By LADY FLORENCE DIXIE.
The following animated description of ostrich hunting in Patagonia is
taken from a book by Lady Florence Dixie, published by R. Worthington,
New York:
As we rode silently along, with our eyes well about us, in the hopes
of sighting an ostrich, my horse suddenly shied at something white
lying on the ground at a few paces distant. Throwing the reins over his
head, I dismounted and walked toward the spot. Amongst some long grass
I discovered a deserted nest of an ostrich containing ten or eleven
eggs, and calling François to examine them, was greatly chagrined
to find that none of them were fresh. With the superstition of an
ostrich-hunter François picked up a feather lying close at hand, and
sticking it in his cap, assured us that this was a good sign, and that
it would not be long before we came across one of these birds.
His prediction was speedily verified, for on reaching the summit of
a little hill, up which we had slowly and stealthily proceeded, two
small gray objects suddenly struck my eye. I signed to François and
my brother, who were riding some twenty yards behind me, and putting
spurs to my horse, galloped down the hill toward the two gray objects
I had perceived in the distance. “Choo! choo!” shouted François, a cry
by which the ostrich-hunters cheer their dogs on, and intimate to them
the proximity of game. Past me like lightning the four eager animals
rushed, bent on securing the prey which their quick sight had already
detected.
The ostriches turned one look on their pursuers, and the next moment
they wheeled round, and making for the plain, scudded over the ground
at a tremendous pace.
And now, for the first time, I began to experience all the glorious
excitement of an ostrich-hunt. My little horse, keen as his rider, took
the bit between his teeth, and away we went up and down the hills at a
terrific pace. On and on flew the ostriches, closer and closer crept
up “Leona,” a small, red, half-bred Scotch deerhound, with “Loca,” a
wiry black lurcher at her heels, who in turn was closely followed by
“Apiscuña” and “Sultan.” In another moment the little red dog would
be alongside the ostriches. Suddenly, however, they twisted right and
left respectively, scudding away in opposite directions over the plain,
a feint which of course gave them a great advantage, as the dogs in
their eagerness shot forward a long way before they were able to stop
themselves. By the time they had done so the ostriches had got such a
start that, seeing pursuit was useless, we called the dogs back. We
were very much disappointed at our failure, and in no very pleasant
frame of mind turned our horses’ heads in the direction of our camp.
We were a good deal chaffed when we got home on the score of our
non-success, and over pipes and coffee that night a serious council of
war was held by the whole of our party, as regards ostrich-hunting for
the morrow.
Forming a circle was suggested. This being the method by which the
Indians nearly always obtain game. It is formed by lighting fires round
a large area of ground into which the different hunters ride from all
sides. A complete circle of blazing fires is thus obtained, and any
game found therein is pretty sure to become the prey of the dogs, as no
ostrich or guanaco will face a fire. Wherever they turn they see before
them a column of smoke, or are met by dogs and horsemen. Escape becomes
almost impossible, and it is not long before they grow bewildered and
are captured.
Next morning, the horses being all ready, we lost no time in springing
into the saddle. For about half an hour we followed along a line of
broken hillocks, after which, calling a halt, we sent forward Guillaume
and I’Aria to commence the first and most distant proceedings of the
circle. They departed at a brisk canter, and it was not long before
several rising columns of smoke testified that they were already
busily engaged.
For some time Gregorio and I rode slowly and silently on our way,
when a sudden unexpected bound which my horse gave all but unseated
me. “Avestruz! Avestruz!” shouted Gregorio, and turned his horse with
a quick movement. “Choo! choo! Plata!” I cry to the dog who followed
at my horse’s heels, as a fine male ostrich scudded away toward the
hills we had just left with the speed of lightning. Plata has sighted
him, and is straining every limb to reach the terrified bird. He is
a plucky dog and a fleet one, but it will take him all his time to
come alongside that great raking ostrich as he strides away in all the
conscious pride of his strength and speed. “We shall lose him!” I cry,
half mad with excitement, spurring my horse, who is beginning to gasp
and falter as the hill up which we are struggling grows steeper and
steeper. But the ostrich suddenly doubles to the left, and commences
a hurried descent. The cause is soon explained, for in the direction
toward which he has been making a great cloud of smoke rises menacingly
in his path, and, balked of the refuge he had hoped to find amidst the
hills, the great bird is forced to alter his course, and make swiftly
for the plains below. But swiftly as he flies along, so does Plata, who
finds a down-hill race much more suited to his splendid shoulders and
rare stride. Foot by foot he lessens the distance that separates him
from his prey, and gets nearer and nearer to the fast sinking, fast
tiring bird. Away we go, helter-skelter down the hill, unchecked and
undefeated by the numerous obstacles that obstruct the way. Plata is
alongside the ostrich, and gathers himself for a spring at the bird’s
throat. “He has him, he has him!” I shout to Gregorio, who does not
reply, but urges his horse on with whip and spur. “Has he got him,
though?” Yes—no—the ostrich with a rapid twist has shot some thirty
yards ahead of his enemy, and whirling round, makes for the hills
once more. And now begins the struggle for victory. The ostrich has
decidedly the best of it, for Plata, though he struggles gamely, does
not like the uphill work, and at every stride loses ground. There is
another fire on the hill above, but it lies too much to the left to
attract the bird’s attention, who has evidently a safe line of escape
in view in that direction. On, on we press; on, on flies the ostrich;
bravely and gamely struggles in its wake poor Plata. “Can he stay?” I
cry to Gregorio, who smiles and nods his head. He is right, the dog can
stay, for hardly have the words left my lips when, with a tremendous
effort, he puts on a spurt, and races up alongside the ostrich. Once
more the bird points for the plain; he is beginning to falter, but he
is great and strong, and is not beaten yet. It will take all Plata’s
time and cunning to pull that magnificent bird to the ground, and it
will be a long fierce struggle ere the gallant creature yields up his
life. Unconscious of anything but the exciting chase before me, I am
suddenly disagreeably reminded that there _is_ such a thing as caution,
and necessity to look where you are going to, for, putting his foot
in an unusually deep tuca-tuca hole, my little horse comes with a
crash upon his head, and turns completely over on his back, burying
me beneath him in a hopeless muddle. Fortunately, beyond a shaking,
I am unhurt, and remounting, endeavor to rejoin the now somewhat
distant chase. The ostrich, Gregorio, and the dog have reached the
plain, and as I gallop quickly down the hill I can see that the bird
has begun doubling. This is a sure sign of fatigue, and shows that
the ostrich’s strength is beginning to fail him. Nevertheless it is a
matter of no small difficulty for one dog to secure his prey, even at
this juncture, as he can not turn and twist about as rapidly as the
ostrich. At each double the bird shoots far ahead of his pursuer, and
gains a considerable advantage. Away across the plain the two animals
fly, whilst I and Gregorio press eagerly in their wake. The excitement
grows every moment more intense, and I watch the close struggle going
on with the keenest interest. Suddenly the stride of the bird grows
slower, his doubles become more frequent, showers of feathers fly in
every direction as Plata seizes him by the tail, which comes away in
his mouth. In another moment the dog has him by the throat, and for a
few minutes nothing can be distinguished but a gray struggling heap.
Then Gregorio dashes forward and throws himself off his horse, breaks
the bird’s neck, and when I arrive upon the scene the struggle is over.
The run had lasted for twenty-five minutes.
Our dogs and horses were in a most pitiable state. Poor Plata lay
stretched on the ground with his tongue, hot and fiery, lolling out of
his mouth, and his sides going at a hundred miles an hour. The horses,
with their heads drooped till they almost touched the ground, and their
bodies streaming with perspiration, presented a most pitiable sight,
and while Gregorio disemboweled and fastened the ostrich together,
I loosened their girths, and led them to a pool hard by to drink.
At length they became more comfortable, and as soon as they seemed
in a fit state to go on, Gregorio and I lifted the huge bird on to
his horse, and tied it across the animal’s withers. Encumbered thus,
Gregorio turned to depart in the direction of the camp, followed by
Plata, while I went in an opposite direction in search of my companions
down in the plain. It was not long before I distinguished in the
far distance an ostrich coming straight toward me, closely followed
by a dog and two horsemen. Galloping to meet them, I was the means
of turning the bird into “Peaché’s” jaws, for such was the name of
I’Aria’s dog. The two horsemen turned out to be the old fellow in
question and my brother, who arrived, hot and full of excitement,
on the scene just as I was throwing myself from my horse to prevent
Peaché from tearing the bird to pieces. Leaving I’Aria to complete
the hunter’s work, my brother and I rode slowly back toward our camp,
discussing the merits of our horses, dogs, and the stamina of the two
ostriches we had slain.
One by one the other hunters dropped in. They had all been successful,
with the exception of Guillaume; and as we stood grouped round the
five large ostriches lying on the ground, we congratulated ourselves
on our good fortune, and on the excellent sport we had had. At dinner
we passed judgment on ostrich-meat, which we now really tasted for the
first time, for what we had obtained from the Indian camp had been dry
and unpalatable. We thought it excellent; the breast and wings are
particularly good; the latter much resemble pheasant.