there are rivers in which it is found; but its appellation in the “lingo
ageral” of the great Amazon valley, is “juarua.” Among the Ottomacs it
is called the “apoia.” It may be safely affirmed that there are several
species of this amphibious animal in the rivers of tropical America; and
possibly no one of them is identical with that of the West Indies. All
have hitherto been regarded as belonging to the same species, and
described under the scientific title of _Manatus Americanus_—a name
given to the American manati, to distinguish it from the “lamantin” of
Africa, and the “dugong” of the East-Indian seas. But the West-Indian
species appears to have certain characteristic differences, which shows
that it is a separate one, or, at all events, a variety. It is of much
larger size than those of the South-American rivers generally are—though
there also a large variety is found, but much rarer than those commonly
captured by the fishermen. The West-Indian manati has nails well
developed upon the outer edge of its fins, or forearms; while those on
the other kinds are either not seen at all, or only in a very
rudimentary state. That there are different species, may be deduced from
the accounts of the natives, who employ themselves in its capture: and
the observations of such people are usually more trustworthy than the
speculations of learned anatomists. The Amazon fishermen all agree in
the belief that there are three kinds of manati in the Amazon and its
numerous tributaries, that not only differ greatly in size—from seven to
twenty feet long—and in weight, from four hundred to two thousand
pounds,—but also in the color of their skin, and the shape of their
tails and fins. The species found in the Orinoco, and called “apoia” by
the Ottomacs, is usually about twelve feet in length, and weighs from
five hundred to eight hundred pounds; but now and then a much larger
individual is captured, perhaps owing to greater age, or other
accidental circumstance. Humboldt heard of one that weighed eight
thousand pounds; and the French naturalist D’Orbigny speaks of one
killed in the Bolivian waters of the Amazon that was twenty feet in
length. This size is often attained by the _Manatus Americanus_ of Cuba
and Hayti.
The manati is shaped somewhat like a huge seal, and has certain
resemblances to a fish. Its body is of an oval oblong, with a large,
flat, rounded tail, set horizontally, and which serves as a rudder to
direct its course in the water. Just behind its shoulders appear,
instead of fins, a pair of flippers, which have a certain resemblance to
hands set on to the body without arms. Of these it avails itself, when
creeping out against the bank, and the female also uses them in carrying
her young. The mammæ (for it must be remembered that this creature is a
mammiferous animal) are placed just below and behind the flippers. The
muzzle is blunt, with thick lips,—the upper projecting several inches
beyond the lower, and covered with a delicate epidermis: showing
evidently that it avails itself of this prominence—which possesses a
keen sense of touch—just as the elephant of his proboscis. The lips are
covered with bristles, or beard, which impart a kind of human-like
expression to the animal’s countenance,—a circumstance more observable
in the “dugongs” of the Oriental waters. “Woman-fish,” too, these have
been called, and no doubt such creatures, along with the seals and
walruses, have given rise to many a story of sirens and mermaids. The
“cow-face,” however, from which the manati obtains its Spanish and
Portuguese epithets, is the most characteristic; and in its food we find
a still greater analogy to the bovine quadruped with which it is brought
in comparison. Beyond this the resemblance ceases. The body is that of a
seal; but instead of being covered with hair, as the cetaceous animal,
the manati has a smooth skin that resembles india-rubber more than
anything else. A few short hairs are set here and there, but they are
scarce observable. The color of the manati is that of lead, with a few
mottlings of a pinkish-white hue upon the belly; but in this respect
there is no uniformity. Some are seen with the whole under-parts of a
uniform cream-color.
The lungs of this animal present a peculiarity worthy of being noted.
They are very voluminous,—being sometimes three feet in length, and of
such a porous and elastic nature as to be capable of immense extension.
When blown out, they present the appearance of great swimming bladders;
and it is by means of this capacity for containing air that, the manati
is enabled to remain so long under water,—though, like the true
_cetaceæ_, it requires to come at intervals to the surface to obtain
breath.
The flesh of the manati is eaten by all the tribes of Indians who can
procure it,—though by some it is more highly esteemed than by others. It
was once much relished in the colonial settlements of Guiana and the
West Indies, and formed a considerable article of commerce; but in these
quarters manatis have grown scarce,—from the incessant persecution of
the fishermen. The flesh has been deemed unwholesome by some, and apt to
produce fevers; but this is not the general opinion. It has a greater
resemblance to pork than beef,—though it be the flesh of a cow,—and is
very savory when fresh, though neither is it bad eating when salted or
dried in the sun. In this way it will keep for several months; and it
has always been a stock article with the monks of the South-American
missions,—who, in spite of its mammiferous character, find it
convenient, during the days of Lent, to regard it as a _fish_. The skin
of the manati is of exceeding thickness,—on the back an inch and a half
at least, though it becomes thinner as it approaches the under-parts of
the body. It is cut into slips which serve various purposes, as for
shields, cordage, and whips. “These whips of manati leather,” says
Humboldt, “are a cruel instrument of punishment for the unhappy slaves,
and even for the Indians of the missions, though, according to the laws,
the latter ought to be treated as freemen.”
Another valuable commodity obtained from this animal is oil, known in
the missions as manati-butter (_manteca de manati_). This is produced by
the layer of pure fat, of an inch and a half in thickness, which, lying
immediately under the skin, envelops the whole body of the animal. The
oil is used for lamps in the mission churches; but among the Indians
themselves it is also employed in the _cuisine_,—as it has not that
fetid smell peculiar to the oil of whales and salt-water cetaceæ.
The food of the manati is grass exclusively, which it finds on the banks
of the lakes and rivers it frequents. Of this it will eat an enormous
quantity; and its usual time of browsing is at night,—though this habit
may have arisen from its observance of the fact, that night is the
safest time to approach the shore. In those places, where is has been
left undisturbed, it may be often seen browsing by day.
I have been thus particular in my account of this animal, because it is
more nearly connected with the history of Ottomac habits than perhaps
that of any other tribe of South-American Indian,—the Guamos alone
excepted, who may themselves be regarded as merely a branch of the
Ottomac family. Though, as already remarked, all the tribes who dwell
upon manati rivers pursue this creature and feed upon its flesh, yet in
no other part of South America is this species of fishery so extensively
or so dexterously carried on as among the Ottomacs and Guamos,—the
reason being, that, amidst the great grassy savannas which characterize
the Ottomac country, there are numerous streams and lagoons that are the
favorite haunts of this herbivorous animal. In one river in particular,
so great a number are found that it has been distinguished by the
appellation of the _Rio de Manatis_ (river of manatis). The manati, when
undisturbed, is gregarious in its habits, going in troops (or “herds,”
if we preserve the analogy) of greater or less numbers, and keeping the
young “calves” in the centre, which the mothers guard with the tenderest
affection. So attached are the parents to their young, that if the calf
be taken, the mother can be easily approached; and the devotion is
reciprocated on the filial side; since in cases where the mother has
been captured and dragged ashore, the young one has often been known to
follow the lifeless body up to the very bank!
As the manati plays such an important part in the domestic economy of
the Ottomacs, of course the capturing of this animal is carried on upon
the grandest scale among these people, and, like the “harvest of
turtle-eggs,” hereafter to be described, the manati fishery has its
particular _season_. Some writers have erroneously stated this season as
being the period of inundation, and when the water is at its maximum
height. This is quite contrary to the truth; since that period, both on
the Amazon and Orinoco rivers, is just the time when all kinds of
fishing is difficult and precarious. Then is the true winter,—the “blue
months” of the South-American river Indians; and it is then, as will
presently be seen, that the Ottomac comes nearest the point of
starvation,—which he approaches every year of his life.
There are manati and other kinds of fish taken at all times of the year;
but the true season of the manati-fishing is when the waters of the
great flood have considerably subsided, and are still continuing to
diminish rapidly. When the inundation is at its height, the manati
passes out of the channel current of the great river, and in search of
grass it finds its way into the lakes and surrounding marshes, remaining
there to browse along their banks. When the flood is rapidly passing
away from it, it begins to find itself a “little out of its element,”
and just then is the time when it is most easily captured.
Sometimes the Indians assemble in a body with their canoes, forming a
large fleet; and, proceeding to the best haunts of the “cow-fish,” carry
on the fishery in a wholesale manner. The monks of the missions also
head the _tame_ tribes on these expeditions,—as they do when collecting
the eggs of the turtle,—and a regular systematic course is carried on
under the eye of discipline and authority. A camp is formed at some
convenient place on the shore. Scaffolds are erected for sun-drying the
flesh and skins; and vessels and other utensils brought upon the ground
to render the fat into oil. The manatis that have been captured are all
brought in the canoes to this central point, and delivered up to be
“_flensed_,” cured, and cooked. There is the usual assemblage of small
traders from Angostura and other ports on the lower Orinoco, who come to
barter their Indian trinkets for the _manteca de manati_ in the same
manner it will presently be seen they trade for the _manteca de
tortugas_. I need not add that this is a season of joy and festivity,
like the wine-gatherings and harvest-homes of the European peasantry.
The mode of capturing the manati is very similar to that employed by the
Esquimaux in taking the seal, and which has been elsewhere described.
There is not much danger in the fishery, for no creature could be more
harmless and inoffensive than this. It makes not the slightest attempt
either at defence or retaliation,—though the accident sometimes occurs
of a canoe being swamped or drawn under water,—but this is nothing to
the Ottomac Indian, who is almost as amphibious as the manati itself.
At the proper hour the fisherman starts off in search of the manati. His
fishing-boat is a canoe hollowed from a single trunk, of that kind
usually styled a “dug-out.” On perceiving the cow-fish resting upon the
surface of the water, the Ottomac paddles towards it, observing the
greatest caution; for although the organs of sight and hearing in this
animal are, externally, but very little developed, it both hears and
sees well; and the slightest suspicious noise would be a signal for it
to dive under, and of course escape.
When near enough to insure a good aim, the Ottomac hurls his harpoon
into the animal’s body; which, after piercing the thick hide, sticks
fast. To this harpoon a cord is attached, with a float, and the float
remaining above water indicates the direction in which the wounded
animal now endeavors to get off. When it is tired of struggling, the
Indian regains the cord; and taking it in, hand over hand, draws up his
canoe to the side of the fish. If it be still too lively, he repeatedly
strikes it with a spear; but he does not aim to kill it outright until
he has got it “aboard.” Once there, he ends the creature’s existence by
driving a wooden plug into its nostrils, which in a moment deprives it
of life.
The Ottomac now prepares himself to transport the carcass to his home;
or, if fishing in company, to the common rendezvous. Perhaps he has some
distance to take it, and against a current; and he finds it inconvenient
to tow such a heavy and cumbrous article. To remedy this inconvenience,
he adopts the expedient already mentioned, of placing the carcass in his
canoe. But how does he get it there? How can a single Indian of ordinary
strength raise a weight of a thousand pounds out of the water, and lift
it over the gunwale of his unsteady craft? It is in this that he
exhibits great cunning and address: for instead of raising the carcass
above the canoe, he sinks the canoe below the carcass, by first filling
the vessel nearly full of water; and then, after he has got his freight
aboard, he bales out the water with his gourd-shell. He at length
succeeds in adjusting his load, and then paddles homeward with his
prize.
On arriving at his village,—if it be to the village he takes it,—he is
assisted in transporting the load by others of his tribe; but he does
not carry it to his own house,—for the Ottomacs are true socialists, and
the produce both of the chase and the fishery is the common property of
all. The chief of the village, seated in front of his hut, receives all
that is brought home, and distributes it out to the various heads of
families,—giving to each in proportion to the number of mouths that are
to be fed.
The manati is flayed,—its thick hide, as already observed, serving for
many useful purposes; the strata of fat, or “blubber,” which lies
beneath is removed, to be converted into oil; and finally, the flesh,
which is esteemed equal to pork, both in delicacy and flavor, is cut
into thin slices, either to be broiled and eaten at the time, or to be
preserved for a future occasion, not by salt, of which the Ottomac is
entirely ignorant, but by drying in the sun and smoking over a slow
fire. Fish and the flesh of the alligator are similarly “cured;” and
when the process is carefully done, both will keep for months.
The alligator is captured in various ways: sometimes by a baited hook
with a strong cord attached,—sometimes he is killed by a stab of the
harpoon-spear, and not unfrequently is he taken by a noose slipped over
his paw, the Ottomac diving fearlessly under him and adjusting the
snare.
Some of the Indian tribes will not eat the musky flesh of the alligator;
but the Ottomacs are not thus particular. Indeed, these people refuse
scarce any article of food, however nasty or disagreeable; and it is a
saying among their neighbors—the Indians of other tribes—that “nothing
is too loathsome for the stomach of an Ottomac.”
Perhaps the saying will be considered as perfectly true when we come to
describe a species of food which these people eat, and which, for a long
time, has rendered them famous—or rather infamous—under the appellation
of “dirt-eaters.” Of them it may literally be said that they “eat dirt,”
for such, in reality, is one of their customs.
This singular practice is chiefly resorted to during those months in the
year when the rivers swell to their greatest height, and continue full.
At this time all fishing ceases, and the Ottomac finds it difficult to
obtain a sufficiency of food. To make up for the deficiency, he fills
his stomach with a kind of unctuous clay, which he has already stored up
for the emergency, and of which he eats about a pound per diem! It does
not constitute his sole diet, but often for several days together it is
the only food which passes his lips! There is nothing nourishing in
it,—that has been proved by analysis. It merely _fills_ the
belly,—producing a satiety, or, at least, giving some sort of relief
from the pangs of hunger. Nor has it been observed that the Ottomac
grows thin or unhealthy on this unnatural viand: on the contrary, he is
one of the most robust and healthy of American Indians.
The earth which the Ottomac eats goes by the name of _poya_. He does not
eat clay of every kind: only a peculiar sort which he finds upon the
banks of streams. It is soft and smooth to the touch, and unctuous, like
putty. In its natural state it is of a yellowish-gray color; but, when
hardened before the fire, it assumes a tinge of red, owing to the oxide
of iron which is in it.
It was for a long time believed that the Ottomac mixed this clay with
cassava and turtle-oil, or some other sort of nutritive substance. Even
Father Gumilla—who was credulous enough to believe almost anything—could
not “swallow” the story of the clay in its natural state, but believed
that it was prepared with some combination of farinha or fat. This,
however, is not the case. It is a pure earth, containing (according to
the analysis of Vauquelin) silex and alumina, with three or four per
cent of lime!
This clay the Ottomac stores up, forming it into balls of several inches
in diameter; which, being slightly hardened before the fire, he builds
into little pyramids, just as cannon-balls are piled in an arsenal or
fortress. When the Ottomac wishes to eat of the _poya_, he softens one
of the balls by wetting it; and then, scraping off as much as he may
require for his meal, returns the _poya_ to its place on the pyramid.
The dirt-eating does not entirely end with the falling of the waters.
The practice has begot a craving for it; and the Ottomac is not
contented without a little _poya_, even when more nutritious food may be
obtained in abundance.
This habit of eating earth is not exclusively Ottomac. Other kindred
tribes indulge in it, though not to so great an extent; and we find the
same unnatural practice among the savages of New Caledonia and the
Indian archipelago. It is also common on the west coast of Africa.
Humboldt believed it to be exclusively a tropical habit. In this the
great philosopher was in error, since it is known to be practised by
some tribes of northern Indians on the frigid banks of the Mackenzie
River.
When the floods subside, as already stated, the Ottomac lives better.
Then he can obtain both fish and turtles in abundance. The former he
captures, both with hooks and nets, or shoots with his arrows, when they
rise near the surface.
The turtles of the Ottomac rivers are of two kinds: the _arau_ and
_terecay_. The former is the one most sought after, as being by far the
largest. It is nearly a yard across the back, and weighs from fifty to a
hundred pounds. It is a shy creature, and would be difficult to capture,
were it not for a habit it has of raising its head above the surface of
the water, and thus exposing the soft part of its throat to the Indian’s
arrow. Even then an arrow might fail to kill it; but the Ottomac takes
care to have the point well coated with _curare_ poison, which in a few
seconds does its work, and secures the death of the victim.
The _terecay_ is taken in a different and still more ingenious manner.
This species, floating along the surface, or even when lying still,
presents no mark at which a shaft can be aimed with the slightest chance
of success. The sharpest arrow would glance off its flat shelly back as
from a surface of steel. In order, therefore, to reach the vitals of his
victim, the Indian adopts an expedient, in which he exhibits a dexterity
and skill that are truly remarkable.
He aims his shaft, not at the turtle, but up into the air, describing by
its course a parabolic curve, and so calculating its velocity and
direction that it will drop perpendicularly, point foremost, upon the
back of the unsuspecting swimmer, and pierce through the shell right
into the vital veins of its body!
It is rare that an Indian will fail in hitting such a mark; and, both on
the Orinoco and Amazon, thousands of turtles are obtained in this
manner.
The great season of Ottomac festivity and rejoicing, however, is that of
the _cosecha de tortugas_, or “turtle-crop.” As has been already
observed, in relation to the manati fishery, it is to him what the
harvest-home is to the nations of northern Europe, or the wine-gathering
to those of the south; for this is more truly the character of the
_cosecha_. It is then that he is enabled, not only to procure a supply
of turtle-oil with which to lubricate his hair and skin, but he obtains
enough of this delicious grease wherewith to fry his dried slices of
manati, and a surplus for sale to the turtle-traders from the Lower
Orinoco. In this petty commerce no coin is required; harpoon-spears, and
arrow-heads of iron, rude knives, and hachets; but, above all, a few
cakes of _annotto chica_, and _caruto_, are bartered in exchange for the
turtle-oil. The thick hide of the manati,—for making slave-whips,—the
spotted skin of the jaguar, and some other pelts which the chase
produces, are also items of his export trade.
The pigments above mentioned have already been procured by the trader,
as the _export_ articles of commerce of some other tribe.
The turtle-oil is the product of the eggs of the larger species,—the
_arau_,—known simply by the name _tortuga_, or turtle. The eggs of the
_terecay_ would serve equally as well; but, from a difference in the
habit of this animal, its eggs cannot be obtained in sufficient quantity
for oil-making. There is no such thing as a grand “cosecha,” or crop of
them—for the creature is not gregarious, like its congener, but each
female makes her nest apart from the others, in some solitary place, and
there brings forth her young brood. Not but that the nests of the
_terecay_ are also found and despoiled of their eggs,—but this only
occurs at intervals; and as the contents of a single nest would not be
sufficient for a “churning,” no “butter” can be made of them. They are,
therefore, gathered to be used only as _eggs_, and not as _butter_.
The _arau_, on the other hand, although not gregarious under ordinary
circumstances, becomes pre-eminently so during the “laying season.” Then
all the turtles in the Orinoco and its tributaries collect into three or
four vast gangs—numbering in all over a million of individuals—and
proceed to certain points of rendezvous which they have been in the
habit of visiting from time immemorial. These common breeding-places are
situated between the cataracts of the river and the great bend, where it
meets the Apure; and are simply broad beaches of sand, rising with a
gentle slope from the edge of the water, and extending for miles along
the bank. There are some small rookeries on tributary streams, but the
three most noted are upon the shores of the main river, between the
points already indicated. That frequented by the Ottomacs is upon an
island, at the mouth of the Uruana River, upon which these people
principally dwell.
The laying season of the _arau_ turtle varies in the different rivers of
tropical America,—occurring in the Amazon and its tributaries at a
different period from that of the Orinoco. It is regulated by the rise,
or rather the fall of the inundations; and takes place when the waters,
at their lowest stage, have laid bare the low sand-banks upon the
shores. This occurs (in the Orinoco) in March, and early in this month
the great assemblages are complete. For weeks before, the turtles are
seen, in all parts of the river near the intended breeding-places,
swimming about on the surface, or basking along the banks. As the sun
grows stronger, the desire of depositing their eggs increases,—as though
the heat had something to do with their fecundation. For some time
before the final action, the creatures may be seen ranged in a long line
in front of the breeding-place, with their heads and necks held high
above the water; as if contemplating their intended nursery, and
calculating the dangers to which they may be exposed. It is not without
reason that they may dwell upon these. Along the beach stalks the lordly
jaguar, waiting to make a meal of the first that may set his foot on
terra firma, or to fill his stomach with the delicious “new-laid” eggs.
The ugly alligator, too, is equally _friand_ of a gigantic omelette; and
not less so the “garzas” (white cranes) and the “zamuros” (black
vultures), who hover in hundreds in the air. Here and there, too, may be
observed an Indian sentinel, keeping as much as possible out of sight of
the turtles themselves, but endeavoring to drive off all other enemies
whose presence may give them fear. Should a canoe or boat appear upon
the river, it is warned by these sentinels to keep well off from the
phalanx of the turtles,—lest these should be disturbed or alarmed,—for
the Indian well knows that if anything should occur to produce a panic
among the araus, his _cosecha_ would be very much shortened thereby.