it was caught by the raging
swirl and spun about until the creepers parted and we found ourselves
struggling in the whirlpool. A great liana which had been securely tied
to the raft and fastened on the bank swept past, and this proved to be
our salvation.
A tall tree was now felled, and its course so directed that the top
should fall across the inaccessible rock island, but it fell several
yards short and again we were outwitted.
The sun was now directly overhead, and the fierce rays entered the
narrow confines of the canyon so that it was stiflingly hot. Angry
peals of thunder warned us of the approaching storm, and red howling
monkeys, disturbed from their midday rest, roared dismally. Above, the
river flowed like a greenish stream of molten glass; below, it dashed
through the gorge with a dull roar, and to the towering boulder in
the centre clung a treasure, to possess which men had risked their
lives; but on the very verge of success we seemed likely to fail. Even
the Indians, pioneers of the jungle, shook their heads doubtfully and
wanted to return.
We tried the only remaining resource. With poles and lines two of the
Indians and myself picked our way to a number of small rocks that
jutted out of the angry flood at the very mouth of the gorge. The other
Indian spliced together joints of slender bamboo and climbed out into
the branch of the fallen tree which had lodged against some rocks. From
this precarious position he made repeated thrusts at the nest; finally
it fell and began its maddening career in the whirlpool. Around it
went, many times, and then shot straight for the gorge, swerving toward
the rock on which Juan stood. As we shouted encouragement Juan dived.
In spite of the fact that he was a powerful swimmer we doubted if we
should ever see him again, but after what seemed minutes he reappeared,
battling furiously with the flood that sought to sweep him into the
maelstrom. We threw him a line and dragged him ashore. In his mouth he
held the precious nest, a young bird, drowned, still clinging to the
grass lining.
Later, and under circumstances hardly less thrilling, we found other
birds and nests with both eggs and young, but we took only those that
were absolutely necessary. The others, and there were many, we left to
the eternal mystery of the wilderness, to dance in the shadows and to
woo their mates beside the rushing waters; to rear their young and to
lead the life that was intended for them from the beginning.