THE GARDEN OF THE REPUBLIC
The second city in Argentina is Rosario de Santa Fé. It is the Chicago
of Argentina, for it is the chief wheat market, and is about as far
inland as Pittsburg. It is connected with Buenos Aires by two branches
of the Central Railway, as well as river communication. Rosario is to a
great extent a replica of the national capital on a much smaller scale.
The streets all cross each other at right angles. One-storied buildings
predominate everywhere, and I do not believe that there is a structure
which exceeds three stories in the city. Even in the business section
one story is the general rule. In the way of municipal improvement
Rosario is up to date, and contains all the advantages of the metropolis
except population. There are a number of plazas after the usual style,
and a beautiful park adorns one section of the city. Electric light and
cars serve the entire city, so that in physical comforts Rosario is
not behind similar cities in Europe, or North America. There is quite
a considerable foreign colony and each one boasts its club where the
members can meet, eat, drink and be merry. Although Rosario is almost two
centuries old, it was an obscure little village up to a generation ago.
In the past ten years it has doubled its population.
As a commercial centre Rosario is of great importance. Tapping the
greater portion of the rich provinces of Cordoba and Santa Fé, it
receives enormous quantities of wheat and other cereals as well as live
stock. It is accessible to ocean-going steamers, and hundreds of vessels
leave it each year loaded with food for the millions of Europe. The
Paraná River at this point is nearly a mile wide, and is an imposing, if
not beautiful, stream of water. The river has cut its channel down into
the soil to such a depth that the bluffs upon which Rosario is built
stand about sixty feet high. Warehouses line these bluffs, and the wheat
is transferred to the waiting vessels below by gravity. Each warehouse
has a long chute running down to the river bank through which the grain
is poured. It has been bagged on the _estancias_ and is shipped in the
same bags to Europe. As soon as a bag touches the chute it speeds down
the inclined plane into the waiting vessel. The bags follow one another
in quick succession. At harvest time the wheat often becomes congested at
this port.
Large port works have been constructed so that the docks have
accommodation for a goodly number of boats, although not comparing at all
with Buenos Aires in extent. From here the river lines carry passengers
up and down the Paraná for hundreds of miles, and then they branch off
to the Paraguay and Alta Paraná. Quite a network of railway lines also
converge at Rosario, and altogether it is a hustling and busy place.
The large and rich province of Santa Fé is second in importance only to
that of Buenos Aires. It is long and narrow, being several hundred miles
in length from its northern to its southern boundary, and is almost as
large as England. The capital of the province is the city of Santa Fé.
For a long time this little city was an unimportant place, even though
it was the provincial capital. To-day it is, after almost three hundred
and fifty years of existence, a place of about twenty-five thousand
inhabitants. It is proposed to deepen the channel so that ocean-going
steamers can reach this port, but this project will not be done before
“to-morrow.” The northern part of this province partakes of the character
of the Chaco and is undeveloped. At least three-fourths of the state,
however, is rich land, well suited for the cultivation of cereals, which
form the principal product, and have contributed most to the wealth.
There is usually sufficient rain in this province, but its nearness to
the Chaco makes it subject to a visitation which is almost equal in its
destructive qualities to that of the drouth.
The farmer everywhere thinks that he has his full share of troubles.
But the American farmer has never had to contend with the locusts to
the extent that frequently befalls the Argentinian. One who has never
seen a plague of locusts can scarcely appreciate the troubles undergone
by Pharaoh when the clouds of locusts appeared as a punishment for his
disobedience. The farmer in Argentina, however, can heartily sympathize
with the Egyptian king, and, like him, would be willing to do or promise
almost anything to secure relief from this enemy to his peace and
prosperity. During the past season these abominable insects destroyed
millions of dollars’ worth of grain in that republic, and roused the
people to greater efforts than ever to find some means of exterminating
them. In travelling across the country last winter, which is their
summer, I saw thousands of acres of corn absolutely stripped of all the
leaves, and millions upon millions of the winged locusts were visible
from the train, so thick in places as to almost cast a shadow.
The locust is blessed, or cursed, with a voracious and unquenchable
appetite. This appetite is perhaps equalled in extent only by the hatred
with which it is regarded by the farmer. Prior to 1905 Argentina had not
had a scourge of locusts for several years, but since that time they
have come almost every year. The first intimation of their approach is
usually in October, when a few flying locusts will appear coming from the
north. These seem to be the advance guard, for in a few days they are
followed by increasing hordes, until the clouds of insects are so thick
that they obscure the sun like passing clouds. Although these locusts
are so numerous they do not do so much damage, as they are migrating and
do not stay in one place long. A farmer may wake up some nice morning
and find his beautiful shade trees stripped almost bare by the locusts
that have alighted during the night. But in a day or two these will be
gone, although others may follow. Future trouble has been laid up for
him, however, for eggs have been laid by the millions. These are usually
deposited in a small hole which has been bored down in a bare space of
ground.
With the advent of the young locusts about six weeks later the real
troubles of the farmer have begun, and matters begin to wear a serious
aspect. The little gaudy-coloured creatures, with their yellow, green and
black bodies and red legs, are shaped very much like grasshoppers. They
cannot yet fly, and for that reason remain as the guests of the landowner
for several weeks while they are awaiting their final development. They
pass slowly along, jumping in grasshopper fashion from stem to stem,
or leaf to leaf. They cling in clusters to each leaf and stem like a
devouring army, and stay there until it is absolutely bare. The extent
of the damage which they are able to inflict can be seen by inspecting
a corn field after their visit. The transformation is as marvellous as
it is tragic. Every shred of the rich, luxuriant leaves and tassels has
disappeared, and only the thin, bare stalks, shivering and desolate,
remain. Even the houses will be invaded by these unpleasant creatures
(beasts, the Englishman would say), and to say that they are unwelcome
but mildly expresses the real feeling of the farmer who sees the fruit of
his toil thus disappearing before the hordes with insatiable appetites.
The only vegetable growth that will not be touched, except as a last
resort, is the Paraiso tree. They will eat everything else first, and
only fall back upon the leaves and bark of this tree when all other food
has failed.
In about six weeks the wings have developed and the “hoppers” become
“fliers.” Their bodies have waxed fatter, but their colouring has
become sobered. Then flights will again become noticeable. A swarm will
sometimes resemble a vast smoke-cloud from a burning city or straw stack.
They will oftentimes settle on the boughs of limbs in such quantities as
to cause the limbs to bend and crack beneath their weight. Carriages,
trucks and the fronts of locomotives will be thickly coated with the
fragments of the bodies of the insects, which they have killed. In such
armies, where numbers are countless, casualties go for nothing. A
trifling loss of a few thousand or a few millions is only a drop in the
ocean. You might as well try to stop a cloud passing across the sky by
shooting at it as a swarm of these insects.
One newspaper account, which I saw, reported: “The north and centre
of Entre Rios are simply covered with locusts both in the hopper and
flying stages. The city of Paraná was invaded by a swarm calculated to
be nine miles in front and several miles in depth, and so thick that the
sun was partially obscured. Other cities are hurriedly being enclosed
with screens in order to keep the locusts at bay. In places they have
completely devastated the vineyards, orchards and maize. In many places
a cry of desperation is heard. In the province of Santa Fé swarms of
fliers passed Santa Isabel bearing east; enormous swarms passed General
Lopez proceeding west; Monte Vera reports the passage of fliers towards
the north and south. The work of destruction goes on successfully. To-day
between Zarate, Pilar and Campaña were destroyed sixty-eight thousand
kilos (more than seventy-four tons) of saltona (hoppers).”
The farmer is in a quandary what to do. If he had only a hundred acres
to look after it would not be so difficult, but none of them have fewer
than thousands of acres. How to secure the labour to drive these locusts
is a difficult problem.
The government has passed laws requiring each landowner to maintain
men to fight the locusts, on the basis of about one to each thousand
acres. If this is not done the owner is fined. The general method is
to dig pitfalls three or four feet deep, the outer edge of which is
protected by overlapping sheets of corrugated iron. These traps run out
for some distance. The locusts, while still in the hopping stage, are
driven towards this trap until these pits are oftentimes nearly filled
up with their bodies. They are then covered up with a coating of earth,
and they die very quickly. If this work is thoroughly done it is quite
efficacious, but it is oftentimes difficult to get sufficient labour, for
it is unpleasant work because of the nauseating odour from the bodies of
the crushed locusts. Unless the work is systematically and thoroughly
done, however, it does not have much effect, for a few millions will
not be missed. If one man does his work well, and his neighbour is
indifferent to his duty, then his work is for naught, as they will soon
swarm over his land again from his neighbour’s fields. United effort
alone is efficacious, and that is what the government is endeavouring to
either induce or compel the people to do. It has a commission at work
studying this and other insect pests, and the best way to exterminate
them.
The source of these insects is not positively known. They come from the
north, in what is known as the Chaco, which is a vast wilderness little
known, and covering tens of thousands of square miles. Some think that
they come from the state of Matto Grosso, in Brazil, which is an empire
in itself just north of the Chaco. Accurate knowledge of the location of
their hatcheries is yet wanting. The insect is fortunate in having chosen
the wild and unexplored portion of the country for its home. The wisest
and surest method of getting rid of these locusts, in my opinion, would
be to search out this place and destroy them there. In that way it might
be possible within a very few years to absolutely rid the country from
this scourge of locusts as it is to-day.
[Illustration: AMONG THE HILLS OF CORDOBA]
No one knows any good purpose that the locust serves unless a chastening
against pride and vain glory. They are relished by the ostriches and
poultry, who devour them greedily. Chickens will enjoy a hearty meal
upon them, but the result is that the eggs are ruined for edible
purposes. The interior becomes dark, almost a wine colour, and they are
given a fishy flavour, which is altogether unpalatable. Thus the malice
of the locust towards man holds fast even in death, and makes him useless
as food for the fowls which frequent every barn-yard. It is little
wonder that the far-reaching cry comes up from Argentina for help and
deliverance from this awful pest.
Adjoining Santa Fé on the west is the still larger province of Cordoba.
The eastern part of this province is level, but the surface begins to
rise and is broken here and there by ridges and hills. During the summer
season many seek the hills of Cordoba to escape the heat of the summer.
There is a fine train service from Buenos Aires to Cordoba. This city
is about two hundred and forty-six miles beyond Rosario. The Central
Argentine runs through trains and makes the trip in about sixteen hours.
The railway reaches the hills quite a while before the city of Cordoba
is sighted, and there are a couple of little branches that run to Alta
Gracia and Rio Segundo respectively, each of which boasts a summer
colony. The former is quite noted as a health resort.
The city of Cordoba is the capital of the province of the same name,
and one of the most important commercial towns of the republic. It is
situated at an elevation of fourteen hundred feet and has a population
of almost fifty thousand. It lies in a hollow, and can hardly be seen by
the incoming traveller until almost upon the town itself. The woods and
hills, with the Rio Primero (first river), in the foreground, make a very
pretty picture. Cordoba has always been noted for its university, which
was granting learned degrees long before our own universities were even
thought of; and it has been granting them continuously ever since. It is
also a strong centre of Catholicism, and has more priests in proportion
to the population than any other city of Argentina. The public buildings
are all very creditable, of which the University, Cathedral, National
College, Normal School and government buildings are the principal. There
is quite a noted observatory located on a nearby height, which is under
the control of the national government. Its first director was a North
American. The work accomplished by this observatory has received high
praise from both Europe and America, and has aided much in the work of
studying the southern heavens. There are several pretty squares and
promenades. The many hotels are filled with a well dressed crowd of
people in summer, and much of the fashion of the capital is transferred
to this place for a few weeks.
From Cordoba the Cordoba Central Railway conveys the traveller through
a not very thickly settled country and across some salty marshes to the
fair city of Tucuman, which is situated in what is called the garden spot
of the republic. This city is about the same elevation and has about
the same temperature as Cordoba. “Have you seen Tucuman?” is a question
usually asked of the foreigner, for the Argentinians look upon this city
and district with a pardonable pride. Here is the effusive description of
a native writer, who becomes poetic in dwelling upon the beauties of this
favoured city.
“O Tucuman! thou the most beautiful among thy sisters, all hail to thee!
Whether I contemplate the level plain or lift up my eyes to the lofty
mountains encircling thee on the side of the Circola Massimo or the
Occaso, my soul is thrilled with delight and admiration. Nature, who
has been somewhat niggardly to thy companions, has lavished her gifts
on thee, her favoured one, because thou wert beautiful and beloved! To
thee she has given the vast plain of the Pampa, and bounded it with a
semicircle of hills so as to welcome the Alisian winds, that in return
for thy hospitality, enrich thee with the life-giving elements gathered
in their wanderings over numberless Alpine heights, and fraternize with
thy river, called by thee the Fondo, but changing its name over and over
again, according to the caprice of the friendly lands whose bosoms it
fertilizes. And if the sun shines on thee with burning rays, his heat is
tempered by the moisture dropping from the clouds as they are rent by
electricity, with sudden explosion, or prolonged thunder.
“Hence thy soil is verdant in the winter, and in spring is adorned with
innumerable flowers—a treasure-house of exotics—giving place one to the
other for thy embellishment during half the year; and in the summer and
autumn thou gatherest abundantly the fruits of a few growths.”
The city is laid out in the usual checkerboard fashion, with extremely
narrow streets. In a public hall here the declaration of independence was
signed on the 9th of July, 1816. There are a number of large churches,
a cathedral and several schools. The spiritual welfare of the people is
not neglected through lack of opportunity to attend service. There is
a public library, a theatre, etc. It is an ancient town, having been
founded in what was then a remote district, in 1585. It is in sight of
some very high peaks of the Andes, although a considerable distance away.
Tucuman is in the centre of a rich sugar district, there being about
thirty sugar factories at work. Almost one hundred thousand tons of sugar
have been produced in a single year, in addition to large quantities of
alcohol. Rice growing is also quite a feature of this district. The soil
is carefully cultivated and irrigation is resorted to by many of the
planters, for an abundance of water is easily obtained. The climate is
what might be termed semi-tropical. Tucuman is the last city of any size
or great importance in the northwestern provinces.
North of Tucuman are the provinces of Salta and Jujuy, both of which
reach to the borders of Bolivia. To the west of Tucuman lie the
provinces of Rioja and Catamarca, as well as the territory of Los Andes,
all of which border Chile. These are all mountainous states, but they
are neither small nor unimportant. The smallest one is as large as
Massachusetts, Rhode Island and Maryland, and the largest one, Salta, is
nearly as large as all of New England. The altitude of the towns varies
from Rioja, the capital of the province of the same name, at an altitude
of only seventeen hundred feet, to Jujuy, capital of that province,
which lies four thousand two hundred and seventy feet above sea level,
and is the highest city in the republic. Jujuy is distant just about one
thousand miles from Buenos Aires by railroad, and is at the foot of the
spurs of the range of mountains that reach up into Bolivia. Although so
near the Tropic of Capricorn yet the elevation prevents the extreme heat
that prevails in the lowlands during the summer, while the freezing point
is never reached in winter. The scenery in the neighbourhood of this city
is really beautiful, for hill and valley, wood and plain all contribute
to make up an enchanting landscape. When the connection with the Bolivian
railway is completed this city will be on another transcontinental line
from the Atlantic to the Pacific. The territory of Los Andes, in the
extreme northwestern corner of the country, is the most mountainous
section and is very little known.
The provinces of Cordoba and Santa Fé are the home of many beautiful
birds. One of the most gorgeous of humming-birds is to be found here.
Its body is green streaked with gold, with a vivid scarlet tail. A
common song bird is the _bien te veo_ (I see you well), so named because
its song is supposed to represent those words. The call, which is an
extremely musical one, is repeated over and over again. It is brightly
coloured and is a species of thrush. The oven-bird is a favourite bird
and is looked upon much as the robin with us. It is chiefly remarkable
for its nest, which is built of mud and is entered by a doorway. The
nests are usually built upon any convenient post, and in places one will
find half of the telephone and telegraph posts surmounted by one of these
nests. It is a common saying that the oven-bird will not, under any
consideration, build its nest on a Sunday.
There are many birds of the vulture tribe in Argentina. Patagonia is
especially a wonderful country for these birds of prey. Of these the
chinango is a small carrion-hawk of a brown-gray colour. Another is the
carancho, which is very common throughout the Camp. This bird is a dark
brown with a light band across the wings. These two birds prefer carrion,
but will attack enfeebled and helpless small animals such as hares or
lambs.
“Next comes the condor, awful bird,
On the mountains’ highest tops,
Has been known to eat up boys and girls
And then to lick its chops.”
Thus runs the nursery rhyme about the chief of the larger army of the
vulture tribe, which is common in the states adjacent to the Andes. Seen
against the pale blue of the sky, swerving in graceful circles at a great
height amidst the inner solitudes of the Andine peaks, its stately flight
and grand spread of motionless wing make it seem like a noble bird. On a
nearer view it shares the repulsive appearance of all birds that feed on
dead animal flesh. Eagles are scarce in the Andes, and the condors take
their place. They are difficult to approach unless they are gorged so
that they cannot fly. Their size is enormous. One writer tells of killing
one in Patagonia that measured nine feet, three inches across the
outstretched pinions, and some of even greater size are reported. They
are sometimes four feet long from tip of beak to tail. They hatch their
young amid the snow-covered crags at an altitude of twenty thousand feet,
so it is said, for they can endure a temperature which renders human
existence impossible.
These birds, which fly so high that they become mere specks on the
intense blue of the skies, exceed the vulture in their ability to
discover a dead carcass. It has been said that they will follow a mule
train a long distance waiting for a disabled animal to be left behind.
If a sick animal, large or small, is found they will immediately pluck
out the eyes, and then wait for the animal to die before eating it. They
fly so high that it is impossible to shoot them, and the only way to kill
the condor is to place a dead animal as a decoy and then lay in ambush
until the birds appear. It is one thing to admire these birds wheeling in
graceful circles on quiescent wing, but it would be quite another for the
lonely and helpless traveller out among the hills where no help was near.
Long before aid could come this powerful and unscrupulous bird might
discover the helpless one. These gigantic birds have been tamed when
captured at a sufficiently early age. Some have found them interesting
pets, but their immense size soon makes their presence very undesirable
around the house and farmyard.
Argentina is undoubtedly rich in mineral deposits which have as yet
scarcely been touched. All along the Andes, from Bolivia, herself
extremely rich in the precious metals, to Tierra del Fuego, traces
of silver, gold and copper have been found. The indifference to the
exploitation of this mineral wealth may be due to the lack of available
capital, the difficulties of transportation of the ore and the scarcity
of fuel in the mineral zones of the country. The exports of all minerals
do not reach half a million dollars yearly, of which copper is one of
the principal items. The early history of the country records a story
of marvellous wealth dug from the earth. The future may have a still
greater story to tell. The workings of many of these earlier mines have
been absolutely lost. The locations of mines from which fabulous wealth
was wrung are unknown to-day. Some of these mines date back to the early
conquerors, and others to the Incas themselves, who overran this section
of the country. Ancient bronze instruments of that race have been found
here, giving indisputable evidence of that fact, although it is doubtful
if they ever had a permanent abode in these mountains. The Indians used
to bring tributes of gold to the priests, but would not reveal the site
of the hidden mines.
The principal mines of Argentina, that are being worked to-day, are
in the provinces of Rioja and Catamarca, in the northwestern part of
the republic, and in Mendoza. The most important are undoubtedly the
Famatima copper mines of Rioja. The government has recently constructed
a wonderful aerial wire ropeway here which is really a marvel and has
greatly aided in transporting the metals. The main ropeway is nearly
twenty-five miles in length, with its highest terminal nearly fourteen
thousand feet above sea level. Power is available for control and to
assist the upward traffic. One span of this wonderful ropeway is half a
mile in length where it cuts across a deep valley.
Argentina possesses some fine marble quarries and their production
has been gradually increasing. The production of gold and silver is
comparatively small. Within the past year petroleum has been found near
Mendoza, and a number of good wells have been sunk. If this valuable oil
can be found in large quantities it will go a long ways toward solving
the problem of cheaper fuel. Nearly three million tons of coal are
imported annually to supply the need of fuel. Nearly all of this coal is
imported from England, the shipments from the United States in 1909 being
only a few thousand tons, but petroleum products are nearly all imported
from North America. The value of the products of the mines of Argentina
will average nearly a million dollars a year.