THE LAKE REGION OF WESTERN ARGENTINA--THE HEART OF THE WINE COUNTRY
Inhabitants of the vine-growing districts of Argentina claim that their
country produces more wine than California; and, judging by appearances
as we entered the Province of San Juan, there seemed to be abundant
evidence to support the belief that the yield of grapes is enormous.
The soil is sandy and the seepage of snow-water from the mountains is
ample to make up for the lack of rainfall.
Many of the vineyards are of great extent. Grapes of numerous varieties
are grown, and for size and flavor they are unequalled by any I have
ever seen anywhere. Wines of many kinds, and grades, are made, and they
are of uniformly excellent quality. Even the champagnes are good. The
price at which they sell is low in that part of the country--so low
in fact that even the laboring class drink them with their meals. In
Buenos Aires they cost as much as the imported article, owing to the
fact that freight between San Juan or Mendoza and Buenos Aires equals
or exceeds shipping charges from Spain, Portugal, and France.
The city of San Juan reminded us of Salta; perhaps it is not quite so
large or up-to-date, but it is nevertheless not unattractive; we spent
little time there as we had been invited to a _finca_, where there is a
lake of considerable size, to shoot ducks.
One of my ambitions had always been to find a place where ducks and
geese were really plentiful--in fact abundant enough to furnish
an interesting pastime, observing them under conditions that were
not too trying, and where they would also furnish good sport. We
had heard of the wonderful shooting on Lake Titicaca, but upon our
arrival the season was closed and there was little besides coots and
grebes; however, at certain times of the year there is an abundance
of water-fowl and sportsmen from La Paz get enviable shooting
opportunities.
The marshes along the Cauca River, Colombia, had given better results.
Teals, tree-ducks, ruddies, and an occasional pair of big muscovies
could always be found; but the ducks were loath to take wing, and going
after them in the dense grass and thorny shrubbery growing in the
marshes was very trying work.
Then we had reached the rice-growing district around Los Sarmientos.
“Ducks?” they said. “Why, _hombre_, they are bringing them into Tucuman
by the thousands. The government is paying a bounty of five cents a
head on them as they are destroying all the rice. They are swooping
down by the tens of thousands; all the lakes in the south have dried
up, so they are coming here. When the flocks rise from the fields, the
earth trembles.”
That was certainly good news; but when we arrived, the birds had
departed for regions unknown.
Leaving San Juan at 6 P. M., we reached a station called Media Agua
(half water) two hours later. Our new friend had sent a _peon_ to meet
us, bringing a wagon; so as soon as we could extricate our luggage from
the pile on the station platform, we loaded the vehicle and started on
the long drive across the cold, barren country. It was very dark and
there was not much of a road anyway, so the wagon jolted along over
the rocks or dragged heavily through deep sand. The cold was intense;
we wrapped up in heavy Indian blankets, which, however, did not give
complete protection from the stinging blasts.
At midnight the driver refused to go any farther and drew up at a
lonely hut, where we spent the rest of the night. Early next morning
we were off again. We now passed through large irrigated fields where
wheat was grown, and also a good deal of maize. Then the desert began
again, and from appearances there was not a drop of water within many
miles.
We questioned the driver about the lake, and whether there were any
_patos_ (ducks); but he only shrugged his shoulders and said: “_Quien
sabe?_”
Suddenly we saw the shimmer of placid water ahead, and soon drew up
at a board shack some little distance from the lake. Our man had told
us to take nothing but our guns and ammunition, as his caretaker, who
lived in the hut we had just reached, would provide everything else. We
took a tent and a few provisions anyway, just to be safe, and it was
lucky that we did. Not only had nothing been provided, but the tenant
had not even been advised of our coming. He had only one dirty little
room, but this he very generously placed at our disposal; however,
we preferred to camp outside, although it was bitter cold. His wife
consented to do the cooking.
The tent was hastily put up; then we hurried to the lake, leaving the
family busily engaged in slaughtering a goat for lunch.
All the surrounding country is a wind-swept desert, there being no
trees and but a few thorny bushes. In spots the sand and alkali dust
is several feet deep. It seemed impossible that there could be a lake
in such a parched-looking locality; but there lay the glistening sheet
of water, stretching away into the distance as far as the eye could
see. Along the edges were vast, shallow marshes, covering hundreds of
acres; in these, sedges grew abundantly, forming shelter and providing
a limitless feeding-ground for water-fowl. Half a mile from the bank
stood great clumps of _totoras_, or cattails, rearing their tough,
slender stems to a height of seven or eight feet above the water.
What was infinitely more interesting to us, the whole surface of the
lake, from its marshy edge to the rows of _totoras_ fading away in the
distance, was teeming with water-birds.
There were no boats to be had in the neighborhood, as the natives use
reed rafts. They cut quantities of cattails, bind them into long,
thick bundles and, lashing several of them together, form a craft that
will support a man, although his feet are always under the icy water.
Shooting from such a contrivance, unless it is larger than any I have
seen, would be impossible. Therefore we started to walk along the muddy
banks in the hope that something would fly over.
After having gone a short distance, a commotion among the sedges
attracted our attention, and a moment later a large gray fox appeared
and trotted away. A charge of No. 4 shot stopped him; he was in
splendid fur and made a desirable addition to our lot of trophies.
Later, we saw them frequently; they haunt the edges of the marsh and
feed upon coots and wounded ducks. Carrion-hawks, also, were always
about in considerable numbers and reaped a rich harvest.
Coots of several species were running around everywhere. They wandered
far away from the water, apparently to pick up toads or lizards, and
as we approached, scurried back to the marsh or hid in the dense,
low bushes, where they remained motionless until the cause of their
fright had passed. Ducks were all well out of range and refused to fly
over. I hesitate to estimate their numbers, there were such countless
thousands, but in many places the water was covered with them, and
there were large white geese and black-necked swans. Black rails of
good size darted about or waded boldly out in the open, jerking their
tails and clucking.
It did not take us long to discover that we were too late in the day
for ducks, so we started back to camp, cutting across the country.
Several tinamous got up singly, with a loud whir of wings; they flew
straight and fast, a great contrast to the slow, wavering flight of the
forest-inhabiting species.
When we reached camp, some of the goat-meat had been roasted and we had
a feast! The rest of the day was spent in straightening up camp.
Our eight by twelve foot “balloon silk” tent had been put up under a
shed adjoining the house; this protected it from the wind on at least
one side. To be of any use in the tropics, the tent must of course be
provided with a ground-cloth and bobbinet curtains; it should also
contain a window, screened with netting, in the roof. We did not need
the curtains, so tied them back. A brazier was kindled, and after it
was filled with glowing embers, it was taken into the tent; it warmed
the tent thoroughly within a few moments and kept a fire all night. The
window, which was always kept open, served its mission splendidly as a
means of ventilation.
The owner of the hut had gone away to look for a boat, and that night
returned with one of ample size; but next morning a furious wind was
blowing, so hunting was out of the question. The air was so filled
with dust that one could not see anything more than a few yards away,
and huge waves rolled in from the lake and tore hungrily at the sandy
banks. These storms are very common during the winter months and blow
up several times a week.
The third day of our visit was beautiful. We pushed the boat out of
the tangle of sedges and made straight for the cattails. The birds
were stirring, and flock after flock passed overhead. When we paddled
quietly into the midst of the green islets, we seemed to enter a new
world, filled with surprises and wonderful beyond description. The
tall, graceful stems of the totoras swayed gently with the swell made
by the passing boat, and cast long shadows in the narrow lanes of
glassy water they enclosed. Coots and grebes, like shadows, paddled
silently away and lost themselves among the reeds; ruddy ducks popped
up here, there, and everywhere, stared a moment, and then dived again
with a splash; they seemed to spend a good deal of their time under
water, and the fishermen frequently caught them in gill-nets set along
the bottom of the lake. The male ruddies were in fine plumage, with
deep chestnut backs, white throat-patches, and bright-blue bills;
they seldom tried to fly, and then skimmed the water for a few
yards only; the ones we shot were so fat that it is hard to understand
how they could fly at all. Occasionally we saw a giant grebe. From a
distance it resembled a loon; they are fast swimmers and expert divers.
Our boatman always begged us to shoot these birds, as the natives are
very fond of the flesh and, also, the skin of the breast with its
beautiful white, silky feathers, brings a good price in the feather
markets. Needless to say, none was shot for this purpose.
[Illustration: Rice-fields at the foot of the Andes Mountains,
Sarmientos.]
Among the reeds flitted a wonderful little bird, known as the military
flycatcher, or “bird of seven colors.” It is little larger than a
wren, yellow underneath and green above, with the crest and under
tail-coverts bright red; there are yellow stripes on the sides of the
head and the cheeks are blue; the wings and tail are black. The bird is
a sprightly little fellow, flitting and jumping about among the reeds
in pursuit of small insects, and uttering its cheerful “_cheeps_” at
frequent intervals; it gives a touch of color and dainty life to the
sombre green of the vegetation, and to the reflections in the murky
water below.
Presently we left the region of the _totoras_ and emerged into the
open lake. The surface was dotted with ducks, coots, and grebes--a
squawking, diving, racing mass that defies description. We made right
for the centre of action. The coots always waited until the boat was
but a few yards away and then, after giving a few clucks, started to
run and flop across the water, leaving a myriad of silvery, rippling
paths in their wake, and making the marsh reverberate with the noise.
Often this would frighten the ducks, and flocks would jump up all
around in such vast numbers that we were lost in admiration watching
the wonderful sight of the thousands of swishing, black forms hurtling
into the wintry sky.
Our method of hunting was to paddle along slowly, squatting low in
the boat until within range of a flock of ducks; then, by standing up
suddenly, the flock would be frightened into taking wing, and the
individuals we had selected could be picked off. We wanted birds in
good plumage only, and this manner of hunting gave us the opportunity
of selecting each individual separately. There were shovellers and
cinnamon teal without number; the handsome males, in brightest plumage,
were dashing around the inconspicuously colored females, swimming low
and with bills flat on the water; usually there were not more than
a dozen or fifteen in a party. Then there were scaups, tree-ducks,
pintails, blackheads, and rosy-bills. The latter were wary; they always
passed high above, in large flocks, and the rushing sound made by their
wings could be heard a long distance away.
Dabbling in the mud-banks along the edge of the marsh were flocks of
from four to thirty large white geese (_Casa-roba_). Black-necked
swans, singly or in small groups, sailed about majestically. Of the two
birds the geese were the more graceful, and by far the more beautiful.
The swans were not very wild, but when the boat approached they began
to utter shrill “_kee-wee’s_”; finally they would launch into the air
with a great deal of flapping, beating the water with powerful strokes
of the wings, and keeping up their cry all the while. When we neared a
flock of geese, they began to patrol the water ahead, swimming back and
forth, and eying us with suspicion; they swam well out of the water,
with a graceful carriage of the head and neck, and uttered constant
loud, penetrating cries that sounded like “_honk-honk-queenk_.” What
is more thrilling than the clear, piercing challenge of this spirit
of the wild? Wafted across the watery waste on the wings of a crisp
autumn wind, it comes as a message from the regions of snow and ice--a
foreboding of the bleak, dark days to follow. I never tired of hearing
it, and lost more than one shot at a flock coming over from another
direction because I was so interested in listening to the fascinating
notes of other birds ahead of us. When they finally decided to take
wing, they rose from the water quickly and gracefully, and flew at
great speed, stringing out in various formations. They always went far
away before again dropping down into the water.
We continued paddling through the centre of the open water to a large
mud-flat in search of flamingoes. The natives called them _choflos_,
and said that a great many came to this spot each day to feed on the
small snails and other mollusks which abound in the shallow places.
When still a good distance away we could make out what seemed to be
a long row of old piles driven into the centre of the mud-flat. The
water had become so shallow that the boat could not proceed, so there
was nothing to do but wade, not an altogether pleasant experience, as
it was bitter cold and sheets of thin ice floated about everywhere.
When we moved, the flamingoes stood stock-still and looked at us; when
we stood motionless they lowered their heads, dabbled in the mud, and
walked about. From a distance they seemed to be of enormous size, and
until we were near by they appeared coal-black. Finally they became
restive, ran back and forth a few steps and then, beating the air
with laborious strokes of the wings, flew away. Frequently, on other
occasions, they circled around a few times before departing from the
locality.
We returned to camp by way of the sedge marshes, although, on account
of the bushes and shallow water, poling the boat through the tangle
was hard work. In the tops of many of the bushes were immense nests,
built of sticks and reed-stems; they apparently belonged to the giant
coots, as many of these birds still used them for resting-places; also,
nearly all of the platforms were piled with dead frogs which the coots
had disembowelled. Our man said that during the months of December and
January all the people living near the lagoons camp on the edge of the
water and collect eggs; they gather immense numbers and take them to
the markets of the neighboring towns to sell.
There were ducks everywhere, feeding or playing among the sedges, and
flocks coming from the surrounding sloughs whistled past constantly and
plumped down with a splash. Black-headed gulls flew back and forth
overhead, and cormorants stood on snags, drying their outstretched
wings. To shoot birds under such circumstances would be mere slaughter,
and the number one could kill is limited only by the amount of
ammunition at hand. The natives kill four or five hundred ducks each
day during this season, and have done so for years, but the number of
birds does not seem to diminish.
There were also numbers of noisy stilt-sandpipers, storks, and
screamers, and occasionally we ran across a pectoral sandpiper which,
as at Tafí, was so fat that it did not attempt to fly and could be
caught by throwing a hat over it. Lapwings, too, passed over in small
bunches, screaming and quarrelling as they went.
Nearly all the ducks were feeding on the small seeds of the
water-plants, and were rolling in fat; but on several occasions we ran
into small flocks of shovellers and teals which were near the bank and
refused to fly; an examination of several of them showed that they were
very light and probably diseased.
As we neared the landing, dusk was just enveloping the landscape.
Red-breasted meadow-larks sang in the desert, yellow-shouldered
blackbirds babbled in the thick reeds, and black ibises in flocks of
many thousands were returning from their feeding-grounds miles away, to
spend the night in the marshes.
We desired our birds principally for scientific purposes; that is, to
prepare the skins for museum specimens, and had shot only a limited
number of the best-plumaged individuals of each species; but even then
our bag amounted to over half a hundred ducks, a number of geese and
swans, and a fairly good collection of coots, grebes, herons, and other
birds typical of the vast Argentine lake region.
The preparation of all this material presented a stupendous task.
First they were cleaned thoroughly of all spots, then hung up in a
safe place, where they remained in good condition on account of the
cold. The days that followed were so stormy that outdoor work was
impossible, so we were glad to remain in the tent disposing of the work
in hand.
When the weather cleared we took other boat-trips through the marshes
and out into the lake, but our bag was always limited to things we did
not possess or needed for food. The geese were leaving in small flocks
to breed in the high Andes, the natives said. Swans also started to
drift southward; but still the number of remaining water-fowl, mostly
ducks and coots that did not migrate, was incalculable. The water was
constantly ruffled by the myriad of moving forms and, at times, the
roar of rapidly beating wings reminded us of distant thunder.
The few people living in widely separated hovels around the borders of
the lake lead miserable lives. They cultivate small areas in grain, but
live mostly on fish, water-birds, and goat’s milk. The winter season is
most trying. Snow falls infrequently and in small quantities, but the
cold is intense. The dust-storms, however, are the real tribulations
which render life well-nigh unbearable. They frequently last many days
at a time; the fine sand sifts through and into everything and is
almost suffocating. One breathes it, eats it, wakes up in the morning
covered with a layer, and lives in it continuously as in a thick, brown
haze that is most exasperating and invites almost constant profanity,
at least in thought. We were glad we visited Media Agua; but we were
glad indeed when we found ourselves back in San Juan.
It requires but four hours to reach Mendoza from San Juan by train.
This attractive city is really in the heart of the wine country, but
the vineyards were almost depleted from the inroads of an insect called
the _bicho de cesto_. The vegetation all about was covered with small,
ragged cocoons from which the hungry hordes of destructive creatures
would emerge in the spring. In places wide areas of weeds had been
burned over to destroy the pest while still in the incipient stage; but
enough always escaped to undo the work of the few careful growers who
attempted to stamp out their enemy of the grape-vines. The slaughter
of birds on a vast scale may account for the increase of the _bicho
de cesto_. We saw vendors on the streets carrying baskets full of
small birds of several species--mostly sparrows--which they sold by
the dozen. The number killed weekly must run into the thousands. As a
natural result of this wholesale killing, birds are not plentiful in
the environs of Mendoza.
From the outskirts of the city one has a superb view of the Andean
Range. The lofty mountains extend in an unbroken, snow-capped line as
far as the eye can see. Aconcagua, the peer of the Argentine Andes, may
be seen from a point several miles south of Mendoza, lording over his
lesser satellites in a majestic, awe-inspiring way. The shifting mists,
cloud-banks, and intermittent sunlight playing on the white peaks
present an ever-varying series of pictures that are unexcelled for
beauty and grandeur.
At Mendoza we met an Italian who claimed to be the champion
condor-hunter of all South America. During his ten years of collecting
he had killed more than sixteen thousand of the magnificent birds. His
record for one day was one hundred and fourteen. Naturally, they had
become greatly reduced in numbers, for the condor lays but a single egg
and it takes many months to rear the young. His method was to drive a
burro to some lonely gorge among the bleak mountain-tops favored by the
birds, and then to kill the animal. He was very particular in stating
that the burro had to be fat--a poor one would not do for bait. He then
spread nets about the carcass, and when the condors gathered about to
feast he pulled a rope and ensnared them; on one occasion he trapped
sixty-seven at one throw of the net. The prisoners were despatched with
a club and the long wing-feathers extracted to be exported to France to
decorate women’s hats. Formerly he had received about twenty _pesos_
per bird. With his accumulated wealth he built a powder-mill; this
promptly blew up, so he was again practically penniless. Of course
there were still condors in the mountains--in fact, he knew of a ledge
where upward of eight hundred congregated to spend the nights, but the
price of feathers had gone down fifty per cent on account of the war.
He ended his speech in a very dramatic manner: “What,” he said, “me go
out and slaughter such a wonderful, magnificent, and rare bird as the
condor _for ten pesos each_? No, señor! Not me.”
About the only animal that was abundant near Mendoza was the
jack-rabbit, introduced into the Argentine some forty years ago. It has
increased to such an extent as to be harmful, and has spread over the
entire southern part of the plains country. Many are killed and sold in
the markets under the name _liebre_.
We met Doctor Chapman at Mendoza. He had come from Chile over the
Trans-Andean Railroad. A wire had been sent us to join him at Santiago,
but it arrived three weeks too late to be of any service. After a
few days spent in taking photographs of the country and collecting
accessories for a habitat group of the rhea, we started eastward to
Buenos Aires.
We left Mendoza at one o’clock P. M., September 3. At first there was
a seemingly endless succession of vineyards; then a vast expanse of
arid country more barren even than the desert of Santiago del Estero.
At midnight we left the parched plains and entered the fertile wheat
and grazing lands which constitute one of Argentina’s chief sources
of wealth and justly entitle that country to rank among the producing
and great nations of the New World. Commodious ranch-houses standing
in fields where thousands of head of live stock grazed were passed in
steady succession. In some of the pastures hundreds of half-tamed rheas
fed unconcernedly among the horses and cattle. Frequently we saw flocks
of snowy gulls following a plough or resting in a bunch on the ground;
lapwings circled about with angry screams, and ducks swam unconcernedly
in the little sloughs beside the railroad. There were also rows of
solemn, sedate storks, gravely contemplating the train as it passed,
and flamingoes dabbling for mollusks in shallow pools.
After a continuous ride of twenty-five hours we reached Buenos Aires,
and two weeks later the _Amazon_ of the Royal Mail Line was speeding us
homeward.
I am writing these last few pages in an aviation concentration-camp
awaiting orders to go to new lands, and new and possibly far more
exciting experiences; but almost daily my thoughts go back to the great
wonderland that lies south of us, and which I have learned to love.
Speed the day when I may again eagerly scan the horizon for a first,
faint tinge of its palm-fringed shore-line!
INDEX
agriculture
of Argentina, 390, 412
of Bolivia, 287, 321, 326, 337
of Colombia, 13, 42, 76–7, 108, 112
of Peru, 270
Andes. _See_ mountains
Angostura, 142
animals
of Argentina, 391, 401, 404 _ff._
of Bolivia, 285, 289, 293, 296, 299, 308, 377
of Brazil, 224, 238, 246, 249
of Colombia, 6, 13, 36, 38, 44, 51–2, 56, 88–9, 101–3, 111,
115, 118, 127
of Paraguay, 202, 206, 209–13, 215
of Venezuela, 151, 167, 175–6
ant-eater, 118, 215
Antioquia, 113, 121
ants, 99, 118, 133, 235, 258, 261, 317, 381
Arauca, 148
Arequipa, 268
armadillo, 211
Asuncion, 199
Atures Cataract, 152, 154
Aymará Indians, 273
bat, 101, 209, 289, 299
_beena_, 186
beverages:
_chicha_, 286;
_somo_, 337;
_yerba maté_, 202, 394
birds
of Argentina, 365, 368 _ff._, 373, 375 _ff._, 379 _f._, 384, 387,
391, 397, 407, 417 _ff._
of Bolivia, 282, 284, 288, 291, 293, 297–8, 309, 314, 326–7, 330,
338, 344 _ff._, 353, 359
of Brazil, 247, 250, 256, 259, 261
of Colombia, 6, 13, 20, 31 _f._, 36, 42, 48, 50, 57, 59, 71, 77, 81,
88, 97 _f._, 103, 108 _f._, 111, 113, 117, 125, 128 _f._, 132,
134 _ff._
of Paraguay, 199, 201, 207, 213, 217, 221
of Venezuela, 157, 161, 170, 174, 183, 189, 191
boa-constrictor, 403
Buenaventura, 3, 110
Buenos Aires, 198
Buriticá, 122
bushmaster, 72, 133, 308
Cabulla, 76
cacao, 42
cactus, 329
Caicara, 147
Calama, 261 _ff._
Caldas, 6
Cali, 10 _ff._
Callao, 266
Caquetá, 92 _ff._
Carretia Falls, 158
Cartago, 47
cassava, 159
Catañapo River, 153
catfish, 117, 151
Cauca, 12, 40 _ff._, 116
Caura, 146 _f._
Cerro do Norte, 236
Cerro Munchique, 29
Cerro Torra, 70
Chaco, 378 _f._;
Gran Chaco, 203
_chicha_, 286
Chilón, 329
Chimoré River, 311 _ff._
Chocó, 64
Cisneros, 5, 110
Ciudad Bolivar, 142
climate
of Argentina, 381, 399, 421
of Bolivia, 288, 324
of Colombia, 3, 8, 21, 54, 61–3, 64, 80, 83, 94
of Venezuela, 176, 185, 190
coca, 287
Cochabamba, 279
cock-of-the-rock, 89 _ff._
Comarapa, 330 _f._
Commemoração River, 249
Cordillera Occidental, 8
Corumbá, 208
crocodile, 215
Cuchicancha, 281 _ff._
Cuña Indians, 131
Cunucunuma River, 171
customs. _See_ Indians
Dagua River, 5
“death-doctor,” 274
dress, native, 25
El Carmen, 8
Embarcacion, 378
Essiquibo River, 181
fer-de-lance, 236, 309
fish
of Bolivia, 294
of Brazil, 262
of Colombia, 117
of Paraguay, 205
of Venezuela, 151, 164, 171
catfish, 117, 151
method of fishing, 117, 154, 164
_piranha_, 164
_pirarucú_, 262
_pacu_, 117
food, native, 76
fruit-culture, 390
funeral customs, 68
Georgetown, 180
gold, 187, 190
government
abolition of slavery, 295
dishonesty of, 163
Gran Chaco, 203
Guajibo Indians, 150;
Rapids, 155
Guaviare River, 162
Guiana, 180–193
Gy-Paraná. _See_ Paraná
Hávita, 67
Huitoto Indians, 101
Iguana. _See_ reptiles
Inca civilization, 355 _ff._
Indians, customs:
(_beena_), 186;
(dances), 229, 257;
(“death-doctor”), 274;
(dress), 25;
(festival of San Juan), 100;
(friendly offerings), 252;
(funeral), 68;
(marriage), 93;
(religion), 28, 322
tribes:
Aymará, 273;
Cuña, 131;
Guajibo, 150;
Huitoto, 101;
Maquiritare, 172–3;
Mundrucu, 262;
Nhambiquara, 232 _ff._;
Parecís, 228;
Parintintin, 262;
Patamona, 185 _ff._;
Piaroa, 159;
Quechua, 277, 281, 321, 347, 356 _ff._;
Sirionó, 318;
Yuracaré, 295 (mission of), 300 _ff._
industries, 79, 147, 156, 169, 204
insects
of Argentina, 385, 421
of Bolivia, 291, 317
of Brazil, 235, 258, 261
of Colombia, 78, 80, 99, 118, 133
of Paraguay, 206, 219
of Venezuela, 192
ivory-nut, 108
jaguar, 102, 151, 167–8
jarepas, 76
Juntas de Tamaná, 68
Juruena, 231–4
Kaieteur Falls, 187
Laguneta, 49 _ff._
language
of Bolivia, 340
of Paraguay, 202
Lao River, 168
La Paz, 270–3
Lima, 266
Maipures, 154, 156
maize, 112
Malina, 107 f.
Maquiritare Indians, 172
marriage customs, 93
_maté_. _See_ _yerba maté_
Matto Grosso, 223 _ff._
Medellin, 110
Mendoza, 421
Meta, 150
Minnehaha Creek, 187, 190
Mizque, 326 _f._
Mollendo, 267
money, 7, 73
monkey, 175, 210, 246, 249, 293, 296, 314;
howling, 44;
bridges of, 115
Monte Christo, 255
mosquito, 206, 192
mountains:
Cerro Munchique, 29;
Cerro Torra, 70;
Cordillera Occidental, 9;
Huana Potosi, 271;
Illimani, 271;
Mount Saint Ignacio, 19;
Murarata, 271;
Nevada del Tolima, 54;
Paramillo, 120;
Purace, 19, 22;
Sotará, 23
Mundrucu Indians, 262
native. _See_ Indian
negroes, 187
Nevada del Tolima, 54
Nhambiquara Indians, 232 _ff._
Novitá, 64, 71
Orinoco River, 141–179
_pacu_, 117
Panama hats, manufacture of, 79
Papagayo Falls, 228
Papayán, 23 _ff._
Paramillo, 120
_páramo_, 58
Paraná River, 240
Parecís Indians, 228
Parintintin Indians, 262
Patamona Indians, 185 _ff._
Perico, 372 _f._
Perrico, 152
Peru, 265 _ff._
Piaroa Indians, 159
Pilcomayo River, 203, 350 _ff._
_piranha_, 164, 205, 262
_pirarucú_, 262
plants
of Bolivia, 294, 297, 315, 317, 324, 329, 338
of Brazil, 243, 249
of Colombia, 8, 30, 47, 57–9, 78, 81, 101, 108, 111, 125
of Venezuela, 157, 170, 180, 182
Porto Gallileo, 204
Purace, 19, 22
Quechua Indians, 277, 281, 321, 347, 356 _ff._
raccoon, 285
rapids:
Atures, 152, 154;
Guajibo, 155;
Maipures, 154;
San Borja, 152;
São Feliz, 256
rat, 224;
cone-rat, 308;
coypu-rat, 390–1
reproduction, rate of, in tropics, 245–6
reptiles, size of, 195–7
of Argentina, 403
of Bolivia, 307–8
of Brazil, 236, 262
of Colombia, 36, 72, 88, 133
of Paraguay, 215
of Venezuela, 160
rice, 390, 393
Rio de Janeiro, 194 _ff._
Rio Grande, 342 _f._
rivers:
Arauca, 148;
Catañapo, 153;
Cauca, 12, 40 _f._, 116;
Chimoré, 311 _f._;
Commemoração, 249;
Cunucunuma, 171;
Dagua, 5;
Essiquibo, 181;
Guaviare, 162;
Hávita, 67;
Lao, 168;
Meta, 150;
River of Doubt, 198;
Orinoco, 141 _ff._;
Paraná, 240;
Pilcomayo, 203;
Sacre, 228;
San Antonio, 291;
San Juan, 74 _f._;
Tamaná, 70;
Vichada, 159
rubber, 155, 169, 182, 254
Sacre River, 228
Saint Ignacio, 19
Salavery, 266
Salencio, 65
Salta, 367
Salvajito, 154
San Agustin, 85
San Antonio River, 291
San Borja Rapids, 152
San Cocho, 76
San Fernando de Atabapo, 157, 162
San Jorge Rapids, 149
San Juan, 74 _f._;
feast of, 100
São Feliz Rapids, 256
Sirionó Indians, 318
sloth, 88
Sotará, 23
Sucre, 346 _ff._
sugar, 13
Tamaná, 70
tannin, 204
Tapirapoan, 223
Tarabuco, 346
Tiahuanaco, 270
Titicaca Lake, 269
Todos Santos, 295
tonca-bean, 147
torture. _See_ _beena_
Totora, 328
Treasure Rock, 149
tribes. _See_ Indians
Trinidad, 200
Tucuman, 382 _f._
Tumatumari, 182
turtle, 151, 166
Urucúm, 209
Vagre, 152
Valdivia, 114
Valle de las Papas, 80
Vermejo, 337 _ff._
Vichada River, 159
vineyards, 412
vizcacha, 401;
hunting of, 405 _ff._
Volcan, 373 _f._
wasps, 219
Yarumal, 113
_yerba maté_, 202, 394
Yungas, 287–291
Yuracaré Indians, 295;
mission to, 300 _ff._
Zamuro, 153
[Illustration: Routes taken by the author in his South American
explorations.]
Transcriber’s Notes
Punctuation, hyphenation, and spelling were made consistent when a
predominant preference was found in the original book; otherwise they
were not changed.
Simple typographical errors were corrected; unbalanced quotation
marks were remedied when the change was obvious, and otherwise left
unbalanced.
Illustrations in this eBook have been positioned between paragraphs
and outside quotations. In versions of this eBook that support
hyperlinks, the page references in the List of Illustrations lead to
the corresponding illustrations.
The illustration on the Copyright page is the publisher’s logo.
The original text omitted accent marks from many Spanish words.
The index was not checked for proper alphabetization or correct page
references.
Page 138: “Señor Cspinas” was printed that way.
Page 316: “influences, and had” was printed that way.
End of Project Gutenberg's In the Wilds of South America, by Leo E. Miller