Santa Cruz--Expedition up river--Indians--Character of Patagonia
--Basaltic platform--Immense streams of lava--Non-transport of blocks
by river--Excavation of valley--Condor, range and habits--Cordillera
--Erratic boulders of great size--Indian relics--Return to the ship.
SANTA CRUZ--PATAGONIA.
APRIL 13TH.--The Beagle anchored within the mouth of the Santa Cruz.
This river is situated about sixty miles south of Port St. Julian.
During the last voyage, Captain Stokes proceeded thirty miles up, but
then, from the want of provisions, was obliged to return. Excepting
what was discovered at that time, scarcely any thing was known about
this large river. Captain FitzRoy now determined to follow its
course as far as time would allow. On the 18th, three whale-boats
started, carrying three weeks’ provisions; and the party consisted of
twenty-five souls--a force which would have been sufficient to have
defied a host of Indians. With a strong flood-tide, and a fine day,
we made a good run, soon drank some of the fresh water, and were at
night nearly above the tidal influence.
The river here assumed a size and appearance, which, even at the
highest point we ultimately reached, was scarcely diminished. It was
generally from three to four hundred yards broad, and in the middle
about seventeen feet deep. The rapidity of the current, which in its
whole course runs at the rate of from four to six knots an hour, is
perhaps its most remarkable feature. The water is of a fine blue
colour, but with a slight milky tinge, and not so transparent as at
first sight would have been expected. It flows over a bed of pebbles,
like those which compose the beach and surrounding plains. Although
its course is winding, it runs through a valley which extends in a
direct line to the westward. This valley varies from five to ten
miles in breadth; it is bounded by step-formed terraces, which rise
in most parts one above the other to the height of five hundred feet,
and have on the opposite sides a remarkable correspondence.
APRIL 19TH.--Against so strong a current, it was of course quite
impossible to row or sail. Consequently the three boats were fastened
together head and stern, two hands left in each, and the rest came
on shore to track. As the general arrangements, made by Captain
FitzRoy, were very good for facilitating the work of all, and as all
had a share of it, I will describe the system. The party, including
every one, was divided into two spells, each of which hauled at the
tracking line alternately for an hour and a half. The officers of
each boat lived with, ate the same food, and slept in the same tent
with their crew, so that each boat was quite independent of the
others. After sunset, the first level spot where any bushes were
growing, was chosen for our night’s lodging. Each of the crew took
it in turns to be cook. Immediately the boat was hauled up, the cook
made his fire; two others pitched the tent; the coxswain handed the
things out of the boat; the rest carried them up to the tents, and
collected firewood. By this order, in half an hour, every thing was
ready for the night. A watch of two men and an officer was always
kept, whose duty it was to look after the boats, keep up the fire,
and guard against Indians. Each in the party had his one hour every
night.
During this day we tracked but a short distance, for there were many
islets, covered by thorny bushes, and the channels between them were
shallow.
APRIL 20TH.--We passed the islands and set to work. Our regular day’s
march, although it was hard enough, carried us on an average only ten
miles in a straight line, and perhaps fifteen or twenty altogether.
Beyond the place where we slept last night the country is completely
_terra incognita_, for it was there that Captain Stokes turned back.
We saw in the distance a great smoke, and found the skeleton of a
horse, so we knew that Indians were in the neighbourhood. On the
next morning (21st) tracks of a party of horse, and marks left by the
trailing of the chuzos were observed on the ground. It was generally
thought they must have reconnoitred us during the night. Shortly
afterwards we came to a spot, where from the fresh footsteps of men,
children, and horses, it was evident the party had crossed the river.
APRIL 22D.--The country remained the same, and was extremely
uninteresting. The complete similarity of the productions throughout
Patagonia, is one of its most striking characters. The level plains
of arid shingle support the same stunted and dwarf plants; and in
the valleys the same thorn-bearing bushes grow. Every where we see
the same birds and insects. Even the very banks of the river, and of
the clear streamlets which entered it, were scarcely enlivened by a
brighter tint of green. The curse of sterility is on the land, and
the water flowing over a bed of pebbles partakes of the same curse.
Hence the number of waterfowl is very scanty; for what is there to
support life in the stream of this barren river?
Patagonia, poor as she is in some respects, can, however, boast of a
greater stock of small rodents[1] than, perhaps, any other country
in the world. Several species of mice are externally characterized
by large thin ears and a very fine fur. These little animals swarm
amongst the thickets in the valleys, where they cannot for months
together taste a drop of water. They all seem to be cannibals, for
no sooner was a mouse caught in one of my traps than it was devoured
by others. A small and delicately-shaped fox, which is likewise
very abundant, probably derives its entire support from these small
animals. The guanaco is also in his proper district; herds of fifty
or a hundred were common; and, as I have said, we saw one which must
have contained at least five hundred. The puma with the condor in
its train, follows and preys upon these animals. The footsteps of the
former were to be seen almost every where on the banks of the river;
and the remains of several guanaco, with their necks dislocated, and
bones broken, showed how they had met their death.
APRIL 24TH.--Like the navigators of old when approaching an unknown
land, we examined and watched for the most trivial sign of a change.
The drifted trunk of a tree, or a boulder of primitive rock, was
hailed with joy, as if we had seen a forest growing on the flanks of
the Cordillera. The top, however, of a heavy bank of clouds, which
remained almost constantly in one position, was the most promising
sign, and eventually turned out true. At first the clouds were
mistaken for the mountains themselves, instead of the masses of
vapour condensed by their icy summits.
26TH.--We this day met with a marked change in the geological
structure of the plains. From the first starting I had carefully
examined the gravel in the river, and for the two last days had
noticed the presence of a few small pebbles of a very cellular
basalt. These gradually increased in number and in size, but none
equalled in dimensions a man’s head. This morning, however, pebbles
of the same rock, but more compact, suddenly became abundant, and in
the course of half an hour, we saw at the distance of five or six
miles the angular edge of a great basaltic platform. When we arrived
at its base we found the stream bubbling among the fallen blocks. For
the next twenty-eight miles, the river-course was encumbered with
these basaltic masses. Above that limit, immense fragments belonging
to a primitive formation, but derived from the surrounding alluvium,
were equally numerous. In both cases no fragments at all remarkable
in size or number had been washed down the stream, more than three or
four miles below either the parent rock, or the mass of alluvium from
which they were derived. Considering the singular rapidity of the
great body of water in the St. Cruz, and that no still reaches occur
in any part, these examples are most striking of the inefficiency of
rivers in transporting even moderately-sized fragments.
The basaltic cliffs are obscurely divided by lines of more cellular
or amygdaloidal varieties, and the strata appear to the eye perfectly
horizontal. They overlie the great tertiary deposits, and are covered
(except where denuded in some of the lower terraces) by the usual
beds of gravel. The basalt is clearly nothing more than lava, which
has flowed beneath the sea; but the eruptions must have been on the
grandest scale. At the point where we first met this formation, the
mass was about 120 feet in thickness; following the river-course, it
imperceptibly rose and became thicker, so that at forty miles above
the first station it was 320 feet. What the thickness may be close to
the Cordillera, I have no means of knowing, but the platform there
attains an elevation between two and three thousand feet above the
level of the sea: we must therefore look to the mountains of that
great chain for its source; and worthy of such a source are streams,
that have flowed over the bed of an ocean to a distance of one
hundred miles.
A fine section of the basaltic platform is presented by the cliffs
on both sides of the valley. At the first glance it is evident the
strata must at one time have been united. What power then has removed
along a whole line of country, a solid mass of very hard rock,
which had an average thickness of about three hundred feet, and a
breadth varying from rather less than two to four miles? The river,
though it has so little power in transporting even inconsiderable
fragments, yet in the lapse of ages might produce an effect by its
gradual erosion, of which it is difficult to judge the limit. But in
this case, independently of the insignificance of such agency, good
reasons can be assigned for believing that this valley was formerly
occupied by an arm of the sea. It is needless in this work to detail
arguments, which chiefly rest on the form and nature of the banks,
on the manner in which the valley near the foot of the Andes expands
into a great bay, and on the occurrence of a few sea-shells lying
in the bed of the river. If I had space I could prove that South
America was formerly here cut off by a strait joining the Atlantic
and Pacific oceans, like that of Magellan. But it may yet be asked,
how has the solid basalt been removed? Geologists formerly would
have brought into play, the violent action of some overwhelming
debacle; but in this case such a supposition would have been quite
inadmissible; because the same step-like terraces, that front the
Patagonian coast, sweep up on each side of the valley. No possible
action of any flood could have thus modelled the land in these two
situations; and by the formation of such terraces the valley itself
has been hollowed out. Although we know that there are tides, which
run within the narrows of the Strait of Magellan at the rate of eight
knots an hour, yet we must confess it makes the head almost giddy
to reflect on the number of years, century after century, which the
tides unaided by a heavy surf, must have required to have corroded
so vast an area and thickness of solid rock. Nevertheless, we must
believe that the strata undermined by the waters of this ancient
strait, were broken up into huge fragments, and there lying scattered
on the beach, were reduced to smaller blocks, then to pebbles, and
lastly to the most impalpable mud, which the tides drifted into the
bed, either of the Eastern or Western Ocean.
With the change in the geological structure of the plains the
character of the landscape likewise altered. While rambling up some
of the narrow and rocky defiles, I could almost have fancied myself
transported back again to the barren valleys of St. Jago. Among the
basaltic cliffs, I found some plants which I had seen nowhere else,
but others I recognised as being wanderers from Tierra del Fuego.
These porous rocks serve as a reservoir for the scanty rain-water,
and consequently on the line where the igneous and sedimentary
formations unite, several small springs (most rare occurrences
in Patagonia) burst forth; and they could lie distinguished at a
distance by the circumscribed patch of bright green herbage.
APRIL 27TH.--The bed of the river became rather narrower, and hence
the stream more rapid. It here ran at the rate of six knots an hour.
From this cause, and from the many great angular fragments, tracking
the boats became both dangerous and laborious.
This day I shot a condor. It measured from tip to tip of the wings,
eight and a half feet, and from beak to tail, four feet. It is a
magnificent spectacle to behold several of these great birds seated
on the edge of some steep precipice. I will here describe all I have
observed respecting their habits. The condor is known to have a wide
geographical range, being found on the west coast of South America,
from the Strait of Magellan throughout the entire range of the
Cordillera. On the Patagonian shore, the steep cliff near the mouth
of the Rio Negro in lat. 41°, was the most northern point where I saw
these birds, or heard of their existence. They have there wandered
about four hundred miles from the great central line of their
habitation in the Andes. Further south, among the bold precipices
which form the head of Port Desire, they are not uncommon; yet only a
few stragglers occasionally visit the sea-coast. A line of cliff near
the mouth of St. Cruz, is frequented by these birds, and about eighty
miles up the river, where first the sides of the valley were formed
by steep basaltic precipices, the condor again appeared, although in
the intermediate space not one had been seen. From these and similar
facts, the presence of this bird seems chiefly to be determined by
the occurrence of perpendicular cliffs. In Patagonia, the condors
either by pairs or many together, both sleep and breed on the same
overhanging ledges. In Chile, during the greater part of the year,
they haunt the lower country near the shores of the Pacific, and at
night several roost in one tree; but in the early part of summer,
they retire to the most inaccessible parts of the inner Cordillera,
there to breed in peace.
With respect to their propagation, I was told by the country people
in Chile, that the condor makes no sort of nest, but in the months
of November and December lays two large white eggs on a shelf of bare
rock. On the Patagonian coast I could not see any sort of nest among
the cliffs, where the young ones were standing. It is said the young
condors cannot fly for an entire year. At Concepcion, on the fifth of
March (corresponding to our September), I saw a young bird, which,
though in size little inferior to an old one, was completely covered
by down like that of a gosling, but of a blackish colour. I feel sure
this bird could not have used its wings for flight for many months.
After the period when the young condors can fly, and apparently as
well as the old birds, they yet remain both roosting at night on the
same ledge, and hunting by day with their parents. Before, however,
the young bird has the ruff round its neck turned white, it may often
be seen hunting by itself. At the mouth of the St. Cruz, during part
of April and May, a pair of old birds might be seen every day either
perched on a certain ledge, or sailing about in company with a single
young one, which latter though full fledged, had not its ruff white.
I should think, especially when recollecting the state in which the
Concepcion bird was on the previous month, that this young condor had
not been hatched from an egg of that summer. As there were no other
young birds, it seems probable that the condor only lays once in two
years.
These birds generally live by pairs; but among the inland basaltic
cliffs of the St. Cruz, I found a spot, where scores most usually
haunt. On coming suddenly to the brow of the precipice, it was a
fine sight to see between twenty and thirty of these great birds
start heavily from their resting-place, and wheel away in majestic
circles. From the quantity of dung on the rocks, they must long have
frequented this cliff, and probably they both roost and breed there.
Having gorged themselves with carrion on the plains below, they
retire to these favourite ledges, to digest their food. From these
facts, the condor must to a certain degree, like the gallinazo,
be considered a gregarious bird. In this part of the country they
live altogether on the guanacoes, which either have died a natural
death, or, as more commonly happens, have been killed by the pumas. I
believe, from what I saw in Patagonia, that they do not on ordinary
occasions extend their daily excursions to any great distance from
their regular sleeping-places.
The condors may oftentimes be seen at a great height, soaring over
a certain spot in the most graceful spires and circles. On some
occasions I am sure that they do this for sport, but on others, the
Chileno countrymen tell you that they are watching a dying animal,
or the puma devouring its prey. If the condors glide down, and
then suddenly all rise together, the Chileno knows that it is the
puma which, watching the carcass, has sprung out to drive away the
robbers. Besides feeding on carrion, the condors will frequently
attack young goats and lambs. Hence the shepherd dogs are trained,
the moment the enemy passes over, to run out, and looking upwards, to
bark violently. The Chilenos destroy and catch numbers. Two methods
are used; one is to place a carcass within an enclosure of sticks on
a level piece of ground, and when the condors are gorged, to gallop
up on horseback to the entrance, and thus enclose them: for when
this bird has not space to run, it cannot give its body sufficient
momentum to rise from the ground. The second method is to mark the
trees in which, frequently to the number of five or six, they roost
together, and then at night to climb up and noose them. They are
such heavy sleepers, as I have myself witnessed, that this is not a
difficult task. At Valparaiso, I have seen a living condor sold for
sixpence, but the common price is eight or ten shillings. One which I
saw brought in, had been lashed with rope, and was much injured; yet,
the moment the line was cut by which its bill was secured, although
surrounded by people, it began ravenously to tear a piece of carrion.
In a garden at the same place, between twenty and thirty were kept
alive. They were fed only once a week, but they appeared in pretty
good health.[2] The Chileno countrymen assert that the condor will
live and retain its powers, between five and six weeks without
eating. I cannot answer for the truth of this, but it is a cruel
experiment, which very likely has been tried.
When an animal is killed in the country, it is well known that the
condors, like other carrion vultures, soon gain intelligence of it,
and congregate in an inexplicable manner. In most cases it must not
be overlooked, that the birds have discovered their prey, and have
picked the skeleton clean, before the flesh is in the least tainted.
Remembering the opinions of M. Audubon, on the little smelling powers
of such birds,[3] I tried in the above-mentioned garden the following
experiment: The condors were tied, each by a rope, in a long row
at the bottom of a wall. Having folded up a piece of meat in white
paper, I walked backwards and forwards, carrying it in my hand at
the distance of about three yards, but no notice whatever was taken.
I then threw it on the ground, within one yard of an old cock bird;
he looked at it for a moment with attention, but then regarded it
no more. With a stick I pushed it closer and closer, until at last
he touched it with his beak; the paper was then instantly torn off
with fury, and at the same moment, every bird in the long row began
struggling and flapping its wings. Under the same circumstances, it
would not have been possible to have deceived a dog.
I may remark, that oftentimes when lying down to rest on the open
plains, and on looking upwards, I have seen carrion hawks, sailing
through the air at a great height. Where the country is level I
do not believe a space of the heavens, of more than 15° above the
horizon, is commonly viewed with any attention by a person either
walking or on horseback. If such is the case, and the vulture is on
the wing at a height of between three and four thousand feet, before
it could come within the above range of vision, its distance in a
straight line from the beholder’s eye, would be rather more than
two British miles. Might it not thus readily be overlooked? When an
animal is killed by the sportsman in a lonely valley, may he not all
the while be watched from above by the sharp-sighted bird? And will
not the manner of its descent proclaim throughout the district to the
whole family of carrion-feeders, that their prey is at hand?
When the condors in a flock are wheeling round and round any spot,
their flight is beautiful. Except when rising from the ground, I do
not recollect ever having seen one of these birds flap its wings.
Near Lima, I watched several for nearly half an hour, without once
taking off my eyes. They moved in large curves, sweeping in circles,
descending and ascending without once flapping. As they glided close
over my head, I intently watched, from an oblique position, the
outlines of the separate and terminal feathers of the wing, if there
had been the least vibratory movement, these would have been blended
together, but they were seen distinct against the blue sky. The head
and neck were moved frequently, and apparently with force, and it
appeared as if the extended wings formed the fulcrum on which the
movements of the neck, body, and tail, acted. If the bird wished to
descend, the wings were for a moment collapsed; and then when again
expanded with an altered inclination, the momentum gained by the
rapid descent seemed to urge the bird upwards, with the even and
steady movement of a paper kite. In the case of any bird _soaring_,
its motion must be sufficiently rapid, so that the action of the
inclined surface of its body on the atmosphere, may counterbalance
its gravity. The force to keep up the momentum of a body moving in a
horizontal plane in that fluid (in which there is so little friction)
cannot be great, and this force is all that is wanted. The movement
of the neck and body of the condor, we must suppose, is sufficient
for this. However this may be, it is truly wonderful and beautiful to
see so great a bird, hour after hour, without any apparent exertion,
wheeling and gliding over mountain and river.
APRIL 29TH.--From some high land we hailed with joy the white summits
of the Cordillera, as they were seen occasionally peeping through
their dusky envelope of clouds. During the few succeeding days,
we continued to get on slowly, for we found the river-course very
tortuous, and strewed with immense fragments of various ancient
slaty rocks, and of granite. The plain bordering the valley had
here attained an elevation of about 1100 feet, and its character
was much altered. The well-rounded pebbles of porphyry were in this
part mingled with many immense angular fragments of basalt and of
the rocks above mentioned. The first of these erratic blocks which
I noticed, was sixty-seven miles distant from the nearest mountain;
another which had been transported to rather a less distance,
measured five yards square, and projected five feet above the gravel.
Its edges were so angular, and its size so great, that I at first
mistook it for a rock _in situ_, and took out my compass to observe
the direction of its cleavage. The plains here were not quite so
level as those nearer the coast, but yet, they betrayed little
signs of any violent action. Under these circumstances, it would be
difficult, as it appears to me, to explain this phenomenon on any
theory, excepting through that of transport by ice while the country
was under water. But this is a subject to which I shall again recur.
During the two last days we met with signs of horses, and with
several small articles which had belonged to the Indians,--such as
parts of a mantle and a bunch of ostrich feathers--but they appeared
to have been lying long on the ground. Between the place where the
Indians had so lately crossed the river and this neighbourhood,
though so many miles apart, the country appears to be quite
unfrequented. At first, considering the abundance of the guanacoes, I
was surprised at this; but it is explained by the stony nature of the
plains, which would soon disable an unshod horse from taking part in
the chase. Nevertheless, in two places in this very central region,
I found small heaps of stones, which I do not think could have been
accidentally thrown together. They were placed on points, projecting
over the edge of the highest lava cliff, and they resembled, but on a
small scale, those near Port Desire.
MAY 4TH.--Captain FitzRoy determined to take the boats no higher. The
river had a winding course, and was very rapid; and the appearance of
the country offered no temptation to proceed any further. Every where
we met with the same productions, and the same dreary landscape.
We were now one hundred and forty miles distant from the Atlantic,
and about sixty from the nearest arm of the Pacific. The valley in
this upper part expanded into a wide basin, bounded on the north and
south by the basaltic platforms, and fronted by the long range of
the snow-clad Cordillera. But we viewed these grand mountains with
regret, for we were obliged to imagine their form and nature, instead
of standing, as we had hoped, on their crest, and looking down on the
plain below. Besides the useless loss of time which an attempt to
ascend any higher would have cost us, we had already been for some
days on half allowance of bread. This, although really enough for any
reasonable men, was, after our hard day’s march, rather scanty food.
Let those alone who have never tried it, exclaim about the comfort of
a light stomach and an easy digestion.
5TH.--Before sunrise we commenced our descent. We shot down the
stream with great rapidity, generally at the rate of ten knots an
hour. In this one day we effected what had cost us five-and-a-half
hard days’ labour in ascending. On the 8th, we reached the Beagle
after our twenty-one days’ expedition. Every one excepting myself
had cause to be dissatisfied; but to me the ascent afforded a most
interesting section of the great tertiary formation of Patagonia.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] The deserts of Syria are characterized, according to Volney (vol.
i., p. 351), by woody bushes, numerous rats, gazelles, and hares. In
the landscape of Patagonia, the guanaco replaces the gazelle, and the
agouti the hare.
[2] I noticed that several hours before any of the condors died,
all the lice, with which they are infested, crawled to the outside
feathers. I was told that this was always the case.
[3] In the case of the _Vultur aura_, Mr. Owen, in some notes read
before the Zoological Society, has demonstrated from the developed
form of the olfactory nerves, that this bird must possess an acute
sense of smell. It was mentioned on the same evening, that on two
occasions, persons in the West Indies having died, and their bodies
not being buried till they smelt offensively, these birds congregated
in numbers on the roof of the house. This instance appears quite
conclusive, as it was evident they had gained the intelligence by the
powers of smell alone, and not of sight. It would appear from the
various facts recorded, that carrion-feeding hawks possess both the
sense of sight and smell in an eminent degree.