Westward of the Parana and the Province of Buenos Ayres stretches out
the wide-extended and almost level plain of the Pampas, reaching to the
base of the Andes. It is a wild, savage region, sprinkled over here and
there with salt-lakes and marshes, in which a few streams, traversing it
at considerable distances apart, lose themselves.
The tracks across it are marked by the whitened skeletons of the horses
and bullocks which have succumbed to the fatigues of the journey, or the
want of water, and have been picked clean by the carranchas, and others
of the vulture tribe, or by the active teeth of the voracious little
armadillos, which clear away the refuse of the feast left by their
feathered companions. Here and there forts or post-houses are found,
garrisoned by the wild Gauchos--their appearance in keeping with the
scenery.
The huts are generally built of the stalks of huge thistles, and are
sometimes mere enclosures, destitute of roofs. They are surrounded by
stockades, in many instances formed of thick hedges of cacti, well
calculated to resist an attack from the still savage Indians who roam
throughout the region in search of plunder.
It is on these plains that the little bizcacha in vast numbers form
their burrows; by the side of which, during the day, their small friends
the owls of the Pampas take up their posts, and watch the passers-by.
Vast herds of horses and cattle now roam in unrestrained freedom across
them. Here the tall rhea, the American ostrich, with outstretched wings
runs swiftly across the plain. Towards its southern boundaries the
huanacu and the deer--Cervus campestris--in large herds range at large,
while the pools and marshes are inhabited by enormous flocks of wild
fowl of all descriptions. Here hundreds of beautiful flamingoes may be
seen rising when alarmed, and forming a rosy cloud of plumage in the
blue sky--the tints shading gradually from the delicate pink of their
necks to the deep red of their long wings; while many others of the
feathered tribes,--some with long legs, others with huge beaks,--fly
across the placid pools, their strange cries and varied notes sounding
through the air.
The eastern portion of this enormous district in winter presents a
peculiarly rich aspect--herds of wild cattle grazing in full liberty on
the luxuriant clover which then covers the ground. As spring advances,
a totally different plant takes the place of the clover, and in three or
four weeks an extraordinary change has occurred. The whole region then
appears covered by a dense wood of enormous thistles, which have shot up
to a height of nearly twelve feet, and are now in full bloom. So
densely do they grow, that they present an impenetrable barrier to man
and horse, or even to the strong-limbed cattle or wild beasts of the
plain. The only passage through them is by those paths which have been
kept open by the constant trampling of feet; while certain tracks,
intricate as those of a labyrinth, which exist in some directions, are
the abodes of bands of robbers, to whom alone they are known. From
their recesses they sally forth to attack the solitary rancho, or to
murder the traveller who may be passing through, knowing well that they
can secure a safe retreat, without the risk of being pursued.
Beyond this region of thistles is a second wide district, which produces
long grass, changing only, according to the season, from green to brown;
while beyond it, again, is a third region, reaching to the base of the
Cordilleras, and mostly covered with thick groves of low trees and
evergreen shrubs, with here and there streams passing amid them.
Descending from the Andes, the first view of the Pampas resembles
somewhat the wide-spreading ocean seen from afar; but as the sun rises,
irregularities can be distinguished in the northern portion,--while the
streams which run through it from the mountainsides glitter like silver
threads, till lost in the immensity of the distance.
But to return to the previous region. For several months the tall
thistles hold possession of the plain, but at length the heats of summer
tell upon them. They lose their sap and verdure, their heads droop, the
leaves shrink and fade, the stems become black and dead, though still
they stand rattling one against the other with the breeze. Then dark
clouds are seen in the west; the fierce pampero bursts forth with
irresistible force; they bend before it, and in a few seconds the whole
forest is levelled with the ground. Here, under the influence of the
heat and moisture, they rapidly decompose and disappear, fertilising the
soil. Once more the clover rushes up, and the plain again smiles with a
verdant hue, and welcomes back the cattle, who have been driven to
distant pastures.