_The Camp_
To a European the farms of South America offer such contrasts to those
he is familiar with in his own country that he finds it difficult to
become accustomed to the immense areas of treeless plains that
constitute the estancias of the New World. Everything is on a large
scale there. A vast territory, now gently rolling like a heaving sea,
now flat as an unruffled lake, with few objects to break the eternal
straightness of the distant horizon. The atmosphere and the many
illusions it creates offer the greatest variety, however, and as day
succeeds day with ceaseless regularity ever changing effects of light
and colour diversify the aspect of the landscape. The roads through
these unbounded plains are wide-extended tracks, fenced in from the
private pastures of the estancias, going generally straight for scores
of miles. Driving along these tracks behind four horses in a light
covered trap the stranger’s ear is open to receive the softest sound,
and eyes to note the slightest variations presented. The silence is
broken by the fluttering flight of parrots, pigeons, and small brown
owls disturbed from their solemn doze by the approaching team, moving on
from perch to perch, always settling ahead to be disturbed again. The
lowing of the cattle, the swift stampede of groups of wild horses, and
the vast hum of insects break faintly upon the ear. Along the track and
in the adjacent fields the whitening bones of animals stare out from the
rich verdure that has not quite enwrapped them. These pathetic reminders
of the fate that overtakes many of the herd are very plentiful, for
whenever an animal dies in the camp, the skin only is removed by the
gaucho or cowboy, who comes across it in his daily round, and the
carcase is left for the hawks and other carrion-eaters, who lose no time
in stripping it of flesh, time and the elements slowly completing the
dissolution, and eventually removing the last vestiges of the animal’s
existence.
[Illustration: CHASING RHEAS.]
From the beginning to the end of a journey tall rheas flit across the
scene. These birds, the ostriches of South America, abound in many
districts. They formerly had a geographical range extending from
Southern Brazil and Uruguay to as far south as the Rio Negro in distant
Patagonia. But the incursions of man, who slew thousands of them for
their feathers, have cleared the more cultivated districts, and now they
are mostly found on the camps of Uruguay, and the provinces of
Corrientes and Missiones, and Paraguay. The _Rhea americana_ resembles
its distant relative in South Africa in general appearance, but differs
widely when inspected closely. It boasts three toes, and thus goes one
better than the ostrich. It is true its plumage cannot compete with that
of the latter bird, for it lacks the beautiful curly wing and tail
feathers. This is perhaps an advantage to the bird, although a loss to
the country. The feathers of the head and neck are a dingy white, those
on the crown of the head are of a brownish hue, while the under feathers
of the belly and thigh are white, the body feathers being a grey-brown
colour. These feathers can only serve the useful purpose of making
brushes, and have no claims to be promoted to the high office of
adorning ladies’ bonnets. The rhea is a polygamous bird, and the male so
thoroughly domesticated that he performs the duty of hatching out the
eggs of several of his wives. Their nests of dried grass are easily
found, for they have no protection save the long grass that grows around
them. On the approach of danger the parent birds sitting upon the nests
rise and take to flight, running with rapid strides and outstretched
wings, and soon are lost to sight in the airy distance of the plains. On
most of the camps the chasing of the birds is forbidden, although
instructions are given to destroy their eggs. The race between bird and
mounted pursuer disturbs the herds, and does more harm to the live stock
than would be compensated for by the feathers that may be plucked. On
some native estancias the practice obtains of leasing out the right to
capture the birds and pluck them. This is accomplished by throwing three
heavy balls attached to the end of a long line round the legs of the
running birds. The horseman chases the bird, and swinging the balls
round, lets fly with the captive shots, which, if the aim is true, wind
the rope round the victim’s legs and quickly bring him to earth. The
desired feathers are plucked, and the denuded bird allowed to escape. It
is no uncommon thing, however, to see a few gauchos for pure sport
surreptitiously chasing these birds. The excitement of the chase appeals
to men who live in the saddle, and who love to show off the fleetness of
their steeds, and even a chance spectator who witnesses the wild rush of
bird and horse across country cannot help catching some of the
enthusiasm, and strains his vision to its utmost to witness the finish
of a race. There is no shelter for the bird, no way of escaping the
unwelcome attentions of his pursuer except by sheer fleetness and
endurance. The illimitable camp stretches around for hundreds of miles,
and the essential qualities of bird and horse have a fair field and no
favour. The rhea is a sociable bird, and is generally found in untrodden
regions of the continent, grazing with the llamas and wild cattle in
close proximity to or on the estancias that are under man’s control,
along with the great herds of sheep and cattle. In this he is like the
ostrich, who accepts the companionship of the antelope and zebra of his
native land. There is plenty of room on the great plains for all, and
they live at peace with neighbours who offer no competition in the
struggle for existence. Another curiosity of the camp is the little
“armadillo.” It is true one has to search for them, for they are
nocturnal in their habits, and not often encountered in the daytime.
They are well protected with a hard, strong shell which covers their
backs, and when in danger they can move very quickly on their short,
strong legs, or can bury themselves underground until the danger that
threatens them is past. Night is the best time to catch them, and dogs
are used in the pursuit. The armadillo is found all over South America,
and in the lone caves of Brazil the fossil remains of gigantic ancestors
of this creature as large as the rhino of Africa have frequently been
discovered. The armadillos generally feed on roots, worms, and insects,
and they assist the hawks and other carrion-eaters to dispose of the
putrefying carcases of cattle, sheep, and horses that strew the camp.
The flesh of this armour-plated animal is eaten, and is considered a
delicacy by the natives all over the country from north to south. It is
generally roasted or smoked in its shell, and the Indians of the Guiana
will gorge themselves upon this dish whenever they have an opportunity.
The great distances that separate many of the estancias from the
stations or ports give employment to thousands of horses, and the usual
method of travelling is either by riding or driving in light covered
carts drawn by four horses. If the journey is very long, eight horses
are taken, half of them drawing the carriage, the other half being
driven on in front, and harnessed at some half-way point, an estancia or
“pulperia,” where the first team is released and allowed to rest until
the return of the conveyance from its destination. These pulperia or
native stores are very primitive affairs. A few sticks mud-plastered
form the walls, mother earth the floor, while reeds and grasses thatch
the roof. When the traveller arrives at one of these he generally finds
a few horses, with fore feet hobbled, dozing under the shade cast by a
few trees that are planted round the huts, swishing their tails to keep
away the flies. Inside the hut or store two or three gauchos squat on
boxes, bags, or barrels, and in the intervals of drinking their native
spirit, “bolichi” (a fiery, untamed brand), chat with the “bolichero” or
publican. The talk is all of the
[Illustration: A “PULPERIA.”]
camp, for the outside world of civilisation is only a name to them, and
the echoes of its doings fall but faintly upon their ears. Horses,
cattle, the doings of the neighbouring estancias are discussed with the
dark-bearded host, who is the newsvendor to the country-side. Shepherds
from far outlying “puestos,” who live in solitary isolation from even
the other gauchos of the estancias, find their visits to these wayside
inns the principal excitement of their lives. Long journeys of scores of
miles, that would be an expedition to an English horseman, are nothing
to them. They are as much at home and at their ease in their great
saddles, as a club man is in a smoking-room chair, and they can sleep in
them as easily as in their beds. The gaucho and his horse are one,
inseparable, and if the animal is his own and not one belonging to the
estancia, he takes extravagant care of it. With his poncho to keep off
the rain, his cigar or cigarette, his “maté” to make his tea in, the
gaucho is equipped for any emergency. In some of the “pulperias” there
are small billiard tables, not too level; for they rest upon the soft
earthen floor, and when not in play are often as not used for seats by
the gossips who may happen to forgather. Primitive, yet affording much
of the luxury the gaucho finds in his hard life, here also he can
replenish his wardrobe and his larder, for belts, knives, “alpagatos”
(shoes with rope soles and canvas tops), ponchos, hang all round, and in
sacks upon the ground manioca or meal lies ready for a purchaser. The
goods retailed are of the cheapest description, most of them of German
origin, and especially made to suit the gauchos’ requirements. Primitive
ideas obtain amongst these people, and many superstitions too. In one of
these “pulperias” I noticed a small pup of only a few days old, lying
upon the floor whining piteously for its mother; and on my noticing it,
the bolichero explained that it was in transit to a native woman who was
suffering from a too liberal secretion of milk. The dress of the gauchos
of Uruguay and in the northern provinces of Argentina is strongly
reminiscent of the quaint costumes worn by the old-fashioned residents
in the island of Marken in the Zuyder Zee. The great baggy trousers
called “bombachos” are the feature of the dress common to both, and are
so distinctive that one wonders if there can be any connection between
them. At all events, they are well suited for riding in a hot climate,
for they permit the air to circulate freely about the nether limbs.
Apart from the bombachos, the dress of the gaucho has but little in
common with the old-time Dutchman, unless it be the tight waistcoats and
close-fitting sleeves of the shirts affected by many of them.
They are fond of a touch of colour, however, and although the material
out of which their bombachos are made is generally of natural tints,
their socks will vie with the most glaring necktie of a Brazilian
gentleman. Emerald-green, sky-blue, chrome-yellow, and scarlet-vermilion
fresh placed upon a palette are not more striking, and all these are
generally selected to enhance
[Illustration: MORNING: GOING TO WORK.]
the beauty of their ponchos. The poncho is an overall, a gigantic
fore-and-aft bib, sleeveless, but an admirable protection from the heat
and rain. Hanging loosely from the shoulders, it covers the arms in its
ample folds, and, like the “bombachos,” allows the air to blow round the
heated body. This narrow sheet, with a slit in the middle, is found all
over South America and in Mexico, and it has many advantages to
recommend it over a sleeved garment. In Chili and Peru the better ones
are made out of the llama wool, so fine and hard that they are almost
impervious to rain, while their lightness is such that their weight is
hardly felt. A good poncho in Chili or Peru often costs as much as £20,
but those worn by the gauchos of Argentine and Uruguay are quite cheap
and tawdry in comparison. The gaucho takes a great pride in the
accoutrements of his horse, and he spends considerable time and pains to
have his best Sunday or holiday saddle and bridle replete with a
collection of old Spanish coins nailed on to the leather wherever
opportunity offers. Brilliant red plush or dyed sheepskin is placed over
the saddle, and when he is mounted wearing his best “poncho” and
“bombachos,” and broad sombrero hat, he cuts a brave figure to go
courting. On the camp his life is one of simple monotony, one continuous
round of hard riding and attending to the cattle, searching the herds
for sickness or rounding them up into “rodeo” to separate those that are
ready for the journey to the “saladero,” “frigorifico,” or meat factory,
branding the young cattle with the mark of the estancia, either by
slitting their ears or puncturing them, or with the hot iron burning in
a distinctive number upon the haunch. He rises at daylight, generally
about five o’clock, and in the common, soot-stained kitchen--the
“cocina” cuts a great hunk of roasted beef, takes a small handful of
farina, and washes this down with draughts of yerba sucked through the
“bombilla” (a little tube of metal
[Illustration: EVENING.]
with a bulbous strainer) from the little scooped-out gourd or maté which
he always carries with him. Then his day’s work begins. After harnessing
his horse, he mounts and separates from his companions, each of whom
takes a different direction--riding out to the particular paddock
allotted to his care. In his long, lonely patrol he keeps his eye ever
on the alert to discover any sick or dead animals that may be lying in
the long grass. His keen and practised eye watches the flight of the
carrion-birds, and when he sees these greedy scavengers gathering
together he knows their quarry is not far off. With these to guide him,
he searches till he finds the carcase, which he carefully inspects to
ascertain the cause of death. If it is of a malignant nature, he gathers
together dried grass and scrub with branches of trees, which he often
has to go miles to discover, and placing them round the carcase, sets
fire to it, to prevent infection from spreading to the herds. If the
cause of death is not of this nature he quickly removes the hide, ties
it upon his saddle, and continues on his round of inspection. It is six
or seven hours before he returns to the estancia, where he pegs out the
hides he has brought with him before sitting down to his “almuerzo,” or
midday meal. This eleven o’clock repast varies slightly from the one he
partook of in the early morning, consisting as it does of “puchero,” or
boiled meat instead of roasted. The meal finished, there are duties
about the steading to be seen to, and in the heat of the day the siesta
to be indulged in. At three o’clock he has another meal, consisting of
maté alone, before going out again to the camp; and on his return at
seven in the evening he talks over the details of the day’s doings with
his fellows over another meal of the boiled beef, “maté,” and farina.
After a smoke, a little music from a banjo or guitar played with an
untutored skill by one of the party, they seek their beds--simple
pallets of canvas stretched between collapsible trestles, something like
exaggerated camp-stools. Next day the same round of duties awaits him,
except for the variations that arise at special seasons when
sheep-shearing, cattle-branding, calf-gelding, horse-breaking are going
forward. Large numbers of horses run and breed practically in a wild
state upon the estancias, and the task of breaking them in falls to the
gauchos. This is an art and a pastime that they revel in, and as they
are paid extra for every colt that they render fit for riding, there is
no dearth of volunteers for this necessary part of the estancia work. A
herd of horses is driven up by a bunch of horsemen into a corral. The
colt or filly to be broken is singled out and lassoed by one of the men,
who drags it out into the open. More lassoes are fastened round the fore
and hind legs, and the animal is brought to earth. After a raw-hide bit
is fastened round its lower jaw, the frightened creature is allowed to
regain a standing position, and is hitched up to a post. One man covers
its eyes, whilst a great bundle of soft sheepskins is being fastened
securely on its back. All this time the fore legs are kept firmly tied
together. When all is ready, the man who is to break it in grasps the
raw-hide bridle, and jumps lightly on its back. Then the struggle
between man and brute commences in grim earnest. With a powerful whip
the man belabours the struggling steed, and with a horseman riding on
either side to guide the wild beast, the trio gallop off across the
plain at a break-neck pace. Before this mad race is started, the untamed
one struggles and bucks to rid himself of the unnatural encumbrance. He
rolls on the
[Illustration: PEGGING OUT HIDES.]
ground, lowers his head, and throws his unshod heels high into the air,
and then finding that all his efforts are vain, he tears off in a wild
fury, hoping to get relief. The race continues until the brute’s
strength weakens, and he is turned by the accompanying riders, for he
does not yet understand, nor if he could, would he yield to the guidance
of the bridle. When the trio return to the “corral,” where a crowd of
gauchos have stood witnessing the fun, the exhausted animal is relieved
of man, saddle, and bridle, and is turned loose amongst his fellows in
the corral. Then they are all set at liberty to roam the paddock till
the next day, when the operation is repeated. It takes many lessons to
break in a horse, and the sudden change from the completest freedom to
the fastest bondage is no doubt very irksome to the animal. After about
three or four weeks of training, however, the horse’s lesson is learnt,
and the man’s reward is earned. There still exists on some estancias the
primitive custom of branding the cattle in almost as rough a fashion as
the breaking in of the horses. The herds are rounded up by the horseman
into a great bunch, called a rodeo. The unbranded are lassoed by the
head and horns, and dragged out of the bellowing crowd. Another lasso is
thrown and captures the hind legs, and the animal, then completely
overcome, is thrown on its side and the branding iron applied. In modern
camps an easier method is employed. The cattle are “corralled” and
driven through a long spar-railed passage in which gates are arranged
for the purpose of dividing the cattle into different groups, so that as
the animals move along, and one is required to go one way, a gate is
opened, allowing it to pass out, the gate closing behind it, and leaving
the passage free for the next to move into another division if desired.
The branding is performed in this passage. One man grasps the animal’s
tail and pulls it through the open fence of the “race” or passage,
whilst another catches the horns and holds the head firmly against the
opposite side. If the brand is to be applied to the rump, the position
is in every way favourable for performing that operation; should the
brand of the estancia be an ear-mark, the head is in an equally
advantageous position.
Branding is a very necessary precaution against cattle-stealing. When an
“estanciero” parts with his cattle, he duplicates the brand and the new
owner applies his, so that the animal has three brands upon it. This
prevents stealing, for if an animal has only one brand of its original
owner, it is obvious to the authorities that it has not been
legitimately acquired. A brand in duplicate upon an animal is evidence
that it is no longer in the possession of the owner of that brand.
Should he, however, repurchase one of his former stock, it will have
four brands upon it, the two original ones and the two added by the last
owner. Transactions, however, of this kind are not of frequent
occurrence. Ear-marking is a form of branding that in some instances
looks very unsightly, as, for instance, when both ears are slit down,
giving the animal the appearance of having four ears.
[Illustration: AN “ESTANCIA.”]
The sheep and cattle dips which are necessary to rid the herds of ticks
and other insects, form landmarks on the camps, as do the iron-frame
windmills which pump up the water for the stock. There has been much
discussion recently as to what is the coat of arms of the Argentine
Republic, and this nice question in heraldry has not yet been settled.
To a stranger the matter seems simple enough, for nothing could be more
suitable than a windmill revolving against an azure sky, or a herd
romping on a “field vert.”
The “corrals” and runs upon the estancia are used for many purposes,
such as dividing the old from the young, the bulls and heifers from the
cows, the animals that are to be sold from their brothers and sisters
that are not yet ready for disposal. Other “runs” are used for dipping
purposes. In these the floor of the “runs” gradually descends into a
long trough through which the animals have to swim, their heads being
pushed under by men armed with long poles, who are stationed on the
fences at either side. Sheep are handled in the same way. The dipping
corrals are situated on different parts of the estancia in selected
positions, and when these are at a long distance from the farmhouse the
men, when employed there, cook their meals of great lumps of beef over a
blaze of crackling sticks. The meat is hooked on to a long iron bar
which is stuck upright in the ground, and the savoury smell of the
roasting, crackling meat fills the air. When it is ready the spit is
removed from the fire and stuck in the ground a little distance off, and
the men gather round, and with their knives hack off great chunks
weighing three or four pounds, and set to with the meat in one hand and
the knife in the other, satisfying their healthy appetites. There is
great waste at all these meals; the joint is not nearly consumed, and
what is left is thrown into the long grass or into the dying embers of
the fire. A kettle is always carried by one or other of the men to make
the “maté” tea which washes down every meal. Yerba has a great
reputation, and is largely consumed all over the southern parts of
Brazil, Uruguay, and the Argentine, and even further south. To Europeans
it is generally known by the name of Paraguayan tea, for, although it
grows in Brazil, Corrientes, and the Chaco, its real home is in
Paraguay, where it flourishes in great abundance, and its cultivation
and collection form one of the principal industries. It is simply the
dried leaves of a shrub that very much resembles the common holly bush.
It has been in use by the Indians for centuries, although it was due to
the untiring agricultural efforts of the Jesuits that its cultivation
was first introduced. The plantations they made in Paraguay, Missiones,
and Rio Grande de Sul are still to the fore, and from these cultivated
shrubs the best tea is obtained even at the present time, and it
sometimes goes by the name of “Jesuits’” or “Missiones tea.”
The collecting and preparation of the leaves of this shrub are generally
performed by the Guarani Indians of the surrounding districts. The
old-fashioned and native method of preparing the maté or yerba is quite
primitive. A group of semi-nomadic Indians will search for a “Yerbula”
or natural
[Illustration: GAUCHO PREPARING A MEAL.]
wood where the supply is plentiful, and after forming a small camp of
brush huts, proceed to collect and prepare the leaves for market. They
clear a space of ground which they beat hard until it resembles a dark
cemented floor, and upon this they pile the leafy branches of the tree.
A fire is lit around this, care being taken not to ignite the branches
and leaves, which undergo by this means a primitive process of roasting.
The dried leaves are then reduced to powder in rough mortars formed by
making holes in the ground, the surfaces of which are rammed hard by
wooden mallets. The dusty mass is then packed and conveyed to the river
banks, where it is shipped to a central market. A more improved method
of roasting or drying the maté is practised, however, in Paraguay, where
large iron pans are used for drying, and machinery is used for reducing
the leaves, from which the central rib of the leaf has been removed, to
a fine powder. The word maté, which is generally used to designate the
tea, applies really to the gourd in which it is brewed, and is an old
French word for “calabash.” It still is used in that sense, although
very generally applied to the tea. The consumption of maté or yerba[1]
throughout South America is very large, and is on the increase. It takes
the place of China tea, and is supposed to have many virtues which
neither tea nor coffee possesses. That it is sustaining there is every
reason to believe; that it has a less injurious effect than tea or
coffee on the system does not seem to be demonstrated; but the fact
remains that the people believe in it, and have acquired a taste for it,
which is largely contributed to by its cheapness. It is not agreeable to
the taste of a novice, and when the “maté” is handed to the visitor, it
is generally too hot for his unaccustomed palate. The addition of a
little sugar helps to render it more pleasing to some judgments, but the
gauchos on the camp do entirely without this addition. After a long
journey there is no doubt that “maté” acts as a wonderful restorative,
and the Governments of maté-producing States are endeavouring to bring
about its adoption in the armies of Continental Europe.
A few days spent in camp are full of interest, but a prolonged residence
is only for those who are either compelled by their occupation or held
by their interests or inclinations to remain upon the solemn prairies.
The utter loneliness would, without the occupations that pertain to the
animal and agricultural life, turn the brain of one whose life has grown
up amongst the life of cities, amidst the society of a variety of his
fellows. It is almost as lonely as the great oceans. The dweller upon
camps must of necessity be a student of the ever changing sky, of all
its moods from sad to gay, stern to smiling, threatening to promising, a
beauty ever various and full of an abstract fascination. At times clouds
of brown dust swirl up in great curling volumes,
[Illustration: A GAUCHO.]
to obscure and tone down the brilliant displays of sunset colour upon
the distant clouds. Even this phenomenon has an interest, and helps to
break the tiring sameness of the plains. The flights of the innumerable
feathered tribe against the sky--ducks, geese, pigeons, parrots, hawks,
plovers, storks, flamingoes, herons, scissor birds, and red birds an
infinite variety--help to divert the mind. It requires a long residence
on the plains and an unerring intuition for direction and locality, to
acquire a familiarity with all these forms of life. Landmarks that the
unpractised eye would overlook become live, bold and full of meaning to
a gaucho and his horse, who have been acquainted with their surroundings
from their birth.
[Illustration: THE LONELY CAMP.]