THE CAMP
The flat pampas, or plains, which constitute almost ninety per cent. of
the Argentine Republic that is suitable for agriculture and pasture, are
generally called the Camp. The name is derived from the Spanish word
_campo_, which means country. The Camp is the mainspring of Argentine
prosperity. The marble palace of the millionaire, as well as the mud
hovel of the immigrant, has to thank this rich soil of the _campo_ for
its foundation. It is upon this land that the republic has grown and
prospered. Its eccentricities and its products are watched with all
the anxiety usually lavished upon a baby by anxious parents; and it is
a pretty big infant, for the Camp comprises millions upon millions of
fertile acres.
The Camp is a vast plain. It spreads its smooth, unbroken surface for
hundreds of miles, with no natural hillock higher than those which the
termite ants have erected, and no depression more marked than those
which the huge cart-wheels have cut in the loose surface soil. It
can best be characterized as an ocean of land, spreading out like an
unruffled sea from horizon to horizon. Here and there, in the distance,
objects may seem to arise out of this vast expanse like little islands at
sea, and the illusion at times seems almost perfect. A nearer approach,
however, shows them to be the buildings of an _estancia_, or a grove
of trees. Even the groves did not exist before the hand of man altered
the landscape, for the plains of Argentina were unblessed by any forest
growth whatsoever—with the single exception of the rare ombu tree,
specimens of which might be met with at intervals of several miles.
Spots, which at a distance appear as dark lumps, finally shape themselves
into humble structures of black mud, which are the homes of colonists.
Their sombre and unattractive exterior may be relieved by the flaming
red or vivid blue dress of an Italian girl, which makes a welcome bit of
colour under the circumstances. The dust clouds in the distance will be
found to be floating behind horses’ hoofs, or the wheels of a cumbersome
wagon drawn by several yokes of oxen. These clouds move onward across
the pampa much as the black smoke trails behind a slow-moving steamer.
These vast stretches of level land may produce a certain sense of
irritation upon one newly arrived in Argentina. He may ride for league
upon league on his horse, or travel for hour after hour by train,
awaiting that change of scenery, which his experience leads him to
believe will inevitably occur. He might start in the centre of the
republic and travel for scores of leagues east, west, north or south, and
find the same unending monotony. But there is, nevertheless, a certain
fascination about this very vastness of the Camp which grows upon one;
in these leagues upon leagues of rich soil, which here spread themselves
in readiness to receive the seed from the hand of the farmer, and to
yield forth an abounding harvest in return for the labour bestowed.
Upon these plains one may watch the herds of cattle and the flocks of
the sheep which are scattered clear to the limit of one’s vision, a
distance so great that the largest animals stand out as mere specks
against the sky. One may travel through miles of the golden grain ready
for the sickles of the reaper, and then will come upon an equal stretch
of flax in flower, which gives the fields a bluish tint. Interspersed
with the wheat and flax may be seen the green corn and the purple of the
alfalfa blossom. These broad patches follow one another in almost endless
succession. Although one’s horizon is at all times limited, he knows
that, in whatever direction he looks, that which lies beyond is an exact
repetition of what is stretched out before his eyes.
[Illustration: “AGRICULTURE HAS SPREAD FAR AND WIDE”]
Agriculture has spread far and wide in Argentina in the last two decades.
Its forces are moving ever westward and southward, driving the “squatter”
ever farther and farther afield. It has already crossed the boundaries of
what was once known as Patagonia, no man’s land. Wire fences now enclose
the lands which once were the scenes of settlers’ battles and boundary
disputes. Grains and alfalfa have replaced the coarse natural grass,
which was indigenous to these plains. Groves of willow, eucalyptus and
poplar have been planted in the older sections of the Camp and make a
diversion in the landscape. The picturesque windmill, made in the United
States, is a familiar landmark on the horizon almost everywhere, for it
is necessary to pump all the water during the greater part of the year.
The Camp has never been divided into homesteads. The most of it is owned
by the _estancieros_, whose holdings are estimated by the square league,
almost six thousand acres. A man with only one square league is a small
farmer, and there are many estates of five and ten square leagues. Many
of these were purchased for a mere pittance twenty years ago, and the
rise in value has made the owner a wealthy man, so that he can live in
Buenos Aires a part of the year in luxury, or take a trip to Europe each
year, as many of them do.
Formerly Argentina was almost entirely a pastoral country. Millions of
cattle and sheep wandered over these plains and fed on the rich herbage.
The amount of land devoted to stock grazing has been reduced, but the
quick-growing alfalfa furnishes more pasture to the acre. At the present
time there are thirty million cattle, sixty-seven million sheep, seven
million, five hundred thousand horses and mules in the republic, which
is a very respectable showing, and places Argentina as one of the most
important stock-raising countries in the world. They are very fine stock
too. It was the care of the stock that gave rise to the “gaucho,” the
cowboy of South America, and it was this character that gave romance and
local colour to the Camp.
[Illustration: THRESHING GRAIN ON AN ESTANCIA]
As a grain-raising country Argentina has advanced by leaps and bounds. At
the present time it is the greatest flax-raising country in the world,
and our own linseed oil mills have been obliged to import seed from there
during the past two years. It is second only to the United States and
Russia in the production of wheat, and in some years has exported more
than our own land. At the stations one will sometimes see mountains of
wheat bags awaiting shipment to the ports, where hundreds of vessels
are ready to carry this grain to the hungering millions of Europe. The
threshing outfits move ponderously from one _estancia_ to another, doing
the entire work of harvesting on a percentage basis, usually one sack
out of every three. Some of them are pulled by oxen or mules, and others
are run by traction power. These processions move across the plains in
imposing fashion. The huge stacks commence to rise in twos and threes
like giant mushrooms, until the landscape is dotted with them. Then
strings of wagons, laden to the brim, carry the wheat to the warehouses,
which open wide their doors to receive this valuable product of the
soil. The stacks must be made very secure, for the winds sweep over these
plains with almost incredible velocity.
[Illustration: “NOT A HANDSOME STRUCTURE, BUT ... RATHER STRIKING”]
Italians have flocked to Argentina by the hundreds of thousands. They
have become the most important asset of the agriculturist. The colonist
is usually allotted a certain number of acres, which he cultivates on a
fixed share. Perhaps the landlord reserves as his portion one bag out
of every ten of grain. The colonist is given the bare land, and must
provide his own dwelling. But that is a simple matter. Rough boards are
made into a mould, similar to that prepared for the pouring of cement,
into which mud mixed with straw is placed. When this has dried the
boards are removed, and the wall of the house is finished. Spaces for
doors and windows are then cut out, a roof placed over it, and the house
is ready for occupancy. Or this mud may be cut into bricks, which are
allowed to dry in the sun and then laid up into walls. A roof of thatch
made of coarse grasses is generally used. From an artistic standpoint
the result is not a handsome structure, but it is rather striking. The
black mud walls are sombre and commonplace, and even the best of them is
scarcely more than a hovel. There is reason, however, for this economy
in the construction of a house, as the colonist may be obliged to move
to another section of the plantation in two or three years, or even to
another plantation, when it will be necessary to build another home.
The frugal Italian during these years is no doubt sending money back to
Italy, or depositing it in a bank in a neighbouring town. Many of them,
after a few years, tiring of the mud walls and ceaseless work, go back to
their beloved Italy, where the few thousands saved make them veritable
capitalists among their friends and neighbours.
The _estanciero’s_ life is a rather lonely one, for his neighbours are
few and far between. If he is an Englishman or Scotchman, as many of them
are, you will find the British atmosphere all about. There will be tennis
courts, cricket grounds, and, perhaps, a golf course where the family and
their friends will find recreation. Pheasant hatcheries are sometimes
maintained, and these birds and the long-eared rabbits, which are very
plentiful, furnish the shooting so popular with the British sportsman.
The Camp store, however, is the centre of life on the _estancia_. It is
the post office and the general place of rendezvous. There are heaps of
padlocks and nails, stacks of lamps and coils of wire. Beside quaintly
carved native saddles will be fierce-looking knives a foot or more in
length, which peacefully repose in bright new leather sheaths. Boots that
might have graced a cavalier of old jostle against bottles of patent
medicine guaranteed to cure every ill to which human flesh is heir.
Business is never done in haste. The gaucho measures time by the progress
of the sun, and an odd half hour or so never bothers him. There is always
a little time for gossip before and after the purchase has been made, and
then there must be a drink for friendship’s sake.
Drouths come sometimes, and the locusts, to break in upon the prosperity
of both colonist and _estanciero_. But there is seldom an absolute
failure. The locusts are present almost every year, and it is a
constantly recurring fight against the scourge of these pests.
The real development of the live stock industry in Argentina began with
the discovery that meat could be frozen and shipped any distance. Since
that time the growth has been almost phenomenal. It used to be that
long-horned, rakish, bony _criollos_ (native stock) wandered over the
pampas feeding on the succulent grasses, and dying by the thousands
during a season of drouth. Now the sleek short-horned stock have taken
their places, and they fatten upon the rich alfalfa pastures which have
been sown by the planter. This plant roots so deep that it will remain
green in drouths that would cause the native grass to become dry and
dead. Fine sheep have superseded the scrubby animals that once stalked
the plains; and even the horse has acquired finer legs and shoulders,
and developed a more graceful arch to his neck. Indeed, it may be said
that the average stock in Argentina will compare favourably with those
of any other nation on the globe. The change has been brought about by
the importation of the very best breeding stock from Europe, which have
formed the nuclei for the present herds.
The Durham, Hereford and polled Angus are the chief grades of cattle that
one will find. In one section of the country one breed will predominate,
and a few leagues away another will prevail almost exclusively. Cattle
are always sold at so much a head, and never by weight. “Do you never
weigh them?” I asked of an _estanciero_. “Oh, yes, we weigh a few
so that we have an idea of the general average.” In the transaction,
however, between him and the buyer, weight is never mentioned. The buyer
will look over the bunch for sale and offer a stated figure, which may
or may not be accepted. They are then delivered to him at a given point,
and shipped to the stockyards in Buenos Aires, or to one of the many
slaughterhouses in the republic. The number of stock to be kept is a
serious problem for the proprietor. More than one _estanciero_ has been
ruined by overstocking his _estancia_, and then, either locusts or the
drouth coming, he was left without feed for his animals.
The cattle dip is a very necessary adjunct to every stock farm. The
idea was adopted from Australia, where the cattle raisers had similar
experience with the tick fever. It consists of a wide yard which
gradually narrows into a lane wide enough for only one animal. When the
animal is driven forward it faces a lengthy tank which it is necessary to
ford. This tank is filled with a medicated solution and, as the animal
swims through it, men with poles push them entirely under. The animal
does not enjoy swimming through this nauseous, badly-tasting mixture, but
he has no option, so, shutting his mouth tightly, he flounders through
in the best way possible. It is rather a sorry looking creature, however,
that emerges on the other side. Another form of dipping cattle is a cage
into which an animal is driven, and this is submerged in a tank filled
with this medicated solution. Either method accomplishes the desired
result, which is to give the cattle a thorough saturation that will kill
the tick.
Second in importance comes sheep. Although they abound all over the
republic they are found in greatest numbers in the southern provinces.
The development of these animals has been studied a great deal lately and
scientific methods have been introduced. The finest of rams have been
imported in order to improve the breed and the former coarse wool is now
being replaced by a much finer quality. The Argentine merinos will now
rank with those from any part of the world. One will find Leicesters,
Oxfords, Black-faced Downs and all the other fine breeds. A number of
New Zealand ranchers have come to Argentina in recent years, and they
have been especially successful in sheep raising. The breeds have been
bettered, and foot-rot as well as other diseases combated with so that
the results have been very beneficial to the industry.
Sheep farming in Argentina is an old industry. The number of sheep has
grown until there are now at least ten for each man, woman and child in
the republic. How many sheep the pampas can support is hardly known,
but it would be several times the present number. Where there is plenty
of rain an acre will support three or four head, and at other places
it would be safer to keep three or four acres for each sheep. In the
Buenos Aires province the best ranchers place about six hundred sheep
to each square mile. The sheep farming is all conducted on a big scale,
and there are few small flocks. The most of the flocks range from ten
thousand to seventy-five thousand, with some possibly several times the
latter number. The sheep are watched on the open pampas by shepherds on
horseback, each having the care of a fixed number. It is the shepherd’s
duty to see that the flocks do not mingle, and to keep them free from
disease. For this work they receive a stated sum monthly, which would not
be considered large in the United States.
Formerly the sheep were raised for the wool, pelts and tallow only. Even
then they were profitable. The carcasses were even used for fuel. Now,
with the development of the frozen meat industry, this meat feeds the
mutton-eaters of England. Hundreds and thousands of tons of frozen mutton
are shipped down the La Plata every month. It is frozen so stiff that it
will keep for months and be as palatable as freshly slaughtered meat. The
slaughtering establishments are mostly located along the Paraná River,
between Buenos Aires and Rosario. Acres upon acres are covered with sheep
pens, slaughtering houses and freezing establishments. The frozen carcass
is sewed up in fine white muslin cloths, and then laid away to await the
next steamer, whose hold will be filled with these ghostly bundles. The
wool is sent to the great wool market in Buenos Aires. Each man’s wool
is placed in a pile by itself, all unwashed, and so brings a low price
because of the weight of the grease in it, for wool will lose almost half
its weight in washing. The Argentine farmer prefers to sell it at the
lower rate and allow the European or American buyers to clean it.
The lambing and shearing seasons are the two busiest and most anxious
seasons for the sheep raiser. A good lambing season will almost
double the flock, so prolific do they become. Sheep shearing used to
be done almost entirely by hand, but nearly all the big ranches now
have sheep-shearing machines driven by steam or gasoline power. Still,
whether done by hand in the old way or by machines in the modern way,
sheep shearing is arduous work. The shearers often go about in bands from
ranch to ranch. The quickness and skill of some of the shearers borders
almost on the marvellous. One hundred sheep daily is a fair average for
good shearers, but some exceptionally expert operators can double that
score. A great deal of care has to be exercised to clip the wool as close
as possible, and still leave the animal uninjured. A shearer who could
not practise his business without badly cutting the sheep would soon be
discharged as incompetent. The poor animals have to put up with a few
scratches and cuts, but it is seldom that one is severely injured. The
amount of wool and mutton sent out from these sheep ranches is almost
incredible. An especially fine quality of wool is produced on the great
ranches of Patagonia, one of which is larger than the state of Rhode
Island.
[Illustration: A HERD OF HALF-WILD HORSES]
Horses are also raised in great numbers in Argentina. One who sees the
fine draught horses in Buenos Aires need not be told that Argentine
horses are of good breed and quality. The average Argentinian thinks that
he knows more about a horse than anything else. Pedigreed stallions have
been imported by the hundreds, and the very best blood has been brought
in. One will find as good horses in Argentina as anywhere. They are
generally well taken care of, too, for lean and skinny horses are very
rare. During the Boer-English war fortunes were made out of horses, for
the British government bought thousands of head and paid fancy prices.
They were beaten, too, in many a bargain by the shrewd _estancieros_. Pig
breeding has not been developed much as yet, although considerable stride
has been made in some sections, but the export of pork does not amount
to any considerable sum. Great hopes are, however, entertained by the
Argentinians for this industry also.
All agriculture is on a gigantic scale. The rapid development has been
a surprise to even the most hopeful _estanciero_. Railways have, in
many instances, been almost unable to cope with some of the crops, and
trains have been run night and day to carry the grain to the exporting
centres. The wheat accumulates at the shipping points until vast stacks
are piled up at the various stations in the wheat lands. One company’s
cars cannot run over another company’s tracks, and this further adds to
the congestion. The wheat is carried to the stations on huge carts with
wheels eight feet high and drawn by from ten to a dozen oxen. A load of
several tons may be balanced between these two lofty wheels. As the carts
move forward they are accompanied by an awful screeching noise which
is ear-splitting. The carter does not care to use grease, as he says
that the noise encourages the oxen. The cry goes up each year for more
labourers to care for the crops, and the need still exists. Because of
the lack of elevators and granaries the grain must be quickly gathered
and threshed. Women and girls, men and boys all work from early morning
until late at night for the few harvest weeks. The grains are generally
more profitable than stock, and in some districts have crowded the latter
out. Corn is one of the most profitable crops at the present time.
[Illustration: “THE HARVESTING MACHINES ARE USUALLY PROPELLED FROM THE
REAR”]
During the harvest time the Camp is a busy place. Clouds of dust all over
the horizon denote activity in the grain fields. Managers and overseers
are kept busy riding from one group to another. Thousands of Italians
come over for the harvests and then return to their native land. The
harvesting machines are usually propelled from the rear, either by steam
power or animals. Attached to the side of the “strippers,” which simply
cut off the heads of the grain, is a large harvest cart into which the
grain drops. Four roads will be cut from a central point at right angles
to each other, which run to the outer edge of the wheat field. In the
central point the oblong stacks are formed. By this system the fields
of golden grain rapidly disappear before the onslaughts of the cutting
machines.
Thirty years ago Argentina was a wheat-importing nation. Some of the
knowing ones said wheat could not be successfully grown on the pampas.
Since then the grain-producing area has been increased each year and
the beginning of the end is not yet in sight. At first it was thought
that only the land between the Paraná and Uruguay Rivers was available,
but now it has spread south into Patagonia and west to the Andes. The
available wheat land has been estimated at more than 200,000,000 acres,
of which only a small per cent. is at present under cultivation. This
wheat land is mostly a rich black loam, from a few inches to three feet
or more deep, surmounting a subsoil of clay.
There are few rivers or lakes on the Camp and there is little surface
water. The old-fashioned wells sunk very deep in the ground, in which the
buckets are raised by horse power, are still quite common. Windmills of
American make add a picturesqueness to the landscape. Ponds are banked
up into which the water is pumped, and from them the troughs are filled.
These wells seldom go dry even in the severe drouths in that land.
The midday siesta is almost universal in the Camp, for the sun beats
down unmercifully hot for a few hours. The languor of these hours is
all-pervading. Stock huddle together and put their heads in the shadow of
the bodies of the others. The mosquito is very much at home on the Camp
and sometimes makes the nights unappreciated.
[Illustration: A GAUCHO AND HIS WIFE ON AN OUTING]
One fearful disease is the anthrax, which is taken from cattle. The first
symptom is a red mark on the skin, which is irritating. If unattended to
this will develop into a blue boil surrounded by little blisters. After a
while the sensitiveness disappears and no pain is felt. The blue is more
pronounced and a full-fledged case of anthrax is developed. Something
must be done promptly. The common treatment, when no surgeon is near,
is to heat a wire red hot and burn out the infected spot clean from the
surrounding flesh. This is a decidedly painful operation when performed
without anæsthetics, and requires a remarkable degree of stoicism. The
affected spot is absolutely without feeling. If this or another effective
operation is not performed by the third day the chance of recovery is
very slight, it is said. The gauchos are the principal sufferers.
Like his counterpart, the cowboy of the western plains, the gaucho is
a unique character, and his individuality is probably the result of
his environment and the life he has led. The freedom of the plains and
lack of refining society have made him a man with a rough exterior
which, however, oftentimes clothes a tender human heart. The gaucho of
Argentina is generally of mixed blood. The blood may have become mixed
centuries back, when the first Spaniards came to this country, but it
still shows in his swarthy features. For centuries these people have
lived an easy-going, care-free existence on the great plains of that
republic. If there is one thing the gaucho loves, it is his freedom, and
it is difficult to accustom him to the restraint that becomes necessary
as development and private ownership proceed. In the centuries past
the gauchos have always been engaged in the wars and revolutions which
were common. The side they fought on did not matter much, for it was
victory only that was sought. When there were no public disturbances to
furnish excitement, they got up feuds on their own account, and fought
each other. The Camp is full of tales of the gauchos and their deeds or
misdeeds, many of which savour of real knight-errantry. It is these tales
that has given the Argentinian plains an individuality. The old-time
lawless gaucho has generally disappeared in the march of civilization,
but the modified character remains and works for the ranch owner. Many of
them have intermarried with the Italian and Spanish colonists who have
migrated there. The railroad has perhaps been the greatest enemy of the
gaucho, just as it was of the cowboy on our own western plains, because
settlers have everywhere followed the iron horse.
The costume of the gaucho has not changed. It still consists of a broad
sombrero, a shirt and the _bombachos_—wide Turkish trousers that range in
colour from black to snow-white, and which fall to just above the ankle,
where they are enclosed in a pair of tight-fitting boots. The _poncho_, a
blanket which is placed over the shoulders in cool weather, varies from
the most sombre hues to the boldest colours—brown and black to brilliant
scarlet or purple. The effect of such a brilliantly-clothed apparition
coming upon you unawares in a remote district can better be imagined than
described. A great broad knife is almost invariably stuck in the belt,
many of them a foot in length and of fantastic pattern. It is generally
encased in a leathern, but sometimes in a metal, scabbard. This knife
is intended not only for defence, but it is his principal aid in eating
lunches out on the Camp. His favourite food is _asado con cuero_, beef
roasted over the fire without removing the hide, and he is an expert in
preparing this luxury. Dressed in all his finery, and mounted upon a
saddle inlaid and ornamented with silver as many are, with fancy stirrups
and huge clanking spurs, the South American gaucho is a sight worthy to
behold.
The gaucho is a born horseman. From earliest childhood he has been
accustomed to a horse’s back. Before his legs are long enough to reach
the stirrups of a saddle the gaucho rides bareback, and an occasional
tumble does not seem to be minded, for they are determined to ride.
Caution or fear concerning horses is not known among them—such sentiments
are altogether incomprehensible to their understanding. I have seen
contests between the gauchos and American cowboys in Buenos Aires, and,
although the latter are quicker in saddling and mounting a pony, they
cannot stick on a bucking broncho any better than the former.
[Illustration: GAUCHOS BRANDING CATTLE]
The gaucho is a rather taciturn individual, and is not given to
many words. At the same time he is easily offended if any sense of
superiority is shown. He may not show resentment on the surface, but
a volcano may rage underneath a placid and immobile countenance. If
there is, in his opinion, sufficient provocation, he will probably bide
his time for revenge and await it patiently. It is not always done in
the open, either, since he does not want a chance for failure. If he
likes his employer his devotion is admirable, and he will serve with a
commendable faithfulness. When roused by liquor the gaucho is often very
troublesome, and then it is that he starts out to avenge real or fancied
slights, and he sometimes commits serious crimes. Money does not appeal
to the gaucho in a strong sense, and crimes as a rule are not committed
for that purpose, but they are to avenge slights or real wrongs for which
he thinks personal reprisal is the only adequate remedy. To requite a
wrong with him is a point of honour. The gauchos are natural gamblers
and, besides ordinary games of the Camp, there is scarcely anything that
is not made the subject of wagering, and the average gaucho’s money
soon disappears. It is doubtful whether education will make the gaucho
a more efficient ranch hand, though it will make him a better and more
intelligent citizen of a republic.
The work of the gaucho is generally confined to the care of stock, of
which such vast herds swarm the pampas in almost every direction. The
mustering of cattle in Argentina is called a “rodeo.” Viewed from a
distance, one will see a line strongly marked wind its way over the level
plain, with a dust cloud hanging over it, which is visible long before
the animals come in view. As the armies of red, white and dun animals
approach nearer one will see the picturesque gauchos riding here and
there like officers of an army bearing commands.
When the place of rendezvous has been reached the cattle are kept
tramping around a central point, as they are not near so likely to get
frightened or stampeded if kept on the move. When the inspection or count
is ended, the different herds are gradually separated by the gauchos and
driven back to the feeding grounds. If a count is intended a line is
formed through which the cattle are driven, and the cattle are numbered
as they pass through the line. This is sometimes a difficult operation,
and especially is it so if they aim to divide the herd into two or more
bodies. One animal is driven to the right, another to the left and so on.
This sometimes leads to a great deal of excitement and confusion among
the cattle, and stampedes are easy to happen under such circumstances.
Stockyards have been built on many ranches, where a narrow passage is
constructed through which only one animal is able to pass at a time. This
greatly simplifies the counting or dividing process. Furthermore, there
is less danger of the animals injuring each other in their excitement.
The gauchos are clever with the lasso, but cannot equal the American
cowboy with that rope. Altogether the gaucho is a very useful and a very
necessary man on the cattle _estancias_ of Argentina, and his services
are generally appreciated.