Having now related the principal events which I witnessed, or in which I
was an actor, both in California and in Texas, as these countries are
still new and but little known (for, indeed, the Texans themselves know
nothing of their inland country), I will attempt a topographical sketch
of these regions, and also make some remarks upon the animals which
inhabit the immense prairies and mountains of the wilderness.
Along the shores of the Pacific Ocean, from the 42° down to the 34°
North, the climate is much the same; the only difference between the
winter and summer being that the nights of the former season are a
little chilly. The causes of this mildness in the temperature are
obvious. The cold winds of the north, rendered sharper still by passing
over the snows and ices of the great northern lakes, cannot force their
passage across the rocky chain south of the latitude 44° N., being
prevented by a belt of high mountains or by impenetrable forests. To the
eastward, on the contrary, they are felt very severely; not encountering
any kind of obstacles, they sweep their course to the very shores of the
Gulf of Mexico, so that in 26° N. latitude, on the southern boundaries
of Texas, winter is still winter; that is to say, fire is necessary in
the apartments during the month of January, and flannel and cloth
dresses are worn; while, on the contrary, the same month on the shores
of the Pacific, up to 40°, is mild enough to allow strangers from the
south, and even the Sandwich islanders, to wear their light nankeen
trowsers and gingham round-abouts.
There is also a wide difference between the two coasts of the continent
during summer. In Upper California and the Shoshone territory, although
the heat, from the rays of the sun, is intense, the temperature is so
cooled both by the mountain and sea-breeze, as never to raise the
mercury to more than 95° Fahrenheit, even in St. Diego, which lies
under the parallel of 32° 39'; while in the east, from 27° in South
Texas, and 30° at New Orleans, up to 49° upon Lake Superior, the mercury
rises to 100° every year, and frequently 105°, 107° in St Louis, in
Prairie du Chien, Green Bay, St. Anthony's Falls, and the Lake Superior.
The _résumé_ of this is simply that the climate of the western coast of
America is the finest in the world, with an air so pure, that during the
intense heat of summer a bullock, killed, cleansed, and cut into slices,
will keep for months without any salting nor smoking.
Another cause which contributes to render these countries healthy and
pleasant to live in is, that there are, properly speaking, no swamps,
marshes, nor bayous, as in the United States, and in the neighbourhood
of Acapulco and West Mexico. These lakes and bayous drying during
summer, and exposing to the rays of the sun millions of dead fish,
impregnate the atmosphere with miasma, generating typhus, yellow fever,
dysenteries, and pulmonary diseases.
If the reader will look over the map I have sketched of the Shoshone
country, he will perceive how well the land is watered; the lakes are
all transparent and deep, the rivers run upon a rocky bottom as well as
all the brooks and creeks, the waters of which are always cool and
plentiful. One more observation to convince the reader of the
superiority of the clime is, that, except a few ants in the forest,
there are no insects whatever to be found. No mosquitoes, no prairie
horse-flies, no beetles, except the ceconilla or large phosphoric fly of
California, and but very few worms and caterpillars; the consequence is,
that there are but two or three classes of the smaller species of
carnivorous birds; the large ones, such as the common and red-headed
vulture and crow, are very convenient, fulfilling the office of general
scavengers in the prairies, where every year thousands of wild cattle
die, either from fighting, or, when in the central deserts, from the
want of water. On the western coast, the aspect of the country, in
general, is gently diversified; the monotony of the prairies in the
interior being broken by _islands_ of fine timber, and now and then by
mountains projecting boldly from their bases. Near the sea-shore the
plains are intersected by various ridges of mountains, giving birth to
thousands of small rapid streams, which carry their cool and limpid
waters to the many tributaries of the sea, which are very numerous
between the mouth of the Calumet and Buonaventura. Near to the coast
lies a belt of lofty pines and shady odoriferous magnolias, which
extends in some places to the very beach and upon the high cliffs, under
which the shore is so bold that the largest man-of-war could sail
without danger. I remember to have once seen, above the bay of San
Francisco, the sailors of a Mexican brig sitting on the ends of their
topsail yards, and picking the flowers from the branches of the trees as
they glided by.
In that part of the country, which is intersected by mountains, the soil
is almost everywhere mineral, while the mountains themselves contain
rich mines of copper. I know of beds of gallena extending for more than
a hundred miles; and, in some tracts, magnesian earths cover an immense
portion of the higher ridges. Most of the sandy streams of the Shoshone
territory contain a great deal of gold-dust, which the Indians collect
twice a year and exchange away with the Mexicans, and also with the
Arrapahoes.
The principal streams containing gold are tributaries to the
Buonaventura, but there are many others emptying into small lakes of
volcanic formation. The mountains in the neighbourhood of the Colorado
of the West, and in the very country of the Arrapahoes, are full of
silver, and perhaps no people in the world can show a greater profusion
of this bright metal than these Indians.
The Shoshone territory is of modern formation, at least in comparison
with the more southern countries where the Cordillieres and the Andes
project to the very shores of the ocean. It is evident that the best
portion of the land, west of the Buonaventura, was first redeemed from
the sea by some terrible volcanic eruption. Until about two centuries
ago, or perhaps less, these subterranean fires have continued to
exercise their ravages, raising prairies into mountains, and sinking
mountains and forests many fathoms below the surface of the earth; their
sites now marked by lakes of clear and transparent water, frequently
impregnated with a slight, though not unpleasant, taste of sulphur;
while precious stones, such as topazes, sapphires, large blocks of
amethysts, are found every day in the sand and among the pebbles on
their borders.
In calm days I have often seen, at a few fathoms deep, the tops of pine
trees still standing in their natural perpendicular position. In the
southern streams are found emeralds of very fine water; opals also are
very frequently met with.
The formation of the rocks is in general basaltic, but white, black, and
green marble, red porphyry, jaspar, red and grey granite, abound east of
the Buonaventura. Quartz, upon some of the mountains near the sea-shore,
is found in immense blocks, and principally in that mountain range which
is designated in the map as the "Montagne du Monstre," at the foot of
which were dug up the remains of the huge Saurian lizard.
The greater portion of the country is, of course, prairie; these
prairies are covered with blue grass, muskeet grass, clovers, sweet
prairie hay, and the other grasses common to the east of the continent
of America. Here and there are scattered patches of plums of the
greengage kind, berries, and a peculiar kind of shrub oaks, never more
than five feet high, yet bearing a very large and sweet acorn; ranges of
hazel nuts will often extend thirty or forty miles, and are the abode of
millions of birds of the richest and deepest dyes.
Along the streams which glide through the prairies, there is a luxuriant
growth of noble timber, such as maple, magnolia, blue and green ash, red
oak, and cedar, around which climb vines loaded with grapes. Near the
sea-shores, the pine, both black and white, becomes exceedingly common,
while the smaller plains and hills are covered with that peculiar
species of the prickly pear upon which the cochineal insect feeds. All
round the extinguished volcano, and principally in the neighbourhood of
the hill Nanawa Ashta jueri è, the locality of our settlement upon the
banks of the Buonaventura, the bushes are covered with a very superior
quality of the vanilla bean.
The rivers and streams, as well as the lakes of the interior, abound
with fish; in the latter, the perch, trout, and carp are very common; in
the former, the salmon and white cat-fish, the soft-shelled tortoise,
the pearl oyster, the sea-perch (Lupus Maritimes), the ecrivisse, and
hundred families of the "crevette species," offer to the Indian a great
variety of delicate food for the winter. In the bays along the shore,
the mackarel and bonita, the turtle, and, unfortunately, the sharks, are
very numerous; while on the shelly beach, or the fissures of the rocks,
are to be found lobsters, and crabs of various sorts.
The whole country offers a vast field to the naturalist; the most common
birds of prey are the bald, the white-headed eagle, the black and the
grey, the falcon, the common hawk, the epervier, the black and
red-headed vulture, the raven and the crow. Among the granivorous, the
turkey, the wapo (a small kind of prairie ostrich), the golden and
common pheasant, the wild peacock, of a dull whitish colour, and the
guinea-fowl; these two last, which are very numerous, are not indigenous
to this part of the country, but about a century ago escaped from the
various missions of Upper California, at which they had been bred, and
since have propagated in incredible numbers; also the grouse, the
prairie hen, the partridge, the quail, the green parrot, the blackbird,
and many others which I cannot name, not knowing their generic
denomination. The water-fowls are plentiful, such as swans, geese, ducks
of many different species, and the Canadian geese with their long black
necks, which, from November to March, graze on the prairies in
thousands.
The quadrupeds are also much diversified. First in rank, among the
grazing animals, I may name the mustangs, or wild horses, which wander
in the natural pastures in herds of hundreds of thousands. They vary in
species and size, according to the country where they are found, but
those found in California, Sonora, and the western district of Texas,
are the finest breed in the world. They were imported from Andalusia by
the Spaniards, almost immediately after the conquest of Grenada, the
Bishop of Leon having previously, by his prayers, "exorcised the devil
out of their bodies."
Mr. Catlin says, that in seeing the Comanche horse, he was much
disappointed; it is likely, Mr. Catlin having only visited the northern
borders of Texas, and the poorest village of the whole Comanche tribe.
If, however, he had proceeded as far as the Rio Puerco, he would have
seen the true Mecca breed, with which the Moslems conquered Spain. He
would have also perceived how much the advantages of a beautiful clime
and perpetual pasture has improved these noble animals, making them
superior to the primitive stock, both in size, speed, and bottom. With
one of them I made a journey of five thousand miles, and on arriving in
Missouri, I sold him for eight hundred dollars. He was an entire horse,
as white as snow, and standing seventeen and a half hands high. One
thousand pounds would not have purchased him in England.
Next, the lordly buffaloes, the swift wild-goat, the deer, the antelope,
the elk, the prairie dogs, the hare, and the rabbits. The carnivorous
are the red panther, or puma[31], the spotted leopard, the ounce, the
jaguar, the grizzly black and brown bear, the wolf, black, white and
grey; the blue, red, and black fox, the badger, the porcupine, the
hedgehog, and the coati (an animal peculiar to the Shoshone territory,
and Upper California), a kind of mixture of the fox and wolf breed,
fierce little animals with bushy tails and large heads, and a quick,
sharp bark.
[Footnote 31: The puma, or red panther, is also called "American lion,
cougar," and in the western States, "catamount." It was once spread all
over the continent of America, and is even now found, although very
rarely, as far north as Hudson's Bay. No matter under what latitude, the
puma is a sanguinary animal; but his strength, size, and thirst of
blood, vary with the clime.
I have killed this animal in California, in the Rocky Mountains, in
Texas, and in Missouri; in each of these places it presented quite a
different character. In Chili it has the breadth and limbs approaching
to those of the African lion; to the far north, it falls away in bulk,
until it is as thin and agile as the hunting leopard. In Missouri and
Arkansas, the puma will prey chiefly upon fowls and young pigs; it will
run away from dogs, cows, horses, and even from goats. In Louisiana and
Texas it will run from man, but it fights the dogs, tears the horse, and
kills the cattle, even the wild buffalo, merely for sport. In the
Anahuar, Cordillieres, and Rocky Mountains, it disdains to fly, becomes
more majestic in its movements, and faces its opponents, from the
grizzly bear to a whole company of traders; yet it will seldom attack
unless when cubbing. In Sonora and California, it is even more
ferocious. When hungry, it will hunt by the scent, like the dog, with
its nose on the ground. Meeting a trail, it follows it at the rate of
twenty miles an hour, till it can pounce upon a prey; a single horseman,
or an army, a deer, or ten thousand buffaloes, it cares not, it attacks
everything.
I did not like to interrupt my narrative merely to relate a puma
adventure, but during the time that I was with the Comanches, a Mexican
priest, who had for a long time sojourned as instructor among the
Indians, arrived in the great village on his way to St. Louis, Mi.,
where he was proceeding on clerical affairs. The Comanches received him
with affection, gave him a fresh mule, with new blankets, and mustered a
small party to accompany him to the Wakoes Indians.
The Padre was a highly talented man, above the prejudices of his cast;
he had lived the best part of his life in the wilderness among the wild
tribes on both sides of the Anahuar, and had observed and learned enough
to make him love "these children of nature." So much was I pleased with
him, that I offered to command the party which was to accompany him. My
request was granted, and having provided ourselves with a long tent and
the necessary provisions, we started on our journey.
Nothing remarkable happened till we arrived at the great chasm I have
already mentioned, when, our provisions being much reduced, we pitched
the tent on the very edge of the chasm, and dedicated half a day to
hunting and grazing our horses. A few deer were killed, and to avoid a
nocturnal attack from the wolves, which were very numerous, we hung the
meat upon the cross-pole inside of the tent. The tent itself was about
forty feet long, and about seven in breadth; large fires were lighted at
the two ends, piles of wood were gathered to feed them during the night,
and an old Indian and I took upon us the responsibility of keeping the
fires alive till the moon should be up.
These arrangements being made, we spread our buffalo-hides, with our
saddles for pillows, and, as we were all exhausted, we stretched
ourselves, if not to sleep, at least to repose. The _padre_ amused me,
during the major portion of my watch, in relating to me his past
adventures, when he followed the example of all the Indians, who were
all sound asleep, except the one watching at the other extremity of the
tent. This Indian observed to me, that the moon would rise in a couple
of hours, and that, if we were to throw a sufficient quantity of fuel on
the fire, we could also sleep without any fear. I replenished the fuel,
and, wrapping myself in my blanket, I soon fell asleep.
I awoke suddenly, thinking I had heard a rubbing of some body against
the canvas outside of the tent. My fire was totally extinguished, but,
the moon having risen, gave considerable light. The hour of danger had
passed. As I raised my head, I perceived that the fire at the other
opening of the tent was also nearly extinguished; I wrapt myself still
closer, as the night had become cool, and soon slept as soundly
as before.
Once more I was awakened, but this time there was no delusion of the
senses, for I felt a heavy pressure on my chest. I opened my eyes, and
could scarcely refrain from crying out, when I perceived that the weight
which had thus disturbed my sleep was nothing less than the hind paw of
a large puma. There he stood, his back turned to me, and seeming to
watch with great avidity a deer-shoulder suspended above his head. My
feelings at that moment were anything but pleasant; I felt my heart
beating high; the smallest nervous movement, which perhaps I could not
control, would divert the attention of the animal, whose claws would
then immediately enter my flesh.
I advanced my right hand towards the holster, under my head, to take one
of my pistols, but the holsters were buttoned up, and I could not undo
them, as this would require a slight motion of my body. At last I felt
the weight sliding down my ribs till it left me; and I perceived, that
in order to take a better leap at the meat, the puma had moved on a
little to the left, but in so doing one of his fore paws rested upon the
chest of the _padre_. I then obtained one of the pistols, and was just
in the act of cocking it under my blanket, when I heard a mingled shriek
and roar. Then succeeded a terrible scuffling. A blanket was for a
second rolled over me; the canvas of the tent was burst open a foot
above me; I heard a heavy fall down the chasm; the _padre_ screamed
again; by accident I pulled the trigger and discharged my pistol; and
the Indians, not knowing what was the matter, gave a tremendous
war-whoop.
The scene I have described in so many lines was performed in a few
seconds. It was some time before we could recover our senses and inquire
into the matter. It appeared, that at the very moment the puma was
crouching to take his leap, the _padre_ awaking, gave the scream; this
terrified the animal, who dashed through the canvas of the tent above me
with the _padre's_ blanket entangled in his claws.
Poor _padre_! he had fainted, and continued senseless till daylight,
when I bled him with my penknife. Fear had produced a terrible effect
upon him, and his hair, which the evening before was as black as jet,
had now changed to the whiteness of snow. He never recovered,
notwithstanding the attention shown to him by the Indians who
accompanied him to St. Louis. Reason had forsaken its seat, and, as I
learned some time afterwards, when, being in St. Louis, I went to the
mission to inquire after him, he died two days after his arrival at the
Jesuits' college.
As to the puma, the Indians found it dead at the bottom of the chasm,
completely wrapped in the blanket, and with most of its bones broken.]
The amphibious are the beaver, the fresh-water and sea-otter, the
musk-rat, and a species of long lizard, with sharp teeth, very like the
cayman as regards the head and tail, but with a very short body. It is a
very fierce animal, killing whatever it attacks, dwelling in damp, shady
places, in the juncks, upon the borders of some lakes, and is much
dreaded by the Indians; fortunately, it is very scarce. The Shoshones
have no particular name for it, but would sooner attack a grizzly bear
than this animal, which they have a great dread of, sometimes calling it
the evil spirit, sometimes the scourge, and many other such
appellations. It has never yet been described by any naturalist, and I
never yet saw one dead, although I have heard of their having
been killed.
In Texas, the country presents two different aspects, much at variance
with each other, the eastern borders, and sea-coast being only a
continuation of the cypress swamps, mud creeks, and cane-brakes of south
Arkansas, and west Louisiana; while, on the contrary, the north and west
offer much the same topography as that of the countries I have just
delineated. The climate in Texas is very healthy two hundred miles from
the sea, and one hundred west of the Sabine, which forms the eastern
boundary of Texas; but to the east and south the same diseases and
epidemics prevail as in Louisiana, Alabama, and the Floridas.
The whole of Texas is evidently of recent formation, all the saline
prairies east of the Rio Grande being even now covered with shells of
all the species common to the Gulf of Mexico, mixed up with skeletons of
sharks, and now and then with petrified turtle, dolphin, rock fish, and
bonitas. A few feet below the surface, and hundreds of miles distant
from the sea, the sea-sand is found; and although the ground seems to
rise gradually as it recedes from the shores, the southern plains are
but a very little elevated above the surface of the sea until you arrive
at thirty degrees north, when the prairies begin to assume an undulating
form, and continually ascend till, at the foot of the Rocky Mountains,
they acquire a height of four and five thousand feet above the level
of the sea.
Texas does not possess any range of mountains with the exception that,
one hundred miles north from San Antonio de Bejar, the San Seba hills
rise and extend themselves in a line parallel with the Rocky Mountains,
as high as the green peaks in the neighbourhood of Santa Fé. The San
Seba hills contain several mines of silver, and I doubt not that this
metal is very common along the whole range east of the Rio Grande. Gold
is also found in great quantities in all the streams tributary to the
Rio Puerco, but I have never heard of precious stones of any kind.
Excepting the woody districts which border Louisiana and Arkansas, the
greater proportion of Texas is prairie; a belt of land commences upon
one of the bends of the river Brasos, spreads northward to the very
shores of the Red River, and is called by the Americans "The Cross
Timbers;" its natural productions, together with those of the prairies,
are similar to those of the Shoshone country. Before the year 1836, and
I dare say even now, the great western prairies of Texas contained more
animals and a greater variety of species than any other part of the
world within the same number of square miles; and I believe that the
Sunderbunds in Bengal do not contain monsters more hideous and terrible
than are to be found in the eastern portion of Texas, over which nature
appears to have spread a malediction. The myriads of snakes of all
kinds, the unaccountable diversity of venomous reptiles, and even the
deadly tarantula spider or "vampire" of the prairies, are trifles,
compared with the awful inhabitants of the eastern bogs swamps, and
muddy rivers. The former are really dangerous only during two or three
months of the year, and, moreover, a considerable portion of the trails
are free from their presence, owing to the fires which break out in the
dry grass almost every fall. There the traveller knows what he has to
fear, and, independent of the instinct and knowledge of his horse, he
himself keeps an anxious look-out, watching the undulating motion of the
grass, and ever ready with his rifle or pistols in the event of his
being confronted with bears, pumas, or any other ferocious quadruped. If
he is attacked, he can fight, and only few accidents have ever happened
in these encounters, as these animals always wander alone with the
exception of the wolf, from whom, however, there is but little to fear,
as, in the prairies, this animal is always glutted with food and timid
at the approach of man.
As the prairie wolf is entirely different from the European, I will
borrow a page of Ross Cox, who, having had an opportunity of meeting it,
gives a very good description of its manners and ways of living. Yet as
this traveller does not describe the animal itself, I will add, that the
general colour of the prairie wolf is grey mixed with black, the ears
are round and straight, it is about forty inches long, and possesses the
sagacity and cunning of the fox.
"The prairie wolves," says Cox, "are much smaller than those which
inhabit the woods. They generally travel together in numbers, and a
solitary one is seldom met with. Two or three of us have often pursued
from fifty to one hundred, driving them before us as quickly as our
horses could charge.
"Their skins are of no value, and we do not therefore waste much powder
and ball in shooting them. The Indians, who are obliged to pay dear for
their ammunition, are equally careful not to throw it away on objects
that bring no remunerating value. The natural consequence is, that the
wolves are allowed to multiply; and some parts of the country are
completely overrun by them. The Indians catch numbers of them in traps,
which they set in the vicinity of those places where their tame horses
are sent to graze. The traps are merely excavations covered over with
slight switches and hay, and baited with meat, &c., into which the
wolves fall, and being unable to extricate themselves, they perish by
famine or the knife of the Indian. These destructive animals annually
destroy numbers of horses, particularly during the winter season, when
the latter get entangled in the snow, in which situation they become an
easy prey to their light-footed pursuers, ten or fifteen of which will
often fasten on one animal, and with their long fangs in a few minutes
separate the head from the body. If, however, the horses are not
prevented from using their legs, they sometimes punish the enemy
severely; as an instance of this, I saw one morning the bodies of two of
our horses which had been killed the night before, and around were lying
eight dead and maimed wolves; some with their brains scattered about,
and others with their limbs and ribs broken by the hoofs of the furious
animals in their vain attempts to escape from their assailants."
Although the wolves of America are the most daring of all the beasts of
prey on that continent, they are by no means so courageous or ferocious
as those of Europe, particularly in Spain or the south of France, in
which countries they commit dreadful ravages both on man and beast;
whereas a prairie wolf, except forced by desperation, will seldom or
never attack a human being.
I have said that the danger that attends the traveller in the great
prairies is trifling; but it is very different in the eastern swamps and
mud-holes, where the enemy, ever on the watch, is also always invisible,
and where the speed of the horse and the arms of the rider are of no
avail, for they are then swimming in the deep water, or splashing,
breast-deep, in the foul mud.
Among these monsters of the swamps and lagoons of stagnant waters, the
alligator ranks the first in size and voracity; yet man has nothing to
fear from him; and though there are many stories among the cotton
planters about negroes being carried away by this immense reptile, I do
firmly believe that few human beings have ever been seized alive by the
American alligator. But although harmless to man, the monster is a
scourge to all kinds of animals, and principally to dogs and horses. It
often happens that a rider loses his track through a swamp or a muddy
cane-brake, and then, if a new comer in East Texas, he is indubitably
lost. While his poor steed is vainly struggling in a yielding mass of
mud, he will fall into a hole, and before he can regain his footing, an
irresistible force will drag him deeper and deeper, till smothered. This
force is the tail of the alligator, with which this animal masters its
prey, no matter how strong or heavy, when once within its reach. M.
Audubon has perfectly described its power: I will repeat his words:--
"The power of the alligator is in its great strength, and the chief
means of its attack or defence is its large tail, so well contrived by
nature to supply his wants, or guard him from danger, that it reaches,
when curved into a half-circle, to his enormous mouth. Woe be to him who
goes within the reach of this tremendous thrashing instrument; for, no
matter how strong or muscular, if human, he must suffer greatly, if he
escape with life. The monster, as he strikes with this, forces all
objects within the circle towards his jaws, which, as the tail makes a
motion, are opened to their full stretch, thrown a little sideways to
receive the object, and, like battering-rams, to bruise it shockingly in
a moment."
Yet, as I have said, the alligator is but little formidable to man. In
Western Louisiana and Eastern Texas, where the animal is much hunted for
the sake of his grease, with which the planters generally oil the
machinery of their mills, little negroes are generally sent into the
woods, during the fall, "grease-making," as at that season the men are
better employed in cotton-picking or storing the maize. No danger ever
happens to the urchins during these expeditions, as, keeping within the
sweep of the tail, they contrive to chop it off with an axe.
M. Audubon says:--
"When autumn has heightened the colouring of the foliage of our woods,
and the air feels more rarified during the nights and the early part of
the day, the alligators leave the lakes to seek for winter-quarters, by
burrowing under the roots of trees, or covering themselves simply with
earth along their edges. They become then very languid and inactive,
and, at this period, to sit or ride on one would not be more difficult
than for a child to mount his wooden rocking-horse. The negroes, who now
kill them, put all danger aside by separating at one blow with an axe,
the tail from the body. They are afterwards cut up in large pieces, and
boiled whole in a good quantity of water, from the surface of which the
fat is collected with large ladles. One single man kills oftentimes a
dozen or more of large alligators in the evening, prepares his fire in
the woods, where he has erected a camp for the purpose, and by morning
has the oil extracted."
As soon as the rider feels his horse sinking, the first movement, if an
inexperienced traveller, is to throw himself from the saddle, and
endeavour to wade or to swim to the cane-brakes, the roots of which give
to the ground a certain degree of stability. In that case, his fate is
probably sealed, as he is in immediate danger of the "cawana." This is a
terrible and hideous monster, with which, strange to say, the
naturalists of Europe are not yet acquainted, though it is too well
known to all the inhabitants of the streams and lagoons tributary to the
Red River. It is an enormous turtle or tortoise, with the head and tail
of the alligator, not retractile, as is usual among the different
species of this reptile: the shell is one inch and a half thick, and as
impenetrable as steel. It lies in holes in the bottom of muddy rivers or
in the swampy cane-brakes, and measures often ten feet in length and six
in breadth over the shell, independent of the head and tail, which must
give often to this dreadful monster the length of twenty feet. Such an
unwieldy mass is not, of course, capable of any rapid motion; but in the
swamps I mention they are very numerous, and the unfortunate man or
beast going astray, and leaving for a moment the small patches of solid
ground, formed by the thicker clusters of the canes, must of a necessity
come within the reach of one of these powerful creature's jaws, always
extended and ready for prey.
Cawanas of a large size have never been taken alive, though often, in
draining the lagoons, shells have been found measuring twelve feet in
length. The planters of Upper Western Louisiana have often fished to
procure them for scientific acquaintances, but, although they take
hundreds of the smaller ones, they could never succeed to drag on shore
any of the large ones after they have been hooked, as these monsters
bury their claws, head, and tail so deep in the mud, that no power short
of steam can make them relinquish their hold.
Some officers of the United States army and land surveyors, sent on the
Red River by the government at Washington for a month, took up their
residence at Captain Finn's. One day, when the conversation had fallen
upon the cawana, it was resolved that a trial should be made to
ascertain the strength of the animal. A heavy iron hand-pike was
transformed by a blacksmith into a large hook, which was fixed to an
iron chain belonging to the anchor of a small-boat, and as that
extraordinary fishing-tackle was not of a sufficient length, they added
to it a hawser, forty fathoms in length and of the size of a woman's
wrist. The hook was baited with a lamb a few days old, and thrown into a
deep hole ten yards from the shore, where Captain Finn knew that one of
the monsters was located; the extremity of the hawser was made fast to
an old cotton-tree.
Late in the evening of the second day, and as the rain poured down in
torrents, a negro slave ran to the house to announce that the bait had
been taken, and every one rushed to the river side. They saw that, in
fact, the hawser was in a state of tension, but the weather being too
bad to do anything that evening, they put it off till the next morning.
A stout horse was procured, who soon dragged the hawser from the water
till the chain became visible, but all further attempts of the animal
were in vain; after the most strenuous exertion, the horse could not
conquer the resistance or gain a single inch. The visitors were puzzled,
and Finn then ordered one of the negroes to bring a couple of powerful
oxen, yoked to a gill, employed to drag out the stumps of old trees. For
many minutes the oxen were lashed and goaded in vain; every yarn of the
hawser was strained to the utmost, till, at last, the two brutes,
uniting all their strength in one vigorous and final pull, it was
dragged from the water, but the monster had escaped. The hook had
straightened, and to its barb were attached pieces of thick bones and
cartilages, which must have belonged to the palate of the monster.
The unfortunate traveller has but little chance of escaping with life,
if, from want of experience, he is foundered in the swampy canebrakes.
When the horse sinks and the rider leaves the saddle, the only thing he
can do is to return back upon his track; but let him beware of these
solitary small patches of briars, generally three or four yards in
circumference, which are spread here and there on the edges of the
canebrakes, for there he will meet with deadly reptiles and snakes
unknown in the prairies; such as the grey-ringed water mocassin, the
brown viper, the black congo with red head and the copper head, all of
whom congregate and it may be said make their nests in these little dry
oases, and their bite is followed by instantaneous death.
These are the dangers attending travellers in the swamps, but there are
many others to be undergone in crossing lagoons, rivers, or small lakes.
All the streams, tributaries of the Sabine and of the Red River below
the great bend (which is twenty miles north of the Lost Prairie), have
swampy banks and muddy bottoms, and are impassable when the water is too
low to permit the horses to swim. Some of these streams have ferries,
and some lagoons have floating bridges in the neighbourhood of the
plantations; but as it is a new country, where government has as yet
done nothing, these conveniences are private property, and the owner of
a ferry, not being bound by a contract, ferries only when he chooses and
at the price he wishes to command.
I will relate a circumstance which will enable the reader to understand
the nature of the country, and the difficulties of overland travelling
in Texas. The great Sulphur Fork is a tributary of the Red River, and it
is one of the most dangerous. Its approach can only be made on both
sides through belts of swampy canebrakes, ten miles in breadth, and so
difficult to travel over, that the length of the two swamps, short as it
is, cannot be passed by a fresh and strong horse in less than fourteen
hours. At just half-way of this painful journey the river is to be
passed, and this cannot be done without a ferry, for the moment you
leave the canes, the shallow water begins, and the bottom is so soft,
that any object touching it must sink to a depth of several fathoms.
Till 1834, no white man lived in that district, and the Indians resorted
to it only during the shooting season, always on foot and invariably
provided with half-a-dozen of canoes on each side of the stream for
their own use or for the benefit of travellers. The Texans are not so
provident nor so hospitable.
As the white population increased in that part of the country, a man of
the name of Gibson erected a hut on the southern bank of the stream,
constructed a flat-boat, and began ferrying over at the rate of three
dollars a head. As the immigration was very extensive, Gibson soon grew
independent, and he entered into a kind of partnership with the free
bands which were already organized. One day, about noon, a land
speculator presented himself on the other side of the river, and called
for the ferry. At that moment the sky was covered with dark and heavy
clouds, and flashes of lightning succeeded each other in every
direction; in fact, everything proved that the evening would not pass
without one of those dreadful storms so common in that country during
the months of April and May. Gibson soon appeared in his boat, but
instead of casting it loose, he entered into a conversation.
"Where do you come from, eh?"
"From the settlements," answered the stranger.
"You've a ticklish, muddish kind of river to pass."
"Aye," replied the other, who was fully aware of it.
"And a blackish, thunderish, damned storm behind you, I say."
The traveller knew that too, and as he believed that the conversation
could as well be carried on while crossing over, he added:
"Make haste, I pray, my good man; I am in a hurry, and I should not like
to pass the night here in these canes for a hundred dollars."
"Nor I, for a thousand," answered Gibson. "Well, stranger, what will you
give me to ferry you over?"
"The usual fare, I suppose--two or three dollars."
"Why, that may do for a poor man in fine weather, and having plenty of
time to spare, but I be blessed if I take you for ten times that money
now that you are in so great a hurry and have such a storm behind."
The traveller knew at once he had to deal with a blackguard, but as he
was himself an Arkansas man of the genuine breed, he resolved to give
him a "Roland for an Oliver."
"It is a shameful imposition," he cried; "how much do you want after
all?"
"Why, not a cent less than fifty dollars."
The stranger turned his horse round, as if he would go back; but, after
a few moments, he returned again.
"Oh," he cried, "you are a rogue, and take the opportunity of my being
in so great a hurry. I'll give you what you want, but mind I never will
pass this road again, and shall undoubtedly publish your conduct in the
Arkansas newspapers."
Gibson chuckled with delight; he had humbugged a stranger, and did not
care a fig for all the newspapers in the world; so he answered, "Welcome
to do what you please;" and, untying the boat, he soon crossed the
stream. Before allowing the stranger to enter the ferry, Gibson demanded
the money, which was given to him under the shape of five ten-dollar
notes, which he secured in his pocket, and then rowed with all
his might.
On arriving on the other side, the stranger led his horse out of the
boat, and while Gibson was stooping down to fix the chain, he gave him a
kick on the temple, which sent him reeling and senseless in his boat;
then taking back his own money, he sprung upon his saddle, and passing
before the cabin, he gently advised Gibson's wife to "go and see, for
her husband had hurt himself a little in rowing."
These extortions are so very frequent, and now so well known, that the
poorer classes of emigrants never apply for the ferries, but attempt the
passage just as they can, and when we call to mind that the hundreds of
cases which are known and spoken of must be but a fraction of those who
have disappeared without leaving behind the smallest clue of their
former existence and unhappy fate, the loss of human life within the
last four or five years must have been awful.
Besides the alligator and the cawana, there are in these rivers many
other destructive animals of a terrible appearance, such as the devil
jack diamond fish, the saw fish, the horn fish, and, above all, the much
dreaded gar. The first of these is often taken in summer in the lakes
and bayous, which, deprived of water for a season, are transformed into
pastures; these lakes, however, have always a channel or deeper part,
and there the devil jack diamond has been caught, weighing four hundred
pounds and upwards.
The saw fish is peculiar to the Mississippi and its tributaries, and
varies in length from four to eight feet. The horn fish is four feet
long, with a bony substance on his upper jaw, strong, curved, and one
foot long, which he employs to attack horses, oxen, and even alligators,
when pressed by hunger. But the gar fish is the most terrible among the
American ichthyology, and a Louisiana writer describes it in the
following manner:--
"Of the gar fish there are numerous varieties. The alligator gar is
sometimes ten feet long, and is voracious, fierce, and formidable, even
to the human species. Its dart in rapidity equals the flight of a bird;
its mouth is long, round, and pointed, thick set with sharp teeth; its
body is covered with scales so hard as to be impenetrable by a
rifle-bullet, and which, when dry, answers the purposes of a flint in
striking fire from steel; its weight is from fifty to four hundred
pounds, and its appearance is hideous; it is, in fact, the shark of
rivers, but more terrible than the shark of the sea, and is considered
far more formidable than the alligator himself."
It is, in fact, a most terrible animal. I have seen it more than once
seizing its prey, and dragging it down with the rapidity of an arrow.
One day while I was residing at Captain Finn's upon the Red River, I saw
one of these monsters enter a creek of transparent water. Following him
for curiosity, I soon perceived that he had not left the deep water
without an inducement, for just above me there was an alligator
devouring an otter.
As soon as the alligator perceived his formidable enemy, he thought of
nothing but escape to the shore; he dropped his prey and began to climb,
but he was too slow for the gar fish, who, with a single dart, closed
upon it with extended jaws, and seized it by the middle of the body. I
could see plainly through the transparent water, and yet I did not
perceive that the alligator made the least struggle to escape from the
deadly fangs; there was a hissing noise as that of shells and bones
crushed, and the gar fish left the creek with his victim in his jaws, so
nearly severed in two, that the head and tail were towing on each
side of him.
Besides these, the traveller through rivers and bayous has to fear many
other enemies of less note, and but little, if at all, known to
naturalists. Among these is the mud vampire, a kind of spider leech,
with sixteen short paws round a body of the form and size of the common
plate; the centre of the animal (which is black in any other part of the
body) has a dark vermilion round spot, from which dart a quantity of
black suckers, one inch and a half long, through which they extract the
blood of animals: and so rapid is the phlebotomy of this ugly reptile,
that though not weighing more than two ounces in its natural state, a
few minutes after it is stuck on, it will increase to the size of a
beaver hat, and weigh several pounds.
Thus leeched in a large stream, a horse will often faint before he can
reach the opposite shore, and he then becomes a prey to the gar fish; if
the stream is but small and the animal is not exhausted, he will run
madly to the shore and roll to get rid of his terrible blood-sucker,
which, however, will adhere to him, till one or the other of them dies
from exhaustion, or from repletion. In crossing the Eastern Texas
bayous, I used always to descend from my horse to look if the leeches
had stuck; the belly and the breast are the parts generally attacked,
and so tenacious are these mud vampires, that the only means of removing
them is to pass the blade of a knife under them and cut them off.
But let us leave these disgusting animals, and return to the upland
woods and prairies, where nature seems ever smiling, and where the
flowers, the birds, and harmless quadrupeds present to the eye a lively
and diversified spectacle. One of the prettiest _coups-d'oeil_ in the
world is to witness the gambols and amusements of a herd of horses, or a
flock of antelopes. No kitten is more playful than these beautiful
animals, when grazing undisturbed in the prairies; and yet those who,
like the Indian, have time and opportunity to investigate, will discover
vices in gregarious animals hitherto attributed solely to man.
It would appear that, even among animals, where there is a society,
there is a tyrant and paria. On board vessels, in a school, or any
where, if man is confined in space, there will always be some one
lording over the others, either by his mere brutal strength or by his
character; and, as a consequence, there is also another, who is spurned,
kicked, and beaten by his companions, a poor outcast, whom everybody
delights in insulting and trampling upon; it is the same among
gregarious brutes. Take a flock of buffaloes or horses, or of antelopes;
the first glance is always sufficient to detect the two contrasts. Two
of the animals will stand apart from the herd, one proudly looking
about, the other timid and cast down; and every minute some will leave
their grazing, go and show submission, and give a caress to the one, and
a kick or a bite to the other.
Such scenes I have often observed, and I have also witnessed the
consequence, which is, that the outcast eventually commits suicide,
another crime supposed to be practised only by reasoning creatures like
ourselves. I have seen horses, when tired of their prairie life, walk
round and round large trees, as if to ascertain the degree of hardness
required; they have then measured their distance, and darting with
furious speed against it, fractured their skull, and thus got rid of
life and oppression.
I remember a particular instance; it was at the settlement. I was yet a
boy, and during the hotter hours of the day, I used to take my books and
go with one of the missionaries to study near a torrent, under the cool
shade of a magnolia.¸
All the trees around us were filled with numerous republics of
squirrels, scampering and jumping from branch to branch, and, forgetful
of everything else, we would sometimes watch their sport for hours
together. Among them we had remarked one, who kept solitary between the
stems of an absynth shrub, not ten yards from our usual station. There
he would lie motionless for hours basking in the sun, till some other
squirrels would perceive him. Then they would jump upon him, biting and
scratching till they were tired, and the poor animal would offer no
resistance, and only give way to his grief by plaintive cries.
At this sight, the good padre did not lose the opportunity to inculcate
a lesson, and after he had finished speaking, he would strike his hands
together to terrify the assailants.
"Yes," observed I, using his own words, "it is nature."
"Alas! no," he would reply; "'tis too horrible to be nature; it is only
one of the numerous evils generated from society." The padre was a great
philosopher, and he was right.
One day, while we were watching this paria of a squirrel, we detected a
young one slowly creeping through the adjoining shrubs; he had in his
mouth a ripe fruit, a parcimon, if I remember right. At every moment he
would stop and look as if he were watched, just as if he feared
detection. At last he arrived near the paria, and deposited before him
his offering to misery and old age.
We watched this spectacle with feelings which I could not describe;
there was such a show of meek gratitude in the one and happiness in the
other, just as if he enjoyed his good action. They were, however,
perceived by the other squirrels, who sprang by dozens upon them; the
young one with two bounds escaped, the other submitted to his fate. I
rose, all the squirrels vanished except the victim; but that time,
contrary to his habits, he left the shrub and slowly advanced to the
bank of the river, and ascended a tree. A minute afterwards we observed
him at the very extremity of a branch projecting over the rapid waters,
and we heard his plaintive shriek. It was his farewell to life and
misery; he leaped into the middle of the current, which in a moment
carried him to the shallow water a little below.
In spite of his old age, the padre waded into the stream and rescued
the suicide. I took it home with me, fed it well, and in a short time
its hair had grown again thick and glossy. Although left quite free, the
poor animal never attempted to escape to the woods, and he had become so
tame, that every time I mounted my horse, he would jump upon me and
accompany me on my distant excursions. Eight or ten months afterwards he
was killed by a rattle-snake, who surprised him sleeping upon my
blanket, during one of our encampments.
THE END.