THE CHACO, SUGAR-PLANTATIONS AND RICE MARSHES--A SEARCH FOR A RARE BIRD
The train for the Chaco left Perico at 9 P. M. It was composed largely
of second-class coaches crowded with immigrants, mostly Italians bound
for various parts of the great land that is being rapidly thrown open
to colonization. There was, however, also a compartment-car in which we
had taken the precaution of making a reservation some time in advance.
The darkness prevented our seeing the landscape through which we
passed, but on our return we noted that there was little change from
that around Perico as far as San Pedro. There were, however, numerous
fields of sugar-cane, some of very great size. Beyond San Pedro the
country is all of the Chaco type; that is, vast stretches of pampas
liberally sprinkled with islands of forest. The Vermejo, a river about
the size of the Wabash, was crossed on a steel bridge three miles
before reaching our destination, which was at six o’clock the following
morning.
A group of newly erected shacks, low and so lightly built of
packing-cases and corrugated sheet iron that many of them resembled
mere skeletons of houses; narrow, crooked streets; shops loaded with
fruits and conducted by Italians, and others festooned with bandanna
handkerchiefs, gaudy wearing apparel and cheap jewelry, and owned
by Turks or Syrians; gambling and liquor houses; a motley crowd of
slovenly, not overdressed people, and a tropical sun blazing down
mercilessly on the whole assemblage. That is Embarcacion, the “farthest
east” to date in the north-eastern part of Argentina’s vast Chaco. I
was told that as the railroad is extended farther and farther into the
interior, many of the residents take down their abodes and ship them to
the new station where they are re-assembled; and so a great portion of
the town moves bodily at different intervals.
On all sides lies the seemingly limitless Chaco. There is practically
no cultivation and but few herds of cattle had been introduced to date.
In addition to the great possibilities for cattle-raising, the country
also possesses enormous wealth in quebracho-wood; at present quantities
of it are cut for use as fuel in the locomotives of several of the
railroads. Within a short time, no doubt, these assets will be utilized
in a manner that will be advantageous to both the exploiters and the
country at large.
One of the interesting discoveries in the pampas was a wintering-place
for bobolinks. The extent of this bird’s migration had been shrouded
in mystery, and but a single specimen in winter plumage had ever been
recorded. We found them in flocks of thousands, perched in the top
of the tall grass or picking up seeds from the ground. Their cheery
song was conspicuously absent. They were in spotted plumage. Small
red-breasted meadow-larks (_Leistes_) mingled freely with the bobolinks.
Another place that never failed to attract us was a small lagoon
flanked by forest on two sides, and by prairie on the others. This
region was the resort of many birds. Flocks of Brazilian cardinals
(_Paroaria_) numbering up to thirty individuals congregated in the
bushes, their flaming red heads reminding one of clusters of brilliant
flowers. We discovered a nest of the species, a shallow affair of grass
stems, placed in the end of a branch twenty feet above the ground;
in it were two eggs resembling those of the English sparrow. Small
black-and-white flycatchers (_Fluvicola_) found the lagoon a most
attractive spot. Their pear-shaped bag nests of interwoven grasses
and feathers were scattered about in the overhanging bushes and also
fastened to the stems of aquatic plants, sometimes but a foot above
the water. There were also numbers of grebes, coots, and gallinules,
and occasionally a pair of beautiful Brazilian teals visited the
quiet, secluded body of water. Night-herons kept well to the tops
of the taller trees; and everglade kites flew gracefully and swiftly
overhead, usually singly, and rarely in pairs. We heard the weird call
of chachalacas almost daily, but these birds had been persecuted by
native hunters until they had acquired enough wisdom to avoid hunters
and human beings in general. In one wet strip of woods we found
limpkins in limited numbers. They did not seem to ever come out into
the open country. There was not time to study the frogs, fish, and
small snakes that we saw occasionally; nor to more than admire the
myriads of flowers and curious plants growing on all sides. There was,
however, another naturalist (José Steinbach) working in the locality
at the time of our visit, and fortunately he devoted practically all
his energies to the study of the very things we had to omit, so between
both expeditions the fauna and flora were pretty well covered.
Many of the available trees were burdened with the huge stick nests
of the leñateros (_Synallaxis_). Some of the structures measured six
feet long and two feet through. They were built of thorny twigs, at the
ends of branches. A heap of material is first placed at the very tip of
a limb, and as the weight causes it to sag downward, more sticks are
added until the huge mass hangs suspended in a vertical position. The
thorns cause the whole affair to hold together so well that opossums
and other predatory animals find it impossible to burrow their way
through the walls to the interior cavity where the four or five white
eggs, or the young birds, are cleverly concealed in a downy cup. There
is usually a second chamber near the top of the nest; this is the male
bird’s night quarters while his mate is incubating or brooding in the
lower story.
Blue-headed tanagers (_Thraupis_) preferred to nest in the trees and
bushes near to some human habitation, while blue grosbeaks selected
more secluded sites in some little woods or thickets. The latter birds
breed before the male changes his brown nestling plumage to the deep
indigo-blue coat of the adult.
[Illustration: The lagoon in the Chaco, Embarcacion.]
[Illustration: Paramo above Tafí.]
The most beautiful of all South American birds’ eggs are laid by the
tinamou. They are placed in a depression in the ground, usually under
a tuft of grass or near a log or stone. Their color varies in the
different species, running through turquoise and deep blue, lavender,
brown, green, and gold. The shape is rounded or broadly ovate and
the shell is very smooth so that it glows like a varnished or highly
polished sphere. In spite of the glossy texture of the surface, minute
scrutiny will reveal the fact that it is pitted like that of the eggs
of the rhea to which the tinamou are closely related.
We saw a fox occasionally, slinking across a trail and always well out
of gun-range. Each morning there were tracks of cats and large cavies
in the dusty paths, but mammals were scarce and few came to our traps.
There were no mosquitoes during the day, and only enough at night to
make the use of a net desirable. Sand-flies, however, often appeared in
considerable numbers and were troublesome. The climate was intolerably
hot during the greater part of our stay. Each day the thermometer rose
a few degrees higher until we found even the lightest and scantiest
amount of clothing uncomfortable; all through the long afternoons we
sat shirtless with streams of perspiration pouring down our backs,
preparing the specimens that spoiled within a few hours unless properly
preserved. About every fourth or fifth day the weather broke and a
deluge of rain falling throughout the afternoon and night brought with
it a lowered temperature and welcome respite from the oppressive heat.
Our greatest problem was dealing with the hosts of small red ants
that persisted in getting at our specimens. We kept the latter on a
table the legs of which stood in tin cans half full of kerosene; but a
trailing thread, a piece of paper blown by the wind, or any one of a
dozen other trivial things that happened daily furnished bridges over
which the insatiable hordes promptly swarmed to destroy our hard-gotten
trophies.
We next headed toward Tucuman and upon our arrival there were
pleased to find a city of sixty thousand inhabitants, delightful
from practically every point of view. The people were particularly
interesting. We saw few of them on the streets during the daytime,
but in the late afternoon after the shops and offices had closed and
bolted their doors, the men appeared in crowds, all well and neatly
dressed. They congregated in the saloons and cafés fringing the plaza,
and drank beer and small cups of strong, black coffee until about
seven o’clock. In many instances the tables were arranged on both
sides of the pavement so that one walked through a lane between rows
of sleek-combed youths twirling gaudily banded straw hats or canes,
and noisily discussing--what-not, and grave-faced men with gray hair
and beards everlastingly talking politics. After going home to supper
they reappeared with the womenfolk, the wealthier ones circling about
the plaza in carriages or motor-cars, the less opulent afoot. The band
played every other night.
The great Province of Tucuman, of which the city bearing the same
name is the capital, is one of the most fertile in all Argentina.
Its principal products are sugar, rice, and cattle. Land values are
high--too high in some cases, but it cannot be denied that there is
good reason for the rapidly rising scale of prices.
In Tucuman we found the chief of police a hard proposition to handle
when it came to securing the hunting-license. To begin with, we had
great difficulty in entering his sanctuary. The door was guarded
by a mammoth negro who rushed into the inner chamber each time the
_intendente_ rang for him. First he always jerked a huge club out from
under his coat--ready perhaps to take the first whack at the official
if some one started anything, instead of defending him. Finally we
succeeded in entering the holy of holies, and found a small, rather
elderly man sitting behind a large, flat desk, sipping tea while
several _secretarios_ hopped wildly about him and yelled into an
ear-trumpet held in position by one of his hands. He failed utterly to
understand our request, and curtly refused to have anything to do with
any _millinery establishment_. We argued in vain, then retired to think
of some new move, for the permit was necessary if we wished to keep out
of jail, and I must admit that such was our ardent desire.
There being no United States Consul in Tucuman, I appealed to the
British Consul for assistance. He very kindly spent many hours calling
on various officials, from the governor down, explaining our mission
and asking that the small matter be arranged for us. Our quest seemed
hopeless until one day a copy of one of the large daily newspapers
arrived from Buenos Aires, and in this I found an account of how
representatives of Latin-American countries who were attending the
scientific congress in Washington had been received and entertained at
the American Museum of Natural History during their visit to New York.
Armed with this clipping I again invaded the _palacio_. Ordinarily I
should not have done such a thing, as there are many reasons why it
is not commendable, but the situation was desperate and called for
aggressive tactics. Suffice it to say that this visit was the last. A
mild comparison of how their people were treated in our country, and
the difficulties we had in theirs was sufficient, and when I left the
building the permit was in my pocket.
The Sierra de Tucuman, a range of comparatively low mountains, rises
directly west of the city. This we found to be covered with a growth
of tall, dense forest, so we lost no time in moving there. We left the
city by rail and proceeded southwestward to a small station called San
Pablo, a short distance away. This is in the heart of the sugar region
and vast fields of cane stretch on either side of the railway. Here and
there the tall brick chimneys of a refinery rise above the waving green
fields, and wide, deep canals divide the cultivated areas into sections
and supply water for irrigation.
A good cart-road leads from San Pablo up the side of the mountain to
the very summit, four thousand six hundred feet high, where the little
town of Villa Nougués is situated. This settlement is a favorite resort
of the wealthier class of people who come up from Tucuman to spend the
summer months in pleasant châteaux, thereby avoiding the heat of the
lower country.
The view from the top of the range is superb; the country to the east
is perfectly level, and is laid out in symmetrical fields of cane as
far as the eye can see. A small, muddy river, threading its way through
the ocean of green divides it into two sections and vanishes into the
horizon in a haze of purple mist. To the west stands the stern Andean
chain, barren and precipitous, its summit hidden in banks of cold, gray
clouds.
We made a first camp in the forest below Villa Nougués, at an altitude
of four thousand feet. From the very first day we had heard the shrill
little call of a bird which we attributed to the much-coveted tapacola
(_Scytalopus_) we were looking for; but the elusive creature always
remained in concealment among the ferns and mosses and not once did we
get a glimpse of it. Then we secured ox-carts and moved to the other
side of the mountain, where, we were told, hunting was not so difficult.
Birds were not abundant, the fall migrations having left the forest
almost deserted. The few species which remained, however, such as
wood-hewers, thrushes, tanagers, and jays, were plentiful, and
several kinds of humming-birds added life and color to the sombre
green of the vegetation. After many days we succeeded in tracing
the mysterious chirp to its source, and found, not the bird we were
seeking, but a dainty little wood-wren of the shyest possible nature.
The minute, secretive creature seemed to spend its entire time among
the buttresses, roots, and moss-draped undergrowth, where no ray of
sunlight ever penetrated to dispel the chill and semidarkness, or give
a touch of warmth to the soggy mould. Its glimpses of daylight must
be brief indeed, and at infrequent intervals. We had come to the
mountains in a state of enthusiasm and expectancy, for here it seemed
we should succeed in ending our long quest for the tapacola. As the
days passed, thrilling excitement gave way to exasperation, and finally
disappointment alone remained to fill the void created by the flight of
the other emotions.
We returned to Tucuman for a brief time, and then struck for the forest
farther south. This time we left the railroad at a station called
Acherál two and one-half hours from Tucuman, and camped in the forest
at the foot of the ridge. Again we were doomed to disappointment. Birds
were more abundant than at Villa Nougués, but the tapacola was not
forthcoming. There were, however, numerous other interesting species.
Pigmy woodpeckers (_Picumnus_) selected the patches of high brush and
second-growth woods just without the edge of the forest proper. They
are little larger than a good-sized humming-bird, dark or black above,
white underneath, and have a red cap. Their industrious hammering
always advertised the presence of a pair as they hopped quickly along
the trunks and branches, tapping for worms or excavating a nesting-site.
The woods were undermined with tunnels made by the queer _tuco-tuco_,
or _oculto_ (_Ctenomys_), a species of which we had come in contact
with in Brazil. We set a steel trap in one of the subterranean runways,
carefully covering with a log the opening we had made; soon a series of
low grunts emanated from the spot, and we found a fine, large specimen
of the strange rodent safely held by the steel jaws.
Bottle flies were so numerous as to prove a most disagreeable pest.
Blankets, clothing, food, and specimens alike were covered with “blow”
if left exposed for but a few minutes. We were lucky in possessing
enough netting with which to rig up covers for everything, but even
then numbers gained entrance, and we had to clean the infested articles
frequently by passing them over a fire or by scraping and brushing.
After a few days we concluded that a visit to the top of the range,
which at this point attains an altitude of over ten thousand feet,
was necessary. We secured a pack-train of mules from Acherál, and one
morning at one o’clock started up the steep slope. A full moon showered
a flood of light upon the earth, but the overhanging branches formed
a thick canopy over the trail, impermeable to the silvery radiance
save when an occasional breeze stirred the leafy arch, thus permitting
fitful shafts of light to pierce the darkness of the tunnel, and to
fall in quavering, dancing blotches on the ground. We could almost feel
the impenetrable blackness which closed in from all sides like water
in a deep, dark pool. The light touch of a streamer dangling from the
moss-festooned branches overhead, or the velvety swish of fern leaves
protruding beyond the protecting walls of tree-trunks, made it seem as
if the forest were peopled with hovering, invisible forms. No sound
disturbed the brooding silence of the night except the dull hoof-beats
of the mules as, guided by some mysterious instinct, they cautiously
picked their way through the muddy and rock-strewn lane.
Hour after hour we followed blindly in the wake of the bell-mule,
winding back and forth along the mountainside, but mounting ever
upward. The latter part of the way seemed to lie near the course of a
small mountain torrent, for we were almost constantly within hearing
distance of rushing water. Finally, we emerged from the forest, and,
just as day was breaking, reached a brush-covered strip of country, the
elevation of which is five thousand feet. This continued to the top
of the ridge, two thousand feet above. Then there was a depression of
considerable extent, filled with rank, low vegetation and infested with
swarms of bloodthirsty flies which render it uninhabitable.
After ascending another ridge, the trail led gently downward into a
level valley a dozen miles long and from one to two miles wide. Herds
of cattle were grazing on the abundant grass; a few small areas had
been enclosed within stone walls and planted in maize; and at the far
end, half concealed by willows and fruit-trees, lay a village of
whitewashed houses. At half past four in the afternoon we reached the
settlement, called Tafí del Valle, and soon after were comfortably
ensconced in a hut hospitably provided by one of the inhabitants. After
the fifteen and a half hours’ uninterrupted ride over a difficult trail
we were ready for a journey into a still more remote region, and the
sun was shining brightly the following morning when we again returned
to the stern realities of this world.
Tafí del Valle is a most delightful place. Even though the altitude
is seven thousand feet, the surrounding peaks shut in the valley and
protect it from the icy winds. There is no natural forest in this
region, but groves of willows have been planted near the houses; to
these, large numbers of birds came to spend the night. Hawks were
especially abundant and of many kinds--we collected no fewer than
seventeen species during our ten days’ stay; then there were also
burrowing owls, larks, flycatchers, thrushes, and many other birds.
Some species which ordinarily live in brush-covered country had
become adapted to their barren surroundings and were nesting in holes
excavated in banks of earth. When the birds had reared their broods,
rats, mice, and pigmy opossums occupied the old nesting-sites.
A clear, cold stream, which flows through one side of the valley,
spreads out at the lower end over a large area, forming lagoons and
marshes. Geese, ducks, coots, night-herons, and sandpipers made these
places a favorite resort. Pectoral sandpipers were not uncommon, and
were so fat that they were unable to fly and could be taken with the
hands. There were also flocks of stilts; they are beautiful creatures,
either when flying in compact formation, with measured wing-beats
and outstretched necks and legs, or when standing motionless in the
shallow water, their snowy underparts reflected in quivering outlines.
Lapwings screamed and cackled in resentment of our visit and frequently
frightened away flocks of water-fowl which we were stalking.
Apparently our _Scytalopus_ was not a bird of the open highlands. We
even began to wonder if it existed at all, because, so far, the most
thorough search had failed to reveal any trace of it. There remained,
however, the high _paramo_ above, and to this we next turned our
attention.
Our sudden arrival at Tafí had caused much comment among the
inhabitants. They found it impossible to believe that we had come
to that remote region in search of a small, dull-colored bird, and
after a few days it became an open secret that we were regarded
as spies--though just what nature of information we sought, could
not be determined. They even went so far as to refer to the matter
occasionally in a good-natured manner; and when we were away on hunting
excursions, it was their custom to put our cook, a Bolivian, through
a sort of “third degree” in an effort to compel him to confess the
real object of our visit. Therefore, when we planned to move to the
high peaks bordering the little valley, the natives considered their
evidence complete; we were going, they said, to prepare a diagram of
the country from our new point of vantage. The only person who really
understood the purpose of our mission was a man from Tucuman who had
been sent up to vaccinate the Indians. He started out each morning
accompanied by two or three soldiers, rounded up all the Indians of
a given locality, and vaccinated them. The natives did not at the
time realize the significance of this act; but when, a few weeks
later, the inoculations had had time to become effective, they grew
frantic, and grim-faced little parties began to scour the country in
search of the person who had “poisoned” them. Fortunately, none of the
scouting-parties came our way, for to them all strangers look very much
alike, and there was the possibility that one of us might have been
mistaken for the doctor.
The _paramo_ above Tafí is a bleak region, almost perpetually enveloped
in mist. Work in this type of country possesses its disadvantages, for
in addition to the intense cold and the lack of fuel, there is always
the possibility that one may be trapped far from camp by banks of
clouds which roll in unexpectedly! The cold, penetrating mist is so
dense that it is impossible to distinguish objects but a few yards
away, and the most familiar landmarks assume strange and fantastic
outlines. In the event that one is overtaken by this phenomenon, there
is nothing to do but wait until the mist lifts, which may be in a
few hours, or perhaps, not until the next day. Strange to say, the
inhospitable _paramo_ supports a varied fauna. Herds of wary guanacos
feed on the tall, wiry grass growing in the more sheltered places; when
alarmed, they flee to the inaccessible rocky slopes. The _paja_, or
grass, harbors also a species of large tinamou, but the bird is loath
to leave its safe cover, for no sooner does it take wing than hawks,
which are always hovering about, swoop down and carry it away.
Numbers of deep ravines have been worn in the mountainsides by water
coming from the melting snows on the higher peaks. These are filled
with a rank growth of shrubbery. The sides are so abrupt that we could
find no spot where a descent was possible without the aid of a thousand
feet or more of rope. After a number of days, however, a narrow fissure
was discovered leading to one of the ravines from which came faint
bird-calls that we at once recognized with a fair degree of certainty.
On account of the high altitude and tangled plant-life it was slow,
tiring work to follow along the bottom of the jagged gash; there was
also the unpleasant possibility of breaking through the matted brush
and falling into deep crevices among the rocks.
As we struggled along slowly, high-pitched, whistling calls rang clear
and loud from numerous places near by, but still it seemed as if our
efforts might be of no avail; for among that chaos of vegetation it was
impossible to move without causing great disturbance and frightening
the birds away. Then there recurred to us the old saying about Mahomet
and the mountain and we resorted to quiet concealment.
Presently there was a crisp little chirp and a rustle among the
mosses a few yards away; one, two, five minutes passed; then a minute,
shadowy form darted out of the darkness, perched on a moss-covered
boulder, and turned a pair of bright, inquisitive eyes upon the strange
monsters which had invaded its snug retreat. The white throat gleamed
conspicuously among the deep-green surroundings as the bird paused a
moment to complete its inspection; then up went the short, barred tail,
straight into the air, and a succession of low, scolding notes emanated
from the feathered mite as it hopped about in angry excitement.
We found that the bird existed in numbers; once we had discovered a
way of entering its stronghold, it was possible to make the desired
studies. Thus our difficult search, covering so many hundreds of miles,
came to a pleasant and successful close.
Our work in the Argentine, however, was by no means completed. After
a short return trip to our base, we went some distance farther south
to Aguilares, a village similar to San Pablo and Acherál. Persimmons
and tangerines were in season, and at each station women came to the
car-windows offering great bunches of the fruit for sale. The former
were most attractive while on the trees; they were as large as a hen’s
egg, of a deep-red color, and were evenly distributed among the dense,
green foliage. The flavor of both was excellent.
Within an hour after reaching Aguilares we had been invited to visit
the estate of a wealthy rice-grower named Da Costa, and soon after
we were on our way, his son taking us there in a carriage while
the luggage went in a cart. At the ranch we found a large, rather
dilapidated house occupied by the family of the caretaker. On one
side were great rice-fields; on the other, totora marshes, pastures,
and woods. The place was most attractive, and the people altogether
delightful, so that we spent over two weeks busily engrossed in the
abundant work at hand.
The marshes covered many acres and were filled with cattails except
for a few narrow lanes of open water. Coypu rats had their runways
crisscrossing in every direction--sometimes neat, rounded tunnels
with the bottom just under water, and again, wide trails where the
vegetation had been trampled down. They look like very large musk-rats
and their skins, known commercially as _nutria_, are exported by
hundreds of thousands each year to be manufactured into felt hats of
the better quality. We caught several that gnawed down all the stalks
within reach and piled them into neat islands on which to sit. They
feigned death until touched with a stick when they attempted to bite
and fought viciously. Jumping mice and large, light-brown, woolly rats
used the same paths as their bigger relatives. One afternoon a fine
individual of the great red wolf we had secured at Corumbá appeared at
the edge of the rushes for a moment only to vanish into the dark marsh
at our first movement; a few minutes later he was seen loping into the
brush several hundreds of yards away.
Ducks came to the region daily, mostly teals and rosy-bills, but in
small numbers only. They were hard to get, as wading in the waist-deep,
ice-cold water and mud was slow work and they invariably took warning
and left while still out of range. At night flocks of painted snipe
(_Rostratula_) ventured to the open borders to feed. While we were
quietly waiting, a dusky form appeared and began to probe the mud
frantically, to be joined by others in a short time. They skipped
about on the flats adjoining the reed-beds in a most erratic manner,
reminding one of the actions of water-beetles, and upon the first sign
of danger promptly disappeared in the labyrinth of stems and grasses.
They seldom took wing, and then it was but to flutter up above the
tallest reeds and immediately drop out of sight in the thick cover.
It is to this region of dense totara marshes that the cowbirds
revert to spend the winter season, arriving from all directions in
comparatively small flocks, but increasing in numbers until there are
tens of thousands.
As the rice was ripening about this time, the birds did an enormous
amount of damage. All day long, men on horseback rode back and forth
through the fields, armed with slings and a bag full of pebbles; they
hurled stones and shouted themselves hoarse in a vain endeavor to
frighten away the marauding hosts.
The birds, in bands of a few individuals to several hundred, arrived
each morning at daybreak, flying low and swiftly, and making a
“swishing” sound as they cut through the air. When immediately over the
rice-fields, the band would suddenly swerve as if to circle, but drop
almost instantly and eat greedily without a moment’s delay. Upon seeing
a flock approach, the men threw stones and shouted, often succeeding in
making it pass straight over or leave the vicinity after circling once
or twice. Should the birds alight, the hail of stones soon put them
to rout, but not until a few grains of the much-coveted rice had been
secured by each individual.
As the day advanced the birds spread out over the surrounding country
where they were not persecuted, and spent most of the time on the
ground near the cattle and horses, often perched on the backs of the
grazing animals. At nightfall they returned to the cattails, and in
passing over the rice-fields again took toll from the planters. The
flocks in the marshes assumed tremendous proportions, and the babble of
voices resembled a rushing wind; the roar of wings, if the masses were
suddenly startled by the report of a gun, was not unlike the roll of
distant thunder. Before finally settling down for the night they spent
some time hopping about on the mud-flats and eating minute animal and
vegetable matter.
Carlos S. Reed, F. Z. S., Director of the Natural History Museum,
Mendoza, Argentine Republic, gives the results of his investigations
as to the food of _Molothrus bonariensis_ in a paper in the _Revista
Chilena de Historia Natural_, año XVII, No. 3, 1913. The following is a
translation, as literal as possible, of a part of the original paper,
which is written in Spanish:
“In the summer of 1910 there occurred in various departments of
the Province of Mendoza, a great invasion of _Isocas_ (larvæ of a
lepidopteran) and in various inspections which I realized in the
infected countryside I was able to confirm that a number of birds
occupied themselves in eating the larvæ and adults of these _Isocas_
(_Colias lesbia_ Fabr.) and among them _Molothrus bonariensis_
predominated.
“It is also a voracious destroyer of the white worm (larva of _Ligyrus
bidentulus_ Fairm.) when these are exposed in ploughing furrows in the
vineyards. The ‘_bicho de cesto_’ (_Æceticus platensis_ Berg) is also
very much persecuted by the bird with which we are occupied.
“The corn-fields suffer damages by reason of _Molothrus bonariensis_,
but only during the period between the beginning of the ripening of the
ear and its collection; certainly, one ought not to take this damage
into consideration when, during eleven months, _Molothrus bonariensis_
has fed in the cultivated country on other products, not on maize, and
among these has predominated the larva of _Chloridea armigera_, the
most formidable enemy of the maize-fields.
“I have examined the stomach contents of more than sixty specimens
of _Molothrus bonariensis_, freshly shot, in the various seasons and
have encountered about 90 per cent of substance of animal origin and
the rest grains, principally maize, but the maize they have generally
obtained from the offal of horses and mules, as in Mendoza a good deal
of maize is given to working animals, and, as the grain is fed entire,
a goodly percentage of it is eliminated without having been digested.
It is for this reason that one frequently finds this bird scratching
among and turning over the offal. This custom is why it has been given
the name of _virabosta_ in Brazil. Therefore, _Molothrus bonariensis_
may be looked upon as a bird helpful rather than destructive to
agriculture.”
Rice is planted in “boxes” about twenty-five feet square. Water is
supplied through a system of canals some of which are many miles long,
and its level is regulated by sets of locks and gates. A few of the
fields had already been cut over and the sheaves piled in stacks to
dry. Small rodents--rats and mice--were so numerous that they worked
great havoc. We ran over our traps thrice daily and always found all of
them filled. At dusk short-eared owls came to the vicinity and perched
on the mounds from which they could swoop down and capture the mice
that teemed in the stubble below. I fired several heavy charges of shot
at these birds one evening, and the weather being clear and quiet,
the sound carried to the village about a mile and a half away. Early
next morning a police sergeant rode up and informed us that we were
under arrest. We thanked him for the information, and he left while
we went on with our work. At noon another orderly came to repeat the
message of the first, and to add that we were expected to report at the
police-station immediately. The next day we went to see what all the
trouble was about. The “jefe” was waiting for us at the entrance to the
jail, surrounded by a curious audience of townspeople. He looked sad,
grave, and offended as he began: _“Señores_, I heard five shots night
before last.” “Yes, _señor_,” I interrupted, “I fired at least eight or
ten.” “_Pues_, that is absolutely prohibited here; one may not shoot
under any circumstances whatsoever, so I am compelled to place you in
confinement.” At this part of the proceedings I merely flashed our
permit and asked him why the governor of the province should give out
such a document, and charge two _pesos_ for it, if one could not hunt
under any circumstances. He was taken completely by surprise and did
not know what to say, so we wished him good morning and went home, much
to the amusement of the crowd which had a good laugh at the _jefe’s_
expense.
The Argentinians are inveterate drinkers of _maté_. It is taken from
a _bombilla_, as in Paraguay, and all classes of people indulge in
the habit. I heard that a law had recently been passed requiring each
person to use an individual tube as the old system of everybody’s
using the same one indiscriminately had caused the spread of various
diseases, among them cancer of the mouth, at an alarming rate. Our
good friends at Los Sarmientos were very fond of their daily brew, and
usually took nothing else for breakfast. They at first very generously
passed the steaming bowl to us, but soon grew accustomed to our
refusals and refrained from extending further invitations to drink.
The weather grew rapidly colder and rain or snow fell almost daily. A
mantle of white completely covered the Andes stretching in an unbroken
range to the west of us; the picture presented in the early mornings
was one of great beauty, as the sun lit up the snowy summits with a
rosy light, while a thin bank of purplish vapor enveloped the foot of
the range in a soft mantle of regal splendor.
Hunting in the marshes grew most difficult on account of the cold,
and the thin ice through which we had to crunch to reach the better
collecting-grounds. We therefore decided to seek a friendlier clime,
and returned to Tucuman to prepare for a visit to the desert regions of
Santiago del Estero.