FIRST WEEKS WITH THE ROOSEVELT SOUTH AMERICAN EXPEDITION
The S. S. _Van Dyck_ of the Lamport and Holt Line, with Colonel
Roosevelt and his party on board, arrived at Barbados on the morning of
October 10, and late that afternoon pointed her nose southward toward
Bahia. The plans of the expedition, with which I was immediately made
acquainted, called for a rather short and not too difficult trip up the
Paraguay River and down the Tapajos, having for its prime object the
study of the fauna and collection of zoological specimens in the region
traversed; but all this was changed within a very few days as we shall
subsequently learn. Besides Colonel Roosevelt, the expedition consisted
of Geo. K. Cherrie, Anthony Fiala, Jacob Sigg, Father Zahm, and myself.
Bahia was reached on the 18th; Kermit Roosevelt joined the expedition
at this place. The _Van Dyck_ remained at anchor the entire day, thus
allowing sufficient time for a casual inspection of the city. Two
days after, we arrived in Rio de Janeiro. The paucity of the English
language does not permit of an adequate description of the natural
beauties of the harbor and the city. All steamers entering the bay
must sail through the narrow passage between the famous _Pão de
Azucar_ and the mainland on the opposite side. The great loaf-shaped
rock rises to a height of twelve hundred feet above the water; if one
craves excitement, it is possible to ascend to the top in a small car
travelling on steel cables.
In few cities is there such a display of great wealth. The main street,
the Avenida Central, is wide and beautiful, and the sidewalks are of
coarse mosaic. There are numerous palatial buildings, though some of
them are too ornate to appeal to North American taste, and gold-leaf
and carved marble have been used lavishly in their decoration. The
public squares, filled with the finest of tropical trees and plants,
give a park-like appearance to at least parts of the city.
Of interest to the tourist, perhaps, are the numerous curio-shops
filled with a varied assortment of almost everything ranging from
minute, brilliantly hued beetles, to feather flowers and the skins of
anacondas. Brazil is of course popularly believed to be the land of
huge snakes; one dealer calmly told us that he frequently had skins
forty _metres_ long, but the longest he happened to possess measured
less than twenty feet in length. The number of stories in common
circulation concerning serpents of monstrous proportions in South
American countries, is astonishing; and it was interesting to note that
the farther south we went, the longer the reptiles grew.
Thus, in Barranquilla, near the Caribbean coast of Colombia, I was told
that specimens thirty feet long were to be had frequently; this did not
seem quite probable. In Venezuela thirty-five feet was not considered
unusual, and I was sorry that none were to be obtained during my visit.
In British Guiana, snakes forty feet long were said to be fairly
common, although I could find no one who had actually seen one of that
size. The climax was reached in Rio de Janeiro, when a curio-dealer
told about the forty-metre snakes. I frankly expressed my doubts, and
he proceeded to tell of how a man standing beside a snake of this size,
that was coiled up, could not look over the top of it--it was such a
great heap.
It must be admitted that Brazil with its great Amazon basin
produces many strange and unusual creatures; but when it comes to
one-hundred-foot snakes, it can only be said that there is absolutely
no proof of their existence. No dealer I ever visited, and there were
many, could ever produce a skin over twenty feet long.
The traveller into the interior hears many stories of great serpents
and their doings; for instance, the story of the horned snake is famous
all over South America, and while the details may vary, the main
features are always the same. It is the tale of a person (usually the
one telling the story) who came suddenly upon an enormous snake with
a long horn on either side of the head. Of course, the reptile was
immediately killed, sometimes with a rifle or revolver, or occasionally
with a knife, after a desperate struggle. As the slain monster writhed
its last, the heroic hunter made a startling discovery; the snake did
not actually have horns; it had merely swallowed an ox, which feat it
performed without difficulty until the head was reached; this refused
to go down on account of the spreading horns lodging crosswise in the
corners of the snake’s mouth. Hence the old, old story of the horned
snake.
Another favorite anecdote which I have heard repeated a number of
times is that of the man who with his wagon, to which two oxen were
hitched, attempted to ford a stream; suddenly an anaconda of enormous
size emerged from the water and, enveloping both animals in its coils,
crushed them to death. I never encouraged those telling this story
to continue, because I was afraid that they might say the snake had
swallowed both oxen and perhaps even the wagon at the same time!
Not many years ago a South American explorer brought back photographs
of the “trail” made by a huge snake in crawling along the sand. It
would be easy to manufacture such a trail by dragging a bag full of
sand along the ground, and while it is impossible to say that this was
really done, such a photograph would be of no value, anyway, as it
would be impossible to determine the size of the reptile from such a
picture.
In this way the evidence of the existence of gigantic snakes gradually
dwindles away, and we are compelled to look for material on which we
can lay our hands, whereon to base our knowledge. That is, the stories
of the average traveller and native as well must not be taken too
seriously; and only the skins or living specimens known to exist can be
taken into consideration.
The longest South American snake of which I could obtain any definite
information is in a Brazilian museum, and was said to be about
twenty-five feet long. A skin of this size may be stretched several
feet during preparation, so the snake may have been somewhat shorter
in life. In the Bronx Zoological Gardens, New York, there is a living
anaconda fourteen feet long; the largest boa-constrictor is eleven feet
in length.
No visit to Rio de Janeiro is complete without an inspection of the
botanical gardens, which cannot fail to appeal to all lovers of the
beautiful. Immediately upon entering, one is confronted by avenues of
stately royal palms, ninety to one hundred feet high. The “mother of
the palms,” towering above all the others, is pointed out with pride
by the gardeners. It is said that this was the first of the species
to be planted, and that all of the others were grown from seed taken
from this one plant. There are also attractive little lagoons filled
with flowering pond-lilies and fishes, and bordered with graceful
travellers’ palms introduced from Madagascar. Rows of bamboo form
sheltered lanes where the visitor may seek relief on comfortable
benches from the midday sun.
The palace Guanabara, dating back to the time of Dom Pedro, was
opened for the use of Colonel Roosevelt. Its location is in the most
attractive spot imaginable. Sitting at the table in the immense
dining-room, one may look down a palm-lined avenue to the blue water
of the bay, a half-mile distant; it was through this lane of tall,
beautiful trees that Isabella, daughter of the King, drove to her daily
bath in the surf.
Acting upon the invitation of officials of the Brazilian Government,
Colonel Roosevelt abandoned the plans he had made previously and
changed the character of the expedition from a zoological to a
geographical one. Colonel Rondon, who had been engaged some years
in making a survey through Matto Grosso for a telegraph-line, had
discovered the headwaters of an unmapped river. This he had called the
_Rio da Duvida_, or River of Doubt, for no one knew whither it went.
The invitation to explore and map this stream was tendered to Colonel
Roosevelt, and he accepted it.
We left the colonel at Rio de Janeiro, after making arrangements to
meet subsequently, and continued on to Buenos Aires, spending a day _en
route_ in Santos, and one in Montevideo, the capital of Uruguay.
Although we had read and heard a great deal about the city of Buenos
Aires, we were hardly prepared for the pleasant surprise that
awaited us. The population of this metropolis of the south is more
than a million and a half, and the city presents a clean, dignified
appearance. In many respects it is as modern as New York City. There
are numbers of tall edifices patterned after our own skyscrapers,
large hotels, and theatres. An electric subway was just being opened,
and the crowds in the Calle Florida in the late afternoon rival those
of Broadway. The climate is cool and agreeable. One of the things
that particularly attracted our attention was the presence one day of
swarms of dragon-flies flying in a steady stream high above the city;
they were blown in by violent winds, or pamperos, which sweep across
the level plains country, and gave one the impression of a raging
snow-storm.
As Mr. Cherrie and I were eager to devote every available moment to
zoological work, we left Fiala and Sigg, whose duty it was to look
after the rather appalling amount of luggage, and secured passage
on the Argentine Northwestern Railroad, which had just inaugurated
through service to Asuncion, Paraguay. We took only the small amount
of equipment necessary for few weeks’ work, as the two others were
to come up with the remainder of the baggage on the first available
freight-boat. Our train was the second to make the through trip and
was scheduled to run biweekly. It was composed of seven Pullmans,
two baggage, and a dining car; the service was good. Leaving Buenos
Aires on the afternoon of Sunday, November 2, we reached Rosario at
dark. Here the train was run onto a steel boat and carried up-river a
distance of sixty miles, after which it continued the journey on the
east bank of the Paraná. The next night we recrossed the river on a
ferry, and were landed at Encarnacion, Paraguay. Asuncion was reached
late on the afternoon of Tuesday.
The railway journey had been through level plains, interspersed at
long intervals with small clumps and strips of low woods; but it
is essentially a grazing country and we passed numerous herds of
cattle feeding on the vast, fence-enclosed ranges. Stalking about
unconcernedly among the herds were small bands of semi-domesticated
rheas, but they were not abundant; I doubt if we saw a hundred during
the entire trip. Caracaras, or carrion-hawks, glossy ibises, our old
friends the jacanas, which resembled huge grasshoppers when on the
wing, rails, and spur-wing plovers, or lapwings, were plentiful.
Frequently we saw the domed mud-nests of oven-birds perched upon fence
or telegraph-poles, or on the lower branches of trees. Villages are
few and far between, and the natives, a motley crowd of dark-skinned
individuals, usually left their shambling, grass-thatched huts and came
down _en masse_ to see the train.
Asuncion is a quaint old town, plainly showing the marks of violence
that have been left by frequent revolutions. Mr. Ferris, the American
consul, who met us at the station and rendered us every assistance
possible, had witnessed five revolutions in as many years; there had
been seven presidents in the same period of time. The streets of the
city are narrow and paved with cobblestones; the buildings are low,
constructed of adobe, and have red-tile roofs. There are one or two
banks, a college, several churches, a public market and good hotels,
as well as fair electric car and light service; there is also the
inevitable lottery. We noticed little business activity. An air of
depression seemed to hang like a pall over the people, and this
may be readily accounted for when one recalls the tragic history of
their country. Many of the women were in deep mourning. One authority
estimated that the proportion of women to men was eleven to one,
although this is probably an exaggeration.
One of the most interesting places in Asuncion is the market.
Paraguayan lace is offered for sale in quantities. It is made in
intricate and dainty designs, and many of the pieces consist of
numerous small “wheels” or squares that are made separately and then
united to form collars, handkerchiefs, or covers. One is astonished
at the quantity of fruit displayed; oranges are brought from the
surrounding country in cars and barges, and shovelled, like coal, into
piles or carts. Some of them are of large size, delicate texture,
and excellent flavor. The choicest of these are exported and may be
purchased in Buenos Aires at rather high prices.
After spending a few days at Asuncion we were invited to the home of
one Professor Fiebrig, who lives at Trinidad, a few miles from the
city. Professor Fiebrig is a scientist of more than local note, an
instructor in the University of Paraguay, and curator of the museum.
While journeying to his place we entered into conversation with two
Paraguayans, apparently men of the upper class, who were travelling in
the same car. When they learned our identity they shook their heads
in a pitying and condescending manner. “How sad,” said one of them;
“you North Americans do nothing but pursue the almighty dollar. Now,
in Paraguay we live for art, literature, and science.” We had visited
the natural history museum in Asuncion a few days before, and had
taken note of the bullet-holes in the walls, the rents made in the
stuffed animals by bayonet thrusts, and other marks decidedly not of an
artistic or scientific nature.
[Illustration: Camp on the Rio Negro in the Gran Chaco of the Paraguay.]
[Illustration: Selling oranges in the market at Asuncion.]
Our first zoological work was done in the country near Trinidad. All
about were tracts of land of considerable size, covered with low
forest, patches of brush country, grassy fields, and cultivated
plots. Birds were plentiful, and as practically all of them were new
to us, work in this region was doubly interesting. We here formed our
first intimate acquaintance with the white ani (Guira), member of a
subfamily of cuckoos, large flocks of which sat like rows of beads
on the fronds of palm-trees. They are slender birds, about fifteen
inches long, and are striped with brown, black, and white; a row of
long, narrow feathers forms a high crest. They remained soberly on
their perches, awkwardly jerked their tails from side to side, and
mewed dolefully. The birds seemed utterly out of place among the
vivacious tanagers, creepers, and finches, and seemed to belong more
properly to some remote and unrecorded past. Their flight is slow and
uncertain, the birds flapping their wings and sailing alternately;
when alighting they strike a most ludicrous pose and barely avert
falling over frontward before finally securing their balance. The long
tail helps the bird to keep its equilibrium, although adding to the
awkwardness of its appearance. The bird always gives one the impression
of being exceedingly miserable, and particularly so during cold, rainy
weather. Then all the members of the flock will crowd close together
for warmth and protection, often placing their wings over one another
in an affectionate manner, and even standing perhaps on the backs
of their companions. On account of its scanty covering of feathers,
_Guira guira_ is not well suited to resist cold weather. When the
breeding-season arrives a huge nest is built in a cactus or low bush,
usually at no great height from the ground; but the mass of sticks is
not conspicuous, despite its bulky size. Occasionally a number of birds
occupy the same nest, when many eggs are laid; the adults keep up a
constant wailing and shrieking if their domicile is approached.
The eggs are among the most beautiful laid by any bird. They are
elliptical in form and of a deep turquoise color, covered with a
lace-work deposit of calcareous material. As incubation advances the
shell becomes stained and the white, decorative layer wears away where
the eggs rub together. Then the heretofore lovely egg bursts, and from
it emerges the ugliest creature imaginable. Apparently the natives
can think of no homelier object, for when they wish to call attention
to the fact that one of their neighbor’s children is of a superlative
degree of ugliness, they call it _Pichón de Urraca_ (young urraca).
Mammalian life was scarce, but considering the short time available, a
comparatively representative collection was made, including specimens
of a small gray wolf (_Cerdocyon_), which roamed singly and in pairs in
the country bordering the Paraguay River. A few rabbits and opossums
visited the mandioc-fields at night to feed upon the succulent tubers.
We had abundant opportunities to observe the rural populace in the
vicinity of Trinidad. They are of a rather unambitious type, and seemed
contented only when taking their noonday nap or _siesta_, or while
drinking _maté_. The general language of Paraguay is Guaraní, although
Spanish is used by the upper classes.
“Yerba maté” is the modern name for the _caá guazú_ of the Guaraní.
It is applied to the dried leaves of a species of South American
holly (_Ilex_) growing abundantly in parts of Brazil, Argentina, and
Paraguay. The tree is very bushy and beautiful, and remains green
the year around; the leaves are small, and those of a light-green
color make the best quality of tea. Several methods are employed in
gathering the leaves: one is to cut down the branches, pile them into
huge stacks, and apply heat for about twenty-four hours, when they
are dry and ready for the next stage of manufacture, consisting of
pulverization. The heating and drying process is known as torrefaction.
In preparing the beverage a quantity of the powdered leaves, and
sometimes sugar, also, are placed in a small, hollowed gourd, and
the container is then filled with boiling water. The liquor is taken
through a metal tube called _bombilla_, with a hollow, spoon-shaped
expansion filled with small holes on the end that is placed in the
gourd. It is customary to refill the container with water many times
before recharging it with leaves, and to pass it around among all the
members of a family and any guests who chance to be present. Everybody
drinks in turn from the same maté and tube. A kettle of boiling water
is kept on a charcoal brazier near at hand. Some of the containers or
matés are very elaborate affairs, made of pure silver and elegantly
carved or chased.
The amount of _yerba maté_ consumed annually is enormous. It is
estimated that no less than ten millions of persons in South America
indulge in the habit. In Chile the annual consumption per capita is
about one hundred and twelve pounds; in Paraguay thirty-four pounds,
and in the Argentine twenty pounds. Quantities of it are also exported,
principally to Holland. Some years the supply falls short of the
demand, but plantations have added very materially to the available
wild growth.
_Yerba maté_ has much in common with both tea and coffee, but does not
contain as much tannin as either; of caffein it contains about as much
as coffee, and this imparts to it the sustaining virtues. In many parts
of the maté-drinking belt the beverage only is taken for breakfast,
and I have seen a man in western Argentina take thirty-two matéfuls in
rapid succession. The flavor is very agreeable and not unlike that of
rather strong tea.
After spending a few days at Trinidad we returned to Asuncion. A launch
was placed at our disposal, through the courtesy of the President of
the republic, and on November 11 we started on a short voyage up the
Rio Pilcomayo, into the Gran Chaco of Paraguay. Several men had been
sent with us to look after the luggage, which was carried in a separate
boat towed behind the launch, and three local naturalists, representing
the museum of Asuncion, went along to collect specimens for their
institution.
The Pilcomayo is a river of great size, coming from the northeast
and emptying into the Paraguay a short distance above Asuncion. The
greater part of its course is in the Gran Chaco, a wild, uninviting
region inhabited by savage Indian tribes, and of the interior of
which practically nothing is known. We proceeded up the river but
a comparatively short distance to the little settlement of Porto
Gallileo, the headquarters of a concern engaged in extracting tannin
from quebracho-logs. A comfortable home had been erected for the
management, and their attention and courtesy were most touching. They
were a polyglot community, consisting of a Frenchman, a Brazilian,
a Swede, an Argentinian, a Paraguayan, and a German. However, they
lived on the friendliest possible terms, and all co-operated for the
general good of the company. We came unexpectedly, so no preparations
had been made for our accommodation; but each man had a private store
of treasured articles from home hidden away somewhere, and before long
one brought sheets, another blankets, a third monogrammed towels, etc.,
until we were as comfortably provided for as any one could wish. The
men were very fond of a pet jaguar which they had taken when a cub,
but as the animal grew older its temper became uncertain, so it was
necessary to confine it in a barred cage. Its wild brethren came from
the forest at night to pay it a short visit occasionally, as attested
by the footprints left in the soft ground near the cage.
The factory at Porto Gallileo for the manufacture of tannin was of
considerable size. Upon arrival from the forest the trees were stripped
of bark, ground, and boiled in huge vats. The extract was boiled down
to a concentrate and pressed into small cakes; it is very valuable in
tanning hides, and its use shortens the time usually required for the
process. A number of valuable by-products are also obtained, including
dyestuffs.
A narrow-gauge railway line was being built farther and farther
into the interior as the land was cleared; this had been completed
a distance of fifteen kilometers, and the road-bed was in course of
construction for forty additional kilometres. The morning after our
arrival at Porto Gallileo we proceeded to the end of the line on the
daily work-train, and pitched camp on the bank of a small stream, the
Rio Negro.
[Illustration: A street in Buenos Aires.]
[Illustration: Porto Gallileo on the Rio Pilcomayo.]
Our camp was merely a rough shed built of sheets of corrugated iron
supported on poles driven into the ground. The river-water was salt
and unfit for use, so each morning several large jugs of fresh
drinking-water were sent in from Porto Gallileo, together with a supply
of provisions. All about lay marshes, swamps, and large grass-covered
areas, the latter type of country predominating.
The Rio Negro teemed with a species of _piranha_. They are deep-bodied
and blunt-nosed, and the jaws are armed with sharp, triangular teeth.
Although they grow to a length of eighteen inches in the Orinoco and
some of the other large South American rivers, those we found in the
Rio Negro did not exceed eight inches in length; but they travelled
in enormous schools, and made up in numbers what they lacked in size.
During the hours of late afternoon, when our day’s work was over, I
tried many experiments with the _piranhas_. They have a bad reputation
and are known to attack animals much larger than themselves, and even
human beings who enter the water. Usually they are slow to attack
unless their appetite has been whetted by a taste of blood from a
wound; then, however, their work is done with lightning-like quickness,
and unless the luckless victim succeeds in reaching the shore
immediately nothing but the skeleton will remain within a very short
time. If I fished with a hook and line baited with any kind of raw meat
the fish would scarcely wait for the bait to sink below the surface
of the water. The number caught depended entirely upon the amount of
time spent in fishing. The bodies of large mammals, such as monkeys,
after we had skinned them, were thrown into the stream; instantly
the ravenous hordes charged the spot and tore greedily at the bloody
flesh; so great were their numbers that they threw one another out of
the water in their mad struggles to reach the gory repast. On several
occasions I threw dead or stunned individuals of their species into
the midst of the frenzied mob, but, strange to relate, they floated on
the surface of the water untouched. Unplucked birds were not molested,
either. A struggle in the water seems to attract the fish, but I must
admit that their behavior is very erratic. While washing my hands in
the edge of the stream one day a _piranha_ snapped a piece out of a
finger; a few days later a man in passing over the river on a bridge
dropped his purse into the water in almost the exact spot where I
fished, and where the _piranhas_ were most abundant; he stripped, waded
out very slowly and cautiously so as not to create a disturbance, and
felt about with his toes for the lost article; although the water was
over four feet deep and he remained in it fully fifteen minutes, he
remained untouched.
It is in the dark swamps dotting the chaco like low, glossy islands
that the precious quebracho-trees grow. It was also from these same
swamps that clouds of ravenous mosquitoes issued with the first signs
of failing daylight, and drove us to the refuge of our net-covered
hammocks. There we sweltered through the long hours of the night,
listening to the angry buzzing of our outwitted assailants, which
was not unlike the sound produced by a swarm of enraged bees. I
could distinguish a number of different pitches and qualities in the
music, blending harmoniously in one general chorus. The varying size
of the insects, which ranged from individuals nearly an inch long to
the small infection-bearing _Anopheles_, doubtless accounts for the
different tones produced by the vibrations of the wings. Brockets
were seen occasionally; they left the forest morning and night to
feed. In the tall pampas-grass cavies abounded. They came out into the
opening beside the railroad just before sunrise and ran about, or sat
motionless, when they resembled clods of earth or shadows. Ocelots had
worn well-defined paths through the fields in their nightly raids on
the cavy community. In the trees we found black howlers, night-monkeys,
and giant weasels (_Tayra_); opossums and various species of small
rodents held sway on the ground.
[Illustration: Fort of Coimbra on the Rio Paraguay.]
While there was no scarcity of birds, they were largely species already
known to us, and one day one of the men brought in an anaconda ten feet
long, that he found basking on the river-bank.
After spending a week on the Rio Negro we returned to Asuncion, where
we were joined by the commissaries who had just arrived with the
equipment. Two days later we boarded the comfortable little steamer
_Asuncion_ and started for Corumbá.
The four and a half days’ trip up the Paraguay was most interesting,
although the heat and insects at times were troublesome. We had entered
the great pantanal country, and the vast marshes teemed with bird-life.
As the _Asuncion_ fought the strong current and moved slowly onward
countless thousands of cormorants and anhingas took wing; lining the
pools and dotting the marshes were hordes of wood and scarlet ibises,
together with a sprinkling of herons and spoonbills; egrets covered the
small clumps of trees as with a mantle of snowy white, and long rows of
jabiru storks patrolled both shores. Scarcely a moment passed in which
we did not see hundreds of birds. Some of the passengers were armed
with rifles and revolvers, with which they kept up more or less of a
fusillade on the feathered folk; but fortunately their aim was poor so
that little injury was inflicted.
The day before reaching Corumbá we passed an interesting old landmark.
It is the fort of Coimbra, built on a rocky hillside with a cluster of
thatch-roofed huts nestling against the base. As Coimbra is near the
Bolivian border, the fort figured prominently in several of the bloody
controversies of bygone years between the neighboring republics.