On the 1st of April, at sunrise, we quitted Señor Don Ignatio and
Señora Doña Isabella, his wife.... Beyond the Vuelta del Cochino
Roto, in a spot where the river has scooped itself a new bed, we
passed the night on a bare and very extensive beach. The forest being
impenetrable we had the greatest difficulty in finding dry wood to
light fires, near which the Indians believe themselves in safety from
the nocturnal attacks of the tiger. The night was calm and serene,
and there was a beautiful moonlight. The crocodiles, stretched along
the shore, placed themselves in such a manner as to be able to see
the light. We thought we saw that its blaze attracted them, as it
attracts crayfish, and other inhabitants of the water. The Indians
showed us the tracks of three tigers in the sand, two of which were
very young. A female had no doubt conducted her little ones to drink
at the river. Finding no tree on the strand, we stuck our oars in
the ground, and to these we fastened our hammocks. Everything
passed tranquilly till eleven at night, and then a noise so terrific
arose in the neighboring forest that it was almost impossible to
close our eyes. Amid the cries of so many wild beasts howling at
once, the Indians discriminated such only as were at intervals heard
separately. These were the soft little cries of the sapajous, the
moans of the alouate apes, the howlings of the jaguar and couguar,
the peccary, and the sloth, and the cries of the curassao, the
parraka, and other gallinaceous birds. When the jaguars approached
the skirt of the forest our dog, which till then had never ceased
barking, began to howl and seek for shelter beneath our hammocks.
Sometimes, after a long silence, the cry of the tiger came from the
tops of the trees, and then it was followed by the sharp and long
whistling of the monkeys, which appeared to flee from the danger
which threatened them. We heard the same noises repeated during the
course of whole months, whenever the forest approached the bed of the
river. The security evinced by the Indians inspires confidence in the
minds of travellers, who readily persuade themselves that the tigers
do not attack a man lying in his hammock.
When the natives are interrogated on the causes of the tremendous
noise made by the beasts of the forest at certain hours of the
night, the answer is, “They are keeping the feast of the full moon.”
I believe this agitation is most frequently the effect of some
conflict that has arisen in the depths of the forest. The jaguars,
for instance, pursue the peccaries and the tapirs, which, having no
defence but in their numbers, flee in close troops, and break down
the bushes they find in their way. Terrified at this struggle, the
timid and mistrustful monkeys answer, from the tops of the trees,
the cries of the large animals. They awaken the birds that live in
society, and by degrees the whole assembly is in commotion. It is
not always in a fine moonlight, but more particularly at the time of
a storm and violent showers that this tumult takes place among the
wild beasts. “May Heaven grant them a quiet night and repose, and
us also!” said the monk who accompanied us to the Rio Negro, when,
sinking with fatigue, he assisted in arranging our accommodations for
the night.