Who has not heard of the _giants_ of Patagonia? From the days of
Magellan, when they were first seen, many a tale has been told, and many
a speculation indulged in about these colossal men: some representing
them as very Titans, of twelve feet in height, and stout in proportion:
that, when standing a little astride, an ordinary-sized man could pass
between their legs without even stooping his head! So talked the early
navigators of the Great South Sea.
Since the time when these people were first seen by Europeans, up to the
present hour,--in all, three hundred and thirty years ago,--it is
astonishing how little has been added to our knowledge of them; the more
so, that almost every voyager who has since passed through the Straits
of Magellan, has had some intercourse with them;--the more so, that
Spanish people have had settlements on the confines of their country;
and one--an unsuccessful one, however--in the very heart of it! But
these Spanish settlements have all decayed, or are fast decaying; and
when the Spanish race disappears from America,--which sooner or later it
will most certainly do,--it will leave behind it a greater paucity of
monumental record, than perhaps any civilised nation ever before
transmitted to posterity.
Little, however, as we have learnt about the customs of the Patagonian
people, we have at least obtained a more definite idea of their height.
_They have been measured_. The twelve-feet giants can no longer be
found; they never existed, except in the fertile imaginations of some of
the old _navigators_,--whose embodied testimony, nevertheless, it is
difficult to disbelieve. Other and more reliable witnesses have done
away with the Titans; but still we are unable to reduce the stature of
the Patagonians to that of ordinary men. If not actual _giants_, they
are, at all events, very tall men,--many of them standing seven feet in
their boots of guanaco-leather, few less than six, and a like few rising
nearly to eight! These measurements are definite and certain; and
although the whole number of the Indians that inhabit the plains of
Patagonia may not reach the above standard there are tribes of smaller
men called by the common name Patagonians,--yet many individuals
certainly exist who come up to it.
If not positive giants, then, it is safe enough to consider the
Patagonians as among the "tallest" of human beings,--perhaps the very
tallest that exist, or ever existed, upon the face of the earth; and for
this reason, if for no other, they are entitled to be regarded as an
"odd people." But they have other claims to this distinction; for their
habits and customs, although in general corresponding to those of other
tribes of American Indians, present us with many points that are
peculiar.
It may be remarked that the Patagonian women, although not so tall as
their men, are in the usual proportion observable between the sexes.
Many of them are more corpulent than the men; and if the latter be
called _giants_, the former have every claim to the appellation of
_giantesses_!
We have observed, elsewhere, the very remarkable difference between the
two territories, lying respectively north and south of the Magellan
Straits,--the Patagonian on the north, and the Fuegian on the south. No
two lands could exhibit a greater contrast than these,--the former with
its dry sterile treeless plains,--the latter almost entirely without
plains; and, excepting a portion of its eastern end, without one level
spot of an acre in breadth; but a grand chaos of humid forest-clad
ravines and snow-covered mountains. Yet these two dissimilar regions
are only separated by a narrow sea-channel,--deep, it is true; but so
narrow, that a cannon-shot may be projected from one shore to the other.
Not less dissimilar are the people who inhabit these opposite shores;
and one might fancy a strange picture of contrast presented in the
Straits of Magellan: on some projecting bluff on the northern shore, a
stalwart Patagonian, eight feet in height, with his ample guanaco skin
floating from his shoulders, and his long spear towering ten feet above
his head;--on the southern promontory, the dwarfed and shrivelled figure
of a Fuegian,--scarce five feet tall,--with tiny bow and arrows in hand,
and shivering under his patch of greasy sealskin!--and yet so near each
other, that the stentorian voice of the giant may thunder in the ears of
the dwarf; while the henlike cackle of the latter may even reach those
of his colossal _vis-a-vis_!
Notwithstanding this proximity, there is no converse between them; for,
unlike as are their persons, they are not more dissimilar than their
thoughts, habits, and actions. The one is an aquatic animal, the other
essentially terrestrial; and, strange to say, in this peculiarity the
weaker creature has the advantage: since the Fuegian can cross in his
bark canoe to the territory of his gigantic neighbour, while the latter
has no canoe nor water-craft of any kind, and therefore never thinks of
extending his excursions to the "land of fire," excepting at one very
narrow place where he has effected a crossing. In many other respects,
more particularly detailed elsewhere,--in their natural dispositions and
modes of life, these two peoples are equally dissimilar; and although
learned craniologists may prove from their skulls, that both belong to
one division of the human family, this fact proves also that craniology,
like anatomy, is but a blind guide in the illustration of scientific
truth,--whether the subject be the skull of a man or an animal. Despite
all the revelations of craniologic skill, an Indian of Patagonia bears
about the same resemblance to an Indian of Tierra del Fuego, as may be
found between a bull and a bluebottle!
Before proceeding to describe the modes of life practised by the
Patagonian giants, a word or two about the country they inhabit.
It may be generally described as occupying the whole southern part of
South America,--from the frontier of the Spanish settlements to the
Straits of Magellan,--and bounded east and west by the two great oceans.
Now, the most southern Spanish (Buenos-Ayrean) settlement is at the
mouth of Rio Negro; therefore, the Rio Negro--which is the largest river
south of the La Plata--may be taken as the northern boundary of
Patagonia. Not that the weak, vitiated Spanish-American extends his
sway from the Atlantic to the Andes: on the contrary, the Indian
aborigines, under one name or another, are masters of the whole
interior,--not only to the north of the Rio Negro, but to the very
shores of the Caribbean Sea! Yes, the broad inland of South America,
from Cape Horn to the sea of the Antilles, is now, as it always has
been, the domain of the Red Indian; who, so far from having ever been
reduced by conquest, has not only resisted the power of the Spanish
sword, and the blandishments of the Spanish cross; but at this hour is
encroaching, with constant and rapid strides, upon the blood-stained
territory wrested from him by that _Christian conquest_!
And this is the man who is so rapidly to disappear from the face of the
earth! If so, it is not the puny Spaniard who is destined to push him
off. If he is to disappear, it will be at such a time, that no Spaniard
will be living to witness his extermination.
Let us take Patagonia proper, then, as bordered upon the north by the
Rio Negro, and extending from the Atlantic to the Pacific. In that case
it is a country of eight hundred miles in length, with a breadth of at
least two hundred,--a country larger than either France or Spain.
Patagonia is usually described as a continuation of the great plains,
known as the "Pampas," which extend from the La Plata River to the
eastern slope of the Andes. This idea is altogether erroneous. It is
true that Patagonia is a country of plains,--excepting that portion of
it occupied by the Andes, which is, of course, a mountain tract, much of
it resembling Tierra del Fuego in character more than Patagonia.
Indeed, Patagonia proper can hardly be regarded as including this
mountain strip: since the Patagonian Indians only inhabit the plains
properly so called. These plains differ essentially from those of the
Pampas. The latter are based upon a calcareous formation: and produce a
rank, rich herbage,--here of gigantic thistles and wild artichokes,--
there of tall grasses; and, still nearer the mountains, they are thinly
covered with copses of low trees. The plains of Patagonia on the other
hand, are of tertiary formation, covered all over with a shingly pebble
of porphyry and basalt, and almost destitute of vegetation. Here and
there are some tufts of scanty grass with a few stunted bushes in the
valleys of the streams, but nothing that can be called a tree. A
surface drear and arid, in places mottled with "salinas" or salt lakes;
with fresh water only found at long intervals, and, when found, of
scanty supply. There are many hilly tracts, but nothing that can be
called mountains,--excepting the snow-covered Cordilleras in the west.
The Patagonian plain is not everywhere of equal elevation: it rises by
steps, as you follow it westward, beginning from the sea-level of the
Atlantic shore; until, having reached the _piedmont_ of the Andes, you
still find yourself on a plain, but one which is elevated three thousand
feet above the point from which you started. At all elevations,
however, it presents the same sterile aspect; and you perceive that
Patagonia is a true desert,--as much so as Atacama, in Peru, the desert
of the Colorado in the north, the "barren grounds" of Hudson's Bay, the
Sahara and Kalahari, Gobi, or the steppe of Kaurezm. To the
South-African deserts it bears a more striking resemblance than to any
of the others,--a resemblance heightened by the presence of that most
remarkable of birds,--the ostrich. Two species stalk over the plains of
Patagonia,--the _struthio rhea_ and _struthio Darwinii_. The former
extends northward over the Pampas, but not southward to the Straits of
Magellan; the latter reaches the Straits, but is never seen upon the
Pampas. The ranges of both meet and overlap near the middle of the
Patagonian plain.
In addition to the ostrich, there are other large birds that frequent
the steppes of Patagonia. The great condor here crosses the continent,
and appears upon the Atlantic shores. He perches upon the cliffs of the
sea,--as well as those that overhang the inland streams,--and builds his
nest upon the bare rock. Two species of _polyborus_, or
vulture-eagles,--the "carrancha" and "chiniango,"--fly side by side with
the condor; and the black turkey-vultures are also denizens of this
desert land. The red puma, too, has his home here; the fox of Azara;
and several species of hawks and eagles.
With the exception of the first-mentioned--the ostrich--all these beasts
and birds are predatory creatures; and require flesh for their
subsistence. Where do they get it? Upon what do they all prey? Surely
not upon the ostrich: since this bird is bigger than any of the birds of
prey, and able to defend itself even against the great condor. There
are only one or two other species of birds upon which the eagles might
subsist,--a partridge and two kinds of plover; but the vultures could
not get a living out of partridges and plovers. Small quadrupeds are
alike scarce. There are only two or three species; and very small
creatures they are,--one a sort of mole, "terutero," and several kinds
of mice. The latter are, indeed, numerous enough in some places,--
swarming over the ground in tracts so sterile, that it is difficult to
understand upon what they subsist. But vultures do not relish food,
which they require to kill for themselves. They are too indolent for
that; and wherever they are found, there must be some source of
supply,--some large quadrupeds to provide them with their favourite
food,--carrion. Otherwise, in this desert land, how should the ravenous
puma maintain himself?--how the vultures and vulture-eagles? and, above
all, upon what does the Patagonian himself subsist,--a man of such great
bulk, as naturally to require more than the ordinary amount of food?
The answer to all these questions, then, is, that a quadruped _does_
exist in the deserts of Patagonia; which, if it furnish not all these
creatures with their full diet supplies, does a large proportion of it.
This quadruped is the _guanaco_.
Before proceeding to give an account of the guanaco, let us paint the
portrait of the Patagonian himself.
As already observed, he is nearly seven feet in height, without any
exaggeration in the way of a hat. He wears none, but suffers his long
black hair to hang loosely over his shoulders, or, more frequently,
gathers it into a knot or club upon the crown of his head. To keep it
from straggling into his eyes, he usually wears a narrow strap of
guanaco skin around his forehead, or a plaited band of the hair of the
same animal; but, although possessing ostrich-feathers at discretion, he
rarely indulges in the fashion of wearing a plume,--he knows he is tall
enough without one. Over his shoulders, and hanging nearly to his
heels, he wears a loose mantle of guanaco skins; which is of sufficient
width to wrap round his body, and meet over his breast,--should he feel
cold enough to require it. But he is not of a chilly nature; and he
often throws this mantle entirely aside to give him the freedom of his
arms; or more generally ties a girdle round it, and leaves the upper
part to fall back from his shoulders, and hang down over the girdle.
This mantle--with the exception of a small pouch-like apron in front--is
the only "garment," the Patagonian wears upon his body; but his lower
limbs have a covering of their own. These are encased in a sort of
boots or mocassins,--but differing from all other boots and mocassins,
in the fact of their being without _soles_! They are made of the same
material as the mantle,--that is, of the skin of the _guanaco_,--but
sometimes also of the skin of a horse's shank,--for the Patagonian, like
the Pampas Indian, is in possession of this valuable animal.
This soleless boot covers the leg all round from below the knee, passing
over the top of the foot like a gaiter; it extends also around the heel,
and a little under it, but not so far as the instep, thus leaving the
greater part of the sole bare, and the toes peeping out in front! They
are, in reality, nothing more or less than gaiters, but gaiters of
_guanaco skin_, with the hair turned outward, and worn, not over a pair
of boots or shoes, as gaiters usually are, but upon the naked shanks.
I have been thus particular in my description of the Patagonian
_chaussure_; but you will understand my reasons, when I tell you that,
from this trifling circumstance, not only has a vast territory of
country, but the people who inhabit it, obtained the appellation by
which both have long been known to the civilised world, that is,
_Patagonian_.
When the sailors who accompanied Magellan first saw these colossal men,
they noticed a peculiar circumstance in relation to their feet. The
flaps, or "uppers," of the gaiters, extending loosely across the tops of
their feet, and exaggerated in breadth by the long hair that fringed out
from their edges, gave to these Indians the appearance of having paws or
"patas;" and the name _patagones_, or "duck-feet," was given them by the
sailors,--ever prone to the bestowal of a ludicrous epithet. This name,
in a slightly altered form, they have borne ever since,--so that
Patagonia means the country of the _duck-footed_ men.
The gaiters of the Patagonians have their peculiar purpose. They are
not worn merely for the sake of keeping the legs warm, but also as a
protection against the thorny shrubs which in Patagonia, as in all
desert lands, are exceedingly abundant.
The mantle and mocassins, then, constitute the Patagonian's costume; and
it does not differ so widely from that of his neighbour the Fuegian,--
the chief points of difference being in the size and material.
Of course the guanaco skin is much larger than that of the common seal;
and a good Patagonian cloak would furnish "doublets" for a whole tribe
of the diminutive Fuegians. Perhaps his ample garment has something to
do in producing the exaggerated accounts that have been given of the
stature of the Patagonians. Certain it is, that a man thus apparelled,
looks larger than he otherwise would do; and presents altogether a
_more_ imposing appearance. The Caffre, in his civet-cat "kaross," and
the Pawnee Indian, in his robe of shaggy buffalo-hide, loom very large
upon karroo and prairie,--much larger in appearance than they really
are. It is but natural, therefore, to suppose that the Patagonian,
attired in his guanaco mantle, and seen against the sky, standing upon
the summit of a conspicuous cliff, would present a truly gigantic
appearance.
When first seen in this position he was on foot. It was in the year
1520,--before the Spaniards had set foot upon South-American soil,--and
of course before the horse became naturalised to that continent. In
less than thirty years afterward, he appeared upon these same cliffs
bestriding a steed: for this noble animal had extended his range over
the plains of America,--even at an earlier period than his European
owner. When the Spaniards, in their after-attempts at conquering the
Indians of the Pampas and those of the northern prairies, entered upon
these great plains, they encountered, to their great astonishment, their
red enemies upon horseback, brandishing long lances, and managing fiery
chargers with a skill equal to their own!
Among the earliest tribes that obtained possession of the horse, were
those of the Pampas: since the first of these animals that ran wild on
the plains of America were those landed in the La Plata expedition of
Mendoza,--whence they became scattered over the adjacent pampas of
Buenos Ayres.
From the banks of the La Plata, the horse passed rapidly southward to
the Straits of Magellan; and from that hour the Patagonian walked no
more. With the exception of a spur,--usually a sharp stick of wood,
upon his heel,--the only additional article of his "wear," the horse has
made no change in his costume, nor in the fashion of his toilet. He
still paints his face, as Magellan first saw it,--with a white ring
encircling one eye, and a black or red one around the other; with one
half of his body coloured black, and a white sun delineated upon it,
while the other half is white, forming the "ground" for a black moon!
Scarce two individuals, however, wear the same escutcheon; for the
fashion of having eyes, arms, and legs of two different colours--just as
our ancestors used to wear their doublets and hose--is that followed by
the Patagonians.
Notwithstanding this queer custom,--usually regarded as savage,--it
would be unjust to call the Patagonian a _savage_. If we overlook the
circumstance of his painting himself,--which, after all, is scarce more
absurd than numberless practices of civilised life,--if we excuse him
for too scantily covering the nakedness of his person, and relishing his
food a little "underdone," we find little else, either in his habits or
his moral nature that would entitle him to be termed a savage. On the
contrary, from all the testimony that can be obtained,--in all the
intercourse which white men have had with him,--there is scarce an act
recorded, that would hinder his claim to being considered as civilised
as they. Honourable and amiable, brave and generous, he has ever proved
himself; and never has he exhibited those traits of vindictive ferocity
supposed to be characteristic of the untutored man. He has not even
harboured malice for the wrongs done him by the unprincipled adventurer
Magellan: who, in his treatment of these people, proved himself more of
a savage than they. But the Patagonian restrained his vengeance; and
apparently burying the outrage in oblivion, has ever since that time
treated the white man with a generous and dignified friendship. Those
who have been shipwrecked upon his solitary shores, have had no reason
to complain of the treatment they have received at his hands. He is
neither cannibal, nor yet barbarian,--but in truth a gentleman,--or, if
you prefer it, a _gentleman savage_.
But how does this gentleman maintain himself? We have already seen that
he is not a fisherman,--for he owns no species of boat; and without that
his chances of capturing fish would be slight and uncertain. We have
stated, moreover, that his country is a sterile desert; and so it is,--
producing only the scantiest of herbage; neither plant, nor tree, that
would furnish food; and incapable of being cultivated with any success.
But he does not attempt cultivation,--he has no knowledge of it; nor is
it likely he would feel the inclination, even if tempted by the most
fertile soil. Neither is he pastoral in his habits: he has no flocks
nor herds. The horse and dog are his only domestic animals; and these
he requires for other purposes than food. The former enables him to
pass easily over the wide tracts of his sterile land, and both assist
him in the chase,--which is his true and only calling. One of the chief
objects of his pursuit is the ostrich; and he eats the flesh of this
fine desert bird. He eats it, whenever he can procure it; but he could
not live solely upon such food: since he could not obtain it in
sufficient quantity; and were this bird the only means he had for
supplying his larder, he would soon be in danger of starvation. True,
the ostrich lays a great many eggs, and brings forth a large brood of
young; but there are a great many hungry mouths, and a great many large
stomachs among the Patagonian people. The ostrich could never supply
them all; and were it their only resource, the bird would soon disappear
from the plains of Patagonia, and, perhaps, the race of Patagonian
giants along with it.
Fortunately for the Patagonian, his country furnishes him with another
kind of game, from which he obtains a more sufficient supply; and that
is the guanaco. Behold yonder herd of stately creatures! There are
several hundreds of them in all. Their bodies are covered with long,
woolly hair of a reddish-brown colour. If they had antlers upon their
heads, you might mistake them for stags,--for they are just about the
size of the male of the red deer. But they have no horns; and otherwise
they are unlike these animals,--in their long slender necks, and coat of
woolly hair. They are not deer of any kind,--they are _guanacos_.
These, then, are the herds of the Patagonian Indian; they are the game
he chiefly pursues; and their flesh the food, upon which he is mainly
subsisted.
I need not here give the natural history of the guanaco. Suffice it to
say that it is one of the four (perhaps five) species of _llamas_ or
"camel-sheep" peculiar to the continent of South America,--the other
three of which are the _vicuna_, the true _llama_, and the _paco_, or
_alpaca_. The llama and alpaca are domesticated; but the vicuna, the
most graceful of all, exists only in a wild state, like the guanaco.
The four kinds inhabit the tablelands of the Andes, from Colombia to
Chili; but the guanaco has extended its range across to the Atlantic
side of the continent: this only in the territory south of the La Plata
River. On the plains of Patagonia it is the characteristic quadruped:
rarely out of sight, and usually seen in herds of twenty or thirty
individuals; but sometimes in large droves, numbering as many as five
hundred. There the puma--after the Indian of course--is its greatest
enemy,--and the _debris_ of _his_ feast constitutes the food of the
vultures and vulture-eagles,--thus accounting for the presence of these
great birds in such a desert land.
The guanaco is among the shyest of quadrupeds; and its capture would be
difficult to any one unacquainted with its habits. But these betray
them to the skilled Patagonian hunter,--who is well acquainted with
every fact in the natural history of the animal.
The Patagonian mode of capturing these creatures is not without many
peculiarities in hunting practice. His first care is to find out their
whereabouts: for the haunts which the guanacos most affect are not the
level plains, where they might be seen from afar, but rather those
places where the ground is hilly or rolling. There they are to be met
with, ranged in extended lines along the sides of the hills, with an old
male keeping watch upon the summit of some eminence that overlooks the
flock. Should the sentinel espy any danger, or even suspect it, he
gives the alarm by uttering a shrill, whistling cry, somewhat resembling
a neigh. On hearing this well-known signal, the others at once take to
flight, and gallop straight for the side of some other hill,--where they
all halt in line, and stand waiting to see if they are followed. Very
often the first intimation which the hunter has of their presence, is by
hearing their strange signal of flight,--which may be described as a
sort of triangular cross between squealing, neighing, and whistling.
Shy as they are, and difficult to be approached, they have the strange
peculiarity of losing all their senses when put into confusion. On
these occasions they behave exactly like a flock of sheep: not knowing
which way to ran; now dashing to one side, then to the other, and often
rushing into the very teeth of that danger from which they are trying to
escape!
Knowing their stupidity in this respect, the Patagonian hunter acts
accordingly. He does not go out to hunt the guanacos alone, but in
company with others of his tribe, the hunting-party often comprising the
whole tribe. Armed with their "chuzos,"--light cane spears of eighteen
feet in length,--and mounted on their well-trained steeds, they sally
forth from their encampment, and proceed to the favourite
pasturing-ground of the guanacos. Their purpose is, if possible, to
effect the "surround" of a whole herd; and to accomplish this, it is
necessary to proceed with great skill and caution. The animals are
found at length; and, by means of a deployment of dogs and horsemen, are
driven towards some hill which may be convenient to the pasture. The
instinct of the animal guiding it thither, renders this part of the
performance easy enough. On reaching the hill, the guanacos dash
onward, up to its summit; and there, halting in a compact crowd, make
front towards their pursuers. These meanwhile have galloped into a
circle,--surrounding the eminence on all sides; and, advancing upwards
amidst loud yells and the yelping of their dogs, close finally around
the herd, and rush forward to the attack.
The long chuzos do their work with rapidity; and, in a few minutes,
numbers of the guanacos lie lifeless among the rocks. The dogs, with
some men, form an outer circle of assailants; and should any guanacos
escape through the line of horsemen, they are seized upon by the dogs,
and pinned to the spot,--for it is another sheep-like trait in the
character of this animal, that the moment a dog--even though he be the
merest cur--seizes hold of it, it neither attempts further flight nor
resistance, but remains "pinned" to the spot as if under a paralysis of
terror. They sometimes give battle, however, though never to a dog; and
their mode of assault is by kicking behind them,--not with their hoofs
as horses do, but with the knee-joints, the hind legs being both raised
at once. Among themselves the males fight terrible battles: biting each
other with their teeth, and often inflicting cruel lacerations.
Strange to say, when the guanacos are found solitary, or only two or
three together, they are far less shy than when assembled in large
herds. At such times, the feeling of curiosity seems stronger than that
of fear within them; and the hunter can easily approach within a dozen
paces of one, by simply cutting a few capers, or holding up something
that may be new to it,--such as a strip of coloured rag, or some showy
article of any kind. It was by such devices that the Patagonian
captured these creatures, before possession of the horse enabled him to
effect their destruction in the more wholesale fashion of the
"surround."
By tumbling about over the ground, he was enabled to bring the game
within reach,--not of his bow and arrows; nor yet of his long spear,--
for he did not use it for such a purpose,--and, of course, not of a gun,
for he never had heard of such a weapon. Within reach of what then? Of
a weapon peculiarly his own,--a weapon of singular construction and
deadly effect; which he knew how to employ before ever the white man
came upon his shores, and which the Spaniards who dwell in the Pampas
country have found both pride and profit in adopting. This weapon is
the "bolas."
It is simple and easily described. Two round stones,--the women make
them round by grinding the one against the other,--two round stones are
covered with a piece of guanaco raw hide, presenting very much the
appearance of cricket-balls, though of unequal size,--one being
considerably smaller than the other. Two thongs are cut; and one end of
each is firmly attached to one of the balls.
The other ends of the thongs are knotted to each other; and when the
strings are at full stretch, the balls will then be about eight feet
apart,--in other words, each thong should be four feet in length. The
bolas are now made, and ready for use. The chief difficulty in their
manufacture lies in the rounding of the stones; which, as above
observed, is the work of the women; and at least two days are required
to grind a pair of bola-stones to the proper spherical shape. To handle
them requires long practice; and this the Patagonian has had: for, ever
since the young giant was able to stand upon his feet, he has been in
the habit of playing with the bolas. They have been the toy of his
childhood; and to display skill in their management has been the pride
of his boyish days; therefore, on arriving at full maturity, no wonder
he exhibits great dexterity in their use. He can then project them to a
distance of fifty yards,--with such precision as to strike the legs of
either man or quadruped, and with such force, that the thong not only
whips itself around the object struck, but often leaves a deep weal in
the skin and flesh. The mode of throwing them is well-known. The right
hand only is used; and this grasps the thongs at their point of union,
about halfway between the ends. The balls are then whirled in a
circular motion around the head; and, when sufficient centrifugal power
has been obtained, the weapon is launched at the object to be captured.
The aim is a matter of nice calculation,--in which arm, eye, and mind,
all bear a part,--and so true is this aim, in Patagonian practice, that
the hunter seldom fails to bring down or otherwise cripple his game,--be
it ostrich, cavy, or guanaco.
By these bolas, then, did the Patagonian hunter capture the guanaco and
ostrich in times past; and by the same weapon does he still capture
them: for he can use it even better on horseback than on foot. Either
the bird or the quadruped, within fifty yards, has no chance of escape
from his unerring aim.
The bolas, in some districts, have been improved upon by the
introduction of a third ball; but this the Patagonian does not consider
an _improvement_. Wooden balls are sometimes employed; and iron ones,
where they can be had,--the last sort can be projected to the greatest
distance.
The Patagonian takes the young guanacos alive; and brings them up in a
state of domestication. The little creatures may often be observed,
standing outside the tents of a Patagonian encampment,--either tied by a
string, or held in hand by some "infant giant" of the tribe. It is not
solely for the pleasure of making pets of them, that the young guanacos
are thus cherished; nor yet to raise them for food. The object aimed at
has a very different signification. These young guanacos are intended
to be used as _decoys_: for the purpose of attracting their own
relatives,--fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers, uncles, and aunts, even
to the most distant thirty-second cousinship,--within reach of the
terrible bolas!
This is effected by tying the innocent little creature to some bush,--
behind which the hunter conceals himself,--and then imitating the
mother's call; which the Indian hunter can do with all the skill of a
ventriloquist. The young captive responds with the plaintive cry of
captivity,--the parents are soon attracted to the spot, and fall victims
to their instinct of natural affection. Were it not for this, and
similar stratagems adopted by the Patagonian hunter, he would pursue the
guanaco in vain. Even with the help of his pack of dogs, and mounted
upon the fleet Spanish horse, the guanaco cannot be hunted with success.
Nature, in denying to these animals almost every means of defence, has
also bestowed upon them a gift which enables them to escape from many
kinds of danger. Of mild and inoffensive habits,--defenceless as the
hare,--they are also possessed of a like swiftness. Indeed, there is
perhaps no quadruped--not even the antelope--that can get over the
ground as speedily as the guanaco or its kindred species the vicuna.
Both are swift as the wind; and the eye, following either in its retreat
over the level plain, or up the declivity of a hill, is deluded into the
fancy that it is watching some great bird upon the wing.
There are certain seasons during which the guanaco is much more
difficult to approach than at other times; but this is true of almost
every species of animal,--whether bird or quadruped. Of course, the
tame season is that of sexual intercourse, when even the wild beasts
become reckless under the influence of passion. At other times the
guanacos are generally very shy; and sometimes extremely so. It is not
uncommon for a herd of them to take the alarm, and scamper off from the
hunter, even before the latter has approached near enough to be himself
within sight of them! They possess great keenness of scent, but it is
the eye which usually proves their friend, warning them of the approach
of an enemy--especially if that enemy be a man upon horseback--before
the latter is aware of their proximity. Often a cloud of dust, rising
afar off over the plain, is the only proof the hunter can obtain, that
there was game within the range of his vision. It is a curious
circumstance connected with hunting on these great plains,--both on the
Pampas and in Patagonia,--that a man on foot can approach much nearer to
any game than if he were mounted upon a horse. This is true not only in
relation to the guanaco and ostrich, but also of the large Pampas deer
(_cervus campestris_); and indeed of almost every animal that inhabits
these regions. The reason is simple enough. All these creatures are
accustomed to seeing their human enemy only on horseback: for "still
hunting," or hunting afoot, is rarely or never practised upon the
plains. Not only that, but a man on foot, would be a rare sight either
to an ostrich or guanaco; and they would scarce recognise him as an
enemy! Curiosity would be their leading sentiment; and, being
influenced by this, the hunter _on foot_ can often approach them without
difficulty. The Patagonian, knowing this peculiarity, not unfrequently
takes advantage of it, to kill or capture both the bird and the
quadruped.
This sentiment of the brute creation, on the plains of Patagonia, is
directly the reverse of what may be observed in our own fields. The sly
crow shows but little of this shyness, so long as you approach it on a
horse's back; but only attempt to steal up to it on foot,--even with a
thick hawthorn hedge to screen you,--and every fowler knows how wary the
bird can prove itself. Some people pronounce this _instinct_. If so,
instinct and reason must be one and the same thing.
Besides hunting the guanaco, much of the Patagonian's time is spent in
the chase of the ostrich; and, to circumvent this shy creature, he
adopts various _ruses_. The American ostrich, or more properly _rhea_,
has many habits in common with its African congener. One of these is,
when pursued it runs in a straight track, and, if possible, _against_
the wind. Aware of this habit, the Patagonians pursue it on
horseback,--taking the precaution to place some of their party in ambush
in the direction which the bird is most likely to run. They then gallop
hastily up to the line of flight, and either intercept the rhea
altogether, or succeed in "hoppling" it with the bolas. The moment
these touch its long legs, both are drawn suddenly together; and the
bird goes down as if shot!
Drake and other voyagers have recorded the statement that the
Patagonians attract the rhea within reach, by disguising themselves in a
skin of this bird. This is evidently an untruth; and the error, whether
wilful or otherwise, derives its origin from the fact, that a stratagem
of the kind is adopted by the Bushmen of Africa to deceive the ostrich.
But what is practicable and possible between a pigmy Bushman and a
gigantic African ostrich, becomes altogether impracticable and
improbable, when the _dramatis persona_ are a gigantic Patagonian and an
American _rhea_. Moreover, it is also worthy of remark, that the _rhea_
of the Patagonian plains is not the larger of the two species of
American ostrich, but the smaller one (_rhea Darwinii_), which has been
lately specifically named after the celebrated naturalist. And justly
does Mr Darwin merit the honour: since he was the first to give a
scientific description of the bird. He was not the first, however,--as
he appears himself to believe,--to discover its existence, or to give a
record of it in writing. The old Styrian monk, Dobrizhoffer, two
centuries before Mr Darwin was born, in his "History of the Abipones"
clearly points to the fact that there were two distinct species of the
"avestruz," or South-American ostrich.
Mr Darwin, however, has confirmed Dobrizhoffer's account; and brought
both birds home with him; and he, who chooses to reflect upon the
subject, will easily perceive how impossible it would be for a
Patagonian to conceal his bulky _corpus_ under the skin of a _rhea
Darwinii, or even_ that of its larger congener, the _rhea Americana_.
The skin of either would be little more than large enough to form a cap
for the _colossus_ of the Patagonian plains.
In the more fertile parts of Patagonia, the large deer (_cervus
campestris_) is found. These are also hunted by the Patagonian, and
their flesh is esteemed excellent food; not, however, until it has lain
several days buried underground,--for it requires this funereal process,
to rid it of the rank, goat-like smell, so peculiar to the species. The
mode of hunting this deer--at least that most likely to insure success--
is by stealing forward to it on foot.
Sometimes a man may approach it, within the distance of a few yards,--
even when there is no cover to shelter him,--by walking gently up to it.
Of all the other quadrupeds of the Pampas,--and these plains are its
favourite _habitat_,--the _cervus campestris_ most dreads the
horseman:--since its enemy always appears in that guise; and it has
learnt the destructive power of both lazo and bolas, by having witnessed
their effects upon its comrades. The hunter dismounted has no terrors
for it; and if he will only keep lazo and bolas out of sight,--for these
it can distinguish, as our crow does the gun,--he may get near enough to
fling either one or the other with a fatal precision.
The "agouti" (_cavia Patagonica_) frequently furnishes the Patagonian
with a meal. This species is a true denizen of the desert plains of
Patagonia; and forms one of the characteristic features of their
landscape. I need not describe its generic characters; and specifically
it has been long known as the "Patagonian cavy." Its habits differ very
little from the other South-American animals of this rodent genus,--
except that, unlike the great capivara, it does not affect to dwell near
the water. It is altogether a denizen of dry plains, in which it
burrows, and upon which it may be seen browsing, or hopping at intervals
from one point to another, like a gigantic rabbit or hare. In fact, the
cavies appear to be the South-American representatives of the hare
family,--taking their place upon all occasions; and, though of many
different species,--according to climate, soil, and other
circumstances,--yet agreeing with the hares in most of their
characteristic habits. So much do some of the species assimilate to
these last, that colonial sportsmen are accustomed to give them the
Old-World appellation of the celebrated swift-footed rodent. The
Patagonian cavies are much larger than English hares,--one of them will
weigh twenty-five pounds,--but, in other respects, there is a great deal
of resemblance. On a fine evening, three or four cavies may be seen
squatted near each other, or hopping about over the plains, one
following the other in a direct line, as if they were all proceeding on
the same errand! Just such a habit is frequently observed among hares
and rabbits in a field of young corn or fallow.
The Patagonian boys and women often employ themselves in seeking out the
ostriches' nests, and robbing them of their eggs,--which last they find
good eating. In the nests of the smaller species which we have already
stated to be the most common in the Patagonian country,--they are not
rewarded so liberally for their trouble. Only from sixteen to twenty
eggs are hatched by the _rhea Darwinii_ and about twenty-five to thirty
by the _rhea Americana_. It will be seen, that this is far below the
number obtained from the nest of the African ostrich (_struthio
camelus_),--in which as many as sixty or seventy eggs are frequently
found. It would appear, therefore, that the greater the size of the
bird, belonging to this genus the greater the number of its brood. Both
the American rheas follow the peculiar habit of the true ostrich: that
is, several hens deposit their eggs in the same nest; and the male bird
assists in the process of incubation. Indeed, in almost every respect--
except size and general colour of plumage--the American and African
ostriches resemble each other very closely; and there is no reason in
the world why a pedantic compiler should have bestowed upon them
distinct generic names. Both are true _camel birds_: both alike the
offspring, as they are the ornament, of the desert land.
Another occupation in which the Patagonian engages--and which sometimes
rewards him with a meal--is the snaring of the Pampas partridge
(_nothuria major_). This is usually the employment of the more youthful
giants; and is performed both on foot and on horseback. A small species
of partridge is taken on foot; but the larger kind can be snared best
from the back of a horse. The mode is not altogether peculiar to
Patagonia: since it is also practised in other parts of America,--both
north and south,--and the bustard is similarly captured upon the
_karoos_ of Africa. During the noon hours of the day, the performance
takes place: that is, when the sun no longer casts a shadow. The
locality of the bird being first ascertained, the fowler approaches it,
as near as it will allow. He then commences riding round, and round,
and round,--being all the while watched by the _foolish_ bird, that, in
constantly turning its head, appears to grow giddy, and loses all dread
of danger. The Indian each moment keeps lessening his circle; or, in
other words, approaches by a spiral line, continually closing upon its
centre. His only weapon is a long light reed,--something like the
common kind of cane fishing-rod, seen in the hands of rustic youth in
our own country. On the end of this reed he has adjusted a stiff snare;
the noose of which is made from the epidermis of an ostrich plume, or a
piece of the split quill; and which, being both stiff and elastic,
serves admirably for the purpose for which it is designed.
Having at length arrived within a proper distance to reach the beguiled
bird, the boy softly stops his horse, bends gently sidewards, and,
adroitly passing his noose over the neck of the partridge, jerks the
silly creature into the air. In this way an Indian boy will capture a
dozen of these birds in a few hours; and might obtain far more, if the
sun would only stay all day in the zenith. But as the bright orb sinks
westward, the elongated shadow of the horseman passes over the partridge
before the latter is within reach of the snare; and this alarming the
creature, causes it to take flight.
The Patagonian builds no house; nor does he remain long in one place at
a time. The sterile soil upon which he dwells requires him to lead a
nomade life; passing from place to place in search of game. A tent is
therefore his home; and this is of the simplest kind: the tent-cloth
consisting of a number of guanaco skins stitched together, and the poles
being such as he can obtain from the nearest tract of thicket or
_chapparal_. The poles are set bow-fashion in the ground, and over
these the skin covering is spread,--one of the bent poles being left
uncovered, to serve as a doorway. Most of the Patagonian's time is
occupied in procuring game: which, as we have seen, is his sole
sustenance; and when he has any leisure moments, they are given to the
care of his horse, or to the making or repairing his weapons for the
chase. Above all, the bolas are his especial pride, and ever present
with him. When not in actual use, they are suspended from his girdle,
or tied sash-like around his waist,--the balls dangling down like a pair
of tassels.
Only during his hours of sleep, is this national weapon ever out of the
hands of the Patagonian giant. Had the wonderful giant of our nurseries
been provided with such a sling, it is probable that little Jack would
have found in him an adversary more difficult to subdue!